This has been a wild year for Latter-day Saint women, marked by increased visibility in the media. From Ballerina Farm to “The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives” to “Heretic,” the world is crafting its own narrative about who we are.
But these portrayals — gorgeous homesteaders, reality show stars and Hollywood depictions — fail to capture the full complexity of Latter-day Saint womanhood. A complete understanding must include how we see ourselves, whether we feel seen within The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and how we envision our future. Both the world and the members are asking: Who is a Latter-day Saint woman, and where can she be found?
While the institutional church has been clear about who doesn’t represent us, it has been less transparent about who does.
Can we look to the stand — a symbol of Latter-day Saint leadership, stewardship and priesthood power — for an illustration of Latter-day Saint women to ourselves, our young people and our visitors? In some parts of the church, a woman in leadership sits up front and alongside men on the stand, visibly affirming women’s integral place. Such practices are, however, rare and inconsistent, often left to the interpretation and preferences of the church’s area authorities.
This lack of clarity has contributed to a vacuum that Hollywood and popular media have been eager to fill.
The real question isn’t whether Hannah Neeleman or Taylor Frankie Paul accurately represent Latter-day Saint women, but rather: How does women’s invisibility shape our self-perception and how we are viewed within the church? How can practices that affirm our doctrinal beliefs of women’s essential role allow us to flourish?
There is evidence that many church members are wrestling with these questions. For example, the Instagram post featuring the assertion from Anette Dennis, a counselor in the worldwide women’s Relief Society, that “there is no other religious organization in the world … that has so broadly given power and authority to women” garnered over 17,000 comments and national attention. But this response wasn’t just about the statement itself — it reflected a deeper imbalance felt by thousands of Latter-day Saints who seek wholeness for themselves and the church. When women are counseled to study their priesthood power, it seems only reasonable to expect practices and language that reflect institutional belief in that power. Without these, women’s authority remains shadowed and invisible.
The number of members publicly engaging with these questions is likely only a hint of a much deeper widespread yearning.
When women flourish, the church flourishes. This truth should be self-evident, but it isn’t always reflected in practice. For instance, when forming new wards (congregations) or (regional) stakes, no statistic accounts for women. Women are invisible in the data used to determine whether a Latter-day Saint ward is thriving. Yet anyone who has served in a ward or branch knows that no measure of success is achievable without the labor and leadership of faithful women. Excluding women from institutional metrics misaligns us, not only with reality but also with our professed belief in partnership.
Rigorous research from church-owned Brigham Young University and Northwestern University confirms that flourishing comes through men and women working together. This should not surprise us; “our theology begins with Heavenly Parents” working side by side as “the divine pattern.” Yet, at the highest institutional levels, female general leaders do not report directly to the governing First Presidency. Instead, they work through general authority liaisons. This structure signals that women are heard but not fully partnered with, perpetuating a cycle of deference to men and keeping women behind the scenes.
Perhaps we can adopt a “Marie Kondo” approach to examining our traditions and practices, as church President Russell M. Nelson has done with the two-hour Sunday meeting block, the church’s moniker and the unveiling of women’s faces in the temple. We can carefully evaluate each practice by asking: In 2025, does this still spark joy? Does it align with doctrine and our discipleship of Jesus Christ? If a practice fosters partnership, unity and wholeness, we keep it. If it no longer serves, we thank it for its role and gently set it aside.
Questions about mutual flourishing stem not from doubt but from faith — faith in our doctrine, trust in prophetic love for women, belief in our divine potential and hope in the ongoing restoration. These questions, rooted in a desire for greater alignment between doctrine and practice, are essential to the church’s growth and flourishing.
The rare sight of women in leadership on the stand reflects a wider issue of visibility and representation. When Hollywood steps in to fill this vacuum, it offers a narrative that the women of the church could instead be telling for themselves. Visibility matters not for worldly acclaim but because it reflects doctrinal truths and helps align our practices with them.
To thrive as a church, we must ensure women are visibly valued and empowered as essential partners in building Zion. If the stand is not the place to confirm women’s importance, we must find other ways to do so — because if we don’t illustrate and narrate our story, someone else will.
Amy Watkins Jensen is a teacher, writer and lifelong member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, based in the San Francisco Bay Area.
Amy Watkins Jensen is a teacher, writer and lifelong member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, based in the San Francisco Bay Area. Through her Instagram account, @womenonthestand, and her Substack, Women on the Stand, Amy shares her own reflections and the perspectives, stories, and insights of fellow Saints, fostering respectful and unflinching conversations about women in the Church.
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