Antiquing and Gender Politics

Another short creative nonfiction piece I wrote for class - might as well share them now that it's over, right?

Ten Maple is an eclectic antique store I stumbled into one day when I was early for work, delightfully so. It’s located right off a bustling road, but when I parked in their gravel lot I felt like I’d stepped away from the busy world a little bit, hearing the birds chirping in the low-hanging trees and smelling the honeysuckle growing nearby. I made my way up to the front porch of the house, noticing the antiques sitting outside like they’d been there the entirety of their lives – a galvanized watering can, an assortment of terra cotta roosters, a concrete statue of a rabbit. The house has white siding with blue accents, and there’s a deep brick porch in the front, providing lots of shade for the chalkboard signs hanging out front: ‘fall down seven times, stand up eight’ and ‘learn to live, learn to love’ written in whimsically neat characters.

The screen door let out a slight groan when I opened it and I was greeted by more antiques – a menagerie of owls I nearly squealed over, miniature tea sets, and vases of all colors and shapes. The old hardwood floors creaked as I moved around the front room, and a woman appeared from the back. She had on jean capris and an easy blouse, holding a paintbrush in her hand. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail and wisps were fleeing comfortably from her face. I want to look like that when I’m her age, I thought immediately, smiling and saying hello most certainly in my mountain accent. I felt instantly comfortable in her presence. Within minutes we were talking about her son who did his master’s and worked on his PhD up until his dissertation, and had a difficult time getting a job. I told her I’d be graduating in the spring, hopefully employed soon, and my husband would begin his dissertation in the fall. We moved onto the economy and politics, the crazy weather and the unfairness of the public school system. I left with a terra cotta rooster for my mother’s birthday and, as my husband would say later, ‘a new best friend.’

I took Scott there a week or so later so we could choose a few things for his mother and grandmother for Mothers’ Day.  We moved together through the rooms of the house, touching plates and pictures, picking up miniatures of cardinals and bluebirds. He picked up a white ceramic frog with his wide mouth open, ready to dutifully hold a dish sponge and stand guard the sink.

“Hey, we need one of these,” he said, sincerely. Anyone else would’ve thought this was a joke or sarcasm, a guy trying to make fun of this clearly feminine pastime – ‘antiquing.’ But he was serious. He handed it to me and I carried it around close to my chest.

The owner found us in the back trying to decide between a sunflower votive-holder and a hanging hook that looked like a bird in it’s nest for his mother. We decided on both because they were so affordable.

 “This is my husband,” I said, introducing him to my ‘new best friend.’

“Oh!” she said, “Now that’s something you don’t see everyday. A man out antiquing and enjoying it.”

As she said it, Scott was still comparing the sunflower and bird hook, clearly enjoying this part of the process – deciding between these two items.

“I’ve got a feminine side,” he said in reply.
. . .

I think about what this means, that we’ve all put ourselves in these boxes from the beginning. How it must mean Scott has a special connection to his feminine side because he doesn’t find antiquing similar to watching paint dry. How I get all defensive when we meet a new couple and the wife inevitably asks whether I like to cook. I try to make some excuse like, “I don’t really have time” or “My schedule doesn’t really allow it,” (which are both only partly true) when I’d really like to say, “Hell no, I don’t like to cook.  My husband does though!”

I’m reminded of the time when we left Steak and Shake for an early lunch, heading out to my car. Two old men were talking beside their trucks and they looked at us quizzically, “Why aren’t you making him drive?” they asked.

“Because it’s my car and I can drive just fine,” I replied, probably a little too defensively.

“Well, he should be chauffeuring you around,” they said, chuckling.

I wish I’d said, “It’s none of your business really. I’m out working while he’s home cooking dinner most nights...what do you think of that?” But I didn’t say anything. I just nervously laughed and closed the car door, infuriated.
. . .

“Did you see these owls?” he says, holding one up for me to see.

“Uh...YEAH! I want all of them,” I say, handing over the money to pay for our purchases. He carries the gifts and opens the door for us to walk out to our car. He puts the stuff in the back and gets in on the passenger side.

A Different Kind of Memorial Day: Honoring Survivors of the 'Invisible War'

Before I begin this post, (which was adapted from a reading response for one of my classes) I want to preface it by saying that I'm not against American nationalism; rather, I'm against unquestioning, unwavering nationalism.  The post that follows is meant to honor a minority of soldiers who are forgotten and not honored, particularly on Memorial Day...

