Hey friends, remember when I had a blog? I haven't forgotten, I've just been busy/lazy. I'm in grad school now, dontchaknow, so I'm kind of consumed with that. So why do I choose the week before finals to finally write another blog post? Because I'm a procrastinatory glutton for punishment, of course. Also because of the ongoing Great Pants Debacle of 2012.
A quick update on my life: I now live in New York, and I now have cats. Two kittens, to be exact. Named Kevin and Linda. That's about all that's worth mentioning.
And now, to our featured presentation. People have asked me, on the interwebs and in person, what particular feminist beef I have with my religion and/or its accompanying culture. Well, in the midst of the Great Pants Debacle, I stumbled upon this old post over at LDS WAVE (LDS Women Advocating for Voice and Equality). This list pretty nicely sums up most of my issues with the differential treatment of males and females in the LDS Church. And, because I know several readers will see this as proof of my apostate nature, let me say that I love the majority of the doctrines of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I have no intention of leaving. Instead, I intend to stay forever and stand up for these issues. I believe that God is no respecter of persons, but that many of the practices in the church do not reflect that. I want everyone to feel equal in Mormonism, but I know that is not currently the case. So I am hoping that my thoughts, actions, and example will contribute to positive changes in the church.
Sometimes the inequality I see is very hurtful. My faith is still shaken, and my resolve wavers often. But I'm trying. So, please, I would appreciate it if no one would question my personal worthiness or righteousness in the comments. Also, please don't tell me to find another church. I find that to be incredibly insensitive. I have feelings too, you know.
So, after that little explanation, here is my list of grievances, as copied from WAVE. (I hope they don't mind my copying it!) I understand that many women and men will not be bothered by these things at all. Many women may feel completely equal despite these things. That's okay. But my feelings are valid too. I feel kind of weird posting all of these complaints, with no qualifications or explanations. But people keep asking, so here's my answer. Remember, if you don't like what I have to say, you may stop reading at any time.
"I feel unequal when there are more (a lot more) men’s voices in
religious texts, meetings, leadership positions, and decision making
bodies.
"I feel unequal when callings that don’t necessitate the priesthood
are given only to men: Sunday School Presidency, BYU, BYU-I and
BYU-Hawaii Presidents, Church Education Commissioners, Ward Mission
Leaders, recommend takers at the Temple, etc. (Similarly, men are not
currently called in Primary Presidencies and could be.)
"I feel unequal when women doing the same job are called by different
titles (i.e. Sister vs. President) and/or are accessories to rather than
serving equally with their husbands, i.e. Mission President’s wives.
"I feel unequal when I have a calling as an auxiliary leader and have
to get approval of every decision by men and/or when I am not invited to
attend Priesthood Executive Committee meetings (PEC) which directly
influence my stewardships.
"I feel unequal when my value is primarily linked to being a wife and mother rather than by being a child of God.
"I feel unequal when the men in my life acknowledge that they have no female spiritual leaders in their wards or communities.
"I feel unequal when women have less prominent, prestigious, and
public roles in the church, even before and after child-rearing years.
"I feel unequal because even one of the most inherently
female-dominated time periods, having a new baby, is publicly
displayed at church in an all male ritual of the baby blessing.
"I feel unequal when males handle 100% of the church finances.
"I feel unequal when I am taught at church that my husband presides in
my family, he is the head, and all things being equal, he has the final
say.
"I feel unequal when people preach that men and women are completely equal and in the same breath say the above sentence.
"I feel unequal when I realize that at church all men have the final
say. Good leaders might consult with female auxiliary leaders, but
ultimately even after being called to a position via inspiration, men
still make the final decisions.
"I feel unequal when cub scouts and boy scouts have a larger budget
(they are allowed to do fundraising- although this might be a local
issue) than achievement days and Young Womens and thus, they often have
better activities.
"I feel unequal when the Young Women and Young Men’s programs have such different manuals, budgets, activities, etc.
"I feel unequal when fathers and mothers are encouraged to fulfill
primary roles to provide and nurture, but only the fathers are given the
freedom to seek out the best way for them to provide, whereas, mothers
are told the best way for them to nurture—to be stay at home moms.
"I feel unequal when men teach me that being a stay at home mother is
the most important thing a person could do, and yet most of them do not
do it.
"I feel unequal when people do not emphasize fatherhood as much as
they do motherhood and when we have numerous annual lessons on the
priesthood and I’m not taught anything about the woman’s role as a
priestess.
"I feel unequal in primary when most of the lessons and songs are about men although most of the teachers and leaders are women.
"I feel unequal because church disciplinary courts are made up of
solely men and there are no female voices in the very sensitive matters
of church discipline.
"I feel unequal when women have to talk to men about their sins,
especially sexual ones, and have no other church sanctioned options.
"I feel unequal because most men, even inspired ones, can’t fully understand or provide enough resources for sexual abuse.
"I feel unequal when young girls are taught about modesty and chastity
from older men, especially because females make decisions about these
things for very different reasons than males.
"I feel unequal because many of the official church declarations and
proclamations have no female input, regardless of how drastically they
affect women.
"I feel unequal when there are no checks and balances for females who
experience abuse in the system. While abuse may be rare, it is
terrifying that women have no resources to go to outside of the male
hierarchy.
"I feel unequal because the Relief Society’s autonomy was taken away and it became an auxiliary presided over by men.
"I feel unequal when women’s financial autonomy isn’t encouraged as much as men’s at church and/or church schools.
"I feel unequal because men conduct, men preach, men speak. Men teach us how to be women.
"I feel unequal because local leaders rarely use gender inclusive
language even though church manuals and General Conference talks try to
do so.
"I feel unequal when men speak at Relief Society and Young Women’s meetings, but women never speak in priesthood meetings.
"I feel unequal when there are very few women’s voices in our official correlated church manuals.
"I feel unequal when women don’t pray in General Conference and usually only give 2 or 3 of the many talks.
"I feel unequal because men and women can be sealed to different numbers of people.
"I feel unequal in the temple because women a have different script and role.
"I feel unequal when female employees of the Church Educational System
and temple ordinance workers are no longer allowed to keep their
positions after they have children.
"I feel unequal because we know very little about Heavenly Mother and
her role in the Godhead and there doesn’t seem to be any emphasis on the
part of our leaders to pray and find out more. I don’t know what my
divine potential means as a female and that makes me feel less
important.
"I feel unequal because all of these concerns are mediated by male
leaders and that they are only as important as these men deem them so.
While most of our leaders are wonderful, there is very little in the
structure or doctrine to prevent male leaders from misogyny or
benevolent sexism.
"I feel unequal when these gender inequalities are not acknowledged by
leaders. It is difficult to be a female in a patriarchal church and we
are trying our best to make it work. Acknowledgement of that difficulty
would go a long way."
Amen.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Monday, July 16, 2012
Lessons from the Lotus Temple: Reincarnation and LDS Theology
I went to the Llama Fest at the Hare Krishna temple in Spanish Fork this weekend. To my knowledge, llamas have nothing to do with the International Society for Krishna Consciousness (ISKCON). The lovely Lotus Temple just also happens to run a llama farm. And hold a yearly festival for their beloved llamas. This year's festivities included traditional Peruvian music and dancing, llama races and other llama competitions, a llama petting zoo, llama wool spinning, and a Beatles tribute band. Yeah, not sure where that last part fits in, but, for the record, they were good!
Aside: why doesn't the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints have llama festivals? Or any sort of non-preachy event open to the public? I think it's a great way to get people to come investigate your religion. I remember, growing up, the local Saints Simon and Jude Catholic church held an annual carnival. The whole town showed up. It was oodles of fun. And the only religion you got was an occasional glimpse of a priest walking by. At the Krishna temple, during the festivities, there is a set of informational posters set up for your perusal. (Many of these posters highlight the overlap between ISKCON and LDS theology, including things LDS prophets have said about cruelty to animals and vegetarianism.) You may also enter the temple and participate in a service. It's all completely pressure-free, which is nice. Perhaps we Mormons are so focused on converting people that we tend toward the overbearing routes instead. That's a shame, really.
Anyway, so we had a fabulous time. As usual. Look, here's a picture, the first picture I've ever put on this lil blog here:
I've been to many events at the Lotus temple, including the popular Holi Fest, the India Fest, and others. I love it there. Not only is it one of the relatively few places around here that has some culture going on, I also just like the atmosphere. You know, what with all the incense, henna, and veggie-tree-hugging-granola types. What can I say? I like hanging out with hippies. Is anyone surprised? I thought not.
So, as we were about to leave, it occurred to me that I might not be coming back any time soon, if ever again. I'm positive I could find a Krishna temple in New York somewhere if I wanted, but still. I wanted to say goodbye. So Husband and I ventured into the temple to savor it one last time. We left our shoes at the door, went up the stairs, and sat on some chairs toward the back of the ornate room. The man leading the mantras had taken a break to share a spiritual thought of sorts. He was talking about the nature of the soul. He said that the soul that's in each of us isn't just for right now. It was somewhere before this life, and it's going somewhere after this life. I was struck by how similar this statement is to LDS theology. Soon, he started back up with the mantras, so we went up to the front, sat cross-legged on the beautiful rug, and joined in the singing.
Just now, I was laying in the dark with my eyes closed, and one of those mantras got stuck in my head. "Jaya Sita Ram, Jaya Jaya Hanuman." There's definitely something to chanting. It's relaxing, somehow. I started thinking about reincarnation. Surely, when the man was talking about the eternal nature of the soul, he was thinking of reincarnation. It occurred to me, as it has in the past, that maybe the idea of reincarnation is not at odds with LDS theology at all.
The third chapter of the book of Abraham calls premortal beings "intelligences." Verses 18 and 19 of that chapter says,
We also have a lot of scriptures about gaining intelligence. They say that the glory of God is intelligence, and that the more intelligence we receive in this life, the better off we will be in the next life. That sounds a little reincarnation-like. The scriptures say we receive light, or intelligence, little by little, grace to grace. We are taught to be obedient to the light/knowledge/intelligence that we have been given, or else we will lose that light and regress. Could it be that plants, animals, or other "lower" organisms are on the same path toward gaining intelligence as we are, but are just a little behind us on that path? Reincarnation does technically mean re-embodiment. While perhaps the idea that a human can be reincarnated as another human does not jive, could plants and animals be reincarnated as humans at some later point in the universe? Or, could we think of resurrection as reincarnation? That makes sense, particularly if we throw in the idea that those who inherit celestial glory are resurrected to celestial bodies, those who inherit terrestrial glory are resurrected to terrestrial bodies, etc.
Going back to Abraham 3, God says that s/he is the most intelligent of all beings. According to LDS theology, our purpose in life is to become like God. Could it be that eternal life and nirvana are one and the same? They both describe the act of becoming one with the Supreme Being. (Also, atonement literally means at-one-ment.) God, being omniscient and omnipotent, has power over the universe. Is God not then "one" with the universe as well? Could becoming one with God also mean becoming one with the universe?
I believe that all religions have some truth to them. Certainly the Mormons don't have it all. (Although many like to think that.) Hinduism, and its offshoots, are particularly interesting due to its age. And its belief in goddesses.
Anyway, these are my late-night musings. I should probably stop now. I'll end with this: if you ever get the chance to visit a Hare Krishna temple, do it. Also, I want a pet llama.
Aside: why doesn't the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints have llama festivals? Or any sort of non-preachy event open to the public? I think it's a great way to get people to come investigate your religion. I remember, growing up, the local Saints Simon and Jude Catholic church held an annual carnival. The whole town showed up. It was oodles of fun. And the only religion you got was an occasional glimpse of a priest walking by. At the Krishna temple, during the festivities, there is a set of informational posters set up for your perusal. (Many of these posters highlight the overlap between ISKCON and LDS theology, including things LDS prophets have said about cruelty to animals and vegetarianism.) You may also enter the temple and participate in a service. It's all completely pressure-free, which is nice. Perhaps we Mormons are so focused on converting people that we tend toward the overbearing routes instead. That's a shame, really.
Anyway, so we had a fabulous time. As usual. Look, here's a picture, the first picture I've ever put on this lil blog here:
I've been to many events at the Lotus temple, including the popular Holi Fest, the India Fest, and others. I love it there. Not only is it one of the relatively few places around here that has some culture going on, I also just like the atmosphere. You know, what with all the incense, henna, and veggie-tree-hugging-granola types. What can I say? I like hanging out with hippies. Is anyone surprised? I thought not.
So, as we were about to leave, it occurred to me that I might not be coming back any time soon, if ever again. I'm positive I could find a Krishna temple in New York somewhere if I wanted, but still. I wanted to say goodbye. So Husband and I ventured into the temple to savor it one last time. We left our shoes at the door, went up the stairs, and sat on some chairs toward the back of the ornate room. The man leading the mantras had taken a break to share a spiritual thought of sorts. He was talking about the nature of the soul. He said that the soul that's in each of us isn't just for right now. It was somewhere before this life, and it's going somewhere after this life. I was struck by how similar this statement is to LDS theology. Soon, he started back up with the mantras, so we went up to the front, sat cross-legged on the beautiful rug, and joined in the singing.
Just now, I was laying in the dark with my eyes closed, and one of those mantras got stuck in my head. "Jaya Sita Ram, Jaya Jaya Hanuman." There's definitely something to chanting. It's relaxing, somehow. I started thinking about reincarnation. Surely, when the man was talking about the eternal nature of the soul, he was thinking of reincarnation. It occurred to me, as it has in the past, that maybe the idea of reincarnation is not at odds with LDS theology at all.
The third chapter of the book of Abraham calls premortal beings "intelligences." Verses 18 and 19 of that chapter says,
If there be two spirits, and one shall be more intelligent than the other, yet these two spirits, notwithstanding one is more intelligent than the other, have no beginning; they existed before, they shall have no end, they shall exist after, for they are . . . eternal . . . These two facts do exist, that there are two spirits, one being more intelligent than the other; there shall be another more intelligent than they; I am the Lord thy God, I am more intelligent than they all.This scripture is strikingly similar to the man's statement above. (In fact, we talk about intelligences a lot, although it's not always clear exactly what they are. They seem to be related to light, truth, knowledge, spirit, and matter.) Moses 3 says that all things were created spiritually before they were created naturally. It implies that even plants have a spirit that existed before the plant's tenure on Earth.
We also have a lot of scriptures about gaining intelligence. They say that the glory of God is intelligence, and that the more intelligence we receive in this life, the better off we will be in the next life. That sounds a little reincarnation-like. The scriptures say we receive light, or intelligence, little by little, grace to grace. We are taught to be obedient to the light/knowledge/intelligence that we have been given, or else we will lose that light and regress. Could it be that plants, animals, or other "lower" organisms are on the same path toward gaining intelligence as we are, but are just a little behind us on that path? Reincarnation does technically mean re-embodiment. While perhaps the idea that a human can be reincarnated as another human does not jive, could plants and animals be reincarnated as humans at some later point in the universe? Or, could we think of resurrection as reincarnation? That makes sense, particularly if we throw in the idea that those who inherit celestial glory are resurrected to celestial bodies, those who inherit terrestrial glory are resurrected to terrestrial bodies, etc.
