TecnaMonsterFairyTaleHigh and the Future of the Female Body

In chapter 3 of Cyborg Selves I offer a detailed analysis of the way gender and human sexuality is envisioned in two distinct posthuman discourses. One, of course, is the feminist cyborg discourse begun by Donna Haraway's "Cyborg Manifesto," and the other is the analysis of gender and human sexuality offered by James Hughes and George Dvorsky in their Institute for Ethics and Emerging Technologies white paper entitled, "Postgenderism: Beyond the Gender Binary."

I won't recap everything here, but suffice to say, I find these two discourses on gender and sexuality to be in opposition to each other in important ways, and the contrasts between the two ultimately rest on their divergent views of the human body, and in this instance, the female body particularly. [If you want to know more, well hey, take that $100 you've got lying around just waiting to be spent and click the link on the sidebar and get yourself a copy of the book! :)]

One of the assumptions in Hughes and Dvorsky's analysis of transhumanism and gender is that technological interventions on the human body are the ultimate means of addressing the social injustices  surrounding gender. They anticipate a future where, by means of various technologies, people will be able to consciously select certain "gendered" traits, according to personal preference, thus dismantling the "gender binary" that we have (presumably) inherited from our unaltered biology. The vision is one of liberation from that restrictive binary by altering our bodies at will.

There are a lot of things here to take issue with, from my point of view, but again--read the book.

What I want to focus on here is a new wrinkle of worry about this approach to gender and biotechnology and the posthuman future, prompted by my latest brush with the rampant sexualization and body distortion and stereotyping and reduction and limitation in children's media and the toy industry.

This past week Clare asked me to please rethink my ban on Winx Club. The girls at her school play "Winx" at recess, and while she joins in, she always feels a bit lost because she doesn't watch the show and has to figure out who is who and what is happening. I get that. And she was super thoughtful about asking me to rethink, and suggested I watch an episode. And promised that if I did let her watch it she would ignore all the inappropriate stuff (oh how I wish it worked that way). Of course it also turns out that she had been illicitly bingewatching on the iPad after Netflix put temptation right in front of her face. Sigh. #parentfail.

So, I watched an episode. And it basically made my brain explode and dribble out my ears. It was beyond the horrible I had braced myself for.

Then I saw the newest toy to come down the corporate pike for my daughter: Fairy Tale High.

Great! They're like Bratz, only not Bratz because they're, like, fairy-tale-ish. They're like Monster High, only not, 'cuz they're fairy-tale-ish. They're like Winx and _____ and _____ and ______ only not, 'cuz they're fairy tale princesses in their secret life instead of fairies and _____ and ______. Wow! That's what we call OPTIONS!

Pigtail Pals member Bailey Shoemaker Richards says it:

I mean, just look at them. You literally cannot tell these things apart.

What does the above picture have to do with transhumanist aspirations to postgenderism, I bet you're wondering.

That's great, because I'm about to tell you.

First, there's the basic question that Melissa Atkins Wardy at Pigtail Pals puts to us, which is, what are our girls (and boys!) learning from these distorted representations of the female body, and limited, frivolous representations of girlhood?

Yes, that's rhetorical. We know what they're learning, and it is false, and it is harmful.

My question is, what happens when these internalized false and harmful notions of what girls and women's bodies are supposed to look like collide with the ever-more-inventive technologies we use on those bodies?

Will we get the transhumanist utopian vision of technologically mediated gender equity, and human bodies that, again via technological mediation, defy the presumed biological gender binary?

Or will we get women who seek to sculpt their bodies into the distorted representations we've been handing them as the ideal and norm ever since they were born, and men who expect that?

Sunday morning media literacy lesson

So Clare has this little coloring book app on the family iPad. It's a little young for her now at 7 but she still enjoys it. It's full of pictures of fairies and princesses and elves and such.

This morning she showed me this picture that she'd completed and drawn her own background for. She was most proud of the way she'd drawn the wind and the flower petals blowing through the air, which is totally the best thing about the picture.

But I also noticed something else. I bet you did too.

And we had a little chat.

First I asked her about the fairy in her picture. "She looks teen-agery," was her first response. When I asked her to explain what that meant, she said, "weelllll, I didn't want to say it but she looks, you know, sexy."

My girl is so savvy. 

So we talked about what things made this picture sexy. Not that the fairy has a grown-up woman's body, but that the person who drew the picture decided to draw her a certain way: the dress, the pose, the expression on her face.

Then we looked at these.

the younger girl version

Clare was surprised when I said I thought they were a little "sexy" too. It's one kind of inappropriate for a picture you'd expect to see on a truck's mudflaps in a kid's coloring book. It's another, and I think worse, kind of inappropriate to draw children's bodies with sexy overtones.

Clare didn't see this pose as "sexy," because these pictures weren't "teenagery." That is, these fairies don't have boobs. And I might not have thought so if they weren't so obviously younger versions of the Sexy Fairy above. But that's why it's worse, and more insidious. A grown-up drew these, and made the choices to keep certain features which, on the "teenagery" fairy, are readily identifiable as sexy. The Bratzy bedroom eyes and the pouty full lips. The short skirt and the pose that makes you look right at her almost visible butt.

the toddler version

I mean really. The toddler fairy ought to be in a little magic diaper, not a cocktail party dress and mascara. Good grief.

Not all the choices on this app are this bad. The rest are more ho-hum run-of-the-mill passive-princess bad, but nothing else that's as overtly sexualized as these three. Which means that yes, the people behind the app are aware that it is possible to draw fairy princesses that don't look like they're posing for Playboy. And chose to do it anyway.

Delete delete delete.

When I told Clare that I'd be much more interested in a fairy she drew herself she grinned and immediately went to work.

When she showed me her picture she pointed out proudly that her fairy had a braid and a pretty dress and that she was not at all sexy. Because she's a kid fairy, and kids aren't sexy.

this is why women know better...

...than to "go to the church" for help in abusive situations.

