Tag: Feminism

Sick Days and the Blues

You may have noticed that I haven’t been blogging as regularly over these past few weeks. You see, I’ve been ill, and between sinus, eye, and now possibly ear infections, my uterus trying to kill me, anemia, dizziness, and exhaustion I haven’t been able to stare at a screen for very long without my head getting floaty. Sigh.

But in the midst of this, today, I still want to blog. Because this is real life, right? We get sick. Our bodies rebel against us. We have to miss work sometimes (I HATE missing work) and we have to rest sometimes (which is not nearly as fun as it sounds if you’re not feeling well) and we have to trust that God is still at work in our lives when we are quarantined and can’t go anywhere or talk to anyone in person.

Today, on top of the illnesses and weaknesses, I am feeling blue. One of the benefits of being ill is I’ve been sleeping in and have missed my usual morning podcasts. I’ve been limiting my screen time so I don’t get dizzy, and therefore haven’t been paying as much attention to the news. But this morning when a local city voted down California’s Sanctuary City laws, and Christian men that I know and respect posted about it in glee, I was done. The tears I’ve been holding in for weeks fell. Seeing Christians celebrate harming people, separating children from their parents, and turning against the beauty that the word “sanctuary” supplies, which should be part of every Christian’s life, just broke my heart. “What happened to compassion?” my mum just breathed in a deep, soul-wrenching sigh.

I tweeted about it, but daren’t post on Facebook because I’ve gotten some brutal backlash there before for posting my “liberal” ideas and I honestly don’t have the energy to deal with that right now.

The battle within me about whether or not I can remain a part of the white evangelical church rages continuously.

A friend’s recent experience at a Biblical Counseling conference in her city isn’t helping. She was texting back and forth with me throughout the day, part excitement for the excellent talks given on anxiety and depression, and part dismay for her experience as a single woman there. She went up to speak with the youngish male director, and right away his wife came and joined the conversation very awkwardly.

She texted “I feel like in some Christian settings girls can’t talk to guys. Like I felt awkward when she joined in some way. Like I can’t control that I am a girl or that I don’t have a ring on my finger. But I am not a threat and I felt that perception in that moment. And if I was a guy with an MABC [Master of Arts in Biblical Counseling, which this friend and I both have] they would be thrilled.”

My response: “Yeah. Being a mature, single, educated Christian woman in evangelical circles can be so awkward. I kinda want to wear a sign saying ‘I’m not trying to steal your husband. Calm down.’”

Friend: “I feel like sometimes I am only seen as a threat or someone with ulterior motives or a temptation instead of a person.

Me: “We should make t-shirts!”

Friend: I was going to Master’s Seminary library once. I had to write a 20 page research paper and only the seminary had the books I needed to check out. And the ladies at the circulation desk made a comment about me finding a husband and I felt like as a non-seminary wife, everyone there would think that I just wanted to look for a husband instead of purely intending to study the Bible. I wanted to wear a ring on my ring finger to avoid that perception and awkwardness.”

Me: “Yeah. They did that when I had to work the Shepherd’s Conference. Sigh.”

Friend: 

One of the many sad parts about this conversation with my incredibly intelligent and very conservative (way more conservative than me!) friend was that instead of discussing the wonderful resources for anxiety and depression she’d learned about, or expressing her joy for being accepted into the new Biblical Counseling center as a potential counseling volunteer, she left feeling awkward and unwanted, and possibly even like a threat.

Welcome to how so many of us often feel around other Christians these days: awkward and unwanted, and possibly even like a threat.

But instead of despairing completely, I’ve reached out to some of my closest friends for prayer. My dog snuggled me until I laughed again, not leaving me alone until I was smiling. Our roses and primroses are blooming, and I can enjoy them because they’re some of the flowers my sinuses are cool with. I’m brewing a cup of my favorite apple cinnamon tea. And I will remind myself of God’s love and goodness, remind myself that God does not look at refugees, immigrants, and unmarried women like we are awkward and unwanted, but with compassion and deep deep love.

Psalm 9 speaks to me today. It is long, so I’ll leave you with verses 1-2, 7-11, and 18:

“I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart; I will recount all of your wonderful deeds. I will be glad and exult in you; I will sing praise to your name, O Most High . . . But the Lord sits enthroned forever; he has established his throne for justice, and he judges the world with righteousness; he judges the peoples with uprightness. The Lord is a stronghold for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble. And those who know your name put their trust in you, for you, O Lord, have not forgotten those who seek you. Sing praises to the Lord, who sits enthroned in Zion! Tell among the peoples his deeds! . . . For the needy shall not always be forgotten, and the hope of the poor shall not perish forever.”