Going back to Abraham 3, God says that s/he is the most intelligent of all beings. According to LDS theology, our purpose in life is to become like God. Could it be that eternal life and nirvana are one and the same? They both describe the act of becoming one with the Supreme Being. (Also, atonement literally means at-one-ment.) God, being omniscient and omnipotent, has power over the universe. Is God not then "one" with the universe as well? Could becoming one with God also mean becoming one with the universe?
I believe that all religions have some truth to them. Certainly the Mormons don't have it all. (Although many like to think that.) Hinduism, and its offshoots, are particularly interesting due to its age. And its belief in goddesses.
Anyway, these are my late-night musings. I should probably stop now. I'll end with this: if you ever get the chance to visit a Hare Krishna temple, do it. Also, I want a pet llama.
Monday, May 21, 2012
On Not-So-Simple Gifts, Spiritual Ineptitude, and the God Gene
Lately, I've been thinking about spiritual gifts and whether some people possess some kind of intrinsically faithful/spiritual nature.
My mom is so naturally faithful, she started walking by herself to the local Christian church when she was five or so. She joined the LDS church at age thirteen (when her parents finally consented) after several years of investigating. My dad, a twenty-plus year investigator and now a convert of seven years, bases the foundations of his testimony on his assertion that a man with as little education as Joseph Smith could never have written the Book of Mormon and all that. (He says he's grown beyond just that, but it's still an important component.) He does not read scriptures. It is difficult to describe his naturally unspiritual take on life.
I guess I'm somewhere in the middle, but I lean more toward my dad's side. I fundamentally believe in Jesus Christ and the atonement as presented in LDS theology (perhaps because of my upbringing). But I think my devotion (in all its wavering) is primarily based in intellectual interest. I enjoy putting the pieces of deep doctrine together, reading the scriptures and extrapolating meaning, understanding context by studying church history (warts and all). It's the philosophizing that is so agreeable to me. Seminary was a joy, because I had an extraordinarily well-versed scriptorian and theologian for a teacher. I prefer the Bible to the Book of Mormon because it is far more poetic and not nearly so cut and dry; I enjoy ambiguous biblical philosophy infinitely more that dull, re-hashed Book of Mormon storyline.
Add to all that that I have never received any kind of revelation. Not even in my most faithful days. I prayed then, to receive a witness of the Book of Mormon, to get guidance for life, to know who I should choose for my counselors in whichever position . . . but I've never gotten anything. I remember crying at one of those overly-emotional youth meetings as I bore my testimony and mentioned that I "have trouble receiving revelation." I remember another time at institute when some guy recited the first vision from JSH 1:17-19 in like Mandarin or something. After he did that, he said "now, even though that was in a different language, didn't you still feel the Spirit as I spoke, testifying of the truthfulness of the story?" My mind answered with a blatant, "Um, no." I asked my friend about it later, but she insisted she had felt spiritual confirmation during the recitation. And that was when I believed Joseph Smith was nigh unto deity. (Hint: I no longer believe that. Not even close.)
Perhaps I exaggerate. Perhaps the extent of my revelatory experiences is limited to following my moral compass. It goes thusly: "God is no respecter of persons." I like that. That resonates with my deeply-held belief that all people are equal. I believe that to be true. Or: "Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife . . . so let the wives be to their own husbands in every thing." Hmm. If God really insists that I be subservient to my husband, I would rather go to hell. This scripture goes against every fiber of my being. I believe this is a load of crap. In other words, I feel happy when I hear philosophies I like, and I feel bad when I hear philosophies I don't like. And I hear a lot of both in LDS theology (as well as other belief systems).
Of those classic faith-promoting stories, however, what with bosom burning, distinct feelings, any evidence of divine communication, I've got nothing. Now you may be thinking that because I'm having a faith transition, I'm moving backwards and "losing that which I had." You may think that I've just forgotten. But I haven't. As illustrated in the stories above, I was struggling with this even in my Molliest, Mormoniest days. And you devoted followers will remember my vain struggle for confirmation of my marital decision.
I was talking to my husband about this the other day. He was describing some profound revelatory experiences in his family, including visions, dreams, prophesying, strong impressions, answers to prayers, etc. Many of these were his own. When I expressed dismay due to my dearth of revelation, he suggested that perhaps I just lack the spiritual gift of receiving revelation. When I shared this possibility with a good friend of mine, she told me not to write myself off as spiritually inept - that it takes a lifetime to understand the way God speaks to us.
So here's my question: is it possible that I am spiritually incapable of having miraculous revelatory experiences? Is it necessary to have some kind of spiritual gift to receive revelation?
Mormons believe that everyone has spiritual gifts of one kind or another. These may include gifts of faith, healing, prophecy, discernment, knowledge, miracles, etc. It is acknowledged that there are more spiritual gifts than are listed in any of our religious texts. As the scriptures say, different people have different gifts; some people have more and some have less. If this is true, then I must have at least one spiritual gift in there somewhere. I've wondered if perhaps I have the gift of charity (if that's even one of them), but usually that one makes me more disaffected with my religion than less. What I need right now is some kind of faith-promoting gift.
I have skimmed some genome-wide association studies linking the ability to have spiritual experiences with genetics. I wonder about the possibility of genetically-encoded spiritual gifts. Could it be that my genes have predisposed me to a life of disgruntled, unaffirmed doubting and floundering? Are spiritual gifts even real? Do you, dear reader, believe in spiritual gifts, spiritual experiences, or the possibility of communication with God? If these things are real, then where are my spiritual gifts, and how long do I have to suffer until I find them? If ever I was in need of revelation, it's now.
My mom is so naturally faithful, she started walking by herself to the local Christian church when she was five or so. She joined the LDS church at age thirteen (when her parents finally consented) after several years of investigating. My dad, a twenty-plus year investigator and now a convert of seven years, bases the foundations of his testimony on his assertion that a man with as little education as Joseph Smith could never have written the Book of Mormon and all that. (He says he's grown beyond just that, but it's still an important component.) He does not read scriptures. It is difficult to describe his naturally unspiritual take on life.
I guess I'm somewhere in the middle, but I lean more toward my dad's side. I fundamentally believe in Jesus Christ and the atonement as presented in LDS theology (perhaps because of my upbringing). But I think my devotion (in all its wavering) is primarily based in intellectual interest. I enjoy putting the pieces of deep doctrine together, reading the scriptures and extrapolating meaning, understanding context by studying church history (warts and all). It's the philosophizing that is so agreeable to me. Seminary was a joy, because I had an extraordinarily well-versed scriptorian and theologian for a teacher. I prefer the Bible to the Book of Mormon because it is far more poetic and not nearly so cut and dry; I enjoy ambiguous biblical philosophy infinitely more that dull, re-hashed Book of Mormon storyline.
Add to all that that I have never received any kind of revelation. Not even in my most faithful days. I prayed then, to receive a witness of the Book of Mormon, to get guidance for life, to know who I should choose for my counselors in whichever position . . . but I've never gotten anything. I remember crying at one of those overly-emotional youth meetings as I bore my testimony and mentioned that I "have trouble receiving revelation." I remember another time at institute when some guy recited the first vision from JSH 1:17-19 in like Mandarin or something. After he did that, he said "now, even though that was in a different language, didn't you still feel the Spirit as I spoke, testifying of the truthfulness of the story?" My mind answered with a blatant, "Um, no." I asked my friend about it later, but she insisted she had felt spiritual confirmation during the recitation. And that was when I believed Joseph Smith was nigh unto deity. (Hint: I no longer believe that. Not even close.)
Perhaps I exaggerate. Perhaps the extent of my revelatory experiences is limited to following my moral compass. It goes thusly: "God is no respecter of persons." I like that. That resonates with my deeply-held belief that all people are equal. I believe that to be true. Or: "Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife . . . so let the wives be to their own husbands in every thing." Hmm. If God really insists that I be subservient to my husband, I would rather go to hell. This scripture goes against every fiber of my being. I believe this is a load of crap. In other words, I feel happy when I hear philosophies I like, and I feel bad when I hear philosophies I don't like. And I hear a lot of both in LDS theology (as well as other belief systems).
Of those classic faith-promoting stories, however, what with bosom burning, distinct feelings, any evidence of divine communication, I've got nothing. Now you may be thinking that because I'm having a faith transition, I'm moving backwards and "losing that which I had." You may think that I've just forgotten. But I haven't. As illustrated in the stories above, I was struggling with this even in my Molliest, Mormoniest days. And you devoted followers will remember my vain struggle for confirmation of my marital decision.
I was talking to my husband about this the other day. He was describing some profound revelatory experiences in his family, including visions, dreams, prophesying, strong impressions, answers to prayers, etc. Many of these were his own. When I expressed dismay due to my dearth of revelation, he suggested that perhaps I just lack the spiritual gift of receiving revelation. When I shared this possibility with a good friend of mine, she told me not to write myself off as spiritually inept - that it takes a lifetime to understand the way God speaks to us.
So here's my question: is it possible that I am spiritually incapable of having miraculous revelatory experiences? Is it necessary to have some kind of spiritual gift to receive revelation?
Mormons believe that everyone has spiritual gifts of one kind or another. These may include gifts of faith, healing, prophecy, discernment, knowledge, miracles, etc. It is acknowledged that there are more spiritual gifts than are listed in any of our religious texts. As the scriptures say, different people have different gifts; some people have more and some have less. If this is true, then I must have at least one spiritual gift in there somewhere. I've wondered if perhaps I have the gift of charity (if that's even one of them), but usually that one makes me more disaffected with my religion than less. What I need right now is some kind of faith-promoting gift.
I have skimmed some genome-wide association studies linking the ability to have spiritual experiences with genetics. I wonder about the possibility of genetically-encoded spiritual gifts. Could it be that my genes have predisposed me to a life of disgruntled, unaffirmed doubting and floundering? Are spiritual gifts even real? Do you, dear reader, believe in spiritual gifts, spiritual experiences, or the possibility of communication with God? If these things are real, then where are my spiritual gifts, and how long do I have to suffer until I find them? If ever I was in need of revelation, it's now.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
An Update About My Way Fun Life
Hey blogosphere! I know this is not the purpose of my blog, but I want to let all my blogger friends (yes, you!) know what's up.
It's officially decided. There is a light at the end of the dark, dank tunnel that is living in Utah. In August, we will be moving to New York because I will be attending Sarah Lawrence's human genetics/genetic counseling Master's program!
Things didn't work out exactly how I'd planned, but now that the decision is made, I'm getting more excited about it. I was overwhelmed with NYC when I went there to interview ('twas my first time), but now I'm warming up to the idea of living there. Husband and I will probably live outside of the city a bit, maybe even in Connecticut. We really want pets. And maybe a garden. (Sometimes we go on dates to animal shelters and coo over the furry inmates.) Sarah Lawrence is actually in a suburb just outside of the city as well. So all of that will probably help me not feel so much like a cockroach.
I decided not to do the Ph.D. program at VCU because I fear that after five plus years, I will never go back and get the genetic counseling degree. There was a chance that they'd combine the two for me at VCU, but that didn't happen. I decided that I ultimately want to be a genetic counselor, so I'm making that a priority. Perhaps I'll apply for doctoral programs again after the Master's is got.
Sarah Lawrence was not my favorite, but in the end it's the only genetic counseling program that accepted me. I was rejected from one (Stanford, no surprise there), and wait-listed at three. This was unexpected, since I felt really good about my interviews at these other places. My pride is currently sustaining some injuries, but I guess I'll get over it. I believe Sarah Lawrence has a good reputation in the genetic counseling profession. I mean, it was invented there, after all! It is known as being the "touchy feely school," but the directors counteracted that rumor. I know I'll get all kinds of varied experiences there, and the program seems well-suited to personal adaptation. I am concerned about the large class size there (twenty-five students where most programs accept five to ten), and am mourning the loss of a more intimate group of classmates. It isn't at a medical school like I would have preferred, and it doesn't have complex quantitative genetics or psychiatric genetics (my particular topics of interest) going on specifically, but I think I can tailor it the way I want it. It's only two years, right?
I think I got in because I told them that in Utah I'm considered a "flaming liberal." The interviewer seemed to like that. I saw her write that exact phrase down on her notepad!
So at the moment I'm feeling kind of disappointed, but I just have to keep reminding myself of all the awesome things I can do in New York. Can you help a sister out? What are the perks of living in the Big Apple?
It's officially decided. There is a light at the end of the dark, dank tunnel that is living in Utah. In August, we will be moving to New York because I will be attending Sarah Lawrence's human genetics/genetic counseling Master's program!
Things didn't work out exactly how I'd planned, but now that the decision is made, I'm getting more excited about it. I was overwhelmed with NYC when I went there to interview ('twas my first time), but now I'm warming up to the idea of living there. Husband and I will probably live outside of the city a bit, maybe even in Connecticut. We really want pets. And maybe a garden. (Sometimes we go on dates to animal shelters and coo over the furry inmates.) Sarah Lawrence is actually in a suburb just outside of the city as well. So all of that will probably help me not feel so much like a cockroach.
I decided not to do the Ph.D. program at VCU because I fear that after five plus years, I will never go back and get the genetic counseling degree. There was a chance that they'd combine the two for me at VCU, but that didn't happen. I decided that I ultimately want to be a genetic counselor, so I'm making that a priority. Perhaps I'll apply for doctoral programs again after the Master's is got.
Sarah Lawrence was not my favorite, but in the end it's the only genetic counseling program that accepted me. I was rejected from one (Stanford, no surprise there), and wait-listed at three. This was unexpected, since I felt really good about my interviews at these other places. My pride is currently sustaining some injuries, but I guess I'll get over it. I believe Sarah Lawrence has a good reputation in the genetic counseling profession. I mean, it was invented there, after all! It is known as being the "touchy feely school," but the directors counteracted that rumor. I know I'll get all kinds of varied experiences there, and the program seems well-suited to personal adaptation. I am concerned about the large class size there (twenty-five students where most programs accept five to ten), and am mourning the loss of a more intimate group of classmates. It isn't at a medical school like I would have preferred, and it doesn't have complex quantitative genetics or psychiatric genetics (my particular topics of interest) going on specifically, but I think I can tailor it the way I want it. It's only two years, right?
I think I got in because I told them that in Utah I'm considered a "flaming liberal." The interviewer seemed to like that. I saw her write that exact phrase down on her notepad!
So at the moment I'm feeling kind of disappointed, but I just have to keep reminding myself of all the awesome things I can do in New York. Can you help a sister out? What are the perks of living in the Big Apple?
