This is going to be a short post. This is intentional, because I don't want to say much. I'm reposting the "Transgender Basics" video again, because I think it's worth watching again. However, this time I want to focus on -- and ask my readers to focus on -- the segment titled "Gender complexity." It starts at around 5:11 and goes until almost 9:00. Listen to the experiences recounted by the trans* people who talk about their experiences growing up. Try to put yourself in their shoes.
I cannot begin to imagine what it's like to identify with a gender that's different from the sex I was assigned at birth. I cannot imagine what it's like to know in my heart that I identify with one gender while having friends, family, society telling me I can't possibly be the gender I identify with.
Listening to this video, I'm trying to imagine what that would be like, because this is the reality[1] of the people speaking in the video. If I want to undestand them and support them, I need to struggle with that reality, I need to try to imagine what that reality is like. I need to try and understand that reality and how that affects them, even if only imperfectly.
Note: [1] One of the greatest pitfalls of privileged people everywhere is that just because they can't imagine a marginalized person's reality, they subsequently deny that reality.
I apologize for not getting a blog post up yesterday. Extra hours at work and the mental exhaustion caused by a major deadline and other factors prevailed, and I chose to spend much of the last forty-eight hours taking care of myself rather than blogging. I hope to make time and conserve mental energy tonight to meet my blogging schedule for the rest of this week.
In the meantime, I wanted to bring attention to a week-old story from the Huffington Post. Kristen Wolfe relates a story in which two boys come in to the store she works so the older boy can buy the other one, his younger brother, a game and game controller. The younger brother selects a game with a female character and a purple controller, specifically referring to purple as a "girl color." All is well and everyone is happy until the boys' father gets involved. Kristen describes his reaction:
He saw the game, and the controller, and started in on the youngest about how he needs to pick something different. Something more manly. Something with guns and fighting, and certainly not a purple controller. He tried to convince him to get the new Zombie game "Dead Island" and the little boy just stood there repeating, "Dad, this is what I want, OK?" Eventually it turned into a full-blown argument complete with Dad threatening to whoop his son if he didn't choose different items.
Kristen goes on to tell how the older brother stood up for his sibling until his father backed won and then reassured the boy. Kristen herself spoke to the younger brother, pointing out that he should go on liking whatever it is he likes, regardless of what other people think. It's a great story that challenges gender stereotypes and vindicates those who choose not to be limited by the narrowly defined gender roles.
I think it's equally important to note, however, that this story is also about misogyny. The father in the story's whole problem with his younger son's choices is that, in his mind at least, they're not sufficiently "manly" choices. That's code word for "his son is being too much like a girl." This suggests that there's something wrong with a boy being "too much like a girl,"[1] which suggests that there's probably something wrong with being a girl.
This is my problem with ideas like "manning up" and "being a man." They are based in the idea that "being a man" really means "not being a girl/woman." It reinforces the idea that women are second-class humans, even if unintentionally. And I'm not at all convinced it's unintentional.
Note: [1] Which means we're almost certainly in transphobic territory too.
There's a lot that I could and would like to say about this video, and I suspect I may do multiple blog posts about it due to the vast range of thoughts I had and my limited time today. Part of me is tempted to hold off on this post for a few days so I can work more on it, as this topic deserves a great deal of thought and consideration. However, my desire to keep my commitment to talking about this today is going to take precedent. I think it would be way too easy for me to use "working on a better, more considerate post" as an excuse to procrastinate.
I think one of the things that interested me is how the Authentic Gender Model breaks down and separates physical sex, gender roles, and gender identity.[1] Having done some reading[2] on gender essentialism and the growing body of evidence that most of the traits and roles that we tend to consider inherently gendered is a matter of social conditioning, I'm well aware that physical sex and gender roles can be quite distinct. The idea of gender identity being a distinct paradigm separate from gender roles, however, is somewhat new to me. It's quite possibly the one take-away from this video that I need to think more about.[3] I hope to get a better understanding of what it means from a trans* person's perspective when zie says their gender identity is as a man, a woman, or neither.
The other part that I found interesting about the AGM was the fact that it presents even physical sex as a spectrum. Before this video, I had never considered that there's more to physiological sex than which genitals someone has. The video rightfully points out that even in terms physiology, sex is much more complex than the simple binary we tend to make it out to be. To me, this strengthens the already strong argument that our understanding of gender needs to be even more complex when we start to move beyond physiology and think about roles and identity.
My first take-away from this video is an even bigger understanding of just how nuanced and complex gender actually is, and that being trans* is first and foremost about recognizing that complexity and rejecting society's attempt to force one to fit into the simplest and most inaccurate model in favor of embracing the far more complex and unique reality for oneself.
One of the things that I noticed about both the panelists from Thursday night and the trans* people who spoke in this video is that they are unique, authentic, and compelling people who are seeking to live authentic lives. As one of the speakers in the video says, she desires people to avoid reducing her to a transwoman and see the incredible person[4] that she is overall. I hope and trust that by allowing her and other trans* people the freedom to express their gender identity authentically, we enable them to show what incredibly unique and and complex individuals they are in other ways as well.
What are some of your thoughts on the video?
Notes: [1] I'm intentionally leaving out the fourth component of the model, sexual orientation, for this initial post to focus on the first three. There will be time enough to talk about sexual orientaten and how it relates to gender later.
[2] Thank you for guiding me down that path, feminists.
[3] I'm also hoping that the resources at the Gender Identity Project site will provide me with deeper insight.
[4] I'm hesitant about saying "person" here rather than "woman." On the one hand, I want to stress that her identity includes far more than her gender identity and that she's incredible for more reasons than just her gender identity. On the other hand, I don't want to deny or ignore that identity either. Her gender identity may not define all of who she is, but it is an integral part of who she is, and I don't want to deny or invisibilize that part of her, either.
