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.
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’ve had a few ideas for a post running around in my head for a few days now. I want to explore how gender is treated in modern Paganism, how a binary view of gender[2] influences Paganism (most notably Wicca and those traditions closely related to it), and whether it’s a good or bad thing. However, that post is nowhere near ready to go up. However, thinking about the topic brought up a recent memory that I’d like to reflect on.
Earlier this year, Z. Budapest came to our town and held a tarot workshop at Psychic’s Thyme, in which each woman in attendance received a personal reading from Ms. Budapest. The event was well attended and from all reports I’ve heard, it was a great success.
As the event approached, I had many customers at the shop ask me if I was planning to attend. I’d simply smile and point out that I would not be attending, as the workshop was for women only, and express hope that they would have a good time at the workshop.
Apparently, during the workshop, one of the women decided to ask Ms. Budapest why she had made the event women only. She started her reply by explaining that this was a special event intended to strengthen and nurture women, and that part of that was giving them a special place free with men. I’m totally on board with her on all of those points. While I certainly would have enjoyed to meet and learn from someone as experienced and renowned as Ms. Budapest, I agree that — especially in our patriarchal society that tends to devalue and marginalize women — it makes perfect sense to say, “some things are just for the women because they deserve it.”
The ending of her explanation was a bit more problematic to me. Part of her argument was that men already have a “special place” that caters to them. She went on to say that the place in question is known as the Vatican.
As I said, I have no problem with women-only events and spaces. In fact, I highly approve of them. However, I do take issue with the suggestion — even if done in jest — that as a man, I have my own space within the Catholic church.
The first — somewhat obvious in my opinion — with that suggestion is that as a gay man, I’m not a “proper man” in the eyes of the Vatican. I don’t meet their understandings of what the proper role of men is, at least when it comes to terms of sexual behavior.[3] In short, I don’t meet the Catholic standards of manhood and would find any attempt to do so terribly painful. As I’ve heard some feminists say, patriarchy is hell on women in particular, but it’s ultimately not good for anyone.
That actually brings me to my second issue with the suggestion. If patriarchal institutions like Catholicism aren’t good for anyone — or even if they were bad for women and perfectly fine for men in general and me in particular — why would I want to take part in it, thereby supporting its continuation.
There are a lot of patriarchal institutions out there, and the problem isn’t just the Catholic church. Some of those institutions — like my career field — would be hard, if not impossible to simply walk away from. I have to deal with the fact that I’m a part of them — and I try my best not to feed into their patriarchal nature and even do what little I can think of to help break it down. But I have no reason or need to be a part of Catholicism, and I certainly don’t want to support or endorse its institutionalized patriarchy.[4]
If I’m going to seek out a male-only, male-affirming space, I’d much rather find one that has figured out how to be male-affirming without doing so at women’s expense.
Note: [1] And I pray for the day I figure out how to stop doing so altogether. Even unintentionally.
[2] Though it may be more accurate to say that polarities are discussed in gendered terms, but that’s something that needs a full post to explore.
[3] I suspect that’s not the only place the Catholic church might take issue with my “masculinity,” however.
[4] Plus, there’s a good bit of Catholic theology I disagree with, being a Vanic witch and all.
Trigger Warning: Brief mentions of homophobia, transphobia, racism, misogyny, and rape culture.
There’s a lot of good material to discuss in chapter seven of “Raised Right: How I Untangled my Faith from Politics” by Alisa Harris. However, for today’s post, I want to focus on the following statement, made toward the end of the chapter:
Our gayness, blackness, whiteness, femaleness are not parts of a complete identity but our whole identity, elevated from an accident of birth to a political credo. We become misshapen when all the spiritual and intellectual parts of our identity become merely political.
There have been a number of instances in the book so far where Ms. Harris has offered some wonderful and self-reflective insights into her experiences with conservative Christianity, only to incorrectly — in my opinion at least — projects those insights onto liberals, feminists, QUILTBAG people, and others. As this particular instance is especially egregious in my mind, I want to take the time to draw attention to it.
There may be some truth, at least in some instances, to Ms. Harris’s suggestion that one’s race, gender identity, sexual orientation, or some other aspect of one’s life that tends to take central stage, possibly to the exclusion of others. As a gay man, I am particularly fond of the following line spoken by John Mahoney’s character in “The Broken Hearts Club:”
Sometimes I wonder what you boys would do if you weren’t gay. You’d have no identity. It was easy when you couldn’t talk about it. Now it’s all you talk about. You talk about it so much that you forget about all the other things that you are.
