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.

"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.

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.