Authors: Elissa Wall
After a while, I just became numb to the whole charade. I had to continually remind myself that I was doing this for my salvation in heaven, and that my goal in the meantime was to survive. I was willing to sacrifice happiness on earth for happiness in my next life, convinced that either Allen would change once we got to heaven or God would fix the situation.
It felt like we were having marital relations all the time, at least once or twice a week. Sometimes I would sleep in my mother’s room just to avoid it. While I didn’t want to give in to Allen, Uncle Warren had put my eternal salvation at risk and I had no choice but to surrender. While Warren Jeffs did not actually use the words “have sexual intercourse” when telling me what to do with my husband, his directives to “submit” and “give myself mind, body, and soul” to my husband meant just that. If Warren hadn’t intended me to have sexual relations with Allen, he never would have required me to marry him with the commandment to “go forth and multiply and replenish the earth with good priesthood children.” In a matter of weeks, my act of survival often became an act of submission.
T
he coming of summer helped to raise my spirits. That June we celebrated Uncle Roy’s birthday, marking the beginning of the annual summer festivities. The community was beginning to prepare for the Pioneer Day parade, but sadly this year would not include the dancing girls. In the fall of 1999, Uncle Warren had banned performances and theatrical productions—especially dancing. With no TV or movies, this effectively put a stop to all forms of entertainment. He did so on the grounds that the end of the world was once again upon us, and we needed to focus on praying rather than lighthearted pleasures.
As Warren tightened his grip on the community, Kassandra grew more and more frustrated. Having the opportunity to help with various productions and the dancing girls had been one of her few outlets from Uncle Rulon’s home and a source of fulfillment. My sister had earned quite a reputation for her creative choreography, and her work as a dance instructor had touched the lives of young members.
Kassandra was just nineteen when she married the eighty-three-year-old prophet, and it had become increasingly difficult for her to cope with the restrictions that came with being one of his many wives. After years of encouraging Rulon’s wives to separate themselves from their families, Warren had recently commanded them to sever all their ties with the rest of the FLDS people. This way they would be at home under Warren’s watchful eye. To Kassandra it seemed odd that Warren continued to marry his father to so many young, pretty girls, despite the fact that Rulon was far too infirm to be much of a husband.
In Kassandra’s eyes, she was not a wife, she was just a number. She secretly longed just to hold the hand of a man she loved and take a quiet walk alone with him. But the longer she was married to the ailing Rulon, the more painfully obvious it became that she would never realize this kind of simple joy.
As Warren’s newest set of regulations began to set in, Kassandra’s frustration boiled over. She could see how Warren was manipulating and controlling his father’s family, and this made it hard for her to obey his directives. Just like most of the Wall kids, Kassandra had always had a freer spirit than many FLDS people, and she began to push back against the oppressive force that was bottling her up. While our sister Rachel, who was also married to Rulon, tried hard to obey Warren and remain at home, Kassandra couldn’t take the pressure. She continued to escape the constricting home environment by spending more time with our family and friends. Her desire to have an outlet and friendship, especially with some of the young men in the community, did not escape Uncle Warren’s notice, and he admonished her for not being at home with her husband. However, Kassandra was determined to find a sliver of companionship, and she continued to act out.
I
’d been married for just under three months when I celebrated my fifteenth birthday. As I turned a year older, I resolved to try to do a better job of following Uncle Warren’s directives and doing everything that the prophet expected of me. But in order to do this, I knew I would have to bury many of my instincts; if I let them shine through, I would never make it. My only choice was to put on a different act, to persuade other people that I was happily doing my duty. If I convinced others, I might even be able to convince myself.
Allen took me horseback riding in the mountains to celebrate my special day, and his kindness made me wonder if eventually I could grow to love him. His brother and sister-in-law joined us for my birthday ride. I actually caught myself enjoying time with the small group of people. That night, at Uncle Fred’s, the family had a birthday cake for me. As we gathered for prayer afterward, Uncle Fred surprised me with an “encouragement box.” It was a big gift-wrapped box that contained many smaller wrapped items that a woman would need for a new home. There were measuring cups, utensils, and tablecloths. At the very bottom, I found a small box containing a tiny wooden crib with a plastic baby doll wrapped in a blue blanket.
“That’s just a little encouragement to show you what you can have,” Uncle Fred said with a big smile.
We’d been having a good time. Everyone was laughing as I opened each of the gifts, and a little unsure how to react, I laughed along with them. I was touched by the thoughtful present and by the family’s taking a few minutes to honor my birthday. When I got to the baby, though, I felt suddenly pressured by the clear reminder that I was supposed to start having children. The gift seemed like another directive.
S
oon I started to feel like I had less and less time to think about my own problems. About a month after my birthday, Uncle Fred assigned me the role of keeping Lily encouraged about life. Lily had returned to Hildale earlier in the summer, lured back not by responsibility to her marriage but by the boy who had won her heart before her arranged marriage to Martin. I was told that prior to her return, she had taken refuge at the home of her brother, who had also left the FLDS, and the boy she liked had been instructed by Warren and Fred to find Lily and convince her to return. While it was not clear whether the boy made any promises of a life together, he made Lily feel that he wanted her back in the FLDS. In the end, the draw of his words was too much for Lily to resist and she returned to Hildale, only to find out the whole situation had been a cruel trap that had used her heart as bait.
Now I can see that Uncle Fred and Uncle Warren had been behind the whole thing. It was contradictory to see how they had enlisted a boy she wasn’t even supposed to like to convince her to come back, and she was sickened that they had used her emotions against her. This heartbreaking betrayal and being back in her unhappy marriage pushed Lily closer to the edge, causing her to try, once again, to take her own life with an overdose of pills. Like her first attempt, this too was unsuccessful, and her behavior from then on was strictly regimented by one of Fred’s wives.