Sheryl WuDunn at GlobalTED 2010: Our century's greatest injustice

the low point: commenting on "mixed marriage"

One of the low points--other than my unHappy Meal encounter--was hearing not one but two joking references to "mixed marriage" while in Nashville. The first came through a mike, immediately preceding a prayer. And, while it did occur to me at the time that it was tasteless and grossly inappropriate (especially since I had, just a few minutes before, from my vantage point at a corner table, been struck by the fact that I could count the number of black faces in the room on one hand and still have fingers left over), it didn't outrage me nearly as much as it should have. It just sort of washed past me, an enduring legacy of having grown up in the South. It wasn't until the next day, when I heard it forthrightly named as racist by someone who was paying more attention than I was, that I realized the full depth of what it means to casually joke about "mixed marriages."

The next day, I heard another joke about while standing in the middle of church. This second time, it reverberated in all of its unintentional overtones. And the nervous wry bark of a laugh with which I responded to the first reference was replaced by simply a deep sadness, without any tinge of judgment, because I too had had to learn belatedly that this is nothing to laugh about.

Once in high school I heard a pillar of our church tell a joke, standing in the center aisle of the auditorium, with a punchline that ended with the n-word. Not even tempted to laugh nervously, I just stared in confusion. We can recognize racism in our midst when it comes packaged in blatant and socially unacceptable forms. But what's the difference between a joke with the n-word and a joke about "mixed marriage"? In the end, both rely on the same categorical racism--without it, they are incoherent.

This adds a new dimension to the discussion from the Dating Jesus session at CSC 2010 about the relationship of theology and justice. I suspect--as does my bro Robert Foster, whose comment was very insightful--that dismantling injustice in one context is a gateway to becoming cognizant of the need for social justice in other contexts as well. But one problem is, many people simply don't seem to see that there's anything unjust about the role or status of women in our churches. How could that possibly be? I dimly remember not being outraged by it, but I can no longer recapture the logic of that former point of view--I can no longer remember how it feels to not be bothered by this. This leaves me with the necessity of constructing some kind of coherent intellectual explanation for what seems now to be an inexplicable blindness to justice matters.

There are surely multiple factors in this, but here is the one that seems the strongest to me right now. Men and women are supposed to be ontologically distinct--this is the crux of "hierarchical complementarianism" just as much as it is straight-up patriarchalism. (To borrow a phrase from another CSC session, hierarchical complementarianism seems to me to be the theological construct justifying "benevolent sexism." Perhaps a post for another time, there.) So it's no biggie that men do X and women do Y; they are just essentially different kinds of human beings and therefore women could never do Y and it's stupid to get angry over it.

Like the logic of "mixed marriage," the concept of hierarchical complementarianism doesn't make sense without assuming categorical difference. And if we are still, as a church, joking and laughing about mixed marriage--demonstrating that on some level we still are not questioning the working assumption that white people and black people are essentially different kinds of people--no wonder we're not able to question the same logic when it shows up with regard to gender. These two things are linked at a deep conceptual level. We cannot have gender justice without racial justice. And maybe we're banging our heads against a brick wall with some people about gender justice because we've never adequately dealt with the generations-old sin of racism that still permeates our vision of the world, even as we bow our heads to pray and stand in the middle of our churches.

belated thoughts on CSC 2010

1. I am EXHAUSTED.
2. Presenting in 3 sessions of 6 (plus various other stuff) means NOT getting to do all the things you really want to do at a conference, namely, go to the sessions you want to hear, and freely skip sessions in order to grab a coffee with people you only see once a year. It also means not being able to live blog/tweet and thus, catch-up blogging. Sigh.
3. Having food provided for every meal ROCKS. Way to go Lipscomb!!!
4. The session I most wanted to attend and couldn't: Monstrous Beauty. So many awesome posthuman figures in that one...
5. The session I most enjoyed participating in: Dating Jesus with Susan Campbell. It was not the only follow-up to last year's groundbreaking sessions on experiences of gender in the c's-of-C (and yes, I agree with JRB, when it comes time to write the next volume of Reviving the Ancient Faith for these recent and upcoming decades, last year's conference is going to be read as a turning point); there was a wonderful session convened by Dr. Sharp Penya of ACU on some results of ongoing research into gender attitudes and predictors of attitudes in our churches. But it was, I think, the session that provided that same voice of experience that last year's sessions did--and I am convinced that this is the thing most needed right now. This is not (only or primarily) an intellectual or hermeneutical matter--this is something that requires a conversaion experience of some sort. And for about 50% of CofCers, that means taking the leap into someone else's experience and making that vicarious experience their own in some sense--enough to prompt the realization that it really is and has been damaging, for many of us, and blindness to that reality is not a moral option. Not everyone will make that leap--there are lots of ways to armor yourself against it--but the immediate task is to make it impossible to be unknowingly ignorant of this reality. Some will choose to be willfully ignorant. And we can't coerce conversion. But we can--like Jesus with the rich young ruler--force people to the point of decision, and if they walk away, we can watch them do it sorrowfully...and turn to the next person, because we can also hope that not everyone will choose to be willfully ignorant of the reality of women in our midst. Not to keep blathering on too much, but again...this is the point of the "women in the CofC" blog experiment, which of course is still ongoing and the invitation is for YOU! (MOM!). I had a vision last year of women sitting primly next to each other in pews every Sunday, silently saying to themselves every week, "How long, O Lord?" and all convinced they were the only ones...while together they send up their silent collective cry to God. How long, indeed? It will remain forever deferred if we all sit silently in our pews frozen by anxiety and unable to speak, even to each other, about the vision of liberation and full range of opportunity of serving our God and our church and our world that we long for. And if you can't bring yourself to lean over and whisper something subversive to the gray-haired old lady next to you--say it here, anonymously if you must, because this is not "laleo in ecclesia" and this Theologian-at-Large and Heretic-for-Hire can take the hit. Plus, back to my original point after that massive tangential diversion, Susan Campbells ROCKS. And she said some of the things we most, most need to hear--like, why does it take a year to get a CofC on board with something which, once you see it, is (in the paraphrase of JRB) "silly right," something which makes our current typical practices obviously and untenably absurd? Why are we taking baby steps? And who are we hurting when we concede to those who require baby steps but those who are already walking wounded? Does that not matter? Why are we so unjustifiably proud of our faltering baby steps--shouldn't we be sprinting toward the goal of justice in our communities? There was also a good back-and-forth on the connection between theology and justice, which makes me wonder (and so I guess I am officially asking), was this experience of injustice within the church the door into Susan's convictions regarding social justice in the wider sense?
6. Really really really really REALLY stoked about CSC 2011. It'll be sad to miss my annual pilgrimage to middle TN, which really is Home for me, but I shall content myself with the second-best option of Malibu (sarcasm alert here, y'all). AND, of course, the theme is religion and science, and John Polkinghorne is slated to be one of several awesome plenary speakers. Awesome! And there is so much to think about...so many different possibilities for presentations and sessions...very exciting. Ken Reynhout, brace yourself, because I'm going to start begging you to come starting right now.
7. People seemed to like the posthuman stuff. Always encouraging. And getting a shout-out from James Elkins in the concluding dialogue session was certainly a feather in my cap, which no longer quite fits on my great big inflated head. :)