Saturday, April 21, 2012
It Is Not Enough
A couple of posts ago, a commenter asked me what changes I want to see in Mormonism or in the world. While they are far too numerous to list in a single post, here is one that has been haunting me for nearly a year now.
I just read a fantastic post over at Zelophehad's Daugthers about the sexist nature of Mormon cosmology. While I wouldn't assert that Mormonism's cosmology is the most sexist, per say, this post lists a lot of issues I have with the male-centric treatment of eternity in Mormon theology. Don't get me wrong, there are many things I love about Mormon cosmology, like the incorporation of the law of conservation of mass, the idea that we have always existed, and the almost reincarnation-like idea of eternal progression. So much of Mormon cosmology is beautiful, but it is incomplete in its presentation. It is presented from an entirely male point of view. As the ZD post mentions, while Jehovah, Adam/Michael, Abraham, and Peter, James, and John all play a role in premortality, there is no mention of Eve, Sarah, Mary, or any other woman in our premortal dialogue. And that includes Heavenly Mother. We are taught that the plan of salvation was Heavenly Father's, and that he taught it to all of us, his spirit children. Did Heavenly Mother have no say in this plan? Did she not teach it to us as well? Were all of the pre-Earth logistics undertaken by men alone? What were all of us female types doing that whole time? Why haven't these questions been addressed?
I am grateful that we have a Heavenly Mother at all. Given the Mormon doctrine that sex/gender is an eternal characteristic, it would stand to reason that a literally male god would have a literally female equivalent (unless you want to go down that "everyone was male until God created Lilith/Eve/Pandora and thereby introduced evil into the world" road, which I, of course, do not). But somehow, it is not necessary that we know a single thing about her, except that she exists. Men can look at all the information we have about Heavenly Father, and have some idea as to what to expect, should they succeed in attaining exaltation. They can expect to create worlds, have eternal posterity, and be omniscient and omnipotent. Women have exactly none of that. I have almost no idea what exaltation would hold for me; I only have what I learn in the temple. There, I learn that I am to be obedient to my husband and that I "get to" be a priestess to him. So all I can gather is that I am bound to an eternity of servitude and childbearing. To be honest, if that picture is accurate, I don't want exaltation. I'd rather chill in a lower echelon of glory where everyone is equally in second place.
When visiting my husband’s home ward last Christmas, I attended the gospel essentials class taught by my fabulous feminist mother-in-law. It was on Heavenly Father, and at some point in the lesson I made a comment about Heavenly Mother. After church, my fabulous feminist father-in-law came up to me and kindly told me that I can’t mention Heavenly Mother in a gospel essentials class where investigators and new members are present. I replied that I see no reason why that should not be addressed, and he answered that the doctrine of Heavenly Mother is “not essential.” When I tearfully asked why not, he fairly admitted that he didn’t know, and that it was troubling. I was certainly troubled, and went to my room and moped and wept about it a little bit.
That is my question now: why is Heavenly Mother not essential? Why the hell not? Why is it not essential that over half of the church have an inkling of what eternity holds for them? Why do women not warrant actual, knowable role models: a mother, a goddess, a female angel or prophetess? When will the entirely male leaders realize that what we have isn’t enough?
It is not enough for me.
I wish more women (and men) would stand up and admit it with me.
I just read a fantastic post over at Zelophehad's Daugthers about the sexist nature of Mormon cosmology. While I wouldn't assert that Mormonism's cosmology is the most sexist, per say, this post lists a lot of issues I have with the male-centric treatment of eternity in Mormon theology. Don't get me wrong, there are many things I love about Mormon cosmology, like the incorporation of the law of conservation of mass, the idea that we have always existed, and the almost reincarnation-like idea of eternal progression. So much of Mormon cosmology is beautiful, but it is incomplete in its presentation. It is presented from an entirely male point of view. As the ZD post mentions, while Jehovah, Adam/Michael, Abraham, and Peter, James, and John all play a role in premortality, there is no mention of Eve, Sarah, Mary, or any other woman in our premortal dialogue. And that includes Heavenly Mother. We are taught that the plan of salvation was Heavenly Father's, and that he taught it to all of us, his spirit children. Did Heavenly Mother have no say in this plan? Did she not teach it to us as well? Were all of the pre-Earth logistics undertaken by men alone? What were all of us female types doing that whole time? Why haven't these questions been addressed?
I am grateful that we have a Heavenly Mother at all. Given the Mormon doctrine that sex/gender is an eternal characteristic, it would stand to reason that a literally male god would have a literally female equivalent (unless you want to go down that "everyone was male until God created Lilith/Eve/Pandora and thereby introduced evil into the world" road, which I, of course, do not). But somehow, it is not necessary that we know a single thing about her, except that she exists. Men can look at all the information we have about Heavenly Father, and have some idea as to what to expect, should they succeed in attaining exaltation. They can expect to create worlds, have eternal posterity, and be omniscient and omnipotent. Women have exactly none of that. I have almost no idea what exaltation would hold for me; I only have what I learn in the temple. There, I learn that I am to be obedient to my husband and that I "get to" be a priestess to him. So all I can gather is that I am bound to an eternity of servitude and childbearing. To be honest, if that picture is accurate, I don't want exaltation. I'd rather chill in a lower echelon of glory where everyone is equally in second place.
When visiting my husband’s home ward last Christmas, I attended the gospel essentials class taught by my fabulous feminist mother-in-law. It was on Heavenly Father, and at some point in the lesson I made a comment about Heavenly Mother. After church, my fabulous feminist father-in-law came up to me and kindly told me that I can’t mention Heavenly Mother in a gospel essentials class where investigators and new members are present. I replied that I see no reason why that should not be addressed, and he answered that the doctrine of Heavenly Mother is “not essential.” When I tearfully asked why not, he fairly admitted that he didn’t know, and that it was troubling. I was certainly troubled, and went to my room and moped and wept about it a little bit.
That is my question now: why is Heavenly Mother not essential? Why the hell not? Why is it not essential that over half of the church have an inkling of what eternity holds for them? Why do women not warrant actual, knowable role models: a mother, a goddess, a female angel or prophetess? When will the entirely male leaders realize that what we have isn’t enough?
It is not enough for me.
I wish more women (and men) would stand up and admit it with me.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
A Free-For-All Brag Fest
I just read a post on feminist Mormon housewives and have to give it a spin here on my own blog. fMh Lisa, the author of the post, called my attention to the fact that women in our culture are socialized to devalue their accomplishments. In fact, while men consistently tend to overestimate their awesomeness, women consistently tend to underestimate their awesomeness. Why is this the case? Why is a healthy sense of pride desirable in men, but undesirable in women? Humility is certainly a virtue, but self-deprecation is not.
Think about it, ladies: what would you do if another woman complimented you on, say, your toned upper arms? I'd probably waggle one around to make it jiggle and say, "no way, look how flabby they are!" If I were to compliment Husband in the same way, I know exactly how he'd respond. He'd put on a gruff voice and say, "I'm a big strong man!"
I have been attempting to stop myself from devaluing compliments for several years. I try to accept all compliments with sincere thank yous and no qualifiers. But it's so darn hard! And that's to say nothing of volunteering why I am amazing on my own.
With that in mind, I am going to give it a go right here and now. I am going to tell you my secret shame: why I am proud of myself. I have a strong urge to downplay these. I have a strong urge to admit that so-and-so is better than me at this or that. I have a strong urge to give into the chronic plague that is the imposter syndrome. But I refuse to give place to those urges. So here is a lovely list of ten reasons why I am fabulous:
1. I'm smart. I’m a female scientist. At BYU. I have participated in lots of research. I have formed lasting relationships with several excellent professors who think very highly of me. I am an excellent genetics TA. I'm good at giving presentations - and actually enjoy it.
2. I’ve been accepted into a PhD program.
3. I did a summer internship in Germany and was successful there.
4. I can sing really well. I am astounded at the progress I’ve made in sight-singing in the past five years. I’ve sung in a choir for twelve consecutive years now.
5. I have an aptitude for dancing. I have varying levels of experience with ballet, tap, jazz, contemporary, ballroom, swing, and hip hop. I’m currently learning to belly dance, and I’m good at it!
6. I've got a nice tush! Seriously, ask anyone.
7. I’ve got class, charisma, and culture (and I'm good at using alliteration!). I'm adept at writing genuine thank-you notes. I like to help people around me. I volunteer at a battered women's shelter, where I give real service to people who have great need. When I want to, I can command the attention of a room. I have a sizable knowledge of art, literature, music, politics, history, religion, and of course science.
8. For two summers, I volunteered at the Pageant of the Masters in Laguna Beach, California, where I was painted from head to toe (practically) on a nightly basis and posed as a tableau vivant! In other words, I pretended to be paintings and sculptures. To about 125,000 people each year. Here's one of the pieces I did (I was the one on the left).
9. I'm left-handed!
10. I dare to be an outspoken, liberal, feminist Mormon! I'm no longer afraid to say what I'm thinking in church. I'm no longer afraid of people who think or live differently than I do.
Whew! I won't tell you how long that took. Or how difficult it was to refrain from self-deprecation. Then again, are these last two sentences my way of implying that I really am humble? Curses! Oh well, I did my best, I suppose.
As some commenters at fMh have said, ultimately I hope we will all be able to believe in our own un-qualified awesomeness without having to list our accomplishments. Someday I hope to embrace my value like the fabulous woman I know from my home ward, who is always saying, "I have unusually high self-esteem for no reason in particular. I just look in the mirror every morning and think, 'I'm fantastic!'"
It's your turn, dear readers! Tell me why you are fabulous, with absolutely no qualifying statements. Okay go!
Think about it, ladies: what would you do if another woman complimented you on, say, your toned upper arms? I'd probably waggle one around to make it jiggle and say, "no way, look how flabby they are!" If I were to compliment Husband in the same way, I know exactly how he'd respond. He'd put on a gruff voice and say, "I'm a big strong man!"
I have been attempting to stop myself from devaluing compliments for several years. I try to accept all compliments with sincere thank yous and no qualifiers. But it's so darn hard! And that's to say nothing of volunteering why I am amazing on my own.
With that in mind, I am going to give it a go right here and now. I am going to tell you my secret shame: why I am proud of myself. I have a strong urge to downplay these. I have a strong urge to admit that so-and-so is better than me at this or that. I have a strong urge to give into the chronic plague that is the imposter syndrome. But I refuse to give place to those urges. So here is a lovely list of ten reasons why I am fabulous:
1. I'm smart. I’m a female scientist. At BYU. I have participated in lots of research. I have formed lasting relationships with several excellent professors who think very highly of me. I am an excellent genetics TA. I'm good at giving presentations - and actually enjoy it.
2. I’ve been accepted into a PhD program.
3. I did a summer internship in Germany and was successful there.
4. I can sing really well. I am astounded at the progress I’ve made in sight-singing in the past five years. I’ve sung in a choir for twelve consecutive years now.
5. I have an aptitude for dancing. I have varying levels of experience with ballet, tap, jazz, contemporary, ballroom, swing, and hip hop. I’m currently learning to belly dance, and I’m good at it!
6. I've got a nice tush! Seriously, ask anyone.
7. I’ve got class, charisma, and culture (and I'm good at using alliteration!). I'm adept at writing genuine thank-you notes. I like to help people around me. I volunteer at a battered women's shelter, where I give real service to people who have great need. When I want to, I can command the attention of a room. I have a sizable knowledge of art, literature, music, politics, history, religion, and of course science.
8. For two summers, I volunteered at the Pageant of the Masters in Laguna Beach, California, where I was painted from head to toe (practically) on a nightly basis and posed as a tableau vivant! In other words, I pretended to be paintings and sculptures. To about 125,000 people each year. Here's one of the pieces I did (I was the one on the left).
9. I'm left-handed!
10. I dare to be an outspoken, liberal, feminist Mormon! I'm no longer afraid to say what I'm thinking in church. I'm no longer afraid of people who think or live differently than I do.
Whew! I won't tell you how long that took. Or how difficult it was to refrain from self-deprecation. Then again, are these last two sentences my way of implying that I really am humble? Curses! Oh well, I did my best, I suppose.
As some commenters at fMh have said, ultimately I hope we will all be able to believe in our own un-qualified awesomeness without having to list our accomplishments. Someday I hope to embrace my value like the fabulous woman I know from my home ward, who is always saying, "I have unusually high self-esteem for no reason in particular. I just look in the mirror every morning and think, 'I'm fantastic!'"
It's your turn, dear readers! Tell me why you are fabulous, with absolutely no qualifying statements. Okay go!
Saturday, March 10, 2012
The Story of My Faith Transition
I wrote this to a bloggernacle friend, and have decided to put it on my blog. I want everyone to know the story of my faith transition, especially those who are going through the same thing.
Growing up, I was the golden girl of the young women's program. I was everything a young Mormon woman should be, I suppose. Except that I didn't babysit and was adamant about becoming a geneticist and going on a mission, which threw some people for a loop. (I identified as a feminist even then, but this was southern California, not Utah, so I didn't get too much flak for it.) Well, I got married instead of going on a mission, so I guess that's another check mark on the list. In high school, I prayed at least twice a day, studied the scriptures daily, had perfect attendance in early-morning seminary, was bright and perky and knowledgeable about sacred and secular topics, was president of the laurel class, was the pinnacle of chastity, was involved in choir and student government, etc, etc. It's kind of nauseating to list. But at the same time, I was happy. The church, the gospel, school, being involved, feeling like I was doing things right, it made me happy. I had a great group of stalwart Mormon friends, and we were always doing silly, fun things. I also had lots of wonderful non-Mormon friends. I got into BYU, and off I went.
I was recently reading the memoir of Mindy Kaling, one of the writers of The Office, who also plays the ditzy Kelly Kapoor. It's a hilarious read. Anyway, one of the chapters is called "Don't Peak in High School." Whoops. My mean happiness level has steadily decreased since high school. Perhaps it's because my little religious habits have waned. Perhaps it's because my group of friends has disbanded somewhat. Or perhaps it's just a part of growing up. Like I thought I was busy in high school . . . psh!
Whatever it was, my testimony did not begin to falter until more recently. I started dating my husband (a democrat with a beard) about two years ago, and with his influence I began to see life from a new perspective. He isn't so much about looking righteous externally as he is about being righteous internally. I think being with him was the impetus of my faith transition. He looks at life through an unorthodox yet faithful lens. He acquired this lens from his parents, whom I adore. I discuss my faith transition openly with them all the time, and they understand because they've been there.
