Exponent II's Blog, page 226

#hearLDSwomen: My Bishop Told Me to Hide My Intelligence So a Man Would Want Me

[image error]On the church hallway bulletin board, encouragement for all of us single ladies: “When the odds are one in a million, be that one.” (I don’t fault the person who created this, rather I fault the culture that created this.)

– Swiss Miss

 

I’m single and childless. I have been informed in countless ways for literally decades now about how basically my entire existence is “less than”.

– Kristin

 

I was single for a long time and got married a year ago. Right before I got married and moved, I was asked to give a talk about marriage. I told them no; why would I want to talk on that with no experience? They asked me to speak on something else asinine, and I had to explain no, that was hurtful too. Finally, I agreed to talk on the Family Proclamation, and while I didn’t really want to, I just chose to focus on the better parts and left out the gender roles crap. I’m sure I surprised my bishopric member by saying no, but why would a long time single lady want to talk about marriage?

– Sarah

 

I was called in for a random interview after a new bishop was called for my Young Single Adult ward. At the time, I was working on a double master’s degree. As I excitedly started to talk about my academic focus, he cut me off and asked what I was doing to find an “eternal companion and fulfill my divine role as a wife and mother.” He then went on to explain how I shouldn’t talk about my academic and professional achievements so much or “boast” about it because it would limit my dating pool. No guy wants to be with a woman who’s smarter than him. I think I did manage to say something along the lines of “I wouldn’t want to be with someone that couldn’t love all of me” and that I was okay waiting for the right man.

– Kelly Boren

 

At 30, when I was still single, I was counseled by my bishop (who was normally fairly great) that I needed to hide my intelligence from the guys because you don’t want to scare the rabbit before you get it in the trap.

– Beez

 

Pro Tip: Women are whole people whether they’re in a relationship or not. Always encourage women to be their whole selves.

Click here to read all of the stories in our #hearLDSwomen series. Has anything like this happened to you? Please share in the comments or submit your experience(s) to participate in the series.

“If any man have ears to hear, let him hear.” (Mark 4:23)

Guest Post: A Wishlist for Africa’s Temples

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artistic rendering of Democratic Republic of Congo LDS temple

By Sorella M

Thank you Adia J. Olguin for your blog post on Exponent II. You inspired me to finally write these words.

To my Mormon sisters and brothers in Africa or who hail from Africa, I would like to share some things that I have long dreamed of correcting about my Mormon ancestors’ actions toward blacks and black Mormons if I had a voice in church leadership. Dallin H. Oaks, first counselor to Russell M. Nelson, famously said, “the history of the [Mormon] church is not to seek apologies or to give them” (Peggy Fletcher Stack, “No Apology, Really?” Salt Lake Tribune, 30 January 2015). Oaks’ words upset me every time I read them. I wish that just the opposite were true, and so I have designed a wish list of actions which, if I had a voice in LDS policy, I would implement immediately:

1) Formal apology: I would ensure that Mormonism’s top leaders apologized for their racist policies in the past, and that apology would become a part of the printed LDS canon. This means that said apology would be an official proclamation or declaration that would be inserted into the scriptures at the back of the Doctrine and Covenants. I would also correct LDS scripture, removing or revising all verses in the Book of Mormon and Pearl of Great Price that describe dark skin as cursed and white skin as preferable or a sign of curses being lifted. My childhood scriptures have already been corrected in this manner (“white and delightsome” in my childhood scriptures was changed to “pure and delightsome” in present-day LDS scriptures) so there is a precedent for doing this.

2) Temple equality: Elder Neil L. Andersen, of the quorum of the twelve apostles, recently told a group of Mormons gathered in San Diego that the new temple being built in Nigeria will have a more humble design because the church doesn’t want to give the impression that Latter-day Saints in Africa are wealthy, for fear they could be kidnapped and held for ransom. I appreciate this concern for their safety, but I also feel it grossly unfair that white Mormons get to worship in elaborate, grandiose temples while black saints in Africa attend humble, pared-down temples. I would therefore require all temples to be equal in style and design to those built in Africa. If I had any input into church policy matters, I would not settle for anything less than temple equality for all races and nations, period.

