When we were using the Joseph F. Smith manual for Relief Society a few years ago, I remember reading a note in the intro material about Smith’s use of “men”, “man”, or “mankind”:
“Also, President Smith often used terms such as men, man, or mankind to refer to all people, both male and female. He frequently used the pronouns he, his, and him to refer to both genders. This was common in the language of his era. Despite the differences between these language conventions and current usage, President Smith’s teachings apply to both women and men.”
What a nice note, I thought, and how helpful it is to clarify that I should read myself into the lessons, even if it doesn’t seem like he was talking to me. And then, I read on:
“The priesthood held by man is the power and authority of God delegated to man on earth to act in all things for the salvation of mankind.”
Oh. Nevermind.
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In a testimony meeting the other day our second counselor included, in his testimony, heartfelt praise of the “youth” of our ward. He said they’re impressive (which they are!), kind (which they are!), and faithful at fulfilling their priesthood duties. My ward’s youth are impressive and kind, yes, but only the young men are faithful at fulfilling their priesthood duties. I’m not a Young Woman any longer, but even as a Grown Woman sitting in that meeting, his last sentence was a splash of cold water to my warm appreciation of his praise for the youth: oh. Nevermind.
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I could go on with example after example, as could you, I’m sure, if you’re a woman in the church. Or, actually, I’m sure you could if you’re an English-speaking woman, period: our language is rife with usages of ‘man’ and ‘he’ that, while technically gender-neutral grammatically and in terms of their historical origin, still bias us towards thinking about men. (Try this out: Man breastfeeds his young. Grammatically correct, but, if you’re like me, semantically odd.)
The examples are often not offensive on their own, or a very big deal on an individual level. And yet, in the aggregate, they make me wonder: do I count? This is especially true of the modern examples: it’s much easier to forgive Joseph F. Smith this kind of language than the modern Church, claiming in an official press release that “fully one-half of its youth” live in places where Scouting is not available. (It’s much easier to do the math, apparently, if you ignore the girls.)
I’m smart, I’m educated, I’m thoughtful, and, so, even if there is no consistent heuristic to dictate when I should think of myself as part of “men” and when I shouldn’t, I can usually figure it out. (Usually, that is: sometimes it’s a genuinely tricky question; FAIR has spilled a lot of ink over whether women can be sons of perdition.) I can write myself into the script, even if it’s unclear whether or not the part could cast someone like me. Still, though every time I decide I’m in the script, I run the risk of the experiences above, and their subtle reminders that the director doesn’t think so.
This isn’t my main feminist grievance or my highest-priority ask, but still, it matters. That day in testimony meeting, with the n-millionth reminder of this kind of exclusion, I went home in tears. That makes me sound overly delicate, or eagerly taking offensive, but really, it’s less this single incident and more a lifetime of these incidents, and honestly? It’s exhausting. This kind of interpretation is extra mental energy that I, and all the other women out there, have to spend, just one more ounce in the mental load of being a Mormon woman, one small tax to pay for not being the default, for being something ever-so-slightly ‘other’, for being an auxiliary rather than an actor.
Thanks for articulating this Petra. I tried to explain these extra mental gymnastics to my (throroughly modern) husband, and suggested that he read through the D&C and determine when the use of he/man meant all humanity and when it just meant men. I suggested he started in section 132 and work backwards (which was pretty mean of me, I suppose). He gave it a fair shot, but agreed after an evening that a) it would be exhausting to do that constantly, b) it isn’t always clear, and c) no wonder I often felt a bit cranky about it. So now, rather than cringing, he joins in when I loudly gender neutralise the hymns in sacrament meeting. True love!
There was a counselor in a bishopric once who gave me a bad time about putting in “woman” or “humankind” when I was reading scripture or GA quotations aloud. And then one day, I chose “As Sisters in Zion” for the closing hymn for Sacrament Meeting. He was appalled. I let him splutter for a few minutes about how wrong it was to exclude half the congregation from the hymn and how confusing it was for him and just generally how awful for him to have to just _guess_ that brethren were included with sisters, or else sing different words. And then I showed him that in all three of the other hymns we had sung as a congregation that day, the sisters had to imagine themselves into “man” “brother,” etc. He got very quiet, and about two years later he thanked me.
I am trying to combat my own internalized invisibility, and I just can’t take the micro-pokes anymore. It’s a place of major inflammation for me right now. It’s exhausting even to read about other’s experiences with it. I know that many men and more than a few women would call me out for being a drama queen for it. I used to be like those women; intentionally blind to my own erasure. I did it for good reasons, as we all do: to gain access to God, whom we love and need contact with. I just can’t do that anymore, but I’m hesitant to open someone else’s eyes to it. I wouldn’t wish the pain of impotent invisibility on anyone. Still, it validates me when others have the courage to expose it.
You know, sometimes I just feel guilty for being a man.
When I was the RS music leader I always wanted to do a special sacrament meeting musical number by the RS sisters: “Ye Elders of Israel” only change it to “Ye Sisters of Israel.” I wonder how it would have gone over.
Author Petra, thank you for your blog post.Really thank you! Awesome.
I remember coming to this realization a few years ago. Rather than assume the use of “man” is mostly gender neutral, I assume it mostly isn’t. Women are scripturally invisible by design, not accident, and scriptural writings (while divinely inspired for the most part) represent dialogues from men to an imagined male audience. We feel like interlopers because we are.
I”m unsure how your response doesn”t just amount to tone policing, but I will suppose it doesn”t. My point was that EB”s original post was both condescending and paternalistic toward the students (nevermind the also apparent fact that it is condescending toward “those who believe that students see the real us” and are thus impressed). Condescension and paternalism warrant many responses, and it is not always constructive and respectful ones. And I”m guessing you”re spotting misogyny in the last paragraph of my post. But remember what the force of that paragraph is: to make a point about how condescending it would be to assert those things straightforwardly. The paragraph itself is pretty obviously not asserted straightforwardly. Any misogyny in it should also not be viewed as expressed straightforwardly. Also, if you could point to the part where EB was being self-deprecating, and then explain to me how she was *as* self-deprecating as other-deprecating, I”d appreciate it. I think both claims are absurd, frankly. 4 4 Report