This week, in our final class of Feminist Theory, we read Cynthia Enloe’s “When Soldiers Rape*.” It was certainly an interesting read, especially considering Memorial Day weekend, when no matter where you go you’ll see signs displaying red, white, and blue, the gloriously bold emblem of the eagle, the reminders to “Thank a Soldier” or “Remember Those Who’ve Fallen.” You see little girls dressed in bandana dresses of red, white, and blue, and hair bows with shining white stars – I had a similar outfit when I was a little girl.  People in my family and my husband's family have served in the military and I grew up celebrating Memorial Day, thinking of my family members and their service to this country.

However, in recent years I’ve grown uncomfortable with the growing unwavering nationalism in this country, a nationalism without critical questioning of this nation’s actions. Particularly in the Christian community, and the nationalism in the Church: the American flag flown higher than the Christian flag, the pledge to the American flag in Bible School (weirdly enough done before the pledge to the Christian flag and the Bible).  I've attended numerous church services and heard people include a grateful tribute to those who’ve fallen for our country in their prayers, comparing it to the blood shed by our Savior for our sins. For me, there’s no greater blasphemy than to compare the two – they are not at all comparable in my mind.  Yes, we should honor those who've gone before us, but they did not die for our salvation.  I see danger in this kind of language, and in these extremely militaristic practices related so closely to the teachings of the Bible.  I believe there is a great danger in the kind of attitude of “serving God and country,” when as Christians we should only serve one master (Matthew 6:24).

What I think is so dangerous about this emboldened nationalism, whether considering the Church or not, is its lack of critical questioning and obedient support. If one decides s/he is against war, people automatically believe him/her to be against soldiers and America. However, people display proud banners and support for their troops, not stopping to consider the negatives of war, soldiers, and the teachings/methods of the military itself. Oftentimes as people enjoy their Memorial Day weekends grilling out, wearing their Old Navy flag t-shirts (I had several of these growing up too) thanking soldiers for their dutiful service, they don’t stop to remember what Enloe discusses: MILITARIZED RAPE, which is becoming more and more prevalent each year.

We need to make another holiday, another Memorial Day if you will, to remember all those victims and survivors of militarized rape, “rape perpetrated by men as soldiers . . . experienced by women in a variety of forms” (508). Particularly, the kinds of “rapes of women in wartime by civilian men of their same ethnic or national community” (509). But currently, there is no special day set aside to consider the negative, ugly side of the military, war, and soldiers, what Enloe calls “misogyny nurtured by and licensed by the militarized climate” (509).

Some might argue this is but a small issue, (in fact I think many would say that) but according to NPR, “a 2003 survey of women using the Veterans Administration health care system [revealed] that 28 percent [of female soldiers] experienced at least one sexual assault during military service**” (Hillard). Indeed, a new documentary is being released soon called The Invisible War, which serves to detail the growing occurrence of female soldiers raped by their fellow “brothers-in-arms.” Even though these small steps might be taken toward publicizing these atrocities, for the most part, as Enloe points out “the women who suffer rape in wartime usually remain faceless...and they are put on the list of war damage...an indistinguishable part of poisonous wartime stew called ‘lootpillageandrape’ [loot pillage and rape]” (508). For the most part these rapes are forgotten.

Source

I would argue that this different kind of Memorial Day would need to have a much different meaning than the one we have named to celebrate and remember those who ‘serve our country and those who have fallen to defend us.’ As Enloe notes, “Shana Swiss and Joan Giller...warn activists who are genuinely concerned about wartime rape not to let their own concern turn into objectification of women as victims” (510). Instead, it might be better to call it “A Day of Empowerment,” a day to remember those women who have “come to feel empowered enough to report when they have been raped,” a day to hope for more empowerment for those who haven’t yet reported it (510).

This country needs to stand up against militarized rape, taking more actions to prevent and punish these atrocities, and develop more critical questioning rather than unwavering nationalism.  We need a different kind of Memorial Day for these soldiers who've experienced Military Sexual Trauma (MST) - A Day of Empowerment.

*Enloe, Cynthia.  "When Soldiers Rape." Feminist Theory: A Reader. Ed. Wendy K. Kolmar and Francis Bartkowski, 2010. Print. 508-16.
**Hillard, Gloria. “Scars of War Run Deep for Many Female Vets.” NPR. 4 Oct 2007. Web. 28 May 2012.

