I was raised in Provo, Utah with forward-thinking parents who encouraged me to read, think, and explore the world. They regularly told me I was capable of doing anything I wanted. That message was often at odds with experiences in my LDS ward. I was only six or seven when I began questioning why my older brothers could pass the sacrament, be a witness at a baptism, and collect fast offerings, while these were things out of my reach.
This inequality affected me deeply, yet I still sought to understand the church’s stand on women, our role, and our relationship to the priesthood. The idea that motherhood and the priesthood are somehow synonymous seemed illogical to me (and diminished fatherhood). I knew I didn’t want to be on a pedestal; I just wanted to be on the same level. I looked, but I just couldn’t find a good reason for the status quo.
So I listened with particular interest in 1992 when President Hinckley gave a talk to women that quoted a letter he had received from a 14-year-old girl that essentially asked if God loved girls as much as he loved boys. I remember him saying that he couldn’t understand how any girl could possibly feel that way. And I remember thinking. “Wait a minute—that’s how I have felt for years!” As he went on to explain how women and men are equal in the church, I struggled with his choice to call the young writer “Virginia,” and couldn’t help but think of the other famous letter from a girl about Santa Claus and the false reassurance that Santa did indeed exist. Was this response just a way to placate women with a fantasy? “Yes, Virginia, there is a God that loves you just as much as he loves boys.”
About that time I finished my PhD and began to work at a major university. In my work I am treated with respect. My ideas are valued. I am a leader, and have every opportunity that the men at my institution have. That, unfortunately, is not true in my church world. I served as relief society president with a wonderful and good bishop and probably had more autonomy than most RS Presidents, but I was always aware that he was ultimately in control. I saw the opportunities the boys had to do real work in the church and asked if some of the young women could be visiting teachers. My request was taken to the stake presidency and denied. I am currently a primary teacher and I sit silently during sharing time instead of singing “a father’s place is to preside, provide” and “a mother’s purpose is to care, prepare.” This kind of false dichotomy is damaging to both boys and girls.
Every organization I have ever been a part of is better when everyone has an equal place at the table. That table should include women. It should include my LGBTQ brothers and sisters (who should have all of the civil rights that I enjoy). I recently read an article written by a woman who did palliative care for the dying. She wrote about the things the dying said they regretted. At the top of the list was not living an authentic life and not having had the courage to express their true feelings. I can no longer be silent about distinctions between men and women that did not exist in the early days of the church, and that have no reason to exist now. I believe women should be ordained.