One of the things that I liked about Thursday night's panel discussion is that the organizers included two allies in the list of panelists. Listening to both women speak on behalf of the trans* people they support in very real ways was inspiring. All the time I listened, I could not help but think, "This is how allies are supposed to act."
The first ally who spoke, a woman named Cassie, spent much of her time sharing an experience she had years ago while working in a psych center. The experience centered around her acting as an advocate for a transwoman who was admitted as an inpatient -- and seemingly about the only advocate the woman had in a center full of healthcare professionals. Over the five days that the woman was there, the staff created all kinds of problems, from putting this woman in with the men to insisting that she wear stereotypical "male" clothing instead of the clothes she brought with her to even insisting on referring to her by her male birth name. Each time an issue came up, Cassie spoke out on the woman's behalf, reasoning that the staff was there to help this woman through her troubled times (she was there for a substance abuse issue), but by not accepting her for who she was and accommodating her needs, they were actually making things more difficult for her. Sadly, Cassie lost the good fight, and the woman eventually checked out of the program against medical advice and disappeared.
What both amazed and inspired me about Cassie is that as she told this story, she told it with an incredible sense of compassion and passion. Even several years after these events took place, the ferocity in her voice as she told of how this transwoman was wronged was palpable. This woman mattered to Cassie and the injustice done to her still matters to Cassie, all these years later.
A lot of allies are justly criticized for coming across as being more interested in drawing attention to what a great ally they are rather than actually advocating for and drawing attention to those they are (allegedly) seeking to help. Cassie and the other ally who spoke Thursday night -- another woman named Kelly -- demonstrated that this does not have to be the case. They both focused to the plight of trans* people they knew and sought to help, communicating a deep desire to see the conditions of their lives greatly improved. Listening to them left me inspired to emulate them, to ask, "How can I help to? I mean, really help?"
Last night, I attended a trans* panel discussion facilitated by the Empire State Pride Agenda and hosted by the Gay Alliance of the Genesee Valley. It was attended by approximately fifty people and the presenters were incredible people whose stories were well worth hearing. What struck me is that those who planned the event took great care to choose presenters that demonstrated the great diversity of expression in the local trans* community. Speakers included a transwoman, a transman, a crossdresser, and a genderqueer individual. Each of them shared a brief glimpse -- there's only so much one can share in ten minutes -- into their lives and their experiences embracing their gender identity and gender expression. I wish more people had been there to hear these incredible people speak.
To me, it was an honor to listen as they shared a part of their lives that is rather intimate and personal. I imagine that for them, it was an act of courageous vulnerability. After the discussion, I approached the various panelists and thanked them for sharing their stories with me. Each one of them responded with, "Thank you for coming and listening."
"Thank you for listening." They didn't thank me for filling out the provided postcard asking my state senator to support the Gender Expression Non-Discrimination Act currently before the New York assembly and senate -- which I did do. They thanked me for listening. I think that's because listening is important.
While listening is not sufficient by itself to be a good ally -- a good ally is then motivated to act on what zie hears -- listening is an essential first step. Getting to know and understand the people a person wishes to support and be an ally for helps them understand how zie can best help them rather than doing well-intentioned, but unhelpful or even hurtful things out of ignorance. Also, I think that learning to listen and engage with the stories of others -- trans* people in this case -- humanizes them, generates empathy for them, and hopefully builds a desire to support them and their fight for equality and justice.
Over the next couple days, I hope to talk more about trans* issues, including blogging about a video one of the allies from the panel discussion recommended I blog about to encourage further discussion. But today, in my mind, I'm still listening. I would invite you to listen as well.
For those of you who missed it, Cardinal George of the Chicago diocese of the Catholic church recently made statements on FOX News comparing the QUILTBAG community to the KKK because pride parade organizers changed the parade's route this year, meaning that the parade would pass by Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church. Because you know, marching past a church one day out of the whole year and potentially making things a bit more difficult for church-goers wishing to attend services that day[1] is exactly the same as terrorizing non-caucasian people with cross burnings and other such activities. (For further thoughts on the Cardinal's statements, be sure to check out Fannie's post.)
Well, apparently that hasn't gone well for Cardinal, (shocker, I know) because he issued the following statement on the archdiocese website:
Statement from Francis Cardinal George, OMI Archbishop of Chicago January 6, 2012
During a recent TV interview, speaking about this year's Gay Pride Parade, I used an analogy that is inflammatory.
I am personally distressed that what I said has been taken to mean that I believe all gays and lesbians are like members of the Klan. I do not believe that; it is obviously not true. Many people have friends and family members who are gay or lesbian, as have I. We love them; they are part of our lives, part of who we are. I am deeply sorry for the hurt that my remarks have brought to the hearts of gays and lesbians and their families.
I can only say that my remarks were motivated by fear for the Church's liberty. This is a larger topic that cannot be explored in this expression of personal sorrow and sympathy for those who were wounded by what I said.
Francis Cardinal George, OMI
This is what some of us like to call a "fauxpology." Note that the Cardinal isn't actually sorry for what he said, he's merely sorry for the way some people interpreted what he said. Apparently, to the Cardinal, there is some mystic context in which it's okay to compare QUILTBAG people -- any QUILTBAG person[2] -- to the KKK. A real apology would have started not with "I'm distressed that people took my statements that way," but with "That was a rather cruel and defamatory thing I said. I'm sorry."
It would've ended there, too. There would be no further need for an explanation or an attempt to rationalize his statements. To be honest, the person you owe an apology to does not care why you said or did something hurtful to them. They don't care whether you were motivated by fear, greed, or voices in your head. They just want you to stop hurting them and make whatever restorative steps may be appropriate.