"Confronted by Someone Else's Story"

I'm pulling from the archive today, republishing an old post from last year because of its relevancy.  Yesterday's post, "Thoughts on Amendment One and Christians," referenced Rachel Held Evans' blog post about the culture war being waged by groups of Christians against gay marriage and LGBT concerns.  Today, her post was equally powerful (if not more so), contemplating what it means that so many of us as Christians agree that we're ready to move from "waging war to washing feet," to praying for guidance and healing.  And even though others close to us may disapprove of us taking part in this conversation (at all), we need to understand that we're not alone in our individual journeys (wherever that may be on the spectrum).  Indeed, I think it's important that we meet each other on these journeys and learn to have loving conversations, rather than hateful confrontations.

Today's post emphasized the importance of stories.  Evans writes, 

We need to listen to one another’s stories. Time and time again, I talk to Christians whose experiences, like mine, go something like this: 


“I used to think that homosexuality was a sinful, promiscuous lifestyle that people chose in rebellion to God, and that Christians need to rally against the ‘gay agenda’ through legislative action. Then, my best friend (or brother or sister or son or daughter or high school buddy or neighbor or mentor) came out, and everything changed. Their story didn’t fit the stereotype. It didn’t fit into my previous categories. Their story made me see that things aren’t that simple, and that the ‘war’ between Christianity and homosexuality represents a false dichotomy that is incredibly painful and destructive to Christians with same-sex attractions. After that, I could no longer support the sort of rhetoric and actions that only serve to make this world a more hostile and hopeless place to the ones I loved. I kept thinking about all the depression, all the suicides, all the secrets. I just can’t support a culture that, perhaps inadvertently, fosters that.” 


Everything changes when you are confronted with someone else’s story (Source).

As I commented on Evans' blog, "I like that you've emphasized the importance of listening to others' stories. I am a 23-year-old Christian who grew up southern Baptist, raised to think homosexuality is a sin. Then I went to college and met gay and lesbian individuals whom I grew to love, listening to their stories and becoming 'torn' on the issue [she references a book called Torn: Rescuing the Gospel from Gay- vs. Christians Debate]. Then I went to grad school and met (and read) even more gay and lesbian individuals, who were also Christians.  I began reading Sara Miles' Take This Bread with my husband, reading Jennifer Finney Boylan's She's Not There, (perhaps what changed my mind more than anything), going to a talk by Jennifer Knapp (a lesbian Christian singer/songwriter), having conversations with other Christians about the 'issue,' and I've now evolved to call myself a Christian ally, supporting the LGBT community and fighting against the kind of prejudice and hatred you discussed in your last post. I'm very much looking forward to following what unfolds here, listening to more stories, and learning better ways to deal with situations like you faced with your husband (I deal with this. . . and I oftentimes have to 'hide' my own opinions just to keep the peace). I know there are so many of us who still do this, sadly - faced with situations where the LGBT community is being attacked without any hope for defense. Thank you for sharing and letting us all know we're not alone!"

Again, I agree with Evans that the stories are what need to be shared, because, as she says, "Everything changes when you are confronted with someone else’s story."  What follows is a post I wrote a year ago while taking Feminist Memoir.  I haven't changed anything because I think it's interesting (for myself at least) to see my growth and change even in a year's time, but also how this experience still shapes my worldview as a Christian. . .*would love to hear more from readers - what stories do you have to share?

This past week was both challenging and eye-opening.  Challenging, because it had come time to begin the final book for our Feminist Memoir class, and it dealt with transgender issues.  I'll admit I was close-minded about beginning my reading, and most of this can be blamed on my ignorance of the issue.  I read Jennifer (formerly James) Finney Boylan's She's Not There: A Life in Two Genders and quite literally, couldn't put it down.  I slowly learned what it means to be transgender, and for her specifically, it meant not ever truly feeling like she belonged in her own skin.  She would watch her mother iron her father's shirts, becoming frustrated when her mother would point out that she would wear shirts like these one day.  She was a young girl, trapped in a male body for much of her life, and remembers feeling this way at the early age of three.

This week was eye-opening because I learned so much about transgender issues through the story of one person.  I got to meet her in person on Thursday, sharing pizza and discussion, and then listening to her lecture later that day.  What amazes me the most about her story is that she lived most her life as a man haunted by the wish to be a woman. 

She married and had two boys before, at the age of 40, beginning the process of transitioning into a female body...and her heterosexual wife is still with her today. Her wife (named "Grace" in her book) is with her through every step of the process, and although there are times of utter frustration and heartache, they share a life together, raising two boys who equally love their "Maddie" (a term they coined as young boys, combining "mommy" and "daddy").  If their family is not a prime example of love, I'm not sure what is.  And what touched me the most about her lecture was when she pointed out that many people may feel that their relationship is "weird," but how many other relationships/marriages are filled with abuse and neglect, etc.? Yet Jennifer and Grace's love is unconditional, which is more than a lot of people can say for their own relationships (I wish I could remember exactly how she said it, because it was much more eloquent than that).