However, I think it’s important to understand why this is often the case, which Timothy Olyphant’s character in the same movie explains so well. To paraphrase[1], he suggests that a lot of gay guys tend to spend so much time hiding, denying, and even trying to change who they are that when they finally come to accept their orientation, they feel like they “have a lot of catching up to do.”
I think we can expand on that sentiment by considering the way in which people are marginalized, repressed, and dehumanized for being gay, female, trans* or a racial minority. Whether we look at racism, transphobia, homophobia, or misogyny, the message that many in our society — and the system itself — sends to many such people is clear: “You are not fully human because of who you are.”
When someone’s basic humanity is constantly[2] diminished, challenged, and denied because of some aspect of zirself then it is perfectly reasonable that defending zir humanity from those attacks, which means focusing on that aspect of zirself. For women, racial minorities, and QUILTBAG people, defending their rights and devoting significant amounts of time is a matter of self-respect and even survival. Comparing the amount of time that such marginalized people spend on those endeavors to the endeavors of the conservative political efforts — efforts that often translate to the continuing marginalization of other people, is dubious at best.
I am thankful that Ms. Harris has rethought many of her previously held positions and untangled her faith from her politics. However, when it comes to considering the plight of marginalized people and how they choose to handle that plight, I think she needs to think things through a bit more.
Notes: [1] Unfortunately, I couldn’t find an exact quote online.
[2] And the constant presence of such othering of various groups is something that people who do not belong to those groups[3] often miss.
[3] And this is true among the various marginalized groups, even. For example, I’m constantly amazed at just how pervasive the rape culture and other forms of misogyny is as I read feminist blogs. Being gay does not automatically sensitize me to the struggles others face.
Warren Throckmorton is Associate Professor of Psychology at conservative Grove City College and the creator of the Sexual Identity Therapy Framework, a set of guidelines for therapists who wish to help gay people of faith (particularly a more conservative form of Christianity) to reconcile their sexuality with their faith.
Recently, Dr. Throckmorton wrote a blog post in which he discussed Christian media sources to refrain from discussing or even mentioning recent studies relating to sexual orientation. The entire post (and the rest of his blog) is well worth reading, and is one of the reasons I respect Dr. Throckmorton. As fellow gay blogger, Pomoprophet, put it while covering this post:
Throckmorten[sic] (though he doesn’t fully agree with me) is the type of Evangelical Christian that I can actually respect. He is informed and thoughtful. When he talkes about “defending truth is the name of Jesus” he does so with the best data available on “the truth”, not merely conservative talking points that fit nicely into his narrow view of the world. I find it ironic that many Evangelicals shun one of their own because he reports the facts and the studies and calls them on their anti-gay animus.
The fact that Dr. Throckmorton has faced much criticism from his fellow evangelicals — some have even pressured Grove City College to terminate his employment there — for his honesty and his integrity makes his commitment to both all the more admirable. However, I would like to suggest that in this post, Dr. Throckmorton has gone beyond simply standing up for the truth, but acting in what some Christians might consider a prophetic role. Consider this quote from his blog post:
Many evangelicals get their information from NARTH through groups like Family Research Council, Focus on the Family, Exodus International, etc. Others get information from Christian media. However, these studies are not reported in these places. No wonder most evangelicals approach sexual orientation with a 1990s mindset. It is as if the evangelical world is in blackout mode when it comes to current studies on sexual orientation.
Dr. Throckmorton is not merely standing up for the truth, but he is calling out those here are hiding the truth, misconstruing it, or even lying about it. This has become an endemic problem among many evangelical leaders (for more examples of this, simply check out a half dozen other posts from Dr. Throckmorton’s blog, an equal number from Fred Clark’s blog, and my own post from Wednesday.)
Note however, that Dr. Throckmorton’s prophetic warning is not merely aimed at those leaders who would either leave their followers in ignorance or even actively deceive them. His warning to those followers is also clear: Do not assume that your leaders are being honest with you just because they’re standing in front of a cross. It is up to those who value truth to verify the veracity of what they’re being told for themselves. To do otherwise is to play some small part in their own deception.
Thank you, Dr. Throckmorton, for being such a voice for integrity and justice.
The thoughts of a gay witch living in upstate New York.