The fact that the Cardinal goes on to talk about his "motivating fears" means not only that he's trying to make excuses why what he said wasn't so bad, but he's trying to make the whole thing about him. Instead of focusing on the people he's hurt, he's making a shameless play for sympathy.
It's a bad play at that. He's afraid of the loss of religious liberty? Again, consider that the only "religious liberty" in jeopardy by the parade were that some church-goers might have been inconvenienced for a single service. And while I appreciate that the parade organizers were willing to do something to mitigate that problem, such a minor inconvenience would have hardly made a martyr of anyone. The Cardinal is simply playing into the persecution complex that his church has been well known for lately.
Recall that the Catholic church has lately been playing the martyr card because various states -- including Illinois -- has been telling them that Catholic Charities cannot take taxpayer money for adoption and foster care services while discriminating against QUILTBAG people. They've also been complaining that Catholic health services cannot receive aid for health programs that refuse to either provide women with reproductive services or at least refer them to someone else. It seems to me that Catholic leaders like Cardinal George only care about waning liberties when it's their own religious liberties. When it comes to the rights of women and QUILTBAG people that they're religion doesn't care fore, they're okay with diminishing rights.
Of course, the greatest insult is how Cardinal George plays the "I have friends and loved ones who are gay" card, as if that somehow absolves him of his horribly anti-gay and homophobic statements. I recently talked about the "gay friend" defense and will not repeat myself here.
Given the importance that the concept that repentance and reconciliation plays in Catholic theology, it seems to me that Cardinal George would do well to do a better job acting out both in this situation.
Notes: [1] To the parade organizers' credit, they delayed the start of the parade when the church expressed concerns about the parade interfering with church-goers ability to attend services. In my book, they're willingness to work with the church made the Cardinal's comments all that more egregious. [2] Okay, I wouldn't be surprised to learn there's a QUILTBAG person out there who is actually a member of the KKK. But then, they're sexual orientation and/or gender identity have nothing to do with the fact that they're a racist. And it wouldn't be a comparison.
Note from Jarred: When I began reading chapter eight of Raised Right: How I Untangled my Faith from Politics, I was pleasantly surprised to see how much space Ms. Harris devoted to sharing her own experiences with sexism in the Church and how it affected the way she saw others who had a differing view on various subjects. I felt it would be good to spend a bit of extra time looking at this topic. I also felt that there was someone (several someones, actually) who was better suited to speak to the topic. So I asked an old blogging buddy, Pam Hogeweide, if she'd be willing to write something on the topic. After all, Pam has not only done a good deal of research on sexism in the church and women in theology, but as a woman, she has first-hand experience. I was delighted when Pam accepted the invitation.
On an editorial note, beyond making a few visual formatting changes (such as fixing up the quotes for my blog) and bolding the word "complementarianism" where Pam gives a brief definition of the word, I have strived to duplicate Pam's words exactly as she sent them to me.
Jarred and I are blog buddies and Twitter pals. Though we've never met, we have crossed paths many times in the digital world for several years. I am honored that he has invited me to share some thoughts for his series on the book, Raised Right: How I Untangled My Faith from Politics, by Alisa Harris.
In chapter eight of the book, Alisa gives us glimpses of the sexism she experienced from her church that has left her a bit scraped up. Female prejudice is an unfortunate reality in our culture, though Alisa sheds light on how the Christianized version of sexism tried to box her in. Like after her graduation from college. Alisa had travelled home only to find that the spiritual leaders from her childhood were there to stage an intervention:
". . . I sat between my parents and listened while our pastor and a church elder explained how my own sin required them to stage an intervention. The pastor and elder, part of a loose affiliation of fundamentalist churches, had grave reservations about women attending college when God ordained marriage and babies instead. College had changed me, they said. I talked more about careers and academics than about being a wife and a mother. . . I was no longer the kind of person they wanted their daughters to emulate."
These are harsh words hurled by men of the cloth who are attempting to keep Alisa on the straight and narrow of being a good Christian woman. It is all too common for women from conservative Christian churches (as well as not-so-conservative) to experience this tearing at personhood for the heresy of being Her.
I am well acquainted with the complementarian position Alisa's childhood pastors asserted. I used to live under it myself and also defend it. Complementarianism is a fancy theological term that shrouds the idea that women are equal, BUT separate. It's the idea that God in his divine order of creation has uniquely created men to lead and women to assist. It's why men are the the pastor and women the secretary.
This view is based on a handful of scripture verses that at first glance seem to support the complementarian position. For instance, 1 Corinthians 14:34-35 says, "The women are to keep silent in the churches, for they are not permitted to speak, but are to subject themselves, just as the Law also says. If they desire to learn anything, let them ask their own husbands at home, for it is improper for a woman to speak in church."
Sounds pretty dire for women, doesn't it? But the same author who is given credit for penning these words--the apostle Paul--also wrote in Galatians 3:28: "There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus." So which is it Paul? Are women free to be anything or is there a hierarchal constraint designed by God?
It was these kinds of inconsistent Bible verses that got me into debates with other Christians when I was younger. I saw the world in black and white evangelical hues. I was the girl who had the bumper sticker that read, God said it, I believe it that settles it. But I have always been a blessed woman who has possessed strong minded female friends. And it was one of those friends who first wrangled with me that God does indeed esteem women as fully as men. Just look at how Jesus treated women. He was scandalous. Rabbis of his time were not to look let alone speak to women publicly or touch them. Yet Jesus related freely with women, breaking all social and cultural and religious protocol.
