Exponent II's Blog, page 41

Here We Go Again: What Sustainable Political Action Looks Like for Me

I’m not saying it was a picnic from 2020-2024, but 2025 has reminded me how viscerally painful it is to watch the rule of law be dismantled from the top down. Here we go again with the lurch of unsettling, sickening news, the feeling that there is no floor, there is no ceiling, there is no common sense, there is no safety. Perhaps it’s worse this time around because I’ve learned how to pay attention, to see how quickly and silently harm can come to the most marginalized and vulnerable folks. 

There’s a fair amount of privilege in my life – white, middle class, employed, educated, homeowner, citizen. Although I am affected and will be affected by this madness, it isn’t me that feels the pinch first. 

In 2016, I felt disconnected and stuck. My own life circumstances, with infants and toddlers, were fully consuming. It was bewildering to try to figure out how to contact my representatives and to feel like any of that made a difference. I cared about what was happening, but let action fall to the wayside as my life carried me along. 

If the second Trump administration is going to mean anything to me now, it’s that I’m 8 years older, wiser, and capable. I can take sustainable action.    

On the day we received the news about the election, I marked the event by updating my seed storage for my garden. If we’re headed into economic turmoil or depression territory, at least I can grow some beans.  

On the day of the inauguration, I addressed some gaps in our emergency gear that had needed to be dealt with anyhow. We now have a few flashlights, and better yet, a solar powered and hand crank one that can also charge a cell phone. Well, it’s something.  

Next week, I’m double checking our water storage, such as it is. I honestly have no idea where my husband stored those jugs in the basement. 

All of these small actions don’t amount to much, but they bring me a small sense of control, of preparedness. If you are prepared, you won’t fear, right? Nope, I’m still plenty afraid, but I do know that survival is community, not a bunker.  

So I talk to my friends and my neighbors. We hug, we share, we connect, we commiserate. We pay attention to local politics. We sometimes fantasize what it would be like to take advantage of all those ex-pat offers in Europe. Maybe my best possible life is sheep farming on the Aran Islands? 

But then I need to go to work, or take the kids to karate and dance, or I’ve got a blog post to write and the deadline is getting frighteningly close. 

With that reality, I resurrected my old pal 5Calls on my phone. I’ve registered a few comments on local bills in my state legislature. I’ve made a few phone calls and left a few messages. A few minutes a day, a comment here, a call there, fit into my life.

I used to find it difficult to make these calls and send these messages. It was frustrating to feel I was throwing my time and effort into the void, without tangible return on investment. I didn’t know who to call or what to say. Now I know that every small action does make a difference. I don’t necessarily have to stress about saying the “right” thing. All I have to do is let my representatives know I care and I am watching and that I have a preference for or against the proposed bill or issue. If I have a specific personal experience with the issue, I share that too.

So what I do does matter, but I also have let go of the idea of ever seeing a return on the investment. Probably, most of the time, things won’t get better, but every once in a while, they will.

A state bill that would have further limited reproductive care in my state died in committee because thousands registered their stance against.

Against this one happy moment in the last two weeks, I have witnessed the anguished howl that seems to rise up from the ground itself, at outrage after outrage. Sometimes it is simply enough to see and name what we observe around ourselves. To simply say, this is happening.  

For me, the rule of law is crumbling. The president and his cabal are attempting to turn our nation into a Christian nationalist/technopoly/oligarchy something mess that will not serve the people or protect our freedoms. They are attempting to impose a world view that is limited and harmful and they don’t care what they break in the process. This is happening. 

And what can I do about it? 

Jess Piper, a popular activist also known as the Dirt Road Democrat, gave me what have become my marching orders for the duration, in a post on her Substack:  

“I know my power is limited at the federal level, but I can help stop awful federal mandates by gathering groups and opposing my state lawmakers implementing those awful mandates. 

This is our power. It’s local. Focus there. Pay attention everywhere, but fight at the local level. 

We still have power. 

Take care of the livestock and post in your social groups about the rise of a paramilitary group beholden to Trump. Order your garden seeds and keep a record of Nazi and fascist players in the government. Play with the grandkids and write a letter to the editor. Make supper and make a phone call to your Representative. 

Don’t look away and don’t give any official even one inch. 

Hold their feet to the fire while you handle your responsibilities.” 

 In light of the Ezell memo and an executive order by the current President of the United States sent on January 20th and the executive order of January 28th, and the many reports of harassment and harm that have become our new normal, the only way forward to me is to hold tightly to my people. Witness the atrocity, the anguish, the wrong, and be there for who I can, when I can. What we do in our local spheres of influence will make a difference.

Photo by Niklas Hamann on Unsplash

It Is Not Good that Humans Should Be Alone

In the beginning, God created the world and declared it good. The only thing that was declared to be not good was Adam’s aloneness. To alleviate Adam’s solitary state, God created Eve, and from then on, society declared coupledom to be compulsory and singleness to be pitiable or deviant.

I think that view is a misreading of the story. It wasn’t Adam’s lack of a spouse that was a problem. It was his lack of connection with another human. As a society, we assume that anyone who lacks a partner must, as a matter of course, be deeply lonely. This assumption dials itself up to 11 for the month of February, when a secular celebration of romantic love permeates the culture. However, there are many ways of being in community and many other kinds of love.

There’s the love between parent and child. I have parents, and some day, God-willing, I will have a child even if I don’t get a husband. I love my parents and they love me. I will fiercely love my child when he or she arrives. Even though my parents and I live hundreds of miles apart, we are a part of each other’s lives. I have a sibling, and we likewise share love and are a part of each other’s lives.

There’s the love between friends – our chosen family. Last night, one of my friends texted me out of the blue and invited me over to make dinner. We made soup, played with the dog, and watched a movie, all while chatting and getting caught up. The social connection filled my soul. I meet friends for movie nights, trivia nights, hikes, and dinner. I’ve also sat with them in the emergency room and in court. We’ve helped each other through hard times and celebrated the good times. I never lack for companionship when they’re around.

There’s the love between ward members. We refer to our wards as a “ward family”, and at their best, that’s what they can be. I had surgery a few months ago, and I needed someone to give me a ride home because I couldn’t drive after the anesthesia. A ward member got up at 5 AM to take me, and she made dinner for me so I wouldn’t have to figure out how to feed myself for a few days. I’ve taken casseroles to families who are welcoming a new baby or saying goodbye to someone.

