Do you ever get into an argument and while you are having the argument you realize that the thing you are arguing about isn’t really the thing you are angry about?
That happened to me last weekend.
My ward holds an annual summer potluck dinner at a pavilion. The pavilion is next to an LDS church building. It’s not the building we attend. For many years it was a building in our stake. Three years ago the boundaries were redrawn and now the building is in a different stake. This is the only LDS owned pavilion in the city so we are still able to use the pavilion for our ward potluck.
There have never been issues with scheduling the pavilion and being able to use it.
Getting a key to the building though, that’s been quite the ordeal.
Two years ago I was very upset when I showed up to the potluck, and found that the building was locked. I couldn’t take my children inside to use the bathroom. I’m not sure what happened with getting a key for the building. Did the Elders Quorum members who were in charge of the activity just not think anyone would need to use the bathroom? Did they try to get a key from someone in the other stake, but they weren’t able to? I don’t know.
I do know that I was angry. A few members learned that I know some choice swear words. I drove my kids to a nearby McDonalds so they could use the bathroom there. When I came back I just stayed in the car because I was so upset. My husband brought me a plate of food. I ate in the car and watched several people cross the parking lot and try to open the door to the building. I saw several children run to the bushes when they couldn’t get into the building. I couldn’t believe that something as necessary as a bathroom had been overlooked by the event planners.
By the next year my husband had been called to be the Elder’s Quorum Activity Coordinator. He loves this calling. I loved that I could remind him that we really needed a key to the building. He asked about it and was promised that somebody’s brother or something would be there at the church to unlock it.
The night of the potluck I was watching that door like a hawk. No one came to unlock it. The activity had already started and that brother of someone in the ward hadn’t shown up yet. I’m not sure if he ever showed up. I noticed someone walk by the door inside the building. I went over and pounded on the door until a teenage boy came over and opened it. I have no idea why he was in the building – but I didn’t care because he let us in. There would be no peeing in bushes this time.
Last week, as we were preparing for this year’s potluck, my husband and I were talking about the key problem. This time he wasn’t relying on somebody’s word that their brother or friend or whoever would be there. He wanted to hear from someone directly that they would be there to unlock the door. He called at least four different people trying to track down someone who had a key and would be able to unlock the door on a Saturday evening.
He finally found a person who said he would be there.
I was skeptical. The track record for this was not looking good. I wanted to make a sign to put on the door that said, “Brother _____ from the ______ ward is responsible for unlocking this door. If it is not open please call him at _______.” My husband told me that was rude.
This was when we started arguing. I said it was incredibly rude to lock people out of a building. It was rude to say we could use the pavilion, but then not give us access to the bathrooms. It was rude to ignore our need for access.
I finished with something along the lines of “I don’t care what his priesthood calling is. He needs to be held accountable and show up for people.”
And that’s when I realized that my anger over this minor issue was not about doors and keys. It was about the greater issue of a church that makes it impossible for me to express my frustrations over big problems.
Just that week the new policies regarding transgender members had been released. I was sad as I read an article in the Salt Lake Tribune describing the changes. Transgender members can no longer teach and they can’t work with children. Transgender youth cannot stay overnight at camps and Youth Conferences. They need an escort to make sure the bathroom is vacant and stays empty while they are using the bathroom.
As far as I know, there aren’t any transgender individuals in my ward. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t any. I want to be a good ally, but feel voiceless in the face of these policies. I don’t know what to say or who to talk to. I don’t know what my bishop or Stake President personally think about LGBTQ individuals. Even if they agree with me, they really have no way to really change anything. The policy is in the handbook. What can they do about it? I have no way of reaching the people who actually wrote it.
The way I feel about the new policy is the way I felt when I sat outside that locked building. I was waiting for anyone to show up and unlock the door. I had no way to contact the people I needed to contact. And if I could call them they would just brush me aside. Why was I calling? What authority did I have? Was I in charge of anything? I was just some lady out there with children who needed to use the bathroom who would rather not resort to the bushes.
