First Fig

What my daughter learned in church today

2011-02-27T14:27:00.004-07:00

What's wrong with this picture?

Here's a hint...

A Different Road

2010-05-10T15:16:00.002-07:00

So remember that time I said I was going to post everyday for a month and then I almost missed Friday and actually missed Saturday? Yeah, well I'm coming to the realization that maybe I set to high of a goal. It's just impossible for me to write thoughtful posts everyday with two very active toddlers. Also, life has given me an unexpected opportunity that will make that goal increasingly difficult. Oh, it's nothing bad, I'm actually quite excited about it and I'll tell you more about it in the coming weeks.

Please accept my sincerest apologies for my flakiness. Hopefully this will mean that instead of stressing out about getting something up everyday, I can focus instead on writing things that you will actually want to read.

2010-05-09T13:39:00.001-07:00

My little sister is a big fan of Def Jam Poetry. Earlier this week she posted a poem on her blogthat literally took my breath away. It was as if the poet had looked into my mind and translated onto the page everything I think, feel, fear about being a mother.

I'm not sure I've ever felt so vulnerable as I did when I read this poem and saw every aspect of myself there. And yet, I saw the beauty and complexity in what I'm endeavoring, in how I'm going about mothering. And I had hope for the first time in a long time that I will not destroy my children in this process. I saw that my questions and silence, ambivalence and depression, fears and devotion are what make me a mother.

And so on this Mother's Day I share with you, myself.

Apology to My Unborn

i fear that you will never sleep

that like these fingers long and too thin

to hold rings and commitments

you will inherit your mother’s insomnia

her restless spirit

child, i wish I could quiet all your questions

tell you the exact number of stars

show you where the moon goes at sunrise

i wish i could temper your fear of good byes

prove that the earth spins regardless of whether or not you are awake to see it

i wish i could give you one morning worth rising for

I pray that you can close your eyes

see the world through the only thing i have fit to pass down to you

this heart of a dreamer

but i want you stronger sooner

want you kind and brave

want you unafraid to fight

for what you believe and need

want you beautiful and free

i want you nothing like your mother

this girl trembling before each new day

frightened of herself love

this girl who finds the word ‘woman’ a cloak too heavy to don

most days

you deserve someone who carries the moniker like banner

wears it easy like sun in summer

but, child, what can i tell you of peace

when you were probably conceived in a cacophony of questions

still i think of you as possible

can almost smell the breath of god light against you skin

can hear you, softness, eyes closed laughing

real as the beating staccato against my chest

but future, i fear if i

cling too fiercely to your unconditional

that i will bruise you

because i can not hold my breath long enough to shrug off these imperfections

i wonder, if they will make me too nervous to nurse you

leave me unable to find a place where just loving you is enough

child I will begin counting those same stars

and in dreams these arms will hold you

whisper you soft into a still slumber

these hands, small and strong, like your grandmother

will build for you a world of colored things

will pray, palms towards the heaven, for a quiet

without the tumble and chaos of

words and worry

child i pray that you know

that though feared, you are wanted

know how you’ve lived lifetimes in this hollow expansion of breath

know how easy you’ll fit

in my spaces

need you to know this now before time and distances help me

to forget to tell you often enough

i hope that we will not be too much like shadow and brick

voices thrown against walls

these hands are tired of building

and child i hope you will forgive my quiet

those moments when i just can’t find the words to speak

i hope my silences don’t scare you

won’t have you questioning your worth

have you turning towards friends and strangers for comfort

i want you to like me

to know me

to know that there are moments when i will wrestle with moments

that shade my best intentions

moments like now

your mother

lays awake

watching, yet, another morning from the wrong side

practicing slow this breathing that will usher you one day into this world

here, i can, almost conjure up a proper image of you

i still fear that you will never know peace

but i already know i need your laughter

need the gentle curve of your fingers

need your eyes locked on mine

need you here now for balance

but my future,

i will deny you your right to exist

before i pass on this

cracked soul of a storyteller

you deserve more than

this threat of me as your mother

still attempting my own world of colored things

so child, just promise me that you will be, eventually

i need your possibility

like i need a night worth sleeping for

-Bassey Ikpi

(You can see a video of the author performing her poem here.)

Walking Home

2010-05-07T20:18:00.000-07:00

I almost forgot to post today. It was a crazy busy day but I made a promise to post every day and a promise is a promise.

I don't have anything profound to say, also, I'm in the middle of spring cleaning. So instead of a post, I present you with this really cool video. It's a look into what women go through every time they walk down the street. It constantly surprises me the number of men who feel that it is their right to comment and objectify women's bodies. And it doesn't matter who you are or what you look like, if you are a woman you can expect to be cat-called at one time or another. Without fail, every time I go out walking, with my double stroller no less, somebody honks or yells, "hey, baby" out of the window.

If men really knew how this feels, really understood what we have to do in our minds to make this ok, they would never say another disrespectful thing. I think this video does a beautiful job of showing this. I hope you enjoy.

Weekly Anti-Woman Wacko

2010-05-06T09:12:00.003-07:00

It's that time again, time for me to highlight an anti-woman wacko who made news this week.

I read an op-ed in the New York Times earlier this week that was so full of chauvinism, cultural imperialism and xenophobia it made me sick to my stomach. Jean-Francois Cope is the president of a major French political party and the mayor of Meaux. During his career he was also the Minister of the Budget and the spokesperson for the French government. Cope is an influential leader in France but unfortunately he uses that influence to trample on the rights of Muslim women.

For those who don't know, a number of European countries and cities have passed, or are in the process of passing laws that would prohibit women from wearing face veils such as the burqa or niqab in public. The justification for such a law is that "[the face covering] is a mask, a mask worn at all times, making identification or participation in economic and social life virtually impossible."

Except that women who wear burqas do participate in economic and social life. Several months ago I took a crochet class from one of the local yarn stores. Two of my classmates were young girls, both wearing hair & face coverings. They participated like all the other members of the class, they were affable and funny young women and did not seem at all hindered by the fact that most of their face was covered. Women all over the world go to school, shop for groceries and contribute to society all while wearing veils.

Cope then goes onto say that the burqa is a safety risk:

This face covering poses a serious safety problem at a time when security cameras play an important role in the protection of public order. An armed robbery recently committed in the Paris suburbs by criminals dressed in burqas provided an unfortunate confirmation of this fact. As a mayor, I cannot guarantee the protection of the residents for whom I am responsible if masked people are allowed to run about.

The fallacy in this type of argument is astounding. Since one person wore a burqa to commit armed robbery it must follow that everyone wearing a burqa will commit armed robbery.

You're probably saying to yourself, "c'mon, mraynes, no person in their right mind would think that Muslim women are like criminals just because they wear a face veil." But wait for it...

The visibility of the face in the public sphere has always been a public safety requirement. It was so obvious that until now it did not need to be enshrined in law. But the increase in women wearing the niqab, like that of the ski mask favored by criminals, changes that. We must therefore adjust our law, without waiting for the phenomenon to spread.

Yep, he just made the argument that women in niqabs might be criminals. I'm also really looking forward to the new legislation the French National Assembly will propose...banning the ski mask.

And it just gets worse.

How can you establish a relationship with a person who, by hiding a smile or a glance — those universal signs of our common humanity — refuses to exist in the eyes of others?...But the niqab and burqa represent a refusal to exist as a person in the eyes of others. The person who wears one is no longer identifiable; she is a shadow among others, lacking individuality, avoiding responsibility.

I really have no words for how wrong this is. A woman in a burqa has no humanity? Because this man cannot gaze upon her face she has no individuality and so she ceases to exist? Really? And I love that instead of acknowledging his own bias against this Muslim dress, instead of acknowledging his own failure in seeing the humanity in another human being when they wear a burqa or nijab, he instead blames the woman. Yes, this covered woman makes you see her as non-human. Yes, that makes sense.

There are so many problematic things in this editorial. For example, saying that this isn't religious discrimination. Because you know, so many non-Muslim French women are walking down the street in burqas. And then there's the title, "Tearing Away the Veil". I think really helps Cope in his assertion that this is a benevolent law that will uphold "the dignity of women." As a woman, I can confirm that my dignity doesn't at all suffer when men or laws tear pieces of my clothing off my body.

One of Cope's more cogent arguments is that "[i]ndividual liberty is vital, but individuals, like communities, must accept compromises that are indispensable to living together, in the name of certain principles that are essential to the common good." I agree, part of peacefully living in society is compromising with our neighbors. But it is not compromise if one party is forced to give something up without receiving anything in return. So what will Muslim women be gaining in return for giving up their religious and cultural custom?

It speaks volumes that Cope does not provide one way in which this law will benefit Muslim women. Rather, it proves that the health, happiness and rights of women were not the first priority in drafting this legislation. It is ironic that French leaders believe that the burqa ban will increase the visibility, responsibility and dignity of Muslim women. In reality, this ban will further push Muslim women to the margins of society. Yes, there will be some women who choose to take the burqa off but there will be just as many who are cloistered in their homes, unable to leave because of their religious and cultural beliefs. So what, exactly, is making these women invisible?

I have to say at this point that I hate the idea of the burqa and nijab. I think they are horrible customs based on the oppression of women. That being said, it is not my right, or anybody else's to dictate how another woman worships her god.

The law that Jean-Francois Cope is proposing is just as repressive and misogynistic as the veil itself. Both the burqa and burqa ban are tools of patriarchal institutions, making women invisible and denying them the right to choose. We like to get up on our Western high-horse and proclaim our enlightened thinking, our commitment to equal rights for women. But oppression is oppression whether it comes in the form of clothing or laws that deny the right of women to control their own bodies.

Random thought...by mraynes

2010-05-05T17:18:00.003-07:00

Was it painful for Mrs. Incredible, a.k.a. Elastigirl, to give birth?

Sometimes You Need Help

2010-05-04T09:19:00.005-07:00

So by now you've notice the new look. When I decided to bring First Fig back I knew that I needed a new template, a clean slate that would inspire me to give this blog the attention it deserved.

I found a template that I really loved and went about trying to customize it to suit my needs. I'm not sure if you've ever worked with html code but it's a real pain in the neck. And unfortunately, the template I picked would not let me change the things I needed without destroying the rest of the code.

In utter frustration I decided to enlist the help of someone who knew what they were doing. And so I turned to Dawn Farias because I liked her clean designs, she was incredibly economical and I didn't have to wait 6-10 weeks in order to get the new template.

Dawn was amazing to work with. She walked me through the entire process, never got annoyed when I was flaky and was happy to incorporate any ideas I had. She also tricked me out with a fancy blog button so that all of my 5 readers can proudly proclaim that they read First Fig! ;)

If you are in need of a blog re-do but you don't want to do it yourself, Dawn is a great person to turn to.

Want To Change Things?

2010-05-03T12:22:00.001-07:00

Just Say No!

Derby Day Fun!

2010-05-02T13:33:00.005-07:00

I hope everyone had a good May Day/Derby Day yesterday?

A good deal of my childhood was spent in Kentucky and across the river in Cincinnati. Derby Day is a huge deal in that part of the country and I remember going to parties every year. Despite no longer living in the Bluegrass State, I like to celebrate Derby Day with my family. Unfortunately, mr. mraynes had concerts all day yesterday so we weren't able to watch the horse race, make our yearly hot brown sandwhiches or drink mint juleps.

Never one to be deterred from my favorite traditions, we tivod the race and made our traditional Derby Day fare today. Personally, I think everybody should enjoy Derby Day so I'm including my favorite recipes.

Mint Juleps:

Hot Brown Sandwiches: (I know it looks gross in the picture but they are very good!)

Anyway, I hope you enjoy these lovelies in the future!

And We're Off...

2010-05-01T11:22:00.004-07:00

Ready, Set, Go.

I'm excited about getting this blog up and running again. In the next couple of days I will be introducing a new look, a clean slate to start over with. I will also be posting at least once a day for a month so that I can get back into the habit.

First Fig is going to be a little different from here on out. Yes, I will still be providing my insightful commentary on all things feminist and Mormon but I will also be including more mundane things as well. I'm hopeful that in broadening my scope this blog will be a much more enjoyable place for all of us.

So, let's get things started.

Have you heard about Mormon May Day?

Here's the idea:

As moderate, liberal or radical Mormons, it is time to make our voices heard WITHIN Mormonism...guided by the spirit, liberal and radical interpretations of the Gospel and scriptures are just as valid as those made by Conservatives.

This group proposes that those of us who fall in the spectrum of moderate, liberal or radical Mormons participate in May Day activities. Where I live in Denver, there was a march to demand sensible and humane immigration legislation from our elected leaders. Unfortunately we weren't able to participate but I did drive by and honk my horn in solidarity.

mr. mraynes and I will be participating tomorrow in a fast for "for those who are working all over the world to advance the causes of the Gospel, social justice, environmental sustainability and fighting the root causes of poverty." Perhaps this is something you would like to do as well.

Starting this blog again is a sign for my new optimism for the future. There are exciting things afoot and I'm glad you guys are along for the ride with me.

Oh, and Happy Derby Day!

I'm Not Back Yet

2010-03-03T21:17:00.004-07:00

Dear Readers (If you even still exist):

I'm sorry for my absence. Life has been hard. I'm starting to feel better and am hoping to resurrect this blog in the near future.

As you can see, I've tweaked the layout which is why I'm actually posting now, I'm testing this new layout. When I return, First Fig will be a much cooler place. So stay tuned.

Until then, please enjoy my latest post over at The Exponent:

How You Can Help A Victim of Domestic Violence

Every month or so I'll get a call from a friend or acquaintance asking me for information to help a loved one involved in a violent relationship. We all know or will know a victim of domestic violence; the current statistics are one in three women will be abused in some manner during her lifetime. I have two younger sisters and it blows my mind that statistically, one of us will be in an abusive relationship.
Knowing this, it is vital that information on how best to support victims of violence be readily available. I have found, however, that there is a general uneasiness and confusion on how best to do this. In my previous work with victims I gained some very specific knowledge that I thought might be useful to share here. To make things easier, I will use female pronouns since women are more likely to be victims but this information applies equally to men as they can also be victims of domestic violence, too.
So, what to do if you know & love a victim of domestic violence:
First, be a listening and non-judgmental ear. You cannot help your loved one if they don't trust you.
When or if a victim confides in you about an unhealthy relationship you must first determine the lethality of the situation to determine the best course of action.
If it is not a lethal relationship, meaning there is no current threat of severe bodily harm or death, I think it best to start with domestic violence education. I particularly like the Power & Control Wheel because it covers all the different ways abuse might be present in a relationship. (If you are dealing with a teenage abusive relationship, this version is better suited for their unique needs.) After going through the wheel with the victim I then like to show them the Equality Wheel so they have an idea of what a healthy relationship looks like. (Teen version here.)
At this point there are several choices to be made, all belonging to the victim. Remember, your job is to be a support, any pressure from you will make things worse. Your loved one may choose to stay and work on the relationship. If this is their choice, I would suggest having her attend an outpatient domestic violence support group. There she will receive more domestic violence education and connect with other women in similar situations. Many social service agencies have these kinds of support groups but you can call the National Domestic Violence Hotline and they can refer you to the appropriate places if you need further help.
If your loved one chooses to leave the abusive relationship, provisions must be made for her physical and emotional support. Despite having worked at a domestic violence shelter, I think it always preferable for victims to be surrounded by family at this difficult time. If your loved one will be living with family, make sure she is enrolled in a support group. If it is not possible for her to live with family then dv shelters are a safe, supportive place to go and they offer wonderful services. Domestic violence shelters will provide food and shelter, support groups and domestic violence education as well as targeted case management to help the victim get back on her feet. You can get referrals to local domestic violence shelters through the national dv hotline linked to above.
Know that the average woman will leave an abusive relationship seven times before she leaves for good. Although this will be frustrating to you, try to be as non-judgmental as possible; the dynamics of abuse are very complicated and it is difficult to extricate one's self from the figurative strangle-hold the abuser has over his victim. Be patient and remember that your loved one needs your support during these time more than ever. Also, please be aware that the most dangerous time for an abuse victim is after they leave the relationship. I strongly recommend having your loved one do a safety plan with a domestic violence advocate and get an Order of Protection if appropriate.
If, when you first speak to a victim, it appears that her situation is very dangerous, the first priority is to get her and any children safe. I would recommend a domestic violence shelter at this point because they are at un-disclosed locations and it will be more difficult for an abuser to find her.
Next, get the victim an Order of Protection. Many shelters will help out with this, they may even have a legal advocate on staff. If not, most superior courts do have legal advocates on staff and they can help victims navigate the complicated legal system for free. I can't recommend using a lawyer or legal advocate enough; they understand the intricacies of the system and will be able to provide the victim with the most comprehensive Order of Protection possible. As a side note, if you feel like your safety is at risk for helping the victim, you may get an Injunction Against Harassment. While not as powerful as an order of protection, it might give you some peace of mind.
It is the goal of all domestic violence advocates to keep the victim safe and help them start a new, healthy life. Regardless of whether your loved one goes into shelter, I would utilize the services of dv advocates because they can provide your loved one with the most resources to overcome this traumatic experience and come through a survivor.
This post is getting too long but if you're interested, I would be happy to do a follow-up post on what to do if your loved one gets caught up in the justice system or what you can do to help victims of domestic violence more generally. If you have question, please comment and I'll do my best to answer. Also, I would love for those of you with experience in this matter to share tips that have worked or not worked so that others can learn from them. Domestic violence is a pervasive problem in our society, it affects all of us in one way or another. Only through education and commitment can we come close to ending this evil.

