Ich weiß nicht.

“You seem upset.”

“I am upset. You should be, too. Why aren’t there apologies? Why aren’t our leaders more concerned with the issues that bother us? Why isn’t there any transparency? I feel like I’m knocking, knocking, knocking, and I’m not getting any answers.”

A few tender months after the Church’s article on Race and the Priesthood was released, I was visiting some friends in Paris, France when I heard the good news – Elder Steven E. Snow, the Church Historian, was in town, and he was holding a Q&A Fireside for anyone to attend. Seeing as I had about one million questions, I agreed to go.

The first half hour was quiet and calm, commencing with testimony-filled comments from the historian and his counselor about the greatness of the Lord’s work and how learning the Church’s history intimately has helped their faith in Joseph Smith grow. A few shy questions were politely asked, as if to ease the obvious tension in the room that weighed heavily upon confused hearts. Suddenly, my dear friend’s hand shot up. “I served my mission in Utah,” she started, “where I learned about many historical events I wasn’t aware of, often because investigators would question us with rumors they heard. I wanted to know if you’ve ever personally come across something in your research that’s disturbed you, and, if so, how do you deal with it?”

The room fell silent, and Elder Snow’s pleasant face twisted into a frown. Becoming surprisingly defensive, he brushed aside her question with another Praise to the Man, claiming that if anyone had a real testimony of the restored gospel they wouldn’t have a problem. “The Church’s history is like a large tapestry,” he informed us, “and, if you look closely, sometimes you’ll see threads in there that don’t make sense. But if you take a step back, you’ll see the whole beautiful tapestry. Then the threads you don’t understand don’t matter as much.”

A floodgate had opened, with several more people daring to raise their hands to ask the “tiny thread” questions. Elder Snow answered a few more questions, then asked to draw the meeting to a close. Since I was not of the chosen few selected to speak, I marched up to the front and asked to speak to the historian and his counselor.

“So, would you say that these ‘confusing’ threads are a mistake? Or do you believe that they’re actually a necessary part of the ‘tapestry’?”

Elder Snow saw my blazing eyes and excused himself to speak to the bishop while his counselor turned to me, smiling. I continued, explaining my thoughts on the recent article on racism in the Church’s history, my dissatisfaction with the way women are treated, and the lack of support given to LGBT members of our faith.

“You seem upset,” he responded, slightly hesitant. 

“I am upset. You should be, too. Why aren’t there apologies? Why aren’t our leaders more concerned with the issues that bother us? Why isn’t there any transparency? I feel like I’m knocking, knocking, knocking, and I’m not getting any answers.”

Looking intently at my face, he paused for a moment, and proceeded to say the sweetest words I have ever heard come out of a priesthood leader’s mouth.

“I don’t know.”

I once listened to a Freakonomics podcast that really resonated with me called, “The Three Hardest Words in the English Language.” And no, “I love you” are not those words. The three hardest words in the English language are, according to economists, “I don’t know.” Stephen Dubner, the host of the show, goes on to explain that in order to become successful at your job and, well, in life in general, being able to acknowledge when you don’t know something is crucial. “Until you can admit what you don’t know,” he explains, “it’s virtually impossible to learn what you need to. Because if you think you already have all the answers, you won’t go looking for them.” His colleague and fellow economist, Steve Levitt, added, “The thing about always faking is that if you fake like you know the answer, you don’t have the freedom to explore other possibilities. But if you actually care about the outcome and the truth, saying ‘I don’t know’ is critical.”

There’s a perception in our society that if we admit to not knowing something, we appear to be weak or incompetent. This absurdity, like so many other aspects of our Western culture which we subject ourselves to, has permeated the porous religious walls behind which we protect our faith. Time and time again I have attempted to bring difficult and ambiguous questions to the Sunday School table or to the bishop’s desk, and time and time again I have been shut down with unverifiable doctrinal theories or rote answers that don’t even really address the issue at hand.

In my last transfer on my mission, I was asked to give a workshop on “How to Answer Hard Questions” at our quarterly Zone Conference. I started out by asking the Elders in the room (my companion and I were the only sisters) to role play answering certain prompts I’d given them, most of which had something to do with an investigator asking why women don’t have the priesthood or why the Church practiced polygamy. Every single one of those Elders came up with some sort of elaborate answer, even throwing some scriptures around as if to prove the point they’d rehearsed their whole lives.  

I then asked them if there was any real doctrinal foundation to what they were saying. I pointed out some scriptures that directly contradicted the message they were trying to convey through their own display of God’s Word, and asked them to provide the reference for the prophets they were supposedly quoting. They fumbled around for a minute, searching for something tangible in the void I’d thrown them into, before admitting that they had no concrete evidence for the answers they were providing. I turned around and wrote “Ich weiß nicht” [I don’t know] on the board.

“These are the only words that have given me any comfort when addressing these issues. No theories, no opinions, no traditions of thought have ever provided as much consolation as the words ‘I don’t know’ have when spoken by a person in authority,” I explained. “Never pretend to have the answers. Be honest, open, and willing to admit when something is hard to understand. Tell them you don’t know, but you’d like to.”

  

I have come to believe that allowing yourself to not have all the answers can not only be extremely therapeutic, it can also lead you on the path to more enlightened truth.  In that same podcast, Stephen Dubner reminded us that “simply saying ‘I don’t know’ isn’t a solution. It’s just a first step. You have to figure out what you don’t know – and then work like a dog to learn.”

