This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2016, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.

I don't remember how old I was when I figured out that God could see me naked. I do recall that it came as something of a shock. Even as a kid, it felt like a violation of my rights.

Over the years, various church talks, lessons and sermons further convinced me that Heavenly Father was deeply concerned about what I did in my various stages of undress, and therefore kept me under constant surveillance.

Worse was the idea that whatever I was up to while under this heavenly microscope was also somehow the business of my ecclesiastical leaders, who seemed to take a dim view of anything not officially sanctioned.

Sexual misbehavior was referred to as "petting, necking, masturbating, thinking impure thoughts and fornication," all of which were glorious passageways to hell unless we unburdened ourselves to the proper authorities.

Back then, moral status was couched in terms of how much attention boys gave to their "little factories," and the "chewed gum" status of non-virginal girls.

I remember the reference to the "little factories" from a mid-'70s church pamphlet that is now out of print but probably still in musty circulation somewhere.

Adolescent genitals were referred to as little factories because in the grand scheme of things, that's what they were for: production.

We were counseled to keep our little factories in proper working order so that when official permission was finally given to ramp up production, there would be no supply problems.

Proper maintenance of the little factory was to avoid anything resembling trial runs lest they became a source of entertainment rather than business. It made sense given that I almost burned my little factory down during my teenage years.

For all the wisdom in this advice, there's something that bothers me about human sexuality. I have no idea when religion developed such an enormous sense of propriety of our private parts.

Note: It tisn't just a Mormon concern. Historically every faith seems to have been obsessed with the proper care and maintenance of things so enormously sensitive/sacred that they're only referred to in childish euphemism.

A lot of methods have been used to govern how people use their private parts — shame, guilt, excommunication, corporal punishment, castration, chastity belts, etc.

I'm OK with a certain amount of counseling regarding sex. Not everyone is raised with enough knowledge to ensure that the rules of engagement don't come as a surprise nine months later, or develop into an act of domination or abuse. Which brings us right back to religion.

Who thought up genital mutilation as a way of drawing closer to God? Circumcision for baby boys and even young girls? It sure as hell wasn't business or entertainment.

So, yeah, if religion wants so much say in how I ought to use my bits and pieces, I want to know who cut the roof off my "little factory" before I was able to consent, and why they felt obliged to do so.

I'd also like to know why, if our genitals are of such great religious import — sacred tools, if you will — and what we do with them is of eternal consequence, whose idea was it to create us so that we had to pee through them? How unsacred can you get?

In the end, the business of our privates is actually … well, our private business.

Robert Kirby can be reached at rkirby@sltrib.com or facebook.com/stillnotpatbagley.