My husband assured me that if the building wasn’t unlocked by 5:00 he would personally call the man until he showed up. In the end it actually didn’t matter because some teenagers showed up to play basketball around 4:50. They had an adult with them who unlocked the door. I rushed across the parking lot yelling, “Leave it unlocked, we need it unlocked. The person who was going to unlock it for us hasn’t shown up yet.”
As I got to the door I heard a man say from his car, “Oh I’m right here.” I don’t know why that man had arrived, saw 10 or so people setting up for an activity at the pavilion, and chose to just sit in his car. He didn’t come over and talk to us. He didn’t unlock the door. He’d just sat there.
I was happy we were able to successfully get into the building, but I just couldn’t get over the image of that man sitting in his car when he was perfectly able to unlock the door for us.
That’s how these new policies about transgender individuals feel. It feels like the church is sitting in their car and refusing to do anything to help. They aren’t interested in creating more love and inclusion. They aren’t willing to look at the science. They aren’t willing to seek revelation. They are just sitting and doling out hateful policies that prevent people from fully participating in the church.
I wish I had the ability to unlock the door myself. Or that I could break in without serious ramifications. Maybe the answer is to no longer use this building. Maybe I can start a petition for a pavilion to be built in my stake. What if we stopped using this pavilion and paid to use one at a city park. Perhaps a ward member has a big yard and would be willing to host the party.
I don’t have the answer. Until I do I’m out here desperately watching the door. Hoping for any sign of someone who can help. Looking for anyone who is already on the inside who can unlock it for the rest of us.
8 Responses
Only giving men the keys: literally and figuratively!
It is such a frustrating situation, you have my sympathy.
We don’t know the man in the car well enough to know why he thought that opening the building at the time the event started was the best solution that got bypassed by a bunch of teenagers with an authorized adult. We don’t know how much he went out of his way to show up there (at all), how much attention was paid to ensure that he showed up, or anything about him – his personal state of being and immediate capability.
We do know that he singled himself out and said, “Oh, I’m Here” – though we lose a lot of communication from tone and body language. He stood up and stood out when he could have slunk away in the corners because someone else had completed 1 of his objectives for being there.
And it really, really sucks when you can forecast the consequences of delayed timing and you could mentor someone into “paying attention” to the priorities you know about as a stakeholder directly impacted in that way.
I like this post a lot. The analogy works great! Have been feeling a lot of these kinds of frustrations too the past few weeks.
Feeling and being powerless super sucks.
And then they wonder why people stop knocking on the door and stop showing up at the party at all. I’m going to hurt myself if I roll my eyes any harder.
I have a half-written blog submission from months ago using this same metaphor of keys=(priesthood) power to illustrate how women don’t really have equal access to the blessings of the priesthood as long as someone else controls that access. Didn’t finish it because it made me too upset 🙂
There’s definitely a message here that concentrating power among a small subset of a group – whether that’s priesthood power, decision-making power, power to deliver mercy or judgement, power to get into the building – leaves the rest of the group dependent on the good behavior of the powerful. Who hasn’t wanted to ask for a priesthood blessing, but didn’t because it would be too much of a hassle to find two cooperative priesthood holders? (Maybe not the best example because PH holders don’t bless themselves – but you see what I mean. A better example might be sacrament access during COVID for single women.) If it’s *less convenient* for someone to access something, I think they have less access altogether.
Thanks for writing! Your image of being stuck outside, waiting desperately for someone to come along who can make the change you’re hoping for, is so resonant with many in the church today from what I’ve seen.
The buildings doors are closed for so so many. I wasn’t allowed to use it for my girls scout troop. A woman in my town who teaches English to Immigrants/refugees can not use it to teach free English classes. The list goes on……There is a priority for our church, and it revolves around a closely held “power” of one group.
Very relevant analogy. Thank you.
…and, this is why my kids don’t come to the party anymore.