Exponent II's Blog, page 24

Retreat Friday Nights

Consider attending this year’s Exponent II Retreat on September 19-21, 2025, at the Barbara C. Harris Center in Greenfield, New Hampshire! Registrations opens May 3. Learn more here.

This is an essay by the late Carrel Hilton Sheldon, an Exponent II Founding Mother who led the Friday night introductions at the Exponent II Retreat for many years.

In the Spring 2024 issue, Exponent II historian Heather Sundahl wrote, “For me, the retreat succeeds because of principles laid out during Friday night introductions, as conceived by Carrel Sheldon, where each attendee gets roughly a minute to share something significant from their past year. But what happens before the individual sharing not only sets the stage for open hearts, it creates a tone for the weekend that allows a group of disparate women to bypass many of the hurdles that prevent cohesion.”

Carrel Hilton Sheldon leading the Friday night introductions at the Exponent II RetreatRetreat Friday Nights, by Carrel Hilton Sheldon

I am a true believer in open, honest sharing as a way to greater self-awareness, intimacy, connection, and insight. So I love having the marvelous opportunity every year at the Exponent retreat to run the opening ceremony of introductions on Friday night. The connection that we experience rarely happens in a group—but it always happens on Retreat Friday Night.

I can’t give you an experience of our Retreat Friday Night—you have to be there. An energy exists in the room that doesn’t translate to a flat, printed page. Seventy women gather round a fire and each share something significant and real that happened to her in the past year—not just “reporting” on it, but letting us know what it meant to her, how it changed her, how she felt (and now feels) about it, how she has or hasn’t resolved it. The range of shared experience includes joy, depression, confusion, insight, suffering, gratitude, spiritual highs and lows. Loved ones have died or left, dreams have been realized, children have gone astray, testimonies have been strengthened or perhaps lost.

The sharing unfolds differently each year. Sometimes one idea is repeated more than others, and a theme unfolds. After the retreat, we sometimes say, “This was a sweet year” or “There sure is a lot of suffering this year” or “The frustration level is high.”

The greatest contribution to the evening comes from the individual efforts of every woman in the room. It takes courage to stand before strangers and reveal things they may not have spoken about before. It takes commitment to push through people’s automatic judgments of others, their nonacceptance, their opinions of what they should or shouldn’t say or do. It’s so easy for individuals to think they have the answers for others. One person’s self-expression can inspire, delight, enlighten, or offend different listeners at the same time.

What I provide the group before we start sharing on Friday night is a common understanding of some principles and practice that fosters acceptance, trust, and individual responsibility, which alters our experience that night and over the course of the weekend. In general, we’re more aware of ourselves and others—we’re a little deeper, a little truer, more understanding, more self-expressive.

I begin by asking that each woman look at her own expectations of the weekend: first, the unmet—and unmeetable—kind, where you feel disappointed. Some women come wanting to see someone who isn’t there—or even come hoping that someone who is here wouldn’t be here! Or maybe some people expected warmer weather—or flush toilets. Once we bring these unmeetable expectations to awareness, we can let them go. Women also come with hopes for social and spiritual enrichment, communion with nature, and good conversation. People believe that someone or something may take care of those kinds of expectations for them. Sometimes that happens, often not. To deal with these kinds of expectations, I ask retreat participants to examine what they’d like to get from the retreat to see which of those things we are willing and able to be responsible for. In choosing to be responsible for making something happen, they can transform those hopeful expectations into intentions.

The second thing I have us examine is the possibility of Trust as a Gift. In a setting like a retreat, trust isn’t something each of us has a chance of earning. However, trust can be a gift we individually give to the group. We overcome our fears, concerns, excuses, and “push through” to being willing to trust. We do it by choice. Trust allows us to be more open and expressive of who we really are. Trusting the group is both a gift to the group and a gift to the self. I ask that each participant give that gift to whatever level she is able. The other side of the gift of trust is being a worthy recipient of that trust. That means being responsible with what we hear. It means listening with the desire to understand another’s experience or point of view and not letting our judgments get in the way.
The third thing I talk about is acceptance—each woman’s acceptance of herself and others. No one has to prove herself at an Exponent retreat. There is no competition. No one has to impress us. Each person is fine just the way she is. Failure to accept another, for whatever reason—too fat, too thin, too happy, too angry, the wrong marital status, too old, too young, too many children, not enough, too liberal, too conservative—we all have plenty of reasons—cuts off the ability to really hear that person. A person’s ability to speak and her ability to listen are transformed by acceptance.

With these three principles, a couple of simple ground rules, and a specific question to address, I take the first turn to share, and we proceed around the room—woman after woman, sharing a bit of herself. And there we are, having another great Retreat Friday Night.

Sign up for the Exponent II monthly newsletter to stay updated with announcements and retreat registration information. As this blog series develops, read more blog posts about the Exponent II retreat.

The General Conference Abortion Talk I Actually Want to Hear

In his General Conference talk on Saturday, Elder Neil Andersen spoke about abortion, touching on the preciousness of unborn life, discouraging people from choosing or supporting abortions except in certain circumstances, and the need to support and love single women and teens who face unexpected pregnancies. The climax of his talk was a story about a man who had an affair. [1] “A single woman became pregnant,” he tells us, as though this is a thing that just happens to single women out of nowhere.

Here is what he should have said: “The man, through his recklessness and irresponsibility, caused a pregnancy.”

Men cause 100% of unplanned pregnancies [2], yet in the church’s narrative, which echoes the broader pro-life narrative, it is women who “become pregnant” seemingly on their own, women who are expected to carry unwanted pregnancies regardless of the personal toll or the lack of societal supports, women who must sacrifice themselves on the altar of “life at all costs,” whether that means carrying a man’s child or volunteering to raise their husband’s child from an affair. We are expected to be selfless saints, giving up whatever it takes (no price too high!) to avoid abortions.

If Elder Andersen actually wants to reduce abortions, he needs to put men back in the narrative. He needs to stop treating unplanned pregnancies as some foregone conclusion that must be preserved at all costs–specifically, at the cost of women. The men who cause these pregnancies bear little to no consequence, whether socially, physically, or financially. Andersen and the men he quotes in his talk decry abortions “for personal or social convenience” as though wanting to avoid months of constant puking and weeks of unpaid leave at work–things many women literally cannot afford–is a “personal convenience” on par with ordering takeout instead of cooking a meal from scratch. Abortion cannot happen if there is no pregnancy, and unplanned pregnancies happen when men don’t take responsibility for their sperm. Educating boys and men about their responsibility in pregnancy, instead of framing unplanned pregnancy as merely a “women’s issue,” is essential to reducing the number of elective abortions. Contrary to Elder Andersen’s phrasing, single women do not just “become pregnant.” Men impregnate them.

