This Book Is Not Pink

This evening I was headed to hang out with a friend, so I grabbed the first T-shirt my hand landed on in my closet and threw on a hoodie over it. It wasn't until I was getting ready for bed and tugged the hoodie off that I realized I was wearing my feminism T-shirt.

I got the shirt in college, when I first started taking gender studies courses, when I was all fired up about shattering the glass ceiling and getting rid of the stigma around issues of sexual assault. I got the shirt when I first started experiencing the conflict between my gender studies classmates and the religion I so adored. I was just beginning to discern my call to ministry at that point, and I was nervous about how people would treat me.

When I told my classmates about my call and my aspirations to become an ordained pastor, they asked how I could be part of such a misogynistic institution. Why, they asked, would I want to work for people who had historically devalued women, and many of whom still pray to an angry father god saying "thank God I am not a woman"? I explained to them over and over again that the church had, at times, adopted harmful social trends, but that it was precisely my faith and the Bible that had taught me that God made all humans in God's image: male and female. I explained that I wasn't willing to surrender faith and Christianity to a history of misogyny, that I would stand up as a woman of faith and fight to make the church better. And, while they often did not share my faith or understand my decision, they respected me for it and affirmed me in pursuing it.

At the same time, I found myself debating gender issues with some of my more conservative friends. I brought up issues of rights and dignity and equality. And the discussions were civil and enlightening when they were purely academic. But when I told them I was called to ministry, most of them abruptly ended their contact with me, telling me I must be mistaken. Only one continued to talk to me, and he told me that he thought God might be calling women to ministry now because many men refuse to go. I was shocked to discover that he saw women as God's backup plan.

At that time in my life, when I was engaged in those debates, I was so impassioned. I'd wear my feminism shirt to church events just to push the envelope. It felt like rebelling, in a way, even though my church had no problem with women's ordination and, on the whole, was pretty good with gender issues.

I'm still a feminist, still passionate about gender issues, but it takes a different form now. I haven't worn my feminism T-shirt outside my apartment since I took this appointment. But I avoid masculine language for God and I try to bring different images for God into the life of the congregation. I've learned to tolerate being called cute as long as people still respect the authority my call gives me in the pulpit and around the meeting table. And I hope that women outside the church, feminists who see the church as patriarchal, misogynistic, and irrelevant, will see me, a young feminist woman in sanctioned leadership in the church, and will take a second look at faith. Maybe they'll see in me a counterbalance to the pink, gender-stereotyping books that dominate the religion sections in bookstores.

As I seek to live as both faithful and feminist in the local church, I read a lot of spiritual memoirs by women. I love them all, from the mystical words of Julian of Norwich and Theresa de Avila to Kathleen Norris and Anne Lamott and Lauren Winner. I admire both the strength and the deep faith they display in their writings, and I draw inspiration from them to stay strong. I also love that they are different: they don't follow the stereotype paths the pink faith-for-women books prescribe. They are authentic in their depictions of the struggles and messiness of life and faith.

Perhaps one day I'll write my own spiritual memoir, inspiring women of the next generation to be faithful anf feminists. If I do, I think I'll entitle it "This Book Is Not Pink", just to remind those who see it that there is room in the church for feminists. I can prove it, too, because I know there is room in the church for me.

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Mawaige is What Bwings Us Twogevah Twoday

"Are you happy? Do you have what you want, have you achieved all the goals you had for yourself at 25?"
Bear, one of my male friends from college asked me this question the other day. I paused for a few moments, then said, "For the most part, yes. I have a job that I love. I'm in a place that I like. I have a dog to keep me company. I've got great friends, though I wish some of them lived much closer to me. I've been to lots of interesting places, I've been privileged to go to some great schools. Yes, I'm where I hoped I'd be at this point. There are really only two more things I would like before I turn 30. I want to go to Australia and I want to get married." Then he asked what is perhaps a more interesting question: "Is getting married a goal for you?"

