How to Have a Feminist Valentines Day

Photo from the Junia Project

Soon I will be transitioning into a newer, more grown-up blog, and I had anticipated my most recent post to be my last one on this site. However, after deciding to not write about my least favorite day of the year, I changed my mind after giving it some thought. I realized that Valentines Day is actually a really opportune tradition to draw attention to the beauty of feminism, so that's what this post will be about: how to minimize patriarchy on the most patriarchal day of the year.

1. Strive for full equality
Dillon (read: the boyfriend) and I are intentionally being our normal, boring selves this Valentines Day. which includes me, him, fuzzy socks, and Game of Thrones. We're not going out, we're not buying each other gifts, and we aren't setting sexist expectations on what I should receive as a girl or what he should buy as a guy. Is it wrong to celebrate love or an important person in your life? No, of course not. However, the idea that because I am a female means that I deserve gifts, chocolate, or special treatment is an idea spurring from patriarchal ideals, heterosexual traditions, and sexism. Instead of conforming to these gender-based stereotypes, we are choosing to save money, set aside our privilege, and acknowledge each other in ordinary, equal ways rather than me expecting him to set me on a pedestal simply because I'm the girl in this relationship. We're just spending time together, watching our favorite show, and being intentional in setting aside our phones, schedules, and other people, because making time for your favorite person is beautiful time spent, indeed.

2. Be aware of what's "normalized"-and what's not
Society has set up, through years of tradition, patriarchy, and bad advertising what sorts of relationships constitute as "normal", or accepted and what sorts don't. Sadly, this means that days like Valentines Day caters to the people who are straight, heterosexual, privileged, and oftentimes white people, excluding anyone who does not fit such a mold. Love can come in various ways and forms, and as a society we need to be aware and accepting towards lesbians, gays, transgendered peoples, bisexuals, and anyone in between.

Love is more than sex; love is commitment, tears, laughter, hugs, kisses, sacrifice, feelings, thoughts, choices, flesh, bone, emotions, minds, bodies, and much, much more.

Find the people in your life who don't fit the sexualized stereotypes of societal love and celebrate them and their love today.

3. Stop making single people out to be unfortunate, sad, weak, or missing out
Now, I understand the ideas of longing and desire. Wishing for a relationship, to be intimate with someone and to know them inside and out isn't bad or wrong or evil. Desires are normal, and longings are validated and okay. However, there is a difference in idolizing a relationship and yearning to be in one. Being single is a strong and beautiful place to be. You, as a person, are smart and able and wholly your own. You are brave and independent and wild and free. You are a completely put together person, all by yourself. You have potential, you have brains, you have strength. You are much more than a romantic, idealized picture of what society says you need to be.

You are you.

And that's pretty powerful.

4. Set aside privilege and make room for reality
As someone who grew up as a straight, white, middle-class American, I struggle every day with the problems of unequal distribution and unfair wealth that exist all around the world today. Sometimes I feel really awful spending money or wasting food, because most of the world goes without enough money to even have one meal a day. When events like what happened in Ferguson this past year occur, I hate that I'm white, and some days I wish I could just spend all of my time apologizing to those who the world hurts, ostracizes, and demeans.

In essence: the way this world works is just not fair.

We cater to the privileged, we hold white people to no account, and males are esteemed and listened to at levels that oppress anyone who isn't a "manly man". It's sad, it's awful really. Sometimes I don't know how to handle it.

But then I'm reminded that money isn't evil; it's how you use it that matters.
Being white isn't a sin; being racist has to be (but discriminating against other people is a choice).
It's true that not all males are patriarchal; all women are oppressed though, so start listening to the women around you.

This Valentines Day, I want to use my privilege to give other people platforms. Today, I want to be extra aware of the problems created by patriarchy and power struggles: problems like how most girls around the world don't know what Valentines Day is, because they're forced into child marriage or prostitution or sex trafficking-and do we even care at all?

Problems like how same-sex couples aren't catered to or acknowledged, because "real" men are supposed to spend all their money on girls who think they deserve it (and that homeless person you just passed won't even have a meal, much less a box of chocolates).

Problems like how most couples aren't pretty and polished and functional at all. A lot of partners are fighting most days. A lot of women are abused domestically by men. A lot of men feel pressured by monetary expectations, a lot of inter-racial couples are ignored instead of celebrated, and a lot of people are missing loved ones today, because someone passed away or someone should be here or someone messed up and oh no, this baby was unexpected (and now I'm a single mama).

The thing is, romantic love should be celebrated no matter what the day, and it should be celebrated among all sorts of people. Other loves should matter, too: love for self, love for friends, love for family and teachers and siblings and the list goes on and on.

Cherish your loved ones today (and everyday).

