For the first time in modern American history, women under 25 are less religiously affiliated than their male peers.
According to Barna Group’s Gen Z research, young women are now more likely to identify as religiously unaffiliated—or “nones”—than young men. The shift is significant and unprecedented.
“You’d ordinarily see younger women being more religiously active,” explained Barna President David Kinnaman. “But we’re seeing that flip-flop.”
Barna’s data shows the decline isn’t just about Sunday attendance. Women also are pulling back from volunteering and leadership participation across churches and nonprofits. Meanwhile, spiritual openness remains high—especially among Gen Z.
Which raises a bigger question: What exactly are women walking away from?
Kinnaman is careful to note that the research doesn’t prove causation. But the timing isn’t hard to track. The past decade has brought high-profile church abuse scandals, renewed debates over women in leadership and rising frustration with gender roles that feel more rooted in 1950s domestic ideals than the teachings of Jesus.
Young women, it seems, aren’t walking away from belief in God. They’re walking away from institutions that haven’t made room for who they are becoming.
Across society, the expectations for women have changed. Delayed marriage, career ambition and chosen singleness are not just accepted—they’re normalized. But in many churches, especially those with more traditional theology, the ideal woman is still framed as a wife and mother. And the subtext is often clear: until she becomes those things, she’s incomplete.
Beth Allison Barr, author of The Making of Biblical Womanhood, argues that this framework isn’t divinely ordained but culturally constructed.
“Patriarchy exists in the Bible because the Bible was written in a patriarchal world,” Barr writes. “Historically speaking, there is nothing surprising about biblical stories and passages riddled with patriarchal attitudes and actions. What is surprising is how many biblical passages and stories undermine, rather than support, patriarchy.”
She continues, “Patriarchy wasn’t what God wanted; patriarchy was a result of human sin.”
Barr emphasizes that the problem isn’t a lack of women leading in church history but that their leadership has been forgotten.
“The problem was simply that women’s leadership has been forgotten, because women’s stories throughout history have been covered up, neglected, or retold to recast women as less significant than they really were.”
Kristin Kobes Du Mez, author of Jesus and John Wayne, highlights how evangelical culture has intertwined faith with a particular brand of masculinity.
“For conservative white evangelicals, the ‘good news’ of the Christian gospel has become inextricably linked to a staunch commitment to patriarchal authority,” Du Mez writes.
She critiques the evangelical cult of masculinity, noting, “While dominant, the evangelical cult of masculinity does not define the whole of American evangelicalism. It is largely the creation of white evangelicals.”
Du Mez also points out the reassertion of patriarchal authority in evangelical circles.
“Wayne would come to symbolize a different set of virtues—a nostalgic yearning for a mythical ‘Christian America,’ a return to ‘traditional’ gender roles, and the reassertion of (white) patriarchal authority.”
These cultural constructs have tangible effects on women’s participation in church life. Barna’s research has found a sharp decline in female volunteerism across all age groups. The drop has been especially steep since the COVID-19 pandemic.
“That drop has been much more significant among women,” Kinnaman said. “It’s almost as though women have said, ‘We’re done being your volunteers and being the backbone of all these things you say are important.’”
While church involvement is declining, spiritual interest is not.
“There’s huge openness to Jesus, huge openness to prayer and to justice that’s motivated by faith,” Kinnaman said.
But that openness isn’t translating into attendance. And increasingly, it’s women who are opting out—not because they’ve rejected God, but because they no longer see themselves reflected in the community that claims to represent him.
Du Mez critiques how evangelical leaders have promoted a vision of Christian masculinity that emphasizes patriarchy and submission.
“In the end, Doug Wilson, John Piper, Mark Driscoll, James Dobson, Doug Phillips and John Eldredge all preached a mutually reinforcing vision of Christian masculinity—of patriarchy and submission, sex and power,” she writes. “It was a vision that promised protection for women but left women without defense, one that worshiped power and turned a blind eye to justice, and one that transformed the Jesus of the Gospels into an image of their own making.”
Barr challenges the theological underpinnings of complementarianism.
“Complementarianism is a theology that teaches God ordained men to lead and women to follow,” she explains. “And in some ways, the pastor’s wife is this woman who works to support the ministry of her husband in an unpaid role behind the scenes.”
She questions the cultural shaping of biblical womanhood.
“What if patriarchy isn’t divinely ordained but is a result of human sin?”
And she urges a re-examination of Scripture.
“Could it be that, instead of telling women to be silent like the Roman world did, Paul was actually telling men that, in the world of Jesus, women were allowed to speak?”
The question now is whether the church can offer a version of that story big enough to include them—not as future wives, not as background volunteers, but as full participants in the life and mission of the church, regardless of relationship status.
“If women are struggling, it doesn’t matter whether that’s 10 women or 10,000,” Kinnaman said. “If they’re not around to contribute and share life, we’d better pay attention.”