I couldn't really articulate an answer to that question immediately on the phone, and our conversation soon moved to other topics, but it left me pondering. I don't thin of marriage as a goal, exactly, since a goal is often an achievement toward which one works. Marriage isn't an achievement, really, and it's also not something you can really work toward. It's a relationship, carefully built between two people, a covenant and a lifelong commitment, not just a title to attain.

The idea of marriage as a goal is fascinating to me because popular culture often frames marriage as some sort of achievement for women. It's not framed that way for men, really. For men it's a desirable state when you get tired of dating, or perhaps for sex or companionship, but it isn't presented, I don't think, as a social achievement. But for women it's a different game. People speak about "getting your Mrs. degree" as though it's an achievement one acquires through dedication, work, strategy, and a little luck. There are books and magazine articles about how to catch a man, how to "get him to propose", as though if you have the right moves and work hard enough, you can force a relationship, and as though attaining a couple of rings and the privilege of checking "married" boxes on forms is a prize to be won. (Take, for example, the lassoing scenes in The Bachelor... YIKES!)

"But what if I never get married?!"

I can't tell you how many times I've said this or heard friends say it. Ask any single woman over the age of 22 their fears, and this will be among them. It comes up after every friend's wedding, every breakup, every bad date, and every birthday. This flip side of the marriage pressure: the "terror" of singleness. Because, while even pop culture will let you be the happy single girl for a few years, there's a point after which, if you're not married, people assume that there's something wrong with you. Take, for example, Sex and the City. Even in this progressive, VERY sexually liberated plotline, three of the four main characters were married before age 41. Women who remain unmarried are cast as closeted lesbians, crazy cat ladies, or poor, pathetic, awkward spinster aunts. At a certain age (and this age varies based on geographical location), you go from Sex and the City to Nanny McPhee. Quick, try for sixty seconds to name every strong, well-adjusted, never-married female character in your favorite movies and TV shows. Did you come up with any?

I want to be married. Not really because society tells me so, and not really (though slightly, I'll admit) because if I don't get married I'm cast as the freak who escaped from the circus, but because I'm looking for companionship. I want a partner to share my life with, to catch up with at the end of the day, to share the joys and the worries with. It would be nice to come home at the end of a long day and have someone to talk to that doesn't drool on my forearm.

At the same time, I refuse to treat this as a goal. It's not something I can work toward, other than being open to the possibilities of relationships. It's a relationship I hope to share with someone one day, not an achievement to tell society that I'm kind, well-adjusted, and desirable enough to attract a mate. I don't need that validation. Because, while the media really gives me no models for how to live as a happy, normal single woman, I do actually know such women in the real world. I have friends and mentors who are strong, single, and NOT crazy stereotypes. And I thank God for them every single day.

I know that there aren't manners books on how to treat your single friends, and it's easy for folks who have been married for a while to remember what it was like to be single. It's especially hard for people who got married young to understand what it's like for people who are single and older. And the media isn't giving any helpful guidelines, either. So, I offer a few suggestions for how to make life easier for the single folks. (I'm not being sarcastic here, folks. These could actually help you.)

1) For God's sake, stop portraying single women only in stereotypes. There are all sorts of different well-rounded images of people in relationships, different kinds of relationships, etc. Get with the creativity already.

2) Please stop assuming that everything is about/for "families". This is less of an assumption in the wider world, but the church, on the whole, assumes that everyone is somehow part of a locally-centered nuclear family. For example, church meals and potlucks are often REALLY AWKWARD for people who are there by themselves, so please make an effort to be welcoming to the single folks.

3) Unless the person you're asking is a really good friend, don't ask us if we're seeing anyone. If we want to tell you about someone we're dating, we will. If we're not, or are and don't want to talk about it, we won't bring it up and you don't need to either. I've been asked this at work functions, family gatherings, and even job interviews, and it's almost always awkward. One of the worst conversations I've had in several years was on this very topic with someone I'd met the same night. It went like this:
Him: So, are you married?
Me: No.
Him: Engaged?
Me: No.
Him: Dating?
Me: No.
*Long Pause*
Him: Sad?
I wanted to simultaneously slap him on the back of the head and vanish from the spot. Please don't put your single friends in this position. You don't even need to bring it up. There are lots of topics of conversation beyond families: ask about our pets/jobs/hobbies/weekend plans/last vacation/upcoming vacation/book we're reading... You get the picture.