Even going beyond the close relationships, we can experience connection with acquaintances. When I was in school, I frequented a bagel shop near my work. The clerk got to know my regular order, and when I returned after being gone for a few weeks, she mentioned that she had missed me and was glad I was okay. I know about the important events in the lives of my colleagues.

I imagine it’s easier to experience social consistent social connection when you share space with someone who has promised to stand by your side forever. But the extra effort it takes to nurture relationships outside of romance is well worth it. God is love, so maintaining loving friendships is a way to draw nearer to God.

The celestial room of the temple is described as being a taste of heaven. In the celestial room, we are surrounded by many different people with whom we have a variety of types of relationships. We are not alone. As much as I would welcome a spouse, I have a full and happy life, with many loved ones. I am not alone, and it is good.

Is it a beautiful revelation? Or spiritual abuse?

Is Doctrine and Covenants 25 a beautiful revelation from God for a woman struggling after the loss of her baby? Or is it an example of spiritual abuse from a spouse? Or is it a little bit of both? These are the questions swirling in my mind today.

In October 2024 General Conference, Emily Belle Freeman gave a talk where she explains how reading this scriptural passage changed her life. She describes imagining Emma Smith, a 26 year old worried about finances and her husband’s persecution and the loss of their first baby, trying to feel God’s love. She imagines that the revelation that came through the prophet to Emma (what is now Doctrine and Covenants 25) likely brought comfort to her during this hard time. Emily Belle Freeman describes it this way:

First, the Lord reminded Emma of her place in His plan, including who she was and whose she was—a daughter in His kingdom. She was invited to “walk in the paths of virtue,” a path that included ordinances that would unlock God’s power if Emma held on to her covenants.

Second, in her season of deep mourning, the Lord gave her purpose. Emma didn’t just have a front-row seat to the Restoration; she was an essential participant in the work taking place. She would be set apart “to expound scriptures, and to exhort the church.” Her time would “be given to writing, and to learning much.” Emma was given a sacred role to help prepare the Saints to worship; their songs unto the Lord would be received as prayers and “answered with a blessing upon their heads.”

Last, the Lord outlined a process of inward sanctification that would prepare Emma for exaltation. “Except thou do this,” the Lord explained to her, “where I am you cannot come.”

But when I opened up the passage in the Doctrine and Covenants and read the words myself, I didn’t have the same glowing feeling that Emily Belle Freeman clearly had. Instead, I worried. I imagined myself mourning and then having my husband receive guidance from God on my behalf. It just feels like it would be so sad to not receive my own personal revelation. Complicating that more is that some of the revelation that came in those verses sound like a husband’s way of making his wife obey. Here are the passages that were hardest for me to read and my thoughts to go along with them: 

Verse 3: Behold, thy sins are forgiven thee, and thou art an elect lady, whom I have called. I wonder why it had to come out of her husband’s mouth that her sins were forgiven. Isn’t that between her and God and only mediated through Christ?

Verse 4: Murmur not because of the things which thou hast not seen, for they are withheld from thee and from the world, which is wisdom in me in a time to come. This feels like a husband and wife have been in disagreement on an issue for a while and the husband now says, “God said you need to stop complaining.” But if that’s the case, why couldn’t God tell Emma that directly? Why did God have to go through the husband that the disagreement was with?

Verse 5: And the office of thy calling shall be for a comfort unto my servant, Joseph Smith, Jun., thy husband, in his afflictions, with consoling words, in the spirit of meekness. Though Emily Belle Freeman noted that it would have provided great comfort to Emma to be given a special assignment that was just for her, I wonder if it might have felt awkward to be told to do something for the sake of comforting your husband (while noting the need for meekness). This is especially complicated by the fact that it’s coming through that husband.

Verse 14: Continue in the spirit of meekness, and beware of pride. Let thy soul delight in thy husband, and the glory which shall come upon him. If I had a friend who came to me and said, “I’ve been struggling in my marriage, but I recently felt God telling me to let myself find more delight in my marriage,” I’d support that friend. But if I had a friend who came to me and said, “I’ve been struggling in my marriage, but my husband says God needs me to delight in my husband, so I guess I’m going to do that,” I’d worry about the safety of my friend. 

I guess if Emma truly believed that every word of Doctrine and Covenants 25 came directly from God, then I bet she agreed with Emily Belle Freeman’s take on it – this is a beautiful revelation. But if Emma was uncertain, this revelation may have been hard to hear. It may have felt manipulative and exploitative.

And I guess that’s the question for me too: Do I believe that every word of that revelation was from God? If I do, I can get behind Emily Belle Freeman’s talk. But if I think there might have been any interpretation from Joseph Smith while he was receiving the revelation, then it suddenly becomes a problematic scripture passage.

What do you think? Is Doctrine and Covenants 25:
A) A beautiful revelation from God for a woman struggling after the loss of her baby?
B) An example of spiritual abuse from a spouse? 
C) A little bit of both?

What is Church Like When Your Bishop is a Woman?

(Main image: This is me with Bishop Phyllis Speigel of the Episcopal Diocese of Utah . I’ve blogged about her before and I finally got to meet her this week! She has the same calling in Utah that Bishop Mariann Budde has in Washington DC, whose inaugural sermon Candice Wendt blogged about recently as an inspiration for Mormon feminists. (By the way – bishops in the Episcopal church are significantly higher in rank, responsibility and education than a bishop in an LDS ward – hence being invited to do things like participate in presidential inaugurations.)

When LDS people say it doesn’t bother them that women aren’t ordained, I know there’s a 99% chance they’ve never even attended a church that ordains women. Visiting other churches where women and girls are equal changed me forever. I can never go back.

During the Ordain Women movement of 2013/2014, the response from members of the LDS church was incredibly negative. The idea was so absurd that many of them actually found it offensive. Only men and boys could have the priesthood, they said. A woman couldn’t be a bishop. That would be like saying men could get pregnant and breastfeed babies!

At the time, I visited St. Mary’s Episcopal Church in Provo – a church that’s been ordaining women since before I was born. It’s held a special place in my heart ever since.

There I spoke to women who explained attending an LDS baptism and how shocked they were to see all of the women on the sidelines while the men ran the entire show. Their biggest shock was when men who barely knew the child were invited to join the blessing circle while the mother herself was excluded.

