Tag Archives: lgbtq

Talking Taboo: The Big Announcement!

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I’m seated in the church pew, unsaid words pressing against my clamped teeth. I’m chewing instead of talking for any number of reasons; i’ve had this experience so often i can’t delineate which memory belongs where. It could be a flagrant disregard of the female characters in the lectionary reading by the pastor. It could be a subtle refusal to even consider female pronouns for G-d in Sunday School. It could be when a member of the congregation makes a combo homophobic-sexist comment about a woman in leadership needing to be “straightened” out by a man.

I’m not in an obvious rage. It’s not always a rage – sometimes it is a thoughtful frustration. But the most important thing is that it’s quiet - i am quiet. I might rant, later, to my ordained-minister mother. She’ll remind me that women have come a long way since the days she couldn’t be a pastor by virtue of her gender. I’ll nod, but exclaim: “we’re not done yet!” If i’m being particularly good that week, i’ll pray. Pray for my anger, pray for the reasons i’m angry.

But i don’t start a conversation. My anger turns into silence, and this silence becomes the taboo i never dare to bring up with anyone who i suspect might disagree.

And the thing is, i know i’m not the only Jesus-lovin’ lady out there who feels this suffocation. I can’t speak for all women who encounter such prejudice – i can only speak for myself. And this what i have to say, boiled down to the basics: i have enough faith in Jesus and the Church that we, people of all gender identities, are capable of confronting the everyday sexism in Christian communities. Capable of engaging compassionately and critically in dialogue with one another about faith and feminism. I am capable of voicing my frustration, even when it requires boldness . It is time i stopped staying silent in the pews.

Because when a chorus of individuals share personal narratives, i think a truly transformative space for conversation can be created.

And that, i hope, is exactly what my co-contributors and i have done in a stupendously exciting new book. It’s called  Talking Taboo: American Christian Women Get Frank About Faith, and it’s set to be published in October of 2013 by White Cloud Press!!

Forty women under the prowess of two fabulous co-editors, Erin Lane and Enuma Okoro, have each contributed their own story. An essay that embodies the marginalization they have faced because of a clash between our gender and our faith. In the spectrum of women represented there is an equally wide spectrum of perspectives – some claiming feminist as an identity, and some decidedly not. Women of many denominations, races, backgrounds, long publishing resumés and shiny-eyed newbies (like me!). Women coming  together to instigate a taboo dialogue.

A proper book! With a proper cover and everything!

A proper book! With a proper cover and everything!

But having a Big Conversation like this requires a lot more voices than the 40 contributors, which is why today we are kicking off an Indiegogo campaign to help launch Talking Taboo with a bang. It would mean the world to me if you would make a donation to the campaign. Your support helps generate conversation, and the conversation works to end these silences. As an added bonus, we’ve chosen May 7th because it is the feast day of Saint Rose Venerini, who was a teacher of girls & women.

As the youngest contributor to the anthology, i stand on the precipice of my adulthood filled with explosive hope because of my co-contributors’ courage. Having my own story shared in the company of women who have paved so much of the road before me humbles (and, if i’m frank, terrifies) me. Their courage leaves me cracking with expectation for the kind of boundary-transgressing dialogue this book will generate.

Mostly, though, i want to say thank you.

I said yesterday i have always wanted to be a published author. By the grace of G-d and some wonderful mentors, this book is making that happen. It’s people like you – friends, faithful readers, neighbors, kin, and internet-passerbys that empower me to keep writing in the spaces of silence. You are wonderful, and sharing this news with you wonderful people makes the excitement tremendously tangible.

So let’s go shatter some stained-glass ceilings, shall we?

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For more information about the book: check out the campaign’s website!

Pre-order your copy of Talking Taboo on Amazon!

Like Talking Taboo on Facebook!

A prologue to today’s announcement.

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current jam: ‘i wanna dance with somebody’ whitney houston!

 

Write Like Everything is at Stake: A Response to ‘The Pen is Mightier’ by Sarah Sentilles

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Mahatma Gandhi once said, “Be truthful, gentle, and fearless.”

It’s no secret i have a great intellectual love affair with the writings of the Mahatma. Plastered on the cover of my notebooks are curlicued, hand-scripted quotes from his prolific works, laboriously detailed with ink and marker when preparing my school supplies for the semester. My study and subsequent commitment to a life led in nonviolent practice began with a sophomore English class study of Mahatma Gandhi’s life.

I don’t pretend the man was flawless, but i treasure his words. I treasure these words most when i am writing. Often i stare at the flickering cursor on a half-filled screen, repeating a mantra to myself: be truthful. be gentle. be fearless. Be unbridled by the possibility of failure. Be unafraid of honesty. Be loving. Be kind. Be fearless.

But sometimes, i’m not truthful enough with myself. I fret over participles, furrow my brow over clumsy phrasing – worrying my work will never be satisfactory enough. My stomach churns and i turn instead to making cups of tea or re-organizing the bookshelf. Tangible tasks that enable me to see an end. Clean, unperturbed by the messy process of discernment and requiring little courage. Sometimes the task of writing even a small term paper seems daunting, because i fear my own inadequacy will rob my ideas of their merit.