The Invisible Woman

This week, after a particularly long day consisting of going to 3 of my 4 jobs on top of a raging sinus infection, I swung by my mailbox as I often do before pulling into my driveway. This time, however, one of my neighbors drove up from the other side of the street as I was walking back toward my car from the postal boxes, and blocked me in with his gigantic truck. He parked it illegally in the middle of the street right next to my car, even though there were no other cars present and thus plenty of space on either side of me, turned his engine off, got out, walked to his mailbox, got the mail, all while I had to do a complicated 5 point turn just to pull away and get home. I have never spoken to this man but to do a friendly neighborly wave or head nod here and there. I do not know him. He does not know me. I can only surmise why he did this.

Possible Reason #1: He didn’t even see me enough to realize he’d blocked me in. He was so preoccupied by whatever was on his mind or phone that he literally had no idea what he did.

Possible Reason #2: He purposefully chose to block me in because he either doesn’t like me, he felt he deserved to be the only one at the mailboxes, he felt powerful blocking me in, or some other nefarious plot.

Possible Reason #3: He seriously just didn’t care. He didn’t care about me, didn’t care he’d blocked me in. He just did what was most convenient for him and couldn’t care less that it inconvenienced me.

Sadly, my best guess is that it was done for Reason #3. And, while I realize this sort of thing happens to men as well, I bet if I had been a man in this situation my neighbor would have treated me differently and stopped his giant truck earlier so as not to box me in. You see, as a single woman with no man, I am no threat to him. I can be a nonentity.

One of the more frustrating aspects of single womanhood is so often being overlooked, frequently treated as if I’m invisible or voiceless. I don’t have a man to defend me or speak on my behalf. I don’t have testosterone behind me to threaten or protect.

I am horrified that this is this is even an issue. How is it still possible that often men and sometimes women treat single women like we somehow matter less, like our opinions or our very presence is negligible compared to theirs?

This is a struggle for me. When instances like this happen, I battle different responses. What I wanted to do when that man pinned my car in was yell at him, maybe even calling him a few choice words to his face. Instead, I got in my car, safely shut the door and locked it, then proceeded to mumble a few British terms like sodding git and worse, shoot my teacher look at him, then awkwardly back up and pull forward inch by inch repeatedly until I could get my car out of the tiny space available. Bitterness built up in my heart and, to be honest, still lingers as I write this.

And yes, I know, bitterness is wrong. I’m not perfect. Welcome to the life of the Awkward Spinster and my continual journey of progressive sanctification, aka humanity.

I can’t imagine how much pent up bitterness must exist in the hearts of those who are even more overlooked or stepped over – minorities, the elderly, the homeless, those who are disabled. As a white single woman in the US, these experiences are still limited compared to so many others.

Because I have always been a single woman, I’ve developed some coping mechanisms to battle this involuntary invisibility cloak. I’ve noticed lately that I often feel like I have to prove myself, prove that what I have to say is worth being heard, prove I deserve a spot in the room (or the street). I trot out my age, experience, and education more than I should. I know this. But because I look so young and have no kids and no husband, people constantly assume I am young and inexperienced and men, in particular, often don’t take me seriously right away.

When the first question asked women is often “Do you have kids?” and then “Are you married?” I guess it’s easy to assume that negative answers somehow equal naivete or lack of wisdom and experience. The phrase “I’m almost 40” comes trippingly off my tongue at least once a day in an effort to counteract this. My closest friends and family probably roll their eyes at its frequency.

Perhaps this is more about my own personal insecurities than a commentary on how many people in modern society treat single adult women, but I think there’s more to it than that. I’ve seen this happen with other forever-single ladies as well as with women after getting divorced or once their husbands die.

As I’ve reflected over the past couple of years, I realize I’ve gotten louder. I hate this about myself because I was already quite loud. Even one of my nephews, when he was little and had absolutely no volume control, whined “Auntie Fawn, you’re too loud!” once, to the amusement of my entire family. When I look back at why I’ve become so loud when I wasn’t a particularly loud child, I think it stems from constantly having to prove myself. As the 4th of 5 children in a decidedly opinionated family whose favorite pastime is discussing and debating, I guess it was inevitable. It’s speak up, interject, jump in the conversation, or fade away.

Since my early 20’s, I’ve always held jobs in which being the established authority figure in the room was not only helpful, but necessary. From social work to teaching, I had to be the trustworthy, respected adult for the safety and well-being of everyone present. I had to be able to stand eye to eye with a client’s slumlord and convince him not to evict her and her children, quiet a room of 30 plus teenagers in seconds, or assure a counselee that I could actually help her when it seemed hopeless. When I speak, I speak with authority. And it is often loud, passionate, and full of conviction.