They said it felt like stepping back in time. Upon explaining the experience to another member of their church, that woman slapped her hand on the table and asked incredulously, “And Mormon women just put up with all of that?!”

Additionally, one week per month at St Mary’s the children participated in giving the sacrament to the congregation. A mother of two girls said it was their favorite week and they both couldn’t wait until they were old enough to do it. She told me she couldn’t imagine telling her girls, “Oh, I’m sorry – only the boys get to do that.” She asked if the girls at my church complained a lot about being left out. 

I told her honestly that (at least for me) it had never occurred to me to be jealous because I’d associated passing the sacrament so much with maleness that my brain had never even considered it an option.

Being around Episcopalian women always makes my identity as a Mormon feminist feel so much less radical. Instead of being seen as a power hungry maniac, I’m just an admirable champion of basic women’s rights. 

(That’s me in the middle of Mother Dani Lee (the priest at St. Mary’s) and Bishop Speigel!)

The pictures in this post are all from a screening this week of the new documentary “The Philadelphia Eleven“, about the first eleven women ordained into the Episcopal Church in the 1970s. 

The film caught up with some of these now older women (this happened 50 years ago, the same year AND month Exponent II was formed – July 1974!) and told their story through both archived and new footage.

The women were hilarious and brave, and the men back then who vehemently opposed ordaining women (“They’re taking our authority from us!” they insisted, sounding a bit like angry children) made the film laugh out loud funny at times.

Here are some of my favorite lines from the film (which won’t be totally accurate, but as close as I can get from my memory):

About needing extra security at the church the day the women were ordained: “We had a bunch of Black Panthers and lesbians come give us extra protection!”

Describing being ordained despite so much anger and pushback: “I knew what we were doing was unequivocally right. It was dangerous, but the right thing to do.’

One woman watching herself on a show from the 70s with a particularly rude male priest said: “We had to learn how to have these conversations, you know… without socking people…”

Another female priest: “We were called man-hating dykes. Sister X was the first of us, when called a lesbian in public, to say, “Thank you!”, because she was in fact gay. Instead of “Oh, I’m straight, but I support my gay sisters”. No – just “thank you!” They didn’t know how to respond to that.”

Barbara Harris, the first female bishop, after being told she’d been voted as bishop: “I said, ‘I humbly accept’. And then I thought to myself, Oh crap! That’s not what you’re supposed to say. You’re supposed to say I’ll pray about it and get back to you.”

After the women were ordained by willing male bishops, people were enraged. One woman priest said, “It was as if we’d pricked an abscess, and now all of the pus and poison was running out freely.” 

The church put the male bishops who had ordained the female priests on trial, but not the women – because that would have recognized their ordinations as valid. One woman said, “It’s not the bishop on trial right now, it’s the sexism of the church that’s on trial!” She concluded it was all male ego.

As they reunited at the funeral for one of the women who’d passed away during filming, one said to another: “I was hoping you’d come in the purple high tops you used to wear under your robes.” In response: “They don’t fit anymore. I have bunions now.”

And finally, I want to share a quote from a man attending the screening in the audience. He was formerly LDS, and (if I heard correctly), had served as both a bishop and a stake president. 

He said, “I didn’t know what I was missing until I had female clergy in my life.”

I AGREE.

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To any local Utah people who’d enjoy a field trip to a Sunday service led by the phenomenal Dani Lee, check it out at: https://stmarysprovo.org/

They have two service times (9 am and 11 am), and Easter would be a really fun time to visit! Hang out afterwards to meet the women during their fellowship hour, then join my St. Mary’s Fan Club because you’ll know personally how amazing it is to see ordained women in action.

Guest Post: How “Suffs” Songs Remind Me of Mormon Feminism

by MM

Suffs is a musical by Shaina Taub that just closed on Broadway. Beelee recently wrote a fantastic blog post about the history behind the show. I was similarly inspired by the musical and its many moments that echo recent Mormon feminist history and culture. 

Come with me on a listen-through of moments in the show that remind me of those events. I’ve linked to the Spotify recordings, so you can listen along (though you can easily find it on Apple Music or your preferred streaming service). 

“Let Mother Vote” 

As the show opens, Carrie Chapman Catt gives this speech encouraging men to “let Mother vote.” She talks about how women have already contributed so much to the country through the men to whom they have given birth. She believes a “kind” approach is the best way to handle the men. 

As I listen to this, I can’t help but think of J. Annette Dennis’ recent (infamous) talk “Accessing God’s Power Through Covenants.” The talk in itself could have been seen as monumental. She talked about Latter-Day Saint women having power and authority from God. This is something most Latter-Day Saints struggle to acknowledge. But, she also suggested that women may not need any more power, authority, or representation when she said, “There is no other religious organization in the world, that I know of, that has so broadly given power and authority to women.” This was met with significant pushback.

To me, the current Relief Society Presidency does fight for change for women, just slowly and kindly, with a smile, and it’s simply not enough for many women. Recent Relief Society presidencies have talked about divorce, infertility, working women, and abuse, all deep, important topics. The key is: are they saying it so sweetly (and so infrequently, given how little of a platform they are given), that the general Church population is not listening? 

“Ladies”

This is possibly my favorite number in the musical and my comfort song while driving home from a particularly patriarchy-ridden Sabbath service. Grace MacLean leans in perfectly to the villainy of benevolent sexism.

To most women outside of the Church, this song is purely humorous. Surely no one today would still say that women are too fragile to handle responsibility like voting, right? 

Well, here are a few comments I have seen in the last month regarding Heavenly Mother (a literal goddess). 

“Imagine having a spouse, and knowing that if because of your public identity, you will be slandered and berated and any awful thing that can be said about you will be said… Imagine how you’d feel knowing the same could be done to your spouse because of their relationship to you.” 

“I don’t want my heavenly mother getting mocked, hypersexualized, or blasphemed for the sake of being more known, but that’s just me lol. I believe God doesn’t bring her up more in order to preserve her sanctity.” 

This sure reminds me of President Wilson’s insistence that “ladies must be protected” from the “dangers” of politics and the right to vote. In fact, the insistence that women get everything they need through the power of their husband’s vote echoes many of the comments I have heard about how women have plenty of influence in the Church based on their ability to convince their husbands of things. (Heck, it was not that long ago that Mission President’s wives were not included as “Mission Presidents,” despite their full service and call). 

