Exponent II's Blog, page 183

So Many Words for Whore

 

Do you think English is a sexist language? Many years ago, I graduated with a degree in Linguistics. Sometimes I ruminate on language usage. English usage reflects the culture of sexism ubiquitous among English speakers over many centuries.

A stereotypical man is a strong, confident leader. He is ambitious, decisive, enterprising, determined, independent, and he commands respect. ‘Man up’ means to be brave. The slang term ‘have balls’ also means be courageous. On the other hand ‘like a girl’ is an insult, and the slang term ‘pussy’ means coward.

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To insult a man you emasculate him. Call him a feminine term like ‘sissy’ (which used to mean “sister”). Another way to insult a man is to call him a bastard (which is really an insult to his mother) or a cuckold (which is an insult to his wife). The only sexual insult I can think of for a man is to call him ‘impotent’ or ‘flaccid’. (What a double standard, to insult a man by criticizing his sexual ability, while women are insulted for being sexually competent!)

There are no comparative insults for a woman’s father or husband. However, I find it interesting that the same traits that are seen as noble and desirable in men have a derogatory spin when they are found in females. Women are referred to as ‘aggressive’, ‘bossy’, ‘opportunistic’, ‘overambitious’, ‘pushy’, ‘overbearing’, and ‘shrill’. A stereotypical female is nurturing, submissive, helpful, and quiet.

A woman’s emotional state many be criticized as hormonal, hysterical, or irrational. She is also criticized for expressing ‘unwomanly’ feelings, called ‘feisty’ or ‘angry’ to invalidate her.  The way we talk about women often implies that their value lies in their appearance rather than their mind or contributions. Young women who care about their appearance may be called ‘high maintenance’ while those who are less concerned with appearance may be called ‘frumpy’. A woman who doesn’t embrace a stereotypically feminine look may be called ‘butch’. One of the most common ways to attack a woman is to criticize her appearance by calling her fat and ugly, or by critiquing her appearance in any way. Though physical attractiveness has the same spectrum for men and women, men are rarely insulted for not meeting these arbitrary standards.

Insults most commonly applied to older women include ‘crone’, ‘hag’, or ‘witch’. I’ve read that calling women a witch during the Salem witch trials was a way men got back at powerful women, such as midwives or property owners. Here in the United States we see this every time a woman gets too popular politically. Men have trouble tolerating powerful women and attack their character and appearance.

Mom jokes were popular when I was growing up. People made up elaborate insults to someone’s mother in order to insult them. ‘Yo momma’ slurs are still a common practice. I wasn’t able to discover how long this has been going on, but I’m quite sure they are not a recent development.

I found it easy to come up with a list of many insults that are particularly female, while there are relatively few that are particularly male.

A few female-directed insults use animal terms like ‘bitch’ (female dog), but insulting a woman is usually done by attacking her sexuality. A woman who doesn’t want sex is ‘prude’ or ‘frigid’. A woman who likes to flirt is a ‘cock tease’. If she likes younger men she’s a ‘cougar’. If she likes older men she may be characterized as a ‘gold-digger’. The ultimate insult for a woman is often to call her one of the many many terms for a sex worker, such as ‘harlot’, ‘prostitute’, ‘strumpet’, or ‘whore’. I’ve heard people try to justify this by saying these are insults regarding specific behaviors, but they are 1. Not used only against women who engage in such behaviors 2. Explicitly gendered with no counterpart for males who are sexually promiscuous. If men are not going to be called anything in particular for acting sexual, why do we have so many derogatory words for sexually active females? After all, both are equally sexual by nature.

Language change manifests in many ways. I am particularly interested here in semantic shift, or the change in the meaning of words over time. One way it can change is to take on a more positive (amelioration) or negative (pejoration) connotation. Interestingly, these lexical changes tend to be sexist in English. Accordingly, male terms tend to enjoy amelioration, while female terms suffer pejoration. For example, the word ‘knight’ came from a germanic word meaning ‘servant’, which came to mean ‘nobleman’ and ultimately ‘gallant hero’. On the contrary, ‘Mistress’ used to be the feminine counterpart of ‘Master’, but now refers to a sexually promiscuous woman who maintains a relationship with a married man. ‘Master’ still means a position of power. ‘Madam’ used to be a term of respect and position comparable to ‘Sir’. Now it is used to mean a woman who runs a brothel. I find it shocking how many innocuous words have turned into sexual slurs against women. ‘Hussy’ came from ‘housewife’, but now refers to a promiscuous woman. ‘Slut’ came from a word meaning ‘sloppy’. ‘Tart’ came from a pastry. Why is it that women are slandered from every side in regards to sexuality, while a sexually active man is praised?

Even a faithful married woman may be called a ‘ball and chain’. There is so little stigma on male sexuality, it is difficult to compare. The expectation for women to be submissive results in negative slurs for women who try to exert influence over men. She may be called ‘pushy’ or ‘sassy’. She may be characterized as a ‘complaining’ ‘she-devil’ or ‘harpy’. The stereotype of a ‘nagging’ (from gnaw) wife is widespread, while there is no counterpart for a nagging husband. He is expected to get his way, so he is never characterized as nagging, even when he behaves the same way.

I know there are insults for men, but I find they are far fewer, and far less widespread. Yes, a man may be called a ‘dick’. But a slur referring to genitals is also found for females (‘cunt’). In most cases where there are feminine slurs there are no male counterparts.