But notice the world around you while you're doing it.

Other ways to be a feminist on this patriarchal day include reading about egalitarianism (how to have full equality within relationships), going over to the Junia Project to view their series on weddings, or writing down five things that you like about someone who isn't your romantic partner: be it yourself, your parents, your siblings, your friends, or just anyone else who may not be feeling the love from society today.

P.S.
This is officially my last post on this blog. My new one will come soon-so be sure to journey with me to that space to continue conversations on faith, feminism, and other messy things.

When We Stayed: on Churchy-ness and Sacred People

Yesterday I was sitting in one of my classes, and my fellow classmate asked our professor the following: this may be getting too personal, but why haven't you left the Church?

In essence: what makes you stay?

It's a question that I've asked myself multiple times, especially in light of all that I've experienced.

Some of my biggest hurts have come from the mouth of that white, privileged male speaking at the pulpit up there. Some of my deepest pains have come from the actions of church-goers, from the gossipy ones and the modesty ones and the folks who wring their hands when the real, authentic, messiness of the world, of myself and many others makes them uncomfortable.

The irony of it all is that the Church should be the safest place, where heaven meets earth and restoration runs rampant. The congregation should be the first arms open wide, the last words to cut down another person, but so often this isn't the case and we all know it's true.

My professor's answer was good, it was really good, in fact:

"It's different for each person, but for me-the resurrection. I can't deny the resurrection".

What a concept: powerful and inspiring, because somehow you've got to find a way to keep living after tragedy strikes. When you're lamenting and hurting and crying out to God, resurrection is the concept that brings you hope. It's beautiful and overwhelming and, metaphorically speaking, my favorite aspect of life.

We are made for it. We are resurrection people.

As a historical event, the details become more vague, but the evidence stacks up, or it convinces me at least, and unless someone disproves it, I will always cling to such a hope: that Jesus Christ diminished death when the stone was rolled away.

The resurrection is a good answer, and I'm thankful for professors willing to get real and personal about their own faith walks.

Let's turn the question on you now-what makes you stay? Why do you keep coming back to this messy place full of broken people?

For me, it's that exactly: we are broken, but beautifully so. Our brokenness makes us sacred, and as scary and risky as the brokenness of humanity can be, there's something attractive about it, because when we're all together, when we are all gathered in a room because of our brokenness together, I know the ground is holy.

Yes, churches are full of mess-ups and screw-ups and slip-ups and every other sort of up imaginable, but this is what makes us human-this shows us our need for Christ.

In fact, I'm more weary of the churches full of pretty people, the ones who never admit their fallenness or sins or faults because we're sitting in pews and holding our fancy coats tight and don't look at me too closely-I'm fine, fine, fine. My life is fine, my family is fine, my walk is fine, my everything is just. fine.

I want to be a part of a church that speaks openly about their realness. I want a church that is unafraid to engage hard topics, that asks actual questions, that listens to human stories. I want a church that marvels at how God restores our souls, and I want a church that cares about how fleshy, skin-and-bone-people are hurting and harmed. I want to be a part of a church that is aware of the world around them, and that cares enough to engage with it.

In a world that is moaning and groaning, we need churches that respond with love.

Open arms.
Hands extended.
Chairs pulled out, because would you sit next to me? I want to know your story.

This is why I haven't left the Church, because I believe in this vision. I believe in the sacredness of churchy people doing real, life things, and for as many times as I've been hurt by churchgoers, I've been healed just as many times by God working through people who were striving to be like Jesus.

I've experienced more than just churchy-ness; I've experienced actual community.
I've experienced more than just churchgoers; I've found actual friendships.
I've experienced more than just patriarchal, systematic oppression; I've experienced freedom and feminism and all sorts of liberation from shit like power struggles-these are not of Christ. These are hellbent and full of darkness.

It's people like Mackenzie, a friend and fellow feminist who gets a fire in her bones if you ask her about white privilege. It's Rachel, that fierce thing, who you can cry with and laugh with, she'll sit in sadness and joy, whatever you need, love. It's Taylor, my best friend, and it's Lauren and Carley and Erin, Gina, Megs. These are smart women and these are brave women and these are women who love God and who love people so well. It's Kevin and Zach, it's Luke, Nathan, Elijah: men giving their lives to include, love, and cherish, because they see how the world works and they're trying to do things differently (male feminists are great, be sure to hold onto them real tight).

It's professors who encourage me and who open up their hearts and minds. It's older, wiser, folks, the parenty-types who mentor me and disciple me and feed me. They remember what it was like to be a young, twenty-something.

It's those people back in Portland, oh gosh how I miss them. Cathy with her sweet hugs and Dustin with his welcoming smile. Kara always makes people laugh and Brett, Heather, Cade-so fun and so real and so wiling to open up their home.