3) Temple clothing: If I had the authority, I would stop teaching Mormons to equate whiteness with godliness in their temple dress. I would teach the doctrine that color is beautiful because designed by the same God who created rainbows and a gloriously colorful earth populated with people of many colors. In America, white robes were a symbol of the KKK, and black robes are symbols of authority, knowledge, professionalism, and excellence, worn by judges and people earning degrees from higher institutions of learning. Black suits are required attire for missionaries for the same reason (sister missionaries can wear pants but aren’t allowed to wear pantsuits; don’t ask me why!). The colorful fabrics of the African people are glorious and should be allowed inside the house of God, in my opinion. If I had the authority, I would declare that color is beautiful, color is godly, and I would invite an array of colorful fabrics into the house of the Lord, rather than banning every color except white.

4) Temple fees. If I had the authority, I would not charge any admission to the house of the Lord. I especially would not require people from war-torn or third-world countries who struggle to make ends meet to pay ten percent of their income in order to receive ordinances which leaders tell them are necessary to live with God again. I don’t believe that God charges a fee to return to His presence, and I truly believe that if He did, He would waive the fees of those living in areas where warlords, corrupt politicians, and famine and disease ravage the land. I might be alone in my beliefs, but if I were in charge of temples, I would welcome all my African brothers and sisters (and many, many others) to worship without first paying the church to do so.

Being a woman, I have neither the authority nor ability to have my voice heard among Mormon leadership in these matters. But being a sister to all and a fellow human being, I express here my love for all of God’s children and my wistful wishes for greater equality. I do apologize for the egregious sins of my Mormon ancestors and wish that those in power over the modern Mormon church would make reparations for the unjust treatment that blacks received and are still receiving (such as with so little black representation among our highest ranks of leadership, inferior temple design, and more). I am doing what I can on the local and church-wide level to make these points heard, and invite Latter-day Saints everywhere to join me in apologizing and seeking to repair the damages done by our ancestors, even if worldwide leaders will not.

Today

Today is my birthday. This was not the post I had planned to share.

I have a draft with a tiara topped teenage memory bedazzled with poems and cake and confetti. Then my father-in-law died and I went to a funeral instead.

His death was not unexpected. He was in his eighties and had been declining. We were grateful that he did not linger bedridden and in pain. His funeral was a celebration of a life lived fully, a big, robust presence who knew, and was loved by, many people. He would have been pleased by the crowd who turned out, who chatted and hugged and laughed on his behalf. He would have popped popcorn and made us eat second and third helpings.

This is the closest family member I have lost. My parents moved away from extended family and we were disconnected from the social rituals of life and death. I did not go to my first funeral until I was 29 years old. I saw the body of my husband’s grandmother and was undone. I had to be led away to the parking lot. Since then, I have attended the funerals of two grandparents and several strangers. My father-in-law was a man I have known, kissed on the cheek, been irritated by, joked with, and been deeply connected to for thirty-six years. My husband, like his stoic pioneer mother, is peaceful; his father was ready and the timing was merciful. I know this, but also feel raw and uncertain.    

Typically my January birthday is my own New Year’s celebration. It is the threshold between who I was and who I want to be. I have always loved this holiday for me alone, a day to be self indulgent and preening without guilt. But more than the “sing to me” center of attention, I revel in the fresh start. Personally and professionally, I plot continuous improvement, iteration, and the systematic practice of performing better tomorrow than today. Tracing my steps, I can see how I determined a path, moved, repeated, made mistakes, recovered, and inched forward as a human being, each year an increment more productive and insightful than the year before. People say … “are you 29 again? (wink wink) ” and I think, how absurd, why would I want to go backwards?

