By: Anonymous
I had to sit on my experience for a couple of months. I couldn’t write about it until now for two reasons. The first being that I was so frustrated I had a difficult time putting my experience into words. I felt that I lacked the emotional clarity to truly convey my feelings. The second being that I am still, to an extent, afraid of the leadership of my ward punishing me for what I have to say. That is why I have chosen to stay anonymous, and have changed names to keep this as anonymous as I feel comfortable. I will not say the name of my ward or the state in which I live.
My first experience with the man I opposed happened in sacrament meeting. My husband and I had moved for graduate school six months prior. We lived in a basement apartment before moving into our current ward. I was nervous about moving wards because our previous ward had been so warm and friendly. I was sad to leave the ward, but it was time for us to live in an apartment of our own.
We I sat through sacrament meeting. After its conclusion, the man behind me tapped my shoulder. I turned to see him, and the first thing he said was, “I don’t know what you put in your hair, but it smells amazing.” In times like this, many of us would like to believe we would have some clever comeback or a good back-hand warmed up and ready to go. The truth is, my husband and I were both so shocked, we didn’t say much of anything. I think I managed a forced, “Um, thanks?” and promptly got up and left. I remember thinking, “Did that guy sniff my hair?” All in front of his wife and young kids. After church, I went home and blocked his multiple Facebook accounts from my profile.
Later, this man would latch on to my husband any chance he got. Latching onto me would be too suspect, but attempting to cozy up to my husband deflected the suspicion of other ward members. On one of the following Sundays, hair-sniffing guy, let’s call him Beck, asked my husband, “Did you walk in the rain a lot on your mission?” My husband served in a mission in a country in South America, so yes, he often did walk in the rain. So he replied truthfully, not knowing why Beck was asking such a question. Beck replied, “I thought so. They say the missionaries who walk in the rain a lot on their missions end up with the most beautiful wives.”
Let’s unpack this. First of all, Beck has already established that my personal space is not my own by sniffing my hair from behind in sacrament meeting. Second, he has now likened me to a prize won because my husband was caught in a few rain storms while serving his mission. I do not like either of these. My opinion of Beck, frankly, is low at this point. Little did I know how much worse it could get.
My husband endured barrages of comments each week about my appearance. How attractive Beck thought I was, how lucky my husband was, etc. Even if my husband confronted him, asking why he thought it was okay to say these things, Beck would not stop. Even if my husband moved across the room in Sunday school to get away from his incessant yammering, Beck would move to sit near him again. So not only is this man already predatory with me, but he has established a pattern of predatory behavior toward my husband. Remember this for later.
Not long after moving into the ward, I am asked to accept a calling in the primary. I am delighted. I have served in primaries before, and I love it. I work with Beck’s small children, and they are completely delightful. To this day, I love Beck’s children. This is one of the major reasons I felt I should publicly oppose.
I watched a couple YouTube videos uploaded by one of Beck’s children who I work with in Primary. During the video, you can hear him screaming at his children in the background. I have heard Beck scream at his children before at church. Not only could you hear him screaming at his children, but from time to time he would violently yank on their arms or drag them out of sacrament meeting. This not only caught my attention, but the attention of several other primary leaders. I did not know this until after I opposed, which I am getting to next.
After seeing the way Beck treated his children, his wife, hearing about his racially-charged comments on social media and in Sunday school, my opinion of Beck was at a new low. So low, it had fallen past annoyance and sped into full-on disdain. So when I heard almost a year after the hair-smelling incident that Beck was going to be called into the Bishopric of the ward, I completely lost my head. How on earth could this man even be considered for a leadership position? I knew if this was true, there was no way I could sustain him. My husband instantly came to the same conclusion.
I did not know exactly when his sustaining vote would take place, but I was ready to oppose for weeks. Finally, when the time came, in front of my entire ward, Beck, and his immediate and extended family, I cast my opposing vote. My husband at the time was serving in a very public place, facing the congregation, and did not feel comfortable raising his hand. There was one other person, a leader in the stake primary presidency, who also opposed privately to the stake president after sacrament meeting had taken place.
So. After I opposed, the stake president then had to explain to the ward what happens when there is an opposing vote. He said that there would be conducting interviews with each opposing voter after the sacrament meeting. So of course after the meeting’s conclusion, Beck was circling outside the stake president’s office. No one called him away, or told him it was inappropriate for him to be lurking there. Instead, the stake president paraded me and my husband right by Beck into his office. He knew who had opposed him.
In the meeting, the stake president stated that it takes a lot of courage to publicly oppose and that he commended our courage in doing so. He continued by asking what reasons we had to oppose. I then told the stake president everything I knew. His behavior towards me, which I had found out first hand he also exhibited to several other women in the ward, his behavior towards his children, his wife, in Sunday school, on social media. I spilled my guts about everything I knew. My husband did as well.