Though perhaps contradictory to logic, understanding that no one has the answers has provided me a lot of clarity and given me a space in which my faith has grown. It has allowed me to explore the idea that there is so much more to learn, and the answers and excuses I had been given all my life that I did not agree with are not necessarily the truth God wants me to know and comprehend. I find great comfort in knowing that my Heavenly Father will, as I’ve learned through the example of Joseph Smith, give me knowledge that is contingent upon my asking and waiting for it. Elder Stanley G. Ellis assured members in a 2010 Ensign article that “the Lord expects us to inquire, study, and act – even though there are some things we may never know in this life.”  

“I don’t know” is a good place to start, but it is not the magic pot at the end of the rainbow. It should never be used to shut someone up or quiet a movement down. Admitting our lack of knowledge shouldn’t lead us to blind faith, it should guide us to divine inspiration. Knowing you don’t have the answers is humility, and understanding that it is possible to have answers, clarity, and peace in this life is hope.

“Verily, verily, I say unto thee, blessed art thou for what thou hast done; for thou hast inquired of me, and behold, as often as thou hast inquired thou hast received instruction of my Spirit. If it had not been so, thou wouldst not have come to the place where thou art at this time.

Behold, thou knowest that thou hast inquired of me and I did enlighten thy mind; and now I tell thee these things that thou mayest know that thou hast been enlightened by the Spirit of truth.”

D&C 6: 14, 15

#WhyTheyAbuse

In case you’re willingly blind to the feminist happenings of the world at the present moment, which unfortunately is the current state for so many of you, allow me to invite you to the conversation of a movement that is [rightfully] receiving a lot of attention:

#16Days of Activism against Gender-Based Violence 

As some of you may know, I am currently employed at a domestic violence* shelter that services a large metropolitan area, so this particular facet of gender-based violence has become of great interest to me. I have always been extremely passionate about women’s rights (duh) and dismantling the evil of patriarchy, and having the opportunity to work with and for the women in my community is an incredible learning experience that I believe has enabled me to become a better feminist.

*Domestic violence has been defined as "a pattern of abusive behavior in any relationship that is used by one partner to gain or maintain power and control over another intimate partner. [It] can be physical, sexual, emotional, economic, or psychological actions or threats of actions that influence another person."

This new experience has also allowed me to tune in even more closely to the conversations addressing domestic violence issues, most of which seem to be heading in a productive direction. There are, however, still some lingering problems that I believe are born of the patriarchal subconscious. I would like to address one of them.


With statistics as high as 1 in 3 women experiencing domestic violence at some point in their lives in the US and 35% of women worldwide (that's over 1.2 billion we're talking about), we've got an extremely prevalent and rarely addressed problem on our hands.

Perhaps you’ve heard of the #WhyIStayed hashtag trend, or seen brave women such as Ms. Steiner explain the dynamics and consequences behind women who find themselves in domestic violence situations with people they once loved. You’ve maybe wondered why on earth women like Janay Rice decided to go ahead and marry her abuser, or pondered about what you yourself would do in a similar situation (though I’m sure your hypotheticals would do you no good if you found yourself such an environment).

The thing is, when we talk about domestic violence, our society at large seems to forget* an extremely important part of the problem: the ABUSERS, the majority of which happen to be men. 

*[I would also like to add that a very significant number of men have experienced  or will experience domestic violence as well, which adds a whole different dynamic to the conversation of things we forget about or ignore when addressing violence. I would love to write more about this later, but in the meantime you can read more about male victims of violence here.]

We have created a culture that blames victims so effortlessly it’s a little scary. Women are seen as rude for not being flattered by street harassment. Women are at fault for sexual assault because of what they were wearing. Women are stupid for staying with their abusive partners. How has the conversation turned toward the victim so easily? How have we been missing the one vital mark of the entire incident, that SOMEONE HAS CAUSED HARM AND WE HAVE WRITTEN THEM OUT OF THE DIALOGUE? 

Let's change the conversation. No person in a domestic violence situation needs to explain to the world why they stayed or justify their [misguided] love or have physical evidence that they were “truly”being abused, which is unfortunately a tragic reality for so many victims. 

Let's instead demand that every single abuser must be accountable for and face the consequences of their actions. Let's help them to understand and seek the necessary counseling they need so they never hurt again (can we get a new #WhyIHurt hashtag trend to replace the #WhyIStayed??). Let's provide more trust and assurance to victims who are already scared for their lives and well-beings. Most importantly, let's identify patterns of violence in our communities, in our families, and in our own lives and intervene before it takes a turn for the worse.

And that includes all of you, men of this world - grow a pair and finally stand up to your dude friends who make inappropriate or violent jokes about women or rape or harassment of any kind. It starts with the actions or thoughts that are painted as "harmless," and it can end with the people around you taking it seriously. 

Please watch this video, it will change you life. Especially you, men.

And then check out this website for more awesome information on a program that has proven to significantly reduce violence in communities across the US by empowering people to stand up to and change patterns of violence. 




Stay classy, folks. And remember, you CAN do something about it.

Guest Blog Post: 4 Ways You Can Have a Major Feminist Impact on the Men in Your Life

Alright. It's been a while, I know. I've been busy coming up with lots of excuses for why I don't take the time to enlighten the world anymore, but I'm too lazy to share any of them. So I'm sharing something my friend wrote instead!

Whitney was one of my companions on my mission in Germany, and besides being pretty great she also happens to be a really talented writer. In fact, she champions her own awesome blog with her husband about their writing escapades. So when she asked if she could write something "feministy" for my blog*, the immediately answer was something to the effect of, "YES PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE." 

*I would like to add that I claim all responsibility for inspiring her feminist dreams. 

I hope you enjoy - feel free to share your thoughts and hopes and dreams below!

..................................................

4 Ways You Can Have a Major Feminist Impact on the Men in Your Life

A few days ago, I asked my husband if he considered himself a feminist. “No” was the simple answer.