At some point while we were dating, he confessed to me that he suffers from depression and is medicated for it. I loved him and tried not to judge him for it, but being 100% orthodox until then, I believed the folk-doctrines and harbored some ill-feelings toward the depressed (like that it's because of sin or self-absorption). Plus, my mom told me growing up not to marry someone with a disability, because it will make life harder (it sounds so terrible now, but it seemed practical at the time). Things became worse after we got engaged. His depression often messes up his sleep schedule. He kept blowing me off for things because he was asleep. I'd be so excited to see him, I'd wait and wait for him, but he wouldn't come. It felt like having my bubble burst on a daily basis. I was unsure if he actually loved me, or if he was just done being single (which he had said repeatedly), and was settling. I was unsure if I was supposed to marry him. I prayed and cried and prayed some more, but never got an answer. I felt alone in my anxiety. I felt like God wasn't listening.
Then I went to the temple. Despite my fear about God not listening and/or not condoning my choice of mate, I was so excited. I yearn to know the "mysteries of God", and knew that the temple would be full of them and would expand my understanding. I had been through several rounds of temple prep, where teachers had been appropriately frank about the ceremonies. I had read scriptures about signs and tokens. I had also been sealed to my parents at age 20, so I knew about the garb. I thought I was prepared. I don't know what else I could have done, but I certainly wasn't. I wasn't prepared for the sexism I saw there. The temple told me that God doesn't love women as much as he loves men. That I am somehow unworthy to minister as a priestess to God directly. That I am doomed to forever be a servant to my husband. That he gets the crown and I get to be veiled, hidden, and silent. That may not be what most see, but that's what I see. I went home, shut my bedroom door, and cried myself to sleep. I've only been back twice, and I've cried then too. I met with the temple president about it, but it only made things worse. Going to the temple puts me in a funk for about a week. I keep rehashing doctrinal inconsistencies in my mind until I just about go insane. What about "God is no respecter of persons?" What about "God is love?" It appeared that exaltation would be hell for me, not heaven. This compounded the issues I had already been having regarding God listening to me.
I talked to my wonderful mother, mother-in-law, and sister-in-law about it. They all said essentially the same thing: the temple ceremony is inspired by God, but written by men. It has changed in the past, and many women are waiting for it to change again. That answer opened up a whole new can of worms. Prophets are never wrong . . . right?! But if they do make bad calls sometimes, how can I trust them? How can I trust anything they've said? How can I be sure that God is actually in this religion (after all, he didn't seem to want to talk to me, and the temple God was the antithesis of my God)? And all the questions I had suppressed my whole life came bubbling back up. Polygamy? Heavenly Mother? Priesthood ban? Priesthood/motherhood dichotomy? Gay marriage?
So for the last several months, I've been re-evaluating my beliefs. Before the onset of my faith transition, I believe I suffered from "zeal that is not unto knowledge." Hugh Nibley wrote a great essay about zeal without knowledge, based off of a quotation by Joseph Smith. The gist is that if you only have zeal, when your faith is tried you will "shatter like glass." That is exactly what happened to me. Now I'm picking up the pieces and trying to reconstruct a new, real faith. I firmly believe in Jesus, in the atonement, in a Mother and Father God. I believe that God loves everyone equally, and any evidence to the contrary is the byproduct of humans not loving everyone equally. I believe that charity is the most important attribute to gain in this life. I believe in universal salvation as exhibited in the plan of salvation (everyone is resurrected and receives glory in the end). I want to believe in personal revelation, but I'm still working out how to receive it. With a belief in personal revelation, it becomes much easier to navigate the prophet issue. I can still believe in prophets as people who receive revelation sometimes, interpret revelation in funky ways sometimes, and are left to their own devices sometimes. I must then use my own personal revelation to determine which statements fall into which category. I'm still working out the kinks, as you can see.
This whole thing has required a lot of pondering, crying, loathing, loving, and studying. I've read more about my religion in these past few months than I probably ever did during my orthodox days. Feminist Mormon Housewives has been indispensable. Husband and I clashed about it at first, but he's come to see things from my perspective and is now sympathetic and totally supportive. In fact, I finally feel completely confident in my decision to marry him, because precious few Mormon men could handle the person I have become! I'm the unorthodox one now! I appreciate where my faith is at the moment: it's less about a righteousness checklist and more about loving and being genuine. I am not as happy as I was in high school, but I feel wiser. Ignorance is bliss, I suppose.
Your turn. Have you had a faith transition (not necessarily a Mormon one)? What was it like?
Growing up, I was the golden girl of the young women's program. I was everything a young Mormon woman should be, I suppose. Except that I didn't babysit and was adamant about becoming a geneticist and going on a mission, which threw some people for a loop. (I identified as a feminist even then, but this was southern California, not Utah, so I didn't get too much flak for it.) Well, I got married instead of going on a mission, so I guess that's another check mark on the list. In high school, I prayed at least twice a day, studied the scriptures daily, had perfect attendance in early-morning seminary, was bright and perky and knowledgeable about sacred and secular topics, was president of the laurel class, was the pinnacle of chastity, was involved in choir and student government, etc, etc. It's kind of nauseating to list. But at the same time, I was happy. The church, the gospel, school, being involved, feeling like I was doing things right, it made me happy. I had a great group of stalwart Mormon friends, and we were always doing silly, fun things. I also had lots of wonderful non-Mormon friends. I got into BYU, and off I went.
I was recently reading the memoir of Mindy Kaling, one of the writers of The Office, who also plays the ditzy Kelly Kapoor. It's a hilarious read. Anyway, one of the chapters is called "Don't Peak in High School." Whoops. My mean happiness level has steadily decreased since high school. Perhaps it's because my little religious habits have waned. Perhaps it's because my group of friends has disbanded somewhat. Or perhaps it's just a part of growing up. Like I thought I was busy in high school . . . psh!
Whatever it was, my testimony did not begin to falter until more recently. I started dating my husband (a democrat with a beard) about two years ago, and with his influence I began to see life from a new perspective. He isn't so much about looking righteous externally as he is about being righteous internally. I think being with him was the impetus of my faith transition. He looks at life through an unorthodox yet faithful lens. He acquired this lens from his parents, whom I adore. I discuss my faith transition openly with them all the time, and they understand because they've been there.
At some point while we were dating, he confessed to me that he suffers from depression and is medicated for it. I loved him and tried not to judge him for it, but being 100% orthodox until then, I believed the folk-doctrines and harbored some ill-feelings toward the depressed (like that it's because of sin or self-absorption). Plus, my mom told me growing up not to marry someone with a disability, because it will make life harder (it sounds so terrible now, but it seemed practical at the time). Things became worse after we got engaged. His depression often messes up his sleep schedule. He kept blowing me off for things because he was asleep. I'd be so excited to see him, I'd wait and wait for him, but he wouldn't come. It felt like having my bubble burst on a daily basis. I was unsure if he actually loved me, or if he was just done being single (which he had said repeatedly), and was settling. I was unsure if I was supposed to marry him. I prayed and cried and prayed some more, but never got an answer. I felt alone in my anxiety. I felt like God wasn't listening.
Then I went to the temple. Despite my fear about God not listening and/or not condoning my choice of mate, I was so excited. I yearn to know the "mysteries of God", and knew that the temple would be full of them and would expand my understanding. I had been through several rounds of temple prep, where teachers had been appropriately frank about the ceremonies. I had read scriptures about signs and tokens. I had also been sealed to my parents at age 20, so I knew about the garb. I thought I was prepared. I don't know what else I could have done, but I certainly wasn't. I wasn't prepared for the sexism I saw there. The temple told me that God doesn't love women as much as he loves men. That I am somehow unworthy to minister as a priestess to God directly. That I am doomed to forever be a servant to my husband. That he gets the crown and I get to be veiled, hidden, and silent. That may not be what most see, but that's what I see. I went home, shut my bedroom door, and cried myself to sleep. I've only been back twice, and I've cried then too. I met with the temple president about it, but it only made things worse. Going to the temple puts me in a funk for about a week. I keep rehashing doctrinal inconsistencies in my mind until I just about go insane. What about "God is no respecter of persons?" What about "God is love?" It appeared that exaltation would be hell for me, not heaven. This compounded the issues I had already been having regarding God listening to me.
I talked to my wonderful mother, mother-in-law, and sister-in-law about it. They all said essentially the same thing: the temple ceremony is inspired by God, but written by men. It has changed in the past, and many women are waiting for it to change again. That answer opened up a whole new can of worms. Prophets are never wrong . . . right?! But if they do make bad calls sometimes, how can I trust them? How can I trust anything they've said? How can I be sure that God is actually in this religion (after all, he didn't seem to want to talk to me, and the temple God was the antithesis of my God)? And all the questions I had suppressed my whole life came bubbling back up. Polygamy? Heavenly Mother? Priesthood ban? Priesthood/motherhood dichotomy? Gay marriage?
So for the last several months, I've been re-evaluating my beliefs. Before the onset of my faith transition, I believe I suffered from "zeal that is not unto knowledge." Hugh Nibley wrote a great essay about zeal without knowledge, based off of a quotation by Joseph Smith. The gist is that if you only have zeal, when your faith is tried you will "shatter like glass." That is exactly what happened to me. Now I'm picking up the pieces and trying to reconstruct a new, real faith. I firmly believe in Jesus, in the atonement, in a Mother and Father God. I believe that God loves everyone equally, and any evidence to the contrary is the byproduct of humans not loving everyone equally. I believe that charity is the most important attribute to gain in this life. I believe in universal salvation as exhibited in the plan of salvation (everyone is resurrected and receives glory in the end). I want to believe in personal revelation, but I'm still working out how to receive it. With a belief in personal revelation, it becomes much easier to navigate the prophet issue. I can still believe in prophets as people who receive revelation sometimes, interpret revelation in funky ways sometimes, and are left to their own devices sometimes. I must then use my own personal revelation to determine which statements fall into which category. I'm still working out the kinks, as you can see.
This whole thing has required a lot of pondering, crying, loathing, loving, and studying. I've read more about my religion in these past few months than I probably ever did during my orthodox days. Feminist Mormon Housewives has been indispensable. Husband and I clashed about it at first, but he's come to see things from my perspective and is now sympathetic and totally supportive. In fact, I finally feel completely confident in my decision to marry him, because precious few Mormon men could handle the person I have become! I'm the unorthodox one now! I appreciate where my faith is at the moment: it's less about a righteousness checklist and more about loving and being genuine. I am not as happy as I was in high school, but I feel wiser. Ignorance is bliss, I suppose.
Your turn. Have you had a faith transition (not necessarily a Mormon one)? What was it like?
Saturday, March 3, 2012
The Red Pill: Learning the Language of Sexism
Well my last post certainly generated some controversy. When writing it, I thought a long time about how to phrase everything, constantly thinking, "is this too controversial?" Husband told me it was good, and eventually I just said screw it and hit publish. I genuinely feel bad that some people think that my emerging feminism has made me little more than a whiny complainer. I have been told by several people that I'm looking solely for the bad and ignoring the good. One person even suggested that the negativity on my blog attests to my need to see a psychiatrist and be medicated. Let me borrow a metaphor from this article.
I took three years of Spanish in high school. Before freshman Spanish 1, I was barely aware when Spanish was spoken within my hearing. It blended into the background, a part of the white noise that hums along unnoticed. Once I started learning the meaning of those words and syllables, Spanish jumped out of the white noise. It suddenly had meaning. I heard it everywhere. In fact, it was everywhere. Similarly, have you ever learned the meaning of a new word and suddenly begun hearing it all over the place? Did everyone learn that word at the same moment you did? No! It was being used all around you the whole time, but you didn't know what it meant, so you didn't notice it.
Learning about sexism and other forms of discrimination is akin to learning a new language. You learn what it sounds like, what it looks like, what it feels like. You learn the common usage first (say, sexual harassment in the workplace), and move on to more advanced topics later (understanding the scope of the patriarchy and rape culture). As you learn, your eyes are opened. You see what "wasn't there" before. What used to be unremarkable business-as-usual jumps out and proclaims its true meaning to you. In reality, it was there the whole time; you just didn't see it. As you become more fluent, you see sexism everywhere (because it is everywhere). With time, you start to see that it is inescapable. It is our world. It is in the air that we breathe.
So here I am now. I see sexism everywhere. I feel like Neo, who has recently discovered the matrix. Oh, I saw a few flaws in the matrix before I took that red pill (why have I never read a book in school written by a woman? Why do all the ladies in young women's look uncomfortable when I talk about becoming a geneticist?). But now that I'm fully unplugged, the world looks different to me than it did before. It looks different to me than it does to those who have not learned the language, who still think the matrix is reality. And you know what? The view from where I now stand is profoundly frightening, infuriating, depressing at times. I'm not going to lie, it's hard to be a feminist and stay positive. I often feel like I'm the only one who is aware, who speaks this language, who sees the matrix for what it is. I feel like everyone else is content to live a virtual life, to be hampered in by the patriarchy. I feel like I'm struggling against an insurmountable enemy.
This is why I don't write shiny happy unicorn and rainbow posts. I do see good, but I can discuss that with anyone, anywhere. That is not the purpose of this blog. I write in the hopes of finding people who speak my language, who notice the green tinge of the world. I write so I can at least pretend that someone understands me - so I can express my thoughts and feelings somewhere. I write to show the world a small portion of the inequality I see in't, in the hopes that someone else will start to see the matrix for what it is.
To you who chose the blue pill, know that I sometimes envy you. I often wish that I could go back to my life of unquestioning faith. I wish I could believe in a just world. I wish I could believe in the benefits of rigid gender roles. I wish I could believe in infallible, non-racist, non-sexist leaders with black-and-white answers. It really is so comfortable to believe every word of your culture and religion, to feel like you belong. But that world is no longer mine. I made my choice. I left the cave, went down the rabbit hole. I can't go back - it's not possible. Sorry to disappoint.
I took three years of Spanish in high school. Before freshman Spanish 1, I was barely aware when Spanish was spoken within my hearing. It blended into the background, a part of the white noise that hums along unnoticed. Once I started learning the meaning of those words and syllables, Spanish jumped out of the white noise. It suddenly had meaning. I heard it everywhere. In fact, it was everywhere. Similarly, have you ever learned the meaning of a new word and suddenly begun hearing it all over the place? Did everyone learn that word at the same moment you did? No! It was being used all around you the whole time, but you didn't know what it meant, so you didn't notice it.
Learning about sexism and other forms of discrimination is akin to learning a new language. You learn what it sounds like, what it looks like, what it feels like. You learn the common usage first (say, sexual harassment in the workplace), and move on to more advanced topics later (understanding the scope of the patriarchy and rape culture). As you learn, your eyes are opened. You see what "wasn't there" before. What used to be unremarkable business-as-usual jumps out and proclaims its true meaning to you. In reality, it was there the whole time; you just didn't see it. As you become more fluent, you see sexism everywhere (because it is everywhere). With time, you start to see that it is inescapable. It is our world. It is in the air that we breathe.
