Front page of the Protect LDS Children website.

"When I was a young girl, my Mormon bishop asked me about my panties during a temple recommend interview"

In the past few weeks, attention has continued to focus on the policy of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints about youth interviews with the bishop. See here for a discussion of several small ways the Church has recently modernized its policy--but also why the changes don't go far enough to protect young people.

Today's guest post recounts a personal story of one woman's experience of a humiliating youth interview with the bishop -- one that continues to shape her life and choices as an adult. -- JKR

A guest post by Donna Mayne*

When I was a young girl, my Mormon bishop asked me about my panties during a temple recommend interview.

I was a Beehive, only thirteen years old.

Born and raised in the Mormon church, I was very active in the faith, a good girl who had been cruising through my bishop’s temple recommend interview questions up until that point. I lived in a small, majority Mormon town in the Utah corridor and we had a temple nearby, so I’d interviewed with this same man the year before. I was thinking that our interview was almost over.

But this year, his questioning took a freaky turn. He asked me about my panties.

I froze, so he repeated himself and clarified: “Your underwear. Do you wear immodest underwear?”

“No,” I quickly responded.

I was a good girl. I dressed modestly. Besides, how could underwear be immodest?

But he kept at it. “Do you wear bikini underwear?”

Gotcha. Now I understood.

The bishop’s daughter and I had been friends for years. I had spent many sleepovers at their house. We rough-housed in our pajamas, and sometimes I wore a nightgown. His daughter wore “granny panties” and I wore what in the eighties were called bikini underwear, or high-cut underwear with a low-cut waist. This bishop either heard about my underwear choice from his daughter when she saw me changing in her room, or maybe he had seen a flash of my underwear himself (or maybe his wife had?) while his daughter and I danced around their house playing dress-up or rough-housing, as we had done so many times.

And, apparently, this bishop didn’t approve of my bikini underwear.

With my face burning and my head lowered in shame, I nodded. Yes. Yes, I am guilty of immodest panties, my nods acquiesced. My bishop sat back in his chair, satisfied at the confession, then launched into a lecture about the importance of modest underwear.

Three decades later, I can’t recall a single word of his panty sermon, but I remember every second of throbbing shame as I sat there, forced to listen to it. Instead of believing in his counsel about panties, I was panicking inside, wondering if I was about to become the only Beehive in my class without a temple recommend. Would I be forced to skip our upcoming combined young men-young women temple trip to do baptisms because the bishop disapproved of my panties?

As the bishop wrapped up his sermon on the dangers of bikini underwear, I looked up at him. Fear squeezed my stomach. This was it, the end of the sermon. This was when he would pronounce my fate. The big moment when he would either declare me unworthy to enter the temple—and by extension the kingdom of heaven—or grant me a pardon for the sin of . . . what commandment had I broken, exactly? More than three decades later, I still don’t know.

The bishop then issued a stern reprimand. Next, he warned me not to repeat the offense again, and counseled me to wear the “granny” style underwear that he preferred LDS girls to put on before going to the temple.

Then…he pardoned me!

I left the bishop’s office on cloud nine and went out to the foyer feeling free and jubilant. I could join my peers! I wouldn’t be the odd one left out of our temple trip!

After that, I asked my mom to buy me some “granny panties” because I never wanted to feel as dirty, ashamed, or unworthy as I had in that temple interview, ever again. I felt that putting on panties in accordance with our bishop’s preferences would help me keep this spiritual high and put me in God’s favor. I also steered very clear of sleepovers at the bishop’s house after that day, and even decades later I still retain a faint paranoia of high-ranked LDS priesthood holders' homes and their families, for fear of inadvertently doing something uncouth in front of them.

Instead, I only interact with them at church, where I’ve spent decades trying to earn praise and approval from bishops and other high-ranking leaders so that I can always earn the pardon and self-worth available in all future temple recommend interviews that I discovered when I was thirteen. It felt SO good to get that recommend after dangling on the precipice of unworthiness that day!

