I was pregnant with Stuart, my third (and last) child when I decided I wanted to get a Ph.D. By the time he was three months old, I had already started my coursework. It was invigorating. I was excited to be reading and writing and learning and stretching myself in so many ways. A couple of years into my program, my advisor encouraged me to submit one of my papers to local conference and they accepted it.
As the date of the conference approached, I stood in my closet one night and wondered what I would wear. I pulled aside hanger after hanger of dresses and knee-length skirts, mumbling to myself or to Brent, “This won’t work,” “Too dowdy,” “Too floral,” “Too Molly,” or “Too casual,” “Too denim,” “Too informal.” I was supposed to look professional, and I simply had nothing to wear. If I had worn any of the clothes in my closet, I would have looked completely out of place.
So I went to the mall. I felt like a fish out of water. Nothing looked right. Those clothes didn’t feel like me. I was either a mom or a teacher. And teachers didn’t wear fancy business suit-type stuff. And my mom jeans and t-shirts obviously wouldn’t work. We left the mall, with a couple outfits that I thought might work.
The morning of the conference, I put on my wanna-be academic power pants. I felt strong and confident and smart.
When the next Sunday rolled around and I pulled out one of those hangers and put on one of my Mormon mom dresses, I was surprised by the disconnect between the way I had felt in those pants and the way I felt in my church outfit. The dress I had on made me feel small, weak and submissive.
But I buried that feeling and continued wearing skirts and dresses because, you see, Mormon women don’t rock the boat. When they do, they get excommunicated. I was at BYU when the September Six were excommunicated. I remember feeling scared to go to VOICE meetings and scared to speak out for greater equality for women. Scared to stand up for what I knew was right. Scared right out of participating. Scared, in 1993, to be excommunicated from my church for being a feminist.
I presented at more conferences, always in pants. Over the next couple years, I began to associate formal occasions with pants. Not knee-length skirts or dresses.
During the week I was learning about critical theory, feminist theory, and post-modernism. I was learning to think critically. I remember feeling a sense of expansion and progression. But on Sundays, I felt like I regressed. I became small and weak again. I worried about what would happen if I started wearing pants. Here’s the truly sad part. I wondered what kind of ramifications there might be for Brent in terms of current of future priesthood callings if he had a wife who wore pants. I wondered if my choice to wear pants might get him released from the high council (a leadership position in our church). One night, I actually apologized to him for being who I am. I told him I hoped he wouldn’t look back, years from then, and feel resentful towards me if my feminist ways/behaviors/views had kept him from getting “important” church callings. He scoffed and told me I shouldn’t worry about that. (He’s a good one, that Cheap-Seater.)
One Sunday, I decided I was done with that game. If I wanted to look my best for church on Sunday, that now meant pants. Remembering this “event” is like reaching back into the far recesses of a previous life; it feels so foreign to me now. I remember feeling so nervous just thinking about it. What would people think? What would people say? I stewed about it for days (whah! Talk about wasted mental energy!). I asked Brent what he thought about it. He knows better than to try to tell me what to wear, so he didn’t. He said, as tactfully as he could, that I should do whatever I wanted.
I had to do it. I was a 30-something year old woman who was scared to wear pants to a church service-in the 21st century!
So I got up that Sunday and put on a pair of sleek black pants. I pulled on a spiffy button-up shirt. I even put on a necklace (ooh, aah). I stood in the closet in front of a full-length mirror. I asked myself: Heather, are you really gonna do this?
One of my girls came running in while I ruminated in my closet and stopped short and said, “Whoa, mom, are you going to a conference?? I thought it was Sunday.” I said, “No, I’m going to church. I’m just wearing pants.” She disapproved, I could tell, but I just said, “Don’t you think I look nice? I feel like I look nice.” She said, “Oh, yeah, okay. You look nice, it’s just . . . weird.”
So off I went, to church. Luckily, this whole story is kind of cheating because we attended a Spanish-speaking “grupo” (not an official “congregation” yet because it was too small) in an urban area of Baton Rouge-the most diverse Mormon ward I’ve ever attended. More than half of the members were African American or Hispanic. The sacrament was once blessed by a man in a Raiders t-shirt. Another time, someone passed the sacrament in a t-shirt that said: “Top 10 Reasons I’m a Catholic.”
It was a great feeling. I wasn’t worried about flashing people in my skirt as I did “Once Upon a Snowman” or “Do As I’m Doing” with the kids in primary. I didn’t worry about my dress flapping up as I escorted a squawking Stuart out of a meeting. So that settled it. Pants became the norm for me after that.
When we moved to Nacogdoches, we actually talked-at length-about what I would or wouldn’t wear the first Sunday we went to church. I worried what people who think about me if I wore pants. I worried about whether my pants-wearing would cause social problems for the kids. I worried that people would judge me and not want to be friends with us. Despite my reservations, I wore pants.