But the proximity of days between my father-in-law’s passing and my birthday has cast a contemplative pall on these annual musings. My usual pride in measuring progress is tempered by the awareness of mortality that comes when an elderly parent dies. The generation standing in front of the veil is thinning, exposing the next in line. I look at my list of goals for the new year. Lose ten pounds? Make another quilt? Work more/less/smarter? Who cares.

Traveling home from this weekend, I think of my nieces and nephews, some children, some adults. Between obligations, I was styling hair, adjusting collars, playing games, inviting conversation, refilling glasses of water, smiling at sad faces, embracing and reassuring – cataloging present tense validations of life. I offered affirming responses to their unspoken voices echoing like in Horton Hears a Who: “we are here, we are here, we are here.” We are alive, sharing these moments together. Surrounded by grief and need, my senses were attuned. But what about today, home in my world? Will I hear and act beyond the obvious context of a family gathering in loss? Will I be there for my family, for my friends, for my community in a way that assumes that everyone requires comfort, all the time? Will I change my capacity for caretaking and loving others, or just log checkmarks for self improvement?

I am not a believing woman. So if the celestial narrative is true, I will be lucky to be serving punch. If it is not true, I might be floating energy or compost or a cockroach. Whatever my ultimate destination, I left my father-in-law’s funeral feeling an urgency to focus on who and what is in my view, in my earshot, right in front of me. This resolve is trite, perhaps not sustainable, but I want to live differently.

This is not the post I meant to write. But I am thankful for my birthday this year. I will not inventory the past twelve months or plan too far into the future. I will sit quietly and appreciate a deep breath, my frizzy hair, and flex my wrinkled hands, listening intently for what I can do, now.  

#hearLDSwomen: My Name Was Changed on Church Records Without My Permission

[image error]Every time I move and have to fill out a new member sheet, there are two columns for adult household members. The one marked “head of household” asks about priesthood ordination. The other column doesn’t. I always cross out “head of household” and “spouse” and write in “equal partners” or “husband” and “wife.”

– Emily Belanger

 

I showed up at church after I was married and found my last name had been automatically changed as a “courtesy” to me. At that point I was not sure if I was keeping my name or changing it, but I was sure that it was not a courtesy to change MY name without asking me. “Change it back,” I told the clerk in a steely voice I didn’t know I had. He told me that there wasn’t a way to do so. He seemed taken aback and said something along the lines of “most women found it helpful.” Fortunately, my husband had been a clerk multiple times and showed him how to change it. I know many women who have had similar experiences and were told by (ignorant) church leadership that there wasn’t a way to change their names back. My husband’s take was that the clerk just didn’t know how to use the system and felt embarrassed  about it, not that it was a systemic issue, but I see it differently.

– Ashley Groesbeck

 

My husband and I have different last names. Mine is Denison, his is Rasmussen. I was on the organ one Sunday a few weeks ago, and the Bishop said “We’d like to thank Sister Rasmussen for playing the organ.” My husband said, with a projected voice, “Sister DENISON.”

The last name thing happens pretty frequently. Also the Home Teachers who never ask me what I do because my husband’s school/work is what’s important, and the Bishopric members who ask my husband if I can have a calling. My husband is pretty good at noticing those things and calling them out. I got a good one.

– Shelley Denison

 

Pro Tip: Don’t change a woman’s name in the directory without asking her first, and call her by her correct and preferred name. Treat couples like they are equal partners. Remove “head of household” from ward forms. 

Click here to read all of the stories in our #hearLDSwomen series. Has anything like this happened to you? Please share in the comments or submit your experience(s) to participate in the series.

“If any man have ears to hear, let him hear.” (Mark 4:23)

Guest Post: You Don’t Have to Apologize

[image error]by Leslie Dalton

Dear Church Leaders:

We get it. The Church doesn’t apologize. For whatever reason–God might seem fallible, you might seem fallible, or we all believe in moving forward and not dwelling on past things that are now changing for the better for no other reason than God wants to make changes–you don’t apologize. You don’t have to. What we really need is confirmation that we are seen and heard.

