Exponent II's Blog, page 196

Guest Post: Message from Home

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by Malena Crockett

It’s that season again — General Conference. If past history is any indication, many members who listen in the hope of hearing faith-affirming, hope-restoring words of wisdom from the LDS Church’s highest leaders will instead hear at least one speaker say something from the pulpit that marginalizes, diminishes, or harms them.

To those who find themselves hurting, I offer this:

Message from Home

My beloved child

You have been taught

to believe I am where I cannot see you

You fear I cannot feel what you are feeling

You think I am where I cannot speak to you

Please listen to this

My timeless declaration

Of my utter and absolute love for you

Feel my joy in you

as a unique manifestation of light and love 

Glow from my pride for you

As my child

As your wonderful self

Rejoice to my exultation with you

As a being of the universe

You fill my heart

You are exquisite in every aspect

 Despite all, you rise

above your grief

above your pain

above your foes

Despite all,

you find your essential self, your divine core, your unending godness

You do not need me to speak for you

Your existence speaks for itself 

Still, I say, Behold my beloved child

Hold fast

Listen

I will be with you

I

will

always

be

where

we can hear each other

֍

Malena Crockett is a novelist, a poet, and a disrupter. She breaks things. Sometimes they come back together looking different than before. A descendant of numerous early LDS converts and across-the-plains pioneers, Malena keeps one finger on the pulse of Mormonism past and present. She blogs at Mormonish: My View from the Fence. Her web site is www.MalenaCrockett.com.

Read up on #Mormon #Feminist campaigns that led to some of the changes for women and girls announced this #GeneralConference weekend.

When announcements about changes to programs of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS) come over the pulpit at General Conference, or through a news release from the church Newsroom, it can appear that such changes happened in a vacuum. Actually, Mormon feminist organizations have worked tirelessly for years to advocate women-friendly changes to church policy and programs. Here are a few Mormon feminist campaigns you should know about, given recent changes (and these are only a few examples of many ways Mormon feminists have advocated).

Ready to Witness campaign by Ordain Women

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Letter-writing campaign to change the Young Women theme to include the phrase, “We are daughters of Heavenly Parents.”

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Sisters Speak: Letters to the woman who wrote to President Oaks

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To the women who took the time to write a letter that was read today in the first session of conference during the concluding talk, I do not know you and I do not know the context in which your letter was written.

I do not know if you were being funny when asking about whether there would be separate homes in the hereafter, as you were soon to marry someone who had been married before. We unfortunately were not privileged to know the context in which this question came or how it was handled.

My heart felt instant pain as if my breath were taken away when I heard a roar of laughter and realized this question was received as making light of such a question. I thought, did she give permission to use this letter? Was this letter even real? What else was in the letter? Who may be feeling shamed right now? Does everyone in the conference center really think it’s appropriate to laugh? And in that split second I wondered, maybe that is not how the reference was intended, to be a joke. But then I saw a smile and I was not sure.

As I tried to comprehend why I felt pain over this introduction, which clouded most everything said and put me on edge, I began to place that feeling. That feeling is the same as any other time I have wanted to speak up and ask a question but didn’t because thankfully someone else did before I could muster the courage. Then I learned how grateful I was for not being the one to ask, because clearly that person regretted doing so based on the shaming response. I learned to not ask questions or raise my hand and although I still don’t ask questions publicly I have learned to speak up and raise my hand to share perspective or experience, which is growth for me.

No one should feel shame for asking any question! If we have questions and concerns, we should feel safe to especially ask those who have been called to be special witnesses of Christ and in return be treated as Christ would, without judgment! We should also be able to ask questions around fellow saints who share the same Christ like values and not feel judged or mocked.

So to the woman who wrote that letter and anyone else who has ever asked a question and been made to feel that their question wasn’t valid, was funny or trivial you are not alone. All questions are valid! I will do my best to remember the teachings in Romans 12 and in Mosiah 18 because I do want to be in the fold of God and be called his people. His people mourn with those that mourn, comfort those that need comfort by bearing each other’s burdens to lighten the load. I extend a non judgemental hand of love to you. I don’t have the answers but its OK to ask.

I’m am positive that many many more extend the same.

*****

Dear anonymous sister quoted in conference,

I’m sorry your pain was used as a joke. People laugh because they are uncomfortable, and my assumption is that all of the women and at least most of the thinking men were doing so. But in case they were not, we will keep teaching them both Christlike compassion, and empathy. The truth is, most of us refuse to think about these things, because they are so intensely painful and poisonous.