All right, that's it for now. Next step: go home, and label an empty mayo jar "CSC 2011" and start saving the pennies. :)

from JW: Passive Resistance for Gender Equality in the Church

The assumptions about how scripture functions and the ability to “interpret” it within Churches of Christ have produced a number of faulty readings of Scripture. The most obvious example is the staunch stance that (many) Churches of Christ take on not using instrumental music simply because the NT does not discuss the use of instruments in music. However, the NT also does not address the use of technology in worship, but I hear no churches arguing that it is wrong to use microphones. Churches of Christ are inconsistent on the application of such principles as “speak where the Bible speaks, silent where the Bible is silent,” and it results in no small number of problems when describing the idiosyncrasies of our worship.
Some problems, however, do not result from the silence of scripture, but rather from the perceived certainty of what scripture actually does say. For example: the commands for the silence of women in the church (see 1 Corinthians 14:35-36; 1 Timothy 2:11-13). For many churches (not just the Churches of Christ), the interpretation of these passages is clear: women must be silent. However, there are problems with the certainty with which this conclusion is offered.

1. We do not actually require women to be completely silent. When Churches of Christ sing their characteristic a capella songs, there are female voices as well as male. Clearly, even we do not take this command to its fullest extent to require absolute silence.
2. The reasoning that a woman cannot teach/preach because the text says no woman can have authority over a man ignores other scriptural witnesses of the authority of women. I offer as an example Phoebe of Romans 16, who is both a patron and deacon of the church at Cenchraea, not to mention that she is likely the carrier of Paul’s letter and therefore the representative of Paul to Rome. So unless we presume that the churches in Cenchraea and Rome were completely made up of females, it is beyond doubt that Phoebe had authority over men and was appointed to such a position by Paul, the presumed author of the above texts in question.

Given these two points, it seems reasonable to conclude that simply referring to 1 Corinthians 14 and 1 Timothy 2 as “proof-texts” to not include women within the worship service is problematic. And we can come to this conclusion with a “naïve” reading of the text—that is, it does not require any special approach or interpretation to see that the example of Phoebe contradicts the injunctions against women having authority. It just requires good philological and historical tools. But for those who cannot read Greek, it requires honesty by our Bible translation committees—I’m looking at you NIV.
I do not believe it is possible for any person to arrive at the biblical text “objectively”—that is, without being formed by preconceived notions and experiences. However, this concept does not apply only to the readers of scripture, but also to the authors of scripture. In other words, those who wrote the words that we read as scripture could not help but be influenced by the assumptions of their various cultures.
One cultural assumption implicit within the commands for silence is that women were simply not intelligent enough to have authority over men. It was assumed that women were not as capable as men, and as a result of this assumption, women were not educated as men were in the ancient world. The practice of not educating women only perpetuated the assumption that women were not as intelligent. And thus, we have evidence of an oppressive system based on faulty assumptions of gender inequality that provides the (implicit) reasoning for the silence of women. The explicit reasoning of 1 Timothy 2—that man was created first and woman second—only serves as a “theological” justification of the culturally assumed place of women.
I hope that no one today still assumes that women are in any way inferior to men. If that assumption persists, there is nothing that I could say that would deter such willful ignorance. So, assuming that we all agree on the equality of men and women, we must take this into account when we read scripture. The authors assumed women were inferior, but we do not agree with their assumption. So how can we agree with their conclusion?
So now we come to the practical aspect: given the stance of the Churches of Christ on women, what should I do? Should I just leave and join a more egalitarian community? Should I become an activist and demand change immediately and loudly? Should I stay and patiently try to work it out with those who would listen? My lack-of-confrontation-personality wants to take option one and just leave. But my attempt to remain faithful to the community of faith that raised me and taught me the Gospel makes me fight against the gut instinct to leave. As for the second option, I do not have the personality to be an activist. That is not to say that I don’t think it is a viable option, I just don’t think it is for me. As for the third option, let’s just be honest here: I am not patient. I don’t want to spend 10 years trying to convince one congregation that it’s okay for women to read scripture publicly but restrict them from the “more important” jobs like eldership and preaching.
Given the fact that I have problems with each of the three options mentioned above, I have been trying to think of another option. For inspiration, I think of the Civil Rights movement in the U.S. in the 1960s, and specifically I think of the examples of passive resistance (like sit-ins, marches, etc…). However, I do not want to stage sit-ins or march to the church house door. So I am still left searching for an expression of my passive resistance. And the more I have thought about this issue, the clearer my answer has become.
My form of passive resistance for gender equality within the church is: silence.
Clearly I do not mean complete silence because you are reading my blog post, so let me explain what I mean.
I think it is wrong for any institution, including the church, to deny someone the opportunity to do something for which they are capable and trained based on gender. For example: my wife, Naomi, has the same ministerial training that I have: an M.Div. from Abilene Christian University. Actually, she has more: an undergrad Bible degree from Rochester College with a minor in counseling. On paper, her credentials beat my own B.A. in Political Science. Moreover, not only is she better qualified based on training, she is better qualified based on gifting: I can write and deliver a sermon, but she can preach. However, despite the fact that she is better qualified on all counts, virtually no Church of Christ (with few exceptions) would hire her over me. This is not just unfortunate or unfair, it is morally wrong.
So, if our churches refuse to let her use her training and gifts, then I will refuse to use mine. Now, those of you who know me may say, well that’s convenient for you since you have chosen an academic career rather than a ministerial career. And I agree. But that does not mean that any church of which I would be a part would not ask me to do things like preach, lead prayer, lead songs, teach Bible class, etc…
To say it more succinctly: I will not work for or serve any institution that would not allow my wife, being equally trained as I, to perform the same job. Yes, this means that I will not work for any university that would not hire my wife to do the same job, but that is not as likely to cause a problem as the church scenario.
However, in order for this form of protest to mean anything, I must take it one step further. I cannot just refuse the opportunity to preach, lead prayer, teach, etc… without an explanation. I must express the reason for my refusal. Perhaps I will respond to any such invitation with a question: “You know, I’m not very good at preaching, but my wife is. Would you ask her to do it instead?” If the response is “No,” then I will decline and explain my reasoning.
I do not propose this as something that everyone else should do. I would be happy for other (especially my male colleagues) to participate in this form of protest, but only if you choose. This is the form of protest that best fits my personality, so it works for me. I encourage every one who reads this to think of creative ways that you can actively or passively call for change within our churches.
In conclusion: gender equality is not a worship preference issue; it is a justice issue. If you disagree, I hope that you will reconsider. If you agree, I urge you to think about what you can do about it.