I married in the LDS temple, have a large family, and we have always been active Mormons; we still are. We pay full, honest tithes, and almost all my friends and family are in this church. I’ve never known anything different. Deep down, I still base my worth on that piece of paper from a judge in Israel (the bishop) that indicates I’m worthy to enter the house of God, and my self-esteem tends to fluctuate based on signs of validation that I receive from bishops or other high-ranked priesthood leaders.

I only recently began noticing how much I my mental health has suffered over the years because of this unhealthy addiction to their approval. I have sought bishops’ favor in church callings, weekly meetings, and temple recommend interviews the way kidnapping victims with Stockholm Syndrome adoringly cling to their captors. Even now I can’t break free. Like a stray dog in search of a handout, I crave validation from church leaders more than I crave affection from my own husband, because this traumatizing event defined and shaped some of my most formative years and who I am as a person. The lingering effects of that day definitely wreak havoc on the emotional (and sometimes physical) intimacy in my marriage.

Sam Young’s ministry at is a gift to the youth of the church. I applaud former Bishop Young’s efforts to protect LDS children from being taken, alone, into rooms with adult men to talk about their clothes, bodies, desires, and intimate thoughts. Protecting youth is the right thing to do, I can attest from personal experience. The cost of turning our young ones’ self-esteem over to untrained men with no credentials is too great—it takes a toll on family relationships and mental health; it isn't worth it.

I’d be a much healthier, grounded, and self-confident disciple of Christ if Sam Young’s policies for protecting LDS children and youth had been in place back when I was a girl.


* This post was written by a Mormon mother who prefers that her real name, and the name of her former bishop, be omitted.



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  1. Thanks for the ringing endorsement of bishops staying out of our girls’ panties, all alone behind closed doors. Such a gross practice. I’m sorry, my anonymous friend, that this ever happened to you. It’s amazing how even one inappropriate shaming question can affect kids for decades. I hope your healing is well underway.

  2. You know the harm. You know the abuse of power. You know the life long pain caused by the abuse of power. You know that those in power have no plans to relinquish power, regardless of the earnest intentions of reformers.

    Yet you give them money.
    Yet you give them access to your children.

    I’m sorry to be so blunt. But abuse thrives on the willingness of victims to defend and abet abuse.

    Read the PA report. Pay attention to actions by laity and even some parents to defend priests and the reputation of the church at the expense of children. Realize that all religions have the same dynamic.

    Then look in the mirror.

  3. There is something inherently unhealthy about being afraid of your leaders. Stop the madness. Fast, easy, and FREE

  4. Err, “throbbing shame” is not the choice of words I would have deployed to convey the desired meaning for that particular moment. I would change that sentence and deploy the words ‘piercing’, ‘biting’, ‘ringing’ and maybe ‘excruciating’ .

  5. What was done to you served two purposes. It established the dominance of the Bishop and other male figures in your life. And it made you submissive and subservient. IF you have really changed are you still wearing “granny” underwear? OR have you realized that it isn’t what is on the outside (clothing worn or not worn, skin color, sexual orientation/identity, gender, immigration status, ethnicity, wealth social status, etc.) that matters, it is what is on the inside (in your heart and mind) that is important.

  6. “I am guilty of immodest panties”

    I can’t even…so the supreme god of the universe cares about panties… it.

  7. I assume you understand that Temple garments are worn by members of The Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter-day saints after they have taken part in the endowment ceremony.

  8. Three purposes. I’d be willing to bet that the good bishop got off on talking to a young girl about her panties. He was then able to go on a preaching rampage about immodesty and lust.

  9. This story is a nice illustration of one of the key elements of “strict religion”: the attempt to control almost all aspects of behavior, regardless of how insignificant to real religious behavior they might be.

    The LDS church is especially guilty of this–much more so than other religions.

  10. Thanks. It was pretty obvious. 😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬😬


    You probably remember the scene from Harold and Maude where the priest is going on and on about “precious bodily fluids”? That kind of obvious,

  11. Amen. There’s no way I’m backing down on this issue. No one on one interviews with minors, (perhaps unless requested specifically by the youth?). No sexually explicit questions ever. So simple. So right.

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