Mormon Girls For Black Men

In the meantime, I was curious about Canadian society and the City of Toronto in general, and who better to guide me than Stefan Atkinson? With him by my side, I got to know Canada's most fabulous city. Toronto is vast, bigger than Salt Lake City, and it's full of people from all over the world. Stefan has been here his whole life, and he knows all the cool spots. He took me to the local Cineplex, and we watched the movie Riddick. I'm a big fan of Vin Diesel, so that totally works for me.

Stefan and I had fun at the movie, and afterwards he took me for a bite at Toronto's Eaton Center, one of the biggest malls in town. We ate some delicious Arabic food, the Shawarma stuff. I had a great plate of rice and potatoes, with beef, pita bread and lots of hummus. Being half Arab and half Jamaican, Stefan knows a lot about the stuff. He also revealed to me that he speaks several languages including English, French, Spanish and Arabic. You're going to love it here, he said. I looked at him, my handsome and oh-so charming new friend and smiled. I like Toronto already, I said with a contented sigh.

Indeed, Toronto was starting to have an effect on me. The place is beautiful and diverse, but a lot of the local people are assholes. With my trademark enthusiasm, I approached the mission with a smile on my face and hope in my heart. I didn't even mind dealing with the close-minded people on the street who would walk away or cuss me out when I approached them. I swear, if you're a young woman with a Bible trying to talk to people on the street, they look at you as if you're a weirdo. Some of them will cuss you out, or flip you the bird. People can be so mean. It can be quite draining, especially when you're far from home, in a strange new town, with very few friends.

Don't get me wrong, I was made quite welcome at the Latter-Day Saints Church in Toronto. The brothers and sisters come from all over. They've got people from Nigeria, Egypt, India, Haiti, China and even Pakistan, to name but a few. Quite a few people from other religions such as Islam, Sikhism and Buddhism have embraced Christianity after contact and study sessions with elders and sisters from the LDS Church. Of all the different branches of Christianity out there, we Mormons proselytize the most. We're dedicated to teaching the entire world about Jesus Christ.

Yes, I loved my ministry, but I also felt lonely. I talked to my parents every night, and my dad told me he was proud of me. I remember my mission days well, he said, laughing. I smiled at that. In my father's younger days, ninety nine percent of the Missionaries were men. Today, thirty to forty percent of all Missionaries from the Mormon Church are women, and the number is growing. Runs in the family, I said quietly. When I made up my mind to go on mission, my father was one of my staunchest opponents. It's dangerous out there for women traveling alone spreading the Word, he warned. I argued that I could handle it as well as any man could, and eventually, dad stopped arguing with me.

Give mom my love, I said, as I wished him goodnight, then clicked off. Stefan and I had plans to hang out the next day. I like him a lot, and the more I learn about him, the more fascinated I become. His mom knows we've been in touch, but she has no idea we're constantly together. Honestly, all due respect to her, Stefan and I are adults and we don't need her permission to hang out. I've been in Toronto for four weeks now, and Stefan and I have grown real close. At the end of a long day of mission work, I honestly don't want to deal with Heather's bitchiness.

Our host, Sister Peggy Rameau is cordial but distant, so I don't get any warm fuzzy feelings toward her. Also, she's rather close to her neighbor Rina Singh, a tall, dark-haired and rather pretty Indian lady in her early forties. Rina visits us on most nights, and has introduced us to Indian food, something which delights me. Rina practices the Sikh religion, so I found it odd that she and Sister Peggy are such close friends.

I shared this with Heather, and it was a lousy move on my part. Heather thinks Sister Peggy Rameau and her friend Rina are lesbian lovers. The thought didn't disturb me in the least. It's the twenty-first century, ladies and gentlemen. Gays, lesbians and bisexuals are here to stay. So Sister Peggy and Rina Singh might be queer. So what? I said, glaring at Heather. Shaking her head in disgust, Heather stalked off. I swear, this bitch is filled with nothing but prejudice and hatred. What is someone like her doing spreading the Word of God?

Still, Heather's observation skills are second to none, it must be said. Her suspicions proved to be right on the money. One afternoon I came home early from a study session, and found Sister Peggy and Rina in the living room, making out while watching Fried Green Tomatoes. Oh my, Rina said, gasping in shock. Sister Peggy looked flushed, and somewhat angry. You're home early Charlene, she said evenly. I looked from one woman to the other, and held my hands up. I respect your right to loving who you love, I said quickly.

