There's a fly in the soup; there is patriarchy in my religion

As the information under my picture suggests, I am a fan of people who devote their lives to unpopular causes. Perhaps I should add: even if I disagree with them.

I applaud actress Kirsten Dunst for speaking up about femininity and the definition of womanhood (even if I don’t entirely agree with how she defines these things):

I feel like the feminine has been a little undervalued. We all have to get our own jobs and make our own money, but staying at home, nurturing, being the mother, cooking—it's a valuable thing my mom created. And sometimes you need your knight in shining armor. I'm sorry. You need a man to be a man and a woman to be a woman. That's why relationships work.

I occasionally read PluggedIn movie reviews. It’s sponsored by Focus on the Family, but the reviews can be snarky and funny. I take issue with their response to Ms. Dunst’s words:

“[Dunst’s] viewpoint is increasingly challenged these days, and it's harder and harder to see the proper path forward while still holding tight to the past, to the traditions God Himself initiated.”

Read their full article here. Some of the comments are excellent.

My head is spinning as I try to remember where in the Bible it states that all women must be stay-at-home mothers and let their husbands be the sole breadwinners. I don’t even recall where it states that all women HAVE to become mothers. As a soon-to-be-married woman who doesn’t want kids (for now), it troubles me to think of the reactions I might face when I try shopping for a new church where my fiancé lives. Any attitude suggesting women have to be this or that is an automatic dealbreaker.

I cannot understand how it’s “unbiblical” for marriages to be treated as partnerships, where each couple makes decisions that are best for them and their families; why it’s considered unreasonable in many conservative circles for men to help out with chores and child-rearing; why a woman choosing to have a career is accused of neglecting her children. I went to daycare as a kid while my mom worked; I think I turned out okay. When my dad got sick and had to retire, mom took over financially. Do ultra-conservatives somehow believe they are above that possibility?

But no matter which path you choose, there is disdain to be met at every turn. The disdain for women who choose to be stay-at-home mothers is also backlash in the face of feminism. It has to stop.

I can’t deny that these attitudes have a direct impact on my faith and the way I relate to Jesus. Even though I firmly believe Jesus valued women (he saved the life of one about to be stoned for adultery, per Old Testament law, after all), if other Christians who claim to represent him cannot allow for equality in their definition of womanhood, then the result is simple: the church will have no women.

Respect, dignify, and above all, listen to individual women and their stories, or we leave the church. Engage with us in discussion and consider the impact of our leadership skills, or we leave the church. Maybe not all of us in droves, but this particular woman will pack her bags if things do not change.

I know this wouldn’t happen on a large enough scale to wake people up. Sadly, there are plenty of women perpetuating anti-feminist viewpoints, because they have never been taught what feminism is supposed to be: a radical notion that women are people; an idea that goes beyond politics, religious differences, and social status.

Ironically, I have met more women lately who actively promote patriarchy (like this woman who told me "We don't need feminism in America!"). They look at me like I’m holding a dead squirrel when I dare to admit I am a feminist. That, too, must stop. 

Always have to wear with a cross. Always.

When cynicism throws coffee in your face

While some days are worse than others, I’ve been stuck in an “I hate people” funk for over a year. I’ve had so many moments where I questioned my decision to stay in Colorado, because I left my closest friends in Cleveland. Not a large number of people, but a select few I know I can count on in dire circumstances. Tell secrets to. Look stupid in front of.

It’s been a slow process finding those people in Denver. Today, at my favorite coffee shop, someone I know from seminary waved at me from across the room like I was her best friend – someone who repeatedly told me, “Let’s get coffee!” but never responded to a single call or text about when to make that happen.

I hate people, I thought as I waved back.

The only table that happened to be available was tucked in a corner. Not my favorite spot, but an outlet and bathroom were nearby: two absolute necessities. I set up camp there, preparing to stay there for a few hours editing the first draft of my newest manuscript. With my laptop open and headphones in (even with no music playing) I’m pretty sure I had my DO NOT DISTURB ME vibes in full motion.