It's Dillon, that sweet guy, showing me how not all men place women underneath them. No, in fact, he speaks up and out against these sorts of things, against gender roles and misogynistic thinking and he actually gets it. He really, truly does, and we'll giggle and cuddle and get on each other's nerves some days, but we're doing life together because we're a team.

Full stop.

It's the writers I look up to, Sarah Bessey and Rachel Held Evans and Emily Maynard, so intelligent and so bold and so caring about people and they're progressive thinkers too. They encourage me to not shy away from intellect, because church and smarts can overlap, no matter what other people may say. It's the men who really strive to empower the women in their lives, it's the people who care about racism and sexism and intersectionality. It's the ones who can ask hard questions and be real about their doubts, and it's the ones who don't demonize struggles because we're all struggling here.

The struggles are parts of our stories.

It's things like mutuality, equality, respect, love, and peace. It's when we embrace what the Spirit is doing because the Spirit is powerful stuff, moving and breathing among men, women, and children, anyone with a story and anyone who is willing to do the hard, messy work of God.

It's people that believe in this vision. It's humans that care about other humans, because we are made to care for each other. We'll speak it out and sing it loud: in the name of Jesus we will break every chain. We'll clink our drinks together, throw our arms 'round one another and engage life, head on.

These are my people.

This is why I'm staying.

This is good church.


This is my last post on this site-woohoo! I'm starting a new, grownup blog, which will launch in a few days. Thanks for reading, and I hope you will travel with me to the new space.

When We Were Beautiful

I get it, I really do.

Some days it's easy to feel fierce, because my eyeliner is perfect and my lipstick is spot-on and Mondays I like wearing that cool leather jacket.

Other days though, other seasons it's harder to have confidence. There are endless reasons for why, and sometimes you may not even know the reason. You may be depressed or anxious, grieving or overwhelmed. You may have been catcalled one time too many, or you may have simply forgotten: you are beautiful.

Inside and out.

In a world that encourages girls to be pretty rather than smart, it's easy to believe the lies that you're unable, stupid, too forward, or flat-out wrong. A few months ago Pantene made a commercial showing how often women feel the need to apologize for being confident, and the video is astounding.

Especially when you realize how true the message rings.

Because of patriarchal standards, oppression, and traditions that have existed for centuries all over the world, women feel the need to apologize for every little thing. We feel as if we are meant to be seen; not heard, and most girls today are still fighting for the rights to go to school, because our world tells girls that we have no value or worth.

No potential, no capabilities, no gifts or smarts or strengths.

On the other end, as much as the worth of our outsides are emphasized (as if we were cars to stare at, just prizes to be won), most women don't feel confident to look or dress however they desire. Women are shamed and degraded, and too much makeup means you're trying too hard.

Too loud, too quiet, too fat, too skinny, too tall. Too short, too curvy, too bony, and can you cover up please? Your body is shaming us all, and I'm not in control of myself enough to look the other way [PSA: men can control themselves].

These messages and more are constantly being preached, from the Church and everywhere outside of it.

What would it look like if we strived to make peace?

To stop with the too-muches and simply rest here: you are beautiful. You are loved.

Inside and out.

To say this wonderful line: you are a human being, and you are worthy of respect.

To look at girls and not see boobs; to look at women as intelligent, able, fantastic people, too.

To look at men and empower them yes, but to give women platforms because white, heterosexual males have always had voices.

Where are our people of color? Where is our LGBTQ community? Where are my brothers and sisters-in all of our diversity and strength?

Ah, there you all are.

In our bakeries and stores, in our banks and cafes and restaurants. You are business people and ministers, you are students and teachers and staff. You are lovely, lovely humans-just ordinary people doing ordinary things.

Having confidence some days, and hellish dark times on others.

Do me a favor, love: go to your mirror and tell yourself one truth.

You are beautiful.

It sounds cheesy, and maybe it is. I like cheese though, and hope takes all kinds of forms. Hope for me is looking in a mirror and affirming my mind.

Hope is touching my skin, my nose, my eyes, my ears.

It's finding flesh, a little on the soft side, and breathing real deep, in and then out.

It's thinking my little chest mole is cute, and it's not fretting over long legs. I've always been tall, and that makes me good at soccer.

My body is nothing to be ashamed of, and neither is yours.

You are smart. You are loved. You are beautiful.

My little sister is thirteen, and all of these positive messages and more I want her to know. She's already teaching me so much about my own life and body positivity: how to be radiant, how to be confident, how to be silly. She's an extrovert and I'm anything but, so her sunshiney-ness encourages my own decisions.

She's silly and bright and all sorts of ambitious, and I want to be that way too.

I want you to be that way.

You are beautiful.