originally posted here at Jamey's blog

JTB boobquake

So, blogger Jen McCreight at blaghag.com  took umbrage at this comment from an Iranian cleric, Hojatoleslam Kazem Sedigric (Tehran's acting Friday prayer leader):

"Many women who do not dress modestly ... lead young men astray, corrupt their chastity and spread adultery in society, which (consequently) increases earthquakes." 

Now, of course, we should hasten to note that this is no more ridiculous than Falwell blaming the ACLU for the attacks on 9-11, or Pat Robertson's comments about Hurricane Katrina and gay people. Apparently, religious idiocy is cross-cultural and highly ecumenical. That should make us all feel good, right?

So anyway, Jen M. decided to make this cleric's empirical claim about earthquake causality a matter of actual quasi-scientific experimentation, and suggested that yesterday, April 26, as "boobquake" day. This of course is an irresistible hybrid of my own social networking, theology, and science interests, and it took about two seconds to sign on and commit myself to teaching last night's Foundations of Theology II class in my lowest cut blouse. (FTR, no one noticed, despite the fact that I even wore my one and only push-up bra to enhance the earth-shattering effects.)

As Stephen Colbert noted last night, there was indeed an earthquake off the coast of Taiwan (I'd like to take credit but my relationship with that island is one of two degrees of separation, so I really can't).

Anyhow, the results are in, and apparently, while you may feel the earth move under your feet in a highly metaphorical sense, unsurprisingly, immodest dress is a matter of indifference for tectonic plates. (Apparently Mother Earth isn't a lesbian?)

Now, some of you may notice that the well-endowed, and by that I mean to refer to her intellect, Jen M. describes herself as "a nerdy scientific perverted atheist feminist" and that she is the lame-duck Pres of the Society of Non-Theists at Purdue. So perhaps you're confused as to why I think boobquake is awesome, since part of the point (at least as Jen M. interprets the results) is not just to demonstrate that the immodest-dress-earthquake-causality thesis is absurd, but an entirely different thesis of God's existence as well. Somehow I feel obligated to say, this is over-interpretation of the results of the boobquake experiment. I'm pretty sure that, since God created this material existence, including our beautiful boobs, She was enjoying the whole spectacle immensely, and rather uninclined therefore to, um, shake things up.

Actually, to make a serious point, what drew me in the boobquake thing is the need for protesting absurd religious misogyny. And you can do that without presuming there is no God. In fact, I believe you can probably do it better, but in the meantime, I'm happy to momentarily join forces with any fellow traveler who's willing to call it like she sees it.

awesomeness

thanks, Travis Stanley! :)

by Steve Leveen, for the guys: I'll bet you know women in your world whom you can support

Why men should read this book about women, then help make it the most influential book of the decade

At any given moment it's easy to identify successful books. All you need do is scan the bestseller lists or check out the winners of awards. What's hard to identify are the new books that will have lasting influence as agents of change. Who knew that Silent Spring would be celebrated as a game-changing book so many years after its initial publication?
But what if we could have known in 1962, the year of its publication, that Silent Spring would contain a message of change necessary to save our very world? My guess is that we would have acted faster to head off what we're desperately trying to fix today.
So it's important to try to fathom which books will become the most influential books of our time, in order to add force to their nascent power. In this hazardous task, I hazard a prediction: the most influential book of the decade will be Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide.
Of course I don't know that Half the Sky will be the most influential book, but I believe it should be. And in my own small way, I'm going to help make it so. More important, I invite you--especially if you're a man--to do the same.
It's not (just) about women
The oppression of women is breathtakingly evil, it's frighteningly pervasive in the developing world, and it is alarmingly consequential in its damage--those messages come across vividly in the able hands of authors Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn. They write from first-hand experience as reporters, and also from a deep understanding of their subject through years of research.
Reading their book is like being taken on a frightening but irresistible ride. You don't want to see what you're seeing, but you can't close your eyes either. When the ride is over, they help you understand what you saw and what you can do to make a tangible difference.
The curious thing is that while the book is about the oppression of women, it's not a book about women's problems to be classified under gender studies. Half the Sky is about human rights. The authors argue (successfully, in my opinion) that women's oppression is the human rights issue of our century -- as totalitarianism was of the twentieth century and conventional slavery was of the nineteenth century.
I say "conventional" slavery since it's likely that today's global sex-slave trade is larger in absolute numbers than the transatlantic African slave trade of the nineteenth century.
What's more, helping women not only helps the most humans--women and men--but it is an almost magical leverage point for tackling the dark domes of suffering afflicting the world today. This is especially true when women are given access to education. Two examples: educated women have children later and fewer of them, and they have more opportunities to earn money. Thus the problems of overpopulation and poverty become a bit more surmountable.
The female half of our human capital is desperately needed to understand and effectively fight obstacles facing developing nations, not only overpopulation and poverty but even disease, terrorism and calamitous climate change. The way to hold up our whole sky is to free women to take part in the lifting.
The education of an average white guy
I wouldn't have thought a book about women's oppression would, or should, be the most influential book of our times. I've lived only in the United States, and at 55, I'm smack in the middle of the boomer generation. I've witnessed first hand the progress women have been making. I'm the son of a well-educated professional woman, the brother of strong sisters, and the husband of a beautifully caring and capable woman who founded Levenger as an equal partner with me some 22 years ago.
I've traveled to a good number of countries, including underdeveloped ones, and met professional women in all of them. From my vantage point, things seemed to be working out pretty well for women.
But in truth, I've lived a sheltered life.
My limited education in the oppression women face began 15 years ago when I saw Bandit Queen, a movie from India based on the life of Phoolan Devi and directed by Shekhar Kapur. In 1995 I introduced Kapur at a conference in what was then Bombay, shortly after the movie came out. (He is a celebrity in India, something akin to Robert Redford in the U.S.)
Kapur's movie rocked India with its depiction of sexual brutality as told through the true story of Phoolan Devi, a girl married off at age 9 who fought back with a brutality of her own. The movie deeply affected me, as it did millions of other viewers in India and elsewhere. (The real Devi was imprisoned for murder, pardoned, became a politician, and was assassinated at age 37.)
But then my education slowed to a stop. I started learning again only in the last couple of years, mainly through books that I read about efforts to build libraries around the world. The first book was Leaving Microsoft to Change the World by John Wood, and then Greg Mortenson's Three Cups of Tea. Both men saw with their own eyes the lack of schools and libraries in remote areas of the world, and learned the powerful leverage to be gained by helping girls. Girls help educate other children at rates far exceeding boys.
Those books led me to Paul Polak's brilliant Out of Poverty, and then Muhammad Yunus's inspiring Creating a World Without Poverty. A common theme in all these books is the leverage to be had by educating girls and financially empowering women, since they pour their knowledge and earnings back into families.
But not until Half the Sky did it come together for me. Kristof's and WuDunn's mix of riveting storytelling and fact-based expository writing, topped off with practical calls to action, is a potent mixture. Their book is engineered to elicit action, and it's working.
Nadereh Chamlou, Senior Advisor for the Middle East and North Africa at the World Bank, praises the book for its call for education and micro-finance, while at the same time cautioning that even more is needed: what she calls

