Mimi Bascom slips on her plush hairband and dabs her cheeks with a makeup brush as she begins to wade into claims about her faith swirling on the internet.
In one video, she unpacks a comment she often hears that members of her faith — The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints — are “suspiciously nice.” Bascom, a content creator and mother of two toddlers in northern Utah, has always viewed the general observation as a point of pride, she said, but the qualifier “suspicious” made her wonder: Where exactly is the line between being “nice” and being perhaps unsettlingly so for some — “too nice”?
What people often find off-putting, Bascom explains, is a niceness that doesn’t feel genuine. People also tend to assume ulterior motives, so simple kindness can be read as fake or even as an attempt to convert.
“I totally see where people are coming from. … Does it mean I think we should be toning down our niceness?” she says, applying an egg-shaped blender on her cheeks. “No. If anything, I think more of this is about the culture and the society that we live in than us.” In her experience in the church, she said, most church members genuinely care and want to help.
Bascom started her Instagram account in middle school, but after noticing more critical content about the Church of Jesus Christ on her feed, she decided to start sharing her faith on her account.
In other “get ready with me” videos, she reacts to faith-related clips from “The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives” and showcases her church-appropriate outfits. “I feel like, truly, I’m just putting out my lifestyle online, and my religion just happens to be part of that,” Bascom told me.
Bascom, 28, is part of a growing wave of Latter-day Saint influencers who are building their social media presence around their faith to help counter what they see as distorted and flattened portrayals of their faith on the internet and on reality TV.
Many are young millennials and Gen Z with a penchant for bringing their voice and personality to add context and understanding to perceived challenging aspects of their faith: women and the priesthood, the Latter-day Saint health code, the historicity of scripture, and what it means to be gay within the faith.
But what unites these creators is a fluency in both their faith and digital culture, which uniquely positions them to help believers and outsiders distinguish between lived culture, tired stereotypes and the actual teachings of their religion.
At a recent gathering of Latter-day Saint creators called Peacemakers Summit, Bascom and fellow Latter-day Saint female creators formed a circle and broke into a dance, mimicking the signature MomTok dance.
“We were not as good of dancers as them, obviously,” Bascom chuckled. “But we just thought we would put our own spin on it.” They called it “LDSTok.”
The so-called ‘Mormon moment’
Back in 2012, media attention around Latter-day Saints focused on Mitt Romney’s presidential campaign and the Broadway satire “The Book of Mormon.” Today, the faith has found itself in the cultural spotlight again. Women with ties to the faith have been showing up across mainstream entertainment, from “The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives” and “Dancing With the Stars” to the “Chicago” musical and “The Bachelorette,” which was recently canceled after a video involving domestic abuse with Taylor Frankie Paul was published by TMZ. Meanwhile, Ballerina Farm’s Hannah Neeleman has drawn attention for more wholesome reasons after welcoming her ninth child.
But this second “Mormon moment,” as New York Magazine has dubbed it, is not so much about religion but about how some Latter-day Saints are navigating and reshaping their public image amid broader societal shifts: women going into the workforce, more open engagement with questions about sexuality and the steady rise of secularization in the United States.
“For the first time, Latter-day Saints are part of the interfaith dialogue on a popular media level,” said Cade Alvey, a co-host of “All Those in Favor,” a podcast that weaves together Latter-day Saint themes and cultural commentary.
Lauren Yarro, a 29-year-old who hosts a podcast called “Blonde Apologist,” made it her mission to tackle complex topics like motherhood and career, religious OCD and pornography. Young creators feel compelled to get online to “ratify some of the negativity that’s out there,” she said. She added: “We’re having this huge Mormon moment, and I’m grateful that there are so many people in this space.”
The phenomenon is not totally unique to Latter-day Saints. Heidi Campbell, a professor of religion and digital media at Texas A&M University, uses the term “religious digital creatives” to describe a broader class of believers who have found in social media a new kind of pulpit.
All across TikTok and YouTube, Catholic nuns, rabbis and practitioners of paganism are all using the tools of the influencer economy to crack open their traditions to wider audiences. Many start by offering corrective narratives about their faith and often find themselves as “unintentional influencers.”