Turns out, there are many ways to provide information on changes within the Church that could provide multitudes of members (former and current) with comfort and hope. Here are a couple I can think of. Feel free to adapt as necessary.

1. The Lord has heard your prayers. We understand that many of you have been supplicating Him for a long time over ________________, and God is rewarding your faith and patience with new revelation. We are grateful that He chooses to continue to reveal truth to us, his imperfect servants, in ways that allow you to feel His great love for you. Let us all rejoice together in His mercy and long-suffering.

2. We have heard your cries. We do not profess to be infallible or perfect. In fact, we are quite the opposite. Often we do not understand issues that others find challenging. But we try to listen, and we take your concerns to the Lord. We know you have made ___________________ a matter of personal prayer, and we honor your faithfulness. Sometimes it takes years or even decades for us to fully understand the pain of those whose path in life we do not walk. But as you make those concerns known to us, we, your servants, are humbled to be able to take them to God and ask what He would have us do to move His church forward and make it a place of joy and welcome for all. He knows each of you as we never will, and makes His will known through us as we strive to serve His beloved children. Let us all rejoice together in His mercy and long-suffering.

One or both of these things must be true. Please don’t ask us to believe that God distilled new information on you in a vacuum, without any input from Church members to yourselves or to Him. The scriptures have many examples of prophets who have listened to the people and taken their concerns to God, as well as instances where God has heard His people cry and shown mercy on them by providing revelation to His prophets. This is how we’ve been told God works. And yet you continue to throw new information out, decades behind the rest of the world, as if God simply felt it was time to make these changes, and isn’t it wonderful.

We’ve all seen the way women in the Church have been asking for greater equality for many, many years. We’ve seen members excommunicated from the Body of Christ for protesting inequality. We know you’re aware that the Church is hemorrhaging members–particularly women. How fascinating that God simply speaks to you with new information at a time of great upheaval, when you have just begun to recognize that the current situation is untenable.

God is unchanging–we understand this. His ways are not our ways. We also understand this. Why not take this opportunity to separate yourselves from God a little–just to make sure Church members understand that you are imperfect mouthpieces, and sometimes you take a while to grasp what God always wanted? After all, it took a century for you to realize that Brigham Young was a racist, and his racism had perpetuated itself throughout the Church to the extreme detriment of thousands of faithful people of color. This is clearly stated in one of the essays on the Church website. What a beautiful example of God’s grace and your own imperfection, and a testimony to the fact that you are not the same as God. What better way to end some of the hero-worship that goes on in the Church that you try to combat by telling us you’re not perfect, all while telling us that everything you say is exactly what God wants right now? We know that’s not true. Stop gaslighting us and own your flaws.

You don’t have to apologize. God doesn’t have to apologize. But you do need to let His people know that change comes when they beg Him to help you see with new eyes, and that you are truly willing to take the questions of the people to Him, even when you don’t understand why they’re questioning. Surely you can see that refusing to do this much makes you look like insecure, unfaithful men who have no relationship with God and fear losing power. Surely God, in one of your many frank and open conversations with Him, has pointed this out. If not, perhaps you could check with Him the next time He gives you a random new direction for the Church.

Leslie is a daughter, wife, mother, and junior high English teacher. She doesn’t really believe open letters work, but it sure is cathartic to write them.

Guest Post: I Broke Up with God Because of the Temple. Now What?

[image error]by Nona.

Fifteen years ago, I became troubled about polygamy in the early church. As a faithful lifelong member, I brought my concerns to my district president at a temple recommend interview. He chastised me, told me that polygamy was the heavenly order of marriage and that the only problem with the practice was the jealous feelings of women like me. He encouraged me to read Doctrine and Covenants Section 132 and visit the temple and assured me that these resources would resolve all of my concerns.