Because Today is a Day That I Need a Blessing

2009-09-29T13:04:00.002-07:00

Beannacht

("Blessing")

On the day when

the weight deadens

on your shoulders

and you stumble,

may the clay dance

to balance you.

And when your eyes

freeze behind

the grey window

and the ghost of loss

gets in to you,

may a flock of colours,

indigo, red, green,

and azure blue

come to awaken in you

a meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays

in the currach of thought

and a stain of ocean

blackens beneath you,

may there come across the waters

a path of yellow moonlight

to bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,

may the clarity of light be yours,

may the fluency of the ocean be yours,

may the protection of the ancestors be yours.

And so may a slow

wind work these words

of love around you,

an invisible cloak

to mind your life.

~ John O'Donohue ~

(Echoes of Memory)

A Poem for a Friend

2009-09-09T21:08:00.003-07:00

#258

There's a certain Slant of light,

Winter Afternoons-

That oppresses, like the Heft

Of Cathedral Tunes-

Heavenly Hurt, it gives us-

We can find no scar,

But internal difference-

Where the Meanings, are-

None may teach it - Any-

'Tis the Seal Despair-

An imperial affliction

Sent us of the Air-

When it comes, the Landscape listens-

Shadows - hold their breath-

When it goes, 'tis like the Distance

On the look of Death-

~Emily Dickinson

The Truth About Pop Music and Feminism

2009-09-09T10:51:00.002-07:00

Cross-Posted at the Exponent

This past Saturday, mr. mraynes and I watched High Fidelity for the first time. About fifteen minutes into the movie, the John Cusack character asks, "Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable, or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?" This question resonated with me because I have recently been asking myself a similar question:
Am I feminist because I'm discontented, or am I discontented because I'm a feminist?
Since leaving my job, moving to a new state and becoming a stay-at-home mother, I have felt a level of unhappiness that truly surprised me. I expected the transition to be hard but I did not expect to feel so vulnerable all of the time. My self-esteem completely collapsed in the space of two weeks and I am left feeling overwhelmingly helpless. Things are starting to get better, I am settling into a routine and I'm sure that with time, I will even enjoy being at home. But that doesn't negate the very real fact that changing my fairly progressive lifestyle to a traditional one has wreaked havoc on my emotions, my relationships and my general happiness with life.
My question above is a proverbial chicken and egg question and really one of assigning blame; whose fault is it for my disillusionment with domesticity? The answer may seem obvious but humor me for a minute. Let's analyze the first part of my question, am I feminist because I'm discontented? This begs the question, what in my life makes me discontented enough to turn to feminism? Well, the lack of quantifiable equality within the church and its' rhetoric on gender causes me a great deal of pain and frustration. The invisibility of women in scripture, doctrine and bureaucracy is problematic at best. The diminishing of women to certain roles by Mormon culture echoes the objectification of women found in our broader society. We, as Mormons and members of society, should do better. This is why I am a feminist, to document, analyze and hopefully make better the small circles in which I travel.
If we are getting more specific to my life, I hate the inequitable division of domestic labor that mr. mraynes and I have now. Yes, he comes home and does the dishes but it doesn't equal the multiple times I am on my hands and knees picking up cheerios each day. I hate feeling dependent on my husband to cover my basic needs. If I was to look at our relationship through the lens of academic feminism, the power dynamic in our relationship has changed dramatically. Money is power; before we were both financially contributing to our family, now I rely on the good will of mr. mraynes to see his money as "our money." My knowledge of feminist theory is what I use to empower myself, it is my safety net in case I ever have to remind mr. mraynes not to be a misogynistic jerk. (I should note that this whole paragraph is horribly unfair to mr. mraynes who, himself, has been the stay-at-home dad and who has been nothing but kind, supportive and an egalitarian angel throughout this transition and our whole marriage.)
This brings me to the second half of my question, am I discontented because I'm a feminist? This is a hard question for me to want to answer honestly. Certainly if I didn't have the framework of Friedan, Steinem, de Beauvoir, Toscano, it would be harder for me to articulate the gender inequities that I saw in the church, society or my individual life. I guess the question is, would I see them at all if I wasn't a feminist? I can't answer this question because I have never not been a feminist. I grew up in an egalitarian home and, although my feminism grew from that point, my expectation from life has always been equality. But in my dark moments (like the one that caused me to vow never to set foot in the Denver Public Library again), I really have to wonder, would I be happier if I always had the expectation of a traditional lifestyle and wanted nothing else? The "grass is always greener" side of me says yes, after all, Seriously So Blessed isn't parodying nothing.
Does feminism make women happy is another proverbial question, one that has had lots of heated discussion already bestowed upon it. (See here, hereand here for a few examples). This is the conclusion I've come to: if feminism makes people unhappy it is because it illuminates all of the nasty parts of reality. It is much nicer to pretend inequality doesn't exist or to not care if it does because it doesn't affect you. I understand that this is a personal decision for every woman and man to make and I don't judge anybody for not wanting to live a life where they see sexism, oppression and abuse all around them. But the truth is, these things do exist and some of us are going to see and speak it even if it is inconvenient or uncomfortable.
In the end, attempts to place blame, whether it be on feminism, the church or leprechauns, are always red herrings. Truth is complex and often it is easier to blame an other than to be comfortable with that complexity. I am currently trying to accept my own truth; yes, I am discontent because I'm a feminist, but also because reality sucks and I am pre-disposed to be melancholy. But I gain nothing by blaming anybody or anything for my unhappiness; all I can do is work hard to find some measure of joy in the place that I am.

Alright, it's time

2009-09-02T19:53:00.003-07:00

So it has been a month. A lot has changed in my life; we have moved states, I am a full time stay at home mother. I now spend my time picking up cheerios instead of sending out memos. I would be lying if I said the transition has been easy. It hasn't. And I expect the transition will continue to be difficult.

I'm alright with this and I should say that I really love spending the extra time with my children, they are precious beyond words. Right now I am just trying to organize things in my life so that I can maximize the enjoyment that both the children and I get from staying at home. I will keep you updated on this journey.

On a side note, I recently took a survey concerning feminism and its relation to motherhood. You should go take it, it will help out a couple of grad students and provide them with further data.

Click here to participate.

Dear Readers

2009-08-02T11:47:00.002-07:00

I have no idea if there are even any of you out there still. I promise I am here but life has gotten in the way. I am moving to Denver in two days where life as I know it will look entirely different. The biggest change is that I will be staying at home full time with my babies. I am hopeful that this difference in particular will re-motivate me to actually write a blog worth reading.

I beg your patience for a little longer while I sort through my life. Hopefully I will see you on the other side.

The Double-Bind

2009-06-01T22:01:00.002-07:00

About a month ago I had the opportunity to attend an all day conference about the dynamics of gender violence in the South Asian community. The conference was put on by a wonderful South Asian feminist non-profit organization in Phoenix that I work with and was one of the best conferences I have ever attended.

Among the excellent speakers was a representative of the Peaceful Families Project which is a national organization devoted to ending domestic violence in Muslim families. I was impressed with the mission and the action of this particular organization but I found myself becoming more and more frustrated with the speaker as she progressed through her presentation. Although very knowledgeable about the Quran and the culture of Islam, the speaker seemed unable to acknowledge the problematic aspects of her religion. My frustration came to a climax when the speaker used the Quran’s Sura (chapter) four, verse thirty-four as proof of the progressive nature of Islam. Here is a translation of that scripture:

Husbands should take full care of their wives, with [the bounties] God has given
to some more than others and with what they spend out of their own money.
Righteous wives are devout and guard what God would have them guard in the
husbands’ absence. If you fear high-handedness from your wives, remind them
[of the teaching of God], then ignore them when you go to bed, then hit
them. If they obey you, you have no right to act against them. God is most
high and great. (Haleem, 2004).

If you are wondering what is progressive in this, men are commanded to provide for their wives and if there are problems, they are told to first separate and only hit their wives if the separation doesn’t work. (In other translations, men are told to lightly beat their wives which I suppose is better than savagely beating your wife. (Go here for further translations and explanations.) I was perfectly willing to suspend my disbelief and categorize this scripture as a product of its time but to be told that it was a good thing for women was more than I could take. It was at this moment that I realized that for the first time in my life, I was on the opposite side of the double-bind.

The double-bind is a dilemma that many feminists find themselves in when they participate in a patriarchal religion or cultural tradition. Feminists of faith who identify with religions where women are not equal in either the theology or the institution find themselves caught between the two worlds they love, risking the reputation as a dissidents by fellow believers and as pawns of the patriarchy by secular feminists.

As a Mormon feminist I often find myself in the middle of this double-bind. I have been told on more than one occasion by fellow brothers and sisters in Christ that I don’t have a testimony and that my heart is hard, that I have been deluded by Satan and that I should just leave the church. I have also been pitied, ridiculed and dismissed by feminists who say they care about women's choices. The tension of being stuck between these two worlds is often overwhelming and painful and yet I find that there is very little compassion for women like me. So when I found myself in the role of the skeptical feminist, judging another woman for her faith in and apology for parts of a religion I find offensive, I was so ashamed of myself. That Muslim woman and I are in the same position; we are both believers of a religion that is undeniably problematic for women but nevertheless brings happiness, peace and meaning to our lives.

In the time since the conference, I have thought a lot about how to integrate my feminism and my faith and how to thrive within the double-bind. In order to make it as a faithful feminist you have to accept the double-bind as inevitable; secular feminists will never fully accept you and neither will members of the church. The trick is not to care; live in a way that is authentic to yourself and the God you love. The Muslim woman I spoke of earlier might have frustrated both the traditional believer of Islam and the outsider but nobody could accuse her of not believing in the God she wanted to believe in. There is nothing inauthentic about that.

I worry that the Mormon Church is losing amazing feminist women and men in the search for authenticity. I certainly do not mean to offend those of you who have chosen to leave, obviously the individual must do what is best for themselves and their family. But for those who are in the process of choosing or have already chosen to stay please don’t believe that it is impossible to live authentically as an active Mormon feminist. The truth is our lives are only as authentic as we make them. You don’t have to believe in or make apologies for doctrines and practices you find offensive. I have found that the more honest I am with believers, non-believers and myself, the less I feel pulled between the worlds of feminism and the gospel that I care so deeply about.

I will never say that life in the double-bind is easy or even desirable. I cannot promise an existence of peace and acceptance. I can say that the double-bind is a very brave life; it is not easy to live with that amount of complexity for a prolonged period of time. But there are rewards; there is something in losing yourself in a cause that seems impossible. There is something in the humility that comes from being dismissed on all sides. There is something in those quiet moments where God whispers to your heart “keep going” and gives you that one last breath to make it through Relief Society. There is something in shaking your fist at God and asking why until you feel like your soul will explode and then taking that energy and being the change you think God would want.

They are simple gifts…but who needs more than passion and God?

Dear Readers

2009-05-21T08:51:00.004-07:00

I'm sorry I have been slacking on this blog recently, it has been a crazy couple of weeks. Here are my excuses:

First- we went on vacation to New Mexico where I had very little access to the internet.

Second- mr. mraynes graduated and so now he is dr. mraynes.

Third- we had all sorts of family in town and my attention was diverted.

Fourth- the IT department blocked most of the internet so I can't update or even read from
work.

Fifth- I have had writer's block.

Sixth- and anxiety.

Are those good enough? Am I forgiven? I promise that I have a couple of really great posts floating around in my mind, including a suprising weekly wacko. Just bear with me until I get my act together. Until then, here's a poem that I love.

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

~Mary Oliver

How Not to be a Feminist Rocker-Man

2009-04-27T16:15:00.004-07:00

As I have stated in some of my previous posts, I am interested in exploring the ways men contribute to the fight for equality between the sexes. One of the bloggers over at The Pursuit of Harpyness posted the lyrics to a song that I thought provided a good example of how to fail at being a feminist man.

This is a song by Ben Lee, entitled "I am a woman." (You can see a video here).

It’s true, it’s true
I’m a woman too
I move with the flow of the seasons

I do, I do
Cause I’m a woman too
I don’t make sense but I got my reasons

So hear me roar
I will not be ignored
If you’ve ever had to fight
You’re a sister of mine
If you’re heart’s got something to prove
Then you’re a woman too

It’s here, it’s clear
Is what can be unfair
There’s always someone being kept down.
It’s true, it’s true
Cause I’m a woman too
So shut me up and I’m gonna get loud

[chorus: So hear me roar, etc.]

The African he’s a woman too
The American he’s a woman too
The Palestinian he’s a woman too
The Jew? He’s a woman too
The freedom fighter, he’s a woman too
The messiah, he’s a woman too
This planet, he’s a woman too
And you you’re a woman too
You’re a woman too

Now I know that this song makes about as much sense as the language that spews out of my baby monster's mouth, but apparently Mr. Lee is using the word "woman" as a substitute for the word "oppressed". I suppose he deserves credit for recognizing that women are oppressed but he would have won more points without the whole "women are irrational" stereotype.

mr. mraynes hates when I tell him he doesn't understand something because he's a man. I totally understand why this bothers him, it's the ultimate trump card and its hard to have a productive conversation after I've played it. But I need mr. mraynes to be a man; I need to understand his male experience and thinking much more than I need him to understand what it is like to be a woman...I already get that.

So I guess what I'm saying to all you feminist men out there is be men and be proud of it! Us women-folk have the woman thing down; we need you to confront the gender problems from your male perspective.

Oh, and if you want to write a subversive feminist song, this is how you do it!

At A Window

2009-04-24T17:14:00.002-07:00

(My father recited this poem at our wedding and I have loved it ever since. This has been a crazy week for me; I am in the process of hiring a new employee and I was asked to give a lecture about empowerment that I spent the week preparing for. I'm done with the interviews and the lecture went great so I can think about this blog again. I have a really great weekly wacko that I'll try to get up tomorrow. Till then, here's a little love.)

Give me hunger,
O you godes that sit and give
The World its orders.
Give me hunger, pain and want,
Shut me out with shame and failure
From your doors of gold and fame,
Give me your shabbiest, weariest hunger!

But leave me a little love,
A voice to speak to me in the day end,
A hand to touch me in the dark room
Breaking the long loneliness.
In the dusk of day-shapes
Blurring the sunset,
One little wandering, western star
Thrust out from the changing shores of shadow.
Let me go to the window,
Watch there the day-shapes of dusk
And wait and know the coming
Of a little love.

~Carl Sandburg

Weekly Anti-Woman Wacko

2009-04-16T16:06:00.004-07:00

I sometimes feel that I am not grateful enough for the gender equality that I enjoy in my country and in my religion. I am reminded of how truly blessed I am when leaders of other countries pass laws like the one Hamid Karzai just passed in Afghanistan. One provision makes it illegal for a woman to reject her husbands sexual advances, effectively legalizing marital rape. (Although, in an effort to compromise, Karzai suggested that the law should be changed to require women to have sex with their husbands every four days. I'm looking for a way to be sarcastic about this but words fail me.) Another provision would not allow girls or women to attend school or work or even leave the house without their father or husband's permission. Women also could not refuse to wear makeup if their husband required it.

Yesterday, 300 very brave Afghan women marched in the street to protest this law and demanded that they be given equal rights...that they be treated like human beings! For this action they were called whores and had stones thrown at them.

I am weeping as I write this because it should not hurt to be a woman and I want to know why it does? Can somebody please explain to me why my Afghan sisters have to ask permission from their government not to be raped?

And in case you're feeling a little too comfortable in the privilege of being a woman living in the United States, spousal rape was only made a punishable crime country-wide in 1993 with the passing of stricter sexual offense codes. Despite the criminalization of marital rape, there are still at least thirty-three states that grant exemptions to the perpetrators in certain cases. There is also one major university granting an honorary doctorate to a famous marital rape apologist THIS YEAR!

We should never be fooled into thinking that we have reached the pinnacle of equality. We are all connected and until our sisters in Afghanistan enjoy the same rights we do, no woman will ever be truly equal.

