Women

Refelction, Not Influence

Warnings: Mentions of rape, violence against women, objectification, and domestic abuse. Description of a rape scene.

As some of you know, I do some unpaid work proofreading. I love it, because I’ve been able to work on some incredible pieces. I’ve also met some terrific authors (and even got a signed copy of a book out of the deal–win!). It’s a way for me not only to make connections like that, but to improve my own writing as I learn what’s good–and what’s not.

Over the weekend, I had the misfortune to have a chapter land in my lap that made me feel sick and violated. The writer sent what, on the surface, appeared to be an interesting combination of mystery and either urban fantasy or science fiction (this was the first chapter; it was hard to tell). It turned out to be some kind of erotica, supposedly with “BDSM” themes. Yeah, not quite.

After the first two pages, I started to feel uncomfortable, though I couldn’t pinpoint why. At first, it just sounded like the main character was imagining what it would be like as a dom. I’ve seen that before, but this just read…differently. After a second read-through, I figured it out. This guy wasn’t just thinking about being a dom in a particular relationship, he seemed to be applying this fantasy to all women. That is, he liked the idea of women–not exclusively a partner–being incapable of movement and unable to speak.

I set that thought aside, though, because I’m not well-versed in BDSM lifestyle/culture and figured perhaps the writer was expressing things badly. It’s been known to happen (ahem, Fifty Shades, anyone?). That is, until I read further. A strange woman appears at his door, looking for someone else. In the process of “comforting” her, he begins to fantasize about what he wants to do with her. Again, this made me uncomfortable, that a man would be incapable of meeting a woman without sexual interest. Clearly this is a person who sees women as existing solely for the purpose of fulfilling his sexual fantasies.

In the last scene of the chapter, the main character is waiting in a reception area and begins fantasizing about the secretary (of course). He imagines himself hauling her across her desk and assaulting her with a knife, slicing her nipples, and forcing her to have sex with him. The way the scene is written, it’s clearly intended to be erotic rather than terrifying. Let me tell you, it absolutely scares the shit out of me to think that a strange man would come into my workplace and imagine himself brutally assaulting me.

There are a number of people who will probably tell me that it’s “just fantasy” or that it’s okay because it’s fictional and no one’s really going to imitate that behavior just because they read it in a book. I’ve heard the same arguments about Fifty Shades, and they don’t hold any water for the same reason.

Stories like Fifty Shades or the rapey fiction I read last weekend are not cultural influencers. It’s probably true that no one’s going to first read the book and then act in the same fashion. Rather, these books are a reflection of what’s already happening. Women are already in abusive relationships, being manipulated and led to believe their partners love them or that they can “fix” their partners if they do all the right things. Women are already being objectified and raped. These are not things that are caused by reading a book.

The real problem is that books like these condone the behavior; they make it seem acceptable under certain circumstances. When abuse is sold as romance, it makes the abuse appear to be acceptable. Domestic abuse is okay, as long as a woman understands it’s because her partner only did it because he loved her. When rape is sold as eroticism, it justifies a view of women that we are playthings. It’s all right to fantasize about tying up and raping strangers at knife point, as long as one doesn’t actually do that in real life. It isn’t a matter of life imitating art, it’s the other way around–and not in a way that points to the behavior and says, “This needs to stop.”

If either of these stories were clearly defining the abuse and fantasy-rape as Very Bad Things, I would champion them and demand everyone read them. It’s entirely possible to point out societal ills in a manner that condemns the behavior, while still allowing the characters to see things differently than the readers. To Kill a Mockingbird does this perfectly in the narrative of the rape trial woven throughout the story. We can see the racism, but many of the town’s residents are incapable of such insight. The important thing is that we’re not supposed to side with them. We’re not supposed to see them as the heroes of the story, and we’re rightly indignant when people in real life also fail to understand why it’s wrong.

It’s a far, far different thing entirely to create characters who enforce violent, abusive behavior. What a difference it would make in both of the stories I mentioned if the end result were for the abusers to be recognized for what they are. Unfortunately, that’s not the case, and the consequence of both is reinforcement of a culture that is violent towards women.

Writers, this is my challenge to you: Don’t fall into the trap of believing your words have no subtext. Words mean things, and not just individually. Collectively, we can send messages that perhaps we don’t consciously intend. Be purposeful with your words; examine yourself and your work for ways in which you’ve upheld stereotypes or reflected cultural norms that might be best left in the trash where they belong. You, writers, are better than the ugly violence that some are selling as acceptable.