Following his advice unleashed a crisis that would take me over a decade to work through. In those scriptures and through the temple I learned that everyone who had told me my whole life that God loved and valued me had been lying. The more I searched and pondered and wrestled with the issue, the more I came to believe that, as a woman, I was thought of by God as a lesser being. I also began to doubt my place in the eternities. To fear heaven.

I spent YEARS crying, praying, talking to church leaders, reading scripture, at times literally lying on the floor in despair. And at the end of the day I could not resolve this issue in any other way than to decide (primarily on the proof of every word uttered in the temple) that the district president had been correct. That, according to Mormonism, women are in fact lesser than men. If God wasn’t even willing to covenant directly with me–what did that say about me as a human?

Eventually, I realized I couldn’t live that way any longer. For the sake of my own mental, spiritual, and physical health I had to cut my emotional and spiritual ties to the church. I had to decide that it didn’t really matter to me. I let my temple recommend expire. I quit wearing garments. And while I continued to attend church, (because leaving the church is such a process–leaving the church would cause rifts in my family and social network) I quit looking to the church or God for moral guidance. Instead I turned inward. I began deciding for myself what the right choices in my life were.

And I became happy.

In order to become happy, I had to turn my back on the God who was hurting me. I kept the people in my life, because I truly believe that most Mormons are good, well intentioned people. It was God who had hurt me. It was God I couldn’t trust. It was God I left behind.

These changes leave me doubting that decision, but at the same time–I really couldn’t have lived like that for another five years as I waited on the changes to come. And I can’t just forgive and forget and go back. It’s too late for me. For the sake of survival, I let go of my faith. I can’t get it back now.

I’m really not sure I want to.

The Temple Changes and Combating Sacred Creep

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When I received my endowment a month before I left on my mission, I had no idea what covenants I would be required to make. I prepared myself as thoroughly as I possibly could. I read The Pearl of Great Price twice because my dad told me a lot of the endowment content could be found there. I attended two temple prep classes, one in my singles’ ward and one in the home of my family ward former bishopric member. I even read Boyd K. Packer’s The Holy Temple, which, as far as I could tell, revealed absolutely nothing about the endowment ceremony in 200+ bone dry pages. I fasted and prayed and studied and confided my anxieties about the unknowns of the temple to my mom and my priesthood leaders, who reassured me I’d be fine.

And I still found myself completely blindsided by that first covenant in the endowment: that I had to bow my head and pledge obedience to a husband who didn’t even exist. I remember looking, panicked, at my escort, my mother, out of the corner of my eye. “Is this okay?” I tried to telegraph to her. “Are we really okay with this?”

I could hear her voice cut through the unison female voices as we chorused “Yes.” My voice rasped like a door slamming shut.

Afterward, I felt like I couldn’t bring it up, like that part of the endowment was a dirty secret we weren’t allowed to mention. To talk about it would be to acknowledge the disparity, to suggest that it wasn’t normal, to admit that there was a snake in Eden.

*

In Mormon circles, the term “priesthood creep” is used to describe the broadening of priesthood responsibilities: when policies are changed so that holding the priesthood becomes a prerequisite to performing a task that formerly didn’t require it. Examples include giving healing blessings, dedicating graves, and serving as stake financial auditors. The term is derived from “mission creep,” which is defined by Wikipedia as “the gradual or incremental expansion of an intervention, project or mission beyond its original scope, focus or goals.”

I’m going to suggest another Mormon-specific variant: sacred creep. Sacred creep occurs when topics that should be fair game for discussion are labeled “sacred” to shut down discourse. We’ve witnessed this in regard to Heavenly Mother for decades: the cultural narrative has been that we aren’t supposed to speculate about her because she’s “too sacred” to talk about. Sacred creep also manifests when we feel we can’t question things because it would challenge the status quo: the assumption is that the reason things are the way they are is because that’s how God wants it, i.e. it’s sacred. Gender roles laid out in the Family Proclamation are labeled “divine design” and “sacred responsibilities,” placing them above critique. Questioning anything that is considered sacred and thus divinely appointed is treated like steadying the ark or corrupting divine doctrinal pearls with grubby human hands.