Egalitarians vs. Patriarchalists

2009-04-14T13:34:00.002-07:00

I saw this quote over at Feminist Mormon Housewives and thought that I would share it here to go along with my exploration of the different ways Mormon men are helping move the Church in a more progressive direction:

“The world of men is dividing into egalitarians and patriarchalists–those
men who are trying to learn the language and customs of the newly emerging
world, and those who are determined to keep that new order from taking root. The
former group welcomes these changes, seeing that though they are painful in the
short term, over the long term they provide the only route to intimacy and
peace. But the latter group sees only loss…. The patriarchalists’ world view,
shared by women as well as men, is battling the emerging egalitarian world view,
which is also shared by people of both sexes.”
~ Naomi Wolf

So what do you think? Also, go read the discussion over at fMh, it's fascinating.

Weekly Anti-Woman Wacko: Hopeful Edition

2009-04-08T11:33:00.004-07:00

I got an interesting response to my post "Hope in Feminist Sisterhood" over at the Exponent from somebody calling themselves Holder86:

Mormon feminism? Why does it have to always be about women? Why can’t there
be Masculinism? Feminism is what women use to feel superior to men. There is no
need to be superior. Accept that men and women have different roles for a
reason. Mom’s and Dad’s. Dad works and Mum looks after the children. This is the
Mormon Culture. You can’t change the culture. You don’t like the culture then be
a feminist in another religion. There are many talks by Apostles about how there
is to be no feminism in the Mormon Church. Leave political beliefs to politics
and leave religion to religion. Be a feminist in politics if you want some
action but not in a religion…especially the Mormon one.

My first reaction was, "What? Are you kidding me?" I truly think that Mr. Holder86 was just trying to stir the pot and bring to boil the feminist blood. Seriously, who thinks like this anymore? Normally I don't respond to people like Holder because, what's the point? But then mr. mraynes made this excellent point that bears repeating here:

I guess holder86 has highlighted the uselessness of the term feminism. It’s
not useless because of its ideals, but because of the way a few have used it at
times to push a female superiority agenda. And the word itself does smack of
such a doctrine. But that is not its true aim!

Holder86, were I to extend your logic to its conclusion, I could argue that
our church does in fact practice “Masculinism”, better known as patriarchy. Men
run this church, especially its public face. I mean, it is 2009 and TWO women
share talks at General Conference alongside dozens of men. Am I the only one who
finds this ridiculous, especially when we already have an entire session devoted
to the priesthood? Couldn’t we at least hear from one woman at each of the four
general sessions?

At its core, feminism is no different than the set of teachings we call the
Gospel of Jesus Christ. Feminism, like the Gospel, espouses the fundamental
(spiritual) equality (rather than equivalence) of all souls, both male and
female. We all have the same value in the eyes of our divine Parents and
especially our Savior. All deserve love, respect, and happiness.

This is why I have called this week's anti-woman wacko the hopeful edition because men like mr. mraynes exist and are thinking and saying things like this.

I think these two comments present an interesting illustration as to what is going on in the church today. Holder on the one hand, takes the traditional point of view and thinks that feminism is damaging and sinful, at least in a religious context. He believes that Mormon culture is just as true as Mormon doctrine and any questioning of that culture is an affront to our way of life. Unfortunately for Holder, those who hold his opinion are dying out. His understanding of marriage and the relationship between men and women is rich in its immaturity and lacks a complex world view.

Times are changing and I would venture to say that a large part of the church cannot follow the “Dad works and Mum looks after the children” paradigm, especially now in this time of economic crisis. In fact the apostles themselves have distanced themselves from this paradigm by using the convenient word, “primarily.” The previous paradigm was stifled in immaturity; women remained dependent and men were trapped in a dogmatic system. So yes, I believe culture can change; culture is no excuse for not becoming all that we can be. We are here on this earth to become like our Heavenly Parents and any step towards equality is a step towards them. The apostles and prophets are nothing, if not pragmatic and they understand that most men and women today expect equality. The fact that they have endorsed this kind of existence says to me that our leaders now expect men to be more mature and women more assertive. Though they may not explicitly use the word feminism, the apostles have increasingly turned to the rhetoric of equal partnership and shared housekeeping/childrearing responsibilities…all of which are primary tenants of feminism.

Mr. mraynes, on the other hand, recognizes the potential danger of feminism (like any ideology, it can be taken too far) but realizes that the true ideal of the word is something that is very much backed up by our doctrine and by the leaders of our church. You can find the gospel mr. mraynes espouses in our scriptures and in the words of our prophets. There are more and more men who recognize that there are inequities in our church structure and are open to ideas on how to make it better (mr. mraynes came up with a fantastic idea!). And there are more and more men like my husband who truly do want to be equal to women…Who want to be equally present in the home and to fully share in beauty and complexity of life with their partner. The good news that I see in this illustration is that it is men like my husband, feminist men, who are going to rise up and make the changes with women by their sides.

Over the next couple of weeks I would like to explore ways in which men can join the fight for true equality between the sexes. And to Holder86 and the other anti-woman wackos like him, you might want to start swimming because there is a tidal wave coming.

Hope in Feminist Sisterhood

2009-04-06T14:23:00.000-07:00

Cross-posted at the Exponent

I was sitting at my desk in the Smith Institute for LDS History back in the days when it was still at BYU, reading through a newspaper article that one of the professors I worked with had been interviewed for. And I remember feeling so alone. The article was entitled “Where Have All the Mormon Feminists Gone?” and it basically asserted that the Mormon women of my generation had no use for feminism. This was in the days before Feminist Mormon Housewives, back when VOICE at BYU had died a quiet death and a year before its softer re-incarnation, Parity, was born.

But I had a primal need for feminism; feminism was in my blood and in my bones and I felt isolated and assumed that I was alone in my concern for women’s space within a Mormon context. I had professors, both female and male, who nurtured my burgeoning feminism in the academic sphere but there was no one at that time, to gently lead me into the lonely road of being a feminist and a Mormon woman.

If somebody had told me then. that five years later I would be holding my baby girl at an academic Mormon feminist conference, I’m not sure I would have believed them! I, like so many others, thought Mormon feminism was silenced and dead, or at least softer. And maybe this was so for a while but it is certainly not the case anymore.

I have felt the ground shift and have seen the swell of excitement, creativity and thoughtfulness. Patriarchy, beware! We are making history just as Eliza and Emmeline, Laurel, Margaret and Claudia did before us. Mormon feminists are not just passive actors in our theological history, we have been a vital force from the very beginning.

Of course, Mormon feminists today experience a very different church from the one 2nd wavers influenced during the 60’s and 70’s. There is so much distrust and many open wounds still left unhealed. My feminists sisters are also probably less optimistic that things will change. But this new feminist movement has reignited in only five years; think of the change we can accomplish in ten years, twenty!

Being a Mormon feminist is inconvenient and lonely. Other members of the church will think that you are crazy or sinful/prideful/power-hungry/deluded. You will have hard questions left unanswered. You will think really painful things about your community and God. But there is room in Mormon feminism for optimism.

Even if the church does not change or the questions go unanswered, you will always have sisters at your side. They will be there to teach you how to crochet and giggle with you late into the night. They will be there to help carry the burden, to mourn and cry with you. They will be there to walk down the long road with you.

I have posted before how I worry for my daughter’s future as a Mormon woman. But today, I don’t worry because I know that she will have mothers and sisters who will always be at her side. And that is enough.

2009-04-04T13:14:00.002-07:00

I love you.

Weekly Anti-Woman Wacko: Vintage Postcard Edition

2009-04-03T10:28:00.004-07:00

I'm tired. It has been an such an emotionally exhausting week that I couldn't bear to write about another wacko. So instead I have provided some vintage anti-woman, Italian postcards for your viewing "pleasure".

Lovely, huh? Well these little beauties are selling for $18 a piece at several anti-woman websites which I won't link to. Misogyny is alive and well, people!

God Says Yes To Me

2009-04-01T10:14:00.004-07:00

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes
I asked her if it was okay to be short
and she said it sure is
I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that sometimes
she said you can do just exactly
what you want to
Thanks God I said
And is it even okay if I don't paragraph
my letters
Sweetcakes God said
who knows where she picked that up
what I'm telling you is
Yes Yes Yes

~Kaylin Haught

(Thanks to Caroline for bringing this fantastatic poem to my attention!)

Weekly Anti-Woman Wacko

2009-03-26T13:00:00.002-07:00

I don't have a ton of time today as I'm headed off to a Mormon feminist retreat in Southern California, but I couldn't leave with out nominating my weekly wacko. As I'm in a hurry I've picked a video for you all to watch, I think it's pretty self-explanatory as to why this is my pick for weekly wacko.

This makes me so insanely angry that I can barely even talk about it. It really would be nice to live in a country where women were trusted and allowed to make informed decisions on their own behalf. The fact that we are not only goes to show how far we have to go in order for women to have true equality in this country.

For better analysis into Personhood USA, see here.

God's Wrath Completly Satisfied (or Karma): A Two Scene Dramady

2009-03-24T16:53:00.007-07:00

Scene One: A woman walks out of trendy salon basking in the relaxation of being pampered for two hours. Just as the relaxation is going to her head, the woman is approached by an earnest young man.

Earnest Young Man: Do you know what "the gospel" means?

Woman: (The woman answers but looks unsure as to where the conversation will go) Yes...?

Earnest Young Man: It means the good news. (The Earnest Young Man hands the woman a card.) Do you believe in Jesus Christ?

Woman: Yes.

Earnest Young Man: That's awesome! And do you believe the only way back to God is through Jesus Christ?

Woman: Ummm...Yes.

Earnest Young Man: And do you believe that all those who do not believe in Jesus Christ will be condemned to hell and suffer eternal torture? (Earnest Young Man is becoming orgasmic with anticipation.)

Woman: No.

Earnest Young Man: (Looking completely crestfallen.) But that is in the scriptures, how can you not believe that?

Woman: Because I believe in a God of love and mercy. I do not believe in a god that gets pleasure from the suffering of his children.

Earnest Young Man: And who taught you that?

Woman: Nobody needed to teach me that (taking umbrage with the young man's patronizing tone). I have felt the truthfulness of God's love for myself. But if you're wondering if I belong to a church, yes, I am a Mormon.

Earnest Young Man: Oh really? (Looking as if he has just been introduced to Satan himself). Do you know that Mormons aren't Christian?

Woman: I know that you believe that and I am ok with that. I also know that, regardless of what you think or believe, I am a Christian.

Earnest Young Man: I know you are not a Christian because you do not believe in the word of God. The scriptures tell us that we are all born enemies to God and none of us is good. Because of this, God will pour out his wrath on the day of judgement, which is coming! God provided Jesus Christ to be the propitiation for our sins. Do you know what propitiation means (using patronizing tone again)? The reason Jesus is our propitiation is that while he was hanging on the tree, God poured out his wrath and fury on His son. It pleased God to crush His son and to unleash His justice on Christ. Jesus is now sitting on the right hand of God until He returns with vengeance on all who disobeyed the gospel. That is scripture!

Woman: That is your interpretation of Scripture. I have a different interpretation. I have a knowledge of God's goodness, God's love and mercy. You cannot convince me that it is wrong. I am glad you have a faith that brings you peace, my faith brings me peace as well. Now I have to get home to my babies.

Earnest Young Man: Are you leading them down the road of hell too?

(The woman rolls her eyes and smiles to herself as she walks away.)

End of Scene

Scene Two: The woman walks through the door to her home and is greeted by her husband. He looks at her adoringly and lovingly touches her hair to examine the new cut.

Husband: Your hair looks great! Did the stylist thin it out?

Woman: Yes, she told me that I have more hair than anyone she has ever seen.

Husband: Yeah, it was kind of like a red, furry monster was growing out of your head and eating your face. Is that why it took so long?

Woman: (the woman ignores her husband's quip about her previous hairstyle.) No, I was getting condemned to hell by a street preacher. (The woman hands her husband the card.)

Husband: Oh, fun! (Husband looks at the card.) This is completely incomprehensible. It's worse than a legal document.

(He flips the card over.) Hmmm, ironic that they misspelled "completely".

Woman: (Woman takes the card from her husband and looks at it intently.) I guess God's wrath is only nine-tenths satisfied.

End of Scene

Weekly Anti-Woman Wacko[s]: St. Patrick's Day Edition

2009-03-17T16:16:00.003-07:00

The Irish Times recently published a charming op-ed piece by Newton Emerson entitled, "Working Women Almost Certainly Caused the Credit Crunch." Here are a few highlights:

The answer to all our problems is staring us in the face...Does the woman
in your life really need a job?...

Of course there will always be a place in the world of business for
exceptional women. Women also have an important role to play in jobs that
are too demeaning for men, like teaching. But the general employment
of women is another matter. Indeed, working women almost certainly caused
the credit crunch by bringing a second income into the average household,
pushing property prices up to unsustainable levels...

It would be ludicrous to suggest that women should be sacked purely to give
men their jobs...In many cases, their jobs should be abolished as well...

While the economic case for fewer women in the workforce is irrefutable, we
should also acknowledge the social advantages. Women make the majority of
spending decisions in Irish households and make almost all of the
purchases. They are far more likely than men to regard shopping as a
leisure activity...In short, women were the driving force behind the greed,
consumerism and materialism...and it was female employment that funded their oestrogen-crazed acquisitiveness.

Pretty funny, huh? No? Well it was supposed to be. Apparently this was a satire piece taking aim at the chauvinist media. The problem was that nobody got it.

The article quickly went viral and set off a firestorm. There was an account of this article being forwarded three hundred times in the space of a couple of hours around one large company that employed most men. Reportedly, these men viewed the article in a positive light.

As you might expect, women were none to happy about this op-ed. Hundreds of women sent in angry letters to the editor only to receive a curt letter back informing them that the piece was satire, along with a suggestion that they develop a sense of humor.

After reading through Newton Emerson's essay several times, I can see that it is satire, it is bad satire but, satire nonetheless. However, the reason people didn't get it was because there was no clear target, the piece was just too broad. Satire is not funny if it is overly believable. I picked this piece as an illustration of a weekly wacko because there is no cognitive dissonance in believing that a person could hold this kind of opinion.

Women have historically been blamed for the downfalls of society. We can start with Mother Eve and wind our way through the annals of history to today where working women are blamed for everything from increased juvenile delinquency to childhood obesity. (I heard that one over the pulpit).

So yes, I can understand how this unfunny piece of satire was misunderstood; it hit too close to home to the bullsh*t that working women have to put up with everyday. Is it not enough that working women have to face their own guilt every morning they walk out the door, do we really have to blame them for all of societies ills?

Shame on Mr. Emerson for being a horrible satirist. Shame on the Irish Times for exploiting pervasive and pernicious sexism. And shame on any man or woman who truly thinks that all of society's problems will be solved the moment we kick women out of the workforce. You are all my weekly wackos.

812

2009-03-16T13:59:00.002-07:00

A Light exists in Spring
Not present on the Year
At any other period —
When March is scarcely here

A Color stands abroad
On Solitary Fields
That Science cannot overtake
But Human Nature feels.

It waits upon the Lawn,
It shows the furthest Tree
Upon the furthest Slope you know
It almost speaks to you.

Then as Horizons step
Or Noons report away
Without the Formula of sound
It passes and we stay —

A quality of loss
Affecting our Content
As Trade had suddenly encroached
Upon a Sacrament.

~Emily Dickinson

Weekly Anti-Woman Wacko

2009-03-11T19:13:00.003-07:00

I am instituting a new weekly feature: The Weekly Anti-Woman Wacko.

I can't tell you the number of times I have been told that the feminist movement is no longer relevant because now women can open bank accounts, work outside the home, get abortions and supposedly receive equal protection under the law. I can't even begin to tell people how far from the truth this is. So from now on, I will be posting weekly examples of why feminism is still relevant and desperately needed.

Drum-roll please. This week's anti-woman wacko goes to...Mark Belling.

For those of you who don't know Mark Belling, he has a right-wing talk radio show in Milwaukee. Belling is known for his outrageous and often incindiary antics, including the use of a racial epithet that got him suspended from the airwaves for a week. I can't say anymore about him without feeling the need to take a shower, so I think I will just let Mr. Belling speak for himself.

"Without regard to what you think about women who get off by behaving like sows by pulling out their you-know-what in front of everybody else in the world and letting their babies start sucking, whatever you think about that, you don't have the express it so crudely, well why not? It's a crude practice, given how adamant some of these sows are, that's an appropriate term, isn't it? It's..it's what a pig does and it does it in public, right? I mean, I don't, I - hehehehe..."

And my mother wonders why I despise talk radio? Anti-woman rhetoric doesn't just hurt feminists; it hurts all women and, in this case, babies. Free speech is important but hateful ignorance only has power if there are people willingly listening and agreeing. This bozo wouldn't have a radio show if there weren't people out there who believed that breastfeeding women and babies are more like barnyard animals than human beings.

So Mr. Mark Belling, thanks for being our inaugural weekly wacko and...stay classy.

h/t to Feministing for the quote. You can listen to this lovely little vignette here.