“It’s just showing that you can still be religious and be fully engaged in contemporary life,” she said.
Among Latter-day Saints, the efforts to spread the faith are gaining traction and support. A group of creators recently set a goal to collectively get a billion views a month, according to Christian Williams, co-host of “The Holy Rebellion,” which has more than 42,000 followers on Instagram.
“I think this is the tip of the iceberg and we’re actually just seeing the very beginning of an explosion of voices online,” Williams said. He and his co-host hosted a Zoom call recently where they helped about 30 people start their own channels right on the spot.
There are resources for those who want to get started. The Faith Creators Alliance, an independent advocacy organization, supports more than 70 creators with over a dozen media-related services — studio space, editing, mentoring, back-office support — all to create faith-rooted Latter-day Saint content on their own channels.
Kyle Tresner, president and executive director of the Alliance, views the venture as a kind of incubator for creators who may have the desire to create faith-rooted content but don’t have the bandwidth or skills to actually do so. The Alliance, which is funded by private donors, does not pay the creators, Tresner said. And while it’s aligned with the church’s mission, it doesn’t have direct ties to it. The main goal is to help Latter-day Saints create content and music that “brings people closer to Jesus.”
“What we’re hoping for is to negate all the bad stuff and put goodness and uplifting and positive things out into the world,” said Tresner. “So how do you make that algorithm do that for each individual, especially our young people?”
‘Academically minded, Gen Z-spoken’
Cade Alvey and Baylor Johnsen grew up going to the same middle school in Sandy, Utah, playing on the same basketball team and serving in student government in high school. Now both 25, they host a podcast together called “All Those in Favor,” a phrase associated with showing support and trust toward those who serve in the church.
When Johnsen heard criticisms of the church growing up, he didn’t really know where to look for answers. During his mission in Texas, Alvey’s mom sent him books on the history of the Bible and the Book of Mormon for in-depth study.
“We had both done a lot of reading, we’d both done a lot of research, and we just had something we wanted to say that we didn’t see being said in a way that would reach people like us very often,” said Alvey, who is studying philosophy and works as an assistant at a Utah-based law firm.
To kick-start their project, the two friends got a Red Bull mini fridge off of KSL marketplace for $150 — each pitched in half. Then, they resold it for $700 and bought their first recording equipment with the cash.
The first episode “was so bad,” Alvey said, but they managed to salvage two 60-second clips unpacking why Latter-day Saints are Christians. The clips got attention and ultimately launched their Instagram. Their first episode on YouTube was: “Atheists consider Mormonism credible?”
Since then, the co-hosts have reacted to comments by far-right commentators Nick Fuentes and Candace Owens, who criticized the faith; dived into polygamy and aliens; and, most recently, discussed the “Bachelorette” fiasco.
“We will never … impact world PR of the church as much as these women have,” Alvey said in a recent podcast episode. The algorithm rewards “hyperbolized” and “sensationalized” content about their faith, Alvey said, which makes it “clickbait gold.”
“You never know,” Johnsen responded, smirking. Apparently, someone had reached out to make a TV reality show, a counter to the “Secret Lives” — something like the “real lives of 20-year-old Mormon guys.”
On their show, they infuse academic ideas that might feel otherwise dense with banter and humor, making them approachable for their generation. They’re also trying to engage in more interfaith commentary to boost their reach beyond their Latter-day Saint audience. The podcast’s mission, according to their site, is to “make the best available reasons for faith public and digestible.”
“We’re academically minded, but Gen Z-spoken,” said Alvey, who sports a cross on his chest. He is a fan of atheist philosopher Daniel Dennett, because he says his academic writing is so accessible. That kind of depth of thought and accessibility is what he’s after.
“I want to talk like I’m just sitting around a fire with my buddies, but using the concepts and using the important things that I learn in school in a way that just makes sense to your average everyday person.”