So, I wanted to share this experience with you - my own "transition," if you will - and suggest that when you go into something close-minded, you may very well come out on the other side changed, with wide eyes open, as I have this week.  It's extremely easy to judge because of ignorance and misunderstanding, but as Jennifer's Christian mother (who she says is her #1 fan) pointed out,


"You can't hate someone when you've heard their story."

Thoughts on Amendment One and Christians

Yesterday two major political steps were taken with regards to same-sex marriage: North Carolina approved Amendment One and President Obama gave his support of same-sex marriage.  I watched as my Facebook feed filled with the following images (which were somewhat expected):

And then several times I saw the following images, paired with people's commentary on Christian's hatred and 'idiocy' about gay marriage and homosexuality.  

 

The Devon Park Church sign (above) was circulating, along with the commentary: "that's some kind of threesome."  In these moments, I was appalled and became very frustrated! People are no longer making this political war one of left-wing vs. right-wing or conservative vs. liberal, but of Christians vs. gay marriage equality.  I wanted to stand up for those of us who don't at all share or support (and indeed fight) this hatred toward the LGBT community, and say, "We're not ALL like this!" 

While I'm aware that there's definitely reason to have these feelings toward the Christian community, what people need to understand is that many of us don't even see eye-to-eye on this "issue" (I put this in quotes because it's not merely just an 'issue' really - see more below) and there's a great dissent about how this is handled within the Church.  

Because I'm not as eloquent, and because perhaps what I feel has already been said perfectly, I want to direct you to a blog post by Rachel Held Evans, a Christian writer and blogger, whose newest book is called A Year of Biblical Womanhood.

Her post is titled "How to Win a Culture War and Lose a Generation," and it really resonated with me.  It provides an overview of what Christians and others are saying in regards to Amendment One.  But my favorite section of her post is as follows:

"My generation is tired of the culture wars. We are tired of fighting, tired of vain efforts to advance the Kingdom through politics and power, tired of drawing lines in the sand, tired of being known for what we are against, not what we are for. 


And when it comes to homosexuality, we no longer think in the black-[and]-white categories of the generations before ours. We know too many wonderful people from the LGBT community to consider homosexuality a mere 'issue.' These are people, and they are our friends. When they tell us that something hurts them, we listen. And Amendment One hurts like hell...

So my question for those evangelicals leading the charge in the culture wars is this: Is it worth it? 


Is a political 'victory' really worth losing millions more young people to cynicism regarding the Church? 


Is a political 'victory' worth further alienating people who identify as LGBT? 


Is a political 'victory' worth perpetuating the idea that evangelical Christians are at war with gays and lesbians?


And is a political 'victory' worth drowning out that quiet but persistent internal voice that asks—what if we get this wrong?" (Source).

Black Feminist Thought and The Help

Not too long ago I wrote a post called "Wrestling with The Help," realizing and contemplating the ways the film and book have been critiqued by the black community.  I have since continued thinking and 'wrestling' with it, and talking with others about their opinions.  What follows is a response for my feminist theory class, one that I wrote after reading Patricia Hill Collins' "The Politics of Black Feminist Thought" and several other articles concerning Black Feminist Theory.  Since there was such a great discussion that followed my last post on The Help, I thought I'd share this response for further conversation. . .

While reading Patricia Hill Collins’ piece “The Politics of Black Feminist Thought,” I was reminded of the recent controversy over Katherine Stockett’s book The Help and the movie released last August. The book and film depict, through a particular perspective, racism of Jackson, Mississippi during the early 1960s. Skeeter, a young white woman has just returned home from college and begins writing the stories of “the help,” hoping to become a ‘serious’ writer. Aibileen and Minnie are two of the black domestics who share their stories of raising white children and experiencing the oppressive roles as hired domestics, working for small wages and little respect.

As a young white woman myself, I read the book and watched the film, touched at the depiction of the black women caring for the white children like they are their own; for me, Aibileen is the real protagonist. I thought, naively, that the film and book had both portrayed the story of these women in a historically accurate way. However, I started reading articles and blog posts arguing that The Help depicted unrealistic and nostalgic images of the real race issues in the 1960s south, and I began to see that the black community was not nearly as receptive as the white community.