Breastfeeding and the Problem of Glitter

Women

I really love the artwork of Mary Cassatt.

Last week, I ranted on Twitter about the sexualization of women’s breasts and how that relates to breastfeeding. I want to expand on that, because I think this is an important part of the discussion about women’s bodies and objectification.

American culture has an obsession with breasts, in particular breasts as having explicitly sexual function. It’s extreme enough that the attitude bleeds into our view of infant feeding and what is or isn’t appropriate. The kinds of comments I’ve heard:

It’s gross the way your nipples get all pulled out of shape when you feed the baby.
I guess you can breastfeed past a year, but much beyond that and your kid shouldn’t be thinking about breasts anymore; that’s disgusting.
I wouldn’t feed a girl baby, only a boy, because having a girl suck on you is homosexual.
If you need to do that, go in the bathroom. No one wants to see you whip it out in public.

Some things I learned in grad school when doing my research on the topic:

The number one reason adolescent moms don’t breastfeed is body image concerns/sexuality.
Women in some parts of the world cover head to toe, but their breasts are exposed while breastfeeding, even in public markets.
Breast implants can, but don’t always, affect ability to breastfeed.
Breast reduction nearly always affects breastfeeding.

The thing all of those have in common is that they are, in some way, associated with sexuality.* This idea that breasts are for pleasure and not for functionality contributes to the justification of ogling women’s bodies and then excusing it by saying she wasn’t properly covered. After many of us objected to the framing of the arguments in both the chocolate cake post and the glittertits post, the response was nearly instant: “But they were exposed! Of course they were going to have people stare!”

The problem with that is that there’s no line. When does staring become acceptable? When a woman has her breast out and there’s a flash of nipple as the baby latches on? When she has large breasts, even though they’re completely covered with nary a cleavage line showing? When she’s got a low-cut blouse and glitter? When a man is confused about whether or not she ought to have her top button undone in church? If we start saying that any of those are okay reasons to gawp, we give permission for all of them. If the justification is that the breasts have something about them that’s “distracting,” then any kind of breast-related distraction becomes a reason to leer.

I’m not suggesting a slippery slope, actually–I’m laying out a poor argument. Saying, “But her breasts were right there in my face, covered in glitter. How could I not look?” is pretty nebulous. It could be used in just about every situation:

“But she was feeding her baby right there! How could I not look?”
“But her breasts are just so huge! How could I not look?”
“But she had that button undone and I thought it should be fixed! How could I not look?”

That’s not one thing leading to worse things; it’s finding ways to justify what men were already doing by blaming women for living their lives.

Let me share two stories with you about my experiences with breastfeeding. When my son was a newborn, we struggled to adapt to the change. I had a hard time breastfeeding, including poor latch (which was probably due to the epidural I had), infant reflux, and stubborn yeast infections. We made it, though, and I’m glad we did. Because of all the challenges, our church attendance was sporadic for a while. I was nervous about breastfeeding anywhere but home, since it was still difficult to get my son to latch. The first time I fed him at church, I went to the bride’s ready room in the outer part of the ladies room. Before anyone gets all upset, it’s a gorgeous space with comfy chairs, and it’s quiet in there–I wasn’t sitting on the toilet to nurse. It’s not a bad place to feed a baby, but the reality is that I was hiding in case anyone was offended.

A woman came in and asked why I was sneaking away to the bathroom. I made noises about how the pew wasn’t a comfortable place to feed my son, and she asked why I didn’t go in the library where I could sit on a couch and listen to the service through the speakers. The next week, I did just that. I was mortified, though, when a group of men in their 40s and 50s decided to also sit in there. You know what? None of them were fussed at all about the breastfeeding mom on the couch. They smiled, said hello, made eye contact, cooed over the baby, and sat down. Not one of them stared at me. Nor did they avoid me; they just carried on as usual. I think one of them may have commented about how it brought back nice memories of his wife feeding their own newborn some thirty years prior, but that’s it.

Fast forward to my second story. At the church we attended when our daughter was a baby, it seemed like no big deal. The auditorium was dark, so I just fed her and let her doze off during the service. Kept her quiet, she got her morning nap, and I got to enjoy church. Win-win. Once or twice, I had to take her out because she was fussy, so I would sit on the chairs in the foyer and watch the service on the screen. I thought it wasn’t too bad, but the chairs weren’t comfortable; the pastor even joked about that once.

