Nicole Hardy Quotes

If the second-greatest commandment is to love our fellow man, where is that commandment in this? Dear God, where is the love in this?

This is the kind of behavior that I was dreading: she doesn't see that what she's doing is for her, not me. She doesn't see that it's disrespectful. Dismissive. Condescending. As if my reasons aren't real.

It didn't take long to figure out I'll never go back to teaching public high school. Why would I, when I can make virtually the same money waiting tables, have no stress, and work half the hours? When I can give away or trade my shifts if I need time to write or study. When I'll never have to wake up early, take my work home, or talk to anyone's parents
unless it's in regards to the nightly specials, the Spanish grenache that pairs beautifully with our house-made mole sauce.

There have to be men out there like us: committed to the Gospel, if not the culture of the church, she says. I nod in agreement. Mormon, but normal. Two Normons in a sea of Boremons and Whoremons.

For Mormon women, however, motherhood is an identity, rather than a role.

No prophet or apostle has lived a celibate life is what I'd like to tell her. No one who's ever told me celibacy is a viable option has ever been celibate. They don't even use the word. They say 'abstinent,' which implies there will be an end. They don't consider what my life will be like, if I never marry. Which is likely, given who I am, and the ways I'm different. People stand at the pulpit, or they come to my house, and tell me not to need what every human needs. Afterward, they go home and undress. They lie down next to the person they love most, or once did.

My throat closes against the words I can't swallow, not one more time. Because it's not true, what they're telling me
what they've been telling me since I was a child. There cannot be only one way to be a woman. My identity cannot be something I've never felt.

It's good you have something to keep you occupied." I smile stiffly and turn away from her. Because I'm this far from asking what the fuck she thinks I do all day. But even through the surge of anger that's rising, I remind myself of what I know is true: she means well. They all do. These women want me to receive all of God's blessings, many of which can be bestowed only after my temple marriage, which should be my first objective. Everything I've done so far (my two graduate degrees, my international travels, my teaching career, my friendships, my creative pursuits), is "preparing." Treading water, keeping time, staying busy until real life begins.

You are the one who takes care of you, I tell myself.

Rather than envy, anticipation, or joy, what I feel when I look at the bride is a shortness of breath. I hear the echo of doors closing, as if every one of her life's decisions has just been made.

Already I'm wondering if it will happen again, and when: that what I've been conditioned to fear, taught to avoid, will instead reveal the strangest, most inexplicable beauty.