“What do you consider yourself, then?” I asked.

“I don’t consider myself anything. I just think that men and women should be equal and it’s a simple, reasonable thing to expect.”

As much as we agree on so many things about how things should be different in society, he plans to go without a label. He goes without a label because as Lesa has once pointed out, “feminism” is a new-age F-word to people who don’t quite understand the term or the people using the label. He doesn’t call me a feminist, either. He just calls me his equal.

So, to my fellow sisters and members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I’d like to share four ways you can help your guy friends—in and out of the church—realize that they’re probably feminists too; they just don’t realize it yet.

1. Don’t Lecture—Share

John M. Gottman, author of The Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work, knew when communication between spouses were a bust just by a tell-tale sign he calls “stonewalling.” He basically says that sometimes two people fight so much about something, that one person has a dramatic monologue and the other person doesn’t even bother arguing anymore; they disengage.

If you want to be a good influence on men or women, you can’t let them start to disengage. A way to do this is to have a two-way conversation, rather than a rant to finally hash out all your frustration you have against society on one poor person.

Guys don’t like to be lectured to, especially about feminism. If you need further proof, just check out #NotAllMen. Guys know that men mistreat women, and being blamed for all those mistakes is not something they can champion for you.

Instead, share. Have a conversation. This would mean that you’re sharing your thoughts about a subject, and you ask for his opinion. He’s allowed to have an opinion, right?

He’s going to realize at one point or another that he really does agree—that might not be until he’s got a little daughter of his own. Give him the benefit of the doubt; he needs to hear what it’s like to be a woman to really understand the daily ways he can show more respect to women. However, you can’t be responsible for changing his world in a day.

2. Don’t Divide—Show Your Support

Rather than hating on all guys, show how you personally value priesthood holders in your life. If you really believe in equality, look out for their rights, too.

They have to get “the talk” about porn, missions, and being temple-worthy just as much as we are pressured to get married, have kids, and dress modestly. How would you like sitting in a white shirt and tie and be lectured at for an hour on pornography or masturbation? They understand us more than we think.

Feminism has become so vile in the mouths of men (and women), because it plants the idea in their minds that by being a feminist, you must hate all men, or put them all on the same level as vile, untrustworthy, and incompetent. Well, we know that’s not true.

We can show legitimate support for the men that hold the priesthood—not merely because they hold the priesthood, but because they are mortal men trying to be worthy of the power ordained of God. They want to use their authority to bless their families and their community, so why not give them the confidence they need to do it?

3. Don’t Complain—Offer Solutions

It’s hard being in your 20s and all of a sudden, a world of hatred, misunderstanding, and injustice is unfolded before you. What’s a woman to do? I highly doubt that what I do will ever change the whole world in a day, but I know I have a small realm of influence that I can slowly improve with much more time.

If you feel like the women of the gospel could use a better example, why not be one? If they need a more fulfilling role in the ward you’re a part of—ask your bishop what you and the sisters can do. Find the boundary between what is gospel and what is "just the way things have always been” and help where you can actually help change something.

In essence, you can preach to your brothers in the gospel or nonmember friends until you’re blue in the face about what needs to be changed—but unless you have legitimate solutions or suggestions, it’ll only sound like ranting. Rantings give men the invitation to start stonewalling, and at the end, no one wins.

4. Don’t Get Mad—Get Spiritual

Instead of being upset with the fact that you can’t change others, be at peace, knowing that you can change yourself. Don’t let others bastardize your beliefs or testimony.

General Conference has come and gone. Who has enlightened you to recognize what you can do to change, and give you that power to change?

You can be a catalyst for change. Just don’t let it consume who you are and what you believe. As in, if you spend too much time devoting time trying to change other people, it will lead to a lot of frustration and self-doubt. I had a lot of that on my mission, trust me. People change when they want to, and on their own terms.

Trying to Be a “Good” Feminist

There is a famous logical fallacy called fallacy of composition, or basically thinking that what is true of a part must be true of the whole group. That would be like high school friends thinking that you had three moms. They heard one story about polygamy and thought it applied to everyone.

While this is considered a bad way to argue anything, what if men and women thought Mormon women were kick-ass and spiritual because they knew you? The media seems set on how they view us as women—subservient or whiny—and they don’t seem ready to change their minds. If that’s not who you are, then you can influence the people around you by your testimony and your genuine personality.

Know that Heavenly Father gave you a beautiful mind and spirit; He trusts that you will create small victories in this world to bring people closer together and hopefully closer to Him and His love. 

Whitney, a BYU graduate, is a writer, editor, and Pinterest addict. She claims that she realized she was a feminist in Germany as a sister missionary. Germany can do interesting things to the heart. 

You can find details about her current writings and obsessions through her website: witandtravesty.wordpress.com

Not dead.

Just wanted people to know that I'm still here and I'm not done writing. In fact, I've been writing for Young Mormon Feminists, which you can check out here:

Some thoughts about my mission and why I stay in the Church

Women, careers, and the Church

I hope you enjoy it. Catch y'all later.

We thank thee, oh God.

Welp.

For those who might not be aware of Mormon happenings, you should know two things:
1. Twice yearly the leadership of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints holds a conference that is broadcasted worldwide. Men and women, whom we believe are called of God to speak in His name, give "talks," or sermons, that give instruction on how we can best serve God and others. This past weekend we had this conference, often referred to as General Conference or snuggleonthecouchinyourpajamastime. This is where I learned that,
2. We shouldn't call ourselves Mormons anymore.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm open to any new suggestions for nicknames.


Anyways.