There are so many slurs, it is impossible to discuss them all here, slurs for economically disadvantaged people, ethnic slurs, slurs for people all along the gender and sexuality spectrums. I chose to look at the easy male-female binary, and I’d love to hear someone else go deeper revealing other ways the English language discriminates. Additionally, I presume this pattern is similar in other languages – that those with a strong history of cultural sexism will reflect a more sexist language. It would be interesting to hear if that plays out in other languages.

We are often blind to our own language use because it is such a strong cultural habit. I don’t think that people consciously perpetuate these harmful ideas, but they are so widespread in our language that they end up being repeated over and over.  Becoming aware may help us begin to break out of this cycle, and perhaps even reclaim words to ameliorate their meanings as the recent attempt to reclaim“nasty woman”.

In the end, our language usage reflects our underlying assumptions. It shows us that the behaviors and characteristics of men and women respectively have different standards and implications. Although we have made strides toward equality, our language shows us that men and women are not considered equal.

Nurturing grace and fighting perfectionism in Mormon feminism.

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January 2020

By LMA

I often think about the circumstances under which I learned about intersectional feminism and Mormon feminism. I learned about intersectional feminism first, and not until I was almost 30 years old.  I was raised in a deeply patriarchal and misogynistic family system where women’s thoughts, feelings, opinions, or expertise were/are not valued nor respected. I learned briefly about feminism as a family theory during college and intersectional feminism briefly during my Master’s program but I didn’t come to really understand it until my younger sister got engaged and then married. This has been an ongoing process since then.

The specific catalyst for learning about intersectional feminism was getting information about my body and sex. When my sister got engaged, it became culturally sanctioned in our faith for her to learn about sex and how bodies work. I knew very, very little about either. During a specific situation with our mom, I was asked to leave the physical space we were in because my sister had a question about partnered sex. As a never-married, single person (at 29 years old), I was told it “wasn’t appropriate” for me to hear, but it was for my 24 year old younger sister who had been married for one day.

After this situation happened, I used every ounce of righteous anger and assertiveness I had in my body and took it upon myself to read and learn about everything I could. At that point in my life, I didn’t have a lot of friends who I could talk to about what I was learning, so I did a lot of reading on my own and talked a lot about it in therapy. I read a lot of material about intersectional feminism and sex and bodies from The Body Is Not an Apology, Everyday Feminism, and Scarleteen. For months, I read and read and read (and still read and read).

Learning the correct terminology involved with intersectional feminism and how to talk about all of the varying intersections people embody is incredibly meaningful but hard work. In certain respects, it helped me describe the complexities of my own experience and helped me to understand the ways in which different areas of my identity and experience had impacted me. Learning about different forms of oppression is vital, and by extension, I realized learning about specific language and phrases to use and avoid was also extremely important. How many of these phrases and words had we used all our lives with people not understanding their meaning or what oppressive structures they were perpetuating?

Up until that point, I hadn’t had many opportunities to share my ideas with others or to actually talk about these ideas outside of therapy. Having a dialogue about important issues related to intersectional feminism generally and Mormon feminism specifically can be very hard and emotionally challenging, particularly in social media spaces. Over time, I started having these dialogues with others, both in-person and on social media. They continue to be both important and sometimes delicate, even with people I feel comfortable and safe with.

As I consider my situation, and the situation of many in my age group (early – late 30s), a lot of us were not taught about any of these things as young people growing up in conservative, Mormon families. Most parents of that generation were not open, liberal folk. They were doing and saying and teaching the things that were done and said and taught to them. As a result, many of us are learning these things completely on our own as adults. This work is hard and delicate and new.

Each of us has a valuable and evolving trajectory in intersectional feminism, Mormon feminism, and activism. We each have different histories and backgrounds. This diversity is a gift. I am not suggesting we accept willfully unkind/oppressive/unacceptable words or behavior, but it’s important to approach our own and others’ trajectories with grace as best we can, or hold space for the possibility of it.

So it’s said:

It’s okay if you weren’t born in an environment where you were taught from day one (or ever) the principles of intersectional feminism, activism, body positivity, sex positivity, or any other “woke” thing. We are not responsible for what we were taught/how we were raised, but we are responsible for how we choose to proceed now. We deserve compassion and support as we strive to learn and have dialogue with others about these important issues. We should not be expected to be perfect in this work.

During the next few months, I will be posting a short series on the role of grace and anger in Mormon feminism and specific ways we can combat perfectionism and oppression perpetuated toward one another in our interactions with other Mormon feminists in social media spaces and in-person.

Some questions to consider:

How did you learn about intersectional feminism generally and Mormon feminism specifically? What is your origin story?

What information would you want others to know about your story and how it impacts the work you’re doing as a feminist/ activist/ individual?

Have there been times when you felt misunderstood in your feminism or in your dialogue with others? In those situations, what would have been helpful to you?

The Gluten-Free Bread of Life

[image error]Corn Tortilla – Image Credit – Wikimedia Commons

This is a repost of something I wrote on my personal blog a few years ago.

I was leading the music for sacrament meeting, so I was sitting on the stand next to the organ with a full view of the sacrament table. A few minutes before the meeting started, a woman brought a baggie with a piece of corn tortilla up to the priests at the sacrament table. She said that she was gluten free and needed an alternative way to take the sacrament. One of the priests placed the tortilla in a paper cup so that it wouldn’t be contaminated by the bread and then put it on a sacrament tray.