I would love to see Elder Andersen and the rest of the men who lead our church take their opposition to abortion so seriously that they prevent abortions by eliminating the need for them in the first place. If men do not have unprotected sex, there are no unintended pregnancies. If there are no unintended pregnancies, there are no elective abortions. Imagine Elder Andersen saying, “Men, you having unprotected sex with women who don’t want to be pregnant causes abortions. If you cherish life, as God does, you will not put women in a position where they will ever need to even consider abortion. If you keep the law of chastity and respect your wife’s desires around when to have children, you will be instrumental in ending elective abortions.”

He could acknowledge that sometimes we fall short and break the law of chastity, but that even in those circumstances, there is never an excuse for a man risking the life and health and well-being of his sexual partner by not taking responsibility for his own sperm. He could say, “Men and young men, greater than the sin of having sex outside of marriage is the sin of endangering the health and life of your partner by causing an unintended pregnancy, which will have huge physical, emotional, and financial consequences for your partner and could lead to an abortion. If you break the law of chastity, do not compound the sin by being reckless with unprotected sex.”

Elder Andersen did show compassion for women dealing with an unexpected pregnancy, saying, “When a single woman discovers that she is expecting an unanticipated child, health concerns, spiritual turmoil, embarrassment, financial worries, educational questions, marriage uncertainty, and the sadness of shattered dreams can, in a moment of pain and bewilderment, lead a thoughtful woman to take steps that will bring deep pain and regret.” Sidestepping the fact that married women have abortions and complicated feelings around unplanned pregnancies too, let’s talk about regret. While some women deeply regret having an abortion, the overwhelming majority do not. In one study, five years after their abortions, 95% of participants said that it was the right decision. [3] Most women do not experience the “deep pain and regret” Elder Andersen mentions; instead, their primary feeling is relief. If the majority of women who have abortions don’t feel regret, it seems unlikely that abortion rates will decrease by simply stigmatizing the procedure.

Elder Andersen states, “The diminishing love for unborn children worldwide is a grave concern,” but is it really a lack of love for the unborn that drives women to choose abortion? The research says no. The three most common reasons from one study for why women had abortions are: “having a child would interfere with a woman’s education, work or ability to care for dependents (74%); that she could not afford a baby now (73%); and that she did not want to be a single mother or was having relationship problems (48%).” [4] Lack of love for unborn children doesn’t make the list, just overwhelming practical concerns about the realities of adding a baby to their already complex circumstances.

Elder Andersen could encourage advocating for social and legislative changes that address the reasons women seek abortions in the first place. He could say something like: “Brethren, in addition to reducing abortions by personally taking steps to eliminate unplanned pregnancies, we can further reduce the demand for abortions by advocating for measures proven to reduce teen pregnancy, like comprehensive sex education and free, accessible contraception. We can champion legislation that will reduce the burden of bearing children, such as mandatory paid parental leave, subsidized childcare, and flexible working condition that help mothers stay in the workforce. We can support for programs like WIC and Medicaid that make it possible for low-income women to access food and prenatal care. Those of our members who own businesses can show they value life by offering these benefits even when their governments don’t mandate them. I am pleased to announce that the church will lead by example by providing free birth control (including vasectomies) for all of our employees, plus six months of paid maternity and paternity leave, paid leave for miscarriages and prenatal appointments, and subsidized childcare on-site.” [5]

Elder Andersen did not mention or express support for laws against abortion, but research shows that outlawing abortion doesn’t necessarily reduce the overall number of abortions, but it does make abortions less safe [6] and makes it harder for miscarrying women to access timely care, leading to higher maternal death rates. [7] If we care about the mothers of the unborn–and we should if we cherish life–then abortion bans aren’t the answer. Elder Andersen could say, “Because we view abortion as a moral issue rather than just a political one, it may be tempting to think that simply outlawing abortions will save the unborn. Unfortunately, studies show this is not the case. We need to carefully consider all of the unintended effects of good-intentioned laws and be sure that in our quest to save the unborn, we don’t unwittingly take the lives of their mothers.”

There are so many important conversations we could be having about how to prevent abortion and lovingly support women faced with unexpected pregnancies. Unfortunately, this talk barely scratched the surface. So yes, let’s have those Elder’s Quorum and Relief Society lessons “about the Lord’s law of chastity, the sanctity of life, and the care of the unborn and their mothers,” as Elder Andersen suggests, but let’s not stop there. Let’s bring men and boys into the conversation and acknowledge their vital responsibility in preventing unintended pregnancies. Let’s focus on solutions—like comprehensive sex education, accessible contraception, and a supportive social infrastructure—that have been proven to reduce unplanned pregnancy rates. Only by addressing these root causes can we effectively reduce abortions and offer real support to women in need.

[1] I don’t have space to unpack this story in this post, but the way he pedestalizes and makes a martyr of this woman while holding her up as an example is extremely problematic: “The man was unfaithful to his wife and his sacred covenants. A single woman became pregnant and wanted an abortion. The husband’s saintly wife pleaded with the woman to have the baby and promised that she would raise the child once he was born with her own children. The single woman thoughtfully agreed not to end the pregnancy.” And this “humble sister,” this “noble woman of God,” raised the son of her husband’s mistress. This story will DEFINITELY be used by abusive men against their wives.

[2] Please read Gabrielle Blair’s brilliant thread on this topic. It completely reframed the abortion debate and blew my mind. Her premise is that if men and boys valued their sexual partners and were raised to consider the potential effect of their irresponsible ejaculations, abortions would end overnight. She also wrote a book based on this essay, Ejaculate Responsibly. It is short and so good and should be required reading for every teen and adult.

[3] Five Years After Abortion, Nearly All Women Say It Was the Right Decision, Study Finds: Even Those Who Struggled to Make the Abortion Decision Supported it Years Later

[4] Reasons U.S. Women Have Abortions: Quantitative and Qualitative Perspectives

[5] As of 2017, the church pays for 6 weeks of maternity leave plus one week of parental leave (for moms or dads). As of 2023, the church’s insurance now covers most forms of birth control, with the exception of vasectomy or tubal ligation (unless a woman is over 40 or has had at least five children), though it is unclear whether deductibles or copays still apply. Prior to 2023, the church’s insurance did not cover any forms of birth control for any reason (unless a woman was over 40 or had had at least five children).

[6] Abortion restrictions don’t lower rates, report says: “Laws that seek to limit abortions around the world may not lower the rate of abortions but could make them less safe, according to a new report that illustrates the trend. In countries with the fewest restrictions, only 1% of abortions were the “least safe” kind from 2010 to 2014. That number jumps to 31% in the most restrictive countries…During the same period, abortions happened roughly as frequently in the most restrictive countries as they did in the least restrictive: 37 versus 34 abortions each year for every 1,000 women aged 15 to 44. “Restricting abortion laws does not eliminate the practice of abortion,” said Gilda Sedgh, principal research scientist at the Guttmacher Institute and one of the report’s authors.”