"a paradigm changing shift in society... eliminating any kind of legal and institutional discrimination."

Chamlou says in her region, girls are getting comparable educations to boys, and even more so in college, yet gender roles and laws keep women far from economic and political parity. Here is a link to a video from the World Economic Forum's Gender equality report.

Will Sky's influence grow or die out?
From their pulpit as Pulitzer-winning reporters at The New York Times, Kristof and WuDunn were able to launch their book with force. Oprah has endorsed the authors and their cause, and so has Secretary of State Hillary Clinton. Yet even with these and other media powerhouses behind the cause, it's amazing to me how many of my friends--women and men--have heard of Going Rogue but haven't heard of Half the Sky.

Might this important book be lost in the noise?
Despite every reason why it should influence great action in the years to come, it's quite possible that Half the Sky will not be the agent of change its authors, and so many others, hope. That's why men, in particular, should step up to make sure it does.
Why men?
The men reading this are not the men oppressing women--at least, not in the worst ways. Yet millions of men are. (And so are women, by the way, as so much of the oppression is baked hard into culture.) Consider this from page 61: "Women aged fifteen through forty-four are more likely to be maimed or die from male violence than from cancer, malaria, traffic accidents, and war combined." Isn't that stupefying?
Yet we know men are also capable of heroism, self-sacrifice and even, I hesitate to say, chivalry. If I'm not mistaken, men still control most of the power and money in the world. So let's use what we've got--and show what we've got.
We need to cover their backs while women walk through saloon doors, kick some ass, take names, and then walk out. After the dust settles, it would be nice if we picked up the tab at the bar and set the chairs back down on the floor.
Here's the paradigm shift, guys: Seek out women you can help. Then do.
More than just blue sky
Start at home. As the senior Bill Gates says, "...what I find remarkable is that more men around the globe don't realize how much stronger they would be if partnered with a strong woman." That's just what his son has done with his wife in the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation.
Next, seek out other women whom you see doing great things wherever they might be. Here are some examples I've seen in the course of running a business.
Laura Roberts-Niner is the CEO of a green chemical company in the U.S. that is growing rapidly by showing how sustainable practices can help big companies make better profits. After reading Half the Sky, she refined her focus even further.

"I loved the last part of the book--about what you can do now. It inspired me to change our charities inside the company to focus on feet-on-the-street organizations overseas, and in this country, that are doing miraculous things for children and women. When women get to the table, things improve--including sustainability."

Roberts-Niner is also launching a website featuring women's charities.
Reading, then doing
Sometimes the women to support work at large public companies, such as Ann Marie Bushell, Group Executive Vice President of R.R. Donnelley.
Bushell personally supports Heifer, which promotes buying cows and other animals that keep on giving to those in the developing world, as well as SIFE, which joins students with pros to bring sustainable business practices to developing countries.
"But Half the Sky stopped me in my tracks," says Bushell. "It's just staggering to me that I can spend $25 for gift wrap, or I can use that same $25 and make a tangible difference in some girl's life--and not even as a gift, but a loan." Bushell went to Kiva to make a micro-loan and then personally recommended Half the Sky to 10 people, "friends, co-workers, even a friendly competitor."
Were any of the 10 people men? I asked.
"Actually, no."
After a moment's hesitation, she added: "I wanted people to act on the book, and there's no way a woman can read this book and not act."

Other women lead nonprofits, such as Darlene Kostrub, CEO of the Literacy Coalition of Palm Beach County, for which I volunteer.
Gwenny So owns a leather-goods business in China that makes some of the best-constructed leathers I've ever seen, including for Levenger. Most of her executives are women and, like our other Chinese manufacturers, she employs more female workers than males. As Half the Sky points out, with all the very bad parts of communist Chinese history also came very good parts. The freeing of girls to go to school and to participate in the labor force on an equal standing with boys has been a critical component of China's economic miracle.
I'll bet you know women in your world whom you can support so that their influence becomes magnified.
Looking backwards in 2059
Fifty years from now I hope college professors assign an anniversary edition of Half the Sky to their students so that they can see the amazing progress that's been made. I would like to believe that those students will shake their heads and say, "Can you imagine when the world was actually like this?"
But that won't happen by wishing it. It's time for men to open the doors for girls and women, and help make sure it does happen.
Watch this 2:23 minute video called The Girl Effect.
Visit the Half the Sky website.
But most important, read Half the Sky, and see if it doesn't galvanize you. See if it doesn't become one of the books you buy lots of to give away. See if you don't want to discuss it with your buddies. (My all-guys book group is doing that.) See if it doesn't get you to take action.
There are a whole lot of women who could use our help.

by Steve Leveen @HuffPo

by dallasjoyce: My Voice is Missing

MY VOICE IS MISSING

I am a 65 year old woman, and I was “raised in the church.” I graduated from Lipscomb. We took our children to church three times a week. I belong to a conservative congregation of about 1000. When we placed membership there I promised God that I would not leave unless they kicked me out.