One of the main vibes I was picking up from the conference (and this is just my personal opinion, I'm sure others were feeling other lovely feelings) is this idea that people are being persecuted for their beliefs, and it's important to stand strong and hold fast to your principles. Amiright? And I thought, "Oh! That's me! I feel that way a lot!"

But then there were lots of stories and thoughts shared about those with strong religious convictions who have stood firm in the faith through their trials of challenging "immorality" and other sins, which according to Church leaders are quickly becoming the status quo. Encouragement to not lose hope was given, as well as instruction to lovingly correct others in their paths.

My immediate thoughts were as follows:

....
.....
......

Do my very religious friends and family really feel attacked or persecuted for their beliefs? In what ways? How often?

As a religious minority in my hometown, there were of course instances in which I felt that I need to defend my faith, but for the most part everyone was warm and loving and very tolerant of my "Mormonism." It wasn't until I lived among those who share my faith that I felt any sort of persecution or intolerance (read story here), but that was usually for my political beliefs. Having lived in this environment for the past several years, it was hard for me to imagine while listening to this conference that those who had often said harsh words to me about my beliefs were also feeling like they were constantly defending their faith as well.

And then it hit me.


WE ARE ALL SO STUPID, GUYZ.

Seriously though, do you not see this? Everyone is feeling under attack. Everyone is acknowledging intolerance and a lack of love, no matter what side it's coming from. Everyone is trying to find truth and to live it and to do so without feeling like they constantly have to defend the way they live or why they think the thoughts they think. Everyone is feeling wounded by others' arrows of bitterness, and we're all too concerned about hiding behind the giant fortresses of pride we've built instead of communicating with each other honestly and openly.

Can't we all just go back to being friends? Is it possible to create a safe space where everyone can express themselves and contribute to a loving conversation in which we discuss our differences? Does judgement need to be our constant companion? And can we all have the patience and humility to admit when we're wrong and when we need to adjust our ideas?

Because Jesus.



1 John 4:8
He [or she] that loveth not knowth not God; for God is love. 

ps. Please take note at the "Kittens" poster in the corner. That is not a coincidence.

"Hey, baby!" and other awkward moments.

Man staring at me while I was filling up my car at a gas station: "Hey, baby. Why don't you smile? You're sexy, I bet I'd like your smile."

Me:  --->

                        

Anyone who thinks we don't need feminism or that we're "past it" should try being a woman in public. I can promise you that every woman I've met, whether she claims to be feminist or not, has experienced some form of sexual harassment. On the street, in the workplace, at school, even at home, I repeat: I have never met a woman who hasn't experienced some form of sexual harassment.

Sexual harassment is "unwelcome sexual advances, requests for sexual favors, and other verbal or physical conduct of a sexual nature." This can include various levels of offense, including cat calling, unwanted touching, sexual assault, and even whistling. The UN has a specific list you can find here. This is of course not limited to women - men can be and often are the victims of sexual harassment as well, though the majority of victims are female. Internationally, studies show that between 70-99% of women experience some form of sexual harassment at some point in their lives.

There are a thousand stories I could tell you, stories that belong to me and stories that have been relayed to me by other women. They include (but are not limited to) tales of rape, incest, cat calling, public humiliation, vulgar body motions, verbal abuse, and being stared at in a violating way. It's humiliating, degrading, and offensive. All of these stories have lead to fear, anxiety, and often depression in our lives, and we do not enjoy certain privileges, such as walking alone, day or night, without being on our guard because we're always trying to think of ways to protect ourselves should something happen. These experiences have plagued our lives, and all because we have a vagina.



I could write a book on my thoughts, but I don't have the energy. I guess what I wanted to say is that I'm just tired. I'm tired of this being a part of my life. I'm tired of hearing similar things on the news every single day and things hardly seem to be getting better. I'm tired of people making jokes or blaming the victim. I'M TIRED OF MEN DOING HORRIBLE, DEGRADING THINGS TO WOMEN. Why is this still happening? Why is it still accepted? Why are people standing by, letting it happen without saying something? Why do some find it funny? Why are people not worth more to you?


This is the part where I give you some resources. And you will do something about it.

-Hollaback: A nonproft and movement to end street harassment. http://www.ihollaback.org/
-Buy a "Cats Against Cat Calling" shirt! http://www.feministapparel.com/products/cats-against-catcalls-t-shirt-tanktop-profits-from-this-shirt-go-to-hollaback
-Watch this documentary about Anita Hill: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JN8FDRIy-LE

Any other suggestions?



  

On being a doubting Christian.

"I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians. They are so unlike your Christ." - Gandhi





Anyone who knows me is fully aware of my brash personality. I almost always feel comfortable stating exactly what I'm thinking, I am not easily intimidated, and I have carefully developed very, very strong opinions. Though somewhat unconventional, I have come to really appreciate this about my personality.

I didn't always like this about myself. I was often meant to feel ashamed of having such a "strong" personality, and I was often told if I didn't keep myself in check that I wasn't going to make friends or even find someone to marry. On my LDS mission in Germany, I felt so inadequate when comparing myself to the other sister missionaries - they were all so charming and friendly and smiley. I was sulky and blunt and sometimes rude at best, which made it hard to give the first impressions members were seeking from their beloved sisters.

I eventually came to terms with this. I grew to tolerate it when I felt like I couldn't change myself (and I was very unhappy doing so). Eventually I came to realize that not only does God love me just the way I am, He just might have given me the personality traits that are necessary to broadening His work and addressing people's needs that maybe others wouldn't have been able to do.



During my long journey in finding truth and establishing my beliefs, I have questioned the faith I have grew up in many, many times. Even when I think I "know" enough, I learn something new or think of something in a differently light that makes me feel like I need to start all over again. This is nothing new or unique, and I've addressed these concerns and issues several times in this blog.

