Protestant leaders once championed birth control – not to liberate women, but as part of ‘responsible parenthood’

Mother’s Day seems like a strange time to celebrate birth control, which, on its most basic level, is about helping people to not become mothers – or not become mothers again.

But in the mid-20th century, much of birth control’s growing support came from attempts to support American women not as feminists, but as mothers. This is the story that I focus on in my 2026 book, “God Bless the Pill: The Surprising History of Contraception and Sexuality in American Religion.” Many religious leaders and U.S. politicians were looking for ways to strengthen the nuclear family, based around a homemaker mother and working father. Expanding legal access to contraception served as a way to make that happen.

Thought leaders who pushed to make birth control more available did not necessarily do so out of a desire to help women control their own bodies. They wanted to protect children and families and believed they were stronger when parents, particularly mothers, could devote intensive time to raising their children – ideally full time. Those views dovetailed with both political needs and Protestant beliefs of the moment.

‘Nuclear Family in the Nuclear Age’

The Cold War may have sprung from geopolitics and nuclear fears, but it was also a form of culture war, with American politicians pitting images of a “godly” United States against “godless communism.”

The nuclear family was a central piece of that propaganda. As historian Elaine Tyler May wrote, politicians, journalists and other public figures trumpeted the ideal of a mother, father and their children living in their own home: the “nuclear family in the nuclear age.” In their depiction, the American family was based on a sexually charged marriage between a beautiful – and fashionable – homemaker mother and a handsome father who could provide for his white, middle-class family.

This idealized family could own a suburban home, one or two cars, and a constantly revolving selection of modern conveniences. Mothers were expected to invest in their appearance, presenting fathers with a delectable wife when they came home from work – plus a sparkling house and a home-cooked meal. In theory, this perfect mother had time, emotional energy and economic resources to parent their children in a very hands-on way.

Some middle- and upper-class Americans could afford this lifestyle, but it was out of reach for many, including many families that were not white. In addition, as Betty Friedan, one of the mothers of second-wave feminism, would articulate in “The Feminine Mystique,” many women who did live that life were not actually happy. That said, the idealized family was a central piece of American rhetoric in the middle of the 20th century – as was religion.

In the 1950s, more Americans attended church and synagogue than in any other decade that century. Around World War II, American figures started to often invoke the phrase “Judeo-Christian” to describe the country – a belated nod to Catholic and Jewish citizens in the still mostly Protestant nation. Nuclear families’ faith was considered a key piece of American defense against a “godless” Soviet Union.

American propaganda contrasted these ideal U.S. families against a vision of communism in which both parents worked. Soviet families were depicted in apartments with a shared kitchen and bathroom down the hall, without the material wonders of capitalism – from a brand new Frigidaire to a Kitchen Aid stand mixer and a Cadillac in the driveway.

In U.S. political rhetoric, the American familylived in technicolor, and the Soviet family lived in black and white.

‘Responsible parenthood’

But affording that vision of the American dream would be easier with fewer children.

Basic birth control methods had been part of American life for a long time – as evidenced by a declining birth rate among the middle and upper class, starting in the middle of the 19th century. “Scientific” birth control that required medical visits, such as diaphragms, had been around since the early 20th century.

Diaphragms became more accepted, and in 1936, a U.S. appeals court formally classified birth control as medical equipment. The birth control pill, which had been developed throughout the 1950s, was formally approved by the Food and Drug Administration in 1960.

Different Protestant denominations had slowly come to accept birth control, though the Catholic Church remained staunchly opposed to all except the rhythm method. Contraception turned procreation into a new place where Christians could live morally: not having more children than they could afford, nurture, educate and raise with knowledge of God. Denominational statements from groups as diverse as the Lutherans and the Quakers articulated a Christian form of planned parenthood that they would call “responsible parenthood.” In many ways, it was primarily about motherhood.

In 1960, the Rev. Richard Fagley published “Population Explosion and Christian Responsibility,” the first pan-Protestant theory of responsible parenthood. Fagley, a Congregational minister, called the medical knowledge that led to the contraceptive pill “a liberating gift from God, to be used to the glory of God, in accordance with his will for men.” He went on to say that godly scientific knowledge “affects deeply the size of the family … and therefore has created a new area for responsible decisions.”

While Fagley was the first person to collect various denominations’ views into a cohesive theology, his position represented a Protestant consensus, and his argument was adopted by the National Council of Churches the following year.

Birth control, in this formulation, was not about being child-free, or being able to engage in sex outside marriage. Rather, it allowed couples to decide, prayerfully, how many children they could have, and when they would have them. “Responsible parenthood” framed family size around “Christian duty.”

‘Mother-wife’

The theology of responsible parenthood makes clear that it is not about feminist autonomy for women.

For instance, when the National Council of Churches released a statement on responsible parenthood, the reasons listed for limiting the number of children in the family included “The right of the child to be wanted, loved, cared for, educated, and trained in the ‘discipline and instruction of the Lord’ (Eph. 6:4). The rights of existing children to parental care have a proper claim.” In the 1960s, the person assumed to do the majority of the work to raise a child was the mother.

Religious leaders’ rationale included concern for the woman herself, but in her role as “the mother-wife,” as the statement said – framing women in relationship to the men and children in their lives. Birth control was important inasmuch as it preserved her body and mind to fill those roles. And the occasion for more widespread acceptance of “responsible parenthood” was the advent of the birth control pill, for which women were primarily responsible.

In other words, birth control gained acceptance as a way to perfect married motherhood. But in 1972, the Supreme Court case Eisenstadt v. Baird expanded the right of contraception from married people to single people, including teenage girls.

The religious consensus supporting birth control soon fractured among evangelicals and other conservative Protestants. Not only did they start to see birth control as supporting sex outside of marriage, but also as undermining a mother’s moral guidance of her daughters, who could now access contraception without parental consent. Many more liberal Protestants got quieter as well.

That early, vocal support for birth control has come back in recent years. Battles over the Affordable Care Act and the Supreme Court’s 2022 Dobbs v. Jackson decision have caused liberal Protestant denominations to reaffirm their commitmentto reproductive healthcare, including birth control and abortion. That commitment has a long history – even if it is not a strictly feminist history.

Samira Mehta receives funding from the Henry Luce Foundation.