We attended church the first Sunday and endured the usual stuff. Friendly people approached us to shake hands and introduce themselves. No one said anything about my pants or even looked askance at me. Or, if they did, I was oblivious. After about a year or so, a man did approach my husband and handed him an article he had printed out from a church publication about modest dress for women. Brent graciously took the article, looked at the title and laughed at him and said, “Is this for Heather? Uhh, I don’t tell Heather what to wear.”
It’s been a few years since I first wore pants. When saw a pants event page on FB a few days ago, I laughed out loud. It seemed like such a silly thing. But then I remembered those scared feelings I’ve carried around with me for most of my adult life. Scared of speaking out, scared of others’ judgment, scared of marginalization, scared of being “called in” to the bishop’s office, scared of being reprimanded, scared of my kids being rejected because of their mom, scared of defying authority, scared of rocking the boat.
Even more important, I remembered how awesome I felt when I donned those sleek business pants at that first conference. And then I remembered how I felt the first time I wore them to church. I felt like I’d reclaimed a tiny shard of personal agency and independence. A tiny piece of power that had once been mine, but that I had somehow ceded to an unnamed person or institution or office.
I will not cede that kind of power or control or agency to anyone ever again.
And I don’t want to diminish the importance of that process for any of the other Mo-feminists out there who want to wear pants-or who want to hold the priesthood, or who want to be equal to their husbands, or who want to be able to administer sacred ordinances to their fellow church members, or who want to pray aloud to their Mother in Heaven, or who want to be able to be in charge of a dang church meeting or activity without getting approval from an all-male priesthood, or who want to be able to be in the church building without a male “chaperone” (yes, this is actually still required), or who want equal budgeting for Activity Days and Scouts, or or or or or . . .
And more than anything, I want my daughters and my son to know that they don’t have to cede that kind of power or authority or control to anyone, ever.
So yeah, I’ll wear pants on Sunday, like I always do. It won’t feel like a “protest” at all; it’ll just feel like another Sunday to me-except that I’ll be remembering all the other Mo-feminists out there who are scared. I’ll be standing right there with you.
Thanks for the background, this gives me some insights.
The part about the man giving the magazine article *to your husband* is both hilariously funny and very sad.
Ah yes. Too bad it didn’t end there for him. He has made COUNTLESS remarks to me about my pants–even after being told, in very clear language, to NOT talk to me about my clothes. It’s nutters.
Great article, Heather. I was an unbeliever before I ever wore pants to an LDS church. I do it most of the time now when I attend to watch or listen to one of my children or my husband so, I too, will not be making a statement with my clothes this Sunday but I will be there and I will be thinking of all those gals wearing pants to church for the first time.
Loved this! I’m a bit embarrassed to admit that I never once wore pants in all the years I went to church, even though there were many times I wanted to. I wish I had. I did, however, rock sleeveless dresses every chance I could get, because there’s nothing wrong with arms, dangit!
I LOL’d on this one: ” Another time, someone passed the sacrament in a t-shirt that said: “Top 10 Reasons I’m a Catholic.”
That line made me laugh, too!
I’m buying my first church slacks tomorrow. I’m ready.
Weird thing is that my own work experience has been kind of the flip side of the typical church experience. I never wore dresses or skirts to work because I wanted to be taken seriously, and I had always been taught that women who wore dresses at work were somehow less serious or too sexy or I don’t even know what. But about 5 years ago I started wearing dresses and skirts to work from time to time, and now I wear them almost exclusively because they are so comfortable. Also because it is 90% humidity in this godforsaken place.
Interesting, Ang. It’s all about context. I’m guessing that I may have seen less than 5 women in skirts in nearly 5 years attending conferences as a professor. It’s just not done. Now, some women do wear skirts (but probably not dresses) to work here at my university. It’s hot much of the time and they’re comfortable (for some, I hate them) and this is the south, so that’s perfectly fine. But at national conferences? Nope.
Working as one of 4 female engineers in a company with about 60 engineers, I hardly ever wear skirts to work. Even worse, I never dress up in a skirt, even for business meetings. I’m also very young, and I’ve always been afraid I won’t be taken seriously. This year’s Christmas party was the first year I wore a skirt in front of my co-workers. It was a very professional one, but I was so nervous. Funny thing…
Bought my purple tie tonight. About 1/50th of the message of a women in pants but at least it’s something. I’ll be blown away if any women in my very conservative Utah ward wear pants but I can hope. I feel like a voice in the wilderness when I speak up on equality issues in Church. My wife doesn’t consider herself a Mormon but she said she would come to Church and wear pants if I wanted her too. Hmmm. Pants as a missionary tool.
Pants as a missionary tool–ha ha!
Good for you Heather! I remember my first home teaching gig I did with a retired gentleman in my ward. There was a lady we visited that hadn’t been to church in years because she didn’t feel comfortable in dresses or skirts, and had been shunned or scoffed at because she wore pants to church. This was the mid 80’s, but I remember thinking as a 14 year old boy how rediculous it seemed to me that if she dressed nicely and in a way she felt comfortable that she would be shunned. I have since had a half a lifetime (for a man) of experience with how normative things are, and how dangerous it feels to step out of the norm. My support is likewise with all my pants wearing or skirt wearing sisters. Go ladies!