So here I am now. I see sexism everywhere. I feel like Neo, who has recently discovered the matrix. Oh, I saw a few flaws in the matrix before I took that red pill (why have I never read a book in school written by a woman? Why do all the ladies in young women's look uncomfortable when I talk about becoming a geneticist?). But now that I'm fully unplugged, the world looks different to me than it did before. It looks different to me than it does to those who have not learned the language, who still think the matrix is reality. And you know what? The view from where I now stand is profoundly frightening, infuriating, depressing at times. I'm not going to lie, it's hard to be a feminist and stay positive. I often feel like I'm the only one who is aware, who speaks this language, who sees the matrix for what it is. I feel like everyone else is content to live a virtual life, to be hampered in by the patriarchy. I feel like I'm struggling against an insurmountable enemy.
This is why I don't write shiny happy unicorn and rainbow posts. I do see good, but I can discuss that with anyone, anywhere. That is not the purpose of this blog. I write in the hopes of finding people who speak my language, who notice the green tinge of the world. I write so I can at least pretend that someone understands me - so I can express my thoughts and feelings somewhere. I write to show the world a small portion of the inequality I see in't, in the hopes that someone else will start to see the matrix for what it is.
To you who chose the blue pill, know that I sometimes envy you. I often wish that I could go back to my life of unquestioning faith. I wish I could believe in a just world. I wish I could believe in the benefits of rigid gender roles. I wish I could believe in infallible, non-racist, non-sexist leaders with black-and-white answers. It really is so comfortable to believe every word of your culture and religion, to feel like you belong. But that world is no longer mine. I made my choice. I left the cave, went down the rabbit hole. I can't go back - it's not possible. Sorry to disappoint.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Stone Throwing in Relief Society
I left Relief Society literally shaking with rage today.
The lesson? "Standing in holy places", from an address given by President Monson last October. Sounds like a typical Relief Society lesson. I surmise I could make something decent out of it if I had been asked to teach it. Unfortunately, the well-meaning teacher started out with this question:
How have you seen the world worsen since you were younger?
Oh yes. Well. It started out alright (depravity on TV, increasing sexualization of women and children), but quickly devolved from there.
One woman mentioned the horror that is sex education, especially since abstinence is no longer taught. (False. I guarantee the majority of sex ed classes will at some point say that abstinence is the only sure-fire way to prevent pregnancy and STDs. However, it is clear that teaching abstinence alone does not work with teenagers.) She gloried in the days when parents didn't have to talk to their children about sex at all (because who wants to talk to their innocent children about something so dirty and vile?).
Another told us that her high school now provides daycare services for its students. (I admit it is legitimately sad that this school needs a daycare). She then went on to say that when she was in high school, one girl got pregnant, and she never saw that girl again. She implied this was a good thing (because of course girls who get pregnant in high school ought to be hidden and denied their education [the boys responsible require no such punishment]).
There was mention of women choosing to have children without husbands. According to my Relief Society, such women should know that God does not approve of them being mothers and that a house without a husband is "unstable" (even though it was acknowledged most women who choose this are well educated, high-earners in their thirties. But apparently it's not okay to want a child unless you're married.)
Of course homosexuality and gay marriage were mentioned. (I don't know how I feel about this anymore. My gut says to let everyone live their lives as they will. I certainly regret my involvement in the California brouhaha.)
People on welfare were subtly put down, and one girl explained how sad it was that there are oodles of moms on TV with careers, and how "the stay-at-home-dad is often the funniest character on the show." (This one hits home as I had a working mom and a SAHD growing up.) She ended with a familiar spiel about the unique nurturing capabilities that only women have (deep breaths).
The teacher then read this quotation from President Monson's address: "It is essential that we reject anything that does not conform to our standards, refusing in the process to surrender that which we desire most: eternal life in the kingdom of God." I raised my hand. I said that we must differentiate between "reject" and "judge." I openly admitted that the conversation was making me uncomfortable because I felt like there was a lot of judgment going on. I said that we should stand by what the prophets say (a statement I only partly agree with), but that doesn't mean we should judge people who don't live our way of life. What's going to happen when you meet a homosexual person? Are you going to reject him or her? Jesus told us to love everyone. What did he say to the woman taken in adultery? He told her that he didn't condemn her. Just love people and leave judgment to God.
I should have said more. I should have said that no one is perfect. I should have said that Jesus told those accusing the woman that they, as sinners, have no right to cast stones. I should have said that I bet there are women in the room who have struggled with some of the things that are being bashed. That at least one woman in that room will have a child who is gay or who gets pregnant out of wedlock. That, in my opinion, President Monson meant that we should live our own lives in accordance with our standards, not shun all who do not live their lives in that way. That President Monson's talk was actually about prayer. That being a SAHD or promoting sex ed is not the same as "surrender[ing] . . . eternal life in the kindgom of God." I should have said that such judgmental opinions are the exact things that give Mormons a bad name and drive people away from/out of the church.
We hardly got through any more of the lesson. It ended up being little more than a bashing session. Some smiling lasses carefully responded that we have to make righteous judgments everyday. Ugh. There was just so much, dare I say it, hate going around that room. Husband said it sounded like Rameumptom day in Relief Society. "We thank thee, Lord, that we are so much better than everyone else." That's not what religion is supposed to be about.
It's days like this that make it hard to be Mormon. I believe the core doctrines, but I just can't stand the people sometimes. Then again, I don't want to judge Mormons either. I know these ladies, and on the whole they are very nice. What is it about Mormanity that takes devout, well-meaning people and drills such bigotry into them?
Any answers?
The lesson? "Standing in holy places", from an address given by President Monson last October. Sounds like a typical Relief Society lesson. I surmise I could make something decent out of it if I had been asked to teach it. Unfortunately, the well-meaning teacher started out with this question:
How have you seen the world worsen since you were younger?
Oh yes. Well. It started out alright (depravity on TV, increasing sexualization of women and children), but quickly devolved from there.
One woman mentioned the horror that is sex education, especially since abstinence is no longer taught. (False. I guarantee the majority of sex ed classes will at some point say that abstinence is the only sure-fire way to prevent pregnancy and STDs. However, it is clear that teaching abstinence alone does not work with teenagers.) She gloried in the days when parents didn't have to talk to their children about sex at all (because who wants to talk to their innocent children about something so dirty and vile?).
Another told us that her high school now provides daycare services for its students. (I admit it is legitimately sad that this school needs a daycare). She then went on to say that when she was in high school, one girl got pregnant, and she never saw that girl again. She implied this was a good thing (because of course girls who get pregnant in high school ought to be hidden and denied their education [the boys responsible require no such punishment]).
There was mention of women choosing to have children without husbands. According to my Relief Society, such women should know that God does not approve of them being mothers and that a house without a husband is "unstable" (even though it was acknowledged most women who choose this are well educated, high-earners in their thirties. But apparently it's not okay to want a child unless you're married.)
Of course homosexuality and gay marriage were mentioned. (I don't know how I feel about this anymore. My gut says to let everyone live their lives as they will. I certainly regret my involvement in the California brouhaha.)
People on welfare were subtly put down, and one girl explained how sad it was that there are oodles of moms on TV with careers, and how "the stay-at-home-dad is often the funniest character on the show." (This one hits home as I had a working mom and a SAHD growing up.) She ended with a familiar spiel about the unique nurturing capabilities that only women have (deep breaths).
The teacher then read this quotation from President Monson's address: "It is essential that we reject anything that does not conform to our standards, refusing in the process to surrender that which we desire most: eternal life in the kingdom of God." I raised my hand. I said that we must differentiate between "reject" and "judge." I openly admitted that the conversation was making me uncomfortable because I felt like there was a lot of judgment going on. I said that we should stand by what the prophets say (a statement I only partly agree with), but that doesn't mean we should judge people who don't live our way of life. What's going to happen when you meet a homosexual person? Are you going to reject him or her? Jesus told us to love everyone. What did he say to the woman taken in adultery? He told her that he didn't condemn her. Just love people and leave judgment to God.
I should have said more. I should have said that no one is perfect. I should have said that Jesus told those accusing the woman that they, as sinners, have no right to cast stones. I should have said that I bet there are women in the room who have struggled with some of the things that are being bashed. That at least one woman in that room will have a child who is gay or who gets pregnant out of wedlock. That, in my opinion, President Monson meant that we should live our own lives in accordance with our standards, not shun all who do not live their lives in that way. That President Monson's talk was actually about prayer. That being a SAHD or promoting sex ed is not the same as "surrender[ing] . . . eternal life in the kindgom of God." I should have said that such judgmental opinions are the exact things that give Mormons a bad name and drive people away from/out of the church.
We hardly got through any more of the lesson. It ended up being little more than a bashing session. Some smiling lasses carefully responded that we have to make righteous judgments everyday. Ugh. There was just so much, dare I say it, hate going around that room. Husband said it sounded like Rameumptom day in Relief Society. "We thank thee, Lord, that we are so much better than everyone else." That's not what religion is supposed to be about.
It's days like this that make it hard to be Mormon. I believe the core doctrines, but I just can't stand the people sometimes. Then again, I don't want to judge Mormons either. I know these ladies, and on the whole they are very nice. What is it about Mormanity that takes devout, well-meaning people and drills such bigotry into them?
Any answers?
Monday, February 20, 2012
I'm Coming Out
So lately I've been talking more openly about my unorthodox opinions - in church, on Facebook, one on one, and on this blog.
And guess what?
Suddenly, everyone wants to be my friend.
Suddenly, everyone is coming up to me and thanking me for my comments.
Suddenly, everyone is telling me their secrets and problems.
It would appear that more people are on my side than are willing to publicly admit it. And you know what? I'm loving life. Not only are my feelings being validated. Not only am I feeling less like an isolated dissident in a sea of unquestioning drones. I'm making more friends. And, best of all, I feel that my capacity for charity is growing.
People who know me in real life know that charity is my number one gospel focus. This was the case even before embarking upon my faith transition. In my view, charity, or pure love, is the defining characteristic of God. And I'm trying to be like God. I believe that charity is the greatest of all spiritual gifts, and that it is impossible to cultivate it in yourself. Perhaps God is giving me a little more of this ultimate gift as a comfort for all the bad feelings that have been coursing through my veins the last few months. Or perhaps as I throw away my excessive zeal and orthodoxy, I am opening myself up to people I wouldn't have in the past. Perhaps God is giving me this gift as a reward for continuing to stay my judgment.
All I really know is that everyone deserves love and respect, regardless of circumstances, dispositions, or choices. Who am I to judge another when I walk imperfectly?
I realize now that nobody is perfect. I understood that superficially before, but I know it now. Everyone looks so perfect at church, but it's not real. Everyone has skeletons in the closet. Everyone needs help sometimes. In the quiet heart is hidden sorrow that the eye can't see.
When I show kindness to all different sorts of people, I feel happy. I feel humbled. I feel closer to God. I certainly did not expect to come closer to God by taking this unorthodox, potentially heretical route. I did not anticipate that this would be my road to charity. But it appears that this is my lot. And if that's what it takes, that's what it takes.
I'm certainly never going back.
And guess what?
Suddenly, everyone wants to be my friend.
Suddenly, everyone is coming up to me and thanking me for my comments.
Suddenly, everyone is telling me their secrets and problems.
It would appear that more people are on my side than are willing to publicly admit it. And you know what? I'm loving life. Not only are my feelings being validated. Not only am I feeling less like an isolated dissident in a sea of unquestioning drones. I'm making more friends. And, best of all, I feel that my capacity for charity is growing.
People who know me in real life know that charity is my number one gospel focus. This was the case even before embarking upon my faith transition. In my view, charity, or pure love, is the defining characteristic of God. And I'm trying to be like God. I believe that charity is the greatest of all spiritual gifts, and that it is impossible to cultivate it in yourself. Perhaps God is giving me a little more of this ultimate gift as a comfort for all the bad feelings that have been coursing through my veins the last few months. Or perhaps as I throw away my excessive zeal and orthodoxy, I am opening myself up to people I wouldn't have in the past. Perhaps God is giving me this gift as a reward for continuing to stay my judgment.
All I really know is that everyone deserves love and respect, regardless of circumstances, dispositions, or choices. Who am I to judge another when I walk imperfectly?
I realize now that nobody is perfect. I understood that superficially before, but I know it now. Everyone looks so perfect at church, but it's not real. Everyone has skeletons in the closet. Everyone needs help sometimes. In the quiet heart is hidden sorrow that the eye can't see.
When I show kindness to all different sorts of people, I feel happy. I feel humbled. I feel closer to God. I certainly did not expect to come closer to God by taking this unorthodox, potentially heretical route. I did not anticipate that this would be my road to charity. But it appears that this is my lot. And if that's what it takes, that's what it takes.
I'm certainly never going back.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
I'm, as It Turns Out, Not Perfect!
The other day I was visiting my brother-in-law's hardware store. The conversation turned to Brother-in-Law's very large Toyota Tundra. I jokingly said that it might even qualify as a compensation mobile. He simply replied that that's a pretty sexist thing for a self-proclaimed feminist to say.
If anything ever cut me to the quick, that did. After mumbling some embarrassed syllables of admission, I shuffled back to the car with my head hung low and fought back tears all the way home. Of course he was right. If he had intimated that women cursed with undesirably small . . . breasts, say, carry bigger purses so men will still want them, I might have bludgeoned him to death with my extra-large handbag. And yet I have been making the occasional joke about something equally sexist for years. I felt like the ultimate hypocrite. I sometimes get the impression that my (unusually open-minded) extended family thinks I just put on a feminist persona for appearances. This incident is excellent evidence of exactly that. How could a true feminist say something so obviously inappropriate? How could I possibly espouse complete equality if I fight the battle in only one direction? I felt rather depressed and lethargic for the rest of the day.
And several days later, I am still dwelling on my hideous faux pas. Am I just doing the "feminist thing" for show? Do I really want equality, or am I simply using feminism as a reason to feel angry and superior? If it is all a ruse, what do I do now? Start deferring to patriarchal authority again, trash my career plans, return to the temple and blithely agree to be less-than for eternity? Make comments in church about women's superior spirituality and role as gatekeepers of sexuality? Vilify working moms and stay-at-home dads?
The thought sends shivers down my spine. At this point, I realize that I'm not faking it. I actually believe in this stuff. Maybe I just make mistakes sometimes. As one of my psychology professors wisely stated, "gender roles are in the air we breathe." Even the most progressive individuals are going to slip up every now and then, because sexism is inescapable. We feminists are fighting the good fight from within and without. In a way, I am grateful that my brother-in-law opened my eyes to a hidden bit of sexism that I needed to root out (and I'm sure there are more yet to be discovered). I do wish that I could have taken on this traitorous bit privately, without the added element of public shame. Learning the hard way is never fun, but then again aren't we Mormons always talking about difficulties making us stronger?
So even die-hard feminists make the occasional sexist remark sometimes. Please forgive us, for clinging to feminism in a gender-polarized world is no mean feat. And if Brother-in-Law reads this, please accept my apology and realize that this post is, in reality, penance for my transgression. Now back to the battlefield.