Rina and Sister Peggy looked at each other and smiled. This is surprisingly progressive of you, Rina said. I nodded and smiled. Seriously, why do people always expect me to be close-minded and judgmental simply because I believe in Jesus Christ? Fundamentalist freaks give Christendom a bad name. We're not all like the Reverend Phelps. I wished both women a good night, then went to my room. As I lay on my bed, I had to laugh. What a world we live in! Sister Peggy Rameau, a lifelong LDS Church member and her neighbor Rina Singh, together. An interracial, interfaith lesbian couple. How do you like them apples?

I called Stefan, and we ended up chatting for three hours, a record for us. Usually, we're only slightly over sixty minutes. He's got a life here in Toronto. He's got his school, Seneca College, and the soccer club he plays for, and his friends. Me? I'm alone in this city. My school, my town and my home church are far, far away. How far is the City of Toronto, Ontario, from Salt Lake City, Utah? I'm going to Google that someday. Stefan told me he wanted to take me someplace special tomorrow, and I was oh so excited about that. Look, I'm passionate about the LDS Church and mission work, but I'm also a young woman...with all that implies.

Stefan and I met at the Eaton Center, and then from there, he took me to the Spadina Museum. For a taste of Canadian culture and history, Stefan promised. I went, and I was absolutely fascinated by the place. It's funny how this old house which reflects 1860s Canada reminded me so much of certain Victorian-style mansions in Salt Lake City's Old Town sector. I've been all over Utah, and I never thought I'd see anything in Ontario that would remind me of home...but I did.

Stefan and I stood in the Billard room, along with the other visitors, and just soaked up the moment. I was so lost in thoughts of home that I almost didn't feel Stefan's arms around me. Are you okay? he asked me gently. I turned around, smiled and nodded. I'm fine, I said, and gently touched Stefan's face. He had three days stubble on his chin. Typically, Mormon men are clean-shaven, we're the only branch of Christianity that makes such a practice borderline mandatory.

The LDS Church doesn't approve of facial hair in men, or anyone for that matter. Even though Jesus Christ, Abraham, Isaac, David, Moses, Solomon and pretty much every important man in the Bible wore a beard. I usually dislike facial hair in men, but Stefan looked good with his. Kiss me, I said. Stefan hesitated, then smiled. I looked into his eyes and saw that gleam of mischief I knew so well. I'd seen it in his eyes that first night, as we wrestled for the remote right before his mom busted us. I thought you'd never ask, Stefan grinned, then he kissed me.

Our first kiss was slow, and gentle, nothing like what you see in the movies these days. Stefan's lips tasted of gum, and the coffee he had earlier. I hugged Stefan tightly, and kissed him back passionately. Sweet lips you got there Mister Toronto, I said, pinching his chin. Stefan laughed and shrugged. He cocked an eyebrow, trying to look all cool and stuff. I got it like that Miss Utah, he laughed. We were bantering like this for several minutes before we realized that our tour group was in another section of the Spadina House. We should catch up, Stefan said. I nodded at that. Good idea, I said, and linked my arm with his.

Stefan and I discussed our feelings for each other at great length, and decided to give a relationship a shot. It would not be easy. For starters, his mother doesn't like me. Oh, and there's a certain code of behavior that's expected of sister missionaries. Once Stefan and I went public about our fledgling relationship, Heather just about lost it. I can't believe you're dating a nigger, she said, glaring at me. For once, I didn't reply. I just smacked the bitch, hard. I grabbed her by the collar and looked into her eyes. Don't talk that way about my boyfriend, I said.Heather stared at me, and for the first time I saw something different in her eyes. Not contempt or hatred but fear. I liked it. I walked away with a smile on my face.

The next day, my world came crumbling down. Heather pulled a bitch move and reported my conduct, and apparently inappropriate relationship with Stefan to the church leadership. Word made its way to my parents, and my father told me to stop any further contact with Stefan and to return to Utah immediately. I raised you better than that, dad said, bristling at the thought of me, his daughter, dating a black man. Jesus Christ considered all races of men to be equal before God, I countered. My dad remained undaunted. You're dead to me Charlee, he said. My heart broke when he said those words over the phone. My dad is the only person to ever call me Charlee. I hung up the phone, knowing that I was burning my bridges.

My family no longer wants anything to do with me. If I return to Salt Lake City, Utah, I'll be shunned by the LDS Church. We consider ourselves a progressive people but there's a lot of racism among Mormons. I never heard my father refer to people of any color using racial slurs, and he always voted democrat. Indeed, he voted for Obama, twice, even though Mitt Romney was the darling of all Mormons. Yet my liberal-minded father didn't want me to date a man of color. Wow. You learn something new every day.