I think about them a lot. When I was in the process of divorce, from a situation that was extremely toxic to me, I broached the subject with my soon to be X husband, not wanting his anger when he discovered I planned on applying for a sealing cancellation. I mentioned this was something we needed to do. He immediately sent me back a screenshot of the handbook 1 explanation that he could get married again without a cancellation. He was saying to me, “see? No big deal.” He knew that because of the intensity of trauma I had experienced, I probably would not want to marry again. But, good news, he was explaining. He could make me a sister-wife. I could become polygamous. He knew how disgusting this thought was to me, and it was intended to hurt me, and did.

Healthy, young, celestially married individuals in completely neurotypical lives and relationships might not think about these things that much.

The rest of us do. Often.

We’re with you. And we were not laughing, but wincing.

Give us time. We will keep teaching.

I testify that polygamy is as true a principle today as it ever was. Which is to say, not at all, now or ever.

Much love-

HB

*****

Dear sister,

You asked a prophet, seer and revelator if he could prophesy, see, or reveal on your behalf. He could not. Instead, he made you the butt of a joke in front of 15 million people.

I think that tells you all you need to know about the prophetic ability of the men we sustain as prophets. They know they can’t deliver, so they mock women as a deflection technique.

Not really a good look for God ‘s chosen mouth pieces.

JL

*****

Sister, I am with you, and I am sorry.

Like, literally if they don’t want us to worry about what heaven is like for women, they shouldn’t describe it so clearly for men, especially not including women-as-prizes.

Your question is faithful. Your question is valid. Your question is God- (and Goddess-)given. You know there is more to know, and you asked someone who professed to have the answer. You did nothing wrong except trust someone who asked to be trusted, but didn’t deserve it or honour it.

When Jesus asks for our broken hearts, he doesn’t mean to place them under someone else’s feet.

I bless you with comfort and strength and wisdom. I bless you to know that you are not required to hide your heart or your questions. I bless you to find a connection to God, who’s reaching out towards you, softening your heart and planting questions. I bless you to water them with faith. I bless you (and all of us), one day, to find answers.

With love,

Olea

*****

Dear Sister,

You were bullied by a big bully today and I am sorry you were made the butt of his joke. It is not OK. We are all so sorry. – JBW

*****

Dear Sister, I am pained that your heart-felt letter was publicly used as a cautionary tale for women not to worry about conditions in the afterlife. There are countless of us who chafe, grieve, sorrow, about what is commonly taught and practiced, and who have our valid concerns dismissed as though we were little children asking uncomfortable questions of adults. My heart ached for you today. – LHH

*****

Dear Sister,

I am so sorry that your private letter, written in worry and vulnerability, was broadcast to the whole church without your consent in a way that diminishes your concern and mocks you for even asking. You are in the same position as the current Sister Oaks, and her husband dismissed her and thousands of other Mormon women just like both of you with his insensitive remarks. If he had wanted to make a point about trusting in the Lord, he could have used a dozen different lead in stories to set up the premise of his talk. Flaunting your pain was so unnecessary, and I’m so sorry. Blessings to you in your relationships and I pray for peace to come to you about the state of your afterlife conditions.

Warmly, Violadiva

Return to Sender: Heartbreak sent in a letter to Church HQ

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By Thelma

The best way for me to benefit from General Conference is to skip the live broadcast (and live social media reports) and wait to read the talks after they are printed and once I have heard feedback about which talks could be difficult. When I realized I needed to open Facebook this afternoon to respond to a string of messages about a group meetup, I did so cautiously, knowing what might be in my feed. And, sure enough, I saw in the first post that President Oaks had made a joke about a woman who wrote a letter to him expressing her concerns about polygamy.

I stared at the screen for a few moments completely unable to move, then rapidly started combing through the comments trying to find more information. How silly a question, he implied. The audience had laughed. What a silly, laughable woman. She was asking about being sealed to a widower—wondering if she was sealed to him (and he remained sealed to his previous wife) if the three of them would be forced to cohabitate together in the next life.

There it was. It wasn’t my letter and they weren’t all laughing at me. The immediate relief was soon replaced by seething anger.

Almost two years ago, I started feeling like I needed to write a specific general authority about my difficulties in getting a sealing cancelation and my concerns about nonconsensual polygamy were it not to be canceled. I wrestled with the idea for many hours with God. Why did I need to write about my experiences when I am arguably one of the most private people in the world? Couldn’t an extroverted, open-book member of the Church just copy her public social media posts and send that instead?

I finally struck a deal with God: I would write and send the letter if it ever got to a point where I felt very certain that it was the letter that I was supposed to send. I spent the next year writing and revising the letter. It ultimately turned into a ten page single-spaced letter. On October 17, 2018, I was completely sure that it was as it should be. I took a deep breath, printed it, and mailed it to the Church Office Building.

The response to my letter was far from positive. It broke my heart, to be honest.