I found this whole exchange very moving. It was beautiful to see an accommodation made so that a fellow saint can participate in worshiping with us without doing herself harm. The tortilla wasn’t labeled as inferior, different, or non-ideal. When the priest blessed the bread, the tortilla was blessed right along with it. Both the bread and the tortilla became equally representative of the body of Christ.

This got me thinking about spiritual gluten. What things are we doing at church that nourish the majority but harm a few? So often, I hear people say things like “we can’t worry about people who don’t fit the mold because we have to teach ‘the ideal’.” That’s the spiritual equivalent of telling someone with celiac disease to eat the bread and be happy about it because it’s good for 98% of the population. To do this is to spiritually poison some of our fellow saints.

Sometimes we’ll do lip service to different circumstances, but it often comes off as condescending and exclusionary. I’m reminded of how Mother’s Day is often handled at church. Women without children are patted on the head and told that we matter, but it’s immediately followed up with language like “motherhood is the most important thing you can do with your life.” (Subtext: “so what you’re doing isn’t.”) Our spiritual corn tortilla apparently isn’t good enough. It’s not just those without children who are subjected to language like this. Single adults, parents with children who do not practice the faith, people married to non-members, mothers who are employed, fathers who are stay at home parents, and many other people who won’t be featured on the cover of the Ensign experience this to varying degrees.

How much better, how much more Zion-like, would our church be if, instead of merely tolerating differences, we blessed the spiritual corn tortillas our fellow saints brought to church? What would it be like if we truly believed that God’s hand can be found in the lives of all His people, not just those whose lives look like the general authorities?

It would go something like this: “Brother and Sister Smith, your temple marriage is good and holy, and the ward is here to feed your soul. Sister Jones, your singleness is good and holy, and the ward is here to feed your soul. Brother Johnson, you are doing a wonderful job raising your children alone, and your single parenthood is good and holy. The ward is here to feed your soul. Sister Diaz, your marriage to a non-member is good and holy, and the ward is here to feed your soul.”

Blessing and validating the lives of Sister Jones, Brother Johnson, and Sister Diaz does nothing to take away from the lives of Brother and Sister Smith. They are not harmed by the spiritual corn tortillas that others bring, but denigrating spiritual corn tortillas in the name of conformity – because wheat bread is good enough for most people – unnecessarily separates our fellow saints from fully partaking of the wonder that is the gospel.

For, behold, I say unto you, that it mattereth not what ye shall eat or what ye shall drink when ye partake of the sacrament, if it so be that ye do it with an eye single to my glory—remembering unto the Father my body which was laid down for you, and my blood which was shed for the remission of your sins.

Doctrine and Covenants 27:2

When we remember the body of Christ, it doesn’t matter whether that body is represented by bread made from wheat or a tortilla made from corn as long as we have an eye single to God’s glory when we eat. The church is often called the body of Christ. As long as we have an eye single to God’s glory, the circumstances of our lives don’t matter. Don’t make our spiritually gluten free saints choose between eating something harmful or going away hungry. Our spiritual corn tortillas should be blessed alongside the bread.

Winners of the Exponent Art Scholarship: deTiare Leifi

Last year, Exponent started an annual art scholarship for Mormon women of color. The goal of the scholarship continues to be to amplify the voices of LDS women artists of color by lending needed support for them to be able to continue to develop their art.

Over the next few weeks, we will be sharing the work and words of some of the recipients of that scholarship. These extraordinary women have the ability to seismically change the artistic language of the Church: imagine Come Follow Me manuals, Church members’ homes or Church building hallways full of their work. We’re grateful that they shared it with this community and look forward to announcing this year’s scholarship very soon. If you’d like to contribute to the fund for this year’s scholarship, please contact exponentiieditor AT gmail DOT com.

deTiare Leifi: A lot of my work is inspired by my Polynesian culture and upbringing. I am still a novice and I feel that I am still trying to find my aesthetic and artistic voice. At first I began with basic embroidering as you will see with me Sei Series and Tatau Embroidery. Now, I am working at incorporating new fibers and materials like yarn, cotton string, beads and shells. I love to experiment with new techniques, styles, and materials. I feel that my biggest struggle right now is finding my aesthetic within fiber arts. I know I want to continue with embroidery components but I want to carve out my own lane. I want people to know that the work is mine just by looking at it.

Tatau is extremely important in the Samoan culture as it traditionally symbolizes distinguished persons and people. Did you know that the word ‘Tattoo’ originates from the word ‘Tatau’? The first Tatau Embroidery piece I ever created was of a friends Tualima (hand tattoo). After that I designed others with different forms, hand gestures, and motifs.

Guest Post: Dear Eliza, how to handle decision-making at church?

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Dear Eliza,

I often find that the decision makers in my ward are not the same people who actually prepare the food, wash the dishes, manage the children, organize the meeting space, or work weekly with budgeted supplies. This means that decisions tend to be “top-heavy” and based on limited information. Male leaders make decisions with input from women, but ultimately must approve every purchase and plan. While I believe leaders are well-meaning, this decision-making approach leads to less efficient and effective outcomes. When I bring this up, I’m told to try to “avoid being offended” and to “trust my leaders.” What is the point of having me spend time prayerfully planning activities, budgets, etc. if men at the top will ultimately veto, change, or minimize my choices? I may have the title of president, but I clearly only make suggestions. Am I alone in this?