If anything ever cut me to the quick, that did. After mumbling some embarrassed syllables of admission, I shuffled back to the car with my head hung low and fought back tears all the way home. Of course he was right. If he had intimated that women cursed with undesirably small . . . breasts, say, carry bigger purses so men will still want them, I might have bludgeoned him to death with my extra-large handbag. And yet I have been making the occasional joke about something equally sexist for years. I felt like the ultimate hypocrite. I sometimes get the impression that my (unusually open-minded) extended family thinks I just put on a feminist persona for appearances. This incident is excellent evidence of exactly that. How could a true feminist say something so obviously inappropriate? How could I possibly espouse complete equality if I fight the battle in only one direction? I felt rather depressed and lethargic for the rest of the day.
And several days later, I am still dwelling on my hideous faux pas. Am I just doing the "feminist thing" for show? Do I really want equality, or am I simply using feminism as a reason to feel angry and superior? If it is all a ruse, what do I do now? Start deferring to patriarchal authority again, trash my career plans, return to the temple and blithely agree to be less-than for eternity? Make comments in church about women's superior spirituality and role as gatekeepers of sexuality? Vilify working moms and stay-at-home dads?
The thought sends shivers down my spine. At this point, I realize that I'm not faking it. I actually believe in this stuff. Maybe I just make mistakes sometimes. As one of my psychology professors wisely stated, "gender roles are in the air we breathe." Even the most progressive individuals are going to slip up every now and then, because sexism is inescapable. We feminists are fighting the good fight from within and without. In a way, I am grateful that my brother-in-law opened my eyes to a hidden bit of sexism that I needed to root out (and I'm sure there are more yet to be discovered). I do wish that I could have taken on this traitorous bit privately, without the added element of public shame. Learning the hard way is never fun, but then again aren't we Mormons always talking about difficulties making us stronger?
So even die-hard feminists make the occasional sexist remark sometimes. Please forgive us, for clinging to feminism in a gender-polarized world is no mean feat. And if Brother-in-Law reads this, please accept my apology and realize that this post is, in reality, penance for my transgression. Now back to the battlefield.
Adventures in Ageism
Apparently it's been five weeks since my last post. Although this is by far my longest period of silence since the inception of this blog, I do not feel guilty. Within that time, I have:
But children are a different story. My astute niece even asked me why I don't like children the other day. I sort of lied and said I just don't have much experience with them. Well, the experience I've gained over the last few weeks has not helped my opinion of the little imps. I just can't understand their thought processes. They can't seem to understand that screaming what you want over and over is not an effective way to solve your problems. They also fail to grasp that their issues are minute. I want to widen their viewpoint, to show them the ease and comfort of their lives. I guess I see it as ungrateful. How can you be so upset about not getting to go to the toy store when you just got about a hundred shiny new toys for Christmas? Their parents are always bending over backward to ensure their health, safety, and happiness, and yet they scream and cry and act like the world is going to end because they have to take a nap (and how dare they turn up their noses at the heavenly luxury of napping?!).
I believe my prejudices are fueled by my belief that I was a perfect child. At least that's how my mother tells the tale. According to her, I rarely cried as an infant, slept all night long, woke up at nine or ten, weaned easily, potty trained easily, etc. Of course, I imagine parenting is much easier when there is only one. My parents never had to listen to squabbles about sharing because I had no one to share with. I never felt the need to act out for attention because I got all the attention I could ever want. I rarely fought against my parents' rules because I felt I was just another adult in the house. And when I did try to manipulate them, they didn't give in and quickly conditioned me to use more appropriate methods. Perhaps my parents should go into more detail with me about my childhood. I have heard a few tales involving vomitage, and remember a tantrum or two. Although my mom admits that the one time I ever yelled at her, she deserved it!
Or perhaps I resent children because I envy them. I wish I had it so easy. I wish I didn't have to control my emotions. I wish I didn't have to work and do hard things and be responsible. I wish I had someone to wait on me hand and foot. And if I did, I'd be thankful, you hooligans! I shall earn the title of crotchety old lady yet!
Look, I know my feelings about children are unfair. I know that their reasoning abilities are limited. I know that when they whine and scream and cry they are simply expressing their confusion and frustration at a complex world with complex rules. I know that their immune systems are still developing, which leads to frequent spewage. But that knowledge does not keep me from getting annoyed (or from hiding in my room for several hours a day to escape them). I guess I lack compassion for children. The true manifestation of my ageism, though, is that I feel no compulsion to remedy this void of charity. I am making no new year's resolutions to fix my skewed perceptions; I do not feel the need to talk to God or my bishop about it. And I have no idea why. At least I'm admitting it, right? That's supposed to be the first step to . . . something, right?
I do not want any parents reading this to feel as though I am attacking them or their parenting abilities. I do not blame parents for having annoying children because, as far as I can tell, they all get to me to some degree. Therefore it is the very nature of children that irks me. Aren't I terrible? I'm sure I'll get some angry parent commenting and saying that children are a blessing from God and I am going to hell. Well, if I'm going to hell, lacking patience for children is the least of my offenses.
Thank you for making it to the end of this very stream-of-consciousness post (which I have written while attempting to tune out the dulcet tones of screaming toddlers). Feel free to verbally crucify me in the comments.
- Written a plethora of excellent papers
- Aced all of my finals
- Gotten straight As in all my classes (booya!)
- Performed in the annual BYU Celebration of Christmas concert
- Experienced my first Thanksgiving and Christmas sans family
- Taken the GRE (did tolerably well)
- Witnessed and participated in the weddings of my dear cousin and brother-in-law
- Traveled to Orange County, San Francisco/San Jose, Virginia, and Washington D.C.
- Visited one of my top choice grad schools (and I'm pretty sure they want me)
- Visited the Smithsonian for the first time (was unimpressed by the Hope Diamond, was baffled that the Star of Bombay was so inconspicuously displayed, and appreciated the human evolution exhibit)
- Endured living with multiple small children for almost two weeks.
- Driving to San Jose with Husband's loveable, crotchety-old-man of an uncle, during which he inadvertently merged onto the wrong freeway and continued on't for several hours while spouting off a fountain of angry, one-sided political "truths", fumbling with new-fangled devices, and grumbling that the world has gone to pot.
- Driving to Washington D.C. with the same loveable yet crotchety uncle, when he voiced some exceedingly racist opinions and refused to see them as racist (because it's not racist if it's true, dammit!).
- Sitting in the splash zone on the way to Muir Woods with my sister-in-law and her two kids. Yes, there was vomit. A lot of vomit.
- Experiencing more vomit with my niece at the airport.
- Witnessing dozens of logic-free childish meltdowns.
But children are a different story. My astute niece even asked me why I don't like children the other day. I sort of lied and said I just don't have much experience with them. Well, the experience I've gained over the last few weeks has not helped my opinion of the little imps. I just can't understand their thought processes. They can't seem to understand that screaming what you want over and over is not an effective way to solve your problems. They also fail to grasp that their issues are minute. I want to widen their viewpoint, to show them the ease and comfort of their lives. I guess I see it as ungrateful. How can you be so upset about not getting to go to the toy store when you just got about a hundred shiny new toys for Christmas? Their parents are always bending over backward to ensure their health, safety, and happiness, and yet they scream and cry and act like the world is going to end because they have to take a nap (and how dare they turn up their noses at the heavenly luxury of napping?!).
I believe my prejudices are fueled by my belief that I was a perfect child. At least that's how my mother tells the tale. According to her, I rarely cried as an infant, slept all night long, woke up at nine or ten, weaned easily, potty trained easily, etc. Of course, I imagine parenting is much easier when there is only one. My parents never had to listen to squabbles about sharing because I had no one to share with. I never felt the need to act out for attention because I got all the attention I could ever want. I rarely fought against my parents' rules because I felt I was just another adult in the house. And when I did try to manipulate them, they didn't give in and quickly conditioned me to use more appropriate methods. Perhaps my parents should go into more detail with me about my childhood. I have heard a few tales involving vomitage, and remember a tantrum or two. Although my mom admits that the one time I ever yelled at her, she deserved it!
Or perhaps I resent children because I envy them. I wish I had it so easy. I wish I didn't have to control my emotions. I wish I didn't have to work and do hard things and be responsible. I wish I had someone to wait on me hand and foot. And if I did, I'd be thankful, you hooligans! I shall earn the title of crotchety old lady yet!
Look, I know my feelings about children are unfair. I know that their reasoning abilities are limited. I know that when they whine and scream and cry they are simply expressing their confusion and frustration at a complex world with complex rules. I know that their immune systems are still developing, which leads to frequent spewage. But that knowledge does not keep me from getting annoyed (or from hiding in my room for several hours a day to escape them). I guess I lack compassion for children. The true manifestation of my ageism, though, is that I feel no compulsion to remedy this void of charity. I am making no new year's resolutions to fix my skewed perceptions; I do not feel the need to talk to God or my bishop about it. And I have no idea why. At least I'm admitting it, right? That's supposed to be the first step to . . . something, right?
I do not want any parents reading this to feel as though I am attacking them or their parenting abilities. I do not blame parents for having annoying children because, as far as I can tell, they all get to me to some degree. Therefore it is the very nature of children that irks me. Aren't I terrible? I'm sure I'll get some angry parent commenting and saying that children are a blessing from God and I am going to hell. Well, if I'm going to hell, lacking patience for children is the least of my offenses.
Thank you for making it to the end of this very stream-of-consciousness post (which I have written while attempting to tune out the dulcet tones of screaming toddlers). Feel free to verbally crucify me in the comments.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
This Post is Rated "R" for Language
And now, dear friends, a lesson in vocabulary. You may be interested to know that the majority of insults aimed only at men actually insult women*. If you ever want to insult a man, simply diss a woman in his life. So, without further ado, a short list of somewhat-alphabetized examples:
Bastard: your mother was unmarried when she gave birth to you. A classic example.
Douchebag: you are that nasty thing that women use to wash their nasty (inferior?) parts. It actually means "you are a particularly annoying man who thinks you're all that, and God's gift to those silly little women creatures, when really you live in your mom's basement and photoshop abs onto your profile picture." I admit, this is one of my favorites. I guess I could justify using it by pointing out that it is meant to insult sexist people . . . right?
Lace-on-your-pants/Panty waist: Ostensibly refers to women's inferior clothing. You have a woman's sexual urges (you're homosexual), so why don't you just dress like a woman? Insulting men with women's clothing? Really? Compare to "wearing the pants in the family." My parents contributed this old-school insult.
Man up: don't be like a woman. Be brave, courageous, strong (women do not possess these qualities). Do the right thing; do what a man would do. Could be interpreted as "don't be like a boy/child." I prefer this definition, but it is sketchy since there is no "woman up" equivalent.
Mother f*cker: you had sexual relations with your mother. Accusing you and your mother of incest (the strongest social taboo worldwide).
Pussy: you are a woman's inferior genitals. Or, you are weak like a woman (so you must have her genitals. Penises confer all things strong and fearless). I absolutely abhor this word.
Pussy-whipped: you let a b*tchy woman control you, when YOU should be controlling HER. Why don't you just stand up to her and show her who's boss?
Son of a b*tch: your mother is a b*tch. Another classic.
Your mama jokes: somewhat self-explanatory. Your mother is [fat]. Your mother is [ugly]. Your mother is [stupid].
You play ball like a girl: Sandlot, anyone? Girls cannot play baseball because of their inferior muscles/spatial abilities/delicate clothing. You play baseball like they do.
C*nt: supposedly the most offensive word in the English language. Similar to "pussy", it refers to a woman's inferior genitalia. Read the interesting evolution of this word here.**
Woman/girl/lady: you are a member of the inferior and subjugated "second sex." You are weak, inconsequential, incompetent. You are meant to be used. You suck at life. You do not act; you are acted upon. Compare to "you're the man!" or "man up", above. These are probably the most hurtful to women because they are so commonplace. How is it okay to use "woman" as an insult? General authorities in the LDS church are constantly saying that women are incredible, that women are God's highest creation. And yet, I bet the vast majority of LDS men (and some women) have indirectly insulted women in this way before. The other day my father told me that men will never stop seeing femininity as a weakness in themselves, as insulting and less-than. I hope to God that is not true. Research shows that androgynous people are happier and better adjusted people. I applaud those men who are in touch with their feminine sides, and are not ashamed.
Which ones have I forgotten?
*Conversely, insults directed solely at women usually have to do with their sexual practices. But that's a post for another day.
**The word "vagina" literally means "a sheath for a sword" in Latin. The anatomical word for the birth canal has nothing to do with giving birth. No, it's just a place to put your two-edged phallic symbol. As such, some modern feminists are trying to reclaim c*nt, as it is more inclusive of the whole of female genitalia, instead of referring only to the bit that pleasures males.
Bastard: your mother was unmarried when she gave birth to you. A classic example.
Douchebag: you are that nasty thing that women use to wash their nasty (inferior?) parts. It actually means "you are a particularly annoying man who thinks you're all that, and God's gift to those silly little women creatures, when really you live in your mom's basement and photoshop abs onto your profile picture." I admit, this is one of my favorites. I guess I could justify using it by pointing out that it is meant to insult sexist people . . . right?
Lace-on-your-pants/Panty waist: Ostensibly refers to women's inferior clothing. You have a woman's sexual urges (you're homosexual), so why don't you just dress like a woman? Insulting men with women's clothing? Really? Compare to "wearing the pants in the family." My parents contributed this old-school insult.
Man up: don't be like a woman. Be brave, courageous, strong (women do not possess these qualities). Do the right thing; do what a man would do. Could be interpreted as "don't be like a boy/child." I prefer this definition, but it is sketchy since there is no "woman up" equivalent.
Mother f*cker: you had sexual relations with your mother. Accusing you and your mother of incest (the strongest social taboo worldwide).
Pussy: you are a woman's inferior genitals. Or, you are weak like a woman (so you must have her genitals. Penises confer all things strong and fearless). I absolutely abhor this word.
Pussy-whipped: you let a b*tchy woman control you, when YOU should be controlling HER. Why don't you just stand up to her and show her who's boss?
Son of a b*tch: your mother is a b*tch. Another classic.
Your mama jokes: somewhat self-explanatory. Your mother is [fat]. Your mother is [ugly]. Your mother is [stupid].
You play ball like a girl: Sandlot, anyone? Girls cannot play baseball because of their inferior muscles/spatial abilities/delicate clothing. You play baseball like they do.