[7] A dramatic rise in pregnant women dying in Texas after abortion ban: “The number of women in Texas who died while pregnant, during labor or soon after childbirth skyrocketed following the state’s 2021 ban on abortion care — far outpacing a slower rise in maternal mortality across the nation, a new investigation of federal public health data finds. From 2019 to 2022, the rate of maternal mortality cases in Texas rose by 56%, compared with just 11% nationwide during the same time period….“There’s only one explanation for this staggering difference in maternal mortality,” said Nancy L. Cohen, president of the GEPI. “All the research points to Texas’ abortion ban as the primary driver of this alarming increase. Texas, I fear, is a harbinger of what’s to come in other states.””

Guest Post: Sexual Abuse in the Church

by Liz

I was sexually abused by my bishop as a child. The effects of that abuse and trauma have lingered throughout my life, shaping how I have viewed myself and the world around me, lacking trust in others, and finding fear in everything.  For years, I struggled to understand my worth, questioning my value and feeling trapped by the pain of my past. But there was a turning point. It wasn’t a magic moment or a quick fix, but a gradual journey that began with discovering the power of loving myself through the fear while also learning my true purpose as a mother, wife, daughter, and sister.

From 1998-2003, I was sexually abused by my bishop, Stanley Green. I was five years old when the abuse began. I was just old enough to go to kindergarten. Just tall enough to ride Space Mountain at Disney World. Just new enough to mold into the perfect victim.

I have often asked myself why me? Why did he choose me? I was quirky and fun. My favorite color was pink. I liked math. My favorite show was Molly in the Big Comfy Couch. My favorite food was chips. My favorite drink was Sunny D. I was outgoing. I wasn’t afraid of much…. Yet. And I was a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. That last identifying factor is what made me the perfect victim.

Growing up in my home and at church, I had been taught to be quiet, obedient, and submissive. In many ways, the messages I received about my own role in the world were contradictory: I was told I was precious, yet I was made to feel invisible. This invisibility led me to the very abuse that robbed me of my innocence. I was told to respect authority figures, yet my body and my voice were ignored and violated by the very authority that was called to protect. I felt powerless, as though I didn’t have the right to speak up for myself.

Being abused by authority can strip you of your sense of safety and trust. When you’ve been hurt by those who were meant to protect you, you’re forced to rebuild on a foundation such as sand (you know the song.)

My foundation was often faulty. I read and learned contradictory things from well meaning people who taught me to rise from the ashes. I remember my soul screaming that there was no way to rise from the ashes if the house was still on fire. Ultimately, it took nearly two decades to finally put out the fire and to rebuild again.

Unfortunately, my lack of trust extended to everyone. No one was off limits, and now that I’m a social worker, I have learned this to be true. This distrust as a victim, also extends into yourself. How did I let this happen? Why did I not say something sooner? Did I protect someone else? What if I didn’t do it right and someone else is getting hurt too? Is everyone like this? Is this normal? WILL IT EVER END?

Fortunately for me, when I built up the courage, my parents believed me. Unfortunately, when my dad turned him into our then bishop (Stanley had been released about 1 1/2 years earlier), he refused to turn him into the police department. My dad, being who he was, refused to let that slide and went further up to someone who would. This news was not accepted by those in my ward. I was called every name in the book. I was ostracized, ridiculed, and bullied. School had become my safe haven through the years, and even there, I wasn’t safe. I held strong knowing that if not me, then who? I went to court at 13. I testified. I held onto the last bit of courage that I had, and I did it. I finally saved myself despite being told that girls aren’t strong enough.

Dozens of other girls and women came forward after he was found guilty and sentenced to 90 years in prison. Turns out, girls really are strong.

I am still an active member of the church. I still find that sharing courage makes change. In 2006, my story reached the general authorities and because of my story and the stories of so many other survivors, windows were retrofitted to all of the interior doors to ensure visibility. In 2024, I began the legal process that would require background checks for bishops and any other leader that directly works with children and youth. I actively work in my community to ensure that everyone knows the dangers of trusting authority figures with their children.

Being a member of the church does not prevent abuse.

If you have been a victim, brighter days are ahead, but it’s okay if it takes a while for you to find them. Healing does not have a timeline and sometimes just trying is good enough.

There can be and is beauty in the church. For someone like me, it took quite some time to find it. Through my experience, I know that someone was out there watching over me. I choose that to be my Heavenly Parents, with an emphasis on a Heavenly Mother.  I cling to the idea that I will, to some capacity, be able to have my family forever.

Final advice? Believe your kids. Don’t trust your kids with anyone. No one is immune to abuse. Sexual abuse is a pandemic and it is spreading. Educate yourself AND YOUR KIDS and be prepared to advocate for them, even if it feels uncomfortable.

 

Liz is a mom of six boys, a wife, an advocate, a social worker, and a survivor.

Mere Footnotes

Years ago, I had the pleasure of meeting Elder Rasband in his office at church headquarters. He was cordial, warm, and inviting. I have no reason to think that he is anything but a good man.

But even the best people can be ill informed.

His remarks from General Conference show that he may be misunderstanding members of the church who find themselves on the fringes, and who may vocally express their discontent.

“There are naysayers who shout low here and low there just as they did in the Prophet Joseph Smith’s time,” he said. “However, they are and will be but mere footnotes in this noble work.” I assume he meant that to be a slight; that those who criticize the church will be nothing more than a faint and distant memory, their words lost in the margins, written in small, almost illegible text.

Though if one really considers what a footnote is, they will realize that they are the most important part of any good textbook.

Readers turn to the footnotes to verify that what the author is saying is backed by credible research and sources. In other words, footnotes confirm truth. They hold the author accountable. They are mandatory for a great research paper to hold any kind of merit.

I’ve once heard a researcher say that everyone ought to check the footnotes. Otherwise, we are believing another person’s (the author’s) interpretation of a subject matter, rather than coming to our own conclusions.

In fact, many members have left the church because of the footnotes found on the church’s own gospel topics essays.

“Mere” and “footnotes” don’t belong in the same sentence. There is nothing mere about them.

Rasband recalls Joseph Smith’s bold claim that no unhallowed hand can stop the work from progressing. He claims that the church is growing in a multitude of ways.

Unfortunately, I find his claims to be lacking footnotes. Not the naysayer kind of footnote, but the research kind.

The church loves to tout its membership of 17+ million members, yet refuses to share the quality of said number.