Can I whine for a minute?

2009-03-10T16:33:00.002-07:00

I am still feeling burned out. Last week I really wanted to write on my blog every day but every time I went to go post, I felt a wave of immense tiredness wash over my body.

Things are really hard right now. My job is depressing and apparently I have compassion fatigue. It's no wonder when none of the women I work with can get jobs, no longer have access to subsidized childcare and have had their cash benefits cut by 30%. All of this means that none of these poor women and children will be able to be self-sufficient and obtain safe housing. It isn't fair. Also, mr.mraynes and the kids are sick. I am now feeling sick. The economy sucks, effectively limiting the job prospects of mr.mraynes. And there just doesn't seem to be an end in sight.

What's a feminist girl to do? (other than be incredibly grateful for a loving, supportive family, a secure job and a comfortable life)...Why, eat her body weight in carbs in a futile effort to self-soothe. Here is what I ate yesterday:

1 bowl of organic chocolate grahm cereal
1 doughnut
4 slices of bacon
1 brownie
2 large scoops of cheesy funeral potatos
1 bowl of chili
1 bag of fruit snacks
1 rice crispy treat
3 chocolate kisses
6 dinner rolls
1 New York strip steak
1 sweet potato w/ caramel sauce and marshmellows
1 ice cream sandwhich

When I gave tihs list to mr. mraynes, he looked at me with horror in his eyes and suggested that I not get on the bathroom scale anytime soon.

I'm still resolved to post more frequently but I'm thinking about lowering my standards of what is post-worthy. So, any tips in dealing with pre- spring, bad economy doldrums? Also, I am taking requests for post topics.

Mistress of History

2009-03-03T09:30:00.003-07:00

Over the past couple of weeks I have felt very little ambition to keep up on this blog. I think this is due to feeling a little burned out with life. I wrote the following post for Exponent and with it, I am re-committing to take charge of my life. So from now on, you can look forward to much more frequent posts at First Fig because if I don't document my thoughts and experiences, who will?

******************

I once had a boyfriend who told me that women have no history outside of their husbands and children. I was a young history major at the time and was only just discovering where my interests lay but his ignorant remark sparked in me a profound desire to prove him wrong. Needless to say, our relationship did not last much longer but I was left with a new found feminism and a love of women’s history.

Over the next couple of years I would study the lives of Hildegard Von Bingen, Martha Ballard, Alice Paul, Betty Friedan…all women who left a mark on history outside the framework of domesticity. Also around this time I received a copy of my grandfather’s memoir which included his version of the end of my grandparents’ marriage. As I read through this story of my grandfather’s life, I wondered how different my grandmother’s version of their divorce would be. She probably would not have painted herself in the light my grandfather had. Unfortunately, her story is lost to history and what remains of her life is only in the memories of her sons and ex-husband.

By the time I graduated from college, I knew the importance of women’s stories but I also understood that historically, women have had to go to greater lengths to get those stories heard. As an idealistic young feminist, I was determined to create my own history; husband and children might come but I would not allow them to define my life, let alone allow myself to be lost in their history.

What I did not understand as an idealistic young feminist was how easy it is for any woman, feminist or not, to fall into this trap. I fully admit that I have lost some of my resolve. None of us can write our history in advance and so as my life has failed to follow the course I imagined, it has become easy to define myself in terms of my husband and children. It is so easy to proudly talk about my husband, the orchestral conductor who is so smart and so talented.
It is a delight to revel in my beautiful Monster who dances and laughs in and out of my presence or Baby Valkyrie who thrives on my love and brightens my life with her smile. I have re-defined myself in the terms of my family because it is the one thing that I feel truly good at, that I am proud of. Yes, I have a life and a career outside of my home but those things are not as fulfilling as I imagined them to be.

I feel at times that my life is at a standstill, waiting for my husband to finish school and get a job, or for my babies to grow up a little or for me to go back and get my graduate degrees. Often I feel like I am just waiting for my real life to begin. I suppose that we all need times of limbo to help focus ourselves, to make the way forward more clear. But how sad if I allow myself to get stuck here.

And so in honor of Women’s History Month, and in honor of my fore mothers, I resolve once again to make my own history. But this time I make my resolution with a little less naivete, with the understanding that my husband and children are part of my history. Part of my history because I have given so much of myself to them and in return they have given themselves to me. And with this gift I realize that it is up to me to be the mistress of my own history.

Inauguration

2009-01-20T08:45:00.002-07:00

~ The Gift Outright ~

The land was ours before we were the land's.
She was our land more than a hundred years
Before we were her people.
She was ours
In Massachusetts, in Virginia.
But we were England's, still colonials,
Possessing what we still were unpossessed by,
Possessed by what we now no more possessed.
Something we were withholding made us weak.
Until we found out that it was ourselves
We were withholding from our land of living,
And forthwith found salvation in surrender.
Such as we were we gave ourselves outright
(The deed of gift was many deeds of war)
To the land vaguely realizing westward,
But still unstoried, artless, unenhanced,
Such as she was, such as she would become.

~ Robert Frost; 1874-1963 ~

The Woman Without a Shadow

2009-01-07T12:57:00.000-07:00

cross posted at The Exponent

mr. mraynes and I are opera geeks. I spent the first years of my college career training to be an opera singer; mr. mraynes has spent the majority of his doctoral program immersed in opera scores, learning how to conduct them. Where a lot of couples have a song taken from pop culture, our song was “Liebestod” from Tristan und Isolde. Every major moment in our relationship is connected to an aria or opera. Dating…Cosi Fan Tutte. Falling in love… “Liebestod” . Engagement…Turandot. Marriage… “Morgen” . Birth of Baby Monster… “Song to the Moon” . Birth of Baby Valkyrie…Brunhilde’s Immolation. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist sharing these moments with you.)

And so it should not have surprised me that the first thing mr. mraynes said to me after getting an IUD was, “Ahh, die frau ohne schatten,” meaning ”the woman without a shadow.” Now for those not familiar with the Strauss opera, Die Frau Ohne Schatten is a fairytale of love blessed through the birth of a child. As lovely as this sounds and despite the absolutely breathtaking music, this opera is a feminist’s nightmare. You see, a woman without a shadow is a woman who can’t have children…making her not a real woman and therefore, not human. Throw in a little domestic violence and the belief that women are chattel and you have three hours of anti-woman fun.

At the beginning of the opera we learn that the Emperor of the Southeastern Islands will be turned to stone unless is wife, the daughter of the King of spirits, becomes human and gains a shadow. Of course, it is hard to feel sorry for the Emperor when we learn that he captured the Empress and believes that she is “for my soul and for my eyes and for my hands and for my heart. She is the booty of all booty without end.” Despite being captured and married against her will, the Empress goes in search of a shadow so her husband won’t be petrified. The Empress and her nurse meet a human woman who resents her life as a domestic slave to her husband and doesn’t want to be a mother because she fears children will further enslave her. Long story short, the nurse convinces the woman to sell her shadow to the Empress. When the woman’s husband finds out, he threatens to kill her because without her shadow, without the ability to bear children, she is useless to him. Luckily for the wife, the Empress refuses the shadow, saying she will not save her husband at the expense of another man’s happiness. This act of self-sacrifice allows the Empress to gain her own shadow. The opera ends with the two couples united and fertile, singing the praises of their humanity.

As a feminist, there is so much in this opera that I find objectionable. I resent the belief that my only value as a woman lies in my ability to bear children. This belief can be found around the world in almost every culture. Historically, women have not been allowed to become fully actualized individuals, not allowed to explore the things that would bring them the most happiness. Instead women are forced into a lifestyle they wouldn’t necessarily choose. For women who can’t have children, there is the feeling of failure on top of the overwhelming sorrow that comes along with infertility. Women who are childless, whether by choice or not, are often seen as dangerous and are at increased risk for emotional and physical violence.
Of course, the pendulum can swing too far the other way as well. In cultures where maternity is glorified, female subordination often goes hand in hand. The idea of the angel in the home, while romantic, only serves to infantilize women and take away their ability to be agents unto themselves. A doll’s house existence is no existence.

Second wave feminists worked hard to give women like me the choice to become mothers and also follow our dreams of self-fulfillment. But socialization dies hard. When mr. mraynesreferred to my shadowless status, I felt guilty. I cried while the IUD was being implanted. Even now, when I think about that small piece of plastic floating around in my uterus I have to fight off the urge to reach inside and yank it out. I admit that I have felt like less of a woman knowing that my fertility is compromised. Intellectually I know this is ridiculous and I am ashamed of myself. I have no right to feel this way. I have two babies and though I have chosen to see them as the crowning achievement of my life, I don’t want my choice perverted by some outdated notion that my worth lies exclusively in the fruitfulness of my womb. Getting an IUD was absolutely the right thing to do; it was right for my marriage, for my children, for our current financial and life situation and for my own state of mind.

And yet…I am haunted by my shadow.

New Years's Resolution

2008-12-31T16:18:00.003-07:00

Here is what I will be working on during this new year:

Prairie Muffins are happy to be girls—they rejoice in the distinctives which God sovereignly bestowed on them which make them feminine. They are also happy that their husbands are masculine, and they do not diminish that masculinity by harping on habits which emanate from the fact that boys will be boys, even when they grow up. In addition, Prairie Muffins are careful not to use their feminine, hormotional weaknesses to excuse sinful attitudes and actions, but learn to depend more and more on God's grace and strength in the midst of any monthly trials.

I especially have to stop blaming all my weaknesses on being "hormotional." For those of you who are looking for New Year's resolutions, there are a whole wealth of them here. Enjoy.

Happy New Year!

A Snowflake in a Global Patriarchal Tradition

2008-12-28T09:10:00.002-07:00

cross posted at The Exponent

As a feminist, I have been encouraged by the Church's rhetoric on the equality of women and men, especially as it relates to marriage. I think that we can all agree that an increase in egalitarian language is a good thing and benefits both men and women. But language can only take us so far and I am truly afraid that the church's language on equal partnership is just empty rhetoric.

Since the 1970's, the Church has steadily become more progressive in its treatment of women...allowing women to speak in most meetings and giving them an increased presence in leadership councils. Church leaders also started promoting the idea of equal partnership in the home and then subsequently backed off draconian birth control restrictions and limits on women leaving the domestic sphere. But I have to wonder how much of this has been done out of political necessity; American women saw greater equality in mainstream society and so the church had to follow suit.

Before I go on, I want to say that I sincerely hope the church believes its own rhetoric and that it isn't a ploy to mollify us Western women. I want to believe that our leaders have been inspired by God to reach for equality because that is the kind of God I believe in. Perhaps I am, as my brother-in-law lovingly suggests, a "fringe" Mormon but even so, I love my religion just as much as any true-blue Mormon there ever was. I have stayed a Mormon because I believe that progress is slowly being made and I want to be among the snowflakes that finally break the branch of inequality in our religion. Mostly, I want to live the religion of my heart.

But recently I have felt my heart break because I am not sure that I can continue to believe in the slow progress. Yes, we have seen an increase in the language of egalitarianism but the Church's actions do not back it up. Until recently, most of us believed that the Church remained neutral in political matters, however Mormon activism to protect the traditional family around the world has been going on for at least a decade. Mormons have played a leading role in a global alliance of conservative Muslims and Christians who have joined together to defeat threats to their patriarchal tradition. Perhaps you have heard the now folkloric story of the BYU professor who attended a United Nations conference and gave a speech based on the Proclamation on the Family and changed the anti-traditional family course of the conference. Spurred on by this success, BYU created the World Family Policy Center, holding annual conferences for "pro-family" entities around the world. The Church also became involved with organizations such as United Families International (UTI) and the World Congress of Families (WCF). In fact, the Church is a major funder of the World Congress of Families and sent Bruce C. Hafen to speak at their conference in 2007. (As an aside, the WCF's screed on feminism and the family is the funniest thing you'll read all day).

It is the mission of these organizations to influence international policy in pro- traditional family and anti- gay marriage and abortion ways. I am not against protecting, supporting and promoting the family; generally I am pretty pro-family, as evidenced by my two children in three years, but families that do not guarantee an equally beneficial experience for all those involved should not be supported. These organizations have, unfortunately, targeted International treaties like the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW) which call on signatory countries to foster equality and make progress towards eliminating sexism in both national laws and cultural practices. CEDAW is basically the international bill of rights for women. As somebody who practically ate, drank and breathed CEDAW in college, I know the immense good this particular convention did for women around the world but also how ineffectual it could be because of the conservative factions of signatory countries that refused to follow all of the guidelines.

The executive director at BYU's World Family Policy Center told a reportert hat the United Nations conventions are an issue because they "appeared to be a pretty concerted effort to shape customary international law into, essentially, the Equal Rights Amendment." But is anyone else wondering if an Equal Rights Amendment for countries like Saudi Arabia and India would be such a bad thing? Would it be such a bad thing for female fetuses to be guaranteed the right to life or for little girls to go to school without acid being flung in their eyes? Is being able to escape an abusive marriage really a threat to the traditional family? The answer is, of course, yes; any gains made in the rights of women are a threat to patriarchal tradition. The question is now, does our church really want to follow this tradition?

It would seem that the lack of answers is really the answer. Of course our church leaders could change things if they wanted to. The preside language is incomprehensible and could be gotten rid of tomorrow without changing the majority of Mormon marriages. Likewise, the "hearken" covenant could be done away with without fundamentally changing the endowment. And yet neither is likely to happen; they are not likely to happen because their is no desire or impetus to change. Instead we have gotten into bed with facets of religion and culture that hold equal partnership between men and women in complete disregard. I am afraid that here, actions speak louder than words.

As for those of us on the fringe, all we can do is keep hanging out on that tree branch and hope that God sends an avalanche some day soon.

Family Blog

2008-12-22T21:27:00.002-07:00

So mr. mraynes decided that we needed a family blog. If you are interested, come and check us out.

http://www.sinfoniadomestica.blogspot.com/

A Short History of the Shadow

2008-11-26T21:23:00.003-07:00

Thanksgiving, dark of the moon.
Nothing down here in the underworld but vague shapes and black holes,
Heaven resplendent but virtual
Above me,
trees stripped and triple-wired like Irish harps.
Lights on Pantops and Free Bridge mirror the eastern sky.
Under the bridge is the river,
the red Rivanna.
Under the river’s redemption, it says in the book,
It says in the book,
Through water and fire the whole place becomes purified,
The visible by the visible, the hidden by what is hidden.
________

Each word, as someone once wrote, contains the universe.
The visible carries all the invisible on its back.
Tonight, in the unconditional, what moves in the long-limbed grasses,
what touches me
As though I didn’t exist?
What is it that keeps on moving,
a tiny pillar of smoke
Erect on its hind legs,
loose in the hollow grasses?
A word I don’t know yet, a little word, containing infinity,
Noiseless and unrepentant, in sift through the dry grass.
Under the tongue is the utterance.
Under the utterance is the fire, and then the only end of fire.
________

Only Dante, in Purgatory, casts a shadow,
L’ombra della carne, the shadow of flesh—
everyone else is one.
The darkness that flows from the world’s body, gloomy spot,
Pre-dogs our footsteps, and follows us,
diaphanous bodies
Watching the nouns circle, and watching the verbs circle,
Till one of them enters the left ear and becomes a shadow
Itself, sweet word in the unwaxed ear.
This is a short history of the shadow, one part of us that’s real.
This is the way the world looks
In late November,
no leaves on the trees, no ledge to foil the lightfall.
________

No ledge in early December either, and no ice,
La Niña unhosing the heat pump
up from the Gulf,
Orange Crush sunset over the Blue Ridge,
No shadow from anything as evening gathers its objects
And eases into earshot.
Under the influx the outtake,
Leon Battista Alberti says,
Some lights are from stars, some from the sun
And moon, and other lights are from fires.
The light from the stars makes the shadow equal to the body.
Light from fire makes it greater,
there, under the tongue, there, under the utterance.

~Charles Wright

Reasons why I love mr. mraynes

2008-11-18T22:20:00.002-07:00

(In no particular order or importance)

He lets me call him mr. mraynes.
He never complains that I legally changed my name to his name but continue to use my maiden name for just about everything.
He likes my nose, even though he agrees that Adam Banghert had a point when he called me "butt nose" in the 7th grade.
He loves babies. I cringe a little each time he pinches Baby Valkyrie's cheeks, sticks his finger in her mouth to feel her gums or kisses her to the point where she can't breathe and starts crying, but I think his love for babies is really cute.
He doesn't believe in gender roles.
He loves to snuggle and likes it best when I snuggle into his bum.
He is single-minded and incredibly persistent.
His sperm makes really cute babies.
He supports me in all of my pursuits...except for the art projects I do with Baby Monster, he hates those.
He lets me rail against "the patriarchy" and never gets offended.
He tells me he loves me at least 50 times a day.
He makes me think.
He puts up with my neuroses.
He makes me feel warm inside.
He has allowed me to love more fully and deeply than I ever knew was possible.

