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“The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives” opens with a girl gang of mostly-blond women, slo-mo walking hand-in-hand like badass angels, backed by the towering Provo Utah Temple, all set to Sam Smith’s “Unholy.” Get it? They look like buttoned-up church ladies, but they’re really dangerous and sexy. Does “something unholy” mean they’re drinking coffee when they’re not supposed to or really into orgies? You never really know what members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints get into once Sunday service wraps, amiright?
The show’s fourth installment dropped this month, just as series regular, Taylor Frankie Paul, made even buzzier headlines when filming for season five of the show suddenly stopped due to an alleged domestic violence incident involving Paul and her ex, Dakota Mortensen. Paul was previously arrested in 2023 after Mortensen filmed her throwing a metal bar stool at him, which allegedly struck their 5-year-old daughter. Paul was tapped for season 22 of “The Bachelorette,” which was canceled once the shocking footage leaked this month.
As “The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives” series regular Whitney Leavitt said, “It’s going to be complete chaos.”
Fans eat up the sinful drama as fast as it’s served, regularly sending the series into the Nielsen Top 10. But do the nearly 7 million Latter-day Saints living in the U.S. feel represented by the made-for-reality-TV portrayal of Mormon wife life? From “soft-swinging” to cheating allegations, and a bedroom maneuver nicknamed “Fruity Pebbles,” let’s just say caffeinated soda isn’t the only thirst trap on the show. Unsurprisingly, most believers aren’t exactly seeing their deepest spiritual lives mirrored by the ladies of “Secret Lives.”
“Absolutely no desire to watch my religion be slandered by a bunch of women using the name of my faith for monetary gain,” one woman tweeted.
Relating the series to “The Godfather,” LDS dad of four Josh commented, “It’s like if you filmed a reality show with the Corleone family and said, ‘This is how faithful Catholics really live.’” We all know you “don’t ever take sides with anyone against the family.”
“I’ve only ever watched like a half of an episode, but it was so trashy and so unrealistic of what real Mormon housewives are, that it made me laugh,” says mother of four Suzy Muir Jeffords, who, with her husband, is raising a family that’s strong in the faith. “[They’re] probably girls that grew up Mormon and fell away from the church but then jumped on the reality TV bandwagon and thought this will be a great idea.”
Other church members called it “bigoted,” “an insult,” and a “filth broadcast.” X user Lindsey warned, “Don’t watch it, one glance at the promo tells me these women aren’t even close to my community’s traditions. The LDS women I know are focused on service, learning, and caretaking. We like crafting, babies, baking, our families of origin, Instagram, running, and our neighborhood.” Real world mom hustle doesn’t boast quite the same brand partnership draw that Taylor Frankie Paul’s viral “MomTok” community did to rake in roughly $75,000 per deal.
One family man noted, “My wife is nothing like these ladies. I haven’t personally seen the show but my daughters have, and have asked why they have to misconstrue the reality and why they try and put all ‘Mormon wives’ in a box.”
Mother of two and former active member of the church Nomi Wells doesn’t judge the stars of the show, but she admits, “If I was actively going to the temple, I wouldn’t feel comfortable being on a show like this because I would feel like I’m not representing the church properly.”
Noting the contrast between “The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives” and real life, she told The Daily Wire, “Clean language is expected, it’s frowned upon to cuss, and you’re not supposed to drink coffee. Excessive adornments are to be avoided — you are not to have multiple piercings or tattoos. You’re not supposed to sleep with anyone outside the confines of marriage, or even fool around.” More serious vows require members to wear special garments under their clothes. Much like the robe of a priest, a Jewish yarmulke, or a wedding ring, these garments serve as a symbolic reminder of sacred commitments.
Wells describes what’s known as a “Jack Mormon” (a little insider lingo), or someone who becomes a member of the church but strays from the virtuous life. That dalliance can be as mild as drinking coffee or getting a tiny hidden tattoo, or as serious as regularly drinking wine or promiscuity. “There’s a sliding scale of your Jack Mormon-ness. It can be very slight, or more major, like socially drinking, taking sexual partners, and basically living life like a ‘normal person,’” she says with a laugh. Not that we would recognize anyone like that from the Hulu series.
“I don’t think it’s a bad thing for people within the LDS religion to live in alignment and not always be perfect,” Wells adds, remembering her own journey in choosing the church and ultimately deciding to pursue a different path. But she laments the misuse of a massive platform to objectify the religion it claims to define. “They are not a representation of the gospel in its truest form,” Wells says of the show. “I think it gives the wrong idea about the sacredness of the religion as it’s meant to be.”
Some hang on to a silver lining amid the dark cloud of reality TV. “‘Secret Lives’ has perhaps single-handedly done more than any other media to bring the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints into mainstream cultural consciousness,” says Jasmin Rappleye, who is dedicated to educating followers on the gospel. But she suggests that instead of bad behavior stemming from the strict values of the church, the dysfunction depicted on the show comes from ignoring them.
“Faith ultimately plays a minor role in the plot, as it does in many of these women’s lives,” Rappleye says. “The final product ends up looking more like a cross between some ex-Mormon values and Utah-adjacent culture than anything resembling faith in the gospel of Jesus Christ.”
“I feel like the show is inappropriately named and should’ve been called something like ‘Secret Lives of Influencer Wives’ or something,” says Kari Ann. Still, the show might be having a net-positive effect for church growth. She adds, “I know people who have actually joined the church because of the show.”
Maybe it’s not designed to be anything more than reality TV junk food. But if “The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives” inspires even one viewer to consider something larger than themselves, the Fruity Pebbles just might be worth it.
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