It wasn’t my letter to which President Oaks referred, but I have a whole lot of words for President Oaks.

Instead, though, I want to speak to this woman who also wrote a letter to Church leaders with her concerns about polygamy.

I’m so sorry.

I’m so sorry that your vulnerability and sincere questions were mocked in front of the world. It absolutely makes sense that you would wonder exactly how the relationship would work in the next life. I applaud your desire to have full information before you entered a marriage. I admire your faith in the power of temple sealings. I respect your willingness to seek counsel from others.

I feel so much love for you and I want to send you my favorite antique apple varieties that are perfectly crisp and juicy right now. I don’t know how to fix the pain you feel but I know that God loves me when I eat these apples that truly are too good for this world. I don’t know how you feel God’s love and maybe you are even allergic to apples, but I want you to know that you are not alone. I see you, I support you, and you don’t deserve this.

Also, my sealing still hasn’t been canceled, so if you’re also unhappy with your situation in the next life, come find me and I’ll be the Thelma to your Louise.

A Queer Prayer

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A QUEER PRAYER – By Blaire Ostler 

Me: Heavenly Mother? Are you there?

HM: Yes. I’m always here.

Me: They say there’s no atheists in the foxhole, and once again I have found myself in a foxhole. I’m tired. So very tired. I don’t know what else to do, but something inside me tells me that prayer is still meaningful.

HM: The meaning of your prayer is up to you. Actions make prayers honest.

Me: You keep saying that, but I have so little control over my life, my community, my environment, my future, my death.

HM: You have more influence than you think.

Me: Then help me. Tell me what to do. I am supposed to give hugs at the Conference Center tomorrow, but I don’t want to. I’m so angry. They don’t deserve my hugs. They don’t get to sustain the brethren with one arm and then hug me with the other. They will think that a hug means everything is alright. Everything is not alright.

HM: My daughter, I blessed you with a quick mind and an even quicker tongue. I also blessed you with a great capacity to love. You know how to love beyond boarders. You love in ways that defy convention and there will be those that find your love queer, but you are a lover, not a fighter. Do what you do best. Love.

Me: I can’t. They pointed at my love and called it “sin.” They called me “a challenge of the flesh.”

HM: Show them otherwise. Show them love.

Me: Can’t someone else go?

HM: If not you then who?

Me: Anyone.

HM: You are not just “anyone,” my daughter.

Me: Are you forcing me to go?

HM: No. You always have your agency and I love you no matter what you choose.

Me: Haven’t I forgiven seventy times seven? Haven’t I turned the other cheek?

HM: The victors will not be those who threw the hardest punches. The victors will be those that stood for love despite the punches. Love wins. Love always wins. You know this.

Me: You make it sounds so simple.

HM: Simple, maybe. Easy, no. But you are not alone. There are others. Find them and gather them up. I have sent my queer children to prepare the way for new revelation concerning love.

Me: Very well. Thy will be done.

HM: No. Thy will be done. The choice is yours, but with me all things are possible.

Guest Post: Crumbs Are Not Enough

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by Anonymous

“You served us crumbs, you see, and we hungered for our own bowls of bread and milk,” wrote Linda Sillitoe, punctuating her indignant sadness in the poem, “An Elegy in Lowercase (For President Spencer W. Kimball).” Today I learned that women of the church are being served another crumb–the ability to stand as official witnesses to baptisms and sealings. We have been extended a tiny morsel. Not only is it the tiniest of crumbs, but it is made smaller by the fact that any baptized child can also act as a witness to a baptism. Because if women are capable of doing it, so are children, so saith the patriarchy. 

I’m reeling from the Don Draper-esque nature of all of this. “Let’s give these unruly women something they want, and then pat their heads and offer it to the children on their laps.” I imagine the prophet sucking on a cigar with his hair slicked back in a three piece suit as he talks about it with his peers–an exclusive club of powerful men, almost all of them white. “That oughtta keep our little women satisfied enough,” he says, tapping ashes into a nearby tray. 

When I went through the temple for the first time, I was struck by what I saw–not because of the clothing or the ceremonies, but because of the women. Women were administering ordinances to me. Women participated in ways I could hardly imagine them participating in my ward at that time. Soft hands were laid on my head, on my shoulders, on my back. They pressed tokens into my skin, anointed me with oil. I saw Eve in the garden, and I knew that she was powerful, knew that she held keys that Adam did not. I mentally pushed away the parts of the ceremony that subordinated her, telling myself that really, her obligation was always to God, just as Adam’s was. My gut, my soul, my heart knew who she was, who I was meant to be. 

