So you never had a crisis of faith?

I don't know. I don't know what that means. Like, are you saying like, did I ever say, is there a God?

Just like, oh, I thought it was the one true church with exclusive authority and now I don't.

And, oh, I thought there was a God who loved me, who had ten fingers and ten toes.

And now it's just some nebulous blob, if there's something there at all. Like this whole disillusion of your worldview to the point of

major disappointment and disorientation at you thought you were going to a certain place in heaven.

You knew that there was an afterlife. You knew that you'd be in this celestial kingdom.

You know, that whole identity was wrapped up and tied for many, you know, in the doctrine of theology and how they perceived it.

And so when the doctrine of theology dissolved, sometimes everything else dissolves with it.

And I'm not hearing you say that was your experience.

No, I mean, you know what killed you was Prop 22. That's kind of where my crises of faith came was like, what is going on in this tradition?

I love why? Why of all the times I could be born, you know, into all the faith traditions in the world.

There's all the bars in the world she had to walk into this world. You know, like why? Why? Why did God make me this way?

Why did God make me with this huge heart, this huge mouth, this load of words, this curiosity for ideas for this moment and womanism?

Thanks a lot. This really sucks. What am I supposed to do with this now? Where am I supposed to go?

Why is my church like, I mean, and so much of it's just been so elemental and heart centered for me.

You know, like it was right after, you know, I know it's skipping ahead a minute, but like, you know, the hardest part of my faith journey so far was the years in between Prop 22 and Prop 8,

which our Proposition 22 was in 2000. It was the year I got married. I know what that subject seemed, but that was the first time in California that church had, you know,

kind of really leveraged itself into a public entity measure. They did it in Hawaii, Alaska.

And it felt like someone had ripped my heart out of my chest and dropped on the ground and dropped a single block on my heart.

That's all I know how to describe it. And I could not go to church for five or six years without crime.

I just like, every time I set foot in a Mormon church building, I cried. It was ridiculous. It was so, I mean, it just got comical after a while.

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