Sincerely,

Frustrated in Ferndale

 

Dear Frustrated,

We often hear that “inspiration comes with information,” but in the church it can feel like this is only the case when information comes from men. In theory, the system delegates authority, but in reality, decisions are ultimately approved by a man in leadership. You are not alone in feeling as though your experience, expertise, and prayerful planning is underappreciated. Unfortunately, if you aren’t on the clean-up committee, rallying kids in the nursery, or finding unique ways to engage youth each week (or you haven’t done these things in a while), you can easily become disconnected from the realities of participating in a volunteer organization. 

With this in mind, I think church leaders should have to ask the following before making a decision/change/policy/budget:

 1. Would a male with decision-making power/authority REGULARLY volunteer to do this task with the current tools and budget?

2. Has he recently?

3. Will he in the near future?

If they answer “no” to any of these questions, they should rethink their decision-making strategies to include and prioritize information and inspiration from those who can readily answer “yes.”

Best,

Eliza

 

Readers with concerns or questions of their own may address Dear Eliza in the comments, and wait for a reply in future publications. 

 

By Mindy May Farmer

Mindy is a quirky book lover, writer, teacher, feminist, vintage-hat wearer, mom of four, 40-something, who loves a great conversation; written or otherwise.
 
 

 

BYU, Randy Bott, and Racism

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Here are four black Latter-day Saint women who exemplify strength and faith to me – Tamu Smith and Zandra Vranes (aka “Sistas in Zion”), Dr. LaShawn Williams, and Jane Manning James. Google them if you’ve never heard of them!

I started at Brigham Young University in the fall of 1999, just before the turn of the century. As a new freshman at a church owned university, only one thing captivated my attention and passion as much as freshman boys – and that was the prospect of serving a mission. I’d decided at age 16 that I would serve, and from that moment forward I listened to every talk and motivational speech directed at the young men as if it was meant for me, too. (As a side note to this story, I didn’t serve a mission after all. I was dating my husband at age 21 and got married instead.)

But at age 18, I didn’t know that future yet. Instead, I watched boy after boy in my freshman ward open his mission call in the lobby of our dorms (with his family on speaker phone from wherever they lived). On Sunday nights I would also go to something called “Tunnel Singing”, where students would gather at 9 pm under a bridge near the Marriott Center to sing hymns together. About halfway through the singing, they’d take a break and let everyone who’d received a mission call during that week announce where they were going and when they reported to the MTC. After cheers and applause, we’d sing a rousing version of “Called To Serve”, and I was almost always choking back tears by the end because it felt so amazing to be a part of something so special. It was almost always teenage boys announcing their calls back then (and I was jealous), but every once in awhile a 21 year old sister would announce hers. When she would do that my chest would burn with love and respect for her, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to be exactly like her. I could not wait to turn 21.

At the beginning of my sophomore year (at age 19), I decided to attend the wildly popular Missionary Prep class taught by Brother Randy Bott. It felt like every boy from my freshman ward had taken that class, and I’d attended a couple times the year before just to see what it was like. And for Teenage Abby, it was AMAZING. It was the best class I had ever been to at BYU. The instructor was funny, passionate, extremely knowledgeable, and his classes were packed. Every seat was taken plus standing room next to the walls sometimes. I clearly wasn’t the only one attending the class who wasn’t officially registered for it.

I went to every single class that fall semester, even though I wasn’t getting credit for it. I was on the edge of my seat and took comprehensive notes. I bought his book from the BYU bookstore. I tried to follow whatever he suggested in preparation for a mission. I didn’t even hate the lesson where he talked about girls not needing or being encouraged to go on missions, because I was sure it didn’t apply to me. The next semester I went ahead and signed up for the class for official credit and happily sat through every lecture a second time.

I loved that he would always open the floor for questions, and I remember specifically asking him once, “Could Jesus have been a woman? No one else could have done what he did, I know – but is “Savior of the World” a priesthood calling? Or could our savior have been a woman, if *she* had been the one who volunteered?” This was literally the only time Brother Bott disappointed me. He didn’t answer my question directly at all. Rather, he talked for a minute about the role of women and something else forgettable and then said, “Your real question is this, I assume – am I going to end up eternally pregnant having babies forever?” I remember thinking, “Wait, what? That was not my question AT ALL. Did you even listen? That’s literally the furthest thing I can think of from what my question actually was!” And then he quickly asked for the next question from the crowd without checking to see if I was satisfied with his response. I just shrugged internally and assumed it was too hard of a question and I’d stumped him (so score one for me!).

Other than that one puzzling moment, BYU Abby was never let down by this great professor. And on this Martin Luther King Jr. Day, I can also remember his lesson on race and the priesthood very well. For those who are not familiar with Randy Bott (or his very public ordeal over his teachings about race), let me fill you in on what he taught.

I sat in his classroom (I still remember where I was sitting that day, and which chalkboard he was writing on) and watched Brother Bott draw a ladder on the board.

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See the little section circled in blue? I am none of those people, because this is a photo from a Deseret New article in 2008, but this is the exact same room I took my class from him in, and the circled area is the spot right about where I was sitting when he taught the lesson about blacks and the priesthood to me.