After we had said our piece, the stake president then agreed with me that his behavior was unacceptable. He said in particular his behavior toward me was “bizarre” and even “lustful.” He said these were all legitimate reasons to oppose. He wanted to Bishop to hear about them too. But first, he told me that when the Bishop has initially given Beck’s name for the bishopric position, much of the stake presidency was opposed. Even members of the stake high council were opposed, but that over time they all felt that Beck should be extended this calling anyway.
I was completely dumbfounded by this comment. At first they all opposed? How on earth was this not a red flag? My words completely left me. All that remained was shock and a building and slow-burning rage. The stake president then called for the bishop. In short, the bishop defended wanting Beck in this calling. Both men told me and my husband that this was Beck’s opportunity to sink or swim. “He will either be called to his salvation or his damnation.” They told us to go home and pray about it, and to report any misbehavior from hereon out. They expected us to be comforted that “he was now closely under the eye of the bishop.” The only thing I could manage to say was that if they truly felt that he should still be in his calling, he should not be over the young women or the primary. Then we left.
I was in a state of shock for the next week. While I was glad to an extent that I had voiced my concerns, I thought, “What was the point?” He was called anyway. It was still uncertain what would happen the following Sunday, so I clung to hope that perhaps the calling would be reversed. That Beck would be released. Because I did pray about this – and I still felt that the bishop and stake president were wrong. Little did I know that my situation was about to get so much worse.
Remember the part where I said I was the only one who truly publicly opposed? That is still true a week later. Remember also that I did not know when Beck was going to be called, so I sat in my typical spot in a middle pew on one of the sides of the chapel. I wasn’t in the back where only a few could see me. It would not have mattered anyways with how quickly news like that would spread through my ward.
The next week, the stake president is sitting on the stand. It is said that he had a few words to say to the ward. Beck was still sitting on the stand. I had no idea what to expect. The stake president then launched into his speech. He said that while people should oppose if they are truly concerned, he then gripped the podium in true Jeffrey R. Holland style and quivered that people should not oppose for “gossipy and vindictive reasons.” My jaw fell open and my heart slipped to the floor.
WHAT?!
My mind was going a million miles a terrifying minute. He had to know what he was doing. He knew I was the only one who publicly opposed Beck last week. He had to know what people would conclude. That I had opposed for “gossipy and vindictive reasons.” I still can’t recall much of what he said after that. The sting was far too distracting.
Once the initial terror and shock wore away, my aforementioned slow-burning rage exploded into a white hot nuclear reaction. As soon as sacrament meeting was over, I told my husband I was going home. I stormed to the car and as much as I did not want to, I started to cry. I called my brother on my way home. How could someone I trusted, my stake president, do something like that to me? How could he betray me like that? How could this organization completely disregard how this man was treating his family, minorities, treating the women in the ward? How could they disregard how he had treated me?
The slim body of testimony I clung to shriveled into nothing but a thin shell in the coming months afterwards. I had no reason to believe this man that I had to stare down (yes, he would stare at me from the stand) held any sort of priesthood. I called into question the authority of the bishop, the stake president, ultimately the organization itself. How could this happen here? I kept going back to it over and over again in my mind, trying to find some piece of convincing evidence that I had missed. But I explained everything. I went through my grocery list of extremely good reasons as to why this man should not be in the bishopric. How are they not seeing this?
In the months that followed, I did everything I could to avoid Beck while still attending my meetings. “Do it for the kids” became my mantra. If I did not have my calling, I would not have attended. I would still catch him staring at me and my husband from the stand. He did almost everything he could to talk to me in the hallways or at ward functions. I got very good at circumventing his approaches to other people, as well as just walking away.
There was one event where our interaction could not be avoided without making a scene. A family that I adored was moving out of the ward, and they had asked that I come to their going-away party. I was wary that Beck would be there, but I figured since it was a party and many people would be there, I could avoid him with some ease. When I arrived, I was relieved to find he was not there. I sat and chatted with members of my ward as well as the family that was leaving. Beck arrived later.
I did not notice at first because I was talking to someone next to me. Beck then comes and stands next to us while we are sitting down. What I did not think about before coming to the party was that what I thought would be my getaway, a crowd, would actually be a reason why I could not get away. Everyone was watching us. Everyone knew I had opposed this man just a couple months before.
I felt completely trapped. Not wanting to stir the gossip pot even more, I was pleasant with Beck and others for a time. Not a long time, but enough for people to feel that there was not a show to watch. I then left. Days later, upon checking my email (my only source of communication available on LDS tools. I specifically did this because I did not want Beck to have access to my phone number) I found that Beck had written me. He asked what I liked to bake (I had mentioned that it is one of my hobbies at the party) and that he would like to talk to me on the phone or “in person.” I never replied.
Whenever I dwell on this experience, I spiral into a rage. But after the rage dies down again, I’m always left feeling absolutely defeated. My concerns fell on deaf ears, my laundry list on blind eyes. I’m waiting for the day when Beck does something publicly and stupidly enough to get him removed from his calling. My testimony is in ruin, especially in the power of revelation. I’d try to pull myself out of the pit I’ve slipped into, but now I’m not sure I even want to. While I know I did the right thing, I thought my leaders would believe that too.