How many of that 17 million attend church on any given Sunday?

How many are temple recommend holders?

How many are active, believing members?

Ward clerks diligently count church attendance in every ward and branch all over the world.

The church has a database that shows which members hold a temple recommend.

They have a reliable number of who, out of that 17+ million, are active believers.

Yet, the footnotes are missing.

Rather than trust the speaker who claims that growth is happening, I’d rather trust the footnotes that show the numbers; footnotes that the church is selectively omitting, but others have found a way to research.

By all available metrics, church attendance is low. More women are leaving than men for the first time in the church’s history. Secularism is on the rise and all religions are hurting for it.

Just because you build temples at an unprecedented rate does not mean that they are filled.

Just because you have thousands of missionaries in the field does not mean that many are listening to their message.

Just because you have converts does not mean that they are staying.

If the church is so proud of its growth, than show it. Give us the statistics. Give us the research.

Give us the footnotes.

It means little to me if the church is growing or not. I find that there are more important topics to discuss. But the church’s insistence on emphasizing growth with nothing to back it up is nauseating.

It is easy to claim “all is well in Zion.” It is soothing to hear that the church is growing and question it no further. It is effortless to call your critics “mere footnotes.”

Meanwhile, we footnotes will continue to do the hard work. We will look at the shadows of our institution; the dark and hidden places that some dare not go. We will confront the messy and the incomprehensible. We will ask the tough questions and raise the bar when it has fallen well short. We will mourn with those who mourn and weep with those who weep when the church’s mistakes cause harm.

Because thats what footnotes do. They dig, reveal, and dare to exclaim the quiet part out loud, even if nobody is listening.

Considering Rasband’s view on what a “footnote” is, I’m not convinced that he and his colleagues have much appreciation for what they can offer.

They’re not the ones reading the footnotes.

But thats okay. We know our worth.

His comment does not feel rooted in kindness and understanding. It is not in harmony with President Nelson’s call for peacemakers (though President Nelson has unfortunately fallen short of that call as well). It was an unnecessary statement that offered nothing to his core message. I’m not sure if his intent was to shame those who criticize, or to minimize their influence throughout Mormon history. Maybe it was a little bit of both. Either way, his remark shows that footnotes are seriously underestimated.

While the slander continues to come from the pulpit every General Conference, we lazy learners will continue naysaying and writing in the margins in the hopes that maybe someone out there is listening; that maybe we can finally build a community where everyone is welcome, even if they have a few questions or critiques.

The Quorum of the Twelve and First Presidency are in need of footnotes. Badly.

Not just the research kind, but the naysayer kind, too.

Mormon feminist and Mormon studies communities gather to honor Exponent founding mother Claudia Bushman

If you couldn’t be there, check out this write-up of the event in the Salt Lake Tribune.

Despite obeying an LDS apostle’s demand that she quit as Exponent II editor, this feminist hero thrived in the churchSpunky but spiritual go-getter Claudia Bushman helped launch landmark magazines, wrote trailblazing books, inspired generations of women and ensured that “housewives with crying babies” be taken seriously.

Guest Post: Revelation — Rooted in Personal Experience

by Vicki van den Eikhof

As a woman, patriarchal order has always been a challenge for me, and as a mother of children with a variety of challenges to traditional observances of my LDS faith, I have struggled for some time with how they might be included in the church. For years, I waited for announcements of new revelation from SLC that would answer all my questions and pave a clear pathway for my children’s inclusion. That has yet to happen, which has led me to ponder:  Should I even expect the leaders of the church to ask God questions on my behalf? What kinds of answers should I expect them to provide?

Our recent stake conference brought me new insights into the influence of personal experience on revelation, and caused me to reflect–again–on my expectation that others will receive revelation on my behalf, or on behalf of my family. 

Members were invited to submit questions in advance about things weighing on their minds, to be addressed at stake conference. During the adult session of stake conference, the visiting general authority explained that of the 50-60 questions submitted, stake leaders prayerfully selected four. Under the guidance of the Spirit, they chose members of the stake to wrestle with these questions–as if they were being asked by a friend. They were invited to come up to the stand and explain what they found, then the congregation asked followup questions or added their own ideas. 

Two of the questions/responses demonstrated the power of personal authority and experience to generate not only revelation, but also provide a witness of truth.

“My child has chosen to not participate in church anymore. I feel like a bad parent. How do I maintain a relationship with both the church and my child?” The sister assigned to respond had real depth of personal experience with this topic. It was something she had obviously worked hard to understand for many years. She had siblings who left the church for many decades and only recently returned, and grown children who have recently left the church. Her response to the question was passionate and moving and felt truly inspired. She spoke with personal authority on a topic she intimately understood. Her inspired words also brought out some great comments from the congregation.

Similarly, the question “How do I keep attending church when I feel like I don’t belong or have real friends there, and my sins are many?” was addressed powerfully by a young brother who spoke from a wealth of personal experience–leaving the church at 18 and joining the military. Spending years watching his friends struggle with addictions and failed relationships helped him learn what he didn’t want for himself. He returned to church activity and eventually served a mission. It was obvious that going to church while feeling out of place there was something he had personal experience with. Even though he was probably under 30 years old, his response was authentic and moving.

The other two questions demonstrated how our personal experience can also limit revelation. 

A husband and wife were asked about how to handle the many demands of family life, church responsibilities, careers, etc., without getting overwhelmed. While I enjoyed what they had to say, they spoke from their own experience, which was limited to a married couple who both agreed on a faith tradition and how they would practice it. Over 50% of the members of the church are NOT in a relationship like this. The visiting GA even asked them directly, “What advice would you give to someone who is a single parent, or whose spouse was not supportive?” It was obvious they hadn’t thought about it from any other perspective but their own and they struggled to respond when put on the spot. 

Sister X was asked to respond to the question, “What am I supposed to take from the scriptures as a woman, when the scriptures were written by men, about men, for men? How do I apply them to myself?” Sister X was honest, saying, “This is not a question I’ve ever really thought about before,” and it was evident in her response, which I found to be mostly platitudes and unsatisfying. I could tell she hadn’t spent years grappling with this. Certainly, it can be a good exercise to wrestle with the questions of others–ones that you don’t struggle with–but I could feel on a visceral level the limitations of this approach. 

I had many thoughts I wanted to share on the last topic, having been a student of the scriptures since starting seminary at 14, and teaching seminary for a decade, but I was leading the music, seated on the stand. The visiting GA had his back to me, so would never see my hand raised. I didn’t feel right about walking up to the mic while someone else was already standing there. This question was not assigned to me and I was in a position where I didn’t feel like I could lend my voice and experience to try to answer it. It was frustrating. I’m grateful to Sister X for her honesty, and found it difficult to be mad at her for her less-than-satisfying answers when she only had a week to think about it. I was tempted to shift my frustration to those who organized the meeting, but before I got too far with that, the Lord gave me my own personal learning opportunity.