If this wasn’t bad enough, Lily had also been shunned for her attempt to get out, and she had few friends left in the community. During her short time on the outside, she’d cut her hair to just below her shoulders and given herself bangs. FLDS women are forbidden from cutting their hair or even wearing it loose; to do so was considered disobedient to the prophet. Getting a haircut was what the very few girls who did leave did, since it was a show of defiance against the church. Now, though, her haircut only marked her as an outcast, and no matter where she went people identified her as trouble.
Given the extent of her isolation, I wanted to reach out to Lily. At the time, I was also finding myself increasingly isolated. Natalie and I had all but lost touch. As a married woman, I no longer fit in with my old friends, who were part of the young teenage group. I also didn’t fit in with the older adult married group. I was a fifteen-year-old bride, stuck in the middle. But I did have Lily.
Uncle Fred told me I would be held accountable for any of her missteps, and I became consumed by setting a good example. To encourage Lily, Uncle Fred sent the two of us on a camping trip with our husbands, and our stepbrother Jonathan and his wife, Jennie, came along. We did our best to enjoy ourselves, and for the most part we succeeded. Martin brought a four-wheeler, and we all went for rides. Jennie had a bubbly personality and brightened our trip. I really enjoyed spending time with her, and we became friends during our time in the wilderness. I was excited to find a “married” friend.
As part of my survival strategy, I had taken Warren’s words to heart, and by the time of that trip, I had stopped fighting Allen when he tried to have relations with me, realizing that it was something I just had to do. At times it also got me things I needed. I hated to have to ask Allen for money, but it was a lot easier to do if he was happy with me. Life was more bearable when he wasn’t angry, and I preferred getting the sex over with rather than being forced to watch him masturbate, or worse, having him put his fingers inside me to get him turned on.
On the camping trip, I tried to fit in and behave like any other married woman—talking and laughing when I could, trying to feel free and have some fun. It was easier to cut loose and relax away from the confines of Short Creek. This trip more than any other time proved to me that I could maintain the appearance of happiness for Allen and everyone else. I was keeping sweet just like they’d always told me to, and in the process I started to forget some of the doubts that I’d had about the FLDS as my wedding approached. For the first time in months, the questions I’d been asking myself about why God forced us to marry and broke families apart began to subside. Finally I was learning how to smile for the camera.
Still, there was always a lingering doubt about how sustainable the strategy was. A general fear resided in my stomach, a feeling that unhappiness was just around the corner. To survive, I had managed to trick myself into making an intolerable situation seem tolerable, but I had no idea how long I could keep it up. It was hard work, suppressing the real me, the loud voice that didn’t want to be with Allen and didn’t want to be married. I couldn’t keep that part of me silent forever. Eventually the chorus that I had quieted would start to escape. The question was not if it would happen, but when.
The judgments are coming very soon and our only survival is to keep sweet and obey what God tells us to do.
—
RULON JEFFS
A
s 2002 rapidly approached, Uncle Warren again began proclaiming the coming of Zion. He delivered ominous sermons warning about the mass destructions that were imminent and commanded all faithful members to waste no time in relocating to Short Creek.
I never knew how to feel about these supposed life-altering orations. “The wicked on this land are about to be destroyed,” Uncle Warren declared during one church meeting. “This is the land where the new city, the city of Zion, will be built. This land must be swept clean first. After the Great Destructions, everybody’s going to be wiped off, except for the priesthood people, under President Jeffs, who have kept sweet.”
I knew that as a good priesthood girl I should heed these cautionary statements, but my fifteen-year-old questioning mind couldn’t grasp a concept so ominous. For months Warren had been directing the priesthood people to congregate in southern Utah for the destructions. The 2002 Winter Olympic Games were coming to Salt Lake City that February, and people from all over the world would be gathering. Warren told us God was luring them to Salt Lake for the destructions, and all the FLDS followers still living in the Salt Lake Valley were directed to sell their homes and move to the twin cities to be with the priesthood people for the coming of Zion. A flood of followers overwhelmed the twin cities of Colorado City and Hildale. With no homes, they were instructed to move in with members already living in the area until they were assigned homes by the priesthood. But the influx was so great that some folks ended up camping out on the properties of others. Those who did find accommodations were living crammed two and three families to a home.
I didn’t know it at the time, but my father and Mother Audrey were among the throngs of people from Salt Lake who’d packed up their lives and headed south to be in place for the ascent to heaven. About a month after we’d been taken away from him, Dad had been rebaptized into the priesthood, but by that point, we had already been reassigned and he was not allowed to contact us. He had continued to live with Audrey at the Claybourne Avenue house for the next couple of years, and over time, Justin, Jacob, Brad, and Caleb had joined him there.
Brad was seventeen when Warren directed Dad and Audrey to Short Creek, and trying desperately to finish high school. While he’d been in foster care for some of the time after his escape from Uncle Fred’s, he’d recently left his foster home and been forced to find another living arrangement. Dad had offered to let him stay temporarily, and Brad had only been at the house for a short time when Dad announced the move to southern Utah.
Warren made it clear that while Dad and Audrey were welcome, my brothers were not. He did not want what he perceived as their rebellious influence anywhere near Short Creek. As far as the priesthood was concerned, parents were required to abandon “unworthy” children, and soon the practice became commonplace. At the prophet’s request, FLDS fathers drove problem children to neighboring towns, dropped them off, and told them never to contact their family again. Though I’m sure Dad didn’t want to abandon his sons, his devotion to the priesthood, like that of hundreds of other parents, was blind and absolute. He followed Warren’s command and told all of his sons that they could not join him and Audrey in Short Creek.