But there was a problem: the nursery. I never fed her in the nursery because I was told I was required to sit behind a screen where we couldn’t even see the service on the closed-circuit television. We were supposed to hide in the nursery, and then hide within it. Not only that, one of the pastors gave a sermon in which he felt free to tell women how long they should breastfeed. He said that beyond a year was inappropriate. I was shocked and upset; I had already done extended breastfeeding with my first, at his doctor’s urging, in part because of his stomach issues. I was planning on the same with my second. It had nothing to do with breasts and everything to do with their health.

In that church, I learned that breasts were something to be covered and ashamed of. There was a constant thrum of “if she dresses like that, it’s no wonder men treat her like an object.” There was hiding to feed babies and being told how long we should do it. There were men fixating on the buttons of my shirt. And yes, there were smokin’ hot wives (even though the wording was different). There was blame and there was shame when it came to women’s bodies and an unspoken rule that our bodies belonged to our men, in private, for them to enjoy.

As you can see from my first story, it is entirely possible for men–a whole group of them, even–to sit in the presence of a woman with her breasts at least partially exposed and not ogle her. It’s possible to make eye contact instead of staring, to ooh and aah over babies instead of boobies, and to have a conversation that isn’t strained because of the presence of breasts. I guarantee that if men can do it when nipple exposure is a certainty, they can do it when wardrobe malfunction is only a possibility. There’s no reason for any church to police women’s bodies–not ever. Men are capable of reining in their own behavior, and women are not responsible for causing or curing it.

Women, don’t let cultural obsession stop you from nurturing your baby with your body or wearing that bikini or putting glitter anywhere you want to put it. Men, you are not animals. A lot of you behave decently, and while I’m not going to give you a prize for it, you should know that it’s appreciated. And for those of you who have issues with breasts and what women do with them? Find a hobby. You’ve obviously got too much time on your hands.

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*Breast reduction isn’t always associated with sexuality; sometimes it’s health-related. However, most women who have never given birth but plan to in the future are not told that the reduction can cause problems with breastfeeding because of the removal of some of the milk-producing tissue. When a woman’s health is not immediately at risk and she intends to have biological children, if she wants to breastfeed it’s better to hold off on the surgery until afterward. She should at least be informed of the risk.

Even the appearance of evil

LGBTQ+, Women

By Josef Seibel (Portrait of two young women) [CC-BY-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

A few days ago, Stephanie Drury (Stuff Christian Culture Likes) posted a link to Set Apart Girl Magazine. Nearly everything about it makes me cringe. Even the title is awful. I have a list of words that, as a woman, I do not want to be called. At the top of the list is using female as a noun when referring to humans. Second only to that is calling adult women girls. Right off the bat this magazine has me wanting to punch something.

Feel free to read through the magazine if you want to, but bring boots and a shovel. Meanwhile, I’m going to highlight the article that grabbed my attention: “Unnatural Affections.” It’s about exactly what you think it is–and yet also not.

“Unnatural Affections” is the tragic tale of a friendship gone “too far.” The young woman in the story, Sarah, has developed a friendship with one of her college classmates, Meredith. The relationship is close, and it includes long talks, Bible studies, and physical affection. And then the nightmare spiral into Meredith stalking and controlling Sarah . . . oh, wait. No, that’s not what happens.

What actually happens is that Sarah’s family and her boyfriend become “concerned” for her that she’s spending too much of the wrong kind of time with Meredith. Her boyfriend, in a creepy-as-hell turn, even demands that she choose between him and her friendship. In the end, Sarah caves and ditches Meredith so as not to hamper her future intimacy with her boyfriend (when they’re properly married, of course). Just to prove what a parasite Meredith is, she apparently gloms onto another young woman to repeat her pattern.

This is a lovely little morality play, but there is so much wrong with it that I’m hardly sure where to start. First, the relationship as described is not in any way abusive. I’ve been in an abusive friendship, and it doesn’t look anything like that. It looks like a friend who not only demands your time and attention but deliberately sabotages your other relationships. It looks like an expectation to praise her every move. It looks like her telling you that she thinks your boyfriend–who is well-liked by everyone else–is “condescending” and “too smart.” It looks gossiping about you behind your back, cleverly disguising it as “prayer requests.” It looks like demanding you give up friendships with people she doesn’t like. It does not look like hugs and hair-braiding and long talks cuddling up while watching a movie.