4) Getting married is not the threshold to adulthood. Single adults are not children. Try not to put your unmarried friends or family members at the kids' table or give them the couch because they don't have someone to share the bed with or, worst of all, send their invitations and Christmas cards and things to their parents' address. If the single person has a home of his or her own, he or she deserves an invitation/card of his or her own. We're not eight-year-olds living at home, we're adults with places of our own. It's common courtesy to acknowledge that fact.

5) There is much debate about assurance that someday we, too, will be married. This can be somewhat comforting, insofar as it is an assurance that you, our friend or loved one, don't believe that we are undesirable, unmarryable freaks. And that's important for combatting the accursed views of singleness. On the other hand, it simultaneously upholds those views of singleness as a terrible state from which you hope your friends will be rescued. And what if we don't get married? The vague promises of "someday" stop holding water at a certain point. So, while I don't think such assurances should be outlawed, it pays to think carefully before you use them.

There are, I'm sure, other guidelines and suggestions to consider. At the moment, these are the ones that come to my mind. If you have others, feel free to share them in the comments section.

A Few Thoughts

In case you were worried, I'm not dead. My schedule has been a little crazy but, to tell you the truth, there's an even bigger reason that I haven't been writing. Since I started preaching every week, it's as though every single creative thought, every moment of writing inspiration, has been funneled into sermon preparation. Every time I feel like writing, I have to channel that energy into a sermon, otherwise I find myself in a panic on Saturday afternoon with nothing to say 24-hours later. So, I apologize for the long absence. I hope to achieve better balance soon. In the meantime, this is what I've been thinking about.

"Grace and Grimace"
I am a bit of a perfectionist. (Those of you who know me can now pick your jaws off the floor and climb back into your chairs now. Take a deep breath to get over the shock. OK, let's continue.) That makes preaching week in and week out, never having as much time as I'd like to prepare, a bit of a struggle. My hope to always prepare excellent sermons frequently runs up against a lack of time for exegesis, study, writing, editing, and practicing.

I preached a sermon a few weeks ago that I truly believe is my worst yet. It was a week when I had to prepare and preach two different sermons, and I just didn't have the time or focus to really polish it the way I wanted. It was still solid theology, it still made sense structurally, but it wasn't where I wanted it to be. But afterward, people gave really positive feedback. One person even said it was the best sermon he's heard me preach yet. I didn't really know how to respond. I wanted to grimace and apologize for the weakness of the sermon. But I refrained for the most part, and instead accepted the smiles and handshakes. Apparently God worked, once again, through even my weakest offering. It served as a powerful reminder for me that it really, really isn't about me or my abilities. Effective sermons are God's work, and I am just the instrument for delivery. God can speak grace even through words that make me grimace.

Gender and the City
I went to see Sex and the City 2 a few nights ago. It has gotten largely bad reviews and, I'll admit, I was not particularly impressed by the plotline either. On the other hand, while it lacked the plot development of the first movie and a lot of the juicy stuff from the TV show, it had some fascinating insights about gender. When these apparently liberated western women go to Abu Dhabi, they collide with very different gendered expectations. At first they dismiss the modest dress, head coverings, and veils of the women in Abu Dhabi. But when they find themselves in a jam, they discover that the women are finding ways to seek independence and self-expression in spite of the veils and the traditions that would seem to hold them back. The movie leaves room for all sorts of discussions of identity, cultural expectations based on gender, the power of tradition and the challenges of shifting gender roles. It's only a nod to those issues, as the movie continues the lighthearted vein of its predecessor, but I still appreciate that the representation of women who live behind the veil was not as flat as it might have been.

Current Events

Yeah, it's been two weeks since my last post, which makes me feel a little like a tool. And, again, I could list all of my excuses for not writing, but who wants to hear that?

Castle!
In case you missed the celebrations and tours, KJ, Chris, Kevin and I completed our castle. We built a 4x8x6 ft. castle out of PVC pipe and cardboard. Then we put paper on the walls and painted it in fun and exciting ways. It was an incredibly fun process and it makes me really happy to think about having a castle. I know, I'm a kindergartener, but you wouldn't want it any other way. Or I like to think you wouldn't.