So the issue of female equality in the typical protestant church is reduced to the interpretation of a few Bible verses. The problem here is that rigid beliefism locks many people into an immovable perspective that leaves no room for a spirit of inquiry or respect for differing opinions. Like this commenter who left this challenging remark at my blog in response to my post about women's equality in the church:
You need to be reminded that this world isn't about you and what goes on in your mind. This about God and what he wants, and if he were to demand that there be a separate, lower section of seats in the church for women to sit in, then as a believer in God you better sit there! Now obviously I'm using a more extreme case of "sexism" or whatever you would call it to illustrate my point, but at least you understand it. If you disagree with that argument then you are disagreeing with God, because whatever God asks of you, you need to do. It's a simple fact that Eve took the fruit and ate it before giving it to Adam and convincing him to eat it as well. So you tell me, why do you think God doesn't want women to lead the church? (from How God Messed Up My Religion)
I wish I were making this up, but nope, sexism is alive and well in the 21st century and it's dressed up in pretty church language in Christendom.
A woman's identity is overrun with messages from her church that she is to be the sidekick to man's leading role in the narrative of life. These forces shape and inform a woman's perception of herself. Alisa reveals this when she writes,
"I sat through sermons where the pastor said we should train our children--but especially our sons--to be spiritual warriors, as if women's warfare was battling a grimy kitchen instead of the forces of darkness. I sat heavy in my seat while the pastor invited the men and boys, but not the women, to pray for a teenager going on a mission trip. Women probably shouldn't be missionaries, said the pastor's kid."
A thousand instances like this one will affect the image of God a woman will internalize. I remember one women's Bible study I attended years ago. One of the participants said out loud to us in a moment of vulnerability, "I wonder if God just thinks women are meant to be doormats." She began crying with that admission, her feminine wound bleeding out on the clean church carpet. The room sat quietly, and then, the moment passed, and we resumed our discussion of why biblical submission is a Christian woman's duty.
I've blogged about these things many times. There is always pushback like from the commenter above. It is controversial, and this I find absurd, an absolute absurdity that the issue of women and equality in church is an issue at all.
Hear me on this: in the 19th century American church, slavery was a controversial issue!
I'm glad Alisa is telling it like it is. Women need to do this. We need to tell our stories, to say out loud what's happened to us and to make sure we don't minimize Christianized oppression as a mere theological hiccup that's irritating but has to be accepted. No. I don't think so, and it sounds like Alisa doesn't think so either. The church might not have raised her right in helping empower her in all her womanly glory, but she's managed to find her voice despite her conditioning to be a domesticated female. That makes her a warrior woman in my mind, no matter her faith or politics.
Pam Hogeweide is a blogger and writer. Her first book, Unladylike: Resisting the Injustice of Inequality in the Church, confronts and dismantles Christianized sexism. It will be released by on Amazon January 23. Pam lives in Portland, Oregon with her husband Jerry and their two teenagers.
Like racism, sexism, and transphobia, homophobia is something that can be quite subtle, yet persistent. Some people think that not calling gay people "dykes" and "faggots" and not perpetrating physical violence against gay people means they are free of all homophobia. However, they miss the little things that they say and do that continue and encourage negative attitudes -- no matter how subtle -- toward QUILTBAG[1] people.
I was reminded of this earlier this week when I watched a random person stutter and stammer, and try to demonstrate his self-perceived non-homophobic status to me. As I listened to him, I began to compile the following list of things that indicate one has a homophobia problem. Some of the statements in this list are things that this person actually said, while other ones are things that came to mind.
"I'm not homophobic, but...."
I think it's good to start with this one because it's based on a greater and possibly universal principle. You can replace "homophobic" with "sexist," "racist," "transphobic," "ablist," "classist," or just about anything else, and the statement will still be problematic.
This statement fails because basic communications teaches that the word "but" cancels out anything said up to that point. The preceding clause can be removed and not change the rest of the message. So if whatever comes after the word "but" is the true message. If that message "sounds" homophobic, it is homophobic.
This statement is actually about self-deception, in that the person knows what they are about to say is indeed homophobic, but they do not wish to be perceived -- by themselves or others -- as homophobic. They think that simply asserting that they are not homophobic, they are somehow insulated[2] by the homophobic sentiments they are about to express or imply.
If you find yourself saying "I'm not homophobic, but," stop talking immediately. Accept that what you were about to say was homophobic and be a better person by not saying it. Ever again.
"I didn't know you were gay."
If you say something in front of me and realize it wasn't a good thing to say in front of me due to my sexual orientation, then you shouldn't have said it in my absence, either. It's amazing to me that people don't get this concept.
People are more concerned about not appearing homophobic than they are with actually being homophobic. In their minds, it's okay to make homophobic and other problematic statements as long as no one -- at least no one who doesn't share those same sentiments -- actually hears them. I'm reminded of the saying that what a person does when others are watching defines zir reputation while what zie does when no one is looking defines zir character. It seems that we live in a society where many people are concerned about their reputation, but not their character.
"I have gay friends."
To be frank, I think every QUILTBAG person I know is one of those "gay friends." If you talk about your "gay friends" as a defense against accusations of homophobia, stop and ask your "gay friends" how they feel about this. Quite frankly, I'm the "gay friend" of several people, and they don't make my list of people I'd call up if I just had a bad break up, if I needed to talk to someone about an STD scare, or even if I was just feeling depressed and needed someone to talk to. Quite frankly, such people overstate the strength and value of our "friendship." I often suspect the person who starts telling me about their "gay friends" in this context are doing likewise.
There's also the fact that having gay friends -- even real gay friends -- does not make one a perfect person when it comes to being an ally for gay people or homophobia-free. I do have legitimate friends who occasionally slip up and say something stupid and hurtful. The reason they're still my friends is because when I point it out to them, they acknowledge it and apologize. They don't start telling me how they can't possibly be homophobic because they have friends like me.