Here’s my re-write of the end of this song: 

If priesthood pollutes our ladies’ lives, I’m scared to say.

We’ll sacrifice virility and compromise fertility and threaten the stability of the family.

So ladies must be commanded, they require a man to manage their affairs.

We must keep them safe at home, afar from evil, far from greed.

We must keep them in our arms where their freedom’s guaranteed.

So why would ladies’ need the priesthood? 

We provide all that they need! 

“A Meeting With President Wilson”

At the beginning of the next number, President Wilson insists that (despite singing an entire song about how women do not need the right to vote), “this is the first [he’s] hearing of this.” 

This is quite reminiscent of President Gordon B. Hinckley’s interview with Larry King. In answer to the question of women’s ordination, President Hinckley said, “Well, they don’t hold the priesthood at the present time. It would take another revelation to bring that about. I don’t anticipate it. The women of the church are not complaining about it. They have their own organization, a very strong organization, 4 million plus members. I don’t know of another women’s organization in the world which does so much for women as does that, as this church has. They’re happy. They sit on boards and governance in the church. I don’t hear any complaints about it.” 

“Worth It”

This song speaks to me so personally (and probably many women). I admit that it took about 50 listens before I could make it to the end without bursting into sobs, because I feel that this song so richly encapsulates the female experience. 

When all of the other members of the ensemble ask “is it worth it?” at the end, you can picture each woman weighing the decision to have children so heavily. No matter what Alice Paul or any other woman chooses, the decision can be excruciating. Is it worth it to work? Is it worth it to have children? Is it worth it to make any sacrifice to make either of those things work? How can you bring children into a world (and a Church) where they will face heartbreak and discrimination for things they cannot control? 

As I listen to this song, I am drawn to the story of current Relief Society President Camille N. Johnson. President Johnson worked as a lawyer while raising her children, and she talks about that regularly as she encourages women to put God first in their lives. This caused quite a stir recently, as many women were able to do the math and realize that President Johnson was running a law practice while the prophet of the time was saying things like:

“Wives, come home from the typewriter, the laundry, the nursing, come home from the factory, the café. No career approaches in importance that of wife, homemaker, mother—cooking meals, washing dishes, making beds for one’s precious husband and children.”

“This Girl”

This may be a bit of a stretch, but sometimes I see President Camille N. Johnson as a Carrie Chapman Catt. She clearly does believe that women are capable of more than just stay at home motherhood, if they choose it. She talks about it, and made that choice when the prophet counseled against it. Yet, now, she “plays nice” and recommends following all of the advice the prophet gives. 

To me, this can feel like Carrie Chapman Catt insisting that staying nice is the way to make your voice heard and effect change. And, in truth, as you’ll see in the show, both are needed. Carrie Chapman Catt could not do it without Alice Paul, but Alice Paul needed Carrie Chapman Catt too. 

In moments like when thousands of women pushed back on President Johnson’s talk about her motherhood and work, I can imagine time stopping for her and her filling with a bit of rage at “[These] Girls” who do not see how much she has done and is still trying to do for them. 

“Wait My Turn”

This song is amazing and powerful. Alice Paul has been the hero of the show. She’s plucky and inspiring! But when she suggests that Ida B. Wells march in the back and “wait her turn” to fight for equal rights for black Americans, Wells does not hesitate to point out how deeply flawed that opinion is. 

Yet, as Kate Mower (@LatterdayLez) has pointed out, many Latter-Day Saint feminists fail to include their queer and BIPOC siblings in their fight for equality. Discussions about Heavenly Mother still often enforce gender roles and heteronormative expectations. Mower wrote, “If our feminism looks like trying to claim as much power as cishet white men… we are doing it wrong!” 

Additionally, Mower said, “Our devotion to Heavenly Mother is a cishet white supremacist problem. There’s no other way to slice it. And the fact that many Mormon feminists don’t even know why that is is exhausting to try and explain repeatedly. We need to be more creative and less transphobic in our recreation of divinity.” 

When I read those quotes, I stopped in my tracks. I realized that I had been part of the problem. In my desperation to have Heavenly Mother just acknowledged more, was I essentially asking my queer siblings to wait their turn? 

I still think we should talk more about Heavenly Mother more, but I now work much harder to educate myself on the struggles of my queer siblings and I encourage all of us to involve them and their needs in our fights for equity.

Nicole Sbitani recently published a blogpost for Exponent II calling on the Exponent II community to do more to take up DEI efforts. If you have not read it, check it out here. 

As we continue to fight for equity in the Church, let’s make sure we are fighting for equity for all of God’s children. 

“How Long”

SPOILER FOR THE SHOW IN THIS ONE

This song is devastating. It comes in the show when Inez Milholland dies while giving a speech urging people to fight for suffrage. She collapses while begging the question, “How long must women wait for liberty?” (This follows a struggle with anemia and infertility that she had kept hidden- and of course, this makes “Worth It” even more heart-wrenching). At the funeral, the suffragists gather together to remember Inez and they continue to ask, “How Long?” 

This is how I felt when Kate Holbrook passed. It’s how I felt again when Melissa Inouye passed away. These women were so formative for me. They were accepted by large swaths of the church and had books published at Deseret Book. Kate Holbrook’s At The Pulpit made women’s voices more easily searchable in the Gospel Library App. They also openly spoke and wrote about feminist issues. I saw them as inspirations for how to make change, boldly! 

When they passed on, I did not know how things could still change. Without these women with powerful voices at Deseret Book and women’s conferences, would our progress take two steps back or stop entirely? 

Like the women in the show, I realized there are more voices, and I realized that I had to keep amplifying the things these women said, if I wanted to see change. 

“The Young Are At the Gates”

When people could be arrested for speaking out against the US involvement in WWI and the President at the time, these brave suffragists picketed at the White House. 

As I listen to “The Young Are At the Gates,” I think of the Ordain Women movement. I think of the women who asked to be admitted to the General Priesthood Session of Conference in October, 2013 and who continued to fight for admittance. 

I think of Kate Kelly’s excommunication and the women who have continued to stand “at the gates,” demanding equality for women in the Church. 

I am reminded of every woman who participates in micro-feminisms to make changes today. I think of the next generation of young women, in their classy, bright pantsuits, walking into the chapel, demanding change. 