I’ve always loved the temple and cherished my time there, and now I see some of the reasons. It is a place where I feel my power, feel that God knows me, and I Them (though I saw Them as Him in the beginning). In the temple, the truth of who I’ve always known I was comes to fruition. Sitting in a plush, velvety chair, I saw a man and a woman presiding over the group together. I partook of the fruit, sank my teeth in and savored it. Savored the way God spoke to me in the quiet repetitions of the promises I made. I didn’t know until recently that our church wasn’t always so male-centric. Didn’t know the relief society was intended to be its own organization, presided over and run by women with their own keys.

I grew up in a church where I was told my loud mouth was not right. Where my decisive, directive nature was wrong. Those traits were for men, not for me. Strength and leadership were for boys, not for girls. My job was to support, sustain, uphold someone else, not be someone myself. In Merry Miss I made a necklace of all the woman things I learned to do there. Wooden beads in different shapes represented things we’d done — a little wooden spoon for cooking, a miniature birthday cake for cake decorating, a spool for sewing, other miniature craft items. Domestic skills like ironing or making small toys for younger children out of found objects were represented there as well as childcare and babysitting classes. These, I knew, were my jobs. My place in the world. At the direction of other women, I crafted this thing with my own hands and placed it around my own neck, my personal silvery chains (Sillitoe). I won’t pass the sacrament. I won’t go home or visiting teaching. I won’t have a purpose or a voice in the church except to cheer on the men as they do all of those things. “It will prepare you for marriage,” they tell me. You’ll be a good helpmeet for your husband. 

It worked so well, the indoctrination. My bullheaded, blunt, directive nature led me shamefully through life until I got married, and then I knew that I could no longer do that. It was my job to let my husband preside, let his educational and career goals take the lead. I needed babies, and I needed them soon. I’d done all the right things–stayed chaste, went to church, read my scriptures, went through the temple, got sealed, kept up good grades–and still the babies didn’t come like they were supposed to. That was the first hit against this identity the church built for me. The one they thrust on me when I was small. Eventually I adopted and became a foster parent, but that isn’t enough. My body exists, I was told, to create babies. That was my part in tandem with the priesthood, and I couldn’t do it. My body wouldn’t do it. The one power I was told I had did not exist. I did not exist. 

I pulled myself out of the sinkhole of infertility to live a somewhat functional life. My daughter (adopted) became the center of my life. I had a self again, and that self was her. She also  packed a powerful punch of serotonin every time I held her, looked at her, cared for her. But over a decade into marriage I had suppressed myself so long, I was breaking apart. Suppressing the power I had, but that had been stunted by my patriarchal upbringing, very nearly killed me. 

Now I know I have the priesthood and I feel a sacred anger for the fact that I’m told not to use it. I’m angry to go to church and have a man stand up and tell me what will happen, when the small but powerful woman that heads my ward’s Relief Society sits and listens. I’m angry that little boys have opportunities to serve the whole congregation while my Beehives are expected to sit idly in their pews. I’m angry that I’ve been told not to bless or anoint my children, but if you don’t believe I have laid hands on my children and exercised my priesthood on their behalf, you would be sorely mistaken. I’ve laid hands on a little boy terrified to go to sleep for the scenes that would play across the screen of his eyelids, and I’ve lifted them to find him comforted, no nightmares terrorizing him through that night. I’ve laid hands on my daughter and asked God to heal her, to keep the air moving in and out of her wheezing lungs. I’ve exercised my priesthood on behalf of my children, and saying that publicly could get me excommunicated in a church led by men who are afraid of my power. 

These tiny crumbs–letting women pray in conference, allowing us to be witnesses, rephrasing the temple ceremony to reflect more equity–they aren’t enough for me. They only make me hungrier for the bowls of bread and milk that I am owed. I have lived on these crumbs for over three decades, and I am starving. If I have to, I will rob the heaping bowls of the men that surround me and take my fill. The morsels that are intended to assuage my anger only add fire to my flames of indignation. I am ready to shout myself into existence. 

Guest Post: On Turning 50

[image error]by Jenny Atkinson

Jenny Atkinson served as Editor-in-Chief of Exponent II for three years, from 1997-1999. She was 27 years old when she took the helm, making Jenny the youngest editor in our 44 year history. Jenny vigorously recruited many of her peers to participate in the organization, thus giving the staff a more diverse demographic. Another way she modernized the publication was to shift the quarterly from a folded newspaper format to a neater, more manageable and permanent booklet style with heavier paper and a stapled spine. (This is why the people who subscribed early on refer to Exponent II as a “paper” and later subscribers call it a “magazine.”) The organization is ever grateful to Jenny for making our voices more varied, solid and permanent through her vitality, innovation, and giant heart.

