A Queer Mormon Transhumanist

Hello, I’m Blaire, introductions are in order.
First of all, I’m no one’s son. I’m someone’s a daughter.
You remember me. I’m that girl. They excommunicated my father.
They took a patriarch from my mother and her three daughters. 

I was fourteen. It was Easter Sunday.
They kicked my father out of heaven that day.
What a way to celebrate resurrection day—
I didn’t commit the crime, but they certainly made me pay.
Anyway.
I grew up fast and found my own way.
Until one day
things were no longer okay.
I still remember what happened that day.

That Mormon boy groped my breast and body,
and laughed as he assaulted me.
I was only sixteen,
and so shocked at the seen
that I froze while his friend laughed and did nothing. 

They told me to repent
when he was the one who took my consent.
The guilt of being a victim would not relent,
but even so, I sat in the pews, waiting for the atonement
as the boy who groped me blessed the sacrament.
He gave me the water and bread so that I could repent.
Then suddenly it clicked, and it all made sense.
No matter how hard I tried I could never repent
for the sin of being a woman. A sin I did not invent,
but alas, it’s a sin I resent.
My gender was the sin that seemed to prevent
me from blessing the sacrament.
I know that’s not exactly what they meant,
so you’ll have to excuse my sincerest descent,
but they discriminate against my gender, was that not the intent? 

You see, so many men around me lied and cheated,
but it didn’t matter, so long as patriarchy wasn’t defeated.
Asking for a seat at the table isn’t because I’m conceded.
Why couldn’t they understand that all I needed
was to be treated
as a person with autonomy. Sorry, I’m getting heated,
but they told me I was “vying for authority,” but isn’t that what he did?
So why is it wrong for me to be greeted,
with the same rights, privileges, and opportunities as he is?
Even after I searched, pondered, and pleaded,
the men in dark suits told me to be quiet and be seated.  

I should have known better just to leave it,
but I found a young man that made me rethink it.
It’s the strangest thing, but with him I felt completed.
I wasn’t certain that I would ever be treated,
with compassion and kindness, in the ways that only he did.  

I was going to marry him, you see.
We made our secret promises and he gave me a ring.
We wrote each other letters for two years while he was serving.
He made me so happy, I didn’t mind he kept me waiting.
Yet I met another man, through the bonds of friendship we were creating,
a second relationship that was also worth saving.
Yet in a world made for twos, three is perceived as misbehaving.
But I never lied. I told the truth even when my heart was racing.
Love isn’t love unless honesty is remaining.  

Yet for some reason for me to take another lover,
meant that I must say good-bye to my other.
I don’t understand why we can’t share with each other.
It’s for reasons like this queer love goes undercover.
Back in the closet. Take cover.
I never have time to recover.
Remove the covers.

It’s not a secret!

I don’t march to the drums of monogamy
I know they squirm when I say the words “queer polygamy.”
Yes, it’s a part of my faith’s controversial history,
I admit “the principle” was not practiced perfectly.
Most of the mistakes were a product of patriarchy.
Let me explain, the problem isn’t loving plurally,
It’s that not all participants were granted autonomy.
You say, “Blaire, you’re makin’ up words, and chanting off key,”
I offer my sincerest apology.
It’s a habit I picked-up while studying philosophy—
deconstructing old meanings and replacing them is a matter of practicality.
Yes, plural love is a matter of practicality.
It’s a product of my Christianity,
because not all plural love is defined by sexuality.
How else are we meant to join Christ’s body—
if not through plural love and ingenuity?
You see, the law of plurality
isn’t about sexuality.

You are free
to disagree,
but I refuse to let plurality
be defined by its enemies.

Have you read D&C?
I’ll tell you what “queer polygamy” means,
It means I’ll catch you and you’ll catch me.
It means living as a community.
It means building Zion as brothers, sisters, and siblings.
It means it takes a village to raise our babies.
It means there is beauty in diversity.
It means charity.

But even if plural love were to include sexuality,
Guy or girl, it’s all beautiful to me.
You can blame it on my bisexuality,
but I won’t apologize for loving queerly.
I refuse to swallow the lies of hetero-monogamy.
That’s fine if it works for you, but stop telling me,
“Monogamy is the right way to be.”
You’re “right” isn’t right for me.

