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They didn’t seek commonality with other churches. It was divisive and fear-based.” At a very young age, she sensed that she was being trained, as a dog might be trained, to grow up to be a woman with no ambition other than to bear children. She learned that while there was only one road to heaven, there were a great many to hell. Secular music, for instance, which she was forbidden to listen to. Science, for another. In sixth-grade science class, when the theory of evolution came up, Charity was handed a note saying she needed to go straight to the principal’s office and wait it out until those lessons were over. The other kids who went to her church all got the same note. Which is not to say that she had not learned things in church. When she was seven years old, missionaries who’d been to Africa came and spoke of plagues they’d witnessed. That experience had triggered an obsession: from then on, she’d wanted to know everything she could about disease and the viruses that caused them. She decided to become a doctor before she grasped all the reasons why she couldn’t. “I didn’t know anybody who had graduated from a four-year college,” she said. “That’s not what people in Junction City did.” Her school guidance counselor told her that kids from Junction City didn’t become doctors, and that she should change her mind. Instead of changing her mind about her ambition, she guarded it. “I learned to hold that card close, because no one believed it,” she said. In her senior year in high school she was thrown a lifeline, in the form of a scholarship from a foundation set up by a local lumber tycoon, for kids whose parents hadn’t gone to college. The Ford Family Foundation, as it was called, offered to pay her way to Oregon State. “The elders said I was disobeying God’s will because I wanted to go to a four-year college,” Charity recalled.
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