Grumblings

I follow Sistas in Zion on Facebook. I'm not sure how to categorize them. They are faithful members of the Church, and before the pandemic, they would frequently appear at the joint venture between the Relief Society and Deseret Book which is known as Time Out for Women. I've attended that twice since it's been offered, but they were not presenters either time. They share their perspectives on what it's like to be a Black member of a church which began as various tints of White. As the decades pass, and membership around the world has grown, the complexion has become more varied and interesting. The culture is changing more slowly, as culture does. Thanks to the writing of these sisters, and the greater transparency about Church history, my perspective continues to broaden and deepen.

I read a post today in which one of the Sistas narrated her inner dialogue while reading the 23rd Psalm. Some of her questions are analogous to my own, and inspired my comment: "My late husband and I used to talk about the concept that we knowingly and intentionally chose each and every thing that we experience here on earth. I maintained then, and still maintain, that I would not have signed up for some of my experiences, nor would my children. When I was new in the faith, I believed that the universe ran like clockwork. If I obeyed A, then the blessings for that obedience would flow. Maybe not immediately, or where was the faith, but directly. I resisted the idea that randomness was a part of the plan, that the promised protections were intermittent and incremental rather than continuous. Oh dear. I feel a blog post coming on. Thank you for making me think."

This, dear readers, is that blog post. It may be one of several. Watching historical fiction or adaptations of Jane Austen's novels tends to make me think. From The Musketeers, an extremely loose (in multiple senses) adaptation of Dumas' novel, I've pondered why it should be treason for a queen to be intimate with someone other than her spouse and king, while the king was free to dally with or seduce anyone he chose, without it reflecting badly on him, much less be considered treasonous. Yes, it was important for the king to know that his son was a legitimate heir to the throne. And yes, actual history has been massively complicated by illegitimate sons who wanted to be the next king. What kept running through my mind was a phrase from the Book of Mormon about the descendants of the first Nephi: "pretended nobility."

The only nobility we mortals can claim devolves from the fact that we are literally the spiritual children of our Heavenly Parents.

Reading the annotated edition of Persuasion has opened my eyes to the cultural mores and ideals of that time. I am relieved to have arrived on earth when women have somewhat more freedom to act than in Regency times. During my lifetime, women have gained the right to take out loans without a man's signature on the instrument. Once we cleared the cloud on the deed, I was able to refinance the mortgage in my own name. This house is not entailed to Beloved's eldest son. I have an interesting, well-paying job in a traditionally female role. (And my life would be considerably different had I been born a male. I would be retired from some sort of profession. I might have been a CEO with a golden parachute. My 401K would be significantly fatter. My children would never have known hunger, nor neglect. They might still have their current physical and mental health challenges, but we would have had greater resources to deal with them. I would not have invested a significant amount of time, attention, and anxiety in the effort to protect myself, and my children, from sexual predators.)

On the other hand, I would not be sealed to Beloved. And I would much rather have served briefly as a Relief Society president, than several years in a bishopric or stake presidency, had the Lord been inclined to call me. With all the frustrations of an aging body and a misogynistic, racist, and materialistic society, I'm still glad to be a modern woman.

P.S. Sherry, you asked about my favorite Jane Austen adaptation. That would be the 1995 Sense and Sensibility, with Emma Thompson et al.