The F Word.

Artist unknown.

Feminist.

The F word.

It conjures up images of sad, angry, bitter women.

Aging hippies with no bras.

Intellectuals who have ne'er seen the inside of a dentist's office.

A fearsome thing to behold.

I remember sneering to a professor once that I would never become a feminist.

He cocked his eyebrow at me and asked if I believed in the right for a girl to drive, to vote, to get an education, to get a job, and to decide who she wanted to marry.

My response was somewhere along the lines of "Well, duh."

"You are not only a feminist, then, but--in most of the world--a radical one at that."

Ooof.

So what does it mean, to me, to be a Latter-day Saint and a feminist?

It means that I have a deep and abiding faith in God and in His son, Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Ghost.

It means that I have a deep love for Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon.

It means that I married in the temple (a marriage that makes me blissfully happy) and that I have a testimony of the temple. 

It also means that I struggle with my role as a mother and a woman.

It means that I believe women in the gospel are capable of so much more than their currently assigned roles in our faith.

It means that I am deeply torn about the fact that I can't talk about these struggles in church. I yearn to be heard and seen. I fear for my membership. I feel very alone.

This blog is my somewhat anonymous attempt to explore the roots and branches of my own faith. To understand the path that I've taken, to this point, and to see where it might lead.

I am seeking.