This week my underwear made it into The New York Times. Members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints wear undergarments called, well, garments, as a symbolic reminder of their relationship to Christ.
Many religious traditions wear symbolic clothing to express their religious commitments, and for members of our church, this clothing is — quite purposefully — the layer worn closest to the skin. When I began wearing the garment at age 24, I never could have dreamed I’d one day be reading about it in the country’s preeminent newspaper.
Garments are probably not in The New York Times because they’re inherently interesting, but as part of the continuing discussion about the place of institutions and religious authority in our lives. To that end, John Dehlin, a former member who podcasts criticisms of the church, is asked to weigh in on Latter-day Saint women’s feelings: “I would say close to all of them expressed significant discomfort, if not aversion to wearing garments.”
This seems a bit like asking Martin Luther how Catholics feel about the pope. Unless there is some compelling reason to believe Dehlin’s ongoing criticism of the institutional church is not coloring his perception of how its members feel, sourcing him here is mind-bogglingly weird.
This one-sidedness renders garment-wearing opaque and dogmatic, in contrast with influencers who are “broadcasting a new vision of the church to their tens of millions of followers.” It seems incredibly strange to reference only those who are estranged or detached from the church to talk about something so sensitive and spiritual. So consider the credibility, or lack thereof, of such sources who suggest that Latter-day Saint women now come in just two varieties: “pioneer women in long dresses,” or mermaid hair and “plunging gowns.”
It’s hard for me to understand why the oppression narrative around the church is so compelling. Certainly there are members who feel pressured by their family or friends to remain in a church they would otherwise leave. No community, secular or otherwise, is without its expectations and fears of broken relationships are understandably acute.
And yet, the cultural pressures to leave organized religion, as well as the social rewards for doing so, have never been higher for women. Women in our church have gotten their own TV show for publicly bucking church teachings. At the same time, the digital age is weakening the influence of our immediate communities, including friends and family. There is no choice, circumstance, interest, or grievance for which the internet does not provide a sympathetic community, considerably lowering the social costs of breaking with one’s religion. Any woman in our church with an Instagram account knows they have other options.
Even still, women in our church leave at lower rates than most other denominations while reporting the highest overall rates of well-being. “Some may argue that Latter-day Saint women are doing better, because those who are not doing well disaffiliate. But Latter-day Saints actually have lower rates of disaffiliation than most Christian denominations” writes Justin Dyer, a Latter-day Saint scholar. Using research from a recent Pew survey, Dyer found that 77% of Latter-day Saint mothers and 68% of single Latter-day Saint women report feeling consistent well-being and peace, placing them significantly ahead of women from other (and no) religious affiliation, except for Muslim mothers at 75%.
Harvard’s Tyler VanderWeele says that rigorous longitudinal studies find “participation in religious services is associated with numerous aspects of human flourishing including happiness and life satisfaction, mental and physical health, meaning and purpose, character and virtue, and close social relationships.”
A study by the Wheatley Institute at BYU found that these feelings of satisfaction and purpose increased for those who practiced their religion consistently. Women engaged in “active participation in religious practices at home were twice as likely as less-religious women and five times as likely as nonreligious women to report frequently feeling that their lives have meaning and purpose,” adds Dyer.
Members of our church do not have to wear the garment in order to attend church, hold callings, or participate in any activities other than the temple. So, outside observers might pause to ask: Is it more likely that women in our church wear the garment merely from a sense of resignation, or because their religion brings them genuine happiness?
In my own experience, wearing the garment, like other aspects of my religious life, has not always been easy, and can take some trial and error to figure out. However, I genuinely love wearing them. It’s a reminder that Christ’s love is near and tangible and that I am covered by it every moment of my life.
I’m happy about style updates that can make the garment more comfortable to wear, but my experiences with the garment are such that I’d wear it even if it were a turtleneck onesie.
I know not all women in my church feel that way, with some still wrestling with what the garment means to them. But please don’t fall for the tired trope that our only options are “the perfect Mormon stereotype” or “free thinking rebel.”
When it comes to religion and wearing the garment, there’s another option: it can be embraced for sincere and consciously chosen reasons. It can be embraced as a quiet connection to heaven which, like God’s love, is always near, even when not outwardly obvious.