Country-hopping
It's official, I'm GOING TO SOUTH AFRICA! Three months from today, I'll be in Cape Town to study and do my capstone, and I'm SO excited. I should be terrified (the study abroad information session told me so) but I'm just not feeling the apprehension yet. Of course, I'm sure I'll be terrified when the time comes, but for the moment, I'm more excited than I can even explain. I'm off to get books on RSA tonight, so watch out for me to start spewing facts about South Africa at every opportunity.

Countdown
I always feel like I'm counting down to something, but I can't help it, I'm almost always excitedly looking forward to something. Anyway, the current countdowns are for the end of the school year (4 weeks!) and South Africa (2.5 months!) Not to mention that between now and my departure for RSA, I've got two trips to Cedar Point, a family vacation to the east coast, Ohio UM Annual Conference, and my Emmaus Walk. I'm incredibly psyched.

Chasing the skirt?
It has come to my attention recently (brought up in several conversations in different contexts)that most of my friends in college can count on one hand the number of times they've seen me in skirts. There are several reason for this:
1) Skirts aren't very comfortable, particularly in the winter. Pantyhose SUCK, so I nearly always refuse to wear skirts in the winter. I occasionally wear skirts in the summer, but they're still more effort than pants.
2) I want to be able to take off running, climbing, or frolicking at a moment's notice. This is not to say that I run often, but I can't stand the idea of having my actions limited by clothing. I think this stems from elementary school when I didn't want to wear skirts because I wouldn't be able to play freely during recess. Somehow that mindset has stuck with me WAY past the years of recess, but there you have it.
3) If clothes are really a form of self-expression (usually for me expressing laziness), skirts simply do not express who I am. I'm not girly enough to wear a skirt to express myself. It doesn't fit my personality.
4) If guys don't have to wear skirts, why do I have to?
So, I wear skirts only when the occasion calls for it specifically. I have resolved, however, to wear a skirt once in a while just to show that I do, in fact, have legs. After all, when my closest friends start to doubt the presence of my appendages, something is wrong. So, by special request, skirts.

Dikaiopolis, plowing, and the slave

Yes, I know it has been a long time since I have written. I realize that this may be disappointing to the, oh, maybe two people who read this blog. To you, I apologize. However, I have been caught up in a very traumatic and engrossing saga involving my friend Dikaiopolis and his slave, Xanthias. There was some confusion about a rock, and some plowing, and the oxen were mad... it was a mess. That is to say, I have been really busy trying to keep up with my Ancient Greek homework (and other classes). So, allow me to update some random thoughts and happenings from the last week.

The first thing on my mind right now is: OUCH! The Wesley State-wide float trip was this weekend and, while it was quite fun, it is also excruciatingly painful in that I have a terrible sunburn and a couple of really nasty purple and green bruises. Despite my best efforts to apply sunscreen, my back and shoulders are the approximate color of a Kansas Jayhawk, and the tops of my feet and thighs resemble the color of a strawberry smoothie. I had to carry my bookbag around all day in my hands because it hurt too much to carry on my back, leaving me looking like a complete idiot waddling around campus with a grimace on my face. While I usually love being hugged, I have spent the last two days begging people not to hug me because I might scream. Thank heavens for Sarah, who puts aloe on my back three times a day. She is my medical hero.

Another revelation from the float trip: more confirmation that I'm never going to get married. I talked to a man there who chose his seminary based on where his wife could work while he was in classes. I don't want to be limited like that. I mean, there's way too much I want to do that would keep me from settling down: I want to travel to Africa, Asia, and Australia/New Zealand. I want to get a Masters Degree and a Doctorate. I want to have a dog. Besides, I'm not willing to settle for convenience and logical love. It's like Elizabeth Bennett says in Pride and Prejudice, "I am determined that only the deepest love could ever induce me into matrimony." Besides, where am I ever going to find a guy who not only is a good match for me, who I like and who likes me in return, and who is willing to follow me wherever I end up going for ministry?