God, give me grace.
Without love what the hell and we trying to save?
Let’s lay a foundation for a new road to be paved.
We can’t procrastinate.
We don’t have time to wait.
I think waiting is a serious mistake.
Have you considered all that’s at stake?
Death comes for all of us and death doesn’t give, Death takes!
They say the resurrection happen by priesthood power,
but people I love keep dying hour after hour.
Yet my gender keeps me away from priesthood power,
and slowly the magic of the priesthood begins to sour.

After all that we’ve been though,
I’m still not convinced the brethren’s love for me is true.
Priesthood power was meant for women, too.
They’ll have to excuse me while I take a seat at the table too.
God, Herself, is a not narrative dictated exclusively by you.
Even though She is not spoken of oft’ in the pews,
She lives! She lives for me and you.
Have you forgotten? She’s your Mother too.

I am made in Her likeness.
Was this not what they professed?
Have they read the book of Genesis?
Was I not clothed in holy robes as a priestess?
I withstood, face veiled, in a polyester dress,
unable to utter the words—lips tightly pressed.
I was searching for woman’s godliness,
yet so casually dismissed.
Did the patriarchs mistake my kindness for weakness?

I will not recoil in fear and cowardice.
I am about my Mother business,
and as my sisters have witnessed,
I’m moving forward. I’m a Mormon Transhumanist.
It’s even better than feminist,
a myth too good to resist,
and I trust it’s a myth that will persist
into the future as another religious myth—
Why? Well, let me tell you the jist.

If you are anything like me
you’re beyond thirsty
for a more robust theology.
Flex your imagination with me,
and picture heaven in your mind and you’ll see
a world where disease in no longer deadly—
a world where families live eternally—
a world that celebrates diversity.
Imagine our plural love combined with technology.
Do you really think God became God without a community?
Transhumanism build upon ideas of singleton supremacy
is just another form of tyranny.
If transhumanism isn’t for the people, it’s not for me,
because in this capitalistic economy
your gain means a loss for me.
Love doesn’t have to be hoarded by scarcity.
My God isn’t a tyrant who collects unjust authority.
God is God because They learned to love when loving wasn’t easy.
That’s why building Zion requires our plural love and ingenuity.
I’m not idling waiting for a technological Singularity.
To become Gods requires cooperation and synergy,
with love applied universally.
Unconditionally.
Imagine working together more wholly
to fulfill visions I can only describe as holy
in an effort to become more godly.

There are people like me who are lucky to be alive.
When natural selection tried to kill me, technology helped me survive.
My existence wasn’t relegated to the archives.
Instead, I am here to thrive.
My body was cut, bleeding, and open on the operating table.
My condition and vitals were not stable,
but I was convinced my body was able
to deliver three children, before they closed me with staples.
I did it three times in October, March and April.
The injuries were severe, but they weren’t fatal.

“Fatal” is the key word here,
Death tried to take me from all I hold dear,
but technology allows people like me to live year after year.

I’m not too proud to admit that I still fear.
I fear the unfulfilled potential of my peers.
We set up mental blockades that need to disappear.
If we really have faith, we must peddle and turn the gears.
Let’s fulfill the prophecies we hold dear,
by bringing immortality and resurrection near.
No, I’m not joking, I’m being sincere.
Transhumanism is the works to the faith we revere.
God’s message is here,
and for me it’s pretty clear.
If we want salvation, we need to volunteer.
Have we forgotten our roots? We come from pioneers.
I know it sounds foreign, but you don’t need to sneer.
It’s all in the scriptures, my dear,
heard by those willing to hear
even if it’s brought to your attention by a mouth that’s queer.

I feel it deep within my bones these are more than honest lies,
Like all religions, tales get revised.
Like a lover too good to deny
the sun will arise
and reveal to our eyes
truth brought forth amid the lies.
I was wrong. There’s no need to cry.
Priesthood power was always ours, it was only in disguise.
Forgiveness is something we all must recognize.
All I’m saying is we have to try.
If God is God, They are wise,
and They’ll appreciate our sincerest tries
to love beyond the boundaries that left us to die.

If I die before my work is done,
I have trust in my daughter and two sons,
The love I have for them makes me come undone,
and though they are different they may work as one.
When I drop the baton, they know to pick it up and run.
I trust they’ll come back for me, once the war over death is won.

And by the graces of God above,
let the next generations lead with love—
not just some of the love,
but all the love—
all the plural love our species is capable of,
and maybe that’s how we will join the Gods above.