I typed furiously for about thirty minutes when I looked up, and saw someone I didn’t know (could have been my age, but I’m horrible at guessing people’s ages) saying something in my direction. Initially annoyed, I ripped out my headphones and said, “Yes?” as politely as I could muster.

“I’ve seen you here before,” she said. “I was wondering if maybe you wanted to join me and my friend at that table over there?”

She points to the table I always hope to get when I come here – but it was occupied when I arrived.

I weighed my options: how much editing will I get done if I’m sitting with two people who will expect me to make some kind of introduction about myself? But then again, how choosy can I afford to be when people are attempting to make friends with me?

Honestly? Not very.  It’s been easier to keep to myself to avoid disappointment and stick to my best “friends” that only exist in books. But something about this person’s face convinced me this was a chance I had to take.

Screw your paranoia, Sarahbeth. Go make some friends. So I packed up my stuff, and joined their table.

I did get some editing done: not as much as I would have liked, but the time lost on that project was made up for with riveting discussion about whether it’s polite to eavesdrop on conversations that are happening a mere few feet away from you, and if people have the right to be offended if you insert your own opinion, because there’s no such thing as an expectation of private conversation in crowded coffeehouses.

“Sometimes I can’t help but say something,” I told my new tablemates, *Susie and *Milton.  “Depends on the subject matter. If people are showing extreme ignorance then I feel like it’s an obligation. Because stupid can be contagious.”

And this, Sarahbeth, is why you don’t have a lot of friends. That kind of honesty gets you in trouble.

“That’s hilarious,” laughed Milton. Leaning toward Susie, he asked, “Where did you find this one?”

“Back in that corner,” Susie answered, smiling.

We didn’t leave exchanging numbers or Facebook usernames, but we did part with an expectation that “maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime.”

I have no idea if I’ll ever see those two again. But even if I don’t, it’s nice to be reminded every now and then that people are capable of surprising you.

If you're able to read this, you're not actually "poor"

There’s quite a bit to get pissed off about when scrolling through Facebook updates, but this article really got me: an article about the top ten most “useless” college majors. “Uselessness” was essentially defined by how much – or rather, how little – you’d earn from any job in those fields.

Surprise surprise, English Literature was up there (but surprisingly not the most worthless: that honor went to journalism, my second choice of majors). But what articles like that fail to take into consideration is the motivation for choosing such majors: clearly, you have to be more motivated by passion than money.

Maybe I would be financially better off in an accounting job, or marketing. I’d be richer, but a lot more miserable. Those jobs are a good fit for plenty of people, but I’d be putting my gifts and talents to waste in an environment like that.

Realizing my student loan payments begin in June, and that the only somewhat steady job I’ve had lately is babysitting, articles like that can instantly ruin my day. Consequently, I’ve been thinking a lot about worth and where it comes from: how much of my identity is defined by what I “do,” and how I’m going to weather the judgments of strangers I meet at social gatherings who scoff when I tell them “I’m a writer!” (Which is precisely why I don’t go to many social gatherings).

At one point in my life, I judged people who were “just” waitresses, or “just” Starbucks baristas. “Who would want to be stuck doing that for a living?” I’d wonder. But that was well before I found myself struggling to keep my head afloat in the working world. That was when I still lived at home with my parents and never had to pay for anything myself.

I’ve grown up a bit since then: and I’ve been considerably humbled, since my next day job may very well be – surprise! – Starbucks. At least until book sales pick up. *crosses fingers*

It helps to remember that status and job titles don’t matter a whole lot when I never have to doubt where my next meal is coming from: I make enough to at least have those at my disposal. People in third-world countries aren’t so fortunate. Maybe that’s an extreme comparison, but when the majority of the world lives below the poverty line, it’s a wake-up call. It makes me less likely to complain because I’m a few dollars short of meeting up with a friend for a beer after a long workday. It humbles me to realize that while I may not earn enough book royalties to quit my day job (whatever that will be), I still have the freedom to publish what I want, when I want. That’s a priceless gift right there.

I write these words in hopes that I will convince myself of their truth, and remember my true worth as a daughter of God; someone’s fiancé; a close friend to a handful of really awesome people.