Second, we women cannot win. No matter what we do, we are seen as impure. If we spend too much time with a boyfriend, we’re putting him before God. If we spend too much time with another woman, we’re putting her before God. If we have sex before we’re married, we’re “damaged goods.” If we have a physically affection friendship, we’re failing to keep our bodies pure. Essentially, young women are to be starved of loving touch until marriage, at which point it will magically become okay–as long as it’s only with our husbands. What kind of sick joke is that? It sounds like another variation of body = bad, soul = good.

Third, the whole thing is a clear example of why I’m still stubbornly writing about homophobia in the church. See, here’s the thing. A person doesn’t even have to actually be gay to find him- or herself victimized by the church. One only has to give the appearance of doing something the church disapproves of. In this case, the Big Bad was having a physically affectionate relationship with a friend; The article even refers to it as “subtly sensual.”

As a youth, I heard all about how I should “avoid even the appearance of evil” and “not cause my brothers to stumble.” That meant I had to obsess over every single action I took, because I might somehow do something that could be interpreted as sinful. I recall a youth leader explaining that it meant she didn’t drink wine when out at a restaurant because she couldn’t be sure there wasn’t a teenager or a recovering alcoholic in the restaurant, and she didn’t want to give the teen the wrong impression or tempt the alcoholic to drink. That may sound extreme, but it’s another example of exactly what’s going on in the story of Sarah and Meredith. It doesn’t matter one bit whether they were actually in a sexual relationship–what matters is that they appeared as though they were.

I appreciate that some people may be hurt by having assumptions made about their sexuality (actually, no, I really don’t care about that at all; suck it up). But I’m far more concerned about the message this sends to LGBTQ people: “You are so bad that we don’t even want anyone doing stuff that looks like you.” Is there anything else the church believes to be sin that’s treated with such utter contempt?

Yesterday, some of the people I follow on Twitter were expressing the desire to stop coddling people who are not LGBTQ allies–to stop pretending that it’s just a difference of opinion and that it’s okay. I’m all for that. It’s not remotely okay to find every possible way to shame and humiliate people for who they are. It’s not okay to tell lies about LGBTQ people from the pulpit. It’s not okay to attach unnecessary subtext to a friendship based on those lies. It’s not okay to sit back and tolerate other people doing it, either.

To the Sarahs and Merediths of the world, there is nothing wrong with you. Whether it truly is just a friendship or whether you’ve discovered you’re in love with each other, take both as blessings. You’ve found a valuable gift if you have a friend or a lover with whom you can talk about your love for God and the Bible. Go find your joy in one another, and screw the loveless people who shame you for what you have.

Keep your hands where I can see ’em

Odds 'n' Ends, Women

By Richard Ling from NSW, Australia (Eastern Blue Groper) [CC-BY-SA-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons — Groper. Oh, wait. Not that kind.

The other night, I went out to a bar.

I’m not a big fan of bars. They’re typically noisy, crowded, and full of drunk people–pretty much all things I prefer to avoid. But my sister’s friend has a couple of sons who play in a band, and my sister’s been telling me how good they are for some time. Every time they were on, however, it seemed to coincide with my orchestra concerts. The season is over now, so I agreed to a night out with my sister and her friend’s family.

She wasn’t wrong–the band was good. Not my typical music choice, but I recognized most of the songs they covered (they play 70s and 80s hard rock). I did have to giggle at one point when my sister said, “Doesn’t this song bring back memories?” I was about six at the time the song was new, so not really. Still, it was a good time.

Until Mr. Gropey showed up.

Now, I have to say, I’d had my eye on him for a while. He already seemed like the creeper type, so I wasn’t unprepared. And in this case, having a crowd helped; out of necessity, I was maintaining my seat at our table just so I could have breathing room–there was no way for me to be cornered anywhere. He sidled up to me and whispered, “Having a good time?” How he missed the glaringly obvious wedding band, I will never know. Maybe he just didn’t care. After all, he looked to be in his late 40s or early 50s, and he’d had no problem hitting on the 21-year-old at our table. Regardless, my response was something fairly non-committal like, “Uh-huh” while simultaneously avoiding eye contact.