It soon became eerily reminiscent of what Collins asserts as “[s]uppressing the knowledge produced by any oppressed group mak[ing] it easier for dominant groups to rule because the seeming absence of an independent consciousness in the oppressed can be taken to mean that subordinate groups willingly collaborate in their own victimization” (52). I began to worry that the book and film did not fully articulate the complex intersectionality; instead as Trina Grillo writes, “sometimes the governing paradigms which have structured all or our lives are so powerful that we can think we are doing progressive work, dismantling the structures of racism and other oppressions, when in fact we are reinforcing the paradigms” (30). In other words, I started wondering whether The Help was dismantling or reinforcing racism and the oppression of domestic workers.

I watched a segment about The Help on Melissa Harris-Perry’s show on MSNBC, called “The Help doesn’t ‘help’ domestic workers.” Harris-Perry and guests’ criticisms of the film connect to Collins’ discussion of the “suppression of black feminist thought,” which “has been structured along three interdependent dimensions” (53). These dimensions include women’s labor, political mistreatment, and “the controlling images of Black women” (53). The controversy over The Help touches on two of these three dimensions specifically – women’s labor and the stereotypical images of Black women.

Source

First, Collins writes, “the exploitation of Black women’s labor – the ‘iron pots and kettles’ symbolizing Black women’s longstanding ghettoization in service occupations – represents the economic dimension of oppression” (53). One of the arguments against the film and book is that it only depicts Black women as domestics, unable to do anything else other than clean, cook, and take care of white babies. While this might be a historically accurate depiction of the south in the 1960s, it is perhaps one reason why the black community was so angry with the book and film; it is a contemporary depiction of women in exploitative roles that are represented in a somewhat nostalgic way.

Another dimension the controversy touched on – as well as Melissa Harris-Perry’s segment – is the “nexus of negative stereotypical images applied to African-American women” (53). Collins writes, “From the mammies, Jezebels, and breeder women of slavery to the smiling Aunt Jemimas on pancake mix boxes, ubiquitous Black prostitutes and ever-present welfare mothers of contemporary popular culture [these] negative [...] images [...] have been fundamental to Black women’s oppression” (53). Harris-Perry specifically mentions the danger of the depiction of black women in The Help, similar to what Collins asserts, as a way “to keep African-American women in an assigned, subordinate place” (53).

Source

To articulate this connection of the women’s roles in The Help and the dangerous stereotypical images connected to slavery, Harris-Perry suggested that viewers not only read the book and watch the film to form their own opinions, but also read Clinging to Mammy: The Faithful Slave in 20th Century America, by University of Connecticut professor Micki McElya, who argues, “Assertions of black people's contentment with servitude alleviated white fears while reinforcing racial hierarchy” (Google Books). Collins also mentions this reinforcement of hierarchy in her article: “Black women’s exclusion from positions of power within mainstream institutions has led to the elevation of elite white male ideas and interests and the corresponding suppression of Black women’s ideas and interests...” (53).

What I’ve learned as a young white woman after reading The Help, criticisms of the book and film, and Collins’ piece is that we must be receptive of these issues and how they might differ based on our own identities and experiences. Because members of the black community feel that The Help is a contemporary example of “economic exploitation” for Black women and a continuation of “negative stereotypes,” we must openly try to understand these arguments and why they are important in shaping and affecting our current culture and society.

Still, I see where the film and book can point out – even in small ways – the very injustices the black community wishes to bring to light. For example, in the film Skeeter tells her editor, “These colored women raise white children and in twenty years those children become the boss. We love them and they love us, but they can’t even use the toilets in our houses...” (The Help). Even though the film does have its many flaws and historical inaccuracies, I find moments like this, pointing to Maria Stewart’s own “object[ion] to the injustice of this situation: ‘We have pursued in shadow, they have obtained the substance; we have performed the labor, they have received the profits; we have planted the vines, they have eaten the fruits of them’” (qtd. in Collins 51). The lines from the film also point to what Collins calls Black women’s roles as “outsiders-within,” which “allowed African-American women to see the white elites [...from] a special Black women’s perspective” (56). Though The Help has its many flaws, and as a white woman I cannot fully understand, I can see how it can become a useful place for conversation about important race, class, and gender issues.

Titanic: The Final Word

When the feature film Titanic came out I was in middle school, that nerdy stage where you're sensitive to most everything.  I loved the film and started checking out books, magazines, and old movies about the Titanic from the library.  My grandparents subscribed to National Geographic so I could get the special edition book about the Titanic exhibitions (and I still have it at home).  I bought the Titanic Original soundtrack, the board game (yes, there's a board game, and it has nothing to do with the movie) and the 'Back to Titanic' soundtrack.  