Members of the Church are so anxious to keep the rules, we often become more and more conservative “just to be safe” and to avoid crossing a line inadvertently. Despite correlated policies, we see the phenomenon of “looking beyond the mark” from both leaders and individual members in everything from what women are allowed to do in our wards (“women can’t be in a church building without a priesthood holder”) to the dress code we abide by (“women should dress to cover garments even if they haven’t been endowed”) to the media we allow ourselves to consume (“no PG-13 movies are appropriate, regardless of content”) to the food we eat (“no coffee flavored ice cream”). It’s fine to have personal codes that differ from the group, but when these unnecessarily strict standards are projected onto other people or lauded as being extra righteous, it’s a problem.

Sacred creep is the secrets version of the Pharisees’ treatment of the Law of Moses: if not revealing the signs and tokens of the temple is the rule, then not disclosing the covenants is even better, and avoiding speaking about the content of the ordinances except in the vaguest of generalities is safest of all. We label them sacred and thus taboo, building so many fences to keep us from the edge that we forget where the edge was to begin with. Case in point is the concluding sentence in the First Presidency’s public statement coinciding with the temple changes: “A dedicated temple is the most holy of any place of worship on the earth. Its ordinances are sacred and are not discussed outside a holy temple.” Apart from being a much broader nondisclosure mandate than we actually covenant to in the temple and a major instance of sacred creep, this directive serves both to discourage members from processing the temple changes or problems together and to discredit the people and entities that speak and write about the temple.

The irony is that the temple changes came about precisely because women spoke up about the problematic aspects of the ordinances: members who hadn’t attended the temple in awhile were sent surveys asking about their experiences, and dozens of men and women were interviewed at length by the correlation department in the months before the new script was rolled out. Women giving voice to their experiences directly informed the changes that were made. But now we’re being told we can’t speak: not about the ordinances themselves, not about the changes, not even about the fact that changes have occurred.

Silencing–particularly of marginalized groups–is a weapon of oppression, and it has been used against women in the Church for nearly two hundred years. In every context I can think of–professional, religious, political, relationships–people must be permitted to discuss things they find problematic or troubling because secrecy, even and especially about sacred things, creates an environment where abuses can occur unchecked. Not allowing discussion of the temple changes erases women’s pain and experiences as well as minimizes legitimate questions about what these changes mean.

Unlike priesthood creep, which, because it’s often codified in policy, we generally can’t do much to change, combating sacred creep is possible. If we resist the cultural norms that encourage silence, we can reclaim ground from sacred creep by speaking out about problematic (or beneficial!) aspects of our doctrine and practice. When others use sacredness as an invocation for silence, we can respectfully push back with reasons why discussion is important. We can point out the glaring absence of Heavenly Mother in our theology and assert that the “she’s too sacred to talk about” rhetoric is not doctrinal. When someone attempts to shut down conversation about the changes or the sexism inherent in the temple, we can share our experiences while explaining that it does not violate our covenants to do so and that sacred does not mean secret. When pushing back against doctrines that are harmful for many, like gender roles or LGBT issues, we can assert that understanding of what doctrine is evolves over time and point to the Adam God doctrine, the temple changes, polygamy, and the temple and priesthood ban for blacks as examples.

I will fight sacred creep in my personal sphere by teaching my daughters and my son exactly what they will covenant in the temple and by modeling that no facet of the gospel is too sacred to examine, talk about or question.

If we use our voices to break the silence, we’ll break the taboos.

Exponent II Winter 2019: Subscribe!

[image error]Cover art by Jaquilyn Shumate. 
www.jaquilynshumate.com

The Winter 2019 issue of Exponent II is our annual contest issue, this one centered around the question of Mormon women wrestle with scripture. We asked: How have you interrogated a text and demanded to know more as well as demanded from yourself more insight than you had before?