He didn’t take the hint. He snaked his arm around me and put his hand on my waist just above my tailbone. Fortunately, I was seated on a bar stool, so he couldn’t grab anything lower (not that he wasn’t making a valiant effort). I’m quick. I stuck my elbow in his ribs and flipped him off. He backed away, but not before trying to engage my sister–as though she hadn’t just witnessed all his behavior for herself and would look twice at him.

Now, I’m not telling this story to get sympathy or to ratchet up some kind of Angry Feminist cred. I’m telling the story because I think it’s important to talk about these things, particularly among Christians. No doubt some of those who read this are going to make assumptions about me or my clothes, or they will judge me for setting foot in a “seedy” environment. They might assume I was under the influence of alcohol. Didn’t I know what I was getting myself into? This is the message that is sent by the Modesty Police.

There was a time when I would indeed have felt guilty for being in a bar and for dressing nicely. I would have felt as though I had encouraged his behavior somehow or that I deserved it. Hell, I probably would have felt guilty just for listening to the kind of music the band was playing. Not anymore. I know that I have the right to be where I want to be and feel safe. I’m not eternally damned for my choice in music or clothes, and I wasn’t the one in the wrong when a creepy guy tried to cop a feel.

In the twenty-plus years I’ve spent in churches, the vast majority of the time I’ve heard more about how I’m supposed to behave as a woman with regard to my body than just about any other topic. Church leadership frequently set themselves up as Sexuality Hall Monitors, and comments about modesty, sex, availability, femininity, submission, and what we do with our reproductive parts abound. Those things permeate nearly every discussion, even when they seem irrelevant.

In all the time I’ve been in churches, I never once heard any pastor or leader give a sermon on how men should keep their hands to themselves. Not one.

Is it any wonder, then, that people don’t come forward more often with stories of how we’ve been publicly groped? We desperately need people to stand up and tell their stories when these things happen, because we need to create safe space–especially in our churches–where everyone understands and agrees that it’s wrong no matter what. People get away with pervy behavior because they know a lot of men and women will keep silent about it. It’s not just Christian culture that blames the victim–it’s our society in general. If we call ourselves Christians and claim to be counter to culture, then we need to be the ones to stand up against that kind of thing.

And lest anyone think I’m forgetting about men, I’m not. There were some pretty creepy women at that bar, too. The big difference is that women are usually blamed in both cases–we caused men to put their hands on us, and it’s obviously (and rightly so) a woman’s fault if she grabs a guy’s ass in a bar. But I get the sense that while men are rarely held responsible for “leading her on,” they are supposed to be flattered by the attention and are not supposed to feel violated by it. (I really can’t speak to what happens if men do this to other men or women to other women; in my previous churches, I doubt that would have been addressed at all, which is pretty telling.)

I don’t feel like anything that happened was terrible or tragic. It was gross, and I was offended, but it wasn’t the worst thing I’ve experienced. My point is that it was still wrong, and we need Christians to stop fixating on what people are doing consensually with their genitals and start addressing what’s being done against people’s wishes.

Because of my natural personality and my own life experiences, I feel pretty fortunate that I can look back on this and have a good laugh at Mr. Gropey’s expense. The next morning, my husband and I were in church and the title of one of the songs listed was in German. He suggested that if someone gets fresh with me again, I should just shout at him in German–that’s sure to scare him off. Then he got a wicked gleam in his eye and said, “Or you could just play sweet church lady.” I knew exactly what he meant. I told him that next time, I’m just going to ask the guy if he knows Jesus as his personal savior.

Maybe I’ll earn some Jesus points and lead someone to the Lord; who knows?*

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*Just in case you missed the sarcasm, I’m not really advocating for this as a way to get away from a perv, and I don’t really care to waste my time “witnessing” to a creeper in a bar.

What our boys learn

Feminism, Gender Roles, Sexuality and Gender, Women

Yesterday, Emily Wierenga apologized. I’m glad, because she owed it to those who were hurt by her original post about relationships and submission. There were several reasons why I didn’t respond to the first post. First, I was late to the game. I’d been on vacation when it appeared, so I missed it–all I saw was the fallout. Second, plenty of others had already written what needed to be said. Third, I already didn’t care much for her theology or her title of “Everyday Radical” (she’s not particularly radical); I really couldn’t figure out why everyone was so surprised by her words.

