There is nothing more disheartening to me than a child in pain. So innocent and new to the world, their lives should be about learning and discovery, not the darkness that seems to be sweeping our nation.

Teen suicides are at an all time high. It has become such a pandemic that a new psychological term had been created to explain it:

Bullycide – Suicide attributed to either bullying by a person or via social media.

I had all but forgotten my own story until this past Sunday when a fast and testimony meeting reminded me of what every Mormon in this state wants to ignore; bullying is just as prevalent in our own churches, as it is in the school yard.

It was towards the end of testimony meeting. The usual group of people had expressed themselves: our beloved seniors with their memories, little children who are grateful for everything, and the scholars with their you-have-to-know-this wisdom. Then a man walked up to the front. In his step was a hesitation that could not be defined as mere nervousness. He was carrying a burden and was questioning how to share it.

When he finally spoke, his message was simple: We need to love everyone, even if they have long hair.

It was the man’s son who bore the physical feature he so lovingly protected, and I knew it was sorely frowned upon by many of the youth in the ward.

That moment was a reminder of my own experiences with bullying and the church.

The first I had only witnessed. We were living in Sandy, UT at the time. To say that our housing development was prominently LDS would be an understatement. Every single family in that little picket fence community was LDS with the one exception; our neighbors. ‘Different’ then the rest, our neighbors were good friends with my parents. I didn’t see the relationship they had as any different from the other neighbors because my parents taught me all people are equal in the site of God.

One day, the Relief Society President showed up at our door, clipboard in hand. Despite the smile and cookies, her intent was not to create a spiritual environment. The clipboard she carried bore the names of our fellow community members. Each signature supporting a petition to remove the Non-Members from our neighborhood. My Mom made me proud that day by slamming the door in that horrible woman’s face. We moved from the community shortly after.

I was 13 years old living in Alpine, UT when I experienced severe church bullying first hand. We had moved into the south side of a very affluent ward. Our house was much smaller than all the million dollar homes surrounding ours and it was obvious that the neighbors recognized this difference as well.

Though no one said anything directly to us, their children made sure I understood the message clearly. They always left me out of the passing assignment for sacrament. There was never room for me in their tents on campouts; forcing me to stay with the leaders. Party invitations would be passed out in priesthood class, always one short. This treatment happened every Sunday afternoon and continued through the week at school where it would become physical and would include their friends.

I said something once. My father took action and spoke to the priesthood leader, who in turn spoke to the young men. Their reaction was that of shock and dismay. The parents refused to believe their children were capable of such nasty things and instead blamed it on what they believed was my inability to socialize with them.

I took this for two years. By the time I reached seventh grade, I had become a hollow shell. I hated church. I found myself better able to make friends with children of other faiths than with those of my own, because we had something in common, we were both victims of what we called the Mormon Scourge.

It was ultimately a move to Fresno, CA that saved me. There I received a taste of how it really should be. The young men welcomed me into the ward with open arms that extended all the way to school. We were in a ward together, and so they believed that made us family. We all ate lunch together, stuck together at social events, and spent time supporting each other no matter the backgrounds. From high school football star to thespian, we stuck it out for each other.

In an era where some of the most watched Youtube videos are of teenagers sharing their fears of bullying, I think it’s easy to overlook the tragedy in our own wards. What kind of message do we send our children when we, ourselves, negatively comment on the ‘uniqueness’ of an individual in our ward?

The church should be the safest place for our youth. When they walk through those first doors we need to make sure that they don’t only feel accepted themselves as individuals, but that they are willing to accept the individuality of others as well.

In the end the Bishop (best one I ever had) did what any true Bishop should. He stood to the pulpit and after briefly commenting on how we should love one another, he smiled at the young man and said, “Besides, Jesus had long hair too, and he was the best of us.”

– The Token Single Guy