"I was only joking."
Now, I like gay humor. I make all kinds of jokes about myself, especially those areas in which I actually fit the gay male stereotypes. I also make such jokes because humor can be a powerful way to reclaim power over something that is hurtful and othering.
However, as a gay man, I have the right to make that choice. I can joke about things that hurt me because it's my life and my pain I'm joking about. When I do it, it's a powerful weapon I'm wielding. When someone else -- such as a heterosexual person -- does it, it's likely to be rubbing salt in my wounds. Someone else making light of that which hurts and others me is not empowering me, it's having a laugh at my expense.
I may let some friends -- those true allies that have walked beside me through my struggles and who would be the first to step up to my defense -- engage in such humor. They have earned that privilege in my mind, so I choose to grant it to them. But if I have not explicitly granted you that privilege, claiming it for yourself is hurtful and wrong. Joke about your own pains and struggles.
"Not that there's anything wrong with that."
This is another one of those deflective phrases that people use. It was a common catchphrase used by the WINK 106 morning show back when I lived in the Elmira area. Whenever they topic of homosexuality came up, one of the show's hosts would quickly add, "Not that there's anything wrong with that!"
Here's the thing: If you have to utter that phrase, then it's clear that even you -- or some part of you -- feels like you've said something that implies there is something wrong with being gay. People who sincerely believe that there's nothing wrong with being gay and demonstrate that belief through their words and deeds need no such disclaimer.
If you find yourself making any of the above statements -- or remember when you've made them in the past -- it's time to re-evaluate your understanding of and attitude towards non-heterosexual orientations. It's time to admit that, yes, maybe you need to address some homophobia still lurking in your thoughts. That admission does mean that you're a horrible person. But refusing to make that admission will keep you from becoming a better person. And ultimately, isn't actually becoming a better person preferable to trying to convince people you're a better person?
Notes: [1] I'm actually hesitant to use such an inclusive term for this discussion. While much of what I say is applicable to -- or can be modified to be applicable to -- intersexed, transgender, and asexual people, there are entire lists of ways that such people are additionally marginalized and othered which I will not be discussing in this post. As such, mentioning them without at least acknowledging their unique experiences where I am actually privileged strikes me as problematic.
[2] These are likely people who also operate under the mistaken belief that intent is magic.
With today's post, I want to take a look at chapter 8 of Alisa Harris's book, "Raised Right: How I Untangled my Faith from Politics." Ms. Harris selected "Judge Not" for the chapter's title, almost certainly to bring up Jesus's own injunction against judging as retold in Matthew 7. I think that the entirety of Matthew 7:1-5[1] is relevant to both the theme of chapter 7 of Ms. Harris's book and her approach to it, so I'd like to quote it here:
"Judge not, that you be not judged. For with what judgment you judge, you will be judged; and with the measure you use, it will be measured back to you. And why do you look at the speck in your brother's eye, but do not consider the plank in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, 'Let me remove the speck from your eye'; and look, a plank is in your own eye? Hypocrite! First remove the plank from your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye.
This passage does not end with simply saying, "Don't judge." It goes on to explain that whatever standard you choose to pick up and judge others with is likely to be the same standard that others turn around and judge you on. If you nit-pick others' every actions, pointing out every thing you consider to be wrong, people are likely to scour your own behavior for things to criticize. If you tend to be be more lax and easy-going, others are more likely to cut you some slack too.
Ms. Harris appears to apply this as she goes from telling her story about discovering with disbelief that some of her Christians friends are Democrats to recalling her own experiences promoting feminism and being criticized and even attacked by other Christians[3]. She describes how her promotion of feminist thought[4] and the slack both she and her employer at the time -- a Christian publication -- took a great deal of flak, and how it caused her to soften her own views on how other evangelicals might approach certain political ideas differently than she did. Her empathy enabled her to realize things are not always as stark and simplistic as one might first believe, and that a more nuanced understanding of the complexities of reality may lead rational people to complex positions that differ greatly.
I found myself more willing to believe thatpeople can hold blends of belief that seem incongruous to someone else. I could be a Christian and a feminist; someone else could be a Christian and a Democrat.
Is it any wonder that to those who want to continue seeing the world in simple terms of black and white, this kind of empathy is dangerous enough to be decried as heresy?
Notes: [1] As an aside, while looking up this passage, I noted that it comes immediately after the "don't worry about what tomorrow will bring" passage and is immediately followed by the whole "ask and you shall receive" passage and a variant on Golden Rule.[2] It seems to me that Jesus really could've titled the whole sermon something like "Silly thing that everyone does that creates more stress and problems for themselves and others."
[2] In reality, I think Jesus's "judge not" passage is actually a specialized application of/corollary to the Golden Rule anyway, which I hope comes out in the rest of this blog post.
[3] Not surprisingly, many of the fellow Christians who attacked her were men. [4] I want to wait until next week to delve more deeply into Ms. Harris's feminism, the response she received from her fellow evangelicals, and possibly even how it might have affected her. I feel it deserves attention in its own right. Plus, I'd like to offer a blogging buddy an invitation to share her insights on the topic.
As is somewhat typical for bloggers, I wanted to consider my past year of blogging today and look forward to my blogging goals and vision for the future.
Since I started this blog in 2004, I've been a sporadic blogger at best. I would have periods of time where I would post regularly -- and even multiple times a day, only to be followed by long periods -- occasionally measured in months -- of total silence. Given the personal things that were going on in my life at the beginning of this year, the year began with one of those extended periods of silence. I eventually got back to blogging sporadically, though.