And yet, writing is an addiction. Writing for me is more than an academic requirement; it is a passion manifested in leather-bound journals tucked in all years of my life, photos infused with words scattered to the four winds of the internet. The torturous stomach clenching and tea-making is a ritual i thrust myself through in unending cycles of crumpled paper and tossed-out ideas, for no simpler reason than writing is what my life depends on. The way to make sense of a half-filled cup emptied by my Earl Grey consumption. The way to cope with the millions of burning words from the authors on my bookshelves. It’s a religion, it’s a way of coping with and being religious. It’s my sacrifice and my offering.

Though i do not know the path my life from hence will take, i am certain writing is central to the journey.

But the fact remains: women writers face an inordinate amount of sexism, bigotry, and misogyny in the publishing world. And women who write within religious spheres face a double-scrutiny of secular and sacred sexism. I recently stumbled across a brilliant piece by Sarah Sentilles on the Harvard Divinity School Bulletin entitled “The Pen is Mightier: Sexist Responses to Women Writing About Religion” (thanks to a tweet by my friend Erin Lane). I highly encourage you all to read the entire piece. In it, Dr. Sentilles articulates her frustration with sexist reviews of her most recent work, Breaking Up With God: A Love Story. She uses this personal example to engage in a critical conversation with the scope of sexism women writers have faced and continue to cope with:

“Unfortunately, this distrust of women’s words and the assumption that women do not know what they are talking about, no matter what their credentials or expertise or experience, are widespread in the literary establishment (though they are often coded as ‘reasoned critiques’). “

This distrust of the validity of women’s words isn’t news to me; i’ve been working to live into my feminist consciousness actively since that same sophomore English class in high school. I work for both the on-campus Speaking, Arguing, and Writing Center as well as for Women’s Voices Worldwide, a nonprofit that empowers women to use their voices most effectively within all spheres of communication, with particular attention to the double-standards women in public speaking face. My focus within my religion major is on gender and sexuality. My copy of Mary Daly’s Beyond God the Father is a highlighter and post-it note war zone.

But more than all of these put together, i have to defend my arguments and theological ideas daily by virtue of my gender. I claim saying “mankind” excludes me based on my sex, and somehow i’m whining or “overthinking it.”If i speak with too much authority, i’m pushy or aggressive. If i’m meek or apologetic in my tone, my opinion is overlooked.

Despite my sometimes crippling self-doubt or imposter syndrome, i refuse to be too afraid to not say anything at all. I will not apologize for speaking my mind. This doesn’t make me perfect, or always right, or better than anyone else. It means i refuse to buy into the idea that i should sit tight and hope for the world to change all on its own. But, as one of my favorite feminist authors Audre Lorde, once wrote in her essay “Uses of the Erotic,” women so empowered are dangerous. The threats against us magnify when we refuse to comply with sexist standards.

Writing and speaking out when we are told we aren’t good enough to is the exact reason we should keep talking. Dr. Sentilles articulates that:

“Those who have written from the margins—feminist and womanist and liberation theologians, black critical theorists, postcolonial theorists—have always recognized the need to write as if their lives depend on it, because their lives often do. Words are world-creating and world-destroying; they can be used to liberate and to enslave.”

To write can be a way to dismantle the master’s house with tools the master never wanted us to have. As quoted by Dr. Sentilles, Mary Daly wrote “[t]he liberation of language is rooted in the liberation of ourselves.” We begin our deconstruction of internalized misogyny in utilizing our voices.

But what about the days when i never get past the tea-making? When the writing sits, untampered and untouched and unpublished, because i feel like it’s senseless or pointless or wrong? I don’t claim everything i write to be publish-able or even good. We all have to slug through the suck sometimes to make a breakthrough.

I’m not convinced, though, that my personal self-doubt is a symptom exclusively of a universal writing process. This very essay is not up for any kind of major publication par to Dr. Sentilles’ works, and yet her articulation about the faceless, sexist trolling of the internet and anger at unjust critiques resonated deeply with me. The writing process may be a freeing space,

“[b]ut what happens when your words are published? What happens when they are released into a sexist world, into a patriarchal culture in which reviewers and anonymous trolls have the power to frame how your writing is received? Writing this essay has been a powerfully liberating experience for me, but it is also terrifying. I was supported as a feminist when I was a student at Harvard Divinity School, but I was also disciplined for being a feminist, and I worry that I will be disciplined for writing this essay. I expect to be called whiny and strident and annoying and grating and hysterical and uninformed. I expect to be told I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

I so identify with everything she says here, from the trolls of the internet (i’ve been told i’m “too hot to be this smart” and i’ve been likened to a Nazi more times than i can count for saying patriarchy exists – because, apparently, calling out sexism as wrong is equivalent to mass genocide) to the simultaneous terror and liberation of writing. It’s almost meta, writing this, because as i do i wonder if the comments section will be filled with chastisement for talking about religion or gender.