“Respectfully Yours, Dudley Malone”

Dudley Malone met Doris Stevens and she essentially converted him to the cause of suffrage. He had a position in the government at the time and resigned publicly to voice his support for women. You can read about it here, if you are interested. 

Dudley Malone represents all of the male allies who stand with women. He has a lot to learn at the beginning, but he puts in the work and supports the cause of women, at a personal cost. 

This reminds me of a video Jana Spangler shared of a Bishop in Missouri who resigned and shared over the pulpit that he was stepping down, because he could not in good conscience continue with the calling. 

Dudley also reminds me of every man who reads Exponent II, every man who speaks up for women at church, every man who stands up for women in Instagram comments, and every man who “does the work.” 

“A Letter from Harry’s Mother”

Grab your tissues. The deciding vote in the final state ratifying the 19th amendment was cast by Harry Burn. He changed his initial vote after reading a note from his mother telling him to “be a good boy and vote for suffrage.” 

While this does not connect to a specific moment in recent Church history in my mind, it does make me think of the work women are doing everyday with their children. Every teacher who says, “I don’t know” or “What do you think?” when asked why girls can’t pass the sacrament is planting seeds for future generations to make the change. 

Personally, I think of my grandmother, who worked on a farm and fought everyday for her children. She believed women had a place, and she encouraged me to chase my dreams. I carry on her torch today. 

“Keep Marching”

This song is the final call in the show to keep showing up, keep fighting, and keep working for change. The women of the show reflect on their work and everything they accomplished while they plead for us to “keep marching.” 

They say:

“We did not end injustice and neither will you

but still, we made strides, so we know you can too

make peace with our incomplete power and use it for good

’cause there’s so much to do.”

As I read about Eliza R. Snow, Jane Nyman, Kate Kelly, Maxine Hanks, Eugene England, Lavina Fielding Anderson, and all of the other changemakers in and out of the church, I remember that they may not have done it perfectly and they may not have “finished the fight,” but they made strides and leaps and baby steps that got us where we are today. 

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I encourage you to listen to the rest of the show! Share in your comments what moments in the show remind you of Mormon feminism. Who are the “Suffs” in your ward or on your feed? 

And, I leave you with this call to keep fighting in a way that stays true to you: 

“The gains will feel small and the losses too large

Keep marching, keep marching.

You’ll rarely agree with whoever’s in charge.

Keep marching, keep marching.

‘Cause your ancestors are all the proof you need

That progress is possible, not guaranteed;

It will only be made if we keep marching on.” 

 

MM is an opera singer and voice teacher in the Pacific Northwest. When not singing, she enjoys reading, cooking, and hanging out with her husband and their pet turtle.

My God

By Danielle Kemp Nelson

Danielle is a Utah-based wedding photographer and lifelong member of the church, who is constantly finding ways to use her Sociology degree in the pursuit of elucidating the nuances of the communities she finds herself in, and finding creative ways to amplify the voices and stories of those who need to be heard. She is currently working on a book of poems exploring her relationship with the members of the Godhead (Heavenly Mother included;).

My God

Maybe I get to choose

The god I worship

Maybe I don’t have to accept

All the things I was told

Maybe my god gets to be kind,

And merciful,

Playful, and understanding.

Maybe my God wants me to explore,

to be curious,

To learn, and to grow.

Maybe my god isn’t so scary

But rather prefers to wrap me up

In great big arms of love

Maybe my god understood the journey

I needed to take –

Maybe my god wrote it in the stars

Maybe my god’s love and mercy is

Bigger

Than all the questions

Maybe my god exists

In a liminal space,

And laughs at the silliness

Of the black and white boxes, and lines that we create for Them

Maybe my god is good

Maybe my god is a god worth worshipping, after all

I’m Not Ready For This

By Alison

Alison lives in the Midwest with her husband and four children. She is an elementary school teacher, so naturally she loves a really good snow day so she can sleep in and watch TV with her baby girl.

Today my daughter is no longer in primary. My baby girl who still sometimes plays with her dolls and is clinging to a belief in Santa Claus is now considered a young woman in the eyes of the church.  I’m not ready for this.

She has three older brothers, so I’m familiar with navigating the youth program as a parent. And four years ago I was serving in YW, so I’m familiar with it from a leadership perspective, as well. But it feels so different with my own girl. I never felt this dread when her brothers left primary. Why do I feel it with her?

Yes, I’m sad that she is not able to participate in the church in the same way her brothers do. When my oldest was first 12, I didn’t think too much about his priesthood ordination, but as time went on I became increasingly frustrated that young boys held more power in the church than I ever would. And now those brand new deacons are my daughter’s peers and it hurts even more. But it’s more than that.

I know I’m projecting here. I know I’m remembering my experience and assuming that it will be hers as well. I did love my time in the church’s young women program. I loved my leaders and my friends and the activities and even the Sunday classes. But, in retrospect, I do not love what they taught me. And I’m afraid she will learn the same things.

I don’t want her to think that anything having to do with her body or her feelings is shameful. I don’t want her to hear that I am a bad person because I don’t believe all that the church teaches. I don’t want her to think her worth is directly aligned with being a wife and a mother. I know things have changed since I was a teenager in the 90s. But I also know that in many ways, they have not. I know that the current progressive YW presidency in our ward could be changed at any moment to a presidency that thinks having teenaged girls participate in a wedding dress fashion show is appropriate. I read the lessons and I know that they are not as troubling as they were in the past, but I know that she will still be told things that I don’t think are true. I know that she will be told that she is important and valued at church, but she will not see evidence of that within the walls of the church.

I do not want her to go to the temple. I do not want her to have a man ask her questions that may make her feel uncomfortable. I do not want her going to a place that I am not currently allowed to go to myself. But, hey, at least she can do things I could never do as a teenager, like serve as a witness, hand out towels, and do baptisms while she is on her period.

I hate that I’ve created a double standard. That I’m okay with my boys doing these things but not her. I can’t make it make sense. All I know is that I know what it’s like to be female in this church. It can break you. And I don’t want it to break her.

Photo by J W via Unsplash

What do I say when I’m asked “Are you LDS?” What is mine to claim?