I was 19 years old when I went to my first Exponent II paste-up party. I had recently moved to Cambridge, Massachusetts and couldn’t believe the newspaper that had been arriving in the mailbox for my mother for most of my childhood was being created just a few blocks from where I lived! That first encounter was full of yummy snacks, fascinating conversation and hard work in a tiny room full of women who seemed to be forces of nature. I was hooked.

In the decade that I was deeply involved with Exponent II, a number of the other women celebrated their 50th birthdays. I imagined that their boldness, clarity, sense of self and lack of concern for other’s approval (confidence in the face of criticism) was something like a birthday present they were given on their 50th birthdays. I couldn’t wait to turn 50 and I’ve been looking forward to it ever since.

Over the years that I worked with these women, I learned so much. I was always thrilled when I would make a trip to pick up the Exponent II mail at the Arlington Post Office in the years that I was the secretary or treasurer of the board. I’d hope to make a side trip to Carrel Sheldon’s porch where we would sit and talk. Carrel was so open and insightful in those and many other conversations—whether the topic was the church, sex, friendship or whatever popped into our minds, I always learned something from Carrel and even more importantly, I always felt listened to by her—like my ideas, questions and struggles were worth consideration.

I remember one Exponent Board Retreat weekend where we headed to the Cape (or somewhere, my memory is getting worse by the minute). We stopped at a cool estate sale. Later that day, these women presented me with a beautiful necklace—something that was such a good match to my tastes and my spirit. They gave me that gift at a time when I was really sick. It was important to me at that time that the tiredness I felt was something physical—chronic fatigue syndrome. Who knows what it was (and sometimes is) exactly—now I think of it much more as unexpressed sadness and anger that I interpreted as tiredness. No doubt it was also due to high levels of busy-ness and the feeling that I had to try to be perfect. But during that difficult time, I felt so supported, loved and cared for by those Exponent II ladies.

I think about the hours I spent with Sue Booth-Forbes. Whether we were digging around in a small closet where the back issues of the paper were stored (when I dropped those packages off at the post office, I always imagined the excitement of the woman on the other end when she would open her mailbox and see the treat waiting for her), talking about an article under consideration for publication, or just enjoying a delicious meal Sue had cooked for us, I gained an even deeper understanding of the importance of Exponent II. Sue’s love for the paper and all the people reading it was almost palpable.

When I became the editor of Exponent, I was also grateful for younger people who started agreeing to help with the work of the paper. I was so impressed when I’d stop by Heather Sundahl’s house to drop off a few manuscripts for editing (yes, it was still mostly pre-email in those days). I did not have kids at the time and I marveled at her ability to hang out with a houseful of babies and toddlers and still have time and energy to proof articles. My roommate, Diane Brown, who was busily working on a PhD, would also make time to read even more words in her spare time as another of our expert editor/proofreaders.

And over the years I edited the paper, I worked with three different magical design editors. Eileen Lambert (I still think of her as my fairy godmother), Sarah Bush (who spent endless hours thinking about how the look of the paper contributed to reader experience) and Kate Holbrook (who was probably working, going to school and always baking something scrumptious for us to enjoy when I’d stop by her house). When I think back on my time with those three, I mostly remember laughing, deep conversation and a strong desire to ensure that Exponent II would speak to all its readers in the way it spoke to us. Working on the paper brought us together in a way that enriched our friendship and made me a better person.

Over the years, I’ve learned from and felt the love of all these women and so many more—the wise “older” women and the (usually) younger ones who were just getting involved with Exponent II. As I have reflected on these friendships, I’ve realized that of course becoming myself was not going to be a birthday present I was given when I turned 50. Instead, the qualities I’ve admired in so many Exponent II women were always hard-earned. I’ve been a bit disappointed to give up on this fantasy—I’m turning 50 today and I still have so much work to do to be the person I want be. But when I think about how fun and important doing that work has been with my Exponent II friends, I’m excited to continue the journey as I become even more myself—more confident, daring, kind and peaceful in the decades to come.

Jenny Atkinson is a non-profit consultant with Smarter Learning Group and the PTA president of her children’s middle school (a position she can’t seem to escape). She lives in New York City with her husband and two children.

Guest Post: Waiting to be a Witness

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By Katie

My life has grown me into a daydreaming feminist who was once the poster child for benevolent patriarchy. I’ve been married to an amazing man for 10 years and have three wonderful daughters. I love to travel, celebrate holidays, and enjoy good food with the people I love.

My twin daughters turned eight in February of this year. Since January, I fought to be a witness for my twin daughters’ baptism. My husband fought for me, too. Shouldn’t a mother get to play some active role in the spiritual milestones of her children? I found it insulting my female eyes didn’t even count enough to be considered a witness at church. For years, attending baptisms of children brought me some anxiety: seeing the kid hugging complete strangers who were men from the stake participating in their confirmation while not even acknowledging the mother. Most baptisms, you’d have no idea who the mother was. I knew the drill, I’ve been benched at baby blessings too; men and boys tend to be the active participants running the church.