I had lost so much because of my love for Stefan Atkinson, the young man who stole my heart. Would he support me in my hour of need? Or would he abandon me? Only one way to find out. I went to his house, in tears, after that last conversation with my father. In front of his parents, Stefan put his arms around me and told me he loved me. You poor thing, Samuel said. Stefan's dad looked from Stefan to me, then looked at his wife Fatima. I looked at her, the matriarch of the Atkinson clan. My heart stood still. What is she going to do? Come here sweetie, Fatima said, and gently hugged me.

That was almost a year ago. I'm still living in Toronto, but I am no longer a missionary with the LDS Church. I still believe in Our Savior the Lord Jesus Christ, and I still read the Book of Mormon faithfully. God loves and man kills. I forgot who said that, but whoever said it was absolutely right. I cannot find any passage in the Bible stating that darker-skinned peoples are better than lighter-skinned peoples. Don't all men and women alive today stem from Adam and Eve? If that's true, then why are people so damn racist? If a black man needed a blood transfusion, a healthy white donor from the same blood type could help him out and vice versa. A kidney taken from a black donor will fit a white patient. Yet people are so hateful toward one another. Why?

When Stefan and I walk through the streets of Toronto together, we get stared at. We get a lot of stares from all kinds of people, but mainly black women and white guys. The white guys think I'm yet another white woman gone to the other side, and the black women think Stefan is yet another black male sellout. Whatever. People will always make assumptions about those they don't know, and most of the time, they're wrong. The world is changing, around the globe, major cities are becoming more diverse. There are white minorities living in Africa's big cities among the blacks, and there are millions of black people living in Western countries. I'm told that in London, UK, there are over a million people of African descent. Wow. Maybe one day things will change.

I decided to stay in Toronto with the man I love. Stefan is the one for me, I know this now. His family has accepted me, and I embrace them as though they were my own. Someday soon, they shall be. Samuel and Fatima's other son Jean-Luc finally came back from mission work in Alberta. And he introduced the family to a tall, lovely young black woman named Nadine Sanders. Apparently they met at the University of Calgary and just clicked. She accepted the Mormon faith and he wants to marry her. Good for them.

Canada amazes me more day by day. I want to build a life for myself here. First, I had to go through the system. I had to apply for a work permit and a study permit, then I obtained a social insurance card and a health card. I had to get an account with the Ontario Universities Application Center or O.U.A.C. before I could write to my old school, Salt Lake City Community College, and have them send my transcripts to the University of Toronto. I got accepted as an international student. It's expensive, but Stefan assured me that once I become a permanent resident, they'll charge me the same rates as everyone else.

I have come to love my new life here in Toronto, Ontario. I'm now a third-year student in the criminal justice program at the University of Toronto. I work as a cashier at a Wal-Mart. It's okay, just a job to pay the bills. Stefan and I live together in a three-bedroom apartment two miles from his folks house. It's expensive as hell and the neighborhood is not the greatest but hey, for now it's home. That's all that matters, right?

I formed an interdenominational Christian group on campus to encourage Christian students at University of Toronto to wake up. It's the Mormon woman in me, I want to preach and proselytize. There are a lot of Muslims, Sikhs and Buddhists at U of T and while I respect people's right to follow their chosen faith, I firmly believe that Judeo-Christianity must be upheld and protected across North America. Stefan and I are together on this, and our friends ( of all colors ) are helping us spread the faith.

The way I see it, in an era where Christendom is endangered, we must unite whether we're called Methodist, Baptist, Adventist, Catholic, Orthodox, Maronite, Episcopalian, Mormon, Jehovah's Witness, Unitarian, Apostolic or whatever. And since our group is full of Africans, Asians, Hispanics and other 'ethnic people' the campus authorities can't say shit because we're numerous and diverse. I'm the white chick with the black boyfriend leading the so-called radical Christian group. I'm not what anyone's expecting, and that's why I'll succeed in my crusade to defend and uphold Christianity while opposing racism, sexism and creeps.

I hope to graduate from the University of Toronto real soon, that's why I'm taking summer classes. Stefan recently filed for me to become a permanent resident of Canada, he's sponsoring me. We contacted a lawyer about it and she's optimistic. That's good, because I want to set my roots here. Canada is a beautiful country but it's gone too far with its multiculturalism bullshit. I don't care what race or religion you fall under, you have to respect Judeo-Christianity, gender equality and democracy or Western society isn't for you. Canada needs to be more of a melting pot. This place needs an injection of Americanism and I, a young woman from Salt Lake City, Utah, am just what the doctor ordered. This ought to keep me busy until graduation. After that, Stefan and I need to make some babies. We're proud Mormons, you see, and we have real BIG families. Hallelujah!