I love you, darling. Happy Anniversary.

America

2008-11-04T11:53:00.003-07:00

Centre of equal daughters, equal sons,
All, all alike endear'd, grown, ungrown, young or old,
Strong, ample, fair, enduring, capable, rich,
Perennial with the Earth, with Freedom, Law and Love,
A grand, sane, towering, seated Mother,
Chair'd in the adamant of Time.

~Walt Whitman

The Grand Tapestry

2008-11-02T23:47:00.005-07:00

This is the sacrament talk I gave in my ward two weeks ago. I quoted from Chieko Okazaki, Joan Chittister's Called to Question and Valerie Hudson's Women in Eternity, Women in Zion but because I wrote it as a sermon, I did not include citations. I hope you enjoy it.

A wise woman once said that “vision is the ability to realize that the truth is always larger than the partial present.” It is easy to become enmeshed in the partial present, to be so concerned with our daily existence, that we forget that our lives serve a greater purpose and is part of a grander whole. Indeed, it is hubris to believe that we live our lives purely for our own sake, for we are all interconnected in the great plan of God. This plan connects us with every other spirit and intelligence in the universe. It connects us with God and makes the atonement of Jesus Christ operational on our behalf.

The plan of salvation is like a grand tapestry. Each of us is a small thread in this tapestry; intersecting, connecting, separating and intersecting again. Moving from color to color, dark to light. We may not know what contribution our small thread makes to the great tapestry. We may not understand the pattern that our lives make, but God does. It is God’s plan that incorporates and connects us all. It is that plan that will bring us eternal happiness.

As Moses 1:39 tells us, God’s purpose is to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man. No matter the time period and regardless of the culture into which a spirit is born, every life is infinitely precious because God’s purpose extends to every individual. In the pre-mortal existence, our intelligences were organized into individual spirits and we became the children of our Heavenly Father and Heavenly Mother. In our primeval childhood, we were nurtured by the side of God. We grew and developed and desired to progress further. We desired the opportunity to discern good from evil; to prove to our Heavenly Parents our ability to become like them and live as exalted beings in their presence forever.

And so, in their great love, they came up with a plan that would insure our happiness and immortality. Each spirit child would have to leave the presence of God for a time. In order to fully prove ourselves, it would be necessary to withhold the recollection of our former friends and birth. As we sojourned through mortality, we would make choices based on our discernment of good and evil. Our Heavenly Parents knew the mortal weakness each of us would suffer, and so in their mercy, they provided us with a Savior. Because he first loved us, he desired to be the propitiation for the sins we would inevitably commit. Our older brother would be the door through which, if we entered, we would be saved.

We are told that at hearing this plan, the hosts of heaven rejoiced. Two-thirds of God’s children happily chose this plan. All of us are here in mortality because we chose the plan. Everybody who has ever been born, or ever will be born, chose God’s plan of happiness. This fact should be a source of great hope and confidence to us. We all trusted God. We all loved the Savior. We were willing to take the frightening risks of mortality because we desired to be like them. We assumed the burden of freedom because we loved Christ so much. And he assumed the burden of being our Savior because he loved us so much. Before we were born, then, we had become part of a web of love, part of the grand tapestry that is the plan of salvation.

The tapestry begins with the creation of the Earth. In order for the plan to commence, a place for mortal existence had to be created. As Moses 1:4 tells us: “And the Lord said: Let us go down. And they went down at the beginning, and they, that is the Gods, organized and formed the heavens and the earth.” A great Mormon poetess beautifully captures the primordial event in her “Song of Creation”:

Who made the world, my child?
Father made the rain
silver and forever
Mother’s hand
drew riverbeds and hollowed seas,
drew riverbeds and hollowed seas
to bring the rain home

Father bridled winds, my child,
to keep the world new.
Mother clashed
fire free from stones
and breathed it strong and dancing,
and breathed it strong and dancing
the color of her hair.

He armed the thunderclouds
rolled out of heaven;
Her fingers flickered
hummingbirds
weaving the delicate white snow,
weaving the delicate white snow
a waterfall of flowers

And if you live long, my child
you’ll see snow burst
from thunderclouds
and lightning in the snow;
listen to Mother and Father laughing,
listen to Mother and Father laughing
behind the locked door.

~Linda Sillitoe

The first chapter of Moses tells us how the gods created the world; first organizing matter to create the bedrock that would form the hills everlasting. Then the gods divided darkness from light, creating the satellites of the sun, moon and stars in the heavens. The gods formed seas and fountains and then decorated the new earth with flower, fish, bush and beast. But their crowning achievement came in the creation of humankind; a man and a woman, fashioned in their own image.

Adam and Eve were the first to come to this earth, though the Garden of Eden was a transitional and paradoxical existence. They had the veil drawn over their eyes and yet, they walked and talked with god. Adam and Eve lived in a state of innocence; they could not sin, they could not die but they also could not progress. They were given two commandments; the first was not to partake of the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, the second was to multiply and replenish the earth. But they were given the gift of choice, the first gift of heaven, to choose whether or not they would keep the commandments of God. This is where the beauty of God’s plan was manifest for it is not in God’s nature to expel his children from his presence. And so he designed a plan that would allow Adam and Eve the ability to choose for themselves whether they would progress or remain in a state of innocence.

As we all know, Adam and Eve fell that men might be. Throughout the ages, our first parents have been criticized for breaking the commandment of God. But the restored knowledge of the plan of salvation has given us the vision and understanding to know that their transgression was essential to the progression of all men and women.

Though underestimated and vilified throughout history, Eve understood the greater vision of God: that man must be that they might have joy. Her statement in Moses 5:11 is perhaps the most doctrinally profound in all of scripture. “And Eve…heard all these things and was glad, saying: Were it not for our transgression we never should have had seed, and never should have known good and evil, and the joy of our redemption, and the eternal life which God giveth unto all the obedient.” Eve knew that it was the perpetuation of life, the continuation of the plan of salvation that would bring true happiness not only to herself, but to all her children. And so Eve became the first agent of light, providing the way for God’s children to receive bodies and progress to immortality.

All members of the human race must enter mortality through birth. Those of us who accepted the plan were permitted to pass through the veil that shrouds mortal life. We know women play an important role in the passage through the veil; they escort every soul through the veil, even the soul of the Savior of mankind. In a sense, they serve as the gatekeepers to our mortal world. Presiding over those who pass through the first veil, they clothe each traveler with a physical body and introduce them into mortality and agency through personal suffering and sacrifice.

This is something that I have had occasion to think a lot about recently. My own experience with the birth of my two children has been sacred and I have reflected often on the power there is in bringing life into the world. There is a point during labor where one leaves the mortal realm and is caught between life and death; it is in this sacred realm that the veil is at its thinnest. As I labored with my beloved children, I could feel a godly presence, not only sustaining me through the pain but entrusting me with the lives of two precious children, charging me to nurture them and bring them back to light.

As latter-day saints, we have been given the vision to understand that it is our families that unite and exalt us. When a man and a woman marry, they are committing to life, to love, and the perpetuation of life and love. Their mutual love for each other, unites them in a sacred cause, the perpetuation of love and life in their posterity. Both men and woman are creators of new life. Both have an obligation to nurture that life. Men help in the nurturing and loving of new life, just as women do. Parents have the responsibility to teach those to whom they give life, that there is light and love in this world, and to seek it. In this way, young souls are prepared to recognize and be receptive to the fullness of the Word of God. Women and men jointly teach their children goodness so that they might return to the presence of God.

It is, of course, up to us children to follow the light that our parents have introduced us to. Mortality is designed as part of the gospel plan to bring us mingled experiences with good and evil; that we may learn from experience to make wise choices. And many of these experiences are painful because we fail. We know ourselves to be weak. We stumble along, being less than we can be, never living up to our own standards, let alone anyone else’s. We try to obey the laws of God. The more our actions are in accordance with those laws, the more blessed and God-like we will be. If we choose, if we even desire to choose, if we even hope for the desire to choose, we set in motion the powerful forces for life that are led by Jesus Christ himself. He responds to those tender tendrils of crippled life with the force and energy that will bring them to flowering. Listen to these promises of love and yearning desire for us. Feel the hope they bring that with Him we can overcome the world. “[I] am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly. I am the good shepherd: the good shepherd giveth his life for [his] sheep.”

A true vision of the plan, one that does not see the tapestry as a single finished point, gives us the right to grow, to progress. It implies not only a God who made us, but a God who is with us, in us, and in everything around us. Whoever we are, whatever we are, this God knows us, understands us, walks with us to the melting point where what we are and what God is become one.

We are God’s children and God knows our greatest potential is to live as He does. We know why we are here. We have been given a vision of the great tapestry, the plan of salvation, through the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. We may not know what contribution our small thread makes to that tapestry. We may never know how far the effects of our service will reach. By our good works we magnify what is mighty in us all, one step at a time, one day at a time. We can never afford to be cruel or indifferent or ungenerous, because we are all connected, even if it is in a pattern that only God sees. We are all part of the pattern; black, white, brown, male or female. We are all connected in the merciful plan of our Heavenly Parents and our Savior, Jesus Christ.

May we all have the vision to know the full truth of this plan.

A Lullaby in the New Year

2008-10-22T13:07:00.002-07:00

One week is not too soon to learn a very
early language; for your spine to be aware
that a rocking chair means comfort and your wary
nerves want sleep. Nothing will disappear,
forsaking you to vast, fluorescent air
your fists and feet can't pummel. You shudder
at my kiss, a random bother in your hair.
I tell you this, my loud and little daughter,
you have now all there is: familiar dark,
a blanket's wings without, warm milk within,
balanced with your head in my hand's cup
in a second cradle of flesh and sound. We rock
and still you rage. I kiss your hair again.
All right, I whisper, accept, accept and sleep.

~Linda Sillitoe

The Price I Ask

2008-10-16T11:23:00.002-07:00

There are very few things in this world that I feel more passionately about than pregnancy and childbirth. My own experience with both have been so emotive, terrifying, joyous and overwhelming; rarely have I felt more powerful and vulnerable than when I am pregnant or giving birth. These have been transcendent experiences for me. I am a better person for going through the indignities of being pregnant and giving life to two beautiful children. I am a better person because pregnancy and birth require sacrifice.

Obviously the sacrifice of the physical body is necessary when pregnant. A woman has no choice but to share food and nutrients with the growing child. Often times that foetus acts like a parasite, leeching calcium from your bones and, in my case, stealing the hormone that makes my body run normally. As that baby grows, you helplessly watch your body contort and balloon into a shape that is so unrecognizable that you cannot help but question whether it is your reflection you see in the mirror. Then, of course, there are the hormones. The hormones that make it difficult to string together a coherent sentence. The hormones that create bone-deep weariness. The hormones that make you question the intentions of every one around you, including those who love you the most.

But perhaps it is the smallest indignities that hurt the most. Like not being able to tie your shoes or the constant heartburn. Like having to say no to the piece of chocolate cake you want so badly because of the gestational diabetes that make your babies gigantic. Like not being able to get out of bed without assistance or having your back ache so badly that it brings tears to your eyes. Like being unable able to pick up your oldest child and hold him close to you. Like foregoing sex with the father of your children and the man you love more than anything because you are so big that he can't get within arm's length of you.

This doesn't even take into account what happens during birth. Nobody tells you about the doctors that treat you like a mentally challenged child. You are legs are forced back to your ears, exposing your most vulnerable parts to the cold air and the stares of anybody who passes by. Nobody talks about the blood and the shit, the fluid that comes erupting from you like Vesuvius. You don't know desperation until you have felt the crowning of your baby's head ripping apart your most delicate tissue. And then when it's all over there is the stab in the leg, the pushing, the stitching and the weeks of bleeding to look forward to. And I will do it all again.

I will do it again because the sacrifice is worth it. It is worth it to me to bring children into the world who will know what true love is. I sacrifice my body, my mind, my dignity, my free will so that a few spirits will know light and truth. It is a sacrifice I freely give to my children, my husband and my heavenly parents. It is not a sacrifice, however, that I give freely to world. The price I ask for re-populating our society with decent citizens is for the society that I willingly contribute my time, money and resources to respect the sacrifice I make.

I have a few dreams in which this respect could take form: free maternity health care, paid maternity leave, and I'm talking French style 3 year paid maternity leave, flex time, affordable daycare. But today, I'll settle on just one...Respect my life.

I took it for granted that most Americans, most politicians, even the Mormon church agreed that the life of a pregnant mother is of value and should be protected at all costs, even if that cost comes at the expense of the child she is carrying. I am hopeful that this is the case but it scares me that a man who could be elected president of the United States could on national television say that exceptions for a woman's "health", are an extreme pro-abortion position. As a childbearing woman, to have concerns about my health so openly and condescendingly sneered at, was beyond horrifying.

So to John McCain and all those who believe like him, I have this to say:

My life is of value. My health is of value. This is personal to me. I am not part of an extreme pro-abortion conspiracy to murder all the unborn children that take up residence in my womb. I am a wife and a mother. A woman who cares for society's outcasts and comforts the abused. I am a woman who has served my country bravely, just like you have, sir. I have walked through the valley of the shadow of death twice to bring children into this world. Children who will love their country and protect her freedoms. Children who will be part of the next generation of American goodness. We have both sacrificed for our country, sir and though you may not believe it, our sacrifices are equal. Just like the value of our lives are equal. I respect the sacrifice you made for this country. And now I ask the same respect from you.

A Tale of Two Births

2008-10-06T16:42:00.002-07:00

Cross posted at Exponent II

I just gave birth to my second child and it was an experience entirely different than the one I had previously or what I expected. I suppose the mechanics were the same, I gave birth vaginally without the use of anesthetics and yet it seemed to me that I lost something indescribable in the second birth and I am mourning that loss. You see, I am one of those women who believes that there is real power in the birth process; that there is something other worldly and divine in trying to give life to another being. In my first meeting with the midwife who would deliver my son, she asked why I wanted to birth outside the mainstream medical model for my first pregnancy. I had several good answers for this including a skepticism of male dominated, Western medicine and a fascination with the history and marginalization of midwifery. But my desire for a "natural" birth went further than this to something I couldn't quite articulate. I wanted to connect with women throughout the past and present, to touch the divine within myself and to know the power of creation. Something within me knew that I could best achieve this as I labored to give life to my child.

I have given birth twice in the past year and a half; both births were wonderful experiences where I was, at least briefly, able to obtain the above desire. But the births were dramatically affected by my choice in medical providers. I believe that labor and birth are inherently feminist issues because of the choice, or lack of choice, that the experience provides laboring women. Indeed, the increase in knowledge and choices for pregnant women was one of the earliest successes of the women's movement. There was a huge paradigm shift during the 1970's and 80's that rejected the old model of restraining and knocking women out, effectively making them passive participants in the birth of their children. Instead, women demanded a greater role in the birthing process and wanted some choice in what happened to their bodies.

As a woman in her childbearing years, I am grateful for the increased choice I have when it comes to my maternity care. What I didn't understand before giving birth though, was the impact these choices had on the experience I wanted for myself and my child. So as a public service (I promise I'm not trying to navel gaze here, although I won't stop you from commenting on how brave, strong and skinny I am), I thought I would share my birth experiences. Please take them for what they are, my experience. What worked best for me will not be best for all women.

I have never felt more powerful than when I gave birth to my son, Baby Monster. I chose to deliver outside of a hospital at a free standing birth center in the Phoenix area. I had a midwife and a nurse who gently guided me through my twenty-one hour labor with a variety of techniques used by midwives for centuries. I felt a powerful connection with the women assisting me and to my foremothers who had birthed me and all humankind. As I transitioned to the last stage of labor, I entered into a dream-like place somewhere between mortality and death. At that moment I connected with the divine, a connection that supported me through the three hours of pushing it took to give life to my son. When it was all over, I not only had a beautiful baby but the knowledge that I had converged with something greater than myself.

When I got pregnant again, I was devastated to learn that my birth center had closed due to the sky-rocketing insurance rates midwives are charged. A homebirth was not something I felt comfortable with so I turned to the OB/Gyn that I had gone to for my annual pap smear. I had picked him because he was the first OB in my HMO directory to have an open appointment. I figured that since I already given birth, I could be assertive enough to stand up for the kind of birth I wanted. Unfortunately, I felt that there was always a power struggle between me and my doctor as to who controlled my pregnancy, birth and body. Due to gestational diabetes, early in my pregnancy the doctor informed me that he would induce my labor if he felt the baby was too big. Baby Monster had been ten pounds so I was not afraid to have a large baby but I stuck to a low-carb diet so as to prevent a medical induction. Despite my best efforts, when it came time for the ultrasound to determine the baby's size, she was big and so the doctor scheduled my induction without my input or consent.