Brother Bott explained that not giving black men the priesthood before 1978 was a kindness to them. “If you climb to the top rung of a ladder and fall off, you’ll get hurt very badly. However, if you climb only a step on the bottom and fall off, it’s not nearly as bad.” He animated the climbing and falling with his hands in front of the board. “Black people were not ready for the priesthood before 1978 because of centuries of slavery, lack of education, racism, etc, and thus they were allowed to only climb the first rung – by getting baptized into the church. If God had let them climb all the way to the top with full priesthood ordination and temple endowments before they were prepared, they could have fallen all the way down to become Sons of Perdition.”

I internally shrugged my shoulders again and thought, “Okay, sure. That makes sense.” I sat through this lesson twice, once each semester.

That might’ve been the last of it for me, but over a decade later in 2012 his teachings suddenly hit national news when Mitt Romny was running for president. A Washington Post journalist interviewed Brother Bott and asked for an explanation about the priesthood ban on blacks. Here is an excerpt from that article, (which you can view in whole here):

“God has always been discriminatory” when it comes to whom he grants the authority of the priesthood, says Bott, the BYU theologian. He quotes Mormon scripture that states that the Lord gives to people “all that he seeth fit.” Bott compares blacks with a young child prematurely asking for the keys to her father’s car, and explains that similarly until 1978, the Lord determined that blacks were not yet ready for the priesthood.

What is discrimination?” Bott asks. “I think that is keeping something from somebody that would be a benefit for them, right? But what if it wouldn’t have been a benefit to them?” Bott says that the denial of the priesthood to blacks on Earth — although not in the afterlife — protected them from the lowest rungs of hell reserved for people who abuse their priesthood powers. “You couldn’t fall off the top of the ladder, because you weren’t on the top of the ladder. So, in reality the blacks not having the priesthood was the greatest blessing God could give them.”

These comments stirred up quite the controversy, with online outrage abounding, and students even planning small protests.

In response Terry Bell, the Dean of Religious Education at BYU said, “The comments attributed to Professor Bott do not reflect the teachings in the classroom at Brigham Young University.” (Which CLEARLY was not true – I heard them taught more than once to a packed crowd of students with my own two ears!)

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Brother Bott quietly retired from BYU to serve a mission shortly after this all happened, and the church also issued a statement:

“”The positions attributed to BYU professor Randy Bott in a recent Washington Post article absolutely do not represent the teachings and doctrines of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” the statement said. “BYU faculty members do not speak for the Church. It is unfortunate that the Church was not given a chance to respond to what others said. “The Church’s position is clear — we believe all people are God’s children and are equal in His eyes and in the Church. We do not tolerate racism in any form.”

In an interesting turn of events, my longtime friend, neighbor, and soon-to-be-bishop of my ward, turned out to be Brother Bott’s nephew. Somehow in all the years we’d known each other I hadn’t made that connection until this news story. My husband asked him about it at church in Elder’s Quorum, and the nephew had just shook his head a little and said, “Oh, Uncle Randy shouldn’t have said all of that – he knows better.” 

I thought, really? Did he know better? Because I didn’t know better. Nobody in that class that I sat through twice at BYU objected to him teaching it to us. He taught it to THOUSANDS of students, and nobody took complaints to the head of his department and made him stop teaching it. Brother Bott was not some unknown teacher that nobody had ever heard about. He was a campus wide superstar! (For proof that I’m not exaggerating, go watch the first fifteen seconds of this very funny, very viral Divine Comedy sketch here (made by the same people who would later create the popular Studio C program). The song is a parody of “California Girls” by Katy Perry and the very first line says, “I know a place…where we’ve got way different celebrities…”, and they flash a picture of Dieter Uchtdorf and then of RANDY BOTT. Those two guys were about equally popular during his heyday at the university.) 

For even more evidence, here is a Randy Bott praise-filled news article from the Deseret News article in 2008.

At one point, he was the most popular professor in the country on the website RateMyProfessor.com.

Everybody used Randy Bott as a scapegoat, and yes, his teachings were totally racist. But somehow I don’t think it was fair to throw someone with zero authority under the bus when he was only repeating what he’d also been taught his entire life. Had anyone with authority ever attempted to correct what he was teaching? From this outsider’s perspective, it doesn’t appear that anyone did.

I wish we could say now that these racist ideas are finally behind us in 2020. However, just last year my 12 year old son came home from church and said, “Mom! My teacher said something today that sounded so racist. She said that black people came from Cain and Abel. Because like, Cain killed Abel, so God cursed him with black skin – and that’s where black people come from. I couldn’t believe she was seriously telling us that, but she was!”. He couldn’t stop laughing about how absurd it all sounded to him, and repeated it over and over again to my husband and I.

First, I was so secretly thrilled that my kid was laughing at the ridiculousness of something so obviously wrong, since I had heard those things growing up and never thought twice about them. But secondly, I was annoyed that this stuff was still happening, and I didn’t even know what could be done about it. His teacher was a very friendly and outgoing woman in the ward, and she’d just recently been in the Relief Society presidency. What should we do? My husband decided he wanted to talk to the bishop about what happened, and made an appointment (with the same bishop who is Randy Bott’s nephew, coincidentally!). He did, and the bishop agreed to discuss the issue with the teacher. He reported back to my husband that she’d apologized and said she was just trying to keep the class interesting for the kids. (I don’t know if a correction was ever made in class or not, but my son never reported hearing one.)