I don’t want to go around and around about the original post. I will say that no matter how “heartfelt” or sincere-sounding her apology, she still has problematic theology that she refuses to acknowledge. I’m glad she understands how hurtful her words were, but she also needs to examine her beliefs a lot more closely. Her original post was addressed to people like me–Christian feminists. It was not a rallying cry for people who share her views but something written to those of us she feels are outside that theology. Therefore, I see no need to extend some kind of olive branch in her direction. I don’t stand with Emily or people who share her beliefs, despite the fact that we may all call ourselves Christians. As a woman, as a feminist, and as a Christian, I have a responsibility to address things that contribute to the way women are seen in the church. That includes speaking out against the patriarchal leanings of other writers–whether those people are men or women. The fact that we both have vaginas in no way obligates me to some kind of womanly solidarity.

When I saw that Emily was offering an apology, I was glad; I believed she was doing the right thing–until I read a couple of paragraphs down. These words made my blood boil:

I didn’t know the way I would cry at night for fear of sending my boys to school, for all of the school shootings and drugs but not only that: for the way they wouldn’t be taught how to be strong leaders, but rather, would be questioned about their gender, made guilty for the way their kind had treated women in the past, and told that they could be attracted to either males or females because there was no male or female: there just was.

I’m not going to waste time on the rest of her apology; it wasn’t bad, though I think she still needs to consider the implications of her original post beyond its triggering effect. No, I want to address what I quoted above. I am the mother of a nine-year-old boy who attends public school; there has never once been a time when I have been afraid that he would be taught any of those things Emily mentions:

1. They wouldn’t be taught how to be strong leaders

First of all, that’s not the job of the school. The job of the school is to teach our children how to read and write and do sums. If we want any of our children–sons or daughters–to be “strong leaders,” then we must take responsibility as their parents. Not only that, this desire to have (in particular boys) become strong leaders ignores the fact that not everyone has a personality suited to “leadership” (at least, not the way it’s defined in conservative evangelical circles). As for what I think Emily might actually mean–that boys need to learn to be strong leaders so they can lead their wives–that is most definitely not something I want my son learning at school. If that’s your religious belief, you’re welcome to it, but don’t impose it on my kid.

2. They . . . would be questioned about their gender

As far as I know, this is a made-up concern. I have yet to meet a teacher or school employee who questions my child’s gender. I’m not entirely sure how Emily means this, but if she means that girls are given unfair advantage because there’s a sudden backlash against boys, she needs a pretty serious reality check. Boys are still more frequently called on in class, and boys are more often encouraged to explore math and science. What gets questioned is when boys fail to live up to that expectation.

If Emily means that suddenly boys won’t be boys and girls won’t be girls, that’s also pretty ridiculous. Is she assuming some mass takeover of our schools by an imaginary army of transgender people and their allies? Or is she just lamenting that now it’s okay for boys to like pink and take ballet? (I doubt she’s having the same questions about whether girls can climb trees and play with trucks.)

3. . . . made guilty for the way their kind had treated women in the past

My son hasn’t yet come home telling me that girls are good and boys are bad for hurting them. Again, this is not a thing that happens in schools. I just don’t understand where Emily’s deep fear of feminists is coming from. We’re not staging protests on the high school campuses or storming the gates of district offices. We’re not making impassioned pleas at school board meetings. No one is telling our boys that “their kind” are heinous beasts that have perpetrated evil on womankind. This smacks of feminist stereotypes. What I hope my son is learning (and I believe he is, if his behavior is an indication) is that girls are equally intelligent, interesting, strong, brave, and fun. Through his friendships with girls, my son is learning things that will eventually make him a better man. The adults around him are encouraging this–and that’s a very good thing.

Also, let’s be clear on this: Men being assholes to women? Not so much a thing of the past.

4. . . . told that they could be attracted to either males or females

Damn skippy, though I doubt this happens at age nine. I certainly hope that my son is aware that whatever sexual attractions he feels are normal. I learned at church that sexual attraction was bad unless it was within marriage between a man and a woman. Because I live in a conservative city, the most “sex ed” I got there was a very brief, embarrassed, “Um…uh…use some birth control so you don’t get a nebulous disease we’re not actually going to describe for you. Now, watch this video of a woman giving birth so you’re too disgusted to get pregnant.”

Anyway, Emily is wrong about this one too–is she not aware that kids are still being bullied for their sexuality? Even if schools are teaching an inclusive sex education (which they’re not in most places), the horror of having your kid know gay people exist is a lot less scary than being the gay kid who gets threatened or beaten. Priorities, people. Sort them.

5. . . . because there was no male or female: there just was.

