How’d It Go?


A group of Florida Relief Society sisters this morning.


My wife and I worshiped with our son and daughter-in-law this morning at a large Florida ward.


Truth be told, I completely forgot that it was National Wear Pants to Sacrament Meeting Day, or whatever the thing was called, and I didn’t pay any attention to whether or not any of the women were wearing pants.


Nor did anybody so much as mention National WPSM Day.  Not in sacrament meeting, not in Sunday school, and not in priesthood meeting.  There were numerous references to, along with one fairly lengthy discussion of, the elementary school shootings in Newtown, Connecticut, but I imagine, in retrospect, that that was just Mormons trying to find a subject less painful and appalling to talk about than pants in sacrament meeting.  (As Conrad’s Mistah Kurtz said, “The horror! The horror!”)


Perhaps Florida was an anomaly.  Surely the Church has been wrenched from its foundations by this important demonstration of feminine defiance.  Or, if not, surely the Church’s rigid and oppressive patriarchy bared its fangs and, revealing its true face to an appalled world, treated the ladies in a beastly fashion, urged on by . . . well, by angry and contentious reactionaries such as myself.  Or something.


That’s probably the way it was in Utah, anyway.  I’m sure.  It must have been.


I would be interested in reports of angry fistfights, wildly thundering gerontocrats, or any of the other dramatics that some critics seem to have been gleefully anticipating.  Or, alternatively, in accounts of appropriately calm worship services ornamented by Christmas hymns.  My bet is that little if anything very dramatic happened.


Which is good.


Big deal.


For my view on the epochal issue of pants in church, see here.


Posted from Orlando, Florida.



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  • Bonnie

    My friend who has inexplicably chosen her assigned seat next to the drafty funeral door forgot to wear her 1980s legwarmers, even though she promised some sort of show of defiance against the Utah chill. The patriarchy maddeningly just made announcements about letting the primary teachers get to class before running gleefully to the rooms. While teaching gospel doctrine with a blinding headache, I let my burqa slip accidentally-on-purpose and the class was scandalized to see that I didn’t fix my hair spectacularly well today. All in all, from what I could perceive through the pain haze, it was a normal Sabbath with normal parents wrestling normal squirmy toddlers and normal people chatting amiably about work they do together. I did wonder if gerontocrats ever have blistering headaches during General Conference, however.

  • Stephen Smoot

    I didn’t see any women wearing pants at my YSA ward at BYU. Maybe it isn’t nearly as big a deal as the rabble on Facebook and elsewhere have made it out to be.

    Then again, BYU is the epicenter of the Mormon patriarchal suppression of women and feminism. I can only image with horror the swift excommunications that would have come for any female BYU student who dared wear pants today.

  • dangermom

    I forgot about it until the third hour. Then I looked around. Two women, who very often wear pants, were wearing pants. I doubt either of them had heard of the event. They were just wearing their usual thing.

    • danpeterson

      Hmmmm. From your description it sounds like a raucous gathering and that the Church is perched on the edge of the abyss. Or maybe not.

  • Lucius Marcus

    Sister Pants was a no-show at my (notoriously ‘progressive’) NYC ward today. If it flopped here, it flopped everywhere, I can safely say.

    • danpeterson


      It would be interesting to get reports from Berkeley and Cambridge but, right now, I would say that the lack of a mass demonstration and crisis in New York City is strong justification for presuming that this one ended not with a bang, but a whimper.

  • Eric Stoddard.

    Now if they forgot their pants, then there would have been talk.

  • Louis Midgley

    I wanted to show solidarity with repressed women. So I thought about joining their protest by turning up at my Ward in a elegant black Lava Lava. For those who do not know, this is a kind of skirt worn by both men and women in the Pacific Islands. And there are fancy Sunday versions made of an elegant piece of black cloth, even fitted with pockets and a buckle. These outfits are sometimes worn by Samoan and Tongan men at LDS worship services even in Utah. Despite my desire to show solidarity with repressed women, I gave up the idea because doing so would have caused much laughter. Why? It would be a serious mistake to expose in public my pale, skinny, hairy legs. And it would probably have been misunderstood by the women in my Ward. So I merely held a very private little candle light vigil. Well, I lit a match. But at least I did something. Where were the rest of you on that historic Sunday?

    • Nate

      As a returned missionary from the Samoa Apia Mission, I once wore one of those lavalava–or, more correctly, ‘ie faitaga–whilst attending the general Relief Society broadcast at BYU’s Marriott Center. This was scandalous on at least three counts: 1) the skirt, of course, 2) I’m not a woman, and 3) I’m white, not Polynesian. I’m not sure how I managed to graduate, twice, from BYU, what, with its uber-repressive Honor Code and all.

      And I’m pleased to report that this Sunday, I presided as bishop over the services of our Honolulu, HI, ward, where some of our deacons may have been wearing said skirts as they passed the sacrament–I don’t exactly recall, it’s such a frequent, and normal, occurrence here. (As I write this, my wife confirmed that the deacon who brought her the sacrament was, in fact, wearing his skirt.)

  • DB

    As a priesthood holder, I wanted to show the sisters in our ward that I was fully embraced their National WPSM Day, so I wore pants as a show of support. I don’t think they noticed. I was disappointed.