The Reality of Polygamy

My dream is reflective of The Reality of Polygamy–the show that should really be produced. I’m sure that’s why there were real actresses and actors in this real-to-life scenario. Mine part was “the knowing” roll.

The main difference in my dream, is that when I could no longer bear the sharing, I could leave without the desperate fear of breaking God’s laws and of being sent to hell. Still, loving Sam was killing me.

Weather one is in and or out of patriarchal/religious polygamy, where sacrifice and an abundance of children are required, this dream IS The Reality of Polygamy.


Demi Demi, Sam ElliottSam’s most recent wife,) my sister-wife Meryl, and I were committed in an effort to share Sam with one-another. Since both of us loved him, he should have what he wants.

Demi and Sam flirted with one-another on the couch while I was busy in the kitchen nearby. They’d look at me now and then, as if talking about me, making fun of me—or maybe it was just plain, “what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” My stomach knotted and I held strong until I was sure I’d cry; still I forced myself not to.

When I got over to the couch, Demi decided to open the birthday gifts she’d received from rich friends across the country. For 20 minutes, she opened one beautiful outfit after another –all the time fussing about and holding them up to her shapely body and squirming in delight. Her eyes flashed at Sam and his stared back in delight. Each piece was gorgeous and would look more so when displayed on Demi’s perfect body.

Meryl StreepI was truly happy for her to have another array of elegant clothing, yet as envious as hell. My heart throbbed with pain—feeling the physical, social and economic comparisons she, Meryl, and I aroused from others everywhere we went together.

My tears held fast. I wouldn’t and couldn’t let either of them–especially Demi know how much pain I felt. I smiled my usual great big lie, and kept it pointedly in her direction. “You are gorgeous, and you will look even more beautiful in those cloths,” I told her.

Demi stood up and gave me a hug. “Thank you” she said audibly, so Sam would hear her. Then she stood back, patted my abdomen, and whispered, “I guess you’d have fit into them when you were younger and thinner.”

Demi was adept at knowing how to “look good,” to Sam, while trying to push Meryl and me out. She hoped we’d give up and leave, so she could have him to herself.

I was still attractive for being 20 years her senior. As Sam’s first wife, I knew he loved me since I’d given him the liberty of young wives’ bodies to satiate his libido, keep him younger and glorify his ego. Meryl and I were used up—still young enough; but we’d been traded in for another.

“I’m not doing this anymore,” I yelled at Sam. “Everyday, we suffocate while you become alive and younger with Demi. It just plain hurts too much!”

The next thing I was (shamefully) doing in my dream, was lying on a bench outside of our house, tied to the comfort and familiarity of Sam’s body next to mine, wondering, “how much longer will I sacrifice and suffer for this man?


When I was a teen, I asked my mother why it was okay for dad to take more young wives to sleep with, while she hardly ever got to spend any time with him. She told me that it was part of the “plan of salvation.” It was a wife’s duty to support her husband propagating with young women to help keep their husband young. “And if a wife really loves him, she’ll be happy for him, and keep sweet about it.”

This “religious” guilt training literally demands that women feel selfish, inferior and evil if they oppose their soul’s inner knowing. That is why it is religiously accepted by fundamentalists like Kody Brown to promise Mari, “I will be having more children… even without you…” and why his wives have no saintly “rights” to complain when it comes to Kody “keeping young,” with Robyn.

Brigham Young – is one of Fundamentalist’s honored prophets. BY Of Young’55 wives, 21 had never been married before; 16 were widows; six were divorced; six had living husbands; and the marital status of six others are unknown. 




A heartfelt poem I had to share.  Here’s the beginning…

A heartfelt poem I had to share.

My son’s wavering anger is killing my heart What about my children who are falling apart Watching more women buying into getting sold Teens selling themselves to leave or to stay in the fold…


My son’s wavering anger is killing my heart What about my children who are falling apart Watching more women buying into getting sold Teens selling themselves to leave or to stay in the fold My friend and brother whose hearts have too much pain to bear The religions men, who abuse others, claiming answer to prayer Families who refuse to live – to receive only when they die All the beautiful people who believe in this hellacious lie Too many lonely folks feeling the constant stab of rejection Some born of heartless souls – raised without love and affection The different – the weird – the not so understood Judged, condemned and banished by the righteous “who deem they should” Our brilliant, but homeless who hold to themselves little or no value Merely surviving the choices they don’t have – and won’t choose to do The old, the young and dishonored – beaten and raped in any different way Some without food, clothing to wear, and no safe place to play I too often feel the horrible pain – that all of us seem to share Our souls scream and rage inside – life feels so damn unfair These past years, weeks and days and hours have been Compelling me onward – if only I could leave… If only… then when

January 14, 2000 (Two years before I left divorced my husband)