A discussion of the complexity of the question “Are you LDS?” for one Exponent blogger exploring layers of identity

What is my identity and what is mine to claim? Can I claim being LDS as a layer in my identity? Is it accurate? These questions aren’t easy answers for me like they once were. When asked at church “Who are you?” I gave the memorized and instant reply “I’m a daughter of Heavenly Father who loves me and I love him.” This identity of divine worth as a child of God has been with me since my earliest memories because I was born into and raised in the faith. Primary teachings focus a lot on being a child of God and Young Womens’ focus was specifically on being a daughter of Heavenly Father (no, I never was taught about Heavenly Mother).

Growing up in the church, I often heard the story of Joseph F Smith being followed by a group of men who had nefarious intentions. The way I remember it, they pulled him off his horse and asked him menacingly if he was a Mormon. He replied “true blue through and through” with pride. This was the gold standard response, the one that was expected of me when asked. Even as a child I was taught lessons about the importance of being willing to die rather than deny my faith.

While living in Utah, a common question I was asked was “Are you Mormon?” That eventually changed to “Are you LDS?” but to me it’s the same question. One of the times I was asked this was when I had started a work from home job that worked perfectly with my kids’ school schedule. I had earned a dinner with the director and other high performers and was anxious and excited about the opportunity. The director shook my hand, asked where I lived, and when I told him he said “Oh! Are you LDS?” and I froze for a moment in panic. 

It turned out that he lived in the same Eagle Mountain neighborhood and wanted to know if we were in the same ward. The question surprised me (I mean hello HR?) but also it was the first time anyone had asked me that question since I had stopped attending church services due to realizing my beliefs weren’t compatible with the religion I was raised in. In a split second before answering the director of the company, my brain was processing “am I still LDS if I don’t believe? My pioneer ancestors sacrificed so much, am I dishonoring them by not claiming my heritage? Am I going to be affected by bias (intended or unconscious) if I say no? Does saying no wipe away the last 36 years of my life living as a Mormon?” 

Now that I live in Washington I don’t get asked this question and I don’t miss being asked. Because the truth is, it’s very complicated for me and I’ve been conditioned to believe that if I don’t proudly claim it, I’m not living up to the gold standard that was set and has been expected of me since my years as a child in primary. If I were to claim it, I’d feel like a religious imposter. If I respond “it’s complicated” it triggers questions I don’t want to answer. If I say “no, I’m ex-Mormon” peoples’ reactions are often weird or uncomfortable. For me, the question instantly raises complex and contradictory emotions of grief and pride, of loss and freedom. 

Generations of LDS ancestors helped form my cultural identity. When I meet other people who have spent significant time as a believing Mormon and no longer believe, I feel a kinship. They understand me on a level that people who haven’t spent decades in the church cannot and in a way that people who believe and haven’t suffered the emotional and even physical effects of leaving the church cannot. How can I possibly sum up the totality of my experiences of good and bad, of being uplifted and abused, of being devout and disaffected in my answer? 

I have often heard the phrase “people who leave the church cannot leave it alone” and the phrase has always, even as a devout member, given me the ick. I just don’t think it’s a fair assessment and to me it sounds dismissive and defensive. Maybe there are people who can spend their lives being devoutly LDS and then walk away and never talk about it, analyze it, try to figure out where the line of LDS identity ends or seek therapy after “leaving the church” but that hasn’t been my experience. I’ll admit there have been times in my life since I stopped believing that something terrible has happened and my mind instantly goes to “this wouldn’t have happened if you would have stayed in the church.” This is a common and unfair thought many people experience because this was a message we received our entire lives. It’s one of many messages that are unwelcome luggage in my faith and identity journey.

So far it’s been impossible to try to disentangle myself from Mormonism. Somehow when I removed over 50 LDS books from our home library my LDS identity didn’t get boxed up with them. Despite clearing my cedar chest of religious keepsakes I still find relics like copies of my patriarchal blessing or pass along cards among my things. When I donated my temple clothing to saints in need it didn’t erase my memory of my new name. When I sold all my Young Women Medallions to a sister who was recently called to serve in the program all the efforts I made to earn them weren’t forgotten. 

Getting to know new people has always been interesting but now living in a place where many of my core memories or chapters in my life (like a ridiculously short engagement) are not common/shared experiences I feel a bit awkward. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love it here but I’d be lying if I said I don’t sometimes feel like an alien around coworkers. I used the word “mete” the other day. Apparently that isn’t a word known outside of religion. Knowing the LDS language served me well in Utah. If you don’t think we have a language I challenge you to ponderize it. See what I did there? Now I’m wondering how to change my language patterns because I want to and I can’t figure it out.

I linger in this space that feels neither in between or past while I try to sort out the many layers of my identity and what is mine to claim.

Someday, I hope I’ll figure it all out. For anyone else who feels similarly, I hope you do too.

What do you say when asked “Are you LDS? The Exponent blog welcomes guest submissions. Learn more about our post guidelines and the submission form on our guest post submission page.

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Would You Like To Speak To The Man In Charge? Or The Woman Who Knows What’s Going On? A review of the movie Conclave.

Warning: This post contains many spoilers for the movie “Conclave”. 

I highly recommend seeing this movie. Even though it seems to be a fairly straightforward fictional depiction of the Catholic Conclave – the selection of a new Pope after the death of the last Pope, I found it a gripping human story, with universal archetypes. I acknowledge my severe lack of understanding concerning the rituals, protocol, details of process, and traditions of the Catholic Church. I beg understanding and patience from all who are deeply connected to the Catholic tradition if I unintentionally express anything that is not respectful. I found very poignant themes that spoke to my Mormon experience, my appreciation of the power of symbolic ritual, and learning through archetypes. I hope to speak to the impact this movie has on me in this way.

The lifelong journey out of the Garden toward wisdom and complexity is as long as life.

When we meet the main character of this story, Cardinal Lawrence is not at the beginning of the archetypal hero’s journey toward wisdom. He has already experienced a crisis of faith, and attempts to recreate new faith within the structure he has chosen to dedicate his life. He is grieving the loss of his great leader, the Pope who has helped him move forward through this journey, not accepting his resignation as Cardinal, and laying groundwork for him to be in a position to lead the Cardinals – the Curia through the process of selecting the next Pope. He told him “some are chosen to be shepherd and some to manage the farm.” We learn early that he had hoped to be serving in another part of the church, away from headquarters and politics of the church. He plans to do so after he honors the former Pope by completing this task.

