“It’s Not About the Sex” My Ass by Joanne Hanks, Steve Cuno Read Free Book Online Page B

me
domineering was like calling an avocado carnivorous. To this day, my children
call me a lawn chair—because I “fold so easily.”
    Soon after the wedding, Ginger took a week-long trip to
visit a relative in the Midwest. Our family cat deemed this the ideal time to
wriggle into Ginger’s room and mark her favorite pillow. If you own cats, I
needn’t tell you that anyone living in the continental United States at the
time probably smelled it. I cleaned the room before Ginger returned, but alas,
the conspicuously missing favorite pillow, which I’d had no choice but to burn,
demanded an explanation. Upon my letting the cat out of the bag, Ginger decided
she needed her own place.
    That much wasn’t necessarily a blow. It is not uncommon in
polygamist societies for a man to maintain multiple homes. If you visit Salt
Lake City, you can tour the home Brigham Young built where he lived with his
first few wives, as well as the home he built next door to house additional
ones. Ginger rented a small house. Judith and I helped her move, paint, and fix
up. After that, she continued coming to our house to join us for meals, family
prayer, and family meetings.
    Shortly after the move Ginger took sick for a few days.
Judith and I gave her a blessing, something mainstream Mormon women don’t do,
but that early Mormon women did. Of course, Ginger insisted that Judith officiate
in the blessing, and that I assist but keep quiet.
    At last with three wives of his own, Jeff began spending two
consecutive nights with each of us in succession. Ginger marked an S on her
calendar for each night they had sex. When she believed she wasn’t getting her
fair share, she complained.
    It wasn’t working out for her or us. Jeff discussed the
problem with Harmston. Harmston discussed the problem with God. By way of
answer, God revealed the Doctrine of Rescue. It held that a plural wife who was
unhappy in her marriage could be unattached from one husband and reattached to
another. The only stipulation was that the new husband had to hold the same or
higher priesthood as the about-to-be-dumped husband. Harmston had no interest
in Ginger. He was, however, eagerly eyeing a growing number of other, unhappily
attached plural wives who happened to be young and attractive. Since Harmston
outranked everyone in priesthood, the requirement that they move on to someone
with “the same or higher priesthood” was soon to prove repeatedly convenient
for him.
    Thus authorized by God, Ginger commenced flirting with a TLC
man whose wife professed belief in polygamy but had, to that point, refused to
let him take any plural wives whatsoever. Now, all of a sudden, she experienced
a change of heart. If her husband wanted for his second wife an unattractive,
older woman with physical challenges who would add to instead of take from the
family budget, well, OK, anything for the Lord.
    That marriage didn’t endure either. Ginger packed up and
left Manti. But not for good. She reappeared a few years later with an attorney
and sued the TLC for $300,000—allegedly the sum she had contributed to it
while living in Manti, plus extra for her trouble.
    The suit was the closest thing to a genuine news story to
have popped up in sleepy Manti in years, so the local radio station gave it
extensive coverage. I was embarrassed when the news announcer read off the
names of all the defendants, since Jeff was one of them.
    As you might imagine, finding a fair venue for lawsuits
involving polygamists presented difficulties in Utah. Most judges in the area
were mainstream Mormons. They had no fondness for polygamists flouting the law
and embarrassing their beloved church. Yet this case was no simple matter of
socking it to the polygamist weirdos. Ordering a religion, even an obscure one,
to refund contributions could set a dangerous precedent. Socking it to the TLC
could lead to socking it to the mainstream Mormon Church and beyond. Not that
the local Mormon judges cared much about the