I must say that I am disappointed in the way my daughters were taught as they grew up, but anti-feminism was just part of it. When my daughter was struggling with questions involving drugs, alcoholism, sexual identity, and abortion, she was being taught at church that it was immodest for a boy to take off his shirt in public, and that “no instrumental music” was the most important belief in Christianity. It was an almost complete disconnect with the real world.

I don’t think that anti-feminism will keep anybody out of heaven, though. If I leave my congregation, I’m removing the help that I’ve been to them and depriving myself of the help they’ve given me. There is no lack of work for me, and I feel my gifts are adequately recognized. I do constantly harass the “establishment” every time I get a chance. If they’re complaining about not having enough people to serve communion, I remind them that they’ve disqualified half the congregation.

I used to care more about the gender inequalities, but as I’ve gotten older I find that they matter less to me. My congregation has given me encouragement, prayer, casseroles, and honey-baked hams to help me weather personal storms which are still raging. They can help me because they’ve known me for 37 years. I can help them for the same reason. Somebody once told me that a congregation should be like a huge family reunion where everybody knows that Uncle Phil will get drunk, but he’s still got a place at the table. Joe and Ed will bore everyone to death discussing politics, and Bill and Lois haven’t spoken to Marion and Ruth for years, but everybody’s still part of the family, and they all have a place set for them at the table.

I do recognize that the conservative church is driving away many Christians. The Church of Christ is losing women who would otherwise be preachers, counselors, leaders, and workers because they are repulsed by the discrimination. It’s a loss, but not one I feel personally called to correct. I think God will keep His church intact, and His Christians are going to be found in many denominations. Christians only, not the only Christians.

Somebody once said that it is easy to confuse theological insight with spiritual growth. In the past I have delighted in theological insight, but I now find myself forced to deal with spiritual growth. The theology was more fun.

by KSS, part 1

I have so much to say. It’s so hard to know where to start much less where to go. So I’ll follow the questions posed. But first I have to deal with a word issue. I have such a hard time even typing things like “CoC” or “church of Christ” or “Church of Christ.” Have you ever had to lean over to your friend next to you in the pew, during a talk about “Big C and little c” and whisper, “Have you ever even heard of the church of Christ?” I have had to do that. His answer was, “No.” Afterwards, he asked me, “What was the deal about the big c and little c?” I said, “I don’t even want to explain it because I don’t want to even sound like I’m defending it.” Then he asked me a lot more questions like, “And what was the deal with instrumental music? And what was the deal with women?” I know the answers to all those questions, but I don’t even want to answer them. I might have some baggage. I feel like I lost my baggage at the airport a long time ago, and I’ve bought new clothes and toiletries since then. Now someone is showing up at my door saying my luggage has been found, but it’s mixed up with other passengers’ baggage, so would I please unpack it and sort it out. Good grief.

This is going to be offensive, please excuse me or stop reading this or whatever you need to do. I’m not apologetic anymore.

So I use “Church of Christ” because the way I see it, “church of Christ” is used as a way of insisting that it is not a denomination, and I cannot participate in that thinking. I do believe that the Church of Christ is a denomination. I have to say all of this, because I can’t begin a written conversation about the church where I come from without defending why I punctuate the way I do. I know I’m being unfair, because after having said all that, I’m not willing to talk about it any further.

1. What’s your first memory of realizing that being female meant something different in terms of opportunities or expectations?

If you’re a fish, when do you discover water? I grew up in the CoC. I knew the answers before I knew the questions. I don’t remember exactly when I began asking, but by the time I was in high school I had been asking a lot of questions for a long time and getting very polite, unsatisfying answers. All of my questions seemed to me to be best represented by this one question: “How come if I wrote a book everyone would read it and love it and say, ‘Wow! This stuff is great!’ but if I spoke those exact same words, the same people would say, ‘This is wrong.’?”

I started asking everyone everywhere this question. Mostly the answer I got was,
“That’s a good question.”

I wanted to say, “Are you kidding me?! That’s your answer?!”

Sometimes people said, “Well, probably a lot of people wouldn’t read your book.”

I knew that was true, too.

2. How did being female in CoC affect you as a teenager, in college, in your dating relationships?

I never really dated as a teenager. I think being female in CoC as a teenager was only one of many ways that I was “out of sorts” or “out of my element” or “not at home in my own life.” Probably typical for most teenagers. However in college, I think it did directly factor into my not dating. I was a Youth & Family Ministry major at ACU. In my class, there were only two or three female Y&FM majors. Every year while I was there, there were more and more new incoming female Y&FM majors, but I was rare during my time. One day, I was walking through the campus center with a close friend. He was like a brother to me. He was a psychology major. We were having a conversation about dating, and he casually said, “I don’t think I’d date a female Bible major. I think I’d be intimidated.” He said it so matter-of-fact-ly. I felt like there was no reason to be upset about it. I realized that my major was probably going to be a hindrance to dating, to say nothing of the chances of getting married. Another time I was walking with a male Y&FM major, and we were talking about how I felt discriminated against as a female. He said, “I never really thought about it before.” I said, “You wouldn’t—it doesn’t affect you.” Then he said, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