I pleaded my case to the stake president: for years every Sunday in Young Women, I had chanted and promised to be a witness of Christ at all times and in all things and in all places, and my own church wouldn’t even allow me to do that. In the scriptures we read that Christ chose women to be the witnesses to what Christians would consider the greatest ordinance of all – his resurrection. If women are good enough for Jesus, it seems like we should be good enough for the Mormon church.

We waited many weeks while my request to be a witness and conduct my girls’ service went up the ladder. I felt like I was asking for crumbs of participation, a pretty reasonable request. There’s precedent, too: I’d shared an article from the Ensign describing how President Kimball had his wife be the witness for a baptism in India.

The longer we waited, the more I actually started to think someone maybe wanted to listen to my voice and would take my concerns seriously. My stake president said he went to the area authority and maybe one level higher. But then they came back with a hard no. My stake president said, “Why would you even want that? Really, would that even be enough for you if we’d said yes? Being a witness is no big deal; no one even really records who the witnesses are. What we’ll allow you is better: you can give a talk. That should be what you want anyways; it’s more meaningful.”

I wanted to hold off on the baptism, but a few months delay was all the compromise my husband was willing to make, so we worked together and made the decision for our family to go back to our favorite ward in London where we knew they would make room for us, would make room for me to be comfortable. They gave us as much love and allowances for our desires as the Handbook of Instruction would allow. My girls were baptized in June of this year. I didn’t count as an official witness like I’d desired to be and fought for, but I stood in the water and held each twin that wasn’t being baptized. The ward members were the ones coming up with ideas of what we could do so I felt included even if I actually wasn’t included in an official capacity. I welcomed everyone to the service and felt a little in control of that spiritual experience. It was special and peaceful for me. I was glad to not be left on the sidelines as a mother sitting in the pews with everyone else on my child’s special day. I spoke about strong and spiritual women and did my best to be an example for my daughters even though I felt a bit deflated submitting to the will of the patriarchal system I was working under.

Now it seems if I’d just been able to hold out a few more months, I would have been able to be a witness at my own kids’ baptism. Why we are still having to fight for such small things in 2019 when women see so much more equality in society outside the church is a problem that once you see, you can’t unsee. In my real life circles, it doesn’t seem to be one people want to see or discuss.

All of a sudden, with one press release, a woman not being allowed to act as a witness in the LDS church went from “no big deal” and “why would you want that anyway” to a great and joyous blessing. I guess we’re only allowed to want things after they’ve been given to us. Women waiting around for men to decide what they’re allowed to do gets old pretty fast. That’s not how God works; that’s how men work. The older I get and the older my girls get, the more I care about living intentionally and in ways that feel right to me, not just doing or saying things to meet others’ expectations. I believe I have as much access to the divine as anyone else, and I want my girls to feel that in their lives, too. I only have this one life, and I’ve spent too much of it waiting around for what others choose to allow me. I feel hurt they couldn’t accommodate my righteous requests when I so earnestly pleaded for them. We can’t go back and have a do-over of my daughters’ baptism. So until the big, new revelation from the president of the church is that women will have equal opportunity and representation at the decision making levels of the church and not be presided over by men who have the power to choose whether or not to listen to women, I no longer care about the small changes to make a broken system slightly less sexist.

As the English poet William Earnest Henley said, “I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.”

Sisters Speak: Letting Women Witness – Crumbs

The Exponent blog is sharing guest and reader responses to the news about women and children being able to serve as official witnesses  for some Priesthood ordinance (baptisms and sealings), announced 2 October 2019.  We welcome your contributions in the comments or as a guest post using this link

Granting women the opportunity to witness priesthood ordinances has long been an agitating point for many Mormon feminists, including previous posts here at the Exponent blog.  Beginning in February 2016, Ordain Women launched a campaign, “Ready to Witness,” which included a letter writing component to church leaders. We are grateful and proud of the many women who made their voices heard in these campaigns and posts.  True to our mission to elevate women’s voices, we share reader responses and feelings this week.

 

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Crumbs

By Mindy Farmer

I longed for a feast;

Asked for a nibble.

I ached to join the banquet;

Agreed that just a taste would do.

While men gorged on

Authority, promises, endowment;

God’s literal power

Feeding their spiritual hunger,

My stomach painfully, embarrassingly, growled;

Yet, I pretended petite portions

And prettily presented sweets

Satiated my hunger.

A small, insistent voice persisted,

“God would not starve your soul.”

So, I tentatively approached the table,

Raw hunger in my eyes,

Declaring my spirit starved;

My soul begging to do, to know,

To be more.