Much of the cinematography shows the individual and collective characters that impact the story in minor or major ways, without audible dialogue, gathering in the Vatican location, walking through the background, talking together or sitting alone, dramatic music setting a powerful and intentional mood. All of the characters involved in the formal practice of ritual prayer, recited declarations, required meetings, acknowledgement of authority, dressing in layered vestments, sealing of chambers, following every motion of traditional protocol for this event, all are male. Even those in the highest station do not question or depart from the actions determined by tradition. When new levels of technology are required to ensure that the process is completely closed, it is incorporated at the same level of adherence. When massive iron gates cover doorways, and mechanized metal screens cover windows at every level, this is a closed and insulated chamber of men. 

Yet, for those who will have eyes to see, women move through the space in their own way. They do not have the dramatic soundtrack. They are not noticed or greeted by the men. They go about their business of preparing and serving meals, handling background tasks of housekeeping and organization. The literal nourishment provided is completely consumed, but not acknowledged by the men. 

Until something happens. 

An unexpected, unknown Cardinal arrives at the last minute. Cardinal Lawrence is willing to verify him, and accept that his former Pope would appoint someone in unusual ways, and invite him in. This is a “little did he know” moment for Cardinal Lawrence. Cardinal Benitez disrupts the almost automatic process, defying the ritual as he comes from serving in a war torn area, in plain and worn clothing, exhausted by more than his journey. When he is invited to offer the blessing on the first meal, he begins with recited phrases, then continues on with a personal prayer even as the 100+ cardinals automatically start to sit at the end of the phrase, prompting them to stand again as he pleads in prayer for those in need, revealing his deep awareness of others on the margins, and specifically for the women who provide this meal for them. Sister Agnes, who is in charge of these women hears and feels this, in ways the men cannot. 

The motions of tradition and ritual are deeply ingrained in Cardinal Lawrence. So he is confronted when he must deal with the politics and scandal of fellow Cardinals who are willing to lie, and bribe, and betray each other in seeking to rise to power over the organization where they claim to be called to Christlike ministry. 

I constantly thought of the confronting and divine message of Doctrine and Covenants section 121. Those in authority can claim it all they want. They can have titles, and tokens, and following, and influence. But the moment it is not lived through compassion and long suffering and loving kindness, it is not God. It cannot last. 

Cardinal Lawrence senses that the structure he is given charge of is at risk, and he must confront the tension between the pressure to follow tradition, to appear in calm control, to allow corrupt politics to play out. We see the moments where his thoughts, words and actions depart from what all the men are doing. He is the one who weeps with grief. He is the one who shows resistance to his power. He is the one who departs from the wrote homily, offering words that express his experience of moving beyond his crisis of faith. He departs from the traditional welcome, and pleads for the men to move toward wisdom and complexity.

“Let me speak from the heart for a moment. St. Paul said, “Be subject to one another out of reverence for Christ.” To work together, to grow together, we must be tolerant. No one person or faction seeking to dominate another. And speaking to the Ephesians who were of course a mixture of Jews and gentiles, Paul reminds us that God’s gift to the Church is its variety. It is this variety, this diversity of people and views, which gives our Church its strength. And over the course of many years in service of our mother the Church, let me tell you, there is one sin which I have come to fear above all others. Certainty. Certainty is the great enemy of unity. Certainty is the deadly enemy of tolerance. Even Christ was not certain at the end. My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? He cried out in his agone at the ninth hour on the cross. Our faith is a living thing precisely because it walks hand in hand with doubt. If there was only certainty and no doubt, there would be no mystery. And therefore no need for faith.”

The opposing archetypes depicted by Cardinal Lawrence in his struggle are the certainty of male characters (Adam), and the wisdom seeking, nourishing female figures(Eve). The men in charge, those with power, overwhelmingly function in the comfort of certainty, of making sure things continue as they have, secure that they are a part of something that must move forward as it benefits them, because they are certain it is God’s will, since it is their will. 

In the background, there are the women. The men are not even aware of how much the women keep things running, keep them fed. The men are not aware of how aware the women are of what is going one. The women are very aware of how their very existence has to be complex, dwelling in the contraries of serving God within a structure that proclaims the message and mystery of the Gospel, but is run by very human, flawed men. 

Cardinal Benitez and the women gradually claim more of Cardinal Lawrence’s awareness, and he wrestles with seeing things in new ways. Cardinal Benitez is calmly firm in his integrity, and will not move even when he is pressured to follow political influence. This complex wisdom, this willingness of Benitez to completely own and be responsible for his journey calls Cardinal Lawrence to deepen his own. Cardinal Lawrence is soon compelled to see and interact with women when they directly impact and interrupt the ritual. He is not yet practiced enough in seeing women as inherently valuable individuals. His efforts to interact are still following the script he has followed. But Sister Agnes’ voice is heard for the first time, and it is unapologetically powerful, and unapologetically protective of her fellow sisters. 

People outside the gated walls and windows of the Conclave also become impossible to ignore. The sisters are more aware of the conflict outside. The archetype of the holy spirit in the form of a bird is shown in connection with Sister Agnes. She is clearly listening to it. 

Cardinal Lawrence becomes more practiced in listening to the call to wisdom, to take responsibility to lead the process, and to understand when he must do what was unthinkable before, literally break traditional sealings to uncover the blood and sins of this generation, to help repentance begin, that they may be the people they say they want to be.

His wrestle with his own attraction to take power, justifying it with a desire to prevent regressive harm, is a difficult reminder for us all to watch for in ourselves. 

“Then something happens…” is another archetype that escalates throughout the movie. And sometimes, the feeling that a bomb has hit is very literal. 

Cardinal Lawrence begins to seek out more interactions with Cardinal Benitez, struggling with wanting to resist his calm integrity, while being inspired by its transforming power. He also eventually acknowledges the value of Sister Agnes, and has to learn to show he is really listening and seeing. She is able to step into the call and opportunity to influence this very male ritual, because she has begun to feel seen and heard by him. His acknowledgement and appreciation of her work creates a new kind of partnership with the courage and wisdom of women. He begins to find that courage within himself, and move beyond the political pressure to not risk the image of the institution, at the cost of the work of true ministry. 

This leads Cardinal Lawrence to create a space where those who sought power for power’s sake, who exercise authority for authority’s sake are revealed in such a way that any inspiring power of God is absent in them. They cannot avoid hearing Sister Agnes speak, where no woman has ever had voice, saying, “Although we sisters are supposed to be invisible, God has nevertheless given us eyes and ears.” She verifies the immoral works of those bereft of the Spirit, and leaves them to choose what to follow. 