In an effort to regain some control, I induced myself using my trusty breast pump the evening before the scheduled induction. This labor was much more solitary than the first; I labored mostly alone with my husband and mother-in-law asleep nearby. My labor was short and intense, almost primal. I listened to Stravinsky's Rite of Spring and Wagner's Immolation of Brunhilde as I worked through each surge. Once again I entered that dreamland and felt the power of creation. I felt myself transition into the last stage of labor and knew I had to get to the hospital quickly. At this point I lost my connection with the dreamland and was never fully able to regain it. It seemed as I went through the process of registering and being checked, I stood at the doorway of that sacred place, looking in but not entering. The triage nurse panicked when she realized I was dilated to a nine and was about to have a baby. The doctor arrived just in time to demand I be given an IV, which of course didn't take on either arm but effectively kept me from re-entering the dreamland of labor. Ten minutes later, Baby Valkyrie was born.

I am grateful to have had both experiences because of what I learnt from each one. Most importantly, I am grateful for the healthy baby at the end. Both the alternative and traditional experiences had their upside and downside. For example, my midwife was so easy going that she forgot to give me the gestational diabetes test which probably led to the size of my son and made the labor harder both on me and the Baby Monster. My OB/Gyn was very attentive to detail and I had an easier pregnancy and labor because of it. Assuming there are no complications, there is not a right way or a wrong way to birth as long as the woman is comfortable with the choices she is making. This is where I went wrong; I was never fully comfortable with the traditional medical model of birthing. I lost so much power in trying to fight my doctor that I was unable to regain it when I most needed it. So I guess my advice is, know what you want and then be true to that desire.

What Mary Kay Women Know

2008-08-12T10:28:00.000-07:00

I sat through a two hour Mary Kay sales pitch a couple of Saturdays ago. This is not my usual choice of weekend activities but I was cajoled into going under false pretenses. You see, I have been living in the wonderful world of bridedom this summer. My younger sister got married three weeks ago and I had forgotten just how exploited this particular population is. (Watch this video, I promise it will make your day). My sister "won" a free pampering session for ten people through one of those horrible bridal registries and invited me and our younger sister to go get a free facial and massage. Despite all of my feminist rantings about the superficiality of the beauty industry, I am not one to turn down a massage, especially at eight-months pregnant. So Saturday found me kissing my husband and baby monster goodbye and happily skipping away to join my sisters for a morning of pampering and relaxation.

I'm not sure what tipped us off first, maybe it was the "Think Pink" slogans plastered on the walls or the huge bouquets of frothy, pink tissue paper flowers that decorated the entire room but we quickly figured out that we had walked straight into a pink-colored Mary Kay trap. There was no facial or massage to look forward to, just a two hour presentation on the joys of being a Mary Kay consultant. (In the interest of full disclosure, I did have the "opportunity" to exfoliate half of my face with the dollop of microderm abrasion cream they gave me and massage some night time lotion into my hand so I guess Mary Kay played us fair.)

As I sat there listening about the wonders of pink Cadillacs and the free, over-sized gold jewelry, I couldn't help but compare the Mary Kay culture with the culture of women in the Mormon church. Of course there were the obvious comparison like the tacky floral arrangements and centerpieces, the be-ribboned favors and the smell of synthetic sugar and spice that hits you right in the face. But the deeper similarities went to the language used and the assumptions of what an ideal woman is. I swear the keynote speaker gave the Mary Kay version of President Julie Beck's "Mothers Who Know" speech. I took some notes and thought that I'd share them here.

Mary Kay women understand how important things like food, free stuff and fun activities are.
Mary Kay women know that appearences are important and always take time to look presentable.
Mary Kay women understand that their priorities have always been God first, family second and career third.
Mary Kay women know that if they have their priorities straight, they will be rewarded with beautiful homes, nice cars, expensive jewelry and good kids.
Mary Kay women understand that because they know their priorites, other women's children (read working women's children) will call them mom and other women will be jealous of the magical life Mary Kay women lead.

Before some of you get too offended and start cursing my name, I deeply respect the mission of Mary Kay to help women have a career and feel good about themselves. I believe that all women want to belong to a group and have their choices validated. I was amazed when the Mary Kay consultants talked about how they appreciated their organizations focus on helping women achieve their priorites and become their best selves. These women became emotional when talking about the wonderful women they met through their work and how they would drop everything to help a sister consultant. I hear this same sentiment expressed every week in my Relief Society, and yet there are thousands of women who hate Relief Society and find being a Mormon woman exquisitely painful.

Mary Kay and the Relief Society are not that fundamentally different; both organizations exist to create a space for women in male-dominated institutions. So why is it that one group has a much higher satisfaction rate than the other? I believe the difference lies in choices. If I choose to be a Mary Kay consultant, I am choosing the culture of Mary Kay. If I don't like pink cadillacs, flashy jewelry and talking about make-up then I can choose a different career. Mary Kay women know that their choices will be supported because they have surrounded themselves with women who have made similar choices.

The same is not necessarily true for Mormon women; I may choose to be a faithful member of the church but I may not want to choose the culture of the Mormon church. I may not want to hear the overblown rhetoric about motherhood but if I want to go to my church meetings and interact with my fellow latter-day saints, then there is really no escaping it. This can be an incredibly isolating place for a woman to be and it behooves us as sisters and Christians to be sympathetic of that.

The controversy over President Beck's "Mothers Who Know" talk is the perfect example of this. Many women, both liberal and conservative, were hurt by this talk, not because they necessarily disagreed with Julie Beck's actual words but were pained by the implication of what those words meant to them. The latest "firestorm" at the Sunstone Symposium only proves further how deep the wounds are and how many have been wounded. The uproar that has ensued over the past ten months has left many scratching their heads and wondering why this talk? How is it any different from what has been said over the past thirty years?

Might I suggest that it is because the rhetoric of ideal womanhood and motherhood is no longer effective in a worldwide and rapidly progressing church. From what I understand, women outside of the United States don't get what all the fuss is about because they found the talk benign at best, irrelevant at worst. American women, however, have spent years fighting the Mommy Wars. The frontlines have been populated by members of traditional churches such as the Mormon church and women have been their best warriors. Both sides have exploited their women until there was nothing left to battle over and an uneasy cease-fire was called.

For Mormon women, that cease-fire was broken by President Beck. But instead of turning their ammuntion on the enemy, women turned their guilt and self-doubt on themselves. How many stories have we read of faithful women breaking out into tears because their deepest and most vulnerable fears were confirmed by the very woman who was supposed to be representing them? In the pain and anguish, some women have lashed out indiscriminately at women who should be their sisters and allies in the hope of validating their choices to a God who apparently sees nothing but their success as a mother.

A new war of ideas is needed, one that will ensure the unity of Mormon women. So this is my battle cry, the one that I hope provides me with an organization that I can fully choose:
It is time that church leaders and lay members alike retire the old motherhood rhetoric and refocus our efforts on what will make us all better children of God...becoming disciples of Jesus Christ. No one--no one--is excluded from the call of Jesus to "Come follow me." Not the working mother or the over-run stay at home mom. Jesus asks all of us, whether we are single or married, uneducated or educated, feminist or not, to be his disciples. He wants us to serve the poor and disenfranchised, to stand up against injustice in the world and demand that someone pay attention. We must love as God loves or we cannot call ourselves true disciples of Christ. That means we cannot judge other women on their mothering choices and expect to hit the mark of becoming perfect, even as our Savior is perfect. When we as individuals and a combined church focus on true discipleship--for all women and men--rather than perfectly-ironed white shirts and missionary haircuts, then we can claim the privelege of building up the Church of Christ and the Kingdom of God.

House of Dead Dogs: A Comedy

2008-07-07T15:35:00.004-07:00

Scene: A mother nervously approaches a strange house where she will be dropping her Baby Monster off for a few hours while she and her husband attend a wedding. The mother nervously rings the doorbell and waits. A slightly frazzled looking woman answers the door and ushers the mother and the Baby Monster into her home. Trying to ease the awkwardness, the mother introduces herself and the Baby Monster, thanks the woman for watching her child and assures the woman that the Baby Monster is the sweetest baby that ever walked the earth. At this point, the Baby Monster yelps with delight and runs into the living room. The mother follows behind to see what he is so excited about and notices the rear end of a dog sticking out from underneath a sheet. Baby Monster is jumping up and down and pointing to the dog.

Mother: Oh look, Baby Monster, it's a puppy! You love puppies!

Baby Monster: Dawk! Dawk! (More jumping and pointing).

Mother: I know, you love dogs!

Frazzled-Looking Woman: Yeah, the dog is dead.

Stunned silence. A teary, fourteen year old girl removes the sheet to reveal a stiff dog, spread-eagle on the floor. More stunned silence.

Mother: I am...so...sorry.

Frazzled-Looking Woman: Yes, she died in the middle of the night. We're not quite sure what to do with her.

Baby Monster runs over and hits the dog which, to his credit, is his way of petting animals but is, nevertheless, incredibly inappropriate for the situation. The mother ushers her Baby Monster to the other side of the room. Mother wonders what the proper etiquette is in this situation and whether she should leave her baby at a home where they allow dead dogs to lay on the living room floor for hours at a time.

Mother: Well, I should be back around 3:00 to pick Baby Monster up. Mother mumbles something about being sorry again. Um...Ok...I guess I'll see you later. Um...Bye.

End of Scene

Night Dances For My Daughter

2008-06-19T11:32:00.002-07:00

I haven't wanted to keep up with my blog recently. It is too hot outside to think clearly and it's all I can do to keep my head from exploding because of my pregnancy hormones. So I have decided that instead of letting my blog die, I will post poems or songs that have some meaning in my life.

Today I have been thinking about The Night Dances by Sylvia Plath. Maybe it's cliche to like Sylvia Plath and be a feminist but I really do love her poetry. I love all of her work, not just her most famous feminist poems Daddy and Lady Lazurus.

Anyway, I have been thinking about Night Dances because this poem paints the way I imagine my daughter to be. As I feel her leap and spiral in my uterus, I hope that she will be like a comet, lighting up the dark world around her.

The Night Dances

A smile fell in the grass.
Irretrievable!

And how will your night dances
Lose themselves. In mathematics?

Such pure leaps and spirals ----
Surely they travel

The world forever, I shall not entirely
Sit emptied of beauties, the gift

Of your small breath, the drenched grass
Smell of your sleeps, lilies, lilies.

Their flesh bears no relation.
Cold folds of ego, the calla,

and the tiger, embellishing itself ----
Spots, and a spread of hot petals.

The comets
Have such a space to cross,

Such coldness, forgetfulness.
So your gestures flake off ----

Warm and human, then their pink light
Bleeding and peeling

Through the black amnesias of heaven.
Why am I given

These lamps, these planets
Falling like blessings, like flakes

Six sided, white
On my eyes, my lips, my hair

Touching and melting.
Nowhere.

How a Feminist Falls in Love

2008-04-30T22:08:00.003-07:00

I have been asked on more than one occasion how I managed to fall in love. I think when people ask this question, they’re not so much making a statement on my personality qualities but rather my general cynicism towards patriarchal institutions such as marriage. I think it is a fair question so I thought I would share the moment my feminist self fell in love.

I was a full blown feminist well before I met my husband. I had plans of going to Oxford, studying women’s history and becoming a brilliant academic. Falling in love was not in my life plan. I won’t bore you with the nitty-gritty details of our courtship; it involves a lot of flakiness on my part, a hero’s share of patience by DH and the poetry of Edna St. Vincent Millay. Suffice it to say, I knew by the second date that DH was perfect and I spent the next five months trying unsuccessfully to get rid of him.

An effective tactic that I often used to scare away BYU boys was going on frequent feminist rants. It was always amazing to me that as soon as I started talking about equality and how Jesus was a feminist the conversation/date/relationship was over.

I tried doing this to DH but he agreed with me and found my thoughts refreshing. When my soft feminism didn’t work, I pulled out my pro-choice, socialist, anti-patriarchy stump speeches hoping that would do the trick but DH only found me more fascinating and invigorating.

In May of 2005, we went to go see three one act plays about Mormon women performed at BYU. During the intermission I was flipping through the program and noticed an advertisement for one of the local jewelry stores in the Provo area. It was your typical engagement ring ad, a flaxen haired beauty with a dreamy look in her eyes bathed in warm light. What got me was the caption, “Show her how much you really love her.” Of course, the only way to show the girl of your dreams that you really love her is to buy a 3 ct. princess cut diamond ring.

This presented the perfect opportunity for me to make some comments about the materialistic nature of the marriage market which, of course, morphed into a tirade about the misogynistic symbolism of heterosexual marriage. It went something like this:

“The engagement ring is the western world’s answer to a bride price. It symbolically says that a man has paid a price for a woman and that she now belongs to him. The ring is a symbol of ownership and objectification that women wear to proclaim that they belong to somebody. With that ring, a man has bought a woman’s body, her sexuality, reproduction and domestic labor. It is blood money that requires women to give up their individuality and become domestic and sexual servants.”

Without missing a beat, DH looked at me and said, “Oh M*, that is ridiculous!”

Usually DH would nod in agreement or ignore my more militant feminist snipes but this time he proceeded to give me his perfectly reasonable and romantic view of the engagement ring, something he saw as a gift of love, freely given.

I was delighted by his response; not because I necessarily agreed with him but because he hadn’t let me walk all over him. I had had other boyfriends who always acquiesced to my opinions or, even worse, thought that my opinions weren’t worth having a conversation about. I didn’t want to be in a relationship where I was placed on a pedestal for my intellect or divine womanhood. Likewise, I didn’t want to be with a man who thought my ideas were silly and not worth responding to. I knew that with DH, we might not always agree but he respected me enough as a person to engage with me as an equal.

When I look back at our courtship, I always pinpoint this moment as the one that made me fall in love. I was looking for a man that I could be equals with; three years later, I know I made the right choice.

As for engagement rings, I still think that they are a type of bride price but my opinion has moderated somewhat. Did I get an engagement ring when the time came? Yep...but it was also my wedding band which is a symbol I can totally get behind.

Outing at a Book Club

2008-04-11T16:26:00.001-07:00

I went to the Relief Society’s book club last night. We just moved into my parent’s ward so my mother has been strongly encouraging me to participate in ward activities. I have been to the last two Enrichment activities and a ward social…I almost don’t recognize myself, this is so unlike me.

Last night was the first meeting of the book club in over a year so instead of discussing a book, there was a discussion on how this book club was going to be different. Now you might ask how a book club could be different, don’t you just read a book and then discuss it? Typically yes, but because the last book club had discussed some books with naughty words and a few sex scenes, the bishop now has to approve our choice of books. Yes, you did read that right, the bishop will be approving the book before we are allowed to read it.

I’m poking fun but this doesn’t really bother me. If the bishop’s stamp of approval helps some women feel better about reading I guess that’s a good thing. Plus, I can still read whatever I want (Playboy magazine articles here I come!)

After we discussed several books that might be interesting, the conversation divulged into pleasant chitter-chatter about various topics. One woman mentioned that she blogged which caught my interest. We had a brief conversation about blogging at which point my mother decided it was the perfect moment to out me as a feminist.

I am not ashamed of being a feminist, I love being a feminist! My heart and soul are devoted to making the world a better place for women and children. I wouldn’t leave my baby every day if I didn’t deeply believe that I could fight a tiny bit of injustice to make women’s lives a little easier. I hold my feminism high.

But I have to say that I was taken aback by my outing. I don’t usually talk about my feminism or political beliefs with church members, I find it too painful. I have had so many hateful words thrown at me, questioning my intellect, reason and relationship with God. I have become wary of what I say and who I say it to.

Most the women were apathetic to the news that I was a feminist mostly because it’s fairly obvious, I never try to hide who I am. There were some comments that showed a misunderstanding of feminism and feminists but hopefully I can help to clear up some of the misperceptions that are out there. Some of the women even wanted my blog address. If you’re one of my book club sisters, welcome to my blog! Feel free to look around and please, ask me questions, I think we can have a good dialogue even if we don’t always agree.

The Solemn Assembly and Gender Equality

2008-04-07T11:19:00.002-07:00

There are a couple of things that I want to discuss in the near future but before I get to those things I want to share my reaction to General Conference. Overall I thought it was fairly innocuous, not much to get excited or worked up over. The thing that stood out the most for me was the Solemn Assembly.

The last time there was a Solemn Assembly, I was eleven almost twelve years old. I remember feeling a little bitter that I only got to stand up with the general membership when I was so close to being a Young Woman (my birthday is toward the end of April). Even then, I felt there was something unfair about the hierarchy that the Solemn Assembly promoted.

I felt a little silly this time around because we were just in our living room; if my parents hadn’t been there, I probably would have remained seated and raised my hand to the square. Nevertheless, we all participated in the ceremony. My father and husband stood with the High Priests and Elders Quorum. My mother and I stood with the Relief Society, then all of us joined with the general membership of the church to sustain President Thomas S. Monson. And once again I felt bitter.

