At City Creek Park in downtown Salt Lake City this week, nearly 200 women and men gathered to request entry to the priesthood session of the general conference of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (LDS). A friend called just as I was arriving to ask what the mood was like. All I could say between my smiles and choked back tears was "I found Zion".

Mormons believe in a priesthood authority, restored directly from God through a visitation by John the Baptist to LDS founder Joseph Smith. Degrees of this priesthood, as of 1978, are held by all worthy LDS men and boys over the age of 12. Prior to that year, men of African descent were excluded from the priesthood.

Although throughout the history of our church it hasn't always been this way, currently the priesthood is used, along with the traditional spiritual gifts, as a catch-all bureaucratic force. All financial decisions, church discipline, spiritual ordinances and administrative decisions required, at the very least, are overseen by a man holding the priesthood, if women are allowed any participation at all.

During our semi-annual conference there is a session dedicated to addressing the members of the priesthood quorums, which only men are invited to attend. The messages delivered at this session pertain to the needs of the church – avoiding pornography is a frequent topic – but also to the needs of the men running the church. Teenage boys are given counsel on how to grow up to be leaders, and it is another opportunity to hear our prophet's voice. Traditionally it hasn't been broadcast, so attendees are able to be more informal, even cracking unscripted jokes. Compared to the formality of the other sessions, the priesthood event is said to have the air of a gathering of friends.

Earlier this year a new organisation – Ordain Women – was founded by Kate Kelly, an international human rights lawyer and devout member, to address the systemic inequality within the church's structure. As we gathered in the park, I was overcome with the feelings of unity, hope and optimism. Among the crowd were friends and colleagues, some people I'd known for nearly 10 years without ever meeting in person. But best of all, a legion of new faces and fresh blood.

For so long the number of people who publicly identify as both Mormon and feminist were so few that I felt like I knew them all. For so long being a Mormon feminist meant having no place to belong: too radical for the Mormons, too complacent for the feminists. Trying to claim both identities often meant being refused by both. I can no longer say that. New participants felt emboldened by their consciences and what they sincerely felt as promptings from God, and our ranks swelled.

Expectations of how our actions would be met varied. Some wondered if we would be arrested. Others fully believed that we would be welcomed in. What I imagined was just about what happened: we were rebuffed with smiles and exhortations of God's love for us, our tears met with handshakes and a firmly closed door. The pain around me was palpable as I watched these devoted men and women, people who love this gospel and our leaders, have their earnest longing met with a wall of rejection.

Yet in response to our request the priesthood session was broadcast around the world, allowing millions more members – male and female – to hear the words of the prophet. In doing this our leaders have shown that although they might not understand us yet, they have heard us. In a faith as dependent on hierarchy as ours is, the importance of this can't be overstated.

This was a victory unlike anything women of the church had seen in years. But the real victory for me occurred in that park. We are no longer afraid to ask for what our consciences tell us is our right; we are no longer afraid of the consequences of church discipline. We are more afraid of the consequences of perpetuating inequality in an institution we believe to be of God.