Titanic (1997) Source

This wasn't the first movie/event that I had become a little obsessed about, and it certainly wasn't the last. Even when I graduated from college only a couple years ago, my parents took my husband, brother, and me to the Titanic museum in Pigeon Forge (and I have to say I was pretty giddy about it). Though I'm not still stuck on Titanic, it will always have a special place in my heart because of those memories I have of learning and connecting to the tragedy as a young, nerdy middle-schooler.  I've met a fellow Titanic-lover in my CNF class (although I think she's still very much attached to the story and is trying to explore her attachment in one of her creative essays).

A Night to Remember (1958) Source

I haven't gone to see the 1997 movie re-released in 3-D, frankly because I'm not that into 3-D movies.  My husband and I did catch about half of James Cameron's documentary The Titanic: The Final Word.  Because I'd watched the old films made about Titanic in the 1940s-50s - ones that didn't even show the boat breaking in half because they didn't believe the eye-witness accounts and hadn't yet found the wreckage underwater - I wasn't too surprised that thanks to more recent trips to the wreckage, they've figured out even more about how it sank.  James Cameron and others working on the mission now see that the depiction in the feature film is incorrect.  I think this is fascinating though - another movie made and proven to be wrong.  Though they say they've figured out exactly how it went down now, I think it's safe to say we might never truly know, or else we're giving in to the very hubris over nature that caused the tragedy in the first place.


I particularly enjoyed the last few minutes of the documentary - Cameron compared the Titanic to our society today, "it's a perfect little encapsulation of the world and all social spectrum..."  I thought it was pretty brilliant how he discussed our own 'full-speed-ahead' mindset that will always affect the steerage (the poor) the most, while the wealthy will always have access to necessities and means of survival.  I can't explain it quite as eloquently as he did so I'll just direct you to a transcript of the final two minutes of the documentary (my favorite part). And here's a short video that shows the main points of the film.   

Rooms Apart: Talking About ROOM

Today, my good friend and fellow blogger, Lindsey and I sat down together (on our computers in separate states) and discussed Emma Donoghue's Room.  Our original intentions had been to post the conversation on both our blogs, but once I read her post I really thought there was absolutely nothing left to add - she did a fabulous job introducing our discussion and the book itself.

So before I direct you to her post, I want to give her an introduction, like she did so well for me.  Lindsey graduated in May 2011 with a masters' degree in Humanities and Sciences from Fordham University in New York City; she attended Cornerstone University in Grand Rapids, Michigan for her undergrad.  As she notes in her post we met during a study-abroad program in Oxford when we were both in college, and became instant friends from the moment we met at the airport in London.  Since then we started writing letters every few months (yes, the ones with stamps) and have since kept up a more 'virtual' relationship on our blogs and Facebook.  I also currently live in the same city as her sister (small world, I know!) so we've been able to meet in person several times during the last couple of years! She included a picture of us on her post and so I just had to do the same!

Lindsey and me waiting for our bus to take us back to the airport - our last morning in Oxford :(

And now I'll direct you to her lovely post - Conversations with a Friend: The Challenges of Living Outside ROOM - enjoy!!

.wrestling with 'Christianity'.

Last month I presented a paper I wrote in my Feminism and Christianity class called "Feminism and Christianity: Christ as Feminist Leader, the Church as Socio-political Movement."  During our panel, it was great being back in this conversation again with fellow Christians and non-believers alike. In a couple more weeks I will present the same paper at Cornerstone University's philosophy conference ("Thinking Christianity in the Present Tense: The Politics of Discipleship") in Grand Rapids, Michigan, thanks to my friend, Lindsey, who shared with me the 'call for papers.' Once again, I'll be back in conversation with others about what it means to be a Christian in today's society.

I've had the following blog post drafted for a while, but I've not felt comfortable about posting it (I'm not sure why, it's merely my frustrations and reflections on Christianity.  They're ongoing and ever-changing, so I suppose that's why I hesitate to share).  Again, Lindsey helped give me the courage to share my thoughts after posting a similar discussion on her blog.  So here goes...

'The Church' by Diane E. Fairfield
Source: civa-artists.ning.com

I have to admit, I grow more and more frustrated with 'modern American Christianity,' the one that's used as a political weapon to oppress people, control bodies, and win votes. A friend and fellow grad student has even considered the idea of no longer calling herself a 'Christian' because of the negative connotations that come along with it.  'Follower of Christ' might be a more apt 'label.'