Other exciting news: the Broncos beat the Chiefs last night in the season opener. I was ecstatic. Today I wore my Elway jersey around campus and had more random conversations with strangers than ever before. I mean, I know that a lot of people here are Chiefs fans, but I never realized how many people were willing to speak up about a SHIRT. No one was mean, though, there were a few supportive Broncos and Rams fans, and the Chiefs fans merely joked around with me. Fun times.

We discussed language in my women's sociology class the other day, which means we got to use all sorts of "dirty" words like bitch and cunt. I really hate that the word bitch is supposed to be bad, when it is used to describe an assertive, opinionated, strong woman. There is nothing wrong with being assertive, opinionated, or strong, no matter what the gender, and I resent the implication that such things are bad. I, however, have never had a problem with the word cunt. I mean, because it was so "dirty", I first encountered it when I was sixteen and reading a Ken Follett novel. I didn't even really realize it was bad, and I refuse to think about a part of the female anatomy as a "dirty word". I mean, words like dick aren't bad, so why should cunt be so bad? This irks me. I am hereby reclaiming the word cunt. I like it. I'm going to use it. People can deal with it.

I also saw my first roommate on campus today. After hearing rumors that she quit her sorority, that she was moving to kU, and that she'd switched out of journalism, I didn't know where she was. I mean, it's been almost two years since I've run into her, and I was so surprised when I saw her today that I didn't know how to respond. We had one of those inane how-are-you conversations, then we went our separate ways. I have no idea what she's studying now or anything. Surreal.

I leave you with one last exciting bit of news: Filming is underway for a new Pride and Prejudice movie, starring Kiera Knightly. Even though I know it won't be as good as the Colin Firth version, I still love Jane Austen, and I'm looking forward to it. YAY! For now, though, I'm headed back to Dikaiopolis and his plow.

The "F" Word

That's right I'm saying it. I am a feminist. I think that women are equal to men, and therefore deserve equal opportunities and equal treatment. After all, how does having a different anatomy make us any less than men? Is a vagina inherently less valuable than a penis? I don't think so.

Abuse of women should never be tolerated. Women should not be forced to wear veils or burqas. Women do not "belong" to men; we are not property. We will fight for equal treatment and challenge those who hurt, rape, or mutilate us. I don't think that abortion is right, but I also don't think that men should be able to make laws that force women to carry a baby and give birth if that is not their desire.

That said, I am not a man-hater or lesbian. I'm not against the institution of marriage, and I don't think that men are inherently evil. There is nothing wrong with women who choose to stay at home, and I support women who choose to have children and stay home to take care of them. I have been known to quote the slogan, "A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle", but that's not entirely true. I think that marriages of equal partnership, in which both parties share power and support one another are great. However, marriage is not necessary for everyone. A woman does not need to be attached to a man in order to have value. Women can survive single or married, it should be a choice that each woman makes for herself.

I have been told lately that I am "too picky" when it comes to guys. Perhaps this is the case. But I have reasons. After all, I don't really see the point in dating anyone that I wouldn't consider marrying, since that is the eventual goal I have for romance in my life. I don't feel that getting married is absolutely necessary, so I am not going to settle. Why should I? I can't commit my life to someone that I don't respect, admire, and love. If I never find that person, then I'll never get married. It's not that I think I'm too good for the guys I know, it's just that few to none of them possess the characteristics that I need. I need a guy who is a Christian with a really strong faith and a good sense of humor who is kind, gentle, strong, intellegent, understanding, articulate, and patient. It wouldn't hurt if he were liberal-leaning and attractive, too. I don't think that I am too picky, I am just not going to change my standards just to get a guy. If I never find the right guy, then I will be single forever. I can handle that. Which, I suppose, is probably one more reason that I will never end up married.

I used the "F" word: feminism. I am a feminist, but not, as Seinfeld would say, a "Femi-Nazi". I don't burn bras, but I fight the against patriarchy in our society. Sorry if that offends you, but that's the way I am.

