My Position in the Pants Movement

When I was in junior high and high school, my coaches frequently asked us to wear dresses to school on game day because it would help us think about the game. My coaches—some male, some female—understood that when we dress differently, we think differently. When we dress in better clothes, we act better.

That's why I will be wearing a dress to church this Sunday and every other Sunday for the rest of my life.

A lot of women won't be wearing a dress on Sunday. Which is, you know, fine. The Church doesn't say it isn't. Some church members will make a fuss, but those people make a fuss about a lot of things. I choose to wear a dress because dressing nicer than I do every other day is an important part of my Sabbath worship. Wearing a dress makes me feel more in touch with the God-given feminine qualities I have. Those qualities empower me.

I have friends who I respect very much who are joining the movement and wearing pants to church. They say they feel inferior because of a lot of different issues and feel that wearing pants will be their own little way of saying, "I want to be heard. I want to be noticed. I want things to be better for women in our church."

I've read my friends' thoughts and opinions. And I genuinely feel that they come from a good place. I completely understand their desire to start a conversation about something that bothers them.

And can I be real for a moment? There are some things about the culture of the Church that bother me too. Sometimes I wish we would all call the Relief Society president "President" rather than "Sister." I wish the Young Womanhood Recognition Award was made as big of a deal as the Eagle Scout Award. I wish there were more female authors in LDS bookstores. But wearing pants doesn't seem to me like it's addressing any of those things.

Do you mind if I share another story?

I was a Mia Maid (14- 15-year-old girl) and one of my leaders did something that made me feel stupid and hurt. I went home in tears and told my mom about it. It was horrible. But never for one millisecond did it cross my mind to stop going to church. I've known since I was nine years old that Joseph Smith was who he said he was and that the Book of Mormon and the Church that espouses it are true. That is deeply ingrained in my heart. I have a testimony of God and I know that He is my Father. I know that Jesus Christ is the Redeemer of the World and my personal Savior.

That's why I go to church. I don't go for a Mia Maid teacher.

So I shake my head when people say they left the Church—or even struggle with the doctrines of the Church—because of an opinionated Sunday School teacher or an inattentive bishop. Or because the Young Womanhood Recognition Award isn't as big of a deal as an Eagle Scout Award. If we go to Church strictly for the people or the programs, it's time to pray a little harder and dig a little deeper.

The "Wear Pants to Church" thing is, as I understand from my embarrassingly thorough research, meant to address these cultural aspects of the Church that can (and probably should) change. I honestly believe a lot of these people have strong testimonies of the gospel, and that's why they're not leaving. They just want some things to change. But as I've studied and prayed, I've found my answer to how I should react to all of this.

And in order to share it with you, I need to share one last story.

I was almost nineteen years old and visiting my parents' ward. I remember one of my good friends, Michael, was just coming out of the bishop's office. He was glowing. His mission papers had just been submitted.

I remember the feelings I had. I looked at Michael, who was just two months older than me. I remembered the Seminary classes we'd taken together. The Sunday School classes. The mutual activities. The firesides. He and I had received virtually identical spiritual training outside our homes. Moreover, I had grown magnificently in my testimony since I left home. I learned to study the scriptures and I had heartfelt conversations with my Father in Heaven. I was coming to understand more about the gospel. And as I watched Michael come out of the bishop's office prepared to share the gospel with people throughout the world, I desperately wanted to do the same.

I remember asking the bishop, half-jokingly but not really, if we could bend the rules and get me out on a mission when I turned 19. He couldn't, of course. Women weren't eligible for missionary service until they were 21.

But if that had happened today, it would have been different. When President Monson announced that women would now be eligible for missionary service at age 19, I couldn't hold in my tears. They flowed and flowed and I wiped my face and I hugged my husband and especially my daughter. I couldn't go on a mission when I was 19, but she can, if she wants to.

I watched the press conference after that session of General Conference. Elder Holland addressed the concern that women should be called to serve for 24 months, like the men are, instead of the traditional 18. To that, Elder Holland so wisely and articulately replied, "One miracle at a time."

As I thought and prayed about this movement, Elder Holland's words were my answer. Cultural failings will change on the Lord's timetable as faithful women live up to their privileges. I read on one website that women feel unequal when they don't see more female LDS authors. So they're starting a movement to talk about how they feel unequal. Me? I'm becoming an LDS author. And not because I want to prove a point; because I genuinely want to do it. (I am 34,999 words into the second draft of my 69,705-word biographical creative nonfiction LDS book. I'll have to tell you more about it sometime.)

The doctrines of the gospel of Jesus Christ bless men and women equally. There is no blessing my husband can receive that I can't. Yes, there are blessings—like the sealing of our eternal family—that I can't receive without him. But here's the part so many people seem to have forgotten—he can't receive those blessings without me, either.

One of the things I love most about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is that men and women are truly spiritually equal before God. Any problems I have had with any of it have been cultural, in no way tied to Jesus Christ, whose Church this really is. When I truly remember Jesus Christ, my concerns don't seem so big. They don't disappear, but they shrink back into perspective.

As part of my studying and soul-searching on the topic, I came across David A. Bednar's talk "Converted unto the Lord." At one point, he said, "Conversion requires all of our heart, all of our might, and all of our mind and strength."

I dedicated a lot of time and thought to this whole thing a couple days ago. And here I am again, addressing the issue. As I do, I feel my might, mind and strength tiring. It's taking a lot of energy out of me that I could be using to do so much more. Energy I could use to serve others, to make good decisions for my family with my husband, to attend the temple, to study the scriptures, to better myself in every way.

And isn't that what this whole feminism thing is supposed to be about? Making things better?

So I guess what I'm trying to say is that I am a disciple of Jesus Christ. I have questions. I hope to see positive change in the world and in my culture. But I'm starting where I think I can do the most good. And for me, that's not in the chapel, wearing pants.