But only those who have ears to hear and eyes to see will do so. And others continue to kick against the pricks.

In a last battle scene, after violent actions outside break through the barriers insulating the Conclave from the world family, where the final adversary who demands adherence, control and certainty, loudly insists on compliance, claiming to be the only one who can save the institution by waging war on the rest of the world, another space is created where people are yearning for a different message. Cardinal Benitez steps into it, speaking peace to those who desperately seek it, inspiring by sharing his own experience, offering what inspired him, to inspire others. This is the most Godlike way of multiplying and replenishing the Earth, the most eternal way of creating life. By inspiring others to breathe deeper, and live life more completely connected to all life.

Cardinal Benitez’ words. “With respect…what do you know about war? I carried out my ministry in the Congo, in Baghdad, in Kabul. I’ve seen the lines of the dead and wounded, Christian and Muslim. When you say we have to fight, what is it you think we’re fighting? You think it is those deluded men who have carried out these terrible acts today? No, my brother. The thing you’re fighting is here (gestures to his heart), inside each and every one of us. If we give into hate now, if we speak of “sides” instead of speaking for every man and woman. This is my first time here, amongst you, and I suppose it will be my last. Forgive me, but these last few days we have shown ourselves to be small petty men, we have seemed concerned only with ourselves, with Rome, with these election, with power. But these things are not the Church. The Church is not tradition. The Church is not the past. The Church is what we do next.”

This inspires enough of the Cardinals to see new possibilities, and consider a new way of doing things. As Cardinal Lawrence prepares to write in his final vote for the next Pope, he feels the slight movement of fresh air, and hears the birdsong coming in through the shattered, once barred window. 

Benitez is almost reluctant in his acceptance of the role to lead as the new Pope. The inevitable “then something happened” occurs again. Cardinal Lawrence is, once again, confronted in taking on a new level of contradictions when he learns how completely Benitez is a physical embodiment of male and female, of certainty and doubt, of opposition in all things. He is the existence of the early attempt to describe the spectrum of God creating each person in Their own image, male and female created They them. Lawrence quickly slips into reaction and almost outrage, confronting Benitez to explain how he thinks this is supposed to work. 

But Lawrence has been practicing receiving wisdom that defies the past during this process. Benitez offers words that inspire. “I am what God made me. And perhaps it is my difference that will make me more useful. I think again of your sermon. I know what it is to exist between the world’s certainties.”

There are few things more confronting and moving than to hear someone let you know how your own words inspired and guided them. And to hear them invite you into a more expansive life because of them. Lawrence chooses to step into this new life, in the midst of the structure, vestments and ritual. He sees things he hadn’t noticed before. The shuttered windows open, and he is bathed in light, hears more birdsong as he steps to the window, and notices, maybe for the first time, women who are joyfully laughing and walking through the open courtyard below. 

I value symbolic ritual for its powerful spiritual theater experience of living vicariously through all characters in the human journey. And the main archetype of the conflict and opposition that is within each of us is often depicted in a separation of male and female. We are drawn forward in journeying from innocence and certainty, towards complexity, doubt, opposition and wisdom. At some point, we can learn to see what we close our eyes and ears to, and what is possible when we will see and hear the existence of those parts of ourselves which will connect to all in partnership towards greater life. Towards divine life. In the symbolic unity of opposites, male and female, welcoming each other in full existence together, we realize and are present to the kingdom of God, which Christ taught is within each of us. 

Conclave is a masterful depiction of this journey. As humans, we might be tempted to view this as we would view any story of conflict and triumph. We want to identify with the good ones, the wise ones, the humble ones, or the winners. I invite you to consider that the most enduring stories will invite us to see ourselves in all parts. In each viewing, similar to each repeated temple ritual, or each reading of journey stories such as Lord of the Rings, I look for myself in all characters, and parts. What speaks to me in the soaring pillars and grand frescoes of the palatial Vatican Palace and Sistine Chapel? What entices me towards the certainty of scripted ritual? How can I relate to the promise of submitting to authority in order to get a guaranteed outcome, even at the cost of denying variety and agency? Where do I embrace the safety of only following directions and putting all responsibility on authority, and where do I respond to the call of moving towards wisdom, and growth which can only come when embracing contradictions? Where am I rigidly attached to the ways things were, insisting that it must continue this way, and thus closing my eyes and ears to the creation of greater life, and unimaginable possibility? Where am I unwilling to acknowledge the existence of those different from myself? How can I practice seeing others as fully connected to all future possibility, and covenant to mourn together, comfort each other, and bear each other’s burdens as we share our journeys forward?

Greater life, deeper breath, limitless love is outside the barriers we build. God will never stop reaching out. Acknowledge the value of ritual practice, the impact of the men in charge, and where tradition of certainty has brought us. Then see and hear the female part of the world, of you, that has the eyes and ears to know what is going on. Let it step forward, take up space, and be heard. Let the whole spectrum of how we are created and exist after the image of Gods, wrestling with certainty and doubt, unify to multiply and replenish the Earth with greater light. 

Sacred Music Sunday: Hail the Day that Sees Him Rise

Last Sunday, my ward watched a recorded broadcast from the area presidency of our local area – North America Southwest. The theme of the broadcast was about Easter and how we need to do more as individuals and as a church to prepare for and celebrate it. I was glad to hear this, because I’ve been saying that for at least 20 years. The area president said that we should have as big a lead-up to Easter as we do to Christmas. After the broadcast, we brainstormed as a ward ways we can do that in our local area.

I’m the ward music chair, so a lot of the liturgical celebration falls to me. We don’t have many Easter hymns in our hymnal, so I’m pleased that the church released another one in the new set of hymns. It’s an old classic – Hail the Day that Sees Him Rise. I’ve always been fond of it, and I’ll likely make it the opening hymn on Easter Sunday.

Easter is in a little less than three months. Theologically, it’s the most significant holiday in Christianity, but it often takes a back seat to Christmas (and in some years, though thankfully not this year, general conference). What are some ways that you prepare for the lead-up to Easter? Do you get ashes on Ash Wednesday? Do you observe Lent, Palm Sunday, or Good Friday? Do you read the gospels in preparation? Do you have any other traditions? Let’s give Easter the attention it deserves this year.