These doubts, combined with my rather loud personality, sometimes leads to clashes with other people. Though I have often felt ostracized and hurt by people who define much of their lives by membership in the LDS Church, I would like to state that I have felt more love and concern on my behalf than hate from the people in my life, in and outside of the Church. I do, however, completely understand when people I dearly love choose to remove themselves from religion because of the opinions of a few members. It's hard to be in an environment where you feel more judged than accepted, or more despised than welcome.

Yesterday I had dinner with a friend and her brother, the latter of which is struggling with his beliefs.  We were all raised in the LDS Church and we have all served missions, and because of the balance I've found between commitment to my faith and servicing my doubts, my friend thought that her brother might be interested in speaking with someone who shares a lot of the same thoughts.  We talked for several hours, addressing all of our concerns from women in the church to blacks and the priesthood, from our love of God to our acceptance of LGBT members of our community. It's at moments like this that I feel validated in my personality, and I feel grateful that I am able to be a person that some people feel like they can talk to and sympathize with.

A middle-aged woman sitting nearby, who had apparently been eavesdropping on our conversation with her teenage daughter, suddenly stood up and made her way over to our booth. Addressing me, she asked, "So, you served a mission for the church?" Surprised, I responded in the affirmative. "Well," she smirked, "you wouldn't know by the way you talk." She grabbed her glass of water, dumped it all over me, and walked away.


I would like to address a personal note, not only to this woman, but to people in the Church who have tendencies like her.

Madame,

I'm sorry you walked away so quickly after drenching me with your water, much to the surprise of the people around you. I wanted to talk to you and tell you that I'm sorry you were so offended by my personal opinions. I'm sorry that you are so angry about a private conversation between personal friends in which I openly talked about things that are hard for me to understand, and which seem to be in direct conflict with my affiliation with the LDS Church. I'm sorry that you felt no other way to express your feelings than by assaulting a stranger.

If you had listened more carefully, you would have heard me share my testimony of God and His love for us. You would have heard me expressing the decision I've made to stay in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, despite questions that I consistently ask myself and Church leaders. You might have heard about the pain and hurt I and my friends have felt because of the actions of members. You might have been invited to be a productive part of the conversation, offering your opinions and sharing your faith as well. But most importantly, you would have realized that someone at that table is seriously questioning their activity in the Church, and your actions have done more harm than good in that respect.

I'm not quite sure what you meant to accomplish by making me feel unloved, unwanted, and misunderstood. Do you want me to stay away from church activities? Because if that's the case, I can assure you, you have fueled a fire in me that makes me want to bust open the doors of every church building in America and hug all the misfits, the marginalized, and the questioning. I will continue to attend church in order for people like you to know that not only do I belong, but so does every. single. person. on this planet, if that's what they want.

I'd like to recommend the New Testament as some light reading. It's quite enjoyable, and if you apply some of the principles the main character taught I think you might come to value diversity and learn how to love. But what do I know, I'm just a returned missionary that doesn't talk like one.

Sincerely,

Me.

Ps. These are some members of the Church in one of the German cities I served in. They weren't active when I first met them, and they were too embarrassed to come to church for fear they wouldn't fit in. After meeting with them regularly, answering their hard questions (questions that I have had to ask many times) and sharing my limited faith, they decided to come back and work towards the blessings of the temple. I just wanted you to see the faces of some of the people I loved on my mission, people who told me they were "endlessly grateful" for helping them with their concerns and showing them that God loves them regardless of their past, present, or future.

DTR

Dear America,

You are pretty great. I don't say that very often because sometimes I'm upset with your politics. But it's true, you have some really great qualities. For starters, you're pretty attractive. I mean, Yellowstone? That's one hot piece of land you got there. And don't even get me started on the California Redwoods. Mmm.

I appreciate your role in the arts. Your role in the development of theater and the cinema are tremendous, though I have to admit you've been slacking in recent years. Just saying. But your contributions are indeed incredible, nobody can deny that. American art and literature will also always hold a place in my heart, and don't even get me started on jazz. Jazz is by far the greatest thing you have ever given to this earth and has saved probably saved our relationship on many an occasion.

Again, you're pretty great. I don't know how else to say this, but...I think we need a break. Maybe a more permanent one. I know, I know, I've been dragging this on for a while. We should have just ended things right after I left you for Germany, but I wasn't sure how that would end up. I mean, I did go back to France like five months later, so if that's any indication...

Anyway. I don't mean to hurt you, it's me not you. I just don't think we're going to work out, that's all. I would love to be friends, and I think it would be great if we had lunch every once in a while (I mean, we've been together for so long, how could we just break it off?). I just don't think we'll make each other happy anymore.

I love you. I've always loved you, and I'll never forget you. I hope you understand.

Love,

Me.

Sharing hilarity.

I'm going to take a break from writing about heavy subjects that tear your soul apart and just brag about my family for a bit.

I have the best family in the world. And no, you cannot contest that. It's just the truth and you have to accept it.

I'd like to think I have an amusing sense of humor. I like to make people laugh and it's gotten me out of many a potentially awkward situation. I learned these skills, as most do, from my family. My mother, almost always smiling and lighting up the room with her bubbly personality, loves to make people feel welcome. This is most assuredly done through making people laugh. My father, less outgoing but surprisingly talkative when you get him on the right subjects, has a secretly dark sense of humor. My childhood memories of my daddy include, but are not limited to: learning to sing the "fart" song whenever beans were served with dinner, begging Dad to do the napkin face (he put a napkin on his face and stuck his tongue through it - why we loved it, I don't know), hearing our names being substituted for the evil people in the Bible and Book of Mormon whenever Dad read aloud to us, and staying up late to watch the show Max X. I've never heard my dad laugh so hard than when watching people get seriously hurt doing incredibly stupid things.