My take-aways from stake conference:

God’s ability to answer our questions is constrained by our limitations. Things like how much work I’ve done trying to answer a question, and what resources I’ve turned to–both of which are influenced by the culture I am surrounded by. Certain resources may be off-limits based on the thought processes, experiences, or social status handed to me as a youth (or adult). (See Doctrine and Covenants 1:24-28.)Sometimes God wants me to just listen and observe–not get up and talk. God can teach me in many ways, including by watching and listening. If that’s frustrating for me, I should confront myself about that before getting upset at anyone else. If God can teach me in many ways, I can trust God to teach others in many ways, too. The answers to the sister’s question about the scriptures are out there and God will help her find them. I don’t have to be the one to answer her question; it’s not all on me. [Hello, oldest child in a large family!]Because of the above, I will not always understand or agree with revelation that others receive–even leaders.  More often than I realized, the answers are just as personal as the question. If my ability to receive revelation for myself is limited, certainly my ability to receive revelation for others is even moreso, even if I have “stewardship” over them. With the challenges to effectively receive revelation for someone else, where do I draw the line with other people receiving revelation for me? How do we work together in a cohesive way within a church where some people are allowed (expected), to receive revelation for the group, and others feel helpless to get answers to their very real, very personal questions?

 

All of this got me thinking about how revelation works and my own expectations. How reasonable is it to think that someone who is asking a question that is not their own will get thorough answers from God? If our leaders are searching for answers to questions they are not personally asking (if they are asking questions that other people have, and not ones they have a personal, vested interest in), how much meaning can their revelation hold? (The design of women’s garments being a perfect example of this.) What are the limits of finding answers to questions that affect others, but not the one doing the asking?

While I have areas of struggle, one of the things I love about my church is the combination of top-down / bottom-up revelation. We have a strong top-down organization, with a clear chain of command and expectations of sustaining our leaders. But we ALSO counsel members against blind obedience. We are often told to obtain our own revelation about what church leaders are saying. We are taught to seek personal revelation from a young age and be actively engaged in doing good, and are given the gift of the Holy Ghost at 8 years-old to facilitate this. We truly believe in the ability and desire of God to speak into the lives of Their individual children. Many of the worldwide church programs we love today began because someone on the local level saw a need and did something. Women were inspired to organize the Relief Society. Organizations for children and seminary began as local efforts before being adopted church-wide. 

Navigating the intersection of the top-down / bottom-up revelatory processes is a feature of our church that I think we would benefit from recognizing and discussing more than we do. It is fertile ground for coming to understand God, and each other, better. The work of reconciling these different experiences seems to me to be a vital part of building Zion.

I don’t know what the visiting general authority intended to teach us with this approach, but I know what the Spirit taught me, and I am certain that it is both rooted in, and limited by, my own experience. 

 

The most valuable thing Vicki learned from her Master’s Degree in Sports Medicine is that she can do hard things. Bypassing a career in Sports Medicine, she spent 2.5 decades raising her four children with her husband. To keep from getting bored, she started several nonprofits and raised money for local schools’ performing arts and science programs, as well as teaching seminary for ten years. She now works in the non-profit sector trying to solve the housing crisis so her grown children can move out someday, while managing political campaigns on the side.

I can’t let my daughters watch that

Background: I am a woman. I have birthed three daughters. I am choosing to raise them in the church.

I turned on General Conference this afternoon. Elder Andersen (a man who has never been pregnant) stood and spoke about abortion to me and my three daughters.

His talk centered around stories of privileged women who considered having an abortion but ultimately decided not to and they were happy with that decision. Okay, great. Glad for them! 

But what about:

The women without the parental support?
The women without the financial support?
The women without the physical capabilities to care for their child?
The women without the mental capacity to care for their child?
The women who just can’t?

My thirteen year old rolled her eyes and said, “Mom, can we please turn this off?” I said, “Let’s talk about it instead.” We chatted: What nuances was his talk missing? What was he forgetting about? I let the TV continue to roll. The abortion debate is giant and I realize there are a million different opinions on it, but I can let my daughters learn various views about abortion. It’s probably good for them to hear this considering they are growing up in a very liberal bubble where everyone they know from school/extra-curricular activities is pro-choice. 

HOWEVER

Then we got to the story Elder Andersen shared about the married man who had an affair and impregnated a single woman. Given the woman’s lack of means/ability to care for the child, she decided to get an abortion. The man decided he didn’t want that, so he begged the woman to birth the child and then he made his wife raise the baby. 

I turned to my husband, “Just so you know, I hate this so much. If you ever impregnate some other woman, I will not raise the baby.” 

Maybe it worked well for that family. But that’s not a reason to talk about it in General Conference. Telling this story over the pulpit is adding fuel to the fire of abusive relationships. Awful men will use this talk to verbally abuse their wives and force their wives to continue living in subservience.

Think of all the verbally abusive men who will watch this talk and say to their wives things like: “Elder Andersen said we can easily get past this” or “The woman Elder Andersen talked about had to raise someone else’s kid. I’m not making you do that, so it’s no big deal” or “Elder Andersen’s talk really hit home. You can forgive me!”

While forgiveness is wonderful, having prophetic words from a man telling men what they should expect from their wives just fuels structures of abuse. 

I turned off the TV. I can’t let my daughters watch this. I’ve been taught to stand in holy places and stand up for what I believe in. 

I don’t believe in making my daughters internalize structures of abuse.

The arrow points to me and two of my daughters swimming out to that little islet in the distance. I want my daughters to know they are strong and have power.

Women, Power, and the Church: Wrestling with Messages of Authority and Belonging

It’s been a year since J. Anette Dennis said “The heavens are just as open to women who are endowed with God’s power flowing from their priesthood covenants as they are to men who bear the priesthood…There is no other religious organization in the world, that I know of, that has so broadly given power and authority to women.” You can read the whole talk here. When this popped up as an Instagram post on the LDS Church’s account, thousands of dissenting comments littered the page. I kept refreshing the page and witnessing the pain and chaos that ensued as the week progressed. The message still feels wrong in my body a year later. Her message felt like I was being gaslit, thinking, “Wait, do I really have this power? But what can I do with it? If women have as much power and authority as the men in the church, then why do I almost never see women on the stand? Is my daughter able to pass the sacrament? Why haven’t I seen my mother, a Stake Young Women’s President, be asked to speak at ward or stake conferences? Why could I never even hold my babies while they were blessed, let alone bless them?…” Etc.  