I get it. It’s hard to keep kids focused and learning without teaching new and unique things they haven’t heard before. I don’t blame her. And honestly – again, like Brother Bott – she was teaching things SHE had been taught by her favorite teachers at church for decades. She is extremely active in the ward, loves learning, and centers her life on the gospel – and yet for all of her participation she’d missed any announcement from the church that that teaching was outdated and racist. 

Is it Randy Bott’s fault or my son’s primary teacher’s fault that these errors persist- or is it the fault of church leadership failing us? If such a prominent and vocal member of the church as Randy Bott missed the memo, is it any surprise that a white primary teacher in one of the whitest wards in the church missed it as well? We have no control over what happens at the top, but what are we doing as a church community (especially white people, like myself) to fix these problems? And what if the first question asked of us on the other side isn’t “Did you ever dress immodestly or try alcohol?”, but rather, “Did you do anything to stop racism in your community?” 

I hope that next time my son hears racist teachings he stands up and objects, rather than just coming home and laughing about it afterwards. And I hope I never absorb a racist idea ever again, just because of the trust I have in the source its coming from. Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and here’s to a better future for all of us, together.

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President Nelson met with the NAACP last year, which a lot of members hope mean more positive changes in the future for the black members (and all of us) in the church.

 

Guest Post: Cut Grass

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by Miriam

Cut Grass

Sometimes I’m like green grass

Growing millimeters

At a time.

But just as I reach the heights,

There comes the lawnmower–

Loud, menacing.

In straight, orderly rows

I’m shorn,

Hot metal spewing.

What would it be like to let me grow?

Reaching heavenward

Until the spikes tip over

Heavy-laden with seed,

Then fading to yellow–

Stalks drying to drop new life

In wild and tangled beauty.

Will I ever know what could be

If the mower keeps on cutting me down

To keep me in the bounds that man has set?

Miriam is a lover of the ocean, meditation music, birds, and blue skies, who has lived long enough to see the hand of both Mother and Father in all of those things, and who, despite her frustration with living in a telestial world, knows en ough strong and loving men and women to know there is hope for Zion.

Guest Post: What NOT To Do When Someone You Care About Leaves the Church

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By Renny

Scrolling through my news feed Sunday afternoon, I found the following headline worthy of a click: “Utah sees Latter-day Saint slowdown and membership numbers drop in Salt Lake County” According to statistics released by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints: “in 2019, 14 of [Utah’s] 29 counties saw the actual number of members decline. The most significant drop came in Salt Lake County, which saw the roster of Latter-day Saints fall by 6,710 even as the state’s largest county grew by 10,000 people.” The article goes on to list one of the reasons for the decline in membership as “a rise in resignations among disaffected and largely inactive members.”

This is particularly relevant to me, as I live in Salt Lake County and, while I have not officially left the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I have been making conscious choices over the past four years to distance myself from the church I once loved and to which I have devoted my life. I no longer attend Relief Society or Sunday School. I don’t do callings or ministering or activities (unless it’s a family thing that my husband and kids wish to attend), nor do I do worthiness interviews, tithing, tithing settlement, or dry-pack canning. I’ve stopped wearing garments, and I no longer aspire to a temple recommend. I drink coffee and caffeinated teas (not alcohol, but my reasons for abstaining are not religious). I sometimes wear shoulder-baring tops and above-the-knee skirts, even to sacrament meeting (when I attend, which is an average of twice a month). I even removed my name from the Primary substitute list. Each of the above was a deliberate choice that was carefully weighed in my mind and heart beforehand. I have no immediate plans to quit attending altogether, nor to officially remove my name from the rolls of the church. However I acknowledge that’s probably where things are headed.

Prior to the beginning of my still-in-progress faith transition, I had the experience of watching several people who were close to me leave the church or become inactive. I clearly remember all the feelings of sadness and confusion and incomprehension that are natural for a fully-committed and firmly-believing Latter-day Saint to feel when this happens. Now I am—for all intents and purposes—on my way out, and I recognize that my choices may be contributing to others’ feelings of sadness, confusion, and incomprehension.

All of this is to say that I have been on “both sides:” I have been the one watching someone leave, and now I am the one leaving. So I have some understanding of how people on both sides of this issue may feel. And not only have I been on both sides, but I have also made many mistakes on both sides. But I also believe that we can all learn from our mistakes, and use our experiences to help others avoid the same pitfalls. To that end, I have written a “What not to do” guide for my fellow LDS citizens of Salt Lake County—and for Latter-day Saints everywhere—who are watching loved ones leave the church. I present to you:

The Top Three Things You Should NOT Do When Someone You Care About Leaves the Church

1. Do NOT assume that your loved one left the church because he or she was deceived by Satan. Of course I can’t control what’s going on in your head. But certainly do NOT tell your loved one that they have been deceived by Satan. Also—and this is very important—DO NOT IMPLY in any way that they have been deceived by Satan. This should be obvious. I mean, it’s the Golden Rule 101. You wouldn’t like it if someone said or implied that you have been deceived by Satan because you believe in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, so you shouldn’t say or imply that to somebody else because they don’t believe. It’s highly insulting when someone suggests that the Devil has pulled the wool over your eyes. If you wouldn’t appreciate Satan being blamed for your sincerely-held beliefs, then you shouldn’t blame him for somebody else’s.