Needless to say, my siblings and I soaked in the influences of my parents - my mother's ability to target an individual's sense of humor and adapt the conversation to make them feel at ease, and my father's taste for somewhat indecent and justifiably hilarious things in life. It could easily be said that this combination has produced one of the most hilarious and awesome families ever to exist on the planet.

And so. I was emailing back and forth with my brother Mitch yesterday. I would like to share this conversation with you, mostly because a) I find it hilarious and I want to share it with the whole world and b) you need to understand how amazing my brother is.


WARNING: If you like Nascar and/or are from the South, this might offend you.



Me: I'm supposed to be looking up the top magazines for NASCAR fans for my job right now. WHO DEDICATES WHOLE MAGAZINES TO THIS STUFF.

Mitch: There's more than one magazine for NASCAR?? Wtf? It's probably pretty enlightening I guess. 
"I only get these NASCAR magazines for the.... articles..."

Me: I hate motor sports. They are so dumb. Seriously, how can this be one of the most popular sports in the world?

Mitch: Cause it's waay cool. Think about it- they go reaaaally fast. Also... beer.

Me: And the occasional boom boom. Nothing like a good car crash to make me want to drink more beer and love my life. 

Mitch: "WOW! It's so loud! Did you see tha- HEY, why doesn't my liver work?"

Me: "One beer for every lap!"

100 laps later...

"Uhhhsldnnskla;skjvienskladslkj!!!"

200 laps later...

Dead.

Mitch: I drink beer during nascar races because I don't get dizzy enough when I'm sober. 

Hey, wanna go shoot something afterwards?

Me: You mean dem hippies? Ja.

Mitch: Correction: Dam hippies. Dam mexicanos. Dam nigroes. 'member the confederation? Thems was good days.

Me: Them good days wen we had all dem der cotton. An now I cain't get up off dis dam porch. Dam yankees took all the moneys there wuz. 

Mitch: Slavry was a good thing two. It's in the Bible somewer.

Me: Yer got that right mister. Hey, pass the butter why don't ya? I ain't got enuf here on my butter cake.

Mitch: y'aint gonna deep fry that sucker first?

Me: I alredy done deep fried the butter and sugar befur I made the cake. And I put in dem friend pickles you like so much.

Mitch: thank'ya's'much darlin. you're the best fieansay/close relative I ever dun did have (toothless grin)

Me: I think nows the time to tell ya dat one of them chickens done peed on yur truck. Mind ya, I wus fit to be tied. But I cain't get that stain off. 

Mitch: S'aright. Times a'comin for a new 'n besides. i thnks i seed a new one at the junk'ard anyhows. Just give the yold'n to Jeheremihuh. Jethrow and I'll get the other'n after t'mar's nascar match

Me: I can't keep up with you. You're too good at this.

Mitch: Well you know... lots of practice. What else do you think we did at scout camp for 5 years?

You're welcome.

Pretty.

"You're really pretty."

I roll my eyes and take a deep breath. "Thanks," my obligatory response.

"No, you're like...really pretty."



The bathroom at the residence I'm staying at here in Paris has two incredibly large mirrors that almost take up the entire wall on opposite sides. The shower, which is in fact not a shower but a bathtub with an extension shower head, has no curtains. Every time I bathe, I am forced to stare at myself. All of myself.

It's a horrible experience, I can assure you.

And it's horrible because for as long as I can remember, I have struggled to appreciate one of the most precious gifts God has given me - my body. Feelings of anger, frustration, self-consciousness, and sometimes even hate have crippled my ability to see anything good of the 120 pounds of mass that I posses.

It's hard to say where these feelings come from. Society? Culture? Other's comments? Media? Mental illness? Satan? Maybe it stems from all of those factors, I'm not sure. I used to want to figure it out, but I've passed that point. Now, I just want it to stop. I want to stop being angry and frustrated and self-conscious and hateful. I want to stop being that feminist that advocates self-confidence and respect for ourselves but can't walk past the magazine stand without secretly wishing to even slightly resemble those photoshopped faces. I want to know what all those people know who believe their bodies are precious and special and love themselves just the way they are.

I want people to stop telling me I'm beautiful only on days when I'm wearing makeup or during those long stretches of time when I won't allow myself to eat over 1200 calories a day. Actually, I just want to stop feeling like I need to hear those messages all together.

I've heard the "You're really pretty" thing a hundred times, from strangers and close friends. I'm probably going to hear it a hundred more times. And the thing is, whether or not it comes from a place of love or pity or honesty, I'll probably never really listen. Not because people don't mean it, but because I don't believe it myself.

But every time I hear a,
"You're really smart."
"Wow, you're super talented!"
"Thank you for being so kind."
"You're a good friend, do you know that?"
my heart leaps a little. Sincere affirmations make me want to be a better person and to do good things. They help me to forget, if even for just a moment, that it's my soul I want to love and to be loved, not only the imperfect body that houses it.

I want less pressure to look beautiful and more encouragement to be beautiful.

I want to be more concerned with remembering to tell someone I love them than with trying to remember how many calories I consumed. I want find happiness in long walks, prayers, and music, not in the latest style trends, lipstick colors, and imitation of fake images. I don't even know if I want to learn how to love my body as much as I want to learn how to govern my life by the things that matter most.

My body is important, and I'm very grateful for it. I am grateful that God has allowed me to be strong and healthy. I will probably always struggle to hold it to God's standards instead of the world's or my own, but that is just something to learn I guess.







[I've shared this before, but I'm going to do it again because it's the best. So watch it. Now.]


The end.