Pride and Prejudice, Racism and Size

Welcome to Pride and Prejudice week, everyone. In honor of P&P Week, KJ and I are watching the A&E six-hour mini-series of Pride and Prejudice, plus we played the Pride and Prejudice game. We are also adding certain words and phrases to our vocabulary in honor of this great work of literature. For instance, "I'm all astonishment!" I am officially a fan of Jane Austen.

Allow me to point out that I HATE cold weather. Why are we still having cold and rain in March? Perhaps I will boycott the outside world until it starts acting properly with the season. I'll just refuse to go outside until the weather is warmer and more March-like.

So, there was a protest on campus yesterday in response to a blatantly racist article that was published in one of the student newspapers. I read the article, and I am appalled. How can someone be so ignorant and prejudiced in this day and age? And how can something so terrible as that be published? I know that we have freedom of speech and freedom of the press, but who would be so stupid and racist as to put those words on paper and spread them all over campus? I am almost glad that it was published, however, because it gets this subject out in the open. There is a great deal of racism on campus, despite the University's attempts to assert that it is a diverse and welcoming place. Only 5.9% of the students on campus are from minority backgrounds. Clearly there is a need to address these issues on this campus. There must be something wrong if so few minority students choose to come here. Also, why are there separate organizations for the traditionally black Greek organizations? Why can't all of the Greek organizations have ONE governing body? I'm not Greek, and I'm not totally clear on the whole system, but it seems to me that the separate organizations are just another form of segregation. I just hope that this offensive event serves to bring out dialogue about this problem.

Also, a study came out this week of 10,000 people in America, and it disproves the old ideas about average size in America. The average dress size for an American woman is actually 14, NOT 8, as previously thought. And for all you guys out there, the average suit size is 44, rather than 40. So, there's hope. We're not as relatively FAT as we might be. And now the McDonald's supersize is being phased out, so there's hope for us after all.

So, there's the good news for the day. Hope you enjoy it.

Save the World...

What an interesting weekend this has turned out to be. Some random observations and emotions from the weekend thus far:

The Vagina Monologues were awesome. Some parts made me just want to break down and cry, others made me laugh until my abs were sore. They were amazing. I finally felt like, for once, I wasn't alone. I wasn't the only person who occasionally hated being a girl, and who hated being picked on and thought of as weak because of it. Thank you to Sarah, and Eve Ensler, and everyone else who contributes to a production, a movement like that. Cunts unite.

One of my friends go dumped this weekend. He's a really sweet, if a bit hobbity-looking guy. And I just want to hug him. He says, "I'm OK. Or I will be, future tense." But I can see the sadness and loneliness in his eyes, and I just want to hold him and tell him that it will be OK. He's been wandering the halls all night, looking very sad. *sigh* Rejection bites, and so does being alone.

I'm a bit worried about my grades for this semester. I officially feel really dumb right now. I got an incomplete on a paper for the first time in my life earlier in the week. Then each time we discuss the papers we turned in for Religious Studies, I think that I did even worse. The writing wasn't bad, but I don't think I got the gist of the assignment right, which would lead me to not doing well on the paper. Also, I have 4 tests coming up soon, and I don't feel prepared for any of them, I only really know what to expect on one of them, and I'm not sure I'm going to be prepared to do what is expected. I feel as though I'm in over my head and I'm wearing concrete spike heels.

I love playing frisbee. I love it. I'm really awful at it, but it's fun. It's amazing. It's mild exercise (VERY MILD), done outside in beautiful weather, and you can talk to people while you're doing it. It's the perfect atmosphere to have a fun conversation with people because it doesn't cost money, it's not high-pressure, it's just relaxed and nice. Who would ever have thought of throwing a plate-like-disk-thing around for the sheer enjoyment of it? Who dreamed THAT up? Yet, I am thankful to whoever did it.

Joy that spring is coming. Frustration with my faults. Overwhelmed by my workload. Worried about my friends. Nervous about the Process. Annoyed with males in general (no, don't get offended). Excited for Spring Break. Dreading Lent. Missing people far away. Thankful for people closeby. Glad to have been able to play Euchre. Wishing there were more time in a day. Sleepy.