C*nt: supposedly the most offensive word in the English language. Similar to "pussy", it refers to a woman's inferior genitalia. Read the interesting evolution of this word here.**
Woman/girl/lady: you are a member of the inferior and subjugated "second sex." You are weak, inconsequential, incompetent. You are meant to be used. You suck at life. You do not act; you are acted upon. Compare to "you're the man!" or "man up", above. These are probably the most hurtful to women because they are so commonplace. How is it okay to use "woman" as an insult? General authorities in the LDS church are constantly saying that women are incredible, that women are God's highest creation. And yet, I bet the vast majority of LDS men (and some women) have indirectly insulted women in this way before. The other day my father told me that men will never stop seeing femininity as a weakness in themselves, as insulting and less-than. I hope to God that is not true. Research shows that androgynous people are happier and better adjusted people. I applaud those men who are in touch with their feminine sides, and are not ashamed.
Which ones have I forgotten?
*Conversely, insults directed solely at women usually have to do with their sexual practices. But that's a post for another day.
**The word "vagina" literally means "a sheath for a sword" in Latin. The anatomical word for the birth canal has nothing to do with giving birth. No, it's just a place to put your two-edged phallic symbol. As such, some modern feminists are trying to reclaim c*nt, as it is more inclusive of the whole of female genitalia, instead of referring only to the bit that pleasures males.
Friday, October 21, 2011
National Chemistry Week!
Huzzah, it's National Chemistry Week once again! I nearly forgot because (for the first time) I'm not in a chem class during fall semester. For those of you who have yet to partake of the chemical fun, let me explain my joy.
In chemistry, there is a unit of measurement known as the mole. A mole is equal to 6.02 x 10^23 units (also known as Avogadro's number). The units can technically be anything, but chemists use the mole (abbreviated mol) to measure units of atoms, molecules, ions, etc. To celebrate their favorite unit of measurement, chemists come together on Mole Day. Mole Day festivities occur on October 23rd, from 6:02 a.m. to 6:02 p.m. (6:02 10/23, see the pattern?). One day, the American Chemical Society decided that Mole Day was just too much fun to limit to one day a year. As such, they instituted National Chemistry Week, which includes Mole Day. Let me list some of the engaging activities you may enjoy during this glorious season:
1. Mole Day parties. These are typically pot-luck style. Everyone brings food relating to the Mole. Some of the most common treats are baked goods with Avogadro's number piped on, MOLasses cookies (which can be quite humorous), chips, salsa, and guacaMOLE, and anything including Mexican MOLE sauce. Activities include poetry readings and performances of original songs relating to the Mole (I once performed a song like unto the YMCA song, titled M-O-L-E). Wearing geeky T-shirts is encouraged. I highly recommend hosting such a party.
2. Chemistry Magic Shows. These shows embody every child's wildest imagination of what chemistry entails: blowing stuff up, crazy color changes, kooky chemists dancing to disco music in tie-dye lab coats while laughing maniacally. . . oh yeah. Speaking of kids, these are a great way to get kids interested in chemistry/science. And they're usually free! So if you're into imploding cans, elephant toothpaste, loud noises, and fire, these are for you!
3. Liquid Nitrogen Ice Cream. If you have not sampled liquid nitrogen ice cream, you are missing out big time. It's so simple: milk, cream, sugar, vanilla. Combine in a stand mixer with whatever mix-in you desire (my favorite is Oreos). Then, get a dewar of liquid nitrogen and pour over the mixture. Instant ice cream! All of you organic granola people will love it for its lack of preservatives and fillers. The rest of us love it because it's so darn tasty! It is often served outside of the chemistry magic shows, or perhaps at the Mole Day parties. Liquid nitrogen ice cream is probably my favorite part of National Chemistry Week. I waited forty minutes for some yesterday. And it was worth it.
So if you haven't celebrated National Chemistry Week yet, go have yourself some nerdy fun!
How have you celebrated Mole Day/National Chemistry Week?
In chemistry, there is a unit of measurement known as the mole. A mole is equal to 6.02 x 10^23 units (also known as Avogadro's number). The units can technically be anything, but chemists use the mole (abbreviated mol) to measure units of atoms, molecules, ions, etc. To celebrate their favorite unit of measurement, chemists come together on Mole Day. Mole Day festivities occur on October 23rd, from 6:02 a.m. to 6:02 p.m. (6:02 10/23, see the pattern?). One day, the American Chemical Society decided that Mole Day was just too much fun to limit to one day a year. As such, they instituted National Chemistry Week, which includes Mole Day. Let me list some of the engaging activities you may enjoy during this glorious season:
1. Mole Day parties. These are typically pot-luck style. Everyone brings food relating to the Mole. Some of the most common treats are baked goods with Avogadro's number piped on, MOLasses cookies (which can be quite humorous), chips, salsa, and guacaMOLE, and anything including Mexican MOLE sauce. Activities include poetry readings and performances of original songs relating to the Mole (I once performed a song like unto the YMCA song, titled M-O-L-E). Wearing geeky T-shirts is encouraged. I highly recommend hosting such a party.
2. Chemistry Magic Shows. These shows embody every child's wildest imagination of what chemistry entails: blowing stuff up, crazy color changes, kooky chemists dancing to disco music in tie-dye lab coats while laughing maniacally. . . oh yeah. Speaking of kids, these are a great way to get kids interested in chemistry/science. And they're usually free! So if you're into imploding cans, elephant toothpaste, loud noises, and fire, these are for you!
3. Liquid Nitrogen Ice Cream. If you have not sampled liquid nitrogen ice cream, you are missing out big time. It's so simple: milk, cream, sugar, vanilla. Combine in a stand mixer with whatever mix-in you desire (my favorite is Oreos). Then, get a dewar of liquid nitrogen and pour over the mixture. Instant ice cream! All of you organic granola people will love it for its lack of preservatives and fillers. The rest of us love it because it's so darn tasty! It is often served outside of the chemistry magic shows, or perhaps at the Mole Day parties. Liquid nitrogen ice cream is probably my favorite part of National Chemistry Week. I waited forty minutes for some yesterday. And it was worth it.
So if you haven't celebrated National Chemistry Week yet, go have yourself some nerdy fun!
How have you celebrated Mole Day/National Chemistry Week?
Monday, September 26, 2011
A Modest Proposal
I think I'm going to start posting regular gender-related anecdotes from my life. Heaven knows, I have a lot of them now that I'm back in good ol' Provo.
The other day in concert choir, our conductor suddenly insisted that all the men evacuate the rehearsal hall. This is highly unusual; we never get out early. She did not explain why she had decided to do this, or what we women were going to do once the boys were gone. She shooed them out hurriedly and hollered at the few men who lingered. It was clear that she did not want any man to be present for the unannounced proceedings. Once she was sure there was no man within hearing distance, she proceeded to give us The Talk. No, not that talk. She informed us that a few men in concert choir had come to her and complained about the attire of the concert choir women. They had claimed that they felt the need to avert their eyes at times to keep their thoughts clean. Our conductor then laid down the law as to what manner of dress was appropriate and what was inappropriate; let's just say the words "cleavage" and "well endowed" were used frequently. She assured us that she did not believe any of us were dressing immodestly on purpose; we just need to be sure that the clothes we choose will not shift and expose . . . things . . . as we progress through the day. She insisted that the boys need us to dress modestly so they can fully contribute to concert choir. She brought it home with a plea for us to remember that our musical messages can only be conveyed through the Spirit, and that immodest dressing can detract from that because the boys are less focused and less able to feel that Spirit.
At this point I raised my hand. I said I don't like the idea that our motivation for dressing modestly should be to "help the men"; we all have agency, and the thought that I am the guilty party for another person's sins doesn't sit well in my brain. I then gave my reason for dressing modestly: self-respect. Our conductor agreed with me partly, but still stood by her assertion that the men need our cooperation. I left the hall a bit disgruntled, uncomfortable, and hurt. A strong, thoughtful, accomplished woman I admire had just committed a cardinal sin in my book. She had aligned herself (whether consciously or unconsciously) with the phrase "boys will be boys". That men have certain characteristics that cannot be helped. Needless to say, I was rather disappointed.
The memory of this event festered in my mind all week. The more I've thought about it, the more outraged I've become. I'm not so much angry at our conductor, or even at the men who complained. I'm angry at the prevalence of this misguided viewpoint. It is not a woman's responsibility to keep the men around her from thinking bad thoughts. I realized that when men gripe about the terrible women who don't dress modestly, they are admitting that they objectify the female body. They are essentially saying that when certain physical lines are crossed, a woman inevitably becomes a sex object, and they then hold little responsibility for their unclean thoughts. Herein lies the real problem: the human body is hyper-sexualized. I once heard the tale of a particularly horrifying achievement days modesty activity. During this activity, adult leaders actually drew garment lines on pre-pubescent girls. As if to say, "these are the magic lines that, when crossed, automatically turn you (a child) into an object of lust." What does this tell young girls about their worth and purpose? This also debases men, and robs them of their agency.
Living in Germany was enlightening. The human body is viewed quite differently there. They espouse the Freikörperkultur, or Free Body Culture (Husband and I wanted to participate, but sadly never had the opportunity). Nudity is tolerated in many public places. It is so different from America. It is rare to see a clothed child at a waterfront venue, and many adult men and women also walk around in the buff. The best part is that no one cares. The ones who bare it all do not have "ideal" bodies (because the "ideal" does not exist), but they are not embarrassed. No one is viewing them as sex objects. The general consensus is "hey, we all have one". The human body is fantastic and useful in a number of ways, but for some reason, we here in America focus heavily on only one of those numerous capabilities (even in children, which I believe feeds the pedophilia epidemic).
We in the church are not immune to this mindset. When we insist that women dress a certain way so boys don't have inappropriate thoughts, we are treating the symptoms, but not the cause. I view Zion as a place where every person dresses modestly out of self-respect and practicality, so that modesty need not have such concrete lines associated with it. But more so, I see Zion as a place where respect and equality reign supreme; where, even when someone bares their body, it doesn't matter because no one sees that body as a tool to use for their own gratification. I guess we don't live in Zion. Is it impossible to teach ourselves not to objectify ourselves or others? Are we so fallen that there is no hope of escaping the tendency to hyper-sexualize? Can we not put off this aspect of the natural man? I believe that if we teach modesty to both sexes from this point of view, we can begin to combat one of the wiliest tricks of the adversary and better appreciate our full worth as the children of God.
The other day in concert choir, our conductor suddenly insisted that all the men evacuate the rehearsal hall. This is highly unusual; we never get out early. She did not explain why she had decided to do this, or what we women were going to do once the boys were gone. She shooed them out hurriedly and hollered at the few men who lingered. It was clear that she did not want any man to be present for the unannounced proceedings. Once she was sure there was no man within hearing distance, she proceeded to give us The Talk. No, not that talk. She informed us that a few men in concert choir had come to her and complained about the attire of the concert choir women. They had claimed that they felt the need to avert their eyes at times to keep their thoughts clean. Our conductor then laid down the law as to what manner of dress was appropriate and what was inappropriate; let's just say the words "cleavage" and "well endowed" were used frequently. She assured us that she did not believe any of us were dressing immodestly on purpose; we just need to be sure that the clothes we choose will not shift and expose . . . things . . . as we progress through the day. She insisted that the boys need us to dress modestly so they can fully contribute to concert choir. She brought it home with a plea for us to remember that our musical messages can only be conveyed through the Spirit, and that immodest dressing can detract from that because the boys are less focused and less able to feel that Spirit.
At this point I raised my hand. I said I don't like the idea that our motivation for dressing modestly should be to "help the men"; we all have agency, and the thought that I am the guilty party for another person's sins doesn't sit well in my brain. I then gave my reason for dressing modestly: self-respect. Our conductor agreed with me partly, but still stood by her assertion that the men need our cooperation. I left the hall a bit disgruntled, uncomfortable, and hurt. A strong, thoughtful, accomplished woman I admire had just committed a cardinal sin in my book. She had aligned herself (whether consciously or unconsciously) with the phrase "boys will be boys". That men have certain characteristics that cannot be helped. Needless to say, I was rather disappointed.
The memory of this event festered in my mind all week. The more I've thought about it, the more outraged I've become. I'm not so much angry at our conductor, or even at the men who complained. I'm angry at the prevalence of this misguided viewpoint. It is not a woman's responsibility to keep the men around her from thinking bad thoughts. I realized that when men gripe about the terrible women who don't dress modestly, they are admitting that they objectify the female body. They are essentially saying that when certain physical lines are crossed, a woman inevitably becomes a sex object, and they then hold little responsibility for their unclean thoughts. Herein lies the real problem: the human body is hyper-sexualized. I once heard the tale of a particularly horrifying achievement days modesty activity. During this activity, adult leaders actually drew garment lines on pre-pubescent girls. As if to say, "these are the magic lines that, when crossed, automatically turn you (a child) into an object of lust." What does this tell young girls about their worth and purpose? This also debases men, and robs them of their agency.
Living in Germany was enlightening. The human body is viewed quite differently there. They espouse the Freikörperkultur, or Free Body Culture (Husband and I wanted to participate, but sadly never had the opportunity). Nudity is tolerated in many public places. It is so different from America. It is rare to see a clothed child at a waterfront venue, and many adult men and women also walk around in the buff. The best part is that no one cares. The ones who bare it all do not have "ideal" bodies (because the "ideal" does not exist), but they are not embarrassed. No one is viewing them as sex objects. The general consensus is "hey, we all have one". The human body is fantastic and useful in a number of ways, but for some reason, we here in America focus heavily on only one of those numerous capabilities (even in children, which I believe feeds the pedophilia epidemic).
We in the church are not immune to this mindset. When we insist that women dress a certain way so boys don't have inappropriate thoughts, we are treating the symptoms, but not the cause. I view Zion as a place where every person dresses modestly out of self-respect and practicality, so that modesty need not have such concrete lines associated with it. But more so, I see Zion as a place where respect and equality reign supreme; where, even when someone bares their body, it doesn't matter because no one sees that body as a tool to use for their own gratification. I guess we don't live in Zion. Is it impossible to teach ourselves not to objectify ourselves or others? Are we so fallen that there is no hope of escaping the tendency to hyper-sexualize? Can we not put off this aspect of the natural man? I believe that if we teach modesty to both sexes from this point of view, we can begin to combat one of the wiliest tricks of the adversary and better appreciate our full worth as the children of God.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
What About Evolution?
I recently watched a PBS documentary called What About God? for my evolutionary biology class. It addresses how modern-day Evangelical Christian students reconcile the apparent conflict between the origin of man as taught in biology class and in Sunday school. Several students and teachers in STEM fields of study, as well as some ecclesiastical leaders, were interviewed and asked about their viewpoints. The responses were varied. Some concluded that the theory of evolution of species is false; some expressed ambivalence and found it difficult to discuss their tentative ideas with their hard-core creationist friends and family. Still others asserted that there is no conflict at all, or that both evolution and creationism are valid hypotheses that should be taught equally. In the end we, the viewers, were left to make our own conclusions.