In another portion of the article, Dr. Sentilles discusses how death threats have become normalized for women content creators on the internet. This past summer, one of my favorite vloggers, Laci Green, went offline for a few weeks because the police were investigating anonymous death threats that were sent to her accompanied by pictures of her apartment building. Laci, fortunately, is now back with a swing and fearlessly continuing to make her sex positive videos on YouTube. But the fact remains: she should never have been threatened like this in the first place.

Seeing what happened to Laci fills me with dread and hope. Dread that it happened. Hope that she persisted in putting content online despite the threats.

And ultimately, i have to chose to live in that space of hope. If i see only the bullying and violence women face, i miss the whole point of Dr. Sarah Sentilles’ article and Laci’s refusal to give up her online career. Right after Dr. Sentilles articulates her fear that she will be told she doesn’t know what she is talking about, she enumerates:

But I’m also hopeful that this essay will encourage people to engage in a conversation about what to do next, about how to respond concretely to sexism in the literary world—and to the sexism in our syllabi and on our reading lists for general exams, in the language of our liturgies and in the leadership structures of our communities and churches and synagogues and mosques. Because, really, when it comes right down to it, there isn’t much to argue with here. I am simply sharing data, stating facts. Facts that aren’t new. Facts that have been stated and restated for decades, for centuries.

I especially love the facet of conversation in responding to the sexism women writers (and content creators) face. In fact, it was this very prompting for a conversation that made me sit down and write this. I’m be-lieving i have something, as a young feminist and aspiring theologian, to contribute to this conversation. I’m choosing to not buy into imposter syndrome today.

Dr. Sentilles’ whole essay engages in the history of women writers, from Mary Ann Evans (a.k.a George Eliot) to today. Women have been coping with these double-standards in speaking and writing for as long as people have had voices, and the time has come for this conversation to radically grapple with the subtleties of such prejudice. For women who write about religion in particular, this has to occur in places wherein our faiths hinge: sacred spaces. Sacred places of worship, sacred places of conversation.

For, the fact remains: the work of feminism is not done. And, frankly, i don’t think there will be a time in my life when i look around and say “this is it, we’ve reached equilibrium.” But that is all the more reason to continue to try. To continue to write letters to the editors of magazines where reviewers use sexist language or the authorial staff is predominantly cisgendered men. To continue to engage in uncomfortable dialogue. And this means incorporating male-identified allies. It means educating ourselves and others in this transformative process. It means being in sisterhood with one another, in engaging critically with women writers and supporting one another as creative be-ings in a complicated world.

I think, for me, it means taking to heart the words scrawled on my Intro to Islam binder: “Be truthful, gentle, and fearless.”

Be truthful: expose the sexism, especially where it hurts. Be gentle: love yourself, even on the days when the critics are going for the jugular or the words just won’t come. Be fearless: write like everything is at stake, fierce in conviction.

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best thing: work & the internship.

current jam: ‘shake it out’ florence + the machine

Why “Feminist” Theologies?

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My coursework this semester has thus far been (a) curl-in-a-ball-of-anxiety overwhelmingly large in its stack of readings and paper-writings and (b) simultaneously the most exhilarating ride i’ve yet had academically at school. Considering how madly in love i am with Mount Holyoke – and that a certain religion class second semester my first year is what prompted many of my early blog posts – this is of weighted significance to me. There is never a way to do all of the reading expected of me (and never has been) unless i were to sacrifice all mealtimes and sleep, but discerning what is of the utmost priority has been excruciatingly difficult. I just really, really love it all. I truly feel the coursework i am doing now will directly apply to my thesis next year and, transitively, to the work i aspire to accomplish in the acquisition of a Ph.D. So this struggle to read it all out of unbridled love is a marvelous gift of a dilemma.

But something is still nagging at me.

Easily one of my favorite classes is a seminar entitled “Feminist Theologies,” taught by one of my most most most favorite professors to have ever graced academia. (For liturginerd friends, we just finished Texts of Terror by Phyllis Trible and are well on our way into Audre Lorde!). Presently, i am making my way through one of my favorite theological texts: Beyond God the Father by Mary Daly. To say i think Daly is one of the most critical, important, brilliant, and linguistically creative theologians of the twentieth century is a mild understatement. Though i have plenty of contentions with her work (as, i think, she would approve of considering the whole idea of a feminist space is one of lively discourse) i think her presence in the women’s movement and in the Church is fundamentally revolutionary.

And nothing speaks to me more of her relevance, even today, than this selection from “Chapter One: After the Death of God the Father,” first penned in 1973:

“The unfolding of God, then, is an event in which women participate as we participate in our own revolution. The process involves the creation of a new space, in which women are free to become who we are [ ... ] The new space is always located ‘on the boundary.’ Its center is on the boundary of patriarchal institutions, such as churches, universities, national and international politics, families. Its center is the lives of women, whose experience of becoming changes the very meaning of center for us by putting it on the boundary of all that has been considered central. In many universities and seminaries, for example, the phenomenon of women’s studies is becoming widespread, and for many women involved this is the very heart of thought and action [ ...] By contrast, many male administrators and faculty view ‘women’s studies’ as peripheral, even trivial …” (Mary Daly, Beyond God the Father, Beacon Press, Boston, 41). 

