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947 reviews for:
Unfollow: A Memoir of Loving and Leaving the Westboro Baptist Church
Megan Phelps-Roper
4.15 AVERAGE
947 reviews for:
Unfollow: A Memoir of Loving and Leaving the Westboro Baptist Church
Megan Phelps-Roper
4.15 AVERAGE
Leaving unrated as this was a REALLY abridged version of the book.
Overall though: meh.
Overall though: meh.
As a kid growing up in Kansas, I learned what protests were from the WBC. Only in recent years have I become more comfortable with this activity, graduating from the anxiety and horror that would instinctually grip me any time I saw someone holding a sign or chanting. When I was in high school and traveling to an academic competition, my coach slammed on the brakes when she saw a small group of people holding signs next to the highway on the way out of town. They were a few community members, wishing us well. My coach’s first instinct was that these signs belonged to a more notorious group and indicated trouble ahead.
It was while living in a city experiencing widespread protests against racism (marking the beginning of my ability to see protests in a new light) that I first read an essay by Megan Phelps-Roper. I don’t remember where it was published or many of the details years later, but every subsequent time the WBC was in the news I thought of her and wondered how she was doing. When I learned she had written a memoir, I placed a hold at the library - curious, but still a little uncomfortable enough with the subject matter to not jump on it immediately.
This memoir is not bombastic or absolutist in the nature of the author’s formative environment. Rather, it is quietly bold and nuanced while remaining direct (no excuses) and honest to Megan’s past and newfound perspective. The first hint of this gentle reflection and simultaneous demonstration of courageous non-avoidance is the book’s dedication to Megan’s parents (still members of the WBC and no longer in contact with Megan). Another detail I had overlooked or forgotten from Megan’s earlier essay was that her mother is Shirley Phelps-Roper. This name was the only WBC member (other than its reviled leader, Fred) that was recognizable to me. Shirley Phelps-Roper was frequently quoted, interviewed, and easily identifiable at protests. When Megan describes surreptitiously trying to cover her ears when her mother sang at church, I stifled a laugh. It’s been years since I’ve seen a WBC protest, but I could immediately recall the sound of her mother’s voice.
Megan vividly describes the experience of growing up within the WBC, gracefully acknowledging not only its deep institutional failings and injurious tactics but also the complex lives of the people who make it the center of their universe. So many times I caught myself wanting to further understand Shirley’s feelings and perspective (especially when Megan describes her wrenching final hours at home), then quickly following up those thoughts with a loud internal “NO! Are you kidding? You want to care about HER feelings?!?” It’s uncomfortable to acknowledge that empathy in a context that seems so morally unambiguous, but Megan describes being surprised and relieved upon leaving the church and being shown compassion by individuals she battled on Twitter (major lesson here: connect, don’t just comment). Also, WBC infamously didn’t care about feelings, so I suppose I shall as an act of counter-protest.
This isn’t the first memoir of a person to leave a hate group, nor will it be the last. But the uniqueness of this memoir is that Megan stays true to the person she has always been - motivated by love of her family and a conviction to understand the foundations of belief, wherever they may lead.
It was while living in a city experiencing widespread protests against racism (marking the beginning of my ability to see protests in a new light) that I first read an essay by Megan Phelps-Roper. I don’t remember where it was published or many of the details years later, but every subsequent time the WBC was in the news I thought of her and wondered how she was doing. When I learned she had written a memoir, I placed a hold at the library - curious, but still a little uncomfortable enough with the subject matter to not jump on it immediately.
This memoir is not bombastic or absolutist in the nature of the author’s formative environment. Rather, it is quietly bold and nuanced while remaining direct (no excuses) and honest to Megan’s past and newfound perspective. The first hint of this gentle reflection and simultaneous demonstration of courageous non-avoidance is the book’s dedication to Megan’s parents (still members of the WBC and no longer in contact with Megan). Another detail I had overlooked or forgotten from Megan’s earlier essay was that her mother is Shirley Phelps-Roper. This name was the only WBC member (other than its reviled leader, Fred) that was recognizable to me. Shirley Phelps-Roper was frequently quoted, interviewed, and easily identifiable at protests. When Megan describes surreptitiously trying to cover her ears when her mother sang at church, I stifled a laugh. It’s been years since I’ve seen a WBC protest, but I could immediately recall the sound of her mother’s voice.
