Book Review: Hippie Girl (and my failed first day of my experiment)

Well - day 1. Ha. Ha.  I think I violated ALL 25 of the recommendations. I have this troublesome cold, my husband was sent on the road prematurely (less than 24 hours at home is not enough of a break for him or me) unexpectedly and my children were super-cranky.  So, I'm forgiving myself and waiting until Wednesday to start my 40 days.

In the meantime, I decided to read a book (which I didn't like, so reader beware).

 

I heard this author, Ingrid Ricks, speak on UPR (Utah Public Radio).  She was very kind-sounding, so I wanted to give her memoir a try.  I make an effort to keep an open mind and to explore my religion from every angle.  In the end, though, I found that this book has become popular for exactly the reason I suspected: loosely-veiled anti-religion rhetoric.

I really struggled with one aspect of this book in its entirety. The author paints a horrible picture of her mother.  In the interview, she repeated multiple times how much she loved her mom, but, in the book, we see a woman who may as well be hitting her daughter with wire hangers and talking about her "dirty pillows." (Pop culture references courtesty of Mommy Dearest and Sybil. If you want to see a one-sided and somewhat cruel representation of a mother, I highly recommend these two camp classics).

Her mother is villainized for getting into a bad relationship and permitting that relationship to impact the daughter.  It's pointed out several times that the mother is a poor immigrant. All of these unfortunate circumstances are blamed on "Mormon beliefs."  This was my first frustration.  Having worked with low income people for many years, I can tell you that abuse, bad relationships, and a misunderstanding of how to raise children is not exclusive to a Mormon upbringing.  However, the author neglects to mention this. It's just blah-blah-blah Mormons are evil.  

Even on NPR, it was brought up that her mom "made her pray 7 times per day."  I decided to add up how often I pray with my children.  We pray in the morning, at each meal and before bed.  Well, that's 5.  Apparently, I'm 2 prayers away from religious zealoutry and child abuse. Yay me (insert sarcastic tone of voice).  This was my 2nd issue with the book: the mother's attempts to share with her child the things of her heart are painted so ugly.  I know the mom made a huge mistake by marrying a jerk (But seriously? A homeless vet with previous ex-wives? When you add together mom's current choices with the much-lauded but totally dysfunctional ex-husband, you realize that this woman struggled to find love.  She likely had very little self-value.  It wouldn't have mattered where she lived, or what religion she hailed, she would likely have made poor romantic choices.), the mom tries to do things right,too.  

I feel that being a parent is so ridiculously impossible and this book illustrates that reality.  This mother tried to teach her daughter to pray and now she has to endure a NYT bestseller telling the whole world how "unbearable" her attempts were.  As parents, are we not allowed to share ourselves with our children?  Can we not tell them what matters to us because maybe in the future they will make different choices and be mad at us for trying to be authentic to who WE are?  This is just another example of what impossible expectations we have as a culture for our parents.  I suppose I should tell you, I had my boys say their prayers last night on grains of rice while I beat them repeatedly and called out demons.  After all, if you're going to paint me as a religious zealot and abusive parent, then I want it to be accurate. (I am kidding.  The worst thing that happened to my boys last night is that I yelled at them for dawdling on their way to bed.  My son did tell me I hurt his feelings, so I imagine I've destroyed him forever by not being some whacked-out perfect version of a grown-up Polyanna. Maybe I'll demand some royalties if I'm forced to listen to him blather on about how my very best in somewhat trying circumstances and given my status as an imperfect human being has so completely failed him.)

I won't belittle my 2rd point: the family's complete non-adherence to the actual faith as it's taught and commanded.  I don't want to add to the mother's burden (Oh my. I just want to give that woman a hug and help her to figure out what makes a good man).  My only beef is that the author is a journalist. By trade, she should know to do her research and to be clear when individual experience deviates from general experience.  But that doesn't tend to sell anti-Mormon books very well. (Oops - I violated my "Don't be so sensitive and bitchy" New Years' Resolution.)

So... if you already hate Mormons and think religion is just oppressive wishwash, you will LOVE this book.  For the rest of us who have grown up enough to realize that individual people are never perfect representations of an ideal and that mothers deserve compassion not criticism, you will likely find this book very disappointing.