This is also foolish. No one teaches or believes this. It’s fear-mongering. I do not know any person–cis or trans–who believes or teaches this. For the love of God, please go look things up before you start spouting off on them.

Oh, wait. She probably means proper gender roles, not actual genders. Er…I hope. What she seems to possibly mean here (?)–though I honestly can’t tell; I’m still confused–is that it’s okay for men to be attracted to men or women to women because the lines between their roles have gotten too fuzzy. I can’t decide which interpretation of Emily’s words is more offensive. In either case, gross stereotypes are being perpetuated here. Whatever Emily’s intent, it changes nothing. There are no schools teaching these bizarre things about gender.

When I send my son to school, I worry that he might have forgotten his lunch money.

When friendship empowers us

Feminism, Women

By Jules Morgan from Montreal, Canada (Cara's Ad Hoc delicious Uploaded by Fæ) [CC-BY-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons — I don’t know why asparagus symbolizes friendship; but this was the 5th image that came up when I typed “friendship” into Wikimedia Images. I liked it.

Sometimes, I feel like I have no fight left in me. I forget why I write and why I speak up, because no matter how many of us have joined our voices, it’s hard to see progress.

But then I have a conversation or exchange comments online and I remember. I know why I do this. I see others doing what they can, what they know how to do, every day in their ordinary lives, and I remember.

Last night, I had a terrific exchange with a couple of people on my Facebook page. Nothing earth-shattering, but it was cool. I connected with one old friend and one new one, and we shared some thoughts.

The original post, which I shared via a fellow blogger, was a link to a Christianity Today article in response to the Steubenville rape case and the aftermath. After a few comments from one friend, another jumped in and asked what I thought of the post I Am Not Your Wife, Sister or Daughter which was linked in the CT article. (I agree, by the way. I think it’s a weak argument that continues to perpetuate the idea that women are only someone in relation to a man. I feel the same way when people use the “it could be your friend/relative/coworker” argument to “humanize” any group of people.) I won’t bore you with the details of our conversation, but eventually, it sparked my new friend to post this question:

Thought experiment: There are two magic buttons. One makes all men see all women as persons. The other allows all women to see themselves as persons. (Person = full empowerment; full ownership of one’s own body, mind, and destiny.)

If you could press only one of the magic buttons, which would you press? Why?

Both my other friend and I (in a rare fit of solidarity; we often disagree with each other–but that’s one of the things I like about her) said we would choose the latter. We disagree on why we would make that choice, but it struck me as important that two people who have vastly different approaches to addressing the ills of the world would be of one mind on this.

The next question, of course, was why we (feminists) don’t focus more on empowering women rather than changing the way men view us. My friend said that what’s important to her is not to worry about educating those who won’t change their minds, to be a better person than those who came before her, and to pass that on to the next generation.

Those are admirable things, and I want to go on record saying that I am absolutely certain–whether she always feels it or not–that this friend is making a difference (even though she absolutely does not need my approval!). We haven’t seen one another face-to-face in many years, but even when we were in college together she was making an impact. She might not remember it, but she was a good friend (along with our whole group) at a time when I needed that. So if nothing else, she affected me. I have no doubt that she is having that effect on others, likely in ways she’s not aware of. She is doing what is meaningful for her and being the person she wants to be. That should never, ever be discounted as unworthy or unimportant.

Which brings me to why I do what I do. I have a vastly different approach. What’s key, though, is that my way of doing things is not better than anyone else’s. Nor is it less worthy. I choose to take on educating the ignorant because I believe that’s what perpetuates cycles of violence and hate. It’s not the small number of perpetrators who allow it to continue–it’s the uneducated people who stand by and do nothing while violators do what they do. It’s the people who sit around asking questions about why rape victims “allowed” themselves to be in that position. It’s the average church-goers who say nothing when their pastors spew hate towards gay people. It’s the ones who say, “I’m not racist, but…” followed by something that sounds remarkably racist.

In the end, people like my college friend give me the courage to do what I do because she has the courage to live it in her corner of the world. It doesn’t matter that we work this out in different ways, because there are any number of approaches to making this world a better place. Instead of being frustrated that all my friends aren’t activists, I’m choosing today to appreciate the beauty of our diversity. And I’m choosing to celebrate and honor the women I know who have the courage to believe in themselves regardless of what anyone else says.

Thank you, friends, for an excellent discussion and the renewal I needed to go out another day and work against oppression.

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