Alvey and Johnsen initially started out using the services of the Faith Creators Alliance, but once their friend stepped in to do all the production, they branched out on their own. Plus, they felt it was important to stay true to their brand — just two guys chatting in their basement.
“For our stuff, we really wanted it to be authentically Gen Z, which is basically just kind of doing it yourself and gunslinging a little bit,” Alvey said.
Beating the algorithm
Tresner sees social media as a powerful and even divinely inspired tool that can reach young people exactly where they are — on their screens.
“Where are young people getting their information?” he asks. It’s no longer from cable or newspapers. “So we need to put good things there that’s the correct doctrinal information that can help them, that they’ll listen to.”
Last year, Tresner, who worked in fundraising for Utah Valley University and now has his own firm consulting nonprofits, recognized a need to help young LDS media creators amplify their voices.
Young people tend to turn to adults they trust for help, Tresner said, and in some sense, these faith creators function similarly through parasocial relationships with their followers. “(Viewers) feel like they know them and they can trust them with those questions,” he said.
Creators typically fill out a form on the organization’s website outlining their projects and media needs. The Alliance, which has four staff members, then matches resources to support those needs.
The organization has professionally equipped studios in Orem and Springville, and they’re in the process of building a third one. Recording podcasts and editing are the services in highest demand, but creators can also get support for other types of Latter-day Saint media, including music recording and even scripted content like sitcoms.
Creators have autonomy over their content, but it’s expected that the voices and their content align with Alliance’s mission to support the teachings of the church, Tresner explained.
“We don’t police their content,” Tresner said. “They own the IP, we don’t.”
There are also ambitious plans for growth — to expand network of creators into the hundreds and even thousands in the coming years. The idea, he said, is to “have the algorithm work in our favor” with uplifting, faith-based messages. These efforts are already transcending Utah: the Faith Creators Alliance currently supports 23 creators in Sao Paulo, Brazil.
“We really believe more voices are needed,” said Tresner, explaining that creators with small followings can appear in the feeds if the algorithm deems their content relevant. “It’s not just about people with a million followers anymore.”
A sense of calling
Nearly every Latter-day Saint influencer I spoke with described making faith content as a mission, something they feel called to do. For many, it also means navigating discomfort of making their faith so public. Most squeeze making reels and podcasts between their children’s naps and spend evenings and weekends on content creation.
“All of these creators felt like God wanted them to step into this space,” said Yarro of the “Blonde Apologist,” who lives in Provo. Yarro, who is expecting her third child, records her podcast at the Faith Creators Alliance’s studio and gets help with editing and production. She doesn’t make money with the podcast, and even hires a nanny to be able to go and record it. “I’m still expected to sacrifice a lot, and I’m willing to do that because I feel called to it,” she said.
Another creator, Shayla Egan, who goes by @ldspreppergirl on Instagram, recalled waking up one morning with a distinct nudge to create a reel; the exact script popped up in her mind and even the time she was going to post it.
“I’ve never received a prompting like that before, but I immediately was like: ‘I’m going to do this.’” That video explained the new designs of the sacred undergarments for church members, but Egan, who now has 56K followers, shifted her account to modern-day “prepping”: storing food in Mylar bags, freezing dried fruit and keeping water in 55-gallon drums.
But it’s not the “doomsday” kind of prepping. “I’m preparing because of job loss, preparing because of the death of a loved one, because the economy is falling,” she said. While some may view “preparedness” as a burden, Egan is on a mission to show that a longtime and seemingly daunting directive from the church can be fun. Another topic that resonates with her audience is the Second Coming.
Campbell at Texas A&M University notes that the influencer economy comes with its own pressures — competing for followers and sponsorships and elevating personal brand. And for faith creators, that can clash with the desire for theological depth.
“So I think religion can kind of stay out of that vein,” Campbell said.
Bascom told me her choice to focus on faith limits both her audience reach and earning potential.
“If I were just doing fashion or motherhood, it would open up way more opportunities to share things naturally,” she said. Some brands, she said, are also hesitant to collaborate with creators churning out heavily faith-centered content.
But Bascom is OK with that.
“If it was about the money, I would need to get a different job by now.”