3. How has being female in CoC affected you as an adult? 4. How has being female affected your church life?

To me, being female and the issue of women’s role is part of a bigger conflict I have with the Church of Christ (which I’ll write about later if JTB wants it). At the last Church of Christ I went to regularly, I constantly found myself thinking, “I’m so glad I didn’t invite anyone to come with me today!” Then I would think, “Something is very wrong if I don’t want to invite people to come to church with me.” The sermons made me angry, and I constantly wanted to stand up and walk out. At the time, I had a demanding social work job, and I was constantly getting paged and having to leave church to talk to clients on the phone. Between the job and the church, I found myself on Sunday mornings thinking to myself, “Maybe I’ll just stay home today. I’ll go next week.” My job was with a CoC agency, and it required that I be CoC, so I didn’t feel free to visit other denominations. I was already at the most liberal, progressive CoC in town, so I knew it was pointless to visit other CoC congregations. Before I knew it, I hadn’t been to church in about a year. Then the friend from the “Big C little c” conversation invited me to visit his Methodist church. I decided that as long as I was forsaking the requirements of my job, I might as well do whatever I wanted. I wanted to go to church, I just didn’t want to be pissed the whole time I was there. It has been such a relief to find a home where things that are non-issues to me are non-issues in the church. I feel like now I can focus on the issues that are important to me. I’ve been on social justice and environmental task forces in my Methodist congregations. I’ve gotten to do what I’m good at, and no one thinks twice about it, except to tell me thanks. I’ve moved a couple of times since I started going to a Methodist church, and I’ve always found the same, serving, welcoming types of churches. I understand why people stay who feel like it is their calling in life to help change things, but for me, I feel like I had a different calling and it wasn’t possible to follow my calling in the CoC.

6. How has being female in CoC affected your interaction with children (yours and others’ children)?

When I moved from Texas to DC, I moved in with some friends who grew up CoC but who have been going to an Episcopal church after going to a Disciples of Christ church. They have the same views about women as I do. Now they’re getting ready to move out of state and thinking about where they will go to church. They expect to go to a Disciples of Christ or Episcopal church again, but there’s a local CoC church in their soon-to-be town, that they’ve heard great things about. They also now have a daughter. They asked me what I think about it. They’ve said that they don’t want to raise their daughter in the environment of the CoC because they don’t want her to be influenced by the ideas about women, so I felt comfortable answering their question honestly. I told them that I can only speak for myself and I don’t want to tell them what’s right for them, but I said that I wouldn’t go to a CoC regularly under any circumstances. I don’t have children of my own, but where I do have influence on the experience of children, I won’t promote the CoC. I say these things reluctantly. I am so grateful for so much, but it isn’t enough.

by Kile

At this point in my life and after having struggled so much I've gotten to the point I honestly don't care enough about the C of C to fight anymore. I've checked out.

And the strange thing was it happened so fast. Just two years ago we (my wife, son, and I) were part of a vibrant active progressive congregation. We moved away due to a new job. We looked for another congregation and found that, in the area we moved to our choices were extremely limited. We chose the best of the bad and settled in. I knew the congregation was going to be much more conservative than our last and an order of magnitude more conservative than me. But I thought I was ready. We had feasted on spiritual food so richly at our previous congregation that I thought I could survive some lean times. In fact the Elders came over one evening very early on in our tenure here and we talked for a long time. I told them that I was very likely going to disagree with a lot of things and was never afraid to share my opinions. They didn't seem to have a problem with that. But now, after being a member of a congregation who has no interest in being the hands and feet of Christ but rather are just interested in behind his wagging disapproving finger, I'm done.

I didn't want to be angry or frustrated on Sunday's anymore so I just stopped caring. I would walk away from the C of C but my wife isn't ready and I'm not going to be the husband that sends the wife and kids to church while he sleeps in on Sunday. Perhaps I should, for all the good attending is doing me or anyone else. I've lost the will to care about my congregation and my brotherhood and I am ever so slowly losing the will to care about the Kingdom at all. I pray with and over my son with fervor and that's about it anymore. I don't deny Him (or Her as J so eloquently put it). I still love Him. But I don't think I've got anything for Him, at least not now. That probably doesn't make Him very happy. But damn it, I'm not even sure if I care about that all that much either.

In the back of my mind. In the recesses of my soul. I want to care. I want to feel my spirit stir. I want to engage my intellect. I want to serve. But I don't. I don't do any of those things.

I am unwhole. I am broken. I feel these things. I know these things. They torment me some nights as I try to sleep. But apathy is a damn powerful thing.

[JTB editor's note: you can find Kile's original comment here, as a response to J's post. I asked for permission to re-post his words as a stand-alone blog post, and I am grateful that he consented.]

part 3: girl meets boy

And then I became a theologian.

It happened like this:

I got a letter, a sweet, respectful, and very brief letter, from a boy I actually really didn't know that well, who was, apparently, a bit impressed with my theological ambitions. That boy's name was, of course, James Brent Bates. I wrote him back, included my email address, and pretty soon, we were emailing regularly. Like, every day. Or almost--the days I didn't get an email, I stalked about begrudging the rest of the world its sunshine and happiness.

Our first emails, I kid you not, were about the role of women in our churches.

It was love at first...well, email, I guess.

And Brent mailed me a care package that included a recording of Carroll Osburn's lecture on the role of women, the one that begins with the facetious "shut up and sit down!" quip. I invited the other American women I thought would be interested to listen to it with me, and we sat in my living room to hear it. Not everyone came. But those who did needed it. Like me, they were thirsty for some word of affirmation and hope, some indication that they hadn't somehow missed the mark by choosing to come to China to do mission work. Like me...They were like me. And not only were they like me, but so was Brent, and this mysterious Dr. Osburn, whose book on women in the church Brent was then helping to research as his graduate assistant. I wasn't alone. I wasn't crazy. (Well, I was crazy, but that's a different story.)

And I could say anything to this guy, this out-of-the-blue sympathetic and smart guy who, for some reason, replied to every lengthy email with equally lengthy replies, taking everything I said totally seriously.

And when I visited him in Abilene (also a different and crazy story), he invited me to sit in on all his MDiv courses, so I could decide whether I wanted to study theology or Bible or what, or perhaps just go on in English lit, or linguistics, or ESL, or something. And I went to his Hebrew class, where they were translating and studying the text of Ecclesiastes, and the professor, Dr. Andre Resner, not only welcomed me but actually asked me what I thought about something. And I sat in on a philosophy of religion class, which Brent wasn't even taking, just because he thought I'd be interested; and again, the professor, Dr. Frederick Aquino, not only welcomed me but included me in the discussion. And I sat in on Brent's worship course, taught by Dr. Jack Reese, where I took notes on the most fascinating things about Eucharist and a man named Justin Martyr.