Since the original publication of Charles Darwin’s* On the Origin of Species in 1859, the theory of evolution has been ruffling religious feathers. Many fear that evolutionary theory contradicts scriptural accounts of the creation of the world and its inhabitants; they also claim that evolution “takes God out of the equation”. The fundamental question stands: can a person be a Bible-loving Christian and espouse Darwinian evolution? In my mind, the answer is—it depends. It depends on one’s definition of Christianity, and on what kind of Christian one chooses to be. Christianity is by no means a single religion with a single set of beliefs. In fact, very few Christians of the exact same sect agree on every point of doctrine. As such, some Christians may very well be evolutionary biologists, while others consider a belief in evolutionary theory a one-way ticket to hell.
If we assume that to be a Christian, one must interpret every word of the Bible literally, then the answer is no. No, a literal interpretation of the creation story in Genesis is not reconcilable with Darwin’s theory of evolution. One of evolutionary theory’s main points is that change happens gradually over long periods of time. This means that the creation of Adam and Eve would have taken millions of years. If an individual decides to believe that the creation occurred over a period of six Earth days, even that the creation of humans occurred in one twenty-four hour period (as is taught in Genesis), then, to that person, evolutionary theory must be considered absolutely false. However, if there is any room for metaphorical interpretation of the Bible in Christianity, then evolution may be acceptable. One may decide that the term “day” used in the Bible refers to stages of creation, rather than literal twenty-four hour periods. One may even conclude that the Biblical creation story is highly metaphorical, and is simply meant to teach that God is behind all creation. People who align themselves with this view of Christianity can then accept that God may have used evolution as the mechanism of creation, and that the theory of evolution reveals that God is much bigger and better than we could have imagined.
I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I consider myself a Christian, though many others do not because a number of my beliefs (heck, even a few Mormons think I don't belong). I believe that the Bible is the word of God, but is not a scientific document, and does not describe the method of creation. I believe that God has absolute knowledge of natural laws, and that hir** purposes are accomplished through these natural laws. I believe that God is a man and a woman, that God has a body of flesh and bones, that God reveals things to us today. I believe that God is more powerful, wise, and majestic than we can imagine; that all of us, to a degree, try to limit God by defining what God can and cannot do (as one creationist in the documentary ironically exclaimed, “man’s wisdom is foolishness before God”. That logic cuts both ways, my friends). I believe that humans are currently walking the evolutionary path from intelligences, to spirits, to mortal embodied beings, to immortal embodied beings, to gods. And I believe in Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution. Many say my beliefs are not concurrent with the definition of Christianity. If that be the case, then perhaps Christianity is not compatible with evolutionary theory. But in my opinion, I am a Christian (specifically a theistic evolutionist), and evolutionary theory enhances my Christian beliefs. Religious convictions are very personal and are unique to every individual. While several Christians in What About God? determined that the theory of evolution is in direct opposition to all religious beliefs, I side with the documentary’s overall theme: that every individual who calls hirself a Christian must assess hir own unique beliefs arrive at hir own conclusions.
*I'm thinking of naming a first-born son Charles Darwin Herrick in homage to the man who synthesized the unifying principle of biology. Also one of my grandfathers is named Charles. Can you imagine the reaction at that baby blessing?
**Hir=the gender-neutral pronoun. I'm giving it a try. It's growing on me, if only because writing "him or her" is cumbersome and going with "their" is grammatically incorrect.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Horrifying Historical Parallels
I just had a revelation.
As of late, I've been reading a lot about LDS patriarchy in the bloggernacle (here, here and here). The typical line in church is that God ordained men to be patriarchs and preside over the family. "By divine design, fathers are to preside over their families in love and righteousness and are responsible to provide the necessities of life and protection for their families." As I was pondering this stance (and my own personal aversion to it), I realized that it sounds oddly familiar . . .
And then it hit me.
"Divine design" . . . Divine right! Does the common wording that prescribes the "role of men" not hearken of that which poor leaders of the past used to justify their power? I am floored. How did I not see this before? Historically, kings have rationalized their unrighteous dominion and assured their political legitimacy by asserting that God put them in that place of power, so they are obviously the best possible leaders. This doctrine is known as the divine right of kings, which we all know went well for everyone (sarcasm). Men in the LDS church (and others) use the same logic to justify the gender-defined lines of power and inequality. Thus, my new mantra when it comes to the "divine design" of patriarchy shall be:
Divine Right=A Silly Idea
Patriarchy=Divine Right
Patriarchy=A Silly Idea
Therefore, by the mathematical law of transitive relation (if a=b, and b=c, then a=c), it is proved. Amen.
Thoughts?
As of late, I've been reading a lot about LDS patriarchy in the bloggernacle (here, here and here). The typical line in church is that God ordained men to be patriarchs and preside over the family. "By divine design, fathers are to preside over their families in love and righteousness and are responsible to provide the necessities of life and protection for their families." As I was pondering this stance (and my own personal aversion to it), I realized that it sounds oddly familiar . . .
And then it hit me.
"Divine design" . . . Divine right! Does the common wording that prescribes the "role of men" not hearken of that which poor leaders of the past used to justify their power? I am floored. How did I not see this before? Historically, kings have rationalized their unrighteous dominion and assured their political legitimacy by asserting that God put them in that place of power, so they are obviously the best possible leaders. This doctrine is known as the divine right of kings, which we all know went well for everyone (sarcasm). Men in the LDS church (and others) use the same logic to justify the gender-defined lines of power and inequality. Thus, my new mantra when it comes to the "divine design" of patriarchy shall be:
Divine Right=A Silly Idea
Patriarchy=Divine Right
Patriarchy=A Silly Idea
Therefore, by the mathematical law of transitive relation (if a=b, and b=c, then a=c), it is proved. Amen.
Thoughts?
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
The Rs of Repentance
As children and youth in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we are often taught a list of things that must be done in order to accomplish true repentance. They are known as the Rs of Repentance, and there are usually about four to seven of them, depending on the teacher. They include things like recognition, remorse, restitution, reformation, resolution, etc. I rather dislike this method of teaching repentance, and here's why:
1. It makes repentance seem too hard. Think of all the bad things you've ever done. Imagine going through this extensive list for every one of them. Life is just too short! You'd never finish! And what about all the sins you don't remember committing? If the Rs are really the only way to go, we're all damned.
2. It makes repentance seem too easy. Any of us who have undergone real repentance laugh at the thought of repentance as a checklist. "Oh yeah, that was bad, I shouldn't have done that. I feel bad that I did that. I apologize for doing that. I won't do it again. I feel better now. Let's go get smoothies." If repentance were that easy, I sure would have sinned a lot more! Boiling such a deep and meaningful experience as repentance down to a catchy list trivializes it.
3. And what about Jesus? I don't hear anything about the Savior in this list. It paints repentance as something you can accomplish by yourself. For the record, there is no repentance without Christ; without Him we would all be damned. In the end, He is the one who fixes us, who throws out that old woman of sin and makes us a new creature . . . in Christ.
I propose a different, in my opinion better, way to teach repentance.
Confess and forsake. Confessing involves coming to God with a broken heart and a contrite spirit, humbling ourselves, acknowledging that God's ways are higher than our ways. It means asking, begging, pleading for forgiveness, for the mercy and atonement of Jesus Christ to be applied to our faults. Forsaking our sins means having a mighty change of heart, a complete turning away from our sins. Forsaking is having no more desire to do evil, but to do good continually. It is covenanting with God to do better. It is accepting that we are no longer the person who committed the sin, but that we are made anew through Christ's atonement. To me, this part is the most difficult. It is so easy to continue to beat ourselves up about what we did and what losers we are. We have to have enough faith in the atonement to realize that the people who sinned are not the people we are now. We have to accept that we have been forgiven. Then, if we live in a constant state of confessing, forsaking, striving to align our hearts with The Good, we live in a state of justification. The sacrament itself does not cleanse us from our sins; partaking of the sacrament signifies that we are living in a justified state. And eventually, after going through this process over and over, we will become sanctified; we will be made holy.
Now, tell me, which lesson on repentance would you rather have?
1. It makes repentance seem too hard. Think of all the bad things you've ever done. Imagine going through this extensive list for every one of them. Life is just too short! You'd never finish! And what about all the sins you don't remember committing? If the Rs are really the only way to go, we're all damned.
2. It makes repentance seem too easy. Any of us who have undergone real repentance laugh at the thought of repentance as a checklist. "Oh yeah, that was bad, I shouldn't have done that. I feel bad that I did that. I apologize for doing that. I won't do it again. I feel better now. Let's go get smoothies." If repentance were that easy, I sure would have sinned a lot more! Boiling such a deep and meaningful experience as repentance down to a catchy list trivializes it.
3. And what about Jesus? I don't hear anything about the Savior in this list. It paints repentance as something you can accomplish by yourself. For the record, there is no repentance without Christ; without Him we would all be damned. In the end, He is the one who fixes us, who throws out that old woman of sin and makes us a new creature . . . in Christ.
I propose a different, in my opinion better, way to teach repentance.
Confess and forsake. Confessing involves coming to God with a broken heart and a contrite spirit, humbling ourselves, acknowledging that God's ways are higher than our ways. It means asking, begging, pleading for forgiveness, for the mercy and atonement of Jesus Christ to be applied to our faults. Forsaking our sins means having a mighty change of heart, a complete turning away from our sins. Forsaking is having no more desire to do evil, but to do good continually. It is covenanting with God to do better. It is accepting that we are no longer the person who committed the sin, but that we are made anew through Christ's atonement. To me, this part is the most difficult. It is so easy to continue to beat ourselves up about what we did and what losers we are. We have to have enough faith in the atonement to realize that the people who sinned are not the people we are now. We have to accept that we have been forgiven. Then, if we live in a constant state of confessing, forsaking, striving to align our hearts with The Good, we live in a state of justification. The sacrament itself does not cleanse us from our sins; partaking of the sacrament signifies that we are living in a justified state. And eventually, after going through this process over and over, we will become sanctified; we will be made holy.
Now, tell me, which lesson on repentance would you rather have?
Sunday, August 14, 2011
The "Spiritual" Sex
I recently discovered I have a teeth grinding problem. I got a night guard and all that, but that doesn't treat the cause, and I can't wear it all the time. Do you know what would stop me from grinding my teeth down to nothing morning, noon, and night? I believe this bad habit would cease if all the sexism in the world would also cease. So it looks like my straight, white, dazzling smile will be a toothless grin by the time I turn thirty-five.
One sexist "doctrine" that really frosts my cookies is that women are naturally more spiritual than men. Let us have a little chat about benevolent sexism. Benevolent sexism stems from the interdependence of the sexes. It consists of ideas that women need to be cherished and protected by men, that men depend on women to fulfill the "essential" roles of parenting and homemaking, and that men need women (to be romantic sexual objects) to feel complete. It is different from hostile sexism, which branch is more familiar to most people. Benevolent sexism is a hot topic in sex and gender scientific literature right now because, more and more, studies are showing that it is just as harmful as hostile sexism. People who embrace benevolent sexism are more likely to also embrace hostile sexism. Studies have shown that benevolent sexism is a more subtle and cunning way to subjugate women. As men treat women in a benevolently sexist manner, women often begin to accept male dominance. This then propagates the cycle of inequality.
Back to women's "innate" spirituality. This common sentiment in Mormanity (my word for the culture entwined in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) is a form of benevolent sexism. Many members, including general authorities, use this sentiment to justify every instance of differential treatment of the sexes. It is often said that women don't need the priesthood because they're naturally more spiritual, while men need the opportunity to serve and grow. Another common one is that a woman must nurture the children because she innately walks closer to God. Sometimes I wonder if these dogmas are spouted off so frequently as a way to keep women complacent in their places of lesser power in Church authority. The fact is, women are more active in religion the world over. Why the difference, you ask? I have come to the conclusion that, since women have historically been held in inferiority and powerlessness by men, they have become more humble. This, then, has become a societal norm, and the social differences still present today continue the trend. As we all know, humility begets faith in God. Those who have less have greater need to believe in and rely on a higher spiritual power; they hope that this divine being will give them their just reward in time. Therefore, the humbled women throughout history have turned to God for comfort.
Some other benevolently sexist attitudes common in the Church:
To find out how much sexism you espouse, take this quiz.
One sexist "doctrine" that really frosts my cookies is that women are naturally more spiritual than men. Let us have a little chat about benevolent sexism. Benevolent sexism stems from the interdependence of the sexes. It consists of ideas that women need to be cherished and protected by men, that men depend on women to fulfill the "essential" roles of parenting and homemaking, and that men need women (to be romantic sexual objects) to feel complete. It is different from hostile sexism, which branch is more familiar to most people. Benevolent sexism is a hot topic in sex and gender scientific literature right now because, more and more, studies are showing that it is just as harmful as hostile sexism. People who embrace benevolent sexism are more likely to also embrace hostile sexism. Studies have shown that benevolent sexism is a more subtle and cunning way to subjugate women. As men treat women in a benevolently sexist manner, women often begin to accept male dominance. This then propagates the cycle of inequality.
Back to women's "innate" spirituality. This common sentiment in Mormanity (my word for the culture entwined in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints) is a form of benevolent sexism. Many members, including general authorities, use this sentiment to justify every instance of differential treatment of the sexes. It is often said that women don't need the priesthood because they're naturally more spiritual, while men need the opportunity to serve and grow. Another common one is that a woman must nurture the children because she innately walks closer to God. Sometimes I wonder if these dogmas are spouted off so frequently as a way to keep women complacent in their places of lesser power in Church authority. The fact is, women are more active in religion the world over. Why the difference, you ask? I have come to the conclusion that, since women have historically been held in inferiority and powerlessness by men, they have become more humble. This, then, has become a societal norm, and the social differences still present today continue the trend. As we all know, humility begets faith in God. Those who have less have greater need to believe in and rely on a higher spiritual power; they hope that this divine being will give them their just reward in time. Therefore, the humbled women throughout history have turned to God for comfort.
Some other benevolently sexist attitudes common in the Church:
- We don't talk about Heavenly Mother because Heavenly Father is protecting her name from the abuse and slander of the world (if that is the case, then maybe I don't want to be a Heavenly Mother someday. This paints a picture of a rather weak and inconsequential divine feminine, don't you think? By the way, this was initially said by a primary teacher. Also, there is no doctrine that says that the topic of Heavenly Mother is taboo and should not be discussed. In my opinion, we should be a little wary when discussing her in a formal church setting only because there is so little doctrine on her).
- Men have the priesthood and women, instead of the priesthood, have motherhood (as if fatherhood can in no way compare to motherhood. Granted, only women can give birth and nurse. But men can bottle feed, hold, nurture, and show just as much love as women can. Cultural bounds lead us to believe this is not true, but it is).
- Whereas in the priesthood session of conference men get the third degree, women in the relief society session are patted and praised and coddled for how good they are (in my opinion, women are just as intrinsically bad as men are; culture has just taught them to be more subtle about it. Any differences in bad conduct is the product of societal norms and not of innate goodness).
To find out how much sexism you espouse, take this quiz.
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