I felt bitter because my vote mattered less than a twelve year old boy’s. My family tried to assure me that this was not true, that each vote was equal. Trust me, I know that is how I’m supposed to feel. I’ve heard it before…preside doesn’t really mean preside, it means benevolent servant leader. But it doesn’t work! Preside will always mean preside and hierarchy is never conducive to equality.

We talk in this church how women and men are equal in the sight of God, that motherhood is the equivalent to priesthood. If that is really true, then we need to start backing our words up with action. Why can’t the Relief Society stand after the Melchizedek Priesthood if they are truly equal? Is the order of the Solemn Assembly based in scripture or is it just tradition? I would argue that if the standing order of the Solemn Assembly is only tradition, this is one small area that could be changed so we could prove our commitment to gender equality.

The Paradox of Motherhood

2008-04-03T12:26:00.004-07:00

*This is cross-posted over at Feminist Mormon Housewives

There have been several posts recently that have discussed how difficult it is to be a mother. There is no question that motherhood is complex, the monotony and self-sacrifice can be overwhelming. By the amount of comments and the solidarity expressed in these posts, it is evident that conversations like these are valid and needed, if only for the sanity of those participating in them. It is also clear that these women love their children fiercely. I would like to take the conversation in this direction. I feel that we should provide a place for women who feel the joy of motherhood as profoundly as they feel their feminism.

Motherhood is a sensitive subject and so I tread lightly in approaching this topic though I fear that I may be seen by some as deluded. In an effort to curtail this, I offer some basic information about me that might be helpful in putting my experience in perspective. I have only been a mother for fourteen months. My son, who we affectionately call “Baby Monster,” was an easy infant and has turned into a delightful toddler (despite the daily tantrums). I am pregnant again with a second child due in September. I may possibly be crazy, not only for having babies 20 months apart but not thinking it through well enough and being 9 months pregnant during August in Arizona. I am not a stay-at-home mother; I counsel victims of domestic violence and occasionally I lobby the Arizona legislature for better rights for DV victims. I am sure that one day I will stay at home but now is not the right time. Lastly, I have the most wonderful, feminist-minded husband who splits his time between doctoral candidate and stay-at-home daddy. I know my situation is unique and I am very blessed but I don’t feel that this disqualifies me from speaking on motherhood or maternal desire.

I don’t believe I am alone in the pleasure I feel from motherhood. Indeed, psychologist Daphne de Marneffe recently published a book entitled Maternal Desire that explores from a feminist point of view the ability of motherhood to allow us to integrate various levels of our humanity—emotional, intellectual, intuitive, physical—in a way that is truly gratifying and self-actualizing.

Women are constantly told how they should or shouldn’t mother…how they should and shouldn’t feel about mothering. The truth is, the maternal experience imbibes so many complex, and often conflicting emotions that it bears very little resemblance to the idealization we Mormons place upon motherhood. It is also unfair of some liberal feminists to denigrate the caring of children as demeaning and oppressive. Both representations are caricatures of motherhood and it is demeaning to women to believe that they would buy into either idea.

My love and affinity for being a mother took me by surprise. I expected to resent being a mother because the choice did not come without sacrifice. I gave up graduate school to become a mother. I wrote in my journal at the discovery of my pregnancy,

How have I come to this point? I am a FEMINIST! A year ago I was
unmarried, going to graduate school and moving forward. Now I am having a
baby instead of doing the things I wanted…will I even recognize the self that I
create. Maybe I will find a new self in the baby but what happens to the
self I like now?

I placed my identity on the altar of motherhood, not knowing if I would lose myself in the sacrifice. I cannot say that this was a faith-filled offering, but rather a sacrifice made out of expedience. My reward for this faithless surrender of self is best described by Reverend Canon Susan Harris in her Mother’s Day sermon. (I shamelessly stole this from Kristine’s post over at BCC. There is much more to this beautiful quote and the post is one of my favorites.)

Because He first loved us. Because Christ has risen…because while we lost
ourselves not just in sin but in duty, not just in forgetfulness but in
earnestness, in our sincere desire to do what was right for our children,
because although we lost ourselves in our mothering, God remembered us, and
brought us forward, and made us new.

I was made new by motherhood, an occurrence that I couldn’t reconcile with my feminist understanding. I have been guilty of thinking that caring for children is a trap; a throwback to 1950’s neo-Victorianism and the self-curtailment of intellect and talent. On the other hand, I absolutely reject the way we talk about motherhood in Mormonism which has become so mired in clichés about women’s nature that it is often used to guilt women into becoming the angel of the house; “enjoying” subsidized housekeeping, forsaking equality and living only for others. And yet…

And yet I crave motherhood. I delight in motherhood. My son is extraordinarily beautiful with huge blue eyes and the biggest grin you will ever see. I relish every feature, every body part. Baby Monster is independent, opinionated and passionate; a mirror of my own qualities but without the ugliness of fear and self-doubt. Of course, Monster’s independent spirit drives him to cross milestones long before I’m ready. Each one is a dagger in my mother heart, knowing that he will not and can not be my baby forever. The Baby Monster recently weaned himself, cutting off forever that warm passing of love and energy between us. I wept when I realized that my body and mother’s milk were no longer necessary for his comfort and survival. As if the embryonic cells he left behind in my body spoke to him, Monster was innately aware that his mother was grieving their separation. My son has started giving me deep hugs, then pulling my face to his, and giving me the sweetest baby mouth kisses. They fill my body and soul with the warmth and energy that used to be ours but now, are only passing. I spend my days longing for those brief moments of connection between us.

I feel the complexity of motherhood everyday, longing to be with the Baby Monster but feeling driven to my career. It is a tension that I, and all mothers have to face. There will always be tension in motherhood. In that tension there is ambivalence; there is no way to ever make the perfect choice, there are always trade offs. If mothers choose to work, there will be an indescribable ache to be the one to care and nurture their children, to feel that fusion that sustained intimacy can bring. Conversely, mothers who choose to remain in the home often long for separateness, the time to put together two rational thoughts and the satisfaction of reaching their fullest potential.

Our ability to find joy in mothering depends on our ability to meet and be sensitive to the inherent tension of motherhood. Allowing for this tension can assist in the discovery of who we really are and lead to the inhabitation of our authentic self. Motherhood is an unparalleled opportunity to experience the abounding joy of connectedness to those whom we love and sacrifice for. In the paradox of mothering, lies the truth of motherhood, that we each must be sensitive enough not only to know how best to mother our children, but also how best to mother ourselves.

What I Learned From My Ward's Relief Society Birthday Party!

2008-03-28T15:54:00.006-07:00

Bathsheba W. Smith, third president of the General Relief Society, was not in fact, the Bathsheba from the Bible. Nope, she never went prancing around without her clothes on.

This information is generously brought to you from my ward's Relief Society Birthday Party.

I Can't Understand This

2008-03-25T09:19:00.004-07:00

There are a few things that fill my soul with rage, one of those is violence against women and children. I have had to de-sensitize myself a lot to this issue just because of the work I do. Every once in a while, I hear of something that makes me so angry that tears will pour down my face. The Dunbar Village rape case is one of these instances.

In 2007, a woman was gang raped by 10 men in her own home for over three hours, forced to have sex with her own 12-year-old son and survived an attempt to light both of them on fire. Four of those men have been arrested and are currently in prison without bail. This is where the story gets even more heinous. Despite conclusive DNA evidence, apparent photographic evidence that the rapists took on their cell phones during the attack and signed confessions, Al Sharpton and the NAACP have taken the defense of these four young men with the excuse that white men, accused of the same crime, are given bond. Equal justice is something that I fully support and those white men should be in prison. But just because our judicial system is racist doesn't mean that extremely violent black offenders should be treated with leniency!

I am dumbfounded by the actions of Al Sharpton and the NAACP. It is amazing to me that instead of standing up for the rights of an African American woman and her son, they chose to support the worst of men. Al Sharpton and the NAACP should be standing up and cheering that a violent act against a woman of color is actually being taken seriously for once. The statistics on rape cases against African American women that are fully investigated and prosecuted our abysmal. Even in this case, six of the attackers are still free and there is no effort to find them!

Go an read Rev. Dr. Renita J. Weems' call to action at her blog. Here are some things she suggest we can do:

1. Spread the word. Forward this if your conscience and concern have been raised. Send it to every concerned black citizen that you know.

2. Demand an explanation from your local NAACP chapter about this case. Cancel your membership to these organizations, and write a letter explaining that you will return when they prioritize the public safety needs of black women and children.

3. If you do not belong to these organizations, call and write them to tell them of your outrage and displeasure:

NAACP National Headquarters
4805 Mt. Hope Drive
Baltimore MD 21215

National Action Network
Rev. Al Sharpton
106 W. 145th Street
Harlem, New York

If you know an African American reporter or a black radio talk show host, forward this story to them and ask them to follow up on it.

Read the history of the Dunbar Village problem here: http://www.dunbarvillage2008.blogspot.com/

An Explanation

2008-03-22T07:19:00.005-07:00

I'm pregnant again. Between the morning sickness, working full time and running after a very active one year old I have been too exhausted to even worry about this blog.

Luckily I'm in my second trimester now and I'm getting some energy back. I have a couple of posts in the works that I promise will be done very soon.

In the meantime, I could use some advice on how to handle babies so close in age. This new baby is due in September, making them twenty months apart. There is no way to prepare the Baby Monster so I guess we will all be jumping into the deep end. Hopefully this next baby will be as easy as Baby Monster was. I won't hold my breath.

Godly Humor

2008-01-27T23:13:00.000-07:00

Do you ever get the feeling that God really enjoys playing jokes on his children?

I went to Relief Society today for the first time in almost two months. Between cruising, illnesses and nursing a baby monster through the last hour of church, I rarely get to meet with the sisters in the ward.

DH volunteered to take the baby monster to Elders' Quorum and I gladly accepted as I have been feeling nostalgic for Relief Society recently (for the first time ever!). Everything was going great--the good news minute kept me feeling good for the whole minute, and even the visiting teaching moment was sufficiently uplifting.

And then the Stake Relief Society president gets up to give the lesson...

"Sisters, today the lesson is on 'joyfully, willingly, and quietly' submitting."

The joke was definitely on me.

Poor People Ruin Everything: A Drama

2007-12-14T15:10:00.001-07:00

A mother and father sit patiently listening to a new pediatrician explaining to them that they should not have been concerned about the liquid exploding from either end of their baby monster for the past three days. The father is having an especially difficult time averting his eyes away from the over sized denim smock, depicting pastel Winnie the Pooh characters, that seems to have swallowed the small, lady pediatrician. Suddenly, the mother realizes that there is a vital question that must be asked...

Mother: Doctor, we are going to the Caribbean at the end of December. Are there any immunizations that the baby monster might need before we leave.

Pediatrician: Oh, no! Don't worry about that! Just take hand sanitizer and baby monster should be fine. You know, Mr. Pediatrician and myself went to the Caribbean a couple of years ago. It was so difficult because we were on this really nice vacation and we saw so many people living in poverty. Now we go to Hawaii; there are still poor people but at least you don't have to see them!

Mother and Father look at each other. Stunned silence.

The End.

Healing through Motherhood

2007-11-15T15:17:00.000-07:00

This was posted a couple of months ago at Feminist Mormon Housewives. It is the epilogue to my first post "Waiting to be healed."

I never thought much about being a mother. Of course, I always assumed I would be one because it’s just what you do, but motherhood was always an ambiguous concept that I refused to think about. I was focused on graduate school and the brilliant career I was going to have as a feminist historian. And then I got married and graduate school didn’t happen but pregnancy did.
All of a sudden, I found myself in a situation that I had never thought about, not even imagined. I was so conflicted, knowing that I should have been happy but feeling so incredibly inadequate. I couldn’t be a mother; I had no mothering skills at all and I didn’t like babies. More than anything, I was afraid that I would pass on all my insecurities to this child. I did not want to let my own frustration with life damage him the way my parent’s had me. I felt myself falling into the darkness that consumes. The hopelessness inside me was overwhelming, almost as if I had been buried alive. Pregnancy released the painful memories from my childhood that I had worked so hard to forget about. The loneliness and fear I had felt as a child came crashing down on me until I could hardly breathe.

The waves of hopelessness pounded me for months until one Sunday, sitting in Sacrament Meeting, I heard the Lord speak. “The child will heal you.” I felt a wriggle in my womb as if the baby I carried was trying to assure me of this truth. Something other than myself knew that being this child’s mother would provide the balm to my weary soul. A calm in the storm came and so I waited.

The day of my delivery arrived. It was long and exhausting. I had chosen to have my baby in a birth center so I could have a natural childbirth. I wanted to feel every contraction, every movement. I wanted to touch the power of womanhood. As I transitioned, the pounding waves came again, but this time they were physical and primal. I pushed for two hours; wondering through each contraction whether this would be the one to snuff out my life. And then I felt Her. The love was unbelievable. I was surrounded by my husband, mother and father, sister and two midwives, but theirs was not the only love I felt. My unnamed Mother, the one that I had so often longed for was with me, stroking my damp hair and holding me through the pain. I could not voice Her presence but I know She was there.

That night, as my husband lay sleeping, I tried to calm my beautiful newborn son. As he fussed and cried, I felt the familiar panic rise up in my throat. I saw the sadness in his big, blue eyes and I did not know how to comfort him. Tears came to my eyes as I felt my inadequacy; but without thinking, a simple tune escaped my lips. My crying child quieted. As I sung those cherished words of the realization of a Mother, my son, the child sent to heal me, looked at me with the deep perception that only newborns posses, as if to say, “I know, Mama. She is with us.” I felt Her presence and Her overwhelming love for me and my son. She has been with us ever since, whispering in my ear, lovingly instructing me how to be a mother. And that has healed me.

An Introduction to First Fig

2007-11-07T21:25:00.000-07:00

So this is my very first blog. As you can probably see, I created First Fig about a year ago but I spent that year deciding whether I was brave enough to have a blog. (Also I was having a baby but that's neither here nor there). Now that I have decided to be brave, I thought I would tell you a little bit about myself and my co-contributors.

About mraynes:

I am a Mormon feminist and have proudly claimed that label. I graduated with a degree in history with an emphasis in women' history and women's studies. I want more than anything else in the world to go to graduate school but the time is not right so I am supporting my husband through his doctoral program by working at a domestic violence shelter. I am the director of domestic violence services; basically I help women become independent through counseling and providing them with resources. I also facilitate groups both at the shelter and in the community. Recently I became a mother and it has been an amazing experience. Eventually I would like to go back to school and get my doctorate in social policy and social welfare.

About weasie:

Weasie is the middle sister. She is currently a junior at BYU, studying Anthropology. Right now she is preparing to go to Africa in January. She will be doing an internship in Tanzania and hopefully she will be able to give us updates every once and a while.

About rayness:

rayness is the baby of the family; she is the most beautiful and smartest of the three of us. She is a freshman at BYU and studying Political Science. rayness is a constitutional scholar, she can tell you about every Supreme Court decision ever decided. Her life goal is to be a Supreme Court Justice.

Hopefully my sisters will have enough time in their busy schedules to tell you more about themselves, they are amazing! Anyway, we are really excited about this and we hope you enjoy our blog.

How I became a feminist

2007-11-01T21:37:00.000-07:00

I have been feeling nostalgic since Halloween. When I was little, my mother used to dress me up as important women from history; one year I was Helen of Troy and the next I was Emmeline Pankhurst (I know there’s a big difference). This year I felt like being ironic, so I showed up at the ward’s trunk or treat as a Stepford Wife. I had a pink, floral, 50’s style dress on with a cardigan, apron and pearls. My name tag read “Mrs. Brandon S. Matthews…Stepford Wife” (this allowed my husband to go as himself). Honestly, I don’t think a lot of people got it, perhaps it would have been different if they had known that I have only partially taken my husband’s name and I am the breadwinner in the family. And of course, people now associate Stepford Wives with a horrible Nicole Kidman movie.

So you’re thinking, Okay…this walk down Halloween lane has been fascinating, but what does it have to do with how you became a feminist? I’m glad you asked. So there I was, walking around looking like Stepford Wife, holding my squirming baby dressed in a red M&M costume that I had stayed up till 4 a.m. hand sewing (I know, the ironies never end) and I ran smack dab into the man that made me into a feminist! Awkward! The last time I saw him, I was nineteen and telling him that it was ok that he hadn’t called me for four months and had broken my heart.

Immediately old memories started popping up, like the time he told me that “a college degree was only a piece of paper for a girl” or that “women have no history outside of their husband and children”. But my favorite was when he said that families with too many girls in them were “weak”, knowing I came from a family of all girls. Oh how I wanted to use my hard won assertiveness to fill this man with shame, but all I could do was stand there. He, on the other hand, quickly maneuvered a little pirate and his wife dressed as Miss America (I kid you not!) as the little boy asked, “Daddy, why aren’t we stopping at that one?” I heard him reply as he walked past me, “Because there is nothing there.”