To me, this begs a question that is tugging at my heart: why does Mary Daly have to be qualified as a “feminist” theologian? Certainly more close to my heart, why is that i always feel i have to qualify that i want to study feminist theology in graduate school? I know that qualification is one i am in control of professing, but it feels necessary that i denote my interest is in the study of egalitarianism and struggles for subverting oppression within the canon of theology. And, at least for now, i think the best label is “feminist” theology.

But i can’t help but feel this is, in some way, buying into this marginalization Daly is critiquing. Sure, she’s writing about the academy within a framework of religious patriarchal oppression, but social structures exist because we all play a part within them.

And i truly feel that Mary Daly is a landmark theologian for her critiques of patriarchy, misogyny, and the marginalization of women in the Christian faith. These criticisms are no less revolutionary than Luther with his 95 theses articulating his frustrations with malpractices in the Catholic church of the sixteenth century. The parallel that both Daly and Luther were practicing Catholics is not one that i think ought to be lost on us, either.

And yet, Mary Daly is studied in a context of gender and religion, rather than the scope of all theological history because, apparently, her words only matter if you’re into that sort of thing. The fact of the matter is, though, that gender and sexuality are an inextricable part of our lives. Gender informs the way we interact with other humans, larger social institutions, and thus our faith (or lack thereof) in whatever tradition practiced/not practiced.

Isn’t this qualifier of “feminist” theologian boxing her in within the religious study of theology the precise way she is critiquing the academy for pushing the study of gender to the boundary?

To be fair, i’ve not taken theological courses at a Divinity School. I’ve not done a comprehensive study of all theological courses across the country or world. So maybe i’m railing against a system that is undergoing important and necessary change.

But even if i am utterly mistaken and, in fact, we’re all secretly reading our womanist and feminist and gender study readers by flashlight late into the theological evenings, that doesn’t change the point Daly is making. And that was forty years ago.

So is the feminist qualifier necessary? Does it mark the boundary of people of all gender identities fighting for an egalitarian space within the framework of larger social institutions? Or does it continue to marginalize such ideals to the boundary of mainstream discourse? Can feminism even be used inclusively, when Daly herself was intensely critiqued by her contemporary, Audre Lorde, for her lack of accounting for the experience of women of color?

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current jam: “apertura” gustavo santaolalla

best thing: celebrations.

Love is Stronger than Hate.

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Today i went to a protest calling for the repeal of Amendment One in Raleigh, the capitol of North Carolina. Though we were a small crowd, we were a mighty one – and we were enough to require a police escort. Whether they were more there to protect us or watch us, i was unsure, but either way i was glad of their presence. I re-used my sign from election day as i left from work directly to pick up my friend and drive to Raleigh, so it was a little out of place (but the message remained, so i didn’t care too much).

We walked all through the center of Raleigh, chanting things like “love is greater than hate, separation of church and state!” We got some exuberant, gleeful honks from people driving which was so satisfying. There were some nasty looks, but i didn’t care. We were peaceful, if not a little loud, and i felt so sure of what we were doing that the nasty looks didn’t matter.

It was wonderful to be a part of a movement for equality and, while i don’t think we necessarily changed anyone’s minds i still feel what we were doing was important in its own small way. In the midst of a state that legalized such prejudice, we few took a public stand saying we disagreed. And that was enough.

Friends don’t lend friends remain silent in the face of inequality.

If you’re interested, News 14 Carolina covered the event, including a close-up on Faith’s poster (and if you look closely you can see us marching!).

Hate with Hate Won’t Work: Marriage Equality and Where We Go From Here.

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I’m the first to admit i was infuriated and despondent in the wake of the (albeit expected) news of Amendment One’s passing. It was crushing because, more than anything else, i knew we hardly stood a chance in defeating it – but i had genuinely hoped that we could overcome the odds. I knew my despair was shared among many: my new feed was cluttered with colorful language and statements of disappointment over its passing, for which, i won’t lie, i took some real comfort in. But there was also a lot of hateful slanders from these very people against those who had voted for the amendment, which was far from soothing. Rather, images that compared the counties who voted for the amendment and counties with the highest concentration of college graduated with snide captions over the lack of formal education breeding stupidity left a sour smell in my nose.

For even in the midst of this hurt we all shared, an oft-quoted line from  Dr. King’s speeches and published works came to mind: “Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.” 

In responding to those who voted for the amendment with spiteful comments about the low percentage of people with college degrees who populate their counties, or snarky remarks concerning their personhood, we are fighting hatred with hatred. Do i think they should have voted otherwise? Of course i do. Does this make me entitled to sneer and be as equally cruel towards them as they are to me? Absolutely not. Such an argument makes me no better than they are. It may be the easy choice – to go for the low blow, take the hard-hitting swing, but such a smack speaks more of my unchecked privilege than it declares my allegiance to fighting for justice.

Besides, the comment most especially concerning college education is inherently incredibly classist, and it shows the nastiest side to liberal intellectualism. It’s the we’re-better-than-you-because-we’re-enlightened argument which (hello!) is the same premise under which the anti-marriage-equality campaign is founded. Both arguments are praising an institution (the church vs. higher education) and both drive a divisive line between “us” and the ungodly “them.”

