CULTURE
BY ANONYMOUS
I THINK T H AT ’ S HOW I FEEL, BUT I A M N O T S U R E HOW THE SOCIAL PRESSURE COMMUNITIES WARPED MY
W
hat comes to mind when you hear the word: community? There are
IN RELIGIOUS PERCEPTIONS
climb the wall of your shower. I could not get a fucking grip.
probably positive connotations, a sense of belonging, a secure space
But as I consider it more honestly, more fairly, with a healthy amount of self-crit-
to share your experiences, and a safety net for emotional support,
icism, I realize I often did the same thing. I nodded and smiled and gave a quick
but that is not always the case. Sometimes, instead of a community carving out
remark of agreement with dozens of statements when I was internally screaming.
a spot for people to be their authentic selves, it pressures people to mold them-
Just maybe… no, most likely, I wasn’t the only one who thought, “you know what?
selves to narrow expectations of what is acceptable in that community. Instead of
Fuck it. It’s not worth it anymore. I’m just going to shut up.”
bringing people together while respecting their unique differences of taste, opin-
Here it is: another pleasant side effect, the all too familiar guilt. Why wasn’t
ion, and background, it enforces a code of conformity and removes the chance
I better? Why didn’t I say what I thought? I never could answer that question. I
for true connection.
thought it was because I was afraid. But it wasn’t. It was because there wasn’t
When growing up in a tight-knit religious community, you quickly learn that there are acceptable ways to act, speak, dress and look at the world around you. While
any point in yelling into the void, when not even an echo would come back. I knew the stove was hot and banging my head against a wall was going to hurt.
certain ways of thinking may not be explicitly criticized, those who don’t behave
There was a constant expectation of vulnerability. Being honest about your
or think as expected are often ostracized. As I look back at the structure that I
struggles, your “sins,” was a sign that you were engaged in your faith. Quite frankly,
grew up in, I find that many of the religious communities I was in, from schools to
it felt uncomfortable to be thrown into a random youth group and have people bare
churches to families, coerced me to accept behaviors and relationships that are
their fucking souls. I mean, people you just met. The only thing more uncomfort-
not beneficial to myself in my formative years, only because there weren’t any
able than that was the mounting pressure to share your personal life with these
other options. For years and even to this day, it has led to me to question and dislike
people who you just met and didn’t know if you could trust.
myself, making me out of touch with who I was.
Wait, no I take it back, the only thing more uncomfortable was when you shared
Only now, as I begin to rediscover what I like, how I think, and what I want for
something vulnerable and personal only to be met with an empty rehearsed
myself am I able to put into context how the community I grew up in molded me in
answer. Uncomfortable isn’t the precise word for that though. Insulting, maybe.
ways that were against my nature. As I was growing up, I had a persistent sense
It felt like a slap in the face: to share vulnerable parts of yourself and receive an
of wanting to connect with others around me but found that being stuck in a social
impersonal answer that could have been given to anyone. It was almost as if they
bubble where everyone has similar beliefs made it difficult to find an actual support
didn’t even listen to what you said.
system. Since everyone is brought up being taught the same ideas, it created a surface-level sense of uniformity in personality. Everyone’s edges are smoothed over with an industrial wood buffer until every-
I can remember being told by my youth group leader, a young woman, who was supposed to support the high school and middle school students in their faith that I had no reason to be sad about my grandparent’s death when Jesus had gone
thing becomes smooth and slick. Slippery. Interactions between people were like
through much worse. And that he understood everything I was going through.
a vertical countertop and water. Just slipping, connectionless. It felt like trying to
It’s one thing to tell someone their opinion is wrong, but it’s another thing to tell
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