 

Yolo.

Just so you know, I've got another blog going on while I'm in Paris. Check it out if you want ------> HERE.

Cool.

The "F" word.

Let me tell you a story.

On the last day of my mission, I traveled to Berlin to meet up with the other missionaries who were going to be flying home with me, all of which were Elders (missionaries of the male gender). Sitting in a room of the mission office surrounded by these Elders, I was more than a little uncomfortable, especially since I had been taught for 18 months to NEVER find myself in this situation. But alas, it could not be helped, and I sat there impatiently waiting my turn to have an interview with our mission president.

I'm not exactly sure how this next part came to pass, but I remember one Elder in particular, who must not be named and who I had not met previously, decided to brave the forbidden waters and engage me in seemingly light-hearted conversation. A little out of touch with talking to people of the opposite sex I suppose, he found it a perfect opportunity to tell me everything he had heard about me on the mission - every. single. rumor.

Not a minute had passed and several other Elders decided to pipe in similar feedback. Now, I'm not exactly surprised at what I heard. I knew I had a reputation for being outspoken, blunt, and lacking in basic social manners. Most Elders (and Sisters) had heard I was a "feminist," and subsequently, not fully understanding the meaning of this term, were terrified to meet me. But that never bothered me, mostly because people who had actually experienced a personal interaction with me tended to like me, or at least learned to not be offended by my presence.

But the way these Elders, people I had never met or spoken to, were talking to me about me made me feel so uneasy and, quite frankly, hurt. Every negative term that came out of their mouth was also associated with me being a "feminist," as if all feminists are terrifying, man-hating, rude liberal loud-mouths (the usual stereotypes that I apparently posses). And it hurt because I knew that this twisted image they had of me would forever have been ingrained into their souls as being associated with feminism, had they not had the opportunity to finally meet me and understand who I am and what I stand for. It hurt because they didn't understand this wonderful movement that had changed my life for the better, and they were mocking it in my presence.




Feminism has become a dirty word, my friends, and for this I am very sad.

I could go on and on about what the feminist movement really is and what's it's done for the world and blah blah blah. But you already know this. I talk about it everyday and I post about it everyday and whether you believe it or not, you are probably being exposed to feminist "propaganda" on a regular basis, even when you're not graced by my presence. And you know what? You probably agree with most of it. Let's be honest, who doesn't want a world where women are treated like human beings? The crazies, that's who. I don't need to defend the feminist movement as much as try to help you understand that if you have a brain that functions probably, you are probably a feminist too. 

The beauty of feminism is that it is really personal. Not every person who identifies with feminism agrees on every point! There's a place for everyone who desires gender equality.

I just want to tell you what feminism means to me.

Feminism has given me identity as a woman and has helped me to understand masculine identity. It has given me purpose and meaning in my life. It has given me the courage to stand up and say, "No, that is wrong." It has given me the courage to stand up and say, "Yes, this is me and yes, I believe this." My thoughts and feelings and opinions and hopes and dreams are all valid and real because I am a person and I deserve them. Feminism has taught me that I am equal to everyone, which has shaped the way I treat the people around me. It has helped me grow in my faith and helped me to understand how God sees me and who He wants me to become, and it has helped me to see what God sees in others.


I know I talk about this a lot, but I just wanted to put that out there. That is all.

To be discreet and chaste.

It's finally summer! Time to put away the heavy German winter garb, pull out my sunglasses, buy a bikini...what?

Now calm down people, I'm not buying a bikini. But the fact that you got a little worried about it is probably something we need to discuss.

Thanks to the sudden presence of the sun, it seems that everyone is getting themselves in a tizzy about one of my favorite words: modesty.

Actually I'm joking when I say that, in case you didn't pick that up. It's not one of my favorite words.

This is what the Church says about it:

"Modesty is an attitude of propriety and decency in dress, grooming, language, and behavior. If we are modest, we do not draw undue attention to ourselves.

If we are unsure about whether our dress or grooming is modest, we should ask ourselves, 'Would I feel comfortable with my appearance if I were in the Lord's presence?'

Prophets have always counseled us to dress modestly. This counsel is founded on the truth that the human body is God's sacred creation. We must respect our bodies as a gift from God. Through our dress and appearance, we can show the Lord that we know how precious our bodies are." 

All of that seems somewhat reasonable to me. I like it because it centers everything around my relationship with my Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I personally dress the way I do because I personally believe that I am showing respect to the body that God gave me...and all that jazz.

The interesting thing is that the Church gives guidelines for how we should dress. For example, we have (as women) been asked not to wear, "Revealing and sexually suggestive clothing, which includes short shorts and skirts, tight clothing, and shirts that do not cover the stomach," among other things. That's fine. I don't have any problems with that for myself. This is what I ABHOR:

1. Viewing those who don't follow these guidelines as "immodest," "indecent," or worse, as "sluts".
2. Using the word "slut."
3. Something that we discuss often in the feminist world known as "slut shaming." Look it up.

Modesty is quite often, especially in the beloved Mormon culture, equated with words like "chaste" and "pure" and "virtue." To illustrate a point, and since I'd rather not phrase it in my own words, I've collected words from a source that you probably trust more than my brain. The following quote is from the same website:

"Our clothing expresses who we are. It sends messages about us, and it influences the way we and others act. When we are well groomed and modestly dressed, we can invite the companionship of the Spirit and exercise a good influence on those around us.

Central to the command to be modest is an understanding of the sacred power of procreation, the ability to bring children into the world. This power is to be used only between husband and wife. Revealing and sexually suggestive clothing, which includes short shorts and skirts, tight clothing, and shirts that do not cover the stomach, can stimulate desires and actions that violate the Lord's law of chastity."