Which is why i was not comforted, vastly, by these statements. In the moment it may have been satisfying, but that’s the thing about the path of nonviolence: it is a way of life for courageous people, ergo it is not easy. I’m not trying to say everyone should believe in nonviolence or think like me (because who am i to tell you what to think?) but i do think if we’re going into this fight for the long haul, we ought to look to our forbearers and glean what wisdom we can from their victories. The last time North Carolina amended its Constitution it was to ban interracial marriage. I think, then, the ancestors we must turn to are not from the distant past, but from the immediately preceding history wherein people of all colors stood together to fight institutionalized racism. I personally thus find Dr. King’s words to be all the more relevant.

Yesterday, though, the country took a turn when President Obama publicly announced he was for marriage equality. To be totally honest, my initial reaction was: “About damn time, Mr. President!” But the importance of what he was doing still resonated deeply with me. The timing of it, coming so close after the loss in NC, was clearly artfully planned – but also an enormous risk. North Carolina is a swing state in national elections; we may have voted Democrat for the first time in sixty years in 2008, but that’s no guarantee we’ll do so again. In lieu of the tremendously powerful conservative vote displayed in Tuesday’s gubernational election, i think what President Obama did was a bold, and thus all the more commendable, action.

But he’s not the only one working for this. The most powerful response to Amendment One’s passing that i have yet seen came from an Episcopal bishop,* Bishop Curry of North Carolina. His words are pointed at all sides of the fray; he takes a religiously-founded stance for marriage equality but also holds his comrades in this accountable in decrying those who have said hateful things to the people who voted for the amendment. Whether or not you’re a person of faith (and not that my opinion on your autonomous decision matters but, for the record, i still love and value you and your rights even if you are not a person of faith) i highly encourage you to watch his response.

Most of all, however, i know i need to remember the humanity present in all of us. This isn’t a one-time, lizzie-writes-a-blog-post-and-is-now-a-saint thing. Rather, i know for myself i must choose to recognize this humanity in all of us every day – and most of all on days when this fight is exhausting and hurtful and i am at my most vulnerable. But in the words taken from the essay “Gandhi and the One-Eyed Giant,”by freedom fighter Thomas Merton: “love triumphs, at least in this life, not by eliminating evil once and for all but resisting and overcoming it every day.”

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further things of interest: a petition to repeal amendment one; also, a counter-voice critiquing the slippery language of president obama’s marriage equality statement.

current jam: “tomorrow will be kinder” the secret sisters, from my playlist in response to the amendment’s passing.

*For friends who may or may not know: the Episcopal church has been at the forefront of the religious fight to ordain people of queer identities (you can be gay and/or female and still be a priest in the Episcopal church).

North Carolina, You Failed Us Today.

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So the lousy, bigoted, harmful amendment passed.

But don’t worry, Carolina. We’re going to cry into our bowls of Ben & Jerry’s marriage equality ice cream, mourn the loss of a step towards equality, and properly sob over your royal screw-up today.

And then we’re going to come back swinging.

My history teacher in high school used to sing this song every time we talked about an oppressed group of peoples rising up and overthrowing those in power in the name of justice. As cheesy and pandering as it may seem, it feels like the only song that’s appropriate right now.

So, go ahead Twisted Sister. Let’s fight institutionalized prejudice together and look fabulous whilst doing so:

(also, if you want more music to angrily drink your merlot to, i made a whole playlist here. it could use your input. okay. back to the ice cream).

Reflections on May 8th: Halfway Through.

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I am not, by definition, a morning person; in fact, i find it something of a drudgery.

However.When my alarm blared on at 7 am this morning, i awoke with an uncharacteristic jolt of kinetic energy. It was one of those rare mornings that i awoke simultaneously feeling as though i had not slept at all – that the buzz and whir of preparing for the day ahead were a continuum in which i ran – and yet i felt deeply refreshed and ready to face the morning, coffee or not. The reason for my awakened state was that, as you no doubt have already gathered, today, Tuesday, May 8th, meant the North Carolina primary was coming to a close. Amendment One’s status still stands in limbo.

Though i knew i’d probably be tabling/campaigning against Amendment One alone as the rest of my family had school and work to tend to, i wanted to vote with my mom. My first time voting was a pretty big deal to me, and i like to share accomplishments with the people whom i love. This, paired with a desire to talk with as many people as possible, encouraged the early wake up call.

I dressed listening to recording of Dr. Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.’s speeches mixed into a playlist of the 2010 FIFA World Cup album, allowing the thrum of Dr. King’s words and the jubilant choruses of the songs to fill me. Everything about my outfit was intentional – my shirt, a gift from a friend at school, was from the Protect ALL NC Families coalition and a bright blue with white ink. I wanted to wear a red headband and belt so as to have all the American flag colors – something i don’t even do for Independence Day, but i found all the more important when dissenting with the popular legislative opinion. It may seem silly to dwell on such details, but the intention was so purposeful i wanted to share. Besides, i think it was former NYC Mayor John Lindsay who once wrote “dissent is the highest form of patriotism” (though this is oft attributed loosely to Thomas Jefferson). I thus felt more patriotic today than i have ever felt before.