The responses were incredible. This issue includes Lindsay Denton’s essay about the effort of seeking revelation through study (D&C 9:8), Heidi Toth’s essay about whether her imperfect faith is enough (Mark 9:23-24), and Lauren Ellison’s essay about the challenge of singing the song of redeeming love with a child who was burdened with addiction (Alma 5:26). The issue also includes an artist feature with Annie Poon, whose work has been featured in the Metropolitan Museum of Art and whose book “Draw Your Way Through the Book of Mormon” will appear in April. We interview Jana Reiss, whose work in Mormon feminist theology has given new understanding to scripture. Other essays and poetry tackle polygamy, the racist parts of the Book of Mormon, doubt, and divine support during a period of deep struggle. The winning essay, “Brick and Martyr” by Stephanie Sorensen, describes her personal journey of recovering from a childhood steeped in polygamist patriarchal abuse. This is an issue not to be missed.

You can subscribe to Exponent II at www.exponentii.org/shop by January 28, 2019. Subscriptions are a vital part of the survival of Exponent II. If you appreciate the work that we do, please subscribe or buy someone you love a gift subscription. Thank you!

And special thanks to Jaquilyn Shumate for the use of her art for the cover. Here’s her artist statement: Somewhere inside of me, she was calling out. From way deep down in an unexplored crevice. What started as a gentle whisper gradually became a rhythmic chant. When I went inside of myself to seek out the voice, there was a familiarity in her tone. I couldn’t place it, but I sensed she knew me. And I had known her. Adventurer, nurturer, lover, fighter, and Creator. I dove down deep, and when I finally found Her I saw myself clearly for the first time. Limitless.

Book Review: Sister Saints

[image error]I enjoyed this book immensely and learned a great deal from it. Sister Saints is very comprehensive, well-researched, and takes you through the different time periods of the church’s history. It does a great job of explaining the context behind the events, which was helpful for me, since I wasn’t alive during those times.

I was surprised to read that, during Amy Lyman’s leadership, women could receive a special church calling as a social worker. They received professional training and got paid. This is the only instance I’ve ever heard of a woman having a paid (and professional) calling in the church. I also enjoyed the story of the Hawaiian sisters who, when told that their hard-earned money (which had belonged to the Relief Society) would now be under the Bishop’s stewardship, decided to spend their money at a nice restaurant. The book talks about all kinds of issues that relate to LDS women, such as Heavenly Mother, voting rights, contraceptives, and the Equal Rights Amendment.

Too often we hear only about men in the Church. I remember when the Sunday lessons were the Teachings of the Prophets. Whenever I studied Church History or the Doctrine & Covenants, it was all about men. It made it seem like only men were the active participants in establishing the church. The only women who are really talked about are Emma Smith, Lucy Mack Smith, and Eliza R. Snow. Because of this, I hunger to hear women’s voices in church history, and this book definitely fulfills this need. It shows that women have been active participants in the church all along. The book points out that polygamy wouldn’t have survived as long as it did if the women hadn’t been on board with it. I hadn’t seen it from that angle before. I was surprised to read that a good thing that came out of polygamy was women receiving the right to vote. I hadn’t made that connection before: that polygamy helped women get the right to vote in Utah. Sister Saints is filled with many interesting connections and perspectives.

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Colleen McDannell, Author

One of my favorite things in this book is the variety of voices and opinions given by women. The book is filled with many women’s names (most of whom I’d never heard of before) and there were also many names I recognized, especially the LDS feminists of today. The book mentions both famous women from church history and lesser known women, and specifically mentioned if it was referring to black women or white women. All too often, when church history mentions women, it really only means white women. So I appreciated that this book made the correct distinctions and included black women.

