NOT being mormon vs. living in utah

   When I moved to Montana from Salt Lake City, Utah at the ripe age of ten, I had no idea what stereotypical middle school chitter-chatter awaited me. It seemed like all the little fifth graders had taken a class about Utah's populous of LDS Mormons; they knew statistics, ratios, even stuff about the Salt Lake City Temple that I didn't have a clue about. I grew accustomed to the typical conversation:

   "Where did you move from?" -- seemingly innocent and non-biased ten year old

   "Salt Lake City" -- innocent self

   "You Mormon?"

   It came to the point where I would answer the question about my forthcoming with: "Salt Lake City, and I'm NOT Mormon!!" My mom quickly put an end to that, however, explaining that it made me sound judgemental...wait a second...

   As the years progressed and my peers were no longer interested in my previous homeland, the rhythm of the conversation was lost somewhere in the back of my pre-teen brain, assumed never to be spoken again.

   It wasn't until attending college and moving away to a new town with new people that I realized the torturous concept of where-are-you-from's had slid back into the spotlight of conversation. Distraught, I desperately tried to remember how to explain to my fellow college-goers about moving from Utah to Montana when it hit me...these aren't ten year olds! These are eighteen and twenty and thirty-seven year olds! So I quit wracking my brain, knowing that mature people didn't ask such presumptuous and irritating questions.

   The day came to introduce myself to my first acquaintance of my college experience: my freshman orientation roommate. We chatted about the weather, about hair, about the off-colored sticky substance stuck to her bed's metal frame...and then came the moment of maturity: asking about each other's lives.

   "So, where are you from?" -- my awesome new friend/roommate I immediately called my mom to tell about

   "Well, I moved to ____ when I was ten" -- self, feeling mature

   "Where did you live before that?"

   "...Utah"

   "That's cool....you Mormon?"

   Unfortunately, I was very wrong. If this had been the only instance of the direction of such conversations, it wouldn't have been a big deal. However, I have discovered that nearly every person I meet and allow discussion to bend toward inferring about each other's hometowns ends up with that same damn question. Sometimes I'll reply "Utah" and they'll just kind of look at me with wide eyes and nod, as if they "understand" that I'm Mormon. That always gets me, though, because their reaction is similar to the time I told my mom I wanted to go on birth control...like it's some taboo subject, a word that should go unsaid or only muttered under your breath like he-who-must-not-be-named...(nerd alert!)

   Other times, the person I am conversing with won't even skip a beat. Something like this: "Where were you born?" "Utah" "So you're Mormon?"

   Really, people?

   The only good thing that has become of this seemingly endless cycle in my life is that I now know how to handle the situation when meeting someone else who also hails from Utah. Our conversations go something like so:

   "So where are you from?" -- experienced and wise self

   "...Utah" -- person from Utah

   Then I just open my eyes wide and nod, I totally understand.