In October, something happened that inspired me to make some changes here. Former Conservative offered me the opportunity to serve him as a guest-blogger over at his place while he went away. That opportunity rekindled my love of blogging. As I began to get feedback over there and enjoyed the attention, I began to realize what got me started blogging and what I had almost forgotten about -- readers.
I'll admit that because guest-blogging allowed me to see FC's site statistics, I found myself a bit envious. Because of FC's focused and disciplined blogging schedule, he had managed to garner a consistent following that blew me away. This rediscovered joy of feedback and envy pushed me to make some changes, primarily developing a regular schedule. Since then, I've made a commitment to putting up a blog post every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.[1] Since implementing this policy, I've only failed to keep this schedule for one day (December 26), and I'm already seeing positive results, as the graphs I've included with this post shows.
This year, I've also added book reviews and book analyses to my blogging activities. I've also sought to standardize the days that I write about the books I'm looking at more closely. At this point, I intend to keep Mondays as a day to blog about "Raised Right" until I am finished with that book. Fridays will similarly be dedicated to working through "The Visitation."
I'm also looking at the topics I blog about. One of the things that I will admit is that I don't think I"ll ever be focused enough to be a "single topic" blogger. My interests tend to be rather eclectic and my blog will continue to reflect that. I enjoy being able to discuss religious issues, issues important to QUILTBAG[2] people, and my recent foray's into feminist thought and issues important to women. I'm also hoping to continue writing personal posts and even exploring more about the topic of codependency in general and my own struggles with and recovery from it in particular.
I will also be re-evaluating my blog schedule at some point. I've already been thinking that I'd really like to blog every day. After all, that would give me two more posts a week to cover the wide variety of topics I want to talk about. However, I've decided to get at least another month or two under my belt with the current schedule. Five posts a week right now is pretty comfortable to me right now, at least most weeks. However, there have been a couple times that I struggled to meet that schedule. Also, given some of the topics I want to blog about, I think the time and energy I need to invest in some posts is going to increase. So it's in my best interests to maintain my current schedule for now.
Any and all readers are invited to leave a comment offering their thoughts and suggestions. If you have an opinion on my blogging schedule or my content (what you currently like, what you'd like to see (more of), etc.), please let me know. You're welcome to offer such feedback any time you feel like it, but here's a clear chance to do so.
Happy New Year. May 2012 be bright and blogworthy.
Notes: [1] I took this a step further and set a specific time to put posts up each day (9am Eastern on Saturday and 12pm Eastern the rest of the days). Over the holidays, I've had a few late posts, but I do try to keep to this as well. [2] One of the things that I want to start exploring in my personal time is trans* issues. This is both due to the fact that I'm finding myself wanting to gain a better understanding of those issues and a desire to quit being one of those gay male bloggers who claims to blog about LBGT issues and yet only ever seems to talk about gay male sexuality and issues related to gay men.
Having said that, I also note that I have a lot of learning to do when it comes to trans* issues. As such, any upcoming posts are likely to be of the "here's something interesting I've just learned and I'm trying to understand it better" rather than offering anything that should be considered even remotely authoritative on the topic.
Given that it's the last day of 2011, I want to use today's post to personally reflect on the past year, particularly my recovery with regards to being codependent. It's a topic that has been on my mind a lot the past few weeks, and was one of the contributing factors to a recent bad day I mentioned.
This isn't surprising, as the events that led to me seek therapy and uncover my codependency unfolded around this time last year. That was when things really began to spin out of control in my friendship/relationship with a young man I will call Dave, and I realized I needed to get professional help for some my own reactions. Then when things fell apart completely and I threw Dave out of my life, I went into therapy and started to really learned what codependency is and why I'm codependent.
For those who may not know what codependency is, I'd like to start with Melody Beattie's definition:
A codependent person is one who has let another person's behavior affect him or her, and who is obsessed with controlling the other person's behavior.
My only problem with Ms. Beattie's definition of what it means to be codependent is that devoid of any context, it sounds really awful. That's because being codependent is awful, in the sense that it's hell on the person who is codependent and those who are around a codependent person.
What doesn't come across in that definition very well is that "the other person's behavior" is not minor behavior. Ms. Beattie is talking about behavior that is truly out of control and usually committed by someone who does not wish to take responsibility for that behavior. Codependent people end up taking responsibility for that behavior -- usually out of a sense of obligation disguised as love -- and trying to rescue the other person from their actions and their consequences of those actions. We seek to control and "reel in" that behavior, to try to keep everything in that person's life -- and our own by extension -- from flying apart at the seams.
Dave was the last person[1] I was codependent with before getting help. He was out of control, not handling his own past well and acting out in ways that were self-destructive and destructive to those of us in his life. And for the longest time, I made excuses for him and took responsibility -- responsibility that Dave refused to take himself -- for cleaning up the resulting mess. As a result, my life fell apart -- which is pretty common for codependent people.
So I went into therapy and began to examine my own behavior, why I tended to put other people's needs before my own, and chose to attempt control other people who were out of control rather than taking care of myself. I re-examined my self-perceptions, came to understand and appreciate my own boundaries, and learned to put far more of my energy into caring for myself.
Like recovery from most things, recovery from codependency is a process, and usually a never-ending one. I still have moments where I slip into the old "care-taker" habits that marked my relationship with Dave and others. In fact, Dave and I started hanging out again -- and even started moving toward a relationship again -- as I continued my therapy. At the time, Dave seemed like a changed man, and I decided I wanted to give him another chance.
Unfortunately, I discovered appearances were deceiving toward the end of June, and that Dave was still up to his old games of deceit, manipulation, and using others (including me).[3] So I eventually told Dave it was over again and told him I would not talk to him until he got help for his problems.