Another thing I appreciate in this book is the different perspectives. When it talks about the Relief Society saving up money for their own Relief Society building, it explains both the women’s perspectives and the men’s perspectives of the situation. Basically, the Church didn’t sell the land to the Relief Society anymore, like they had promised, but instead built a building for the Presiding Bishopric and gave a few rooms to the Relief Society leadership. Bathsheba Smith’s perspective was that the women had sacrificed so much to save money to buy the land for the Relief Society building, so she was sorrowful. The men, on the other hand, viewed it differently. They felt that the women had wasted their time and hadn’t raised enough money. While reading this book, I sometimes felt like crying because events like this seem so unfair. But don’t let this stop you from reading the book. It’s very uplifting as well because it shows how women influenced the church despite the limits the church placed on them.

There were many things I had never heard of before, such as Fascinating Womanhood (a crazy book which told women to act like children) or Mark Hoffman (who sold fake historical documents to the Church). I felt sad when I read about how the women’s accomplishments were ignored by men as the church leadership directed more and more responsibilities to be taken away from the Relief Society and given to the men instead.

The book mentions the conflicting messages the Church gave about women. I felt sad and angry at many of the quotes by men who said negative things about women. It shocked me that some church leaders said those things, such as Brigham Young saying that women shouldn’t meet together because they’d cause trouble. The book mentions some quotes by him ranging from his attempts to limit women and then later realizing that he needed the women’s support. After that, his quotes were very favorable towards women.

These are just a few of the many stories found in this book. If you enjoy learning about LDS history, especially LDS women’s history, this book is definitely for you.

Sister Saints: Mormon Women since the End of Polygamy

Guest Post: A Single Step

[image error]by Marie

I think we’ve all heard the proverb—A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. As an avid hiker, it’s one of my favorites. As a human stumbling my way through a faith transition, it’s a perfect analogy.

When I was a Primary kid I learned all about the straight and narrow path. It was supposed to be a safe space, free from the chaos and dangers of the world. At 21, two months before I was supposed to report to the MTC, I was endowed. The peace and safety of the straight and narrow path I was on suddenly seemed more like a front for something menacing. For the first time I found myself really wondering where this path was taking me.

Why was my eternal potential as a woman limited to becoming a Queen and priestess to my husband?

It was a question that curled, taut, at the back of my brain for 18 months and struck with the slightest provocation. District leader making snide remarks about uppity women wanting to be bishops? Crack. Area full of females desperately in need of a branch, but no males to provide the leadership? Crack. Ward mission leader telling me to just go back to my area and let the Elders handle all the planning? Crack. Realizing that in order to have a voice in anything at all I’d have to scream until I choked in the blood dripping from my own raw throat? Crack. Each wound leached poison into my soul. Perhaps this is the plan that my oh-so-loving Father in Heaven had put in place: I was to help a faceless husband metamorphize into a glorious a creator of worlds and then be shunted to the sidelines—silent, aching, and ignored.

Through all this I continued on that straight and narrow path, pulled forward in the rush of bodies around me. “Come with us,” they cried, “It will be magnificent!” I couldn’t help but notice that the ground beneath my feet was stale in contrast to the verdant undergrowth off to the side of the path. I wondered if anyone else saw what I saw. I wondered if they all knew where they were going.

Why was my eternal potential as a woman limited to becoming a Queen and priestess to my husband?

One could say that this question became my first step in a journey of a thousand miles that has led me from the straight and narrow. I’ve bushwhacked through dreary forests at twilight, forded ice-choked mountain streams, and stumbled through fog so dense that at times I could barely draw a breath. My knees are scarred and my clothes shredded. But muscles that were soft from the ease of the path are now strong and I’ve learned to navigate by the light I see around me.

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. But what happens to that journey when things change and that first step is rendered meaningless, a reaction to a phantom from the past? Were all my wanderings a hapless mistake? Is the vista undulating before me any less beautiful? The lessons I’ve learned any less important? The person I’ve become any less Christlike?

Behind me in the distance from where I’m perched I can still see the well-worn path, my friends and family faithfully plodding along, eyes focused on the ground.