I hadn’t even attended church for two years and I was surprised at how upset I was. Some of my friends and I all watched a panel discussion on the Mormon Stories podcast (episode 1880) with Amy McPhie Allebest (Breaking Down Patriarchy), Chelsea Homer (Lost & Found Club), and musical artist Mindy Gledhill that dissected J. Annette Dennis’s talk. I told this group of friends that I had been numb in my spiritual life–resisting anything that touched my spirit, and I didn’t know why I was experiencing that. All my life I have felt really close to divinity, and at the time of this Instagram post I was avoiding anything religious. It seemed like my post-Mormon brain was battling my inner spirit and I felt so much anger. In my Marco Polo message to them on March 25, 2024, I explained how listening to these three beautiful souls (Amy, Mindy, and Chelsea) discuss the pain they’ve felt in the church opened my flood gates; I’d finally felt something beyond anger and apathy. This experience propelled me to do something to claim my body autonomy. I had wanted to pierce my nose since I was a little girl (they’re so cute!) but never let myself really think that I would or could ever do that. I made an appointment and pierced my right nostril two days later. I told my close friends, “I just wanted to feel something.” And boy, I did! Even though piercings, tattoos, and soon sleeveless shirts (hi, new garments) are becoming more common among active LDS members, I admittedly wanted something visible for others to look at and maybe pause before assuming that I was at church that week (when you live in Utah County, that is the assumption and understandably so!)

Recently, another church leader, popular LDS podcaster, and CES teacher at Brigham Young University Jared Halverson shared a portion of a Come Follow Me lesson that was also upsetting. You can watch and read his post here. In the video clip, he seems confused that women are leaving the church more often than men, and pleads for women to listen “with your feminine ears” to please stay. He makes some pretty bold and ignorant claims that seem shocking for someone who supposedly studies why people leave religion and join the “nones” category. The comment section flooded with mostly women sharing their pain. There was no lack of pointing out his pompous and condescending tone asking women to sacrifice the world and come back to the church. His attitude that women need to invest in the church and not be worldly is the same rhetoric that I heard in Relief Society, Sunday School, and General Conference talks, so that wasn’t surprising to me. The surprising part to me is that this topic is something he claims to research, “is frequently involved with interfaith dialogue”, and helps others through faith crises. Come on, dude, have you ever had a frank conversation with a post-mormon woman? Luckily, the women showed up and spoke up!

There was an excellent panel discussion about Halverson’s message on the YouTube channel Mormonism After Dark, hosted by Bill Reel and Radio Free Mormon with mental health therapist Dr. Julie Hanks and certified spiritual director Britt Hartley a couple days after Halverson’s post. Halverson later made an apology video that you can see here. Another discussion addressing Halverson’s post that is a must-see is on Mormon Stories (episode 2006) “Why are women leaving the Mormon church?” with two of our very own bloggers Katie Ludlow Rich and Abby Maxwell Hansen. Author, researcher, and senior columnist for Religion News Jana Riess joined them to show applicable data. Amy McPhie Allebest (Breaking Down Patriarchy) was also on the panel. I was so inspired by the grace and empathy these women have for Jared Halverson’s remarks and then apology. I thought they tied everything together beautifully with hope that he would listen to women’s voices and make changes in his approach to this sensitive topic. The women discuss how all women on the Mormon spectrum have more in common than not, and how if we have these productive discussions, we can build mutual respect for each others’ choices. I agree with them that Exponent II is an example of this and how meaningful this community is in that regard. They also point out that we love when men are willing, open, and curious to learn from women. Providing the four of them a high traffic platform (Mormon Stories) to discuss Mormon women’s issues is a great example of showing support to women’s issues. Katie and Abby pointed out the recently released 50 Years of Exponent II to viewers that if they want to learn more about women’s experiences in the church, there is a whole anthology of them in that book from the last fifty years. Where a controversial podcast like Mormon Stories might not reach certain people, a history book about Mormon women might. 

Abby Maxwell Hansen, Exponent II blogger on Mormon StoriesKatie Ludlow Rich, Exponent II blogger and co-author of 50 Years of Exponent II on Mormon Stories

While I am grateful that platforms such as Mormon Stories and Mormon Discussions hosted these super star panels, I sincerely hope that faithful LDS platforms are also talking about women’s issues within the church. Members of the church are less likely to watch or listen to discussions on these podcasts than they are to Faith Matters, for example. Have any of you seen any platforms where women’s issues are centered that we should know about? Share in the comments! 

Sovereign God and Sovereign Prophets: Mormonism’s Theologically Unwarranted Stumbling Blocks

A few months ago in Sunday school, people were making comments about how God works in their lives. Each person wanted something, such as a better job or life situation. They suggested God is withholding these things until they become obedient enough to earn them, and also sends painful experiences to motivate them to be more righteous. If they can just become more obedient, they will finally rid themselves of life’s unpleasant things and obtain what they want.

In my mind, when this kind of approach is used, a sovereign god is at play. A god who can pull unlimited strings. A god who demands obedience, and who is not really okay with us if we don’t do things his way. A god who trains us to become good through unending rewards and punishments. 

While I sympathize with people at Church wanting better situations, I’m not okay with this characterization of God. You might argue sovereign god is fine because he is committed to what is righteous, but treating God’s power and will as limitless and supreme is problematic in and of itself. This kind of god tends to becomes an all-encompassing, totalitarian force that explains everything in the universe, providing easy answers to life’s big questions. Religious paths veer toward subservience rather than a genuine quest for what is good, meaningful, or creative as our own agents. Deep thinking and questioning tend to become superfluous or dangerous.

When god’s preferences reign supreme, despite all our lip service about divine love, he actually isn’t loving or mature enough to tolerate mistakes, make space for doubt or differentiation, or respect human diversity. The bottom line is conformity and submission. In her recent mockumentary Cunk on Life (Netflix), comedian Diane Morgan (whose jokes run on faking ignorance while stumbling on genuine insights) argues, “I’ll be honest with you, this relationship with God throws up a lot of red flags. He’s watching us all the time, he sets rules, he’s got a terrible temper, even thinks he’s God. Isn’t he basically just a toxic narcissist?” When you reduce it down, a sovereign god might as well be a supremely powerful autocrat or a big, tyrannical boss baby.

In Sunday school, I raised my hand and explained my concerns: “In LDS discourse, we don’t actually have reason to assert God is omnipotent or micro-managing of our lives. Other spirits are co-eternal with God. God is more like a peer who is further along than us. We don’t know much about what God can do or chooses to do, or the limits of what God knows. LDS scripture even suggests They have physical bodies located in a specific place. And if we say God inflicts suffering on us, wouldn’t that mean God does evil?”

