By Emily Ellsworth

In the days leading up to General Conference, many speculated about the identities of the three men who would replace Elders Perry, Scott, and Packer. And among that speculation was talk of an apostle who didn’t fit the mold. Namely, a non-white, non-American.

In an interview with the Wall Street Journal, Patrick Mason, a Mormon and the Howard W. Hunter Chair of Mormon Studies at Claremont Graduate University, said, “If all three of them [the new apostles] are white Americans there will be a pretty significant chunk of the church that will be disappointed in that, frankly, and will see this as a missed opportunity.”

And that’s precisely what happened. In the moments after the announcement, social media was a buzz with disappointment, shock, and justification.

In the days following General Conference, members have shared and written articles explaining the diversity and qualifications of the new apostles. Explaining that their interactions with these men have been positive and they are fit to lead.

The problem is: that’s not the point.

No one is arguing that these men are not fit to lead, or that somehow their skin color, upbringing, or hometowns exclude them from leadership positions. But, our collective inability to put aside our own insecurity and privilege is causing pain to those who are rightfully and respectfully bringing attention to this problem.

What is found in the voices of people who have said they are disappointed not disaffected is not a disapproval of those called, but rather a genuine hurt that one of their own was not called. Because just as Elder Ronald A. Rasband, Gary E. Stevenson, Dale G. Renlund are qualified to lead, so are men from Asia, South and Central America, Africa, and the Pacific Islands. And this announcement left many wondering, again, when their turn would be. After years of enduring priesthood and temple bans, paintings of white pioneers, racist comments from the highest levels of church leadership about skin color, and a myriad of other aggressions from a church and gospel they love. This time, with three open positions, the blow seemed even heavier.

And rather than mourning with our brothers and sisters who feel confused and disappointed and even angry by this news, the justification by the general membership has made their pain worse by marginalizing it. By touting their leadership experience in foreign missions as diversity, we deepen the pain of those who faithfully wish for someone like them in a position of power.

As a way of illustrating just a fraction of the disappointment this announcement has caused, think back to the 2008 and 2012 elections. Many Mormons were thrilled at the prospect of a Mormon presidential candidate because he looked like them. Though Mitt Romney was from a prominent, wealthy Mormon household, he was one of them. He was brought up with the same values and the same faith. And if he won, one of their own would have a place of honor and respect. The presidency would give Mormons something that would give legitimacy and begin to heal their wounds carried since Nauvoo and Missouri. The Mormon moment of 2012 ended in bitter disappointment when Romney lost his bid for the presidency. Many Mormons felt robbed and devastated when their candidate didn’t win.

Thinking about the pain of this moment may give a very small glimpse into the bitter disappointment of members of the church who are not white Americans.