But sometimes I’d like to walk into a new environment and just be respected for being a human being. Just be seen and taken into consideration without having to convince people that I should, indeed, be able to fill the space in which I stand (or am parked). And this is why I think this is more of a female struggle than a male one. Again, I do think men probably deal with this a bit as well, but I think every woman out there has to deal with this more frequently. And I think every perpetually single woman knows this experience deeply.

Let me make this clear: a woman’s value is not found in her husband or her children. Human life is inherently valuable. In his work “The Weight of Glory”, C.S. Lewis makes this profound statement:

“It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you say it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree helping each other to one or the other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all of our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations – These are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit – immortal horrors or everlasting splendors.” 

One of the saddest parts about this is that the one place in which this shouldn’t be an issue, the church, this invisibility cloak is sometimes at its strongest and we are constantly forgetting the fact that we are never talking to “mere mortals.” Rather than being the safe space where every human is seen as valuable because they were created by God in his image, church can end up perpetuating the myth of a woman’s credibility stemming from her roles as wife and mother alone. Yes, I know, not all churches. But current trends in Christian culture in the US can silence voices that do not occur inside the traditional Christian family structure.

I know a lot of single women develop thick skins over the years, and are often seen as lacking qualities we’re apparently meant to have to snag a husband – softness, sweetness, nurture, and other stereo-typically feminine character traits. (Oh my gosh, I just Googled “feminine character traits” and am now determined to be even more of a feminist than ever! Blerg.) The number of times a single adult woman is told she might just be too intimidating for the men around her is gag-inducing. Perhaps we’ve just had a lot of those characteristics ground out of us after years of having to hold our own. Perhaps those traits are actually still there, as our closest friends can attest to, but you just won’t let us display it because we’re in defensive survival mode all the time.

I don’t have a solution for the whole church, but I do know it starts with each of us working a little harder to notice those around us who might be overlooked. It starts with neighbors noticing cars they might be blocking in just to save themselves 2 seconds of having to walk 2 steps further to the mailbox. It starts with assuming our companies have hired the newbie for some darn good reasons, so giving them some respect even before they’ve proven themselves. It starts with assuming the single woman in your Bible study may have a heck of a lot more life experience than you can fathom and maybe asking her about it rather than assuming she’s young and naive. It starts by treating each human we come across like the precious creation of God they are.

As God’s children we are meant to “in humility count others more significant than yourselves” (Philippians 2:3). Let’s start by removing the invisibility cloaks we like to throw on people who might not seem quite as important to us. Let’s start by becoming a people who truly see others.

The Church’s Silencing of Single Women

This morning, as I grabbed a seat in my Sunday school class, a man stopped as he walked by to read the button on my purse. With a quizzical look, he read, “Hear Our Voice” and looked up to me for explanation. I happily stated, “it’s from the women’s march a couple weeks ago.” His eyes grew wide, and he literally started to back away from me saying, “have a nice day” as he turned and walked away. Like a big alarm had gone off for him, blaring “Do Not Engage!!!”

Many thoughts went through my head as I watched him flee in fear of me. Deep sadness at knowing I was, yet again, judged for being a “liberal” in this conservative town. Amusement at his discomfort. Grief that the conversation hadn’t continued because it could have been an awesome one. And the resigned exasperation of yet another woman who rarely gets a chance to be heard in the church, to explain herself, to be taken seriously. I thought, if I’d had a husband standing by my side, the conversation probably would have gone on much longer and perhaps could have even led to greater mutual understanding.

As a woman in the evangelical church, my role is limited already. I cannot be in leadership positions over men, can’t be a pastor or elder, apparently can’t even serve communion at most churches. Many churches who allow for women to be deacons will only have a couple, and they’re usually the heads of children’s ministries. Female representation is rare as these churches are usually led by all-male elder boards and sermons are taught by all-male pastors. A female perspective isn’t included in this picture. Yeah, they might run some things by their wives from time to time, but the vast majority of day to day decision making and sermonizing is from an entirely male perspective. It’s not that they’re trying to preach from a male-oriented view, it’s that they don’t even realize a different view could exist in the church. Their way of teaching, their way of reading, their way of applying the Bible is the right way. The idea that women might see things differently, yet still be biblically accurate, would seem heretical.

I’m not going to get into a complementarian vs egalitarian debate in this post, as that’s not the point. Whether you believe female leadership is biblically okay or biblically forbidden is another matter entirely. I’m just stating that much of the evangelical church has this hierarchy in leadership, and women’s voices are pretty low down the ladder. Here’s my added argument: that the voices of single women are even lower still.

