“On the 13th of January, 1870, notwithstanding the inclemency of the weather, the old tabernacle,” says the Deseret News, “was densely packed with ladies of all ages, and, as that building will comfortably seat five thousand persons, there could not have been fewer than between five and six thousand present on the occasion.”

Imagine, if you will, five or six thousand women (the only men there were a few reporters from back east) all fired up and indignant over being called second-class citizens of the United States of America. Not so much because they were women, but because they were Mormon women, forced into polygamist bondage, trapped in a male tyrannical religion, and enslaved, never to have a voice of their own.

Women of our day don’t have any idea what it was like to live in a polygamist household. We clutch at stories of divorce and anger from the women who hated that lifestyle and we commiserate over the very idea of sharing the intimate.

In spite of our lack of understanding, we have to admire the very bones of these women who stood up for their religion’s belief at the time. We don’t see that kind of passion and fire in Mormon women today, yet there are headlines that could be met with spit and fervor. I admire these everlasting strong and holy women and desire to be one with them.

At this Indignation Meeting, Sarah Kimball, who was president of this assembly, said, “We are to speak in relation to the government and institutions under which we live. Have we transgressed any law of the United States?” [Loud ” no ” from the audience.] “Then why are we here today? We have been driven from place to place, and wherefore. Simply for believing and practicing the counsels of God, as contained in the gospel of heaven. The object of this meeting is to consider the justice of a bill now before the Congress of the United States. We are not here to advocate woman’s rights, but man’s rights. The bill in question would not only deprive our fathers, husbands and brothers, of enjoying the privileges bequeathed to citizens of the United States, but it would deprive us, as women, of the privilege of selecting our husbands; and against this we unqualifiedly protest.”

Bathsheba W. Smith then was asked to address the crowd:

“Beloved Sisters and Friends: It is with no ordinary feelings that I meet with you on the present occasion. From my early youth I have been identified with the Latter-day Saints; hence, I have been an eye and ear witness to many of the wrongs that have been inflicted upon our people by a spirit of intolerant persecution.

I watched by the bedside of the first apostle, David W. Patten, who fell a martyr in the Church. He was a noble soul. He was shot by a mob while defending the saints in the State of Missouri. As Brother Patten’s life-blood oozed away, I stood by and heard his dying testimony to the truth of our holy religion—declaring himself to be a friend to all mankind. His last words, addressed to his wife, were: ‘Whatever you do, Oh! do not deny the faith.’ This circumstance made a lasting impression on my youthful mind.

I was intimately acquainted with the life and ministry of our beloved prophet Joseph, and our patriarch Hyrum Smith. I know that they were pure men, who labored for the redemption of the human family. For six years I heard their public and private teachings. It was from their lips that I heard taught the principle of celestial marriage; and when I saw their mangled forms cold in death, having been slain for the testimony of Jesus, by the hands of cruel bigots, in defiance of law, justice and executive pledges; and although this was a scene of barbarous cruelty, which can never be erased from the memory of those who witnessed the heartrending cries of widows and orphans, and mingled their tears with those of thousands of witnesses of the mournful occasion—the memories of which I hardly feel willing to awaken—yet I realized that they had sealed their ministry with their blood, and that their testimony was in force.

On the 9th day of February, 1846—the middle of a cold and bleak winter—my husband, just rising from a bed of sickness, and I, in company with thousands of saints, were driven again from our comfortable home—the accumulation of six years industry and prudence—and, with the little children, commenced a long and weary journey through a wilderness, to seek another home; for a wicked mob had decreed we must leave. Governor Ford, of Illinois, said the laws were powerless to protect us. Exposed to the cold of winter and the storms of spring, we continued our journey, amid want and exposure, burying by the wayside a dead mother, a son, and many kind friends and relatives.

We reached the Missouri river in July. Here our country thought proper to make a requisition upon us for a battalion to defend our national flag in the war pending with Mexico. We responded promptly, many of our kindred stepping forward and performing a journey characterized by their commanding officer as unparalleled in history. With most of our youths and middle-aged men gone, we could not proceed; hence, we were compelled to make another home, which, though humble, approaching winter made very desirable. In 1847-8, all who were able, through selling their surplus property, proceeded; we who remained were told, by an unfeeling Indian department, we must vacate our houses and re-cross the Missouri River, as the laws would not permit us to remain on Indian lands! We obeyed, and again made a new home, though only a few miles distant. The latter home we abandoned in 1849, for the purpose of joining our co-religionists in the then far-off region, denominated on the map ‘the Great American Desert,’ and by some later geographies as ‘Eastern Upper California.’

In this isolated country we made new homes, and, for a time, contended with the crickets for a scanty subsistence. The rude, ignorant, and almost nude Indians were a heavy tax upon us, while struggling again to make comfortable homes and improvements; yet we bore it all without complaint, for we were buoyed up with the happy reflections that we were so distant from the States, and had found an asylum in such an undesirable country, as to strengthen us in the hope that our homes would not be coveted; and that should we, through the blessing of God, succeed in planting our own vine and fig tree, no one could feel heartless enough to withhold from us that religious liberty which we had sought in vain amongst our former neighbors.

Without recapitulating our recent history, the development of a people whose industry and morality have extorted eulogy from their bitter traducers, I cannot but express my surprise, mingled with regret and indignation, at the recent efforts of ignorant, bigoted, and unfeeling men—headed by the Vice President-to aid intolerant sectarians and reckless speculators, who seek for proscription and plunder, and who feel willing to rob the inhabitants of these valleys of their hard-earned possessions, and, what is dearer, the constitutional boon of religious liberty.”

It is still necessary to defend our religion. What are we willing to stand for? How do we stand upon our sacred ground and demonstrate our reproach?