I was having lunch just now, leafing absently through the Deseret Book catalogue that arrived in the mail a few days ago (I'm not really sure why we receive it), and I saw an advertisement for the product pictured above. It's a journal for boys, basically, created on the assumption that boys need to be convinced that journaling won't compromise their masculinity. Note that the cover is designed to look like something assembled from cardboard and duct tape, and that it carries the both defiant and assuring disclaimer, "Not a diary!" We're evidently to understand that a "diary" would be girly. Ditto for a journal made in the conventional style: the elegant binding, the faux gold lettering, the inkwell engraved on the front cover—the kind of journal I and most every other elder I knew took on our missions. How did we fail to recognize the feminine nature of these products?
According to Deseret Book's ad copy, "this one-of-a-kind journal has an important benefit, as the author states, 'The following pages will prove to future generations that you were indeed a manly man.'" Among the topics the book gives you to write about are: "manly injuries: stitches, broken bones, and lacerations," "moments of manly courage and bravery," "video games I've mastered or conquered, "sports I play," and "times I've shed a manly tear."
Extending the logic of this product, perhaps Deseret Book could persuade the Church to start producing editions of the scriptures designed to look more "manly." There are plenty of evangelical models on the market they could emulate: Bibles sold in metal casing stamped with the emblems of the different branches of the armed forces; Bibles with color inserts featuring athletes bearing their testimonies; just a couple weeks ago I saw a NASCAR edition. Those are scriptures that will prove to all who see you reading them "that you are indeed a manly man." What kind of limp-wristed pansy carries around leatherbound scriptures with gilded pages?
Jana Riess pointed out, like, 15 years ago how Mormon pop culture and marketing reinforce gender stereotyping. So I can't say I'm surprised by this product. But I'm still going to treat myself to the moral luxury of being appalled.
And I'm going to toss out a half-formed idea for consideration. Let's say you're a pre-teen Mormon boy growing up in a culture that equates masculinity with mastering video games and playing sports and breaking bones. But let's say that you're not really into sports and video games. Let's say you're more of the pensive, bookish, artistic type. Let's say you're sensitive and emotional, prone to shedding much more than the occasional "manly tear." And as you're growing up, approaching adolescence, you're becoming increasingly aware that you don't fit what your culture and your church regard as the conventional masculine mode. And at the same time, you're growing up in a church which equates homosexuality with gender confusion; and adults who are aware that you're out of step with what they regard as normal gender behavior are getting worried about what this means for your sexuality, and intentionally or not they're sending signals about that; and then you may have peers who are perfectly blunt in expressing their suspicions about your sexual identity ("Are you a fag?"). And as you grow into adolescence, you absorb these suspicions so that they become your own...
And thus a self-loathing candidate for Evergreen is born—a product, ironically, of the very same gender stereotypes that Evergreen is supposed to help confused, "same-sex attracted" people learn to live by.
The Book of Mormon tells us that "male and female . . . are alike to God" (2 Ne. 26:33). Latter-day Saints, however, are still far from convinced.
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