After breakfast, mom and i headed to the polling station wherein she announced to all in the vicinity it was my first time voting. My cheeks thus matched my headband, but it was with delight i checked in and took up my ballot. Needless to say, the first circle i filled in was “Against.” Sticking that ballot into the counting machine as voter number 220 was incredibly satisfying; getting my sticker made it all the better.

(i’ve been waiting for one of these since i first saw my dad wearing one whilst i was still in elementary school!)

with the long-coveted sticker! thanks for taking the photo, ma!

After voting, mom had to go, and so i joined the sole campaigner outside with a sign i’d spent the night before creating (see below). She was terribly nice to let me sit with her, and for her company i was most grateful. We conversed about the implications of the amendment for several hours, she handing out flyers to ingoing voters and i smiling and waving to the people whom i did and did not know. Being Chapel Hill, there were an overwhelming number of people who applauded us for sitting outside the polling place, with commending comments and thanks for tabling. Between the pair of us we got more thumbs up than i can recall. We thanked each person for voting.

It did, however, take a considerable number of people a moment or two to figure out what my sign meant; i could clearly see the squinting and apprehensive looks at the word “Jesus” before they reached the ending phrase “Vote Against.” Some scoffed. I got a few nasty, nasty looks and pursed lips – even from people whom i know. A few, though not may, refused to even make eye contact. But most people broke into smiles, nodding approvingly. One woman even stepped out of her car to thank me for “speaking of the Love of God.” Hearing this, paired with the sobriety and gravitas with which she said it, was pretty powerful for me. I don’t even know her name.

I had selected my words very carefully for my sign, because i knew as a student of Religion and an unyielding believer in human rights that i wanted to make a statement that fundamentally challenged the notion prevalent in this country that marriage, as ordained by law, was subject to church authority. Deeper still, i wanted to subvert the idea that Jesus of Nazareth hated anyone, and that all people of faith (regardless of who or what this faith might be in) are not homophobic and hateful. I know i am not alone in thinking this, as the Protect ALL Families coalition has actively engaged the faith community across the state. More than anything else, though, when the people campaigning for Amendment One showed up waving their banner saying God only loves people who are in heterosexual marriages, i wanted to stand in sharp, pointed contrast.

I didn’t know if any pro-Amendment One folks would be there with signs, but when they arrived and rolled out their cardboard poster i was glad (if not a little scared) to be a counter-voice. I don’t claim to be the voice, or to articulate any opinion other than my own. But i am a voting voice, and a voice of a person of faith, and most poignant today i am a voting voice who believes no single institution or person has the right to infringe upon someone else’s liberty, particularly when such opinions stem from a place of fear.

Around noon, though, i realized i’d left my water bottle at home (rookie protestor mistake) and, in the knowledge i’d be more useful hydrated than in a hospital suffering from heat stroke, i bid my new friend adieu and headed home where i now sit, writing to all of you. At present, it is almost 2 PM and i’m contemplating where to go in town next after the rain lets up a little (i’m thinking downtown). Again, if you have not already voted Polling Places don’t close until 7:30 PM so please do not leave this one up to your peers to decided. The odds are not in our favor, but we can do this. If you need more information on how to find your Precinct, you can go here.

Injustice Anywhere is a Threat to Justice Everywhere.

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Dr. King once spoke these words – and though they first manifested themselves in his life some fifty years ago, their importance has not wavered. We are not in a “post-racial” era, we are not on the final frontier of combatting prejudice, and we are certainly not done with the work given to us as decent, loving, kind human beings. But such work should not deter us for, as Dorothy Day (another incredible freedom fighter) once uttered, “No one has the right to sit down and feel hopeless. There is too much work to do.”

The work today is fighting Amendment One. The North Carolina legislature has put forth an amendment to the state constitution that will have devastating consequences for human beings across the state if it is allowed to pass. Same-sex couples, children of unwed couples, widows, and victims of domestic violence are the most prominent among the lists of people whose rights will be the most encroached upon. But such injustice does not merely threaten the “others” of our world – it directly confronts us with a reality of hatred so terrible it taints our very nature as human beings. Whether you see it as a sacred duty or an inalienable right or something in between, we cannot let Amendment One pass.

If you are of legal voting age and a resident of the state of North Carolina, please go vote today (May 8th). The polls are not in our favor, but odds are only numbers. We are more than simple numbers in the fullness of our identities – and should we choose to enact this potential, we shall overcome these mountains of bigotry and fear. Let’s show this country that we are not stupid, homophobic, and afraid of that which is perceived as different. Let’s show them that a state entrenched in a history of slavery, and a region known for its conservatism, can learn and grow from change. Let’s show them that an amendment founded in religiously-charged prejudice can be combatted with the kind of Love such religions are meant to teach.

“A ‘no’ uttered from the deepest conviction is better than a ‘yes’ merely uttered to please, or worse, avoid trouble.” Mahatma Gandhi

(Photo taken from the Vote Against Amendment One Page; additionally, some thoughts in video format from when this amendment was first proposed if you’re interested)

The Abominable Rick Perry and his Campaign for Hatred.