2. Do NOT ask why someone leaves the church (unless you really want to know). One thing I tell my kids is “Don’t ask a question if you don’t want to hear the answer.” In other words, don’t ask a question just so you can pick a fight or start a debate with the other person. In that same spirit, do NOT ask why someone has left the church or is no longer active unless you REALLY want to know the answer. Don’t initiate a conversation with your now-agnostic friend about the “why?” if your intent is to attempt to answer all of their questions and resolve all of their concerns about the church and convince them to come back. I can almost guarantee you that it will not work. And, if you try this, you run a very real risk of losing that person’s friendship for good. Even—perhaps especially—among family members, it’s often best not to talk about it. Period. With any luck, religion was not the ONLY thing you had in common with that person, so there will be other topics of conversation.

3. Do NOT say “I still love you.” If you love the person who has left the church or who has become less active, then you can certainly tell them that. The phrase “I love you” can be powerful, beautiful, and healing. BUT, whatever you do, do NOT add that “still.” Take it from me—that “still” hurts like hell. If you’ve never been on the receiving end of an “I still love you” like that, then you may not understand WHY it hurts so much. And if you have, then I don’t need to explain it. It’s one of those things that is very hard to put into words.

At some point I might want to write a follow-up to this post detailing what you CAN do when someone you care about leaves the church. But I’m not at all sure what I would say. Until then, feel free to leave your own suggestions—both what to do and what NOT to do—in the comments.

 

Renny is an aspiring writer, PTA mom, and English teacher. She has lived in Oregon, France, and New York, and currently resides in Utah.

Toward Intersectionality: Censuring White Mormon Feminism

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A few weeks ago I watched the Tournament of Roses parade perched atop a cold ladder set up on Colorado Blvd. in Pasadena, California. I observed several floats and entries that were thematically related to the 100thanniversary of the passage of the 19thamendment.  A marching formation of women costumed in period dresses and suffragist sashes accompanied the floats. I observed the signage on the floats and in the hands of the participants: “Votes for Women” and “Women Win the Vote 1920!”

I noticed the vintage white dresses and thought, “It’s significant that they’re all wearing white, since it was only votes for WHITE women that they secured 100 years ago.”

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The narrative in our nation surrounding the historic passage of the 19thamendment (which was 100 years ago) is inaccurately comingled with the 100thanniversary of women voting in the United States, which won’t occur until 2065, the 100thanniversary of the Voting Rights Act, the legislation which finally granted many women of color the right to vote for the first time.  White women have been voting for 100 years, but nobody seems to specify that fact in their celebratory signage.

“Votes for White Women 1920!” “White Women Win the Vote!” doesn’t seem like much to brag about, and yet, when we claim that women have been voting in this country for 100 years, we erase the disturbing truth of how Black, Native Indigenous, Latina and Asian women were excluded from voting, even after this historic amendment, and how many more decades of activist work took place before this egregious wrong was corrected.

Additionally, when Utah women or white Mormon feminists cite that Utah women were first to vote 150 years ago, without including the important detail that this was also only for white women at the time, we whitewash the fact that Black, Native, Asian and other women of color living in Utah were excluded.  While it may be historic to note that many white Utah women, including early Relief Society leaders, were active in the suffragist scene many years prior to women’s suffrage gaining traction in the national stage, we must simultaneously acknowledge that it was to the exclusion of their Black and Brown sisters living in the Utah territory with them.

Some may claim that given the political climate at the time, it was the logical order of things to grant white women the vote first and then work toward racial equality, that the suffragists did the best they could for their time, or that we can’t judge people of the past by today’s standards, but I disagree with all such claims. Imagine how much sooner our Black and Brown sisters might have gotten the vote if those early suffragists had carried signs and personal convictions of “Not without my Sister!” “I’ll march as long as she has to!” “We go to the polls together or not at all!” and collectively agitated persistently until voting equality was granted to every woman and person of color in the United States!

Both of these historic examples are instructive for white Mormon feminists today. If our activist efforts to root out systemic oppressions work only for the sake of our own self-interest according to sex, to the exclusion of other intersecting oppressions (race, sexual identity and orientation, ability, age, class, etc.) we agitate only one aspect of inequality at the detriment of the others. Today’s generation of white feminists must learn from the mistakes of feminists gone by: we must know better and do better because none of us is well until all of us are well.

The attitude white Mormon feminists must adopt today to be truly inclusive and intersectional in our efforts to eradicate inequality is to stop putting our own needs and interests above the needs of other marginalized persons, and recognize the ways we are enacting the same types of oppressions on others that we despise receiving ourselves.

The enemy is not maleness, or whiteness, or straightness. The enemy is systemic oppression and the vehicles it uses to perpetuate lower statuses of power and opportunity for women, people of color, queer folk and more. In this quest for equality, a deep, multi-racial coalition of women and minority genders with male allies would be an unstoppable force. In order for that to happen, straight white women must stop buttressing the oppressive systems that harm others (like white supremacy, patriarchy, and heteronormativity.) In our pain and grievances from being on the receiving end of misogyny and patriarchy, we white MoFems are still missing the ways we erase and fail to see our own exclusionary actions toward the marginalized folks around us. When approached with the words of other marginalized voices speaking truth to their pain with power, we must all react inwardly to ask, “Lord, is it I?”

The lesson I take from my feminist fore-mothers is that banding together to get positive results for everyone will be better than leaving someone out for the sake of getting there sooner myself.