The anger hit me in one huge wave and I wanted to scream at him, “Do you know what you’ve done to me!” But the nicety that has been socialized into me as a Mormon woman, the same nicety that allowed me to absolve him of his jack-assery towards me at nineteen, took over and I walked on to the next car. But not without reflecting on the road that this man inadvertently put me on.

I grew up in a pro-feminist home; I mean, my mother dressed me as Emmeline Pankhurst for goodness sake and my father is the kindest, most Christ-like man on the planet. I grew up reading Little Women and Anne of Green Gables, I identified with the strong female characters that I read about. I remember telling a little boy in 4th grade that I was a feminist (all I got was a puzzled look, how many 4th graders know what a feminist is?). When we got those ridiculous lessons in Young Women’s about homemaking and husband-keeping, I laughed at them and thought they were completely irrelevant to women of the 21st century. It honestly never occurred to me that some people still viewed women as less important than men. So I was completely unprepared for my first serious relationship with a man who happened to be a sexist.

A year at a church school had completely indoctrinated in me the importance of getting married and fulfilling my role as a woman as quickly as possible. When I went home for the summer to a new state and met that handsome and confident newly returned missionary, I was a prime target to be easily manipulated. I changed myself to fit what this man wanted; I pointedly ignored all the wonderful things I had been taught by my parents.

But nobody can change who they are completely and when we got back to school and I started taking a Women’s History class, the core of who I am started stirring once again. I remember talking to him about how women had been oppressed throughout history and he told me that I didn’t know what I was talking about and that I should keep my opinions to myself. Those words hurt me deeply but I didn’t say anything because I thought I was in love with this man and I wanted to keep him happy. After that, he never called me again. I think that he probably realized he was loosing control over me and so he cut his losses and moved onto a more malleable girl.

After the initial grief at the loss of my first love, the anger came. Anger at myself for changing who I was. Anger at men for being such jerks. Anger at the church for giving men the privilege of being jerks. Anger at God for allowing women to be oppressed by His sanctioned doctrines. I had a crisis of faith. It doesn’t matter right now how I got through that, I’m sure that I will talk about that at some later point, but a series of tender mercies were given to me and I am mostly at peace.

Like I said, I am mostly at peace and have a wonderful, happy life but I am not unscathed from my journey through feminism. Being a Mormon feminist is often a painful, lonely lot. I am much more cynical than I was at nineteen and I tend to see the worst in people, especially men. I won’t lie, there are days when I want to scream at that man, “Look at what you’ve done to me” because the journey is so hard. I know that I will spend the rest of my days fighting men like him and keeping my daughters safe from their sons. I will never fully forgive him because I will never fully be at peace, that is the lot of a Mormon feminist. But most days I am grateful for the road I am on and the awareness and complexity in my life.

Sacrament Talk

2006-11-16T18:11:00.001-07:00

This was a sacrament talk that I just gave in our new ward. I am sorry about the run on sentences and bad grammer, I wrote the talk out as I would say it. I relied heavily upon an article by Carol Cornwall Madsen, entitled "Mormon Women and the Temple." As this was a talk in Sacrament Meeting, I shied away from the more controversial topics. There is alot I could say about women and the priesthood, especially as it relates to the temple but I did not feel like it was an appropriate place to do so. I have come to a peaceful understanding of the temple, but there are still issues that bother me.

The genesis of my topic is a talk by Sister Elaine S. Dalton, entitled "We Did This For You." This is a very nice talk about the sacrifices our pioneer forefathers and foremothers made in order for us to have temples. As I was reading the talk and pondering on what I should talk about, I felt my thoughts directed to Mormon Women’s relationship with the temple. My thoughts are often drawn towards the situation of women in our world. I received a degree in history with an emphasis in women’s history and women’s studies. As I mentioned before, I work on behalf of women, and the post-baccalaureate degrees I will be pursuing deal primarily with women’s issues. I have felt a great deal of inspiration over the past few days from the Lord and I pray that I can convey what the Lord desires. Though I am talking about women, given from a woman’s perspective, the things that I will be sharing are equally applicable to men. I hope that the history, quotes and thoughts I share with you will help those of you who are preparing to go to the temple and give deeper meaning to those of us who are preparing to return to the temple.

History:

We have all heard the faith-promoting story of early Mormon sisters crushing their precious china to put on the outer walls of the Kirtland Temple so that the temple would gleam from a distance. LDS women’s history with the temple, however, is much more complex and fascinating. When Joseph Smith organized the Relief Society in 1842, he promised them that he would give them, as well as the elders and the church, the keys of the kingdom "that they would be able to detect every thing false." He then turned the key over to them in the name of God and declared that "this society shall rejoice and knowledge and intelligence shall flow down from this time." Reynolds Cahoon later confirmed Joseph’s intent to the Relief Society, saying "You knew no doubt [that] this society is raised by the Lord to prepare us for the great blessings which are for us in the House of the Lord in the Temple."

When the Lord called on the saints to build the Nauvoo temple, women were instrumental in its completion. Mercy Fielding Thompson received inspiration to have the sisters subscribe one cent per week for the purpose of buying glass and nails for the temple. She was able to collect nearly $1000 from the sisters in Illinois and England. Another interesting contribution from Sarah Kimball provides a great example of the ingenuity of women.

Three days after the birth of her son, Sarah Kimball asked her well-to-do, non-Mormon husband what he thought the son was worth. Her husband had a difficult time assigning a price tag to their new son, so Sarah suggested $1000. Hiram Kimball agreed to the sum. Then Sarah asked "And half of him is mine". He agreed again. Sarah then said, "Then I have something to help on the Temple…and I think of turning my share right in as tithing." Some days later, Hiram related the conversation to Joseph Smith. "I accept all such donations," Joseph promptly answered, "and from this day the boy shall stand recorded, Church property." Then he added, "You now have the privilege of paying $500 and retaining possession, or receiving $500 and giving possession." Hiram Kimball readily deeded to Joseph a piece of property well worth the $500, thereby gaining title to his child and closing the transaction. So sisters, here is a new way of getting money from your husbands. Some of you could be doing very well for yourself.

It is easy to see that the temple meant a lot to these early sisters, but why? The temple ordinances are applicable to both men and women and promise the same level of exaltation, this was incredibly significant to women of the time. The Victorian Era, in which time the church was formed, was particularly oppressive to women; they could not vote, own property, speak in public forums.

The temple opened up a new concept of spiritual participation relating to the "privileges, blessings and gifts of the priesthood" which not only enhanced their position in the church but also offered limitless potential in the hereafter. The introduction of temple ordinances in Nauvoo opened to all worthy Mormon women a new understanding of their place in the plan of salvation and in the church. They joyously received temple ordinances for the new dimension of spiritual life and hope they offered. They accepted the opportunity to participate in temple work as an honor and cherished the sacredness of their temple experiences. Eliza R. Snow recognized that Mormon women were on the forefront of a new dispensation for women and declared, "We are at the head of all the women of the world." And she was absolutely correct. The gospel was, and is, the most progressive and revolutionary of all religions and teachings on this earth. The temple plays a key role in giving us this revolutionary knowledge.

Preparation:

When Joseph Smith met with the Relief Society in 1842 and spoke of giving them the keys of the kingdom, it was clear that he was exhorting them to put their lives in order to receive the "knowledge and intelligence" that he would soon reveal to them. Joseph Smith told Mercy Fielding Thompson at the time of her endowment that "this will bring you out of darkness into marvelous light." The temple can provide the miracle of knowledge and intelligence for us as well, but how do we prepare ourselves for the marvelous light that can be ours.

There are, of course, the fundamental principles that we must live in order to get into the temple. These principles are asked about in our temple recommend interview. We need to keep the commandments, including keeping ourselves morally clean. There are temple preparation classes that provide a good, basic understanding of what we learn in the temple. True scripture study and prayer are an invaluable tool for helping us gain understanding into what the temple is trying to teach us.

Though the principles I mentioned above are important and helpful, we may need more help in order to understand the knowledge and intelligence that Joseph Smith promised was in the temple ceremony. Might I suggest several things that were invaluable to me as I prepared and learned about the temple? These measures are helpful to all preparing to go to, or return to the temple.

The first is education, both spiritual and secular. Training one’s mind to understand the complexities of our world allows us to see and understand the complexities of the temple ceremony. The temple ceremony is veiled in symbolism; it is our job to decipher those symbols and use the knowledge we have gained in order to get back to our Heavenly Father’s presence.

The second is an understanding and belief in the goodness of the Plan of Salvation. Of all the doctrine in our gospel, the Plan of Salvation is perhaps the most simple and beautiful, and yet the most misunderstood. We cannot break through the symbolism of the temple unless we fully understand our roles as sons and daughters of God within His glorious plan.

The third tool that was useful to me was a process that Abraham Maslow called Self-Actualization. Inherent in the nature of women and men is a desire to become the best person they can. To press towards "unity of personality, toward spontaneous expressiveness, toward full individuality and identity, toward seeing the truth rather than being blind, toward being creative, toward being good…That is, the human being is so constructed that he presses toward what most people would call good values, toward serenity, kindness, courage, honesty, love, unselfishness, and goodness." The steps to self-actualization are the same ones we should be taking in order to get back to the Kingdom of Heaven:

Experience things fully, vividly, selflessly.
Shut out the distractions of the world. Let your true self emerge and then let your experience enable you to say what you truly feel.
Be honest with yourself. Taking responsibility is self-actualizing
Listen to your own tastes. Know your moral being. Be prepared to be unpopular.
Use your intelligence. The glory of God is Intelligence.
Make spiritual experiences more likely by getting rid of illusions and false notions.
Find out who you are, what you are, what you like and don't like, what is good and what is bad for you, where you are going, what your mission is.
The gospel challenges us to become better people, to become self-actualized.

We do not have to be our very best when we enter the temple, but we should have the desire to become our best through what the temple teaches us. The sincere desire to receive light and knowledge is often enough for the Lord to bless us with it.

I now would like to share with you my first experience with the temple. I do so with some trepidation because it is very personal. I ask for your compassion and understanding. I do not offer myself up as an example of faithlessness. Rather I am sharing with you one woman’s relationship with the temple and how a loving Father in Heaven has blessed her because of that experience.

I did not go on a mission, so a month before Brandon and I were to be married we met my parents and Brandon’s parents at the Winter Quarter’s Temple in Omaha, Nebraska (which was the closest temple to where my parents were living at the time). I had gone to temple preparation classes, studied my scriptures and prayed, discussed with Brandon a little bit of the temple ceremony.

I was not prepared, however, for the actual ceremony and I quickly became overwhelmed by the symbolism and language of the endowment. I was also unprepared for what I saw as the hierarchy of men over women put in place by Eve’s choice to partake of the fruit. This simply did not, and does not, fit with my understanding of the gospel and Plan of Salvation. Towards the end of my endowment, I broke down and sobbed. I sobbed through out the remainder of the ceremony and into the Celestial Room. I could not contain myself. I was embarrassed; I felt I had let down my future husband and my parents. And yet my sense of duty to those I loved could not overcome the feelings of hopelessness that were rushing at me. Brandon and I spent an awkward evening with our parents and then went back to BYU.

I pause here to remind you of something I said earlier. If we have a sincere desire to receive truth and light, the Lord, in his infinite mercy, will grant it to us. In my case, the Lord had already given me a tender mercy in the form of a beloved professor and mentor. This woman had helped me with understanding my purpose as a woman in this life and the next.
Monday afternoon I went to her once again, sobbing, begging her to give me peace. And she was able to. What I learned in her office is too sacred to share, but it stands as a testament that our Heavenly Father desires to bless his children with marvelous light.

Brandon and I visited the temple frequently before our wedding. A week before we were to be married we went to the temple to do a sealing session. The officiator was the old temple president of the Provo Temple. Half way through the session, the man stopped and said that he had a prompting and that he needed to share important truths with us. The temple president then proceeded to reiterate almost word for word what my teacher had shared with me in her office. It was so important to the Lord that I receive the light and knowledge that I so desperately needed that he provided two separate ways to bless me.

My experience at the temple, while not perfect, has been one of the biggest blessings in my life, the relationship with my husband, and it has continued to bless the lives of our families.

Conclusion:

I said before that the restored gospel is the most revolutionary for women of all those taught on this earth. This is not to say that there are not problems, the church is an imperfect earthly institution populated by imperfect people. But the gospel is perfect, and in it there is full equality between woman and man. The gospel, which is the only concern of the Church, was devised by the Lord for men and women alike. Indeed, our prophet recently said, "Now, my dear sisters…I remind you that you are not second-class citizens in the kingdom of God. You are His divine creation…Without you, our Father's plan of happiness would be frustrated and have no real meaning."

The temple ceremony provides the proof of women’s equality. Both men and women officiate in the temple ceremony. Eliza R. Snow recognized the unique blessing it is to be a Mormon woman. "They [Mormon Women] occupy a more important position than is occupied by any other women on the earth…sharing in the gifts and powers of the holy Priesthood…participating in those sacred ordinances, without which, we could never be prepared to dwell in the presence of the Holy Ones." Women are just as much saviors upon Mount Zion as men are.

D&C 132:20 promises married couples that they "shall inherit thrones, kingdoms, principalities, and powers, dominions, all heights and depths…and they shall pass by the angels, and the gods, which are set there, to their exaltation and glory in all things." The truths taught in the temple give us a glimpse into eternity and the blessings that are ours as women. If modern scripture is correct, a woman’s godhood, which, like a man’s, is "above all" and encompasses "all power," is neither limited nor subservient. No distinctions are made as to the dimensions of male and female godhood. Elder James E. Talmage taught that "woman [shall] be recompensed in rich measure for all the injustice that womanhood has endured in mortality. Then shall woman reign by Divine right, a queen in the resplendent realm of her glorified state."

It is our duty to prepare ourselves for the glorious knowledge and intelligence that can be ours through temple attendance. Once we have prepared and received truths, it is then our calling to be instrumental in restoring the equality which existed when the world was created. We are literally endowed with power from on high when we go to the temple. This gives us a sense of divine grace and approbation that sets us apart from the rest of the world. We have the assurance that we can become like Christ.

Whatever indignity is forced upon women in this world; the meaning of the temple is clear. Its power, its purpose, and its promises for women are eternal. I pray that all of us, women and men, will prepare themselves to receive the marvelous light that the temple can bring.

Waiting to be Healed

2006-11-12T16:33:00.001-07:00

I am waiting to be healed, I am waiting for the Balm of Gilead promised to those who sorrow. My sorrow is that of all the disenfranchised women in the world and eternities. I have pushed the fears of eternal inequality to the back of my mind. My longing for a relationship with a more present Mother in Heaven is reserved for when we sing ‘O My Father’ in church. The absence of female role models in the scriptures elicits only a brief murmuring from me. It isn’t that I have stopped pondering these issues, on the contrary, they are ever present in my mind. I am just waiting for the intangible resolution.

I work for a woman’s non-profit domestic violence program where the injustice of our legal system and society is painfully evident. Going to church reinforces my fear of injustice and inequality in the eternities. I constantly wonder if my feelings are valid; it depresses me that a majority of women see nothing wrong, they feel no pain at the situation forced upon them by nature’s chance. My husband often jokes that I can’t be happy with my own blessed situation, that my very being requires me to feel the pain of women whether they need or want me to. His joking insight is true, I have chosen to feel pain for those who can’t or don’t need to feel it for themselves. I have chosen to feel that pain and then use my own opportunities to speak out against it.

Sorrow is an instructive tool meant for brief times in our lives, brief because it can so easily turn into despair and bitterness. This is the point where I find myself, on the fence between instruction and the destruction of my faith. The God I know, the one that must exist, weeps when his daughters are abused by a fallen patriarchal system. My God loves me for all my femaleness; He does not see me as cursed, less than or unimportant in mortality or eternity.

The peace and understanding I have received are the result of my times of sorrow. The redemption that followed came in the form of tender mercies from a loving Father and Mother. My first foray into the sorrow of women introduced me to a wonderful woman and professor who healed my heart with an idyllic understanding of the eternities and Plan of Salvation. It is an understanding that I cling to in my darkest hours. Later, when my frustration at the male sex and patriarchy threatened to overwhelm me, my now husband soothed the anger by proving my idealism could be a reality with him.

The sorrow of women has returned to me once more. As I sat in church this past week allowing myself to feel sad, the Lord spoke to me. “The child will heal you.” I felt the wriggle in my womb as if the baby I am carrying was trying to assure me of this truth. My first child, a son, will be born in February. Something other than myself knows that being this child’s mother will provide the balm to my weary and wounded soul. I have postponed the ultimate battle between my faith’s sorrowful instruction and the destruction of what I want so desperately to believe. So I must wait.