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I know i’m not the first to say it, but:

WHO THE HELL DOES RICK PERRY THINK HE IS?

Seriously; the new add, “Strong” is more than the usual spew of slanderous, disgusting bigotry rooted in some kind of money-lust. It is downright hatred, presented to you under the guise of someone fighting to “restore the roots of faith” (or whatever) in the United States. Rick Perry is excusing his fear, bitterness, and animosity towards millions of people by claiming it as a quest to “restore rights” to children “unable” to speak about Christmas in schools. He is doing what, to me, is the ultimate betrayal: he is utilizing a faith tradition rooted in Love for All Peoples to mask a vile agenda of utter and undeniable hatred.

I’m done trying to be moderate, trying to say that I think every voice is one meant to be heard in a democratic system. If you want to think someone is an abominations because they’re queer by choice or biology, fine. That’s your political right, and i don’t contest your right to say it. Really. Keep on spewing, that’s what democracy means. You’re just wrong.  I’m tired of tiptoeing around this: all people are, according to the real Christianity (not the one preached by idiots like Perry) are made in God’s image.

I don’t claim to be an expert on any religion (though it is, admittedly, one of my majors) nor do i claim to be able to speak for all people in the Christian faith. I generally try to stay away from professing what i believe on the internet (meaning: i’m not saying i am or am not a Christian (but i will say that i have profound respect for the Body and for the Bible)) mostly because i think religious discourse online tends to be, well, abysmal.

But this is just too far for me. Rick Perry not only is saying that people who identify on the spectrum of sexuality should not even be considered human beings (which is EXACTLY what some white men and women used to say, oh, fifty years ago about people of color (and some still today, unfortunately)), he is completely disregarding the pluralism that exists within the Christian tradition.

I know hundreds of people personally who follow the faith of Jesus Christ who are gay, lesbian, queer, transgendered, pansexual, and allies. And those are just the people i have met and encountered on a one-to-one level. In fact, i would be so bold as to say MOST Christians in the USA today are at least passively allies. It’s a minority of extremists like Perry who not only paint a bad portrait for such engaged people of faith, but also are the biggest threat to the tradition he claims to be so damn important. To say that he is both a Christian and profoundly homophobic in a manner that suggests he speaks for all people in the Christian tradition is like saying Muslim terrorists speak for the millions of peaceful practitioners of Islam. It’s just a fallacy.

This is ridiculous. No, rephrase: it is more than ridiculous. It is hurtful, painful, and so WRONG that Perry can say such wretched things about People with as much humanity as he and be a legitimate candidate for the US Presidency. He is even so bold to say that People – meaning openly gay members of the US Military – who are laying down their lives for this country do not have the right to (a) be who they authentically are with their comrades, (b) are wrong for being who they are, and (c) are the single greatest problem in a nation with an ever-rising poverty line next to institutionalized racism and sexism.

And it’s not just Perry – he is merely a figurehead for a movement grounded, ultimately, in fear of the unknown and the un-understanding. He is not alone in professing this cruel belief. What gives? Why have we, as a generation and as a nation, learned NOTHING from our history of violence and prejudice towards people different from a White Anglo-Saxon Protestant streamline assimilation theory?

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for my thoughts on gay rights, click here for a video.

for a brilliant response to the rick perry shitwad, click here to see stephen colbert’s response (it’s literally genius)

Death to Patriarchy! (Concluding Thoughts on Men, Women, and Single-Sex Education)

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This, friends, is my concluding post in the series on why i chose a women’s college. It has been a most illuminating ride, and i have very much enjoyed hearing your insights – be they uplifting or critical, you keep me growing. Thank you. 

In this blog series i have mentioned the fact that i have male friends, professors, and live in a valley of five universities (three of which are co-ed). By this, i’d like to commence this argument by declaring that i do not think that men are subordinate, terrible, sex-driven maniacs. I also do not think men are the only perpetrators of sexism. They are some of my best friends and greatest educators.

However, in my first post in the series, i spoke about the relevance of women’s-only education. Essentially, women’s colleges like Mount Holyoke are still important, critical, and have endured because they exist as spaces with the express purpose of combatting sexism in its many manifestations. I stand by this resolution.

I also mentioned that women’s colleges are not necessarily only for women; there are a number of gender-queer folk attending the college full time, and more pertinent to what i wish to address today, men from Amherst, UMass Amherst, and Hampshire are welcome to take classes at Mount Holyoke should they so desire. Therefore, i have had a number of seminars and lectures with male students present.

In one particular class, the semester commenced with approximately 50 students, 2 of whom were men from neighboring schools. Unfazed, i wasn’t worried or in fear that they, by nature of being men and being in my class, wold ruin my academic experience or hinder my education in any way. What was curious, however, was the amount they spoke in class discussion. For, in the first two weeks of the semester, perhaps from intimidation or lack of comfort level, only about five of us 50 piped up in conversation.

I’m sure you’re not surprised i was one of those five (being a tad overly-outspoken). But what was interesting to me, most especially, that the two aforementioned gentlemen also were in the top-five-most-commenting few of the lecture.

