A few weeks ago, I watched the Netflix documentary Death of the Pastor’s Wife. I was sad, but not surprised, that a woman’s testimony was considered so threatening it warranted death.
What is it that makes women’s stories so dangerous that we feel the need to keep them silent or pacified?
Why are women’s bodies so powerful that we have to shame them on public airwaves?
If it’s not a trending documentary, it’s a botched investigation into a woman’s testimony of assault that comes to light two years after it happened at one of the top educational institutions in the world.
Molly Shoulta Tucker
And if it’s not the collective failure of a college administration and a double-digit group text of men, it’s a cold-open comedy routine about athletic wear.
And if it’s not a public shaming of women’s clothing, we can rest assured a news cycle will come and go and again remind us that women’s bodies are destined to be either the butt of the joke or the heel in the side.
This is not new.
Women’s bodies always have been the battlefields upon which society wages war. History has shown us this, and modern politics continue to reveal it. Even our Scriptures narrate the patriarchy baked into early cultures, painting countless nameless women’s bodies as commodities in a war chest or expendable for one’s lineage.
And still, the worst thing we can do is sweep it all under the rug.
Patriarchy — as with all systems of oppression — relies on the fatigue and apathy of those under its weight.
The throughline remains clear to those who are listening: Embarrass anyone who suggests nuance, dare they rob the powerful of their control of the narrative. Further, invalidate their testimony and credibility as truth-tellers by any and all means possible. Weaken them, tire them out, and they’ll eventually go away.
It’s exhausting.
I had in mind in my early years of ministry that I would keep a journal with each phrase or word hurled my way, or perhaps any ridiculous task I was asked to perform, or any humiliation tactic that sought to keep me in my place. But they were too plentiful to keep track of.
Like many reading this, I am no stranger to the self-appointed keyboard warrior who decides to comment a select verse from 1 Timothy on a short-form video of my sermon from Sunday. A few years into my current pastorate, a summer intern asked me, “Did you hear what he said to you?” And I shocked myself. Under the guise of “I’ve just had to grow a thick skin,” I realized I had heard and I do choose my battles, because if I chose to fight every battle, I would be “too emotional.” It’s the Catch-22.
What is in my power to change, and what is outside my power to change? When does my self-advocacy stop and the advocacy of the environments I find myself in step up?
How do women keep fatigue from becoming apathy — or, worse, defeat?
Churches — deacons, lay leaders, attendees, youth group boys, doubters, saints, nursery workers, pew sitters, instrumentalists, treasurers, janitors and everyone I’ve missed — we need you to carry the torch and change the environment. It is the only way positive change happens in our churches and in our world.
BWIM’s State of Women in Baptist Life Report from 2025 echoed what the news cycles have told us all along. Women might be making big steps forward, but the environments in which they work and the arenas where they exercise, find leisure, study and learn are still barriers.
Let this news cycle renew your commitment to advocacy — not merely tolerance — in your committee deliberations, in your worship services and around your dinner tables. The words we let slide today become the headlines of misogyny tomorrow.
There is nothing new to say here but a reminder that we must keep saying it: Women are called to be pastors, preachers and ministers.
Molly Shoulta Tucker serves as pastor of Ridgewood Baptist Church in Louisville, Ky., as chair of BWIM’s board of directors and Acting Executive Director.
Related:
Reflections on Death of the Pastor’s Wife | Analysis by Rick Pidcock
Why the Mica Miller story didn’t surprise me | Opinion by Shelley Branine