Before the second separation, I had felt the old patterns come back. I had started to allow my life to center around Dave again. However, I can proudly say that things hadn't gotten as bad that time around than it was at the beginning of the year. Plus, once I saw the truth about Dave's continuing out-of-control behavior, I quickly cut it off. For a codependent person, that is a victory.
I've heard from Dave since, and my response has been even stronger. The last time I heard from him, I laid out the rules of what it would take to prove himself to me and convince me to let him back in my life. Dave didn't like the answer, said a few nasty things to me, and stormed off. I haven't heard from him since, and while I'm a bit saddened he hasn't changed, I will not accept an unchanged Dave. I cannot change him, and I do not want him back unless he chooses to change himself.
I hope that Dave will be the last person I get into such a rough and out-of-control relationship. I'd much rather find a great guy who understands and values his own integrity and a sense of responsibility. But if I do meet another guy like Dave and even start getting involved with him, I now have the sense of self-worth and the tools to recognize it and put the brakes on. And that is good enough.
Note: [1] It's important to note that my codependency developed over a long period of time and is the cumulative result of taking responsible for many people over the many years of my life. While Dave was a toxic person[2] and not good for me, it's important to note that my codependency did not start with him. Also, I am responsible for my codependency and my recovery from it now. As Ms. Beattie also says, it may not be my fault that I'm the way I am, but it's my responsibility to do something about it.
[2] It's important to note that toxic people are not worthless or irredeemable. Saying a person is toxic simply means that they choose to behave in ways that hurt other people and are often unhealthy to be around.
[3] The final straw for me was that we broke up and agreed to just be friends. I was crushed by this decision. While we were out together three days after the decision, a waitress asked if we had considered getting married, and Dave told her that we were actually engaged. That was the moment that I realized that Dave would tell any lie that suits his purpose, even if his only purpose is to get a little extra attention from a random person in a restaurant. I didn't want anyone who had such a low regard of his own integrity. Someone who can lie so easily for such a pointless reason cannot be trusted to treat others properly.
Patriarchy sucks for a lot of people. Some of those people are men. After all, patriarchy seeks to establish some sort of code on what it means to be a man and enforce it. That means that if some man -- I'll use myself as an example -- don't meet that code, we are deemed "not man enough" and are often ridiculed and mistreated by the patriarchy's many enforcers.
According to the patriarchy, my "manhood" is open for debate because:
I am terrible at sports.
I tend to be very sensitive an emotional.
I like various "girly" things.
I like kissing other men, not to mention doing other things with them.
Being teased or having my "manhood" questioned isn't fun. Like I said, not being a sufficiently sanctioned "real man" in the patriarchy sucks.
But you know what sucks even more in the patriarchy? Being a woman. This is because women are the real targets of the patriarchy.[1] The whole reason that the patriarchy wants to define what it means to be a "real man" is to set men apart from women, demonstrate that they're extra-special, and thereby justify and maintain male superiority, male privilege, and male dominance.
Patriarchy's mistreatment of me is a side effect of its real objectives, which is to wage war on women. To put it more bluntly, I'm nothing more than collateral damage.[2] Furthermore, while I may be hurt by patriarchy, I also benefit from it and the privileges being male grants me:
It's highly unlikely that my accomplishments will be overlooked or diminished by men who are more interested in how big my breasts are or how good I am in bed.
I don't have to be nearly as worried about whether the man who strikes up a conversation with me at the coffee shop will rape me because he thinks he's entitle to any man he decides to be friendly toward.
Not many people will be inclined to assume that I can't possibly be an engineer, a firefighter, a doctor, or a soldier simply because I'm a man.[3]
I don't bring this up to diminish the fact that I and other men are hurt by the patriarchy. I do, however, want to put the harm done to us into the proper context, because I feel that context recommends the best response I and other men can make.
If we are collateral damage in the patriarchy's war on women, then I think it's time to start allying ourselves with the women in that war. After all, if we're all being hurt by the patriarchy, it's time we all start fighting against that same patriarchy. And that's why I'm for promoting feminism and feminists.
This is where I think it's important to understand that as men hurt by the patriarchy, we're collateral damage rather than the actual targets, our role in this fight is also secondary. I strongly believe we need to follow the women's lead in this fight. As I said in my previous entry, we can't make this all about us, even though we will benefit in the process.[4] But we need to be willing to set aside our egos and our desire to take the center stage -- reasserting that same male privilege that the patriarchy already grants us[5] -- and work as supporters and allies.
Notes: [1] Actually, I suspect that trans* people of all types also qualify as real targets as well. After all, whereas I might question the gender policing that the patriarchy uses to enforce male superiority and dominance, trans* people reject it thoroughly and completely by having the "gall" to refuse to "stick with their rightly assigned gender."
[2] Not that this makes me or other man any less injured.
[3] People might assume that I can't do some of those things because I personally am lacking in some way as an individual. They'd be right. But there's a difference between that and assuming women can't do those same things because they're the same. I'm a man, so I get to be an individual.
[4] And despite what some may think or claim, many feminists want us men to benefit from feminism. I've heard far more women talk about how patriarchy hurts men than I've heard men talk about it.
[5] And that's the thing. It seems like a lot of men who are hurt by the patriarchy aren't ready to give up the ways in which the patriarchy still serves them. They want to be able to "like girly things" -- to pick an example -- yet still maintain some sort of special status over women. Fighting the patriarchy doesn't work like that though. You fight it all or you ca't really fight it at all.
Some time ago, I had a friend who liked to be "helpful." He loved to do nice things for others. He loved talking about all the nice things he did for other people. It got annoying rather quickly.