And before you angrily spell out that, by nature of being a man-hating feminist, i automatically noticed a slant in the conversation, let me make a disclaimer: i have been in several classes with men, and in some cases the one or two guys were either too intimidated or uninterested or shy (or [insert totally valid reason here]) to ever speak up. Understandably so – i was petrified to speak in class the first two weeks of college because i was utterly overwhelmed by the brilliance of my fellow women. And i don’t think that because these two were men that they should not, can not, or do not deserve to ask clarifying questions, contest the professor’s statement, or otherwise enhance the conversation. Quite the contrary, in fact.

I just believe that when ten percent of the class are the only ones talking, that ten percent should represent the demographic of the class. As the men only comprised 4% of the class gender breakdown, i don’t think that their comments should comprise 40% of the conversation.

And i get it: just because i’m a teacher-pet-loudmouth doesn’t mean everyone should be. Some people prefer to listen, to add occasional comments, or to get acquainted with the teaching style of the professor before jabbering away. These are totally valid things. But this trend of men speaking out, and women being afraid to say what’s on their mind, is more than one class at one school.

In conversations with my fellow Mount Holyoke women i am often unsurprised to find many of them never spoke out – or more importantly, were never heard – in co-ed classrooms, be they in high school or previous colleges. Some say the guys were too boisterous and loud for their comments to be heard. A friend told me, “I have plenty of opinions, I just wasn’t loud enough to talk over the boys in high school…[At Mount Holyoke] I know when I raise my hand to make a comment, no one is going to speak over me. I’m not the kind of person who yells my opinion across the room.” Still others have divulged that they were too self-conscious to say what they were thinking in class for fear of looking unfeminine, too smart, too dumb, or otherwise ridiculous when in co-ed situations. Some of these women have said so much in class conversations at MHC – and many of them now speak freely and openly in seminar discussions. Mount Holyoke, as a safe and empowering space for the thoughts of every one of its students, has given attention and time to these invaluable voices.

Truly, I am not making the claim that all the women here were docile, letting guys dominate the conversation (be it because they were loud or the ladies self-conscious). I’m sure you are, once more, shocked to learn i’ve never been the quiet type in terms of class chats. And, as another friend declared, “at some point, you just have to yell.”

At some point, you just have to yell. To stomp and holler, to turn and say “No, i’m not just pointing out that the textbook is slanted because i’m a girl, i’m saying it is a male perspective on the founding fathers because it was written by a male historian focusing exclusively on the men who were formative in creating America.” Mount Holyoke doesn’t let us be ladylike and demure – it is a time for all of us, the outspoken, the shy, the observers, the ENFJs and the ISTPs to equally learn how best to utilize their voices. Because sexism still is a real issue – one need only watch two minutes of any television show, commercial, or news broadcast to see this. It is not always overt  (though sometimes it certainly can be!)- it can be in the tilt of a camera angle, the choice of words for a female character, the stylized fonts and colors for male vs. female products that fill the same function (think: deodorant, razors, shampoo…). Sexism can be encountered when a women seeks to purchase a car, or when a man is shopping for diapers or cooking ware.

In my 50-person class, one man has since dropped out, and the other attends somewhat infrequently. Since they left, and with the semester having thoroughly settled in, i find many more women speaking out, debating, and participating in classroom dialogue. This conversation is far more representative of the class, as there are (a) more than ten percent of the people speaking, and (b) the percentage of the people speaking isn’t 40% dominated by a demographic group comprising only 2% of the class.

I’m not attributing this pattern explicitly to the male presence – but i do believe there is a similar pattern in society worthy of our close examination.

And me saying this does not make me a man-hating, bra-burning freak. It makes me a smart, and aware, feminist. Which, by the way, i think men can be feminists too* – and, in line with the arguments of Jackson Katz, a safe space to deconstruct false notions of masculinity is crucial to the movement to gender equality. But in this very vein i believe is the exact reason why those two men speaking out – while most of the women stayed silent – is a validation proffered up by society in desperate need of demolition. Men and women deserve equal voices. Society, at present, does not support this notion. In wage inequality, media representations, textbooks, in lessons taught to little girls and boys by films and books and television and their parents – there exists a horrific sexism.

And i am a product of this: of course i am sexist. I was born into a sexist society – it is everywhere i look, in everything i read.

But in my choosing to go to a place like Mount Holyoke –  place built to eradicate this detrimental notion, i am working day by day to remove the sexism within me by recognizing it. And dealing with it. And trying to live my life in a way that, chip by chip, block by block, will tear those barriers down.

I absolutely cannot do this alone – i stand on the shoulders of billions of women who came before me paving the way. I am a blip in the fight, a small moment in a massive struggle i think will go on long after my time is done. But, with my Mount Holyoke Education (which transcends the diploma) in tow, i hope to make that blip a good one.

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current jam: ‘haven’t met you yet’ michael bublé

best thing in my life right now: peanut butter oatmeal homemade cookies!

*this is another blog post that, should you be interested, i’ve been thinking about expounding upon. in the meantime, i encourage you all to check out the good men project, an online anti-sexist blog magazine that is a fantastic resource for information, conversation, and general anti-sexist stuff!