I begin this post by saying that I do not study theology like my husband or the many people he goes to school with, so what follows might feel more like an awkward dance than a graceful ballet.  Nevertheless, I've been wanting to write about this topic for a while, so I've got to start somewhere, right?

I grew up Southern Baptist which meant I was raised to fear going to hell; descriptions of it were preached from the wooden pulpit many Sundays, selected readings from the book of Revelations.  I was urged that 'if you'll just repeat this simple prayer after me, your name will be written in The Book of Life and you'll receive the Kingdom of Heaven when you die.' Pretty simple and individualistic, right?  Repeat these words, believe them, and you'll be granted everlasting life.

I'm reminded of the childhood fears of hell when I see bumper stickers like the one we saw yesterday: "If you drop dead today will you go to heaven or hell?"  I'm always left wondering whether that's the first question this Christian would ask when 'ministering' or 'witnessing' to non-believers; I shudder at the prospective answer and wonder whether the simple smiley-face "Jesus Loves You" might have been a better sticker choice...to each his own, I suppose.

Having since moved away from the Southern Baptist tradition and attended Presbyterian and Episcopal churches in both the southwest Virginia area and our present home, southern Ohio, I've learned an equally 'scary' concept of being a Christian.  It's written in Matthew 25 (an excerpt rarely discussed in my childhood Southern Baptist church community); you can read the full excerpt here, but I'll give you the summary from Matt 25:40: "Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me."  Gone away is the comforting 'simple prayer' of the individualist Christian making his straight path to heaven, and introduced is this communal notion that our path is paved by believing in the salvation of Christ and 'doing for the least of these brother and sisters.'  



Christian establishments (churches) that emphasize the 'hell, fire, brimstone' rather than the 'daily walk' -  might think they have others beat when it comes to making the congregation shake in their boots, but I'm afraid to say this one keeps me on my toes in a much more physical sense than the former.  But I have to say that I'm much more eager to be working toward this goal than the other.  As a child I was fearful of being 'Left Behind' even after having prayed the 'simple prayer' and being baptized in the small pool above the alter (possibly because the preacher asserted that sometimes "the first time didn't take").  I believed in Jesus, tried to obey my parents, and continued living my childlike understanding of Christianity the best I could. Now I understand these small fears might have been a reminder that Christianity is not like a passport we get stamped and 'we're good to go.'  We need to continually remind ourselves that we are called, by Jesus himself, to do for the 'least of these,' sharing the love of Christ with others.


I realize I'm not saying anything new or revelatory here.  In fact, it reminds me of a friend's sermon I had the pleasure of listening to the other day (you can read it here).  She started her sermon with the story of a preacher who preached the same lesson on the Gospel every Sunday.  Sunday after Sunday he gave that same sermon on the Gospel, until one day someone in the congregation asked him why he gave the same sermon week after week?  Why didn't he try teaching something else?  The preacher replied, "Because week after week you leave and go out in the world and forget it.  I'm hoping if I preach it long enough, it'll stick."

I am challenged by Matt 25 on a daily basis, perhaps one reason why I've been wanting to write about it.  Belief in Jesus is only the first step in becoming and living life as a Christian.  As Christians we should be encouragers of our faith, standing up for one another when we/others are oppressed or bullied for our/their beliefs.  Otherwise, we become the negative examples people point to when they can't understand why Christians are any different than anyone else.

I was reminded of this tonight as I was driving home listening to a song by Brooke Frasier called "Hosea's Wife."  They're powerful lyrics, especially the chorus: We are Hosea's Wife/ we are squandering this life/ Using people like ladders and words like knives/ If we've eyes to see/ If we've ears to hear/ To find it in our hearts and mouths/ The word that saves is near/ Shed that shallow skin/ Come and live again/ Leave all you were before/ To believe is to begin.  To believe is to begin, and believing is just the beginning...

.our bully society.

Bullying has been on my mind lately...

There's a new book out I'd like to read, called The Bully Society: School Shootings and the Crisis of Bullying in America's Schools by Jessie Clein.  The Women's Media Center included a piece discussing the book's focus on the impact of gender and sexuality on bullying situations.  MS Magazine also included a recent piece on the many different programs working toward ending bullying in middle and high schools.  Cartoon Network and others have sponsored a Speak Up campaign against bullying.  And today a friend on Facebook shared this NYTimes article about a new documentary coming out this Friday called Bully. Basically, I've been seeing this topic everywhere I look!

