My Early Childhood In the FLDS: Age 1-5

I was born in Sandy, Utah to Warren Jeffs and Monica Jessop. When 4 months old my parents moved to Hildale, Utah because the judgments were coming. My childhood was just beginning.

It’s the age of innocence, you and me were both innocent in our early years, and our perception of the world was being formed.

“There goes my little red fire engine” dad would say as I would occasionally scream at the top of my lungs as a typical two year old.

Dad Is In Control

As I tell this story understand: Dad was in control. My mother did what he said or else. And she did it happily, at least at first. She was in love. Dad was charming enough in those days.

I have a rather strange first childhood memory, my mother telling me to never touch my private parts. That came straight from dad. I am confident he told every one of his wives that had a boy to teach them: Don’t touch yourself. That of itself is not a bad thing in my opinion, but this is dad for you: He was terrified his kids would do what he did and he put extreme measures in place to make sure they didn’t.

See, I was an obedient kid and took what I was told to do seriously. I considered skipping this, you might say, embarrassing memory; but the more I thought on it the more I realized that it affected my life in an extreme way. As I got older I thought back on my childhood, what was my earliest memory? “Don’t touch yourself wrong”, it always came to mind.

I am telling you this for one reason: controlling your children is unhealthy. Guiding them is healthy. Dad wasn’t going to let his boys grow up and be men. By god he was going to control our sexual appetites, or perhaps push them down and make them non existent. It is not healthy. Dude, 18 years later I was being sent away from the group for “self-enlivening”, dads way of saying “masturbation”. And it was not because I was masturbating, it was because he was (probably still is) masturbating daily and he assumed I was.

You see why I wanted to include this memory? Because thats what the flds is about. Let me tell you what dad did with everyone: control their sexuality, punish it, or make them use it to his ends. If your in the flds you cannot see this, if your out it is way too obvious. Sexuality is something you don’t think about in the flds. But it is used to control you.

A Few Tips For Cult Leaders

Pro tip for cult leaders, control sexuality! Diminish people for their desires. Tell the boys to treat the girls like snakes and vice versa. Start when they are young and you will have control over their minds. Make it the culture. You need a good foundation, like the gospel. You don’t need to do this intentionally, although I assume you will be more successful that way.

Cult leaders: Believe the good you preach. So much that you act it out, preach it from the heart. But do not forget the control you are seeking; keep your aim in the back of your mind.

Controlling Childhood Creativity

I felt somewhat inferior to everyone around me. I don’t know that I acted that way, but I felt that way. Dude, I had some fabulous days in my youth, don’t get me wrong. I could be a jolly kid just like you!

But the truth is I was often being punished for expressing my thoughts and so was everyone around me. You see, dad taught the moms how to teach us, what was and was not fine. The power the mothers felt, the success they felt, the approval they got came from us kids thinking, doing and feeling how dad wanted. They gained happiness, approval, and success from suppressing our desires to explore and create.

I can see a few moms in the back of my mind reading this, they are infuriated. “This kid has gone to hell just like his dad said he would!”

These odd childhood moments avoiding sexuality stand out in my mind so strongly. From when we were really young we could not put out hands in our pockets. Something was there and we definitely should not be scratching at it! When the moms came into our rooms at night, they wanted us to keep our hands outside of the blanket. When I asked why? “Father said thats how we stay pure.”

Look, I was planning on telling some childhood stories of getting wild, but as I started thinking back, these odd things I remember so damn well. Keep your hands outside of your blanket so you are not scratching your balls! O dear God, I am just laughing about this. The last thing I ever thought of as a 5 year old or an 8 year old was scratching my balls. I didn’t know what they did. I didn’t know nothing. lol. Don’t put your hands in your pockets. Don’t put them under your blanket at night. Jeez, dad was going to make sure we did not scratch our balls.

“One minute of children being alone can ruin them eternally” dad explained in a training to the flds. Makes me wonder if that one minute in his childhood ruined him eternally. Again, children need guidance, but this was done wrong.

Many flds families were not as much this way. Boys and girls mingled much more in other families. And by mingled, I mean be around each other. In dads family we scarcely got the opportunity to say a word to our own sisters. For damn sure we did no activities together. Not much more than a quick hello. Why? Dad, did you have a problem with your sisters? Are the rumors true after all? Look, that kind of separation from your siblings is so unhealthy.

Your Not Good Enough

I am writing the story of my youth, but that is not really what has stood out in my mind. It was not the troubles I endured. Not the joys I had. It was the odd things we could not do that stand out the most. It was that I could never be good enough.

You might wonder if my mother thought I was good. Yes, and she did give me much encouragement. But that wasn’t what mattered to me or to her. My success was determined by dad.

Did years of frustration build up within me, years of “you need to be pure” and “you can’t think about girls”. Years of “don’t have an impure thought”. Years of “you are not good enough” after I did everything I possibly could, after I obeyed every order, prayed always, exerted myself constantly. Yes it built up a ton of frustration, enough for me to forget everything for a moment and just recognize how odd it was. And ask one question: why?

Dad. Thats why. What was he afraid of? Why did he send so many men away? Why could I never be good enough? Never. And why did people around me not see that I was doing everything I could? Was it the same for them? It was. Dad is the one that taught me we judge others by how we see ourselves. Is that how he judged us?

I could set off a nuclear bomb, terrorize everyone, and still I would have terrible frustration about this within. So whats the solution? Is that why I often feel extremely angry within? I am not sure what I am angry about, other than success has never been achievable. Is the solution success?

