Chapter One. Start Here.

I am sitting in the back seat of Pastor Strict’s black sedan. His wife, all suited up in her floral dress and impressively sized bun resembling the foot tall soft-serve cones from one fantastic place called Belt’s (in Stevens Point and worth the trip), is sitting submissively – and quietly – at his side. I have my uncut hair braided (more on that later) and am next to my husband, and we are off to a revival. The music will be amazing, the content, well… not so much.

“I got the pattern for these from my friend in the church up North”, I say. I am wearing what was called a split skirt back in the day, a beautiful peach floral cotton… well, if you pictured 80’s wallpaper, you’re right. I am doing my best to do the right thing, and doing the right thing means following the rules, and following the rules means no cutting your hair, no pants, no jewelry, no makeup, or no anything else that might possibly look like you’re relevant to society.

Pastor Strict in his Texan drawl: “Sister Monica, anything with two legs is of the devil. What you need is a proper skirt.”

…And with that sentence, one more bit of freedom, of personality, of my self expression, is stripped away.

And I can FEEL IT.

I gaze out the dusty car window, silent tears streaming down my cheeks. I mustn’t complain, I mustn’t think badly of Pastor Strict. Guess I’m gonna have to pitch my homesewn creation and get me some God-approved skirts…

How easily we can assign control to another human being, and in this case holy shit, did I ever! This is just a beginning snapshot of where I started the journey I’m writing about, the United Pentecostal Church in this case, though you will hear about several others. I do not wish to discuss doctrine, I am telling my story strictly for entertainment value, because sometimes truth is stranger than fiction, and man, let me tell you it is one straaaannnge story.

I start with this story because it was one of the watershed moments in giving up Monica, in giving up who I was as a person. But don’t worry, I’m going to get Monica back, and then some, heh heh.

I have waited a loooong time to tell my tale. I am changing names and locations, and am taking liberties with conversations in which I may not recall specific words, but will tell the gist of the story. Don’t take it too seriously, I certainly haven’t.

This is a true story, or at least based on a true story, as much as I recall. As far as you know.

One thing I can assure you, it’s not boring.

Enjoy!

-Monica