Source: womensmediacenter.com via Jade on Pinterest

I couldn't agree more with Clein's assertion:


"Our children need a compassionate school community to counter these despairing trends. Keeping discussions about gender and sexuality out of schools reinforces isolation and cements our schools’ bully society. Even schools that take bullying seriously often miss the connection to gender. They may punish the bullies and throw one after another out of school, but they leave the culture of sexual harassment and bullying firmly intact. Schools can and should instead become leaders that change these hostile conditions. Doing nothing means students fend for themselves; and that’s why so many choose violence. One-day workshops and after-school programs do little to change our schools’ culture of hostility."

Because this has been on my mind lately, and because I continue to be reminded thanks to the media and many others that bullying is such a huge issue, I'm thinking of doing a related community outreach as a project for the Feminist Theory class I'm taking this quarter.  As an option our professor is letting us choose a topic/problem that relates to feminism/women's studies and try to create a related community service project.

I was reminded as I read these articles and thought about a future prospective project, of my students in my English 102 classes; both times I taught it I've had several people write papers on bullying and cyberbullying.  Most all of these students wrote about it because they were victims of it sometime during middle or high school (it's still a problem that's close to them and that they wish to combat as freshmen in college). I was a witness to some of their 'stories of bravery' as they shared them in their short argument reflections.  This past quarter, similar to my Women's Studies professor, I gave students the option of writing a letter to someone about their topic or doing a 'pocket-size' service project that related to their topic in some way. One girl who chose cyberbullying as her topic wrote a letter to her high school, advocating for more actions to be taken against cyberbullying: teacher-led workshops, a counselor on campus for students to talk to.  Another girl chose to do a small service project by signing a pledge on Stand Together and sharing her number on her social networking sites; she said many of her friends joined her in the pledge against bullying - - I thought this was so exciting for her; she saw that in taking this seemingly small stand, she became more than just a number!

As Clein suggests, as teachers we have an obligation to create a dialogue with students to "help them creat[e] friendships based on trust rather than social climbing and clawing. Instead of more punishment and increasing suspension rates—another form of social exclusion—conflict needs to become an opportunity for teaching where students learn to stand up for one another, refrain from vilifying others, and learn ways to appreciate, support, and help everyone in their community."  But, sadly, as Clein and the NYTimes article both suggest, "cruelty is embedded in our schools and therefore in our society as a whole."

Perhaps the best way to combat this growing problem is by providing a place for sharing our stories, making them our own, and becoming people who've overcome rather than people made into victims.  The Born This Way Foundation has a mission of 'inspiring bravery,' and has created a place for people to share their 'stories of bravery,' personal experiences with bullies.  I think this is one very helpful way to put an end to bullying, by sharing those stories with others and having people listen.  I shared some of my own stories in part of a memoir I wrote for a feminist memoir class, and I can't tell you how good it felt sharing those stories, making them my own.  Similar to my students who shared their stories with me, I was glad to have witnesses to these events (I might get up the courage to share them on here sometime).  If more of us understand that we've gone through these experiences, we might find a better way to combat the issue and understand the underlying problems.

.church and politics.

As part of the Feminism & Christianity course I'm taking this quarter, we write brief responses to the readings, posing questions for class discussion.  This particular reflection stirred some interesting conversation among my classmates so I thought I'd share it here.

In his article, “Black Theology and Solidarity,” James H. Cone discusses the emergence of Black Theology, which came about not in the universities and seminaries, but through political struggle for racial liberation and the civil rights movement.  He also illustrates some of the beliefs of Black Theology, emphasizing justice for all races and the liberation from oppression preached in the “good news” of Christ.  In addition, he discusses Black Theology’s connection to Third World Theologies and the growth of “Womanism” from black women’s rejection of patriarchy in Black Theology.  During his discussion of Black Theology he states that it “was defined largely by Martin Luther King, Jr., when he and other Black church people began to relate the gospel to the struggle for justice in North American society.  The majority of White theologians denied [this] relationship [and] claimed that politics did not mix” (38).  Having grown up in a conservative Southern Baptist environment, I was never quite sure the political stance of our church until election year came around, and even then there were brief suggestions (usually by deacons) to “pray for wisdom at the polls.”  Many "white" churches still seem to hold on to this idea that politics and church do not mix, but I can only count on my hand the number of church sanctuaries I’ve been to that didn’t have an American flag stationed below the cross.  Is the inclusion of the American flag not considered a political gesture and stance when displayed within a church?