Fuck “your not good enough” after you do everything you can and then some. Fuck that. I need to fucking say that. It sucked. I did everything, everything I did or did not want to do and it was not good enough. Never. Fuck that. Fucking fuck that. Don’t do that to your kids or you fucking suck.

As God lives I vow to not live under such a mental situation again. How fucking demoralizing and yet we still kept trying. Our eternity rested on it. Heaven and hell weighed us in the balance daily. Fuck up too bad and your out. Try all you can and your never good enough. Will you “endure to the end?” By God I did and now I will endure to the end on my own terms.

This is a messed up story of my early life, but there is not really another way I could tell how I felt. I spent my days just as my dad said to: “Praying always.”

Leaving Short Creek

When I was 5 year old we moved away from short creek. I will not relate this as an adult, I will tell it as I remember it as a kid. I want to tell it from the mind of a 5 year old. Now of course as a 5 year old I did not know all the details, but this is how I felt.

Times were scary. My dad had just become the Prophet of God about a year earlier. We were Gods chosen children and the devil was doing everything he could to destroy us. These days were not normal, God was moving on with those who were prepared. And I sure wanted to be good enough. Could 5 year old me do it? Yes. Yes I could.

Dad sent all the children out to play tag. This would be one of the last times it was ever acceptable to play. He sent all the moms to their rooms with strict instructions to not come out unless he said to. Everyone knew shit was going down. Would they be apart? Were they good enough? Would they be taken out by Gods judgments and left behind? I can only assume the thoughts going through all the adults minds. But I know the feeling, exactly. Surreal. Would they be apart?

While the children played, dad and his trusted friends scurried about to gather stuff up. The children were going. Dad said the devil would destroy them if he did not remove them from short creek. The air was stiff. But excitement thrilled everyone who was participating. They were on the Lords errand. Zion was going to be redeemed. The pure in heart were moving on.

I think we got in suv vehicles and drove awhile. It was dark. I remember the sadness of people parting. My mother was not coming. No, she was not coming to Zion. Was she not good enough? Would mother be destroyed by the judgments of God?

Did any of the children’s mothers get to come? Mostly no. Tears ran down everyones faces as we parted. I said goodbye to mother but then said goodbye again. When would I see her next? What about my 11 month old younger sister, who dad told my mother: It is your choice if she comes with me to Zion. And come she did. What about all the other children and their mothers? What about Barbara and her children, she had cancer. Would she see them again?

We drove away. Where were we going? Zion. We drove maybe a half hour. Then we stopped. Dad stood at the door of a motor home and he personally lifted each of us into it. It was important no cars drove by and saw the sight. Headlights approached as dad quickly grabbed the last child and closed the door to the motor home. Surely the devil was in that car. But it just drove by.

“We are going to Zion” he declared. And then we were on our way. The drivers job: Don’t fucking get pulled over. The children’s job? Be quite and do not get up where a car could see you. We took turns poking our head up and looking out the big window but were quickly reprimanded. Police seeing that would be sure to pull us over. It was quite. For hours. Really quite from what I remember. We were on our way to Zion.

Dad fell asleep for a short time against one of his wives shoulders. He was tired. He had just rescued his children. The devil was coming for us. Now it was because of his faith we were not getting pulled over.

Arriving To Zion

Six or so hours later we arrived and slept on the floor that night. There were really tall pine trees. It felt safe. I had never seen snow like this before. It felt secluded. Is this Zion? It was a beautiful place in the Colorado mountains but to me it was Zion. Dad called it R1 or Refuge 1.

And what about my mother? I got to call her the next day or maybe it was 2 or 3 days. My memory is blurry back then. Some gentiles were coming and we had to go to a different house to call our mothers. We dashed with one of the men from one house to the other while the gentiles were not looking. I don’t remember if they were there working on the power supply or if we were just avoiding the neighbors. Mother got to come a few months later. I had never been so long without my mother, but the future was sure to change that.

Barbara who had cancer stayed in short creek for a long time. She wrote a song for her children. It was an flds type, but growing up it was one of my favorite songs. It kinda gives me the chills to think of it, it was how she was feeling and it was a comforting song in those situations, although it might seem odd now.

“O my dear little angels, how I love you so! You have gone with your father, I knew you must go. Though I am not with you, I miss you tonight, For I long to kiss you and hold you so tight”

“You have gone to build Zion, and father is there. He will teach you and guide you, so don’t ever fear; But follow his footsteps, choose only the right, Being obedient from morn until night”

“I yearn for the time that well meet again. O my darlings be faithful! Lets endure to the end”

I was at this place in Colorado with a bunch of my siblings for about one month. Many of our mothers came to be with us and those were happy times. See, dad made us sad, but happy too. But to us it was “Gods will” and that is what ultimately made us happy. God called mother, or so I thought and that made me happy.

Then we got in a motor home and drove 17 hours to R17 or Refuge 17. Not sure why dad used 17 but he was big on that number. He told his wives “to me you are all 17.” A little sus huh.

And that concludes the basics of my life up until I was 5. I have so many sibling that have all had tough times, good and bad, sweet and sour. But I think we would all agree that separating mothers from their children is very unhealthy. In the way it was done it is very emotionally abusive. That was the start of it, it got much worse for everyone.

I will write the next part of my story from 5-8 years old next. Then from 8-12. Thank you for reading! I am excited to be on life’s adventure with all of you:)

Read this article titled: Journey To Godhood: A Reflection On Childhood Aspirations

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