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Personal Manifesto

I'm Rebekah! It's spelled weird, right? It's biblical. My parent's named me. Don't most parents do that? It's a pretty bold move, naming your kid after a person from the Bible. Kinda puts a lot of pressure on them. I love irony.

I grew up a pretty happy kid. And then came high school. I had self esteem issues (what teenager doesn't). When I was 14 I went on trek, and a 16-year-old boy held my hand! Regardless of the fact that I didn't even know his name, and despite my dirty pioneer clothes, I felt pretty. Are you hearing the warning bells? Yeah, they weren't even bells. They were freakin' sirens. But he was Mormon! And he played rugby and ran cross country and was so cute and all my friends at school had boyfriends.

One night he texted telling me he was outside my house. I stole outside with fantasies of a dreamy sweet first kiss. What I didn't expect were his hands forcing themselves down my pants and up my shirt. I tried to act cool because of said reasons above, but when he left and I sneaked back into my room, I found solace under the covers of my bed and cried.

I thought my Mom would be mad at me for texting a boy and then for sneaking out. So I kept it a secret. Luckily, this boy went to another school and we didn't see much of each other. But when we did, things were about the same, with the progression of him forcing my hand down his pants.

When I caught wind that he had cheated on me I was hurt. I had delusionaly thought that his actions were love. But I've got tough skin and moved on pretty quick. Way too quick. I went from serious boyfriend to serious boyfriend. Some LDS. Some not. Surprisingly, the mormon boys were the ones who continued to take advantage of me.

This all sounds pretty rebellious right? Problem was, I didn't really know what was happening. I was a sheltered child. And I loved my sheltered childhood. And I'd read the For The Strength of Youth pamphlet, but honestly, what does that stuff even mean? I was learning through all of this the "street" slang of my actions. But when I got caught, and went to meet with my bishop, I couldn't answer his questions.

Words like "masturbation" and "ejaculation" were not terms I'd ever heard of. My parents were afraid that telling me about these things would cause me to act, but in reality the lack of knowledge was what hurt me. When I told him this, he said that my actions were still wrong and that I should decide on my own the length of time that I would refrain from the sacrament. That sounds merciful, but I had no idea what to do! How do you repent from something you didn't know you were doing? And how do you choose your sentence? When will the Lord forgive me?

My confusion spurred deep questions of faith. But I played it cool. I'm good at that.

And I went to BYU. And I met a broken boy. He'd come home from his mission early and was feeling pressure, and doubt, and pain. We had a whirlwind relationship that resulted in a pregnancy.

This all sounds pretty tragic right? It was actually the greatest blessing. That boy and I grew together  in our faith and had a perfect little baby. We were sealed to each other and to our son. While in that temple, I felt a love for my child that surpassed all love I'd ever felt in my life, and I understood for the first time the love our Heavenly Father has for us.

 I'm lucky. But some girls aren't. I want to let women of faith know that there are cracks in our culture. When I say I'm a feminist I'm not saying I'm out burning bras and waving "God is SHE" signs. I'm saying that girls should be taught about pornography. I'm saying that, being told that if we make a mistake, we're like a piece of chewed up gum that nobody wants, is wrong. 

I wanted to do a graphic design account at first. Because it's easy and I know I'd get a following without even trying. There's a lot of feminist accounts out there but finding one from God-fearing women is a challenge. I'm pretty sure I'll have a hard time finding a following, but it deserves a shot.

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