Mind you, there's nothing annoying about helping other people. In fact, such expressions of altruism, hospitality, and compassion are something I personally value greatly -- and think everyone should value greatly.
There's also nothing inherently wrong with sharing stories where one helps another. It's often a good way of raising awareness of the problems and needs of others. If my friend Becky mentions in passing that she gave our mutual friend Ralph some extra grocery money, I might respond by saying that I didn't realize Ralph was strapped for cash and ask if he's okay. I might even contact Ralph and ask him if there's anything else he needs.
No, the problem with my friend's behavior was that he was bragging. What's more, it quickly became clear that his intentions were not so much to help others but to draw attention to himself in that "look at what a great guy I am" sort of way. In time, I began wondering if he cared about the people he helped at all beyond a way to show off what a great guy he was.
I thought of this friend as I got involved in a conversation over at Fannie's Room regarding those people who wish to be seen as, to paraphrase Fannie, heroic allies of women or racial minorities (or QUILTBAG people or any other marginalized group) for the simplest and most basic things while they ignore subtler, more complex, and equally important (not to mention more common) manifestations of marginalization.
While I certainly agreed with the point Fannie was making, I took it one step further:
You know, I never really got this mentality. I have no desire to be a "heroic feminist ally." Quite frankly, doing so would strike me as making being a feminist ally all about me. (Do I really need to spell out why this is problematic?) Personally, I'd much prefer feminists give me an honest critique of where I do well and where I need to improve.
I want to expand on that point. When a person is acting as an ally to others, it's not about them, and it's inappropriate and rude to make it about them. People who wish to be an ally -- whether it's an ally to women, QUILTBAG people, racial minorities, or some other group -- need to understand this fact quite clearly. Without doing so, one isn't much of an ally.
On those occasions that I write about feminist issues as a man -- or should I ever right about trans* issues as a cisgender man or racial issues as a white man -- I don't do so in order to gain praise. I do so to help out women (or trans* people or people of other races), and I believe I wholeheartedly have a duty to do my best to help them. Part of helping them means not drawing attention to or accolades for myself in the process.
That's why of all the blog posts I've ever written, the blog posts I write about women are probably the ones I think hardest about and fret the most over. It's easy for me to write one about gay male sexuality, Pagan spirituality, or my past experiences as a fundamentalist. I'm intimately familiar with those subjects on a personal level. When I write about issues that affect women, I'm writing about someone else's experiences and struggles as an outsider. That calls for great care and attention, because it's not about me at all.
I'm not a big fan of Clay Aiken's rendition of this song, but my selection of YouTube videos was severely limited. I first ran into "Merry Christmas with Love" back in the ninth grade (that's be the 1988-1989 school year, for those of you who might be wondering) when our chorus teacher announced it as one of the songs we would be singing it as part of our Christmas concert. I was deeply touched and moved by the central story and message of the song.[1]
In a small, not-exactly-the-same sort of way, I can also understand the sentiment on a personal level. Since my mother began working at a hospital several years ago, Christmas has often been a bit strange in our home, and Christmas day itself often doesn't seem like Christmas day. Take this year as a good example of what I'm talking about. My mother has to head to work at around 1pm. Because of this, my parents and I celebrated our Christmas yesterday, exchanging gifts and having our big dinner. As such, this morning feels like most other days, with my mother getting ready for work and me thinking about my impending drive back to Rochester after lunch. When I used to live at home, such years were even odder, as my father and I would look at each other after Mom left for work and wonder "what do we do with the rest of our day."
I can only imagine how much stranger it is for those people who don't have loved ones around them at all during this season. It must be difficult. I actually admire some friends who discovered that a mutual friend had no Christmas plans and invited him to their house. We should all have that sense of compassion for others.
So, dear readers, may you have a Merry Christmas. If you find yourself surrounded by loved ones, hold them a little closer in appreciation. And if you find yourself alone, drop me a line. It's not much, but at least you'll know someone cares enough to talk.
Note: [1] This is actually why don't like Aiken's rendition of it. I felt he tried to "dress it up" way too much with his vocal talent. Yeah, he's a pretty good singer, but sometimes, the song itself is more important than how amazingly one can belt it out. When the latter starts to detract from the former, there's a problem.
When I was younger, I had trouble sleeping on Christmas Eve. I would lay in bed thinking about all the presents I would be getting, wondering which of the toys and other things I asked for would actually be waiting under the tree for me the next morning. The anticipation would keep my mind wound up too much to allow it to slip into unconsciousness.
As I grew older, the problem faded. As I got older, the magic of all those presents began to wear off -- to the point where as an adult, my first thought when family members ask for gift suggestions is occasionally, "great, more crap I don't really need and don't have a place to put anyway." This is good, as I'm not sure that I could handle the sleep deprivation now as well as I did back when I could still count my age using only my hands.
I admit, though, that the anticipation of giving has also grown since then. There's something special about knowing that when someone opens that almost perfect gift[1] their expression and reaction may actually light up the room. It's an anticipation that doesn't keep me awake half of Christmas Eve,[2] but it's something that gives me that extra thrill and desire to go on.
I also think there's something to be said for anticipating the joy of another person, as it takes us outside of ourselves for that moment and makes us more other-focused. Sharing in the joys of others adds to both our joy and theirs, and it makes life that much better.
What joys do you share? What things do you anticipate, both during this season and throughout the world? Have you ever had that moment where you're looking forward to something so much that you can't sleep? Can't concentrate on your job? (Don't worry, I won't tell your supervisor.)
Note: [1] This reminds me, I need to answer my own question on a recent open thread.
[2] In fairness, this is at least in part due to the fact that I'm not (quite) as hyper or excitable as I was in my youth.
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