I desired a full seat at the table,

But asked only to occasionally pull up a chair.

I didn’t want to end the feast or topple the table;

Simply take my place.

They called me selfish, attention-grabber,

Godless, unwholesome,

Masking sin

In the guise of spiritual hunger.

So, I stopped asking,

Bypassing their table,

Taking my hunger directly to God;

Seeking new sources to fill

The gnawing void inside me.

And I realized a sometimes-seat at the table

Would never fully satisfy my hunger

For the God I sought.

Now, they serve up occasional bits of goodness,

Like tossing scraps to a loyal pup,

And caution me to not become too greedy

While I patiently wait for the men at the table

To make room for me at their feet.

And for me to rejoice that they’ve shifted – even just a little –

To concede me room.

They toss me crumbs

In hopes that I’ll stop claiming I’m starving,

Without actually ever

Filling my soul.

Sisters Speak: Letting Women Witness – Part I

The Exponent blog is sharing guest and reader responses to the news about women and children being able to serve as official witnesses  for some Priesthood ordinance (baptisms and sealings), announced 2 October 2019.  We welcome your contributions in the comments or as a guest post using this link

Granting women the opportunity to witness priesthood ordinances has long been an agitating point for many Mormon feminists, including previous posts here at the Exponent blog.  Beginning in February 2016, Ordain Women launched a campaign, “Ready to Witness,” which included a letter writing component to church leaders. We are grateful and proud of the many women who made their voices heard in these campaigns and posts.  True to our mission to elevate women’s voices, we share reader responses and feelings this week.

 

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I am so proud of my friends at Ordain Women for their foresight in the Ready to Witness action that took place over many months. I think this is a perfect example of how the church needs to listen to those who are agitating for change. OW should be incredibly validated and proud of their action. I am disheartened that women and children are positioned as equals to each other in power and status, but not equal to men ages 11+. – ViolaDiva

*****

What we are witnessing is an ever growing positive shift toward gender equity in the world, and the church has just begun to give heed to the clarion call. Members of the church, this is important: do not invalidate the voices of the marginalized and BELIEVE THE VOICES OF WOMEN. We all have divine right to inspiration and just because a prophet has just now proclaimed it as truth does not mean it was a bad idea in the first place. Women have been speaking up against gender inequity for YEARS. Let us please learn from today’s news and start making the necessary changes in our life to right the wrongs and reject the status quo just because “that’s the way it is”. We have strong, courageous women to thank for this change because they were willing to turn their pain into action by writing letters to the apostles, sharing their stories, and refusing to be silent in the name of “humility and obedience”. I thank president Nelson for listening and doing the right thing, but these women deserve more credit, because they faced tangible risks for speaking out of turn. -BHC

*****

I’m so happy, and yet so disheartened that, once again, there are two groups of individuals in the church: Men, and others. – HHB

*****

Women were the first to witness the Savior’s resurrection. This makes total sense to me. I’m happy to have had an answer to something I thought was not logical in the past! – DJA

*****

I’m grateful for the work that Ordain Women and Mormon feminists do. Without them and their bravery, we would not be seeing progress (albeit slight progress). This was not the work of men, but persistent women. – SC

*****

Happy. I’m focusing on being happy for my 12 year old daughter, just starting her journey with the temple and ordinances. These are baby steps and I’m excited for the future. I am thrilled to be part of a church organization that does believe in change and revelation. As an organist, I have attended a variety of other faiths for years and there are pieces missing. As much as I enjoy the services, they are behind in the doctrine. Women in other churches I attend don’t long for more about Heavenly Mother, etc., because she isn’t even on their radar. – LP

*****

I’m so glad the Prophet of the Lord is finally receiving the same revelation my mom had 30+ years ago. – Helena

*****

it was, for a moment, thrilling to be given an official session of general conference, until they told us females ages 8 and up were part of it. And it was, for a moment, thrilling to be given an opportunity to witness as only males ages 11 and up have been able to do, until they went ahead and granted it to all the baptized children, too. Also, as ever, we may witness, but not do. Perhaps they feel they are giving us the same as the women who stayed with Jesus and bore witness, or as Mary who bore first witness, but we know that women were also disciples, also apostles, also doers. They also have the fortitude to do both.- anon

*****

I volunteered to attend the temple with the youth. I was asked, via text, if my husband could attend. I responded that my husband was not able to go, and I knew that they needed people who could perform the ordinances [or witness], and that he had no idea how much I wanted to be able to help with that. I went. I handed out towels. I felt that my service was unnecessary. It was a kind gesture to hand someone a towel, but they may have even preferred to take one out of a pile near the font and not be ogled in their semi-transparent and clingy wet jumpsuit. I know that would have been my preference. But what could the women do if not this? I watched the witnesses. I contemplated why I couldn’t do what they were doing? I have a PhD, surely I have the skills. It hurt. I am so glad that I will be able to do something more useful now. My daughter will not experience this same hurt. There will be other hurts, other inequalities…We will keep asking the questions, why not me, until there are no more question to ask.– Ginger