I heard unpleasant whispers behind me. Most people in my ward didn’t grow up in the Church. They are more versed in basic, old-fashioned mainline Christian metaphysical dogmas, assumptions that God is all-powerful, all-knowing, and present everywhere. They aren’t well-versed in LDS scripture, or how our theology is pretty different and fairly minimal (see “Why a Mormon Won’t Drink Coffee but Might Have a Coke: The Atheological Character of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints”).

Many religions have promoted a sovereign god. When you believe in hell and paradise and an omniscient, omnipotent being that is the origin of all things, it is hard for God not to have a whole lot of control over what happens to everything. People tend to slip into Calvinistic-type thinking in which God ultimately determines who wins and loses even when they don’t really want this.

One of the biggest problems with a sovereign god is that in such a universe we’re not really free. We live under the inescapable weight of “submit to my will or be damned.” Under such pressure, we obsess over appeasing God’s expectations rather than exploring life as the capable, curious agents we could be.

Despite us having a distinct theological backbone, much of our everyday Latter-day Saint thinking and practice uses a sovereign god framework. Members who grew up in the Church might talk even more than the converts in my ward about a god who disciplines, and general authorities emphasize strict obedience to God and church leaders, promising blessings in return.

Latter-day Saints have not only bought into a sovereign god but also a sovereign prophet. Why have we done this?

It’s a problem because subservience (that is, willingness to obey others unquestioningly) to prophets isn’t actually scriptural. The heroes of the Old Testament question everyone, including God. Joseph Smith wrote pushy verses in the D&C, but the Bible and Book of Mormon don’t teach strict adherence to high priests or a given voice besides Jesus. Moses had a special leadership role, but that situation was hardly ideal or something we should replicate for the rest of time.

In some cases, we have reinterpreted prophecies about Jesus Christ to be about our flawed LDS leaders, such as when we’ve applied Acts 3:22 to Joseph Smith: “For Moses truly said unto the fathers, A prophet shall the Lord your God raise up unto you of your brethren, like unto me; him shall ye hear in all things whatsoever he shall say unto you.” This is about Jesus (Peter says this directly). I would argue that even when the angel Moroni quoted this to Joseph Smith in 1823, it was still about Jesus, as most of the prophecies he quoted are. Joseph was a helper needed to go dig up and translate gold plates, not anointed as church dictator.

From where I sit, prophetic sovereignty is an unwarranted tradition started when Joseph demanded obedience and loyalty in the 1830s. As I’ve written elsewhere, he made an idol out of dud inspiration to take many wives. He projected cruel, morally dissonant demands onto God. His tragic, disruptive death, which resulted partly from his poor choices, made early Mormons vulnerable to continue in unhealthy, co-dependent leader-member relationships as they struggled to survive and stay together. The people who followed Brigham Young to Utah were the ones who tolerated being bossed around by a theocrat.

Today, Church administration acts like a sovereign whose authority is unchecked. Don’t like how the institution manages tithing dollars? There is no recourse available, and if you stop paying, we’ll remove temple privileges. Your children are suffering due to Church policies? We offer no process of appeal or remedy; adhere to leaders’ decisions if you want to be in God’s good graces.

General authorities act like Church rulers, honing low tolerance for members’ doubts, lack of total loyalty, and desires to make decisions with the institution. They are like a narcissistic god’s boss baby minions. They might wear business suits and appear to be reasonable grown-ups on the outside, but don’t expect mature behavior. When adults are around who attempt to hold the Church accountable, they act like babies. They seem to think this is righteous behavior or a way to emulate Jesus simply because it is what has been done by their predecessors. Saying this, I don’t mean to attack them or their maturity as individual people. I mean to criticize a system that we treat as untouchably sacred, but which is broken and corrupted.

Over-inflated prophetic importance is the Achilles’ heel of Mormonism. It continues today as our great vice, idol, pitfall, and needless, tragic error. It is the underlying reason why we’re bleeding members and why so many are deeply dissatisfied with their Church experience. Our deference to prophets and a high-demand god has prevented the restoration from delivering us from bad theology, fear, and misery the way it could if our leaders created a healthier and more righteous legacy.

Things shouldn’t be like this in the restored church. Subservience is unwarranted in light of our theology. Our tradition opens the possibility of true freedom for spiritual growth and flourishing. We don’t believe in a god who has unlimited power or knowledge. The universe proves much more open and mysterious. As James E. Faulconer has written, unlike in traditional theologizing, in our framework, there is no single entity (God) that explains or accounts for everything. Other beings, including ourselves, are co-eternal with multiple creators, indicating a more pluralistic, complex universe that is more open to possibilities (see Thinking Otherwise).

Having this framework, we need not treat God as ‘he who rules and must be appeased,’ let alone treat human priests this way. Jesus and our Heavenly Parents are not fundamentally different kinds of beings from us. They don’t lack any kindness toward us or understanding of where we are at. They do not determine our fates or micromanage our lives to manipulate us. Our relationship with God is more human to mentor, familial, or sororal/fraternal. The world is not unjust because they will it to be so. And a future of continual learning, connection, fulfillment and joy is open to our view rather than a fraught salvation/ damnation binary.

We may not have control over our situations through obedience, but we do have real capacities to choose and to grow. The good news about letting go of sovereign god is that we can better claim our freedom to learn and explore without being coerced or compelled.

Some leaders and members probably like ways sovereign god and church offer them a security blanket. The unacknowledged intent is avoiding growing up or taking responsibility for our moral and spiritual lives. But embracing these steps is exactly what we need to do to progress.

Virtue ethics is a more suitable framework for motivation than divine discipline. In this approach, we seek to act virtuously because this is desirable and right in and of itself, not to avoid punishment or get rewards. Instead of a coercer, God serves as a guide and supporter in our growth. We focus on the big picture of what kind of person (or community) we are to become rather than getting lost in the details. This is a healthier, more respectful and peaceful situation than prods poking us in the behind and carrot-like blessings being held in front of our faces for people of all ages.

I’m no longer interested in worshipping a god who demands my submission. I reject a god and religious leaders who are more insecure and immature, and less understanding or loving toward humans than I am seeking to become myself. I disapprove of a God and of faith leaders who retain virtually all the real power for themselves, wasting countless gifts, talents, desires, and insights we could otherwise contribute to creating a better Church and world.

I seek the true God of the restoration, who is often concealed by masks of hierarchical authority, mandates to conform, and fear tactics at church. I seek the God of “having all things in common,” or the joy and unity of equality and shared resources (4 Nephi 1:2–3), rather than top-down control or secretive tithing management. I seek the God who instructed that “all things must be done in order, and by common consent in the church” (D&C 28:13) rather than one who subjects me to ever-shifting emphases I have no say in. I seek the God who is truly good, who “doeth that which is good among the children of men,” who “inviteth them all to come unto him and partake of his goodness” (2 Nephi 26:33). May we each receive strength and support from God, who truly honors our agency and autonomy and rejoices in our life-long growth and accumulation of light.

