Things Unseen
I can recall a long, long list of uncomfortable moments as a missionary. One recur-ring instance, however, was anytime I found myself showing someone the array of global General Authorities and Auxiliary Leaders. I’d hold my breath as the investigator took in row after row of headshots of old white men in black suits—dozens of them, accompanied by nine women at the very bottom and a smattering of token darker faces. Growing up in Texas and Utah, most members I interacted with had always looked more or less like me. As a missionary, sit-ting with refugees and recent immigrants, who already felt like outsiders in Vancouver, Canada, and presenting pictures of the senior church leadership felt like an affront to their identities. It was the first time I was wholeheartedly aware of my privilege as a white member of the church; I had grown up with the luxury of leaders who came from homes like mine and looked like me, though my frustration with gender equality within the church had emerged as soon as I entered Young Women’s.
Though I am white and thus racially overrepresented in church authority, a leadership roster of nearly exclusively white men makes us feel like we’ve been robbed. That lack of diversity (in gender, age, and race) means that my religion’s decision-making process creates policy and practice largely without input from individuals who have shared my experiences. The best of intentions cannot replace empathy, which by definition stems from shared experiences. It is quite difficult to explain to someone that yes, your church is a global church but no, God apparently didn’t see the need for global authorities to be at all representative of that very fact. It’s even more difficult to come to terms with it yourself—with the idea that maybe God thinks you’re better off hearing from people who don’t look like you or share the same obstacles or hopes as you. It’s disheartening to grow up in a culture where authority is personified as white men. Study after study has confirmed the value of seeing someone you can demographically identify with in positions of power. Unfortunately, current church leadership provides that for only a particular group of members.
Had I more time and space, this article could be a thorough, quantitative exploration of the various levels of representation for each gender, socioeconomic group, and race or ethnicity within LDS Church leadership. Instead, it is a letter to every individual who cannot see themselves in the decision-making circles of the church.
Naturally, church membership is far from representative of the global population and thus so is the leadership. However, we’ve had a greater proportion of members outside of the United States than within it since the 90s. So, the question of priesthood authority aside, why is our global leadership overwhelmingly not just American, but white American males?
The Church itself does not publish statistics on demographics such as ethnicity and gender, which suggests that they know those numbers could trigger PR complications or more. However, the Pew Research Center published a study in 2014 showing membership in the United States at 54% female and 15% non-white. Unfortunately, even my extensive Googling did not produce any more recent, reliable numbers on race or ethnicity within the church. However, even these numbers from six years ago are deserving of a more representative leadership. Since membership outside of the United States is overwhelmingly people of color, we can assume that the proportion of non-white members is significantly high-er than 15% of the total membership. The recent additions of Gerrit W. Gong and Ulisses Soares as Apostles were encouraging, as Gong is the first minority member at that level of authority. However, an American-born Chinese man and a Caucasian Latino are hardly a firm deviation from the status quo.
I assume that they are good men with the best of intentions in their new roles. This is not a criticism of individual leaders but rather of church structure as a whole. As Professor Patrick Mason said to the New York Times after the sustaining of Elders Gong and Soares, “The face of Mormonism is increasingly going to be people of the global south and people of color.” Those individuals have every right to believe in a God who grants the same weight to every voice, regardless of gender, wealth, or ethnicity. We cannot claim to be a global church, let alone a church where all are equally welcome, until decisions are made by more inclusive circles.
Institutions take time to change. Political scientists speak of religion as the “stickiest” institution, evolving at a painstaking, stubborn rate. While we shouldn’t be surprised by archaic practices and norms, anyone who identifies as Christian also has an obligation to demand more of themselves and of their organizations. If the purpose of this religion is to reshape our souls, spirits, and selves to better resemble Jesus Christ, then religious leadership must reflect that determination. Such an organization ought to function on the basis of compassion, which inherently demands proximity. The physical appearance of authority is significant because it is a representation of what (and who) a particular society deems valuable, capable, and trustworthy.