Bah. If that doesn't directly influence rape culture, I don't know what does.

Let's get a couple things straight.

What I WEAR is dependent upon ME and MY PERSONAL PREFERENCES. I do NOT wear "modest" clothes in order to NOT BE RAPED or NOT INFLUENCE IMMORALITY. I hear too often that women need to dress "appropriately" in order to "help" dudes not have "immoral thoughts."  Or whatever.

Listen to me, men. 

YOUR IMMORAL and OBJECTIFYING THOUGHTS ARE YOUR OWN DAMN PROBLEM. Don't you EVER blame a woman and her "indecency" for your obvious problems with sexuality.  

And to the women.

Do not let other people define your worth. Don't let them tell you that if you wear a bikini or a short skirt that you are worth less or that you are dirty or cheap. Don't let people tell you that you are "welcoming" inappropriate behavior from men or that you have just "objectified" yourself. But I do hope that you dress the way you do as empowerment for yourself, because you're comfortable in your style and in your body. I hope you don't dress for the sole purpose to receive any negative attention - you are better than that.

To quote a blog that I once read, 

"Modesty is not about what you wear, but about how you wear it."    

For more thoughts visit here.

ps. The blog title came from one of my favorite scriptures. Not. --- Titus2:5

“The more I read, the more I acquire, the more certain I am that I know nothing.”

Alright.

I'm very aware that my blog is getting more boring by the minute. I never have time to write and when I find time, I never have anything to say. Ok that's obviously not true, I always have something to say. But who wants to hear my feminist rants all the time? Oh yes, EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU.

I've been back from my mission for 3 months now. That's supposed to be a short amount of time but it feels like an eternity. I've been exerting every ounce of my strength trying to be "normal" again (whatever that means) and it's taking me FOREVER.

I'm going to share with you the life lessons I've learned since being home. And you are going to like it.

I know you all like lists:

1.) Catching up on the last year and a half is impossible. The second I got home I felt like everyone was saying, "Listen! These are all the things you missed! Hurry and catch up so we can be on the same page!" And then I was bombarded with information, music, images, and all the TV shows that ever existed.

I'm just going to be completely honest with you - I have no desire to see or hear or read about 90% of these things. If I happen upon them someday, sure. But I just don't have the time. Ok? Ok.

2.) I love Europe. I miss Europe. America just kind of grosses me out. It's probably just because I'm bias, but I just can't get over it. It's too hot and the bread is disgusting and everyone drives GINORMOUS cars everywhere and people are always smiling.

Good thing I'm fleeing to France.

3.) I'm terrified by how quickly I'm becoming desensitized to spiritual things. You'd think that after begging people for a year and a half to just read one tiny verse from the Book of Mormon or the Bible everyday that it would be easier for you to keep your own commitments. FALSE. When did real life start complicating lives? Why do I let real life interfere with things I understand to be of precedence? Something needs to change.

4.) You can never be too grateful for your awesome family and your amazing friends. I don't know what I'd do without them. I think the best part of coming home was realizing that nothing has really changed - sure, everyone is in different phases of their life now, but these people still know me and love me and we picked up right where we left off. I love that. You are all the best. The end.

5.) I don't know who I am anymore.

The mission really shook me. It took me a while to find my groove and even then I was always questioning myself and beating myself up over the smallest things. I came home to find that I can adapt those practices to everything in my new life. I have never felt so sure of my identity and at the same time never so lost. The only thing keeping me sane are the above-mentioned blessed people and prayer. It's ridiculous. I wish I could move on from this.




Enough with the cheese.


It's late = the only reason I'm barfing up my soul through my fingertips onto this keyboard.

I won't keep this blog up if nobody tells me what to write about. So tell me. Now.

Goodnight.

Listen (continued).

Alright.

I promised I would express my post-mission feelings about women in the church. Avec plaisir, my friends.

I identify myself as a Mormon Feminist. No, I don't need to use this title. But I like it - it's a precise summary of exactly who I am.

I believe men and women are equal in the eyes of God. Radical, I know. This belief has fueled my passions specifically in the direction of international women's rights, but I support all movements that strive for equality among men and women.

In the context of the gospel of Jesus Christ, I believe women are equal. Within the Mormon church, I believe we have work to do. And yes, I do see them separately.

Throughout the Bible there are evidences of women as priestesses, judges, and leaders. Christ himself held women in a position of preeminence. They were present at every stage of his life - Mary his mother, Anna the Prophetess, Mary, Martha, the countless women he healed, etc. They were the last ones with him as he died on the cross, and to Mary Magdalene, a woman, he first appeared after his Resurrection. After Christ's Ascension, women played very important roles in the early beginnings of Christianity (see here).

This is a picture of the prominent leaders of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.



They are all very good people. They also happen to be all men, most of which are white Americans. I find this a bit troubling, considering that most of the members of the church are not American, and at least half of them are women.

This, as we are all aware, has to do with priesthood authority, something that women at the present time do not posses. If you have interest in reading more about the potential for women's ordination, please click here. Although I am sympathetic to the cause of ordination of women to the priesthood, my personal concerns with the church do not at present lie in priesthood ordination policies and procedures.

I am concerned that there are not more leadership positions within the church for women, even when there could be. I am concerned that prescribing gender roles can inhibit men and women from exploring their divine qualities and talents. I am concerned that cultural habits within the church promote inappropriate behaviors and discourage diversity.

I know my worth. I know that I am equal in the eyes of God. I am a proud member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

And I am not ashamed of asking questions.




Fellow Mormon Feminists:
Feminist Mormon Housewives
Young Mormon Feminists
Ask Mormon Girl

If you have any questions or comments, please respond below. I'd love your feedback.