Megan vividly describes the experience of growing up within the WBC, gracefully acknowledging not only its deep institutional failings and injurious tactics but also the complex lives of the people who make it the center of their universe. So many times I caught myself wanting to further understand Shirley’s feelings and perspective (especially when Megan describes her wrenching final hours at home), then quickly following up those thoughts with a loud internal “NO! Are you kidding? You want to care about HER feelings?!?” It’s uncomfortable to acknowledge that empathy in a context that seems so morally unambiguous, but Megan describes being surprised and relieved upon leaving the church and being shown compassion by individuals she battled on Twitter (major lesson here: connect, don’t just comment). Also, WBC infamously didn’t care about feelings, so I suppose I shall as an act of counter-protest.
This isn’t the first memoir of a person to leave a hate group, nor will it be the last. But the uniqueness of this memoir is that Megan stays true to the person she has always been - motivated by love of her family and a conviction to understand the foundations of belief, wherever they may lead.
Timely reflection on the need for honest open communication as well as graceful compassion.
dark
emotional
hopeful
informative
inspiring
fast-paced
Content Warnings
Graphic: Homophobia, Racism, Religious bigotry
I expected this to be good but it was even better than that! Phelps-Roper takes us through her whole life, growing up in Westboro Baptist Church, and then slowly arguing herself out of the theological certainty with some nudges from people on Twitter. It made me laugh, it made me cry, and it helped me understand myself better (I've also come full circle from half-hearted atheist to evangelical Christian back to agnostic, and all I've really learnt is, certitude can just be a front to cover up some sort of fear).
emotional
informative
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
informative
reflective
medium-paced
Let me preface this with one statement.
I HATE rating/reviewing memoirs. I feel like I'm rating their life and relevance. Everyone's story is important and worth being told. This rating and review are products of my own feelings, experiences, and ideas. The rating and review are not reflecting the author as a human, or downplaying her experiences and strife.
Unfollow is exactly what the title claims to be. Megan Phelps-Roper is the granddaughter of the founder of Westboro Baptist Church. A church who, through their vigilant picketing and slurs, has been widely considered a radical hate-group from the outside world. This book shares her earliest memories, picketing with her grandfather at 5 years-old, to recent times after her departure from the church. It follows her thoughts, developing ideas, family dynamic, daily life, religious devotion, and everything in between.
Unfollow does not try to demonize Westboro, nor does it raise the church on a pedestal. Westboro is the setting, not the object of focus. Megan shares her experiences being raised around these ideas and actions, and how her experiences shaped her mentally over time.
I truly enjoy delving into philosophy and psychology. Unfollow gives us both. I loved reading Megan's experiences and growing to understand (NOT condone!) Westboro's ideals. It was interesting to read about their community. What I found most intriguing though, was to get such an intimate understanding of Megan's particular experiences and all of her thoughts, especially when navigating the world outside of her childhood community. If you are intrigued by this similarly, I highly recommend this book. It's a coming-of-age like no other.
I HATE rating/reviewing memoirs. I feel like I'm rating their life and relevance. Everyone's story is important and worth being told. This rating and review are products of my own feelings, experiences, and ideas. The rating and review are not reflecting the author as a human, or downplaying her experiences and strife.
Unfollow is exactly what the title claims to be. Megan Phelps-Roper is the granddaughter of the founder of Westboro Baptist Church. A church who, through their vigilant picketing and slurs, has been widely considered a radical hate-group from the outside world. This book shares her earliest memories, picketing with her grandfather at 5 years-old, to recent times after her departure from the church. It follows her thoughts, developing ideas, family dynamic, daily life, religious devotion, and everything in between.
Unfollow does not try to demonize Westboro, nor does it raise the church on a pedestal. Westboro is the setting, not the object of focus. Megan shares her experiences being raised around these ideas and actions, and how her experiences shaped her mentally over time.
I truly enjoy delving into philosophy and psychology. Unfollow gives us both. I loved reading Megan's experiences and growing to understand (NOT condone!) Westboro's ideals. It was interesting to read about their community. What I found most intriguing though, was to get such an intimate understanding of Megan's particular experiences and all of her thoughts, especially when navigating the world outside of her childhood community. If you are intrigued by this similarly, I highly recommend this book. It's a coming-of-age like no other.