As a woman without the headship of a husband, I can be seen as a threat. I don’t have a husband to reign me in, to filter my thoughts and speech. Adult single women in the church can even be seen as dangerous, like talking to us can be risky. Risky for the wives, because our independent ways might rub off on them. Risky for the husbands, because we single women must be on the hunt for a man so might try to seduce them away from their marriages. Risky for the church, because we might be upstarts and rebels.

While women in general often do not merit the level of respect in the church that men do, single women get even less. Married women can be respected because of their husbands, that association protects and lifts them up. After all, in many evangelical churches today, the highest calling for a woman is as wife and mother – so if you’re fulfilling this calling, you have earned honor. And while I agree that being a wife and mother can be an epically awesome way to glorify God, holding it up as the gold standard over the heads of those of us who just can’t quite seem to get married or have kids, who aren’t the perfect little homemakers, is a pretty horrible thing to do. Sorry, but we can’t all be the Joanna Gaineses of the world.

Single men can suffer voicelessness to a certain level as well, for they can be seen as irresponsible and immature. The mark of a Real Man in the church is often that you are husband and father, and if you don’t fit this mold by a certain age, you need to “be a man” and “settle down.” Though single men are much less likely to actually be hired by a church than their married counterparts, they are still more likely to have positions of influence than any woman, married or single, and single women are definitely the bottom of the barrel.

There are individual churches that work hard to hear women’s voices, even those of single women. I’ve been lucky enough to be part of churches like that. But this seems to be the exception more than the rule.

Two weeks ago, as I stood side by side with almost 600,000 other women in the streets of Downtown Los Angeles, I felt like my voice might actually be heard. Yes, I am different from many of the women there – I am a Christian feminist. But the response to my sign was 100% positive, with many people commenting on it, wanting pictures of it, and telling me they were just like me, were glad I was there, or were so excited to see that represented. Surrounded by women who often feel voiceless, and men and children who wanted to give us the chance to be heard, was a profound and beautiful experience. But no one in the church will discuss this with me. No one will even ask about it. No one from church commented on my social media pictures, no one asked questions, no one even tried to debate my going. Because what does it matter? I’m just one single woman. My thoughts and ideas don’t make a dent in the church.

I realize this post is a bit more emotionally charged than usual – it is not researched and backed up by Bible verses. But guys, I’ve got to tell you, it’s incredibly demoralizing to feel silenced over and over again. To feel like the very church I’ve grown up in, been educated in, have served and ministered in, and thrived in often sees me as someone to be silenced, or maybe just ignored.

I’ve considered, very seriously, just leaving the modern evangelical church altogether and seeking out more progressive pastures, as most of the single women bloggers and writers out there have done. I get the appeal. I’m drawn to it. But my heart, and my head still belong to the reformed church. This rebellious liberal is actually quite theologically conservative. Shocking, I know. So I can’t bring myself to jump ship. Besides, if everyone who is struggling with the post-Trump views subtly (or obviously) infusing the American evangelical church today leaves, what will become of it? If we all run away, will we not be partially complicit for allowing these poisonous views to grow and thrive?

Or maybe this feminist Christian will just chuck it all and move somewhere I can happily be a liberal Christian, drink wine with communion, and go to women’s marches with a whole truck load of my fellow church-goers. Who knows.

For now, I’ve decided to be a gently squeaking wheel in the machine I’ve so loved. Maybe, just maybe, if I’m at my new church a little longer, make more friends, get more involved in ministry, maybe, just maybe, my voice will be heard. Maybe, if enough of us speak up, if enough single women share our concerns with love and grace, the church will take us more seriously. Maybe, if we stick around trying to help the vulnerable, lift up the weak, and love the least loved in policy and practice, the church will follow our example. Yeah, we’re not supposed to be in leadership, but persistent examples of Godly love for others are hard to ignore.

To all the non-singles in the church, I challenge you to listen. Just listen. Ask your single brothers and sisters in Christ questions and listen to their answers without trying to “solve” their concerns. If you are in leadership in a church, ask yourself how you can give single women a platform, how you can help them grow and teach and speak and minister. Find ways to involve women in the decision making aspects of the church. Run sermon ideas by women to see how they’ll come across to the other half of the audience. Get creative. Consider that only getting input from those who represent 1/2 the congregation might not work. Consider that single people have as much to offer the church as married ones. Just ponder the possibility. Start there.

My challenge to all the single Christians out there is to make your voices heard. Become so involved in the ministries and day to day lives of your churches that they can’t help but listen. Help peel away the prejudiced views that have been built up over decades regarding the value of singleness in the church and in the world. Do not allow yourselves to be silenced, but with humility and grace, keep speaking.

I end this post somewhere between heartbreak and hope.