*****

I’m thrilled that there is a more meaningful way for me to participate in my children’s baptisms than giving a talk but now I feel like I have to ask myself do I take a role in the witnessing or afford my children the opportunity? It feels exciting but frustrating that my role and authority is still equal to that of an 8 year old. – anon

*****

I’m excited that my TBM mom who just started working the baptistery gets to be a witness even if she doesn’t seem to think it’s a big deal.-anon

*****

I have so many conflicting thoughts and feelings about this. It’s about time that this change was made as there was clearly no doctrinal reason for our exclusion. It’s frustrating that we have to “agitate” for these common sense changes towards what should be automatic inclusions and equalities. I’m excited that I may be a witness at my child’s upcoming sealing! It’s demoralizing yet again to be lumped in with children 8 and up. It feels like it’s too little too late for many and yet the brethren seem to be patting themselves on the back for these baby steps. – anon

*****

Let’s face it, they likely did it because they couldn’t find enough men to participate in the ordinances. -anon

*****

I just don’t know. I don’t know why I, as an adult woman, can only be allowed to bless others through my participation when children are given the same privilege. I don’t know how to accept that nothing has changed about the temple covenants, where I was explicitly second, and yet changes are being made that are supposed to make me equal. I don’t know how to celebrate the future without mourning for the past, without mourning what was missed. I don’t know how to process this change, because I don’t know what it will mean for me. Will witnessing my children’s baptisms, now that basically anyone can do it, be meaningful? Will it be special or perfunctory? Will anyone understand why it was important for a woman to fulfill that role? When will my church respect my whole self and allow me to bring all my skills and talents to serve in any way in the church? There is too much I do not know. – BKN

*****

I find it incredibly insulting that we’re expected to celebrate the fact that we are now sanctioned to officially watch men carry out an ordinance we ourselves are not allowed to perform.- anon

*****

I once went to the temple with the youth as part of my calling as a YW President. I eagerly took the chance to hand out towels because I desperately wanted to be a part of the experience with these youth. From my perch, with a towel in my hand, I watched as a youth was submerged – except for the fingers on her hand, holding to the priesthood leader’s wrist. I opened my mouth, and then I closed it, and then opened and closed it again – was my witness wanted? Would I be heard? After the second submerging, the same issue continuing, I opened my mouth to speak and a man spoke first – seeing the problem and requesting the correction. I have often thought back to that experience with confusion and pain and frustration. I’m glad it won’t be an experience repeated again for another woman somewhere. But I’m afraid there will continue to be reasons for confusion and pain and frustration. – AA

*****

I can’t help but wonder: why do all the headlines proclaim that the policy change is about women now being able to witness, but in truth it is that women AND children are now able to witness? It is like 1) they are embarrassed to admit in the headline that women and children are lumped into the same category – again – or 2) they hope women don’t read much more than the headline and thus feel super validated, because if they keep reading they will see that this is NOT about women, but about all who are not MEN. This is a bone thrown to the dog to keep “her” quiet, but there is no meat on that bone. At the same time, I am so glad that things are getting shaken up, non-men are being validated, and seeds are getting planted for bigger and more significant changes in future years. – JHL

*****

I have 4 sons and my youngest was baptized in March this year. When my third son was baptized I was miserable because there was no meaningful way for me to participate in his baptism because in our stake they don’t allow family participation in the baptism program. I felt like the only reason I needed to be there was to provide the food for the celebration afterwards. When my youngest was baptized I vowed not to be so angry, but I still felt marginalized and I jumped at the chance to say the closing prayer since he was the only person in our stake being baptized that day. This I feel happy for the change, but sad for the way I was excluded from my own sons’ baptisms. I’m grateful that the experience for today’s young women will be different. I also feel sad and angry that the way this announcement rolls out it feels like women=children. Men have held tightly to power for so long, and when they give a pittance away it’s extended to women and children at the same time. Perhaps I’ll be able to be a witness when my sons marry, but temple marriages are a lot more complicated with more people involved so that’s not a given. – Cynthia

*****

I have 2 sons. The youngest was baptized in July after I had kept putting it off for 6 months. He asked if I could baptize him. No, that has to be a man. I told him to pick 2 witnesses to watch him go under the water. He picked me. No, that has to be 2 men. I asked him to choose the confirmation circle. He picked me. No, those have to be men. And now I am angry. Don’t tell me to be grateful for changes. -SH

*****

 

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