The New Era released a statement on feminism this month that includes the following paragraph: “Now, feminism can mean different things to different people. Sometimes it refers to efforts to ensure basic human rights and basic fairness for women, as well as efforts to encourage women to obtain an education, develop their talents, and serve humankind in any field they choose. Latter-day Saints support these things.”

To which I add that a gender-only approach to modern feminism is incomplete. Today’s intersectional feminism, both within Mormonism and beyond, should not just be focused on gender inequality, but in cutting off systemic oppressions at all their sources: racial inequality, income inequality, and inequalities rooted in transphobia or homophobia, plus more. I’m not just looking for a feminism that ensures basic rights, fairness and encouragement for women. Efforts toward gender equality are meaningless unless they also include efforts to erase all other oppressive systems together.

For me, intersectional feminism is an aspiration, likely not a place I can ever truly “arrive.” But I can get closer to it the more I work on it, the more I listen and learn, and the more I change old patterns of thinking and doing to reflect what I’ve learned. I invite feedback from others on what I lack in the process.

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Suggestions for how white Mormon feminists can approach intersectionality

Individually and collectively agitate for repentance and apologies for the racist priesthood and temple ban for members of African descent and the homophobic policy of exclusion for LGBT+ members, and their accompanying folk-doctrine rationales, both from individuals and the church institution at large.
Lean in and listen to the critiques of women of color and queer folks regarding our own words and actions without getting defensive, combative, dismissive or pouty. Do not silence or block the marginalized voices that point out how you’re wrong. Take the criticism inward and reflect how you can do better.
Pick up where our feminist foremothers left off and expand the scope of who is helped by our activism.
Talk about and view compounding oppression together as the same villain, not as separate entities. It’s not just patriarchy that holds women back, it’s the combined ideals of cis-white-heteropatriarchy that are to blame for hurting many. Be as quick to identify and condemn other forms of oppression (white supremacy, heteronormativity) as we are of patriarchy.
Invest time into self-reflection and learn to identify ways we harbor biases. Work to heal those deficiencies in ourselves.
Which groups were you born into? White, straight, cis, able-bodied, neurotypical, upper-class? Those are good starting places to examine where you may hold biases or may be unfamiliar with the perspectives of others.
Listen to and follow people who are sharing from intersections other than your own with the intention to learn and do better. When you discover a new way to be better, amplify the words of those who showed you and share with others.

Please feel free to share your suggestions in the comments of who to follow on their various platforms.

“I can’t be a feminist. I’m raising boys.”

[image error]I’ve heard it many times. A woman explains that she can’t support feminism because she is a mother of sons. If my feminist goals for equity within our faith community were realized, opportunities that would have been automatically awarded to her sons could go to women. Without the unique role of serving in a male-only priesthood, what would give her sons purpose and spiritual direction? What would make men special? Would her sons advance within the church hierarchy? Or would their ambitions be thwarted by a new demographic of competition? Would the church even need men anymore?

These arguments give me pause because I have three sons. As I support feminism, am I working against my own male children?

I remind myself that feminism benefits everyone, including men. Diverse leadership is better leadership. Egalitarian marriages are stronger marriages. Serving in the church will be a better experience for my sons if they have the opportunity to serve under the people best prepared to lead them, regardless of sex. Expanding the leadership pool to include qualified women could save my sons from being trapped in callings that do not suit them, simply because the male talent pool is sparse.

But this kind of logic does not address the underlying feelings that lead mothers to bristle at the concept of a more egalitarian future for the boys they are raising. Both men and the women who raise them are coping with a collective insecurity crisis. Lacking confidence that males are inherently worthy and valuable as human beings, both men and the women who love them seek external validation by comparing men to other people. Men are important because they can do things women can’t; men are important because they outrank other, less important people.

The lay clergy structure of my church (the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS)) creates a mechanism for many men (but not women) to rotate through leadership callings such as bishop and stake president, offering several of them, in turn, the external validation of outranking other people. *

But even with these rotations, some men will never hold these prominent callings. Universally ordaining every male member to a male-only priesthood validates men by ensuring that every single one of them, even if they never serve in a leadership calling, outranks every woman they worship with. We can point to clear examples of things all LDS men can do that women can’t, not because women are incapable, but because, as non-priesthood holders, women aren’t allowed.

Even male-only priesthood isn’t enough to satiate male insecurity, so we encounter the phenomenon of priesthood creep, in which women are barred from activities that do not even require priesthood, such as passing the sacrament, counting tithing and serving on Sunday School presidencies. One blatant example of priesthood creep, barring anyone but men from serving as official witnesses at weddings and baptisms, was only recently rectified.

Like women, men have intrinsic value as human beings. It shouldn’t be necessary to artificially elevate men above women to make them feel important. They simply are important, like we all are.

As women within a patriarchal church and society, we are uniquely qualified to understand how to cultivate self-worth without the reassurance of outranking others in a hierarchy. Collectively placed at the bottom of the totem pole, we have been forced to forge our identities without external validation. Can we instill the same resilience in our sons? Let’s raise them to understand that they are strong and good and powerful, even if they never become bishops or stake presidents. Let’s assure them that their contributions are valid and appreciated, even if no one else is barred from performing the same functions. Let’s teach them that their unique personhood make them special, even if they do not outrank anyone else.

 

Note: Callings such as bishop and stake president are time-intensive and unpaid.  Men do pay a heavy price for this kind of external validation.