on Christian feminism

I originally posted this on someone's water lily, but I also wanted to file it here:

Feminism is not about saying, "I don't want to submit." It's about saying, "I take full responsibility for myself as a thinking adult."

Sometimes, oftentimes, it baffles me that the fight for gender equality in the church is still going on. Women are educated, willing to take on leadership roles outside the church, and responsible for themselves. Daniel recently stumbled upon the Baptist Women for Equality blog. I am so happy he found it; it's nice to know women in conservative denominations are taking a stand. It enlightened me to some of the hateful things people are saying. "They've Stolen Jesus! Will you help us find him?" is particularly enraging. In it, John Piper is quoted as saying: "You are just like the homosexual; right desire, wrong gender." I'm not going to get into the church's view on homosexuality in this post, but it hits particularly hard to insult two groups of persecuted people in one sentence by using them against each other.

I know no one who thinks women shouldn't be leaders in the church considers this argument valid, likely because it actually makes sense, but there are a number of things that are considered culturally and historically contextual in the Bible. Examples include polygamy and slavery. Cultural norms change over time. Social relationships grow and develop. Whether you like it or not, you are interpreting the Bible through layers of contexts, conversations, and narratives.

Plus, the New Testament says that under the banner of Christ, societal barriers are disbanded. If all are equal in his eyes, they should be equal in his church's - his body on earth - eyes. Jesus' life, death, and resurrection were transformative. They were meant to bring about positive change. Women have, for centuries, been at the forefront of positive change in the church and elsewhere by sneaking into leadership roles and joining forces. Why are we still arguing about whether women can be leaders when they clearly have the inborn qualities to be movers and shakers, when they clearly already are?

I know more about religious history, comparative religions, and ethics than most pastors who have taught over me. Am I supposed to share it with only other women? Am I not called to share my knowledge with everyone in the church? That's the whole point of a community.

I am a Christian and I am a feminist. Feminism isn't man hating. It isn't anti-femininity. It isn't naive or stubborn or prideful. It is the acknowledgement that I have a voice that should be heard, that I have a brain that should be exercised, that I have responsibilities to call my own, that God made me equal.

Separate but equal is a falsehood. If that were the way God intended it to be, I would have to find a different God.

written on my trip to Chicago

I wrote this in a Catholic cemetery outside Chicago on August 13, 2009 and just discovered it in a journal:

The silenced sleep as
the EL screeches on
its track, carrying the tardy
to Wrigley field.
This cemetery is not a town
it is a cathedral in
purgatory
where the dead grow
old waiting for Heaven -
stained glass enshrines Mary
and her tormented, savior
son. Stone angels bow
at her feet, this queen
of the Catholic deceased
Irish born and Chicago raised.
You strip the dry, northern grass
and hundreds, thousands
a congregation of suited, flowered, good
Catholics crossing
themselves in dirt and darkness
waiting for their promise of infinite light.

tree tops

If I were God, or a giant,
I would, primarily,
brush the palm
of my large right hand
against the bristly brush
of the lizard green
tree tops.

march.

skirt

Fluttering, ballooning, brushing, blooming -
whispering kisses over bare skin
like parched leafy appendages tossed in the wind
or flowering bushes fragrant and looming



I love

shade and light
squinted eyes

kissing.

Two older poems, never before published!

1.

Can I kiss you? You ask.

I’ve been waiting twenty

Years for the question

And four weeks for

Your guts to muster

Some courage

We lean left; less than

5% of the population does

And your lips with

That irresistible freckle

Move, along with two

Sky-colored eyes, toward

My face.

And I wanted it and

I wanted you.

We holds hands like a

Kiss already, restlessly

Intertwining with tickling

Rub of thumbs

I did not quite expect

That softness of

Saliva and skin and

I needed to practice

So we

Tried again

2.

I like breathing in spiced chai

And pondering the photographs

In a national geographic

Published last December

I like sitting next to you on

Andrea’s bed, dorm loveseats, that worn

Leather couch at All Saints,

Diner booths

I like the green of grass splattered

In patchy afternoon sun

That reminds me to

Live, and thrive

I like the delicate softness of your

One-freckled lips as they whisper

Thankfulness and joy in an hour’s

Worth of kisses.

these are my days

(Trying my hand at intentional enjambment)

These are my days

Opening my eyes to yours

Closed. Or to empty space when you’ve

Already gone 

To class, on the bus

Heaving fatigue, checking my phone.

Filing through facts, sifting

Responses, hearing my bright voice

Answer, leaving

Sun glare wind on skin.

Extending my long arm

To the heavy library

Doors, and voicing “hello

How are you” to that man I don’t

Know But speak

With every single day

without fault

Then bluntly and skillfully clacking

Scrap-smudged borrowed keyboards.

Blogging, analyzing, socializing,

Jeapordizing my joy

On a beautiful day,

I sit alone and read

Poetry and leaves

Of grass on the green.

And I leave.

On a bus,

Home to you.

Give me 18.

There may be a few blatant cliches in my poem below. In fact, it reminds me of a Taylor Swift song. However, I have always felt a sort of desperate nostalgia associated with my freshman year of college. Regardless of how many great moments I've had since then, I feel that it will always carry a strange magic.

Give me 18, give me

recklessness and ignorance.

Late nights, bike rides, 

the last summer - 

or the first -

of freedom.

Relationships starting, or

ending

too late. 

Self-assured and unhindered.

New friends, jumping

in fountains and

climbing on roofs.

Breathing deeply, too greedy,

not realizing it'd be gone too soon.

First we live for 21 then

for marriage

and conception.

Why? We push

towards adulthood

then towards middle age.

Full time, no time.

As if the air where

we dwell

is too thin. 

What do we give up to

lead our quiet lives whispering

Entrapment?

Give me 18

Too many friends to hold onto

for long, too many

days awake and

Swimming with bird song, with

A Universe hum.

I was alotted my time

but it's gone.