God help us turn away from making LDS high priests rulers, and from allowing them to rule the Church. May God provide some way for our broken, struggling system to undergo the reforms it disparately needs. Will it take publicly dissenting apostles? A gutsy first president who manages to stay edgy into his 90’s? Members’ protests and refusal to conform, obey, pay tithing, attend temples? May God show us the way.

Credits: I’d like to thank my brother Clayton, a history teacher, new dad, and religious philosophy enthusiast, for the conversation that inspired this post.

The feature image is a crop from the original “Boss Baby” theatrical poster.

Guest Post: Questions from an Agnostic Mormon

by Lydia

I am an agnostic Mormon. I don’t believe Joseph Smith was a prophet, I don’t believe in the Book of Mormon. While I hope beyond hope to be with my family forever, I’m skeptical. I’m not even sure if Jesus was a real person, let alone if God exists. But I also go to church every Sunday and try my best to participate in one way or another. For some reason I can’t let go of the church. I keep asking myself “How can I have such a personal religious deficit and still attend a religious institution?”

I was among the many who began to question their faith during the COVID days. The birth of our first child, depression, and the Internet spurred me and my husband on. Our faith fell apart. We ended up making a big move to a different state and tried unsuccessfully to repair our belief in the church. Still, even when my husband stopped attending, I kept showing up and saying yes. It felt like I couldn’t help myself. I kept seeking community in the church, partly because I didn’t know how to find community anywhere else. Moving away from our old ward and the watchful eyes of family members should have made it easier for me to leave, but it didn’t. I was a young mom in a city I hardly knew existed before we moved there. Attending church became an act of survival. Who would be my friends if not the sisters in Zion? I was willing to contradict myself if it meant I wasn’t so alone.

The discomfort of staying active in the church forced me to start deconstructing how being Mormon had impacted my identity. As a part of reworking my foundational beliefs, I wanted to test out the feminism I saw in Tiktok videos and Reddit posts. One video cemented my resolve; a mother was discussing how her divorce had left her vulnerable emotionally and penniless financially, with no skills or experience to put on a resume after years dedicated to motherhood. I had just had my second baby and felt the weight of motherhood stronger than ever. I realized while I gave day after day to my husband and children, I had never invested in myself. So I applied to the local university and made up my mind that by the time my new baby was ready for school I would be ready to begin working a “big girl job”.

Feminism is like a little seed: If planted it will grow. Reviving my education journey has been everything to me. Suddenly I could see that I had branded myself as the sacrificial lamb of our family- as if giving up myself would equate to fulfillment in the lives of the rest of the family. Don’t get me wrong, I love being a mother, and school has been difficult in its own unique ways. Childcare is an obstacle, as is balancing schoolwork while dealing with the toddler tornados that are my children. But I wake up everyday knowing that I have a vehicle to find my own fulfillment in life. I wonder why I thought motherhood was the straight and narrow path to true happiness. Of the priceless gifts education has given me, one particularly precious is uncovering the history of Mormon women. These forgotten matriarchs made me feel less like a crazy radical and a link in a generational change of female empowerment. I’m working everyday to knit together my intelligence, professional dreams, and motherhood into the beautiful tapestry I know it is. While I’m still figuring out my religious identity, I now confidently call myself a feminist.

Nothing worth working towards is without its drawbacks, though. Transitioning into an unbelieving Mormon has left me lonely in ways I never expected. In the beginning of my faith transition I still felt Mormon, looked Mormon, sounded Mormon. Losing my belief in God didn’t erase my cultural identity, but embracing feminism began to break down my comfortability in church settings. After talking about my school and career plans, I had one sister in the ward warn me about the dangers of abandoning family life. Her comments, while not intended as malicious, remain cemented in my mind. When I walk into the church on Sunday, or join with the playgroup put together by the moms in the ward, I feel like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Would they want me to join them if they knew I don’t believe in God and think the priesthood is a power structure created for the benefit of men? Do I make them feel uncomfortable? Do they all see me as a ward project?

I can’t reach into the minds of these sisters, so I’m working on my own instead. I’m “rematriating my worldview” (see A Clan Mother’s Call: Reconstructing Haudenosaunee Cultural Memory). I’ve started to recognize that my ward is full of matriarchs, with lifetimes worth of experience between them all. Despite myself, I still crave their company and perspective. While I don’t always agree with them, I’m a better woman and mother for knowing them. I wish I was brave enough to open up to them. I recently looked at some of the church’s new cartoons for D&C, and was delighted to see Susa Young Gates featured in one. I felt heartbroken (but not surprised) when I realized there was no mention of the work she did for women. When are they going to teach us that the church has matriarchs? I think of Emmeline B. Wells and Annie Clark Tanner and Sonia Johnson. Would it be inappropriate to bear my testimony on the empowerment I find in learning about Mormon women in all their complexity? Is my perspective of any value to my fellow Church goers?

I don’t know why I stay these days. On some level, it’s the social aspect. Even if I feel disingenuous, at least I’m not alone. On another level, it’s to keep up with appearances. I also find myself carrying around a sense of guilt, feeling that I’m a parasite. Am I simply taking what I need from the church without giving back my tithing or spirituality? Is Mormonism a scar I can’t stop picking at? Maybe it’s simply what is under my skin and in my blood. My ancestors became Mormon at great cost, some journeying across an ocean as they transitioned to a new faith themselves. Deep down, there’s an understanding that I am Mormon. I wonder how remaking myself as a post-Mormon compares to crossing the plains.

I know the place I exist in is probably a transitory phase. Maybe someday I’ll feel brave enough to label myself something new. But I also think there’s others who feel the same way. I spend Sundays trying to look around for clues and wonder what my ward members think about me. The thought of being discovered as a non-believer is scary and wonderful. For now I’m standing my ground. If our foremothers could be both polygamists and suffragists, why can’t I be a non-believing Mormon feminist? Is it really inevitable that I’ll be separated from the community that raised me? Will I be rejected for expressing the full range of my personal beliefs? I know I can’t change the culture, policies, and doctrine of the church, but still I linger at linger longers and serve in the church. All the while I tell myself that if I’m right in thinking I’m not alone, maybe the answer isn’t that I need to leave, but that I need to stay. I know there are no good answers to my questions, but I wonder about them anyway. Maybe there’s an agnostic Mormon in your sacrament meeting, too.

 

Lydia is a student studying social studies education. She loves nature walks, good books, and cuddles with her kids.

Photo by Leeloo the First on Pexels