Thanks for sharing your pants-wearing history with us. I am currently where you once were: I want to wear pants, but I’m afraid to. And it’s so ridiculous that a woman in her mid thirties in this day and age would be afraid of something so meaningless and innocuous. But pressure to conform to social norms is strong in the church.
I’m grateful that when I’m the only woman in my conservative Utah ward wearing pants this Sunday that I will know there will be women out there rooting for me, who will know how I’m feeling, and who are lending me their courage in solidarity. Go Mo-Fems!
Menner,
I’m a little scared and a lot nervous about this Sunday. My first time wearing pants hilariously (maybe fortuitously?) coincides with my first SM talk in a new ward. We’re all in this with you.
So I’ve never been particularly bothered by women wearing pants to church, or people wearing whatever they wanted in general. When I served a mission, I told people to wear what they’d feel most comfortable wearing if they were to meet God (with the caveat that people do tend to dress nicely, in case they would feel more comfortable blending in). And I’ve always worn what I wanted – fishnets and “hooker” heels (as my mom calls them) being my preferred choice.
Therefore, I’m finding this new movement to be a little weird. It’s strange to me that there’s some sort of defiance involved, like people are throwing off the shackles of the church. As the subject of the article noted, most people don’t care and the ones who do aren’t worth listening to. If you want to wear pants, just do it – why all the fuss and facebook groups?
I also want to say, on a slightly different vein, that I’m an educated, intelligent, feminist woman. But I like skirts. I’m comfortable in skirts, and frankly I like showing off my legs. I’m peeved by the sense that I get from the article that wearing dresses or skirts is somehow a sign of submission or weakness. Let’s not give skirts/dresses a power they don’t have – they’re just articles of clothing, wearable by people of both genders.
Hi, Susan. I worried about putting out that message in the blog post and am sorry that you received it that way. I don’t think that’s necessarily the case, but it is the case with me. And I was writing about my own personal experience with pants vs. skirts.
But yeah, I of course don’t think there’s necessarily anything wrong with dresses/skirts OR that wearing skirts is a sign of weakness.
I DO think that cultural norms–like the ones being exposed by this whole crazy pants drama–are important. And that clearly, women’s wardrobe choices are important cultural markers (or not) in the church.
Thanks for your response. I’m sad that people have felt what you initially felt – that hesitation or fear about being judged or unwelcome for something as subjective as “appropriate” apparel. I’ve always been somewhat of a loner, so for me it’s no big deal if people disapprove of my clothes as long as I feel like Heavenly Father is okay with me! But I can appreciate that not everyone feels that way.
I’ll stick with skirts myself, but I can get behind and understand the need to examine norms and make sure that we’re living GOSPEL-centered lives, and not being driven by the culture that builds up around any religion.
It’s not really about pants, is it? It’s about choice and ownership, about feeling empowered to wear clothes that you like instead of a rigid gender uniform. It seems small, but it’s huge when you consider what a battleground the female body can be.
I feel stuffy and frumpy in dress pants, I am a skirt and dress lady all the way. But I had a similarly revelatory and empowering experience when I decided to disregard the church’s ever expanding rubric for determining and enforcing modesty. The small act of choosing what I wanted to wear based on my own standard of modesty was very healing and liberating.
You’re right, Heidi. It’s not just about pants, but they are symbols of women’s choice and empowerment. For women who haven’t worn pants, wearing them is a step in declaring that you’re ready to confront meaningless gender differences and make other choices based upon your abilities and talents. Who knows? We may see women in pants administering the sacrament, leading meetings, holding events without supervision. As they say about marijuana, it’s a gateway drug! Wear pants and the pillars of the temple will fall! I wish you all success. The time has come and you are the pioneers of this change.
Go for it! Aunt Marilyn
I love this post, Heather. Many years ago at work I did a presentation on norms… and I wore one of Sheila’s dresses. Seeing someone break a norm helps to point out the norm, and gives people more of a chance to consider the value of the norm.
And as far as we know, Jesus wasn’t much of a pants man.
I finally had a chance to read this! You are a beautiful writer Heather. Thank you so much for sharing your experiences and just for being YOU! You are amazing and wonderful and I love you!
This past Sunday was the first time I wore pants. And it was a hard decision for many of the reasons you outlined. I just finished serving as ward RS President, and I felt an even extra “duty” to “represent Mormons ideals” (blech, whatever that means!). In the end, I realized that this is exactly the reason I needed to wear pants. To show that an active Mormon woman can also be a feminist. I felt very empowered, and it was one of the best Sundays in my life. I just wish more people in my area (southern AZ) had heard about pants day, so that they would’ve known why I was wearing pants that day. I will continue to wear pants periodically to church.
In our NY ward several of the women wore pants. I had a relative visiting from Utah and her only comment from the RS lesson was that she couldn’t believe the Sister giving the lesson wore pants :-) I simply said, that pants wearing sister brought me dinner and took my kids for two days while I was in the hospital. Quite frankly I don’t care if she comes to church in her underwear!