And I knew, because I felt the same thrill I'd felt when studying the gospel of John with my dad as a high school kid, that this was the stuff I wanted to spend my time thinking about.

So, of course, I married the boy. (Also a different, and crazy, story.)

And he does the dishes if I cook dinner, and he has always ironed his own shirts (nowadays, they're clergy shirts with funny little collars). And he has always, always told me that this is what I should be doing: this thing, which takes my whole brain and my whole heart and consumes my waking lucid moments with its glittering, fascinating, elusive interconnectedness. This faith seeking understanding thing, this theology Thing.

So I joined him at ACU, and we took classes together: theology, philosophy of religion, church history. Sometimes my grades were better. Sometimes this really bugged him. By the end of my degree, it really bugged me that my gender--which didn't keep me from planning grad chapel services but did at that time still keep me from leading them--generated so much attention that Brent's scholarship and contributions somehow seemed eclipsed by all the light and heat. I refused to go on to doctoral study unless he did too; it seemed intolerable to me to concretize that unwanted dynamic in a piece of paper I might someday possess that he wouldn't. He made that Faustian bargain, not simply because he had some desire to go on academically himself, but because he was utterly confident that this was what I should be doing.

So, too, was my mom, who'd always said I'd end up a college professor. She also prognosticated I'd marry a man 10 years older than myself. That turned out not to be true, but even my mom can't be right all the time. So, too, was my dad, who, as a second-career preacher already in full-time ministry, was completing his own MDiv, and used to talk to me on the phone about his coursework occasionally. I send them drafts of my dissertation chapters now, which I don't think they read (who can blame them?), but they tell me they're proud of me. Maybe, crazy hippies that they were, they'd always wanted to raise a little heretic.

I landed at Princeton Theological Seminary, having been warned a few weeks before we packed the U-Haul that I should watch out, because "there's bad people up there." (Sorry, PTS readers.) Not sure what that meant, exactly, but if I was bound to go, I was charged with teaching everyone up there the Truth.

Would I have done it anyway? It's not a question I can answer. I was already pondering studying theology before China, before Brent. But would I have done it? Would I have actually applied somewhere, knowing that not only was there no place to go, but that even my imagined refuge in mission work was proving horribly false? Or would I have found something safe, something secular, something to keep me busy while I waited for Life to deliver whatever came next? Would I have done the unthinkable, and become the high school English teacher I had known for years I no wanted to be?

I thank God I don't need to know. I thank God that, out of the blue, this man saw what most wouldn't: that the defiance, the desire to shock, the need to get out, the desperate loneliness, was an expression of a self in need of a place to go, a place to be. I thank God that, out of the blue, this man didn't just offer me a place to go be myself in the small private space of our teeny-tiny home and in our marriage, as if that tiny isle of refuge (or comfortable exile?) would be sufficient. He has always understood--even before I did--that the church should be everyone's "place to go."

The Bible describes Jesus as homeless: the Son of Man had no place to lay his head. So, too, were the Israelites, the people of God, homeless for a good chunk of their history. Perhaps living with no place to go is simply the reality of vocation. But Jesus also promised us a place to go: his father's house is a mansion with many rooms; he goes before us to prepare us a place there. Some of those rooms, the old joke goes, you have to tiptoe past, because the CofC folks inside think they're the only ones up there. The rest of those many rooms, I'm sure, are plenty big to house the rest of us; but I think I'd like to knock on that CofC door awhile, and see if anyone answers, even if it's a woman's voice they hear, asking to come in, if there's a place for her there.

TKP: Not Being Able to Come Home, Part 3

For those of you who keep reading, thank you. I realize I'm not being as concise as other writers, which I wish I could say I blame on JTB, but I am truly grateful that she welcomed our stories.
***
We arrived in Abilene after our van's air conditioner broke down halfway. Fortunately, my dad had the foresight to travel at night when it was considerably cooler. My mom cried as she hugged me goodbye, but I was too busy being mesmerized by the new college atmosphere to really acknowledge her pain and loss (I was the last to leave home and the am the youngest of six children.)

My first week at ACU included a freshman ritual called "Welcome Week," which eerily reminded me of summer camp at York College, except we didn't go home afterwards. There were similar "light a candle in a room and make teenagers cry" kinds of attempts to immediately evoke intimate stories. And then the culture shock started to sink in. Over and over again I kept hearing speaker's anecdotal jokes about the "M-r-s. Degree," opportunities for older guys to get naive freshmen girls' numbers and the staggering amount of spring weddings in the Bible chapel. Having just returned from a summer of mission work I was quite taken aback by this rhetoric. And in this context I was walking up the stairs of the Bible department and ran into a Bible professor (whose friendship I respect, treasure and continue to this day) who I'd met at an incoming Bible majors' function. He smiled at me and said,

"So, are you engaged yet?"

My eyes grew very wide and I decided I would take out my frustrations about the past few days on this unsuspecting person:

"I did NOT come here to get an M-R-S degree! I came to get an education and prepare to be a minister and I would like to be treated as such!"

Oblivious to his poor timing, the man immediately changed posture and profusely apologized to me, reassuring me that of course I had come to get my education and that he was merely repeating a bad joke he told his son. More than a year later I came to talk to him in his office and he remarked at how glad he was that we became friends after that first awkward encounter. I had no idea what he was talking about until he reminded me. I laughed, because he is a strong supporter of gender inclusion within Churches of Christ. But of course I did not know that then.

As the school year began, I started my Bible major courses with vigor. After attending a couple local Churches of Christ I settled on a smaller congregation with a consider amount of theology professors and Graduate School of Theology student members. Those grad students were hilarious, mysterious, often socially awkward, but nevertheless fascinating. I couldn't get enough of them. I sat down with a male classmate and friend one evening outside of the Bible department and we talked for hours about our dreams of grad school at ACU, our MDiv and Ph.D plans that included ministry, writing, publishing and homiletics. Nothing could stop us from achieving our dreams. Except maybe politics.

The spring semester I made very official arrangements to speak with the recruiter, Dean, and several prominent faculty members of the GST (all male), to show them just how serious I was about being an MDiv student in four years. They were kind, sometimes encouraging, and honest with me. One told me that Pepperdine would offer more opportunities for me as a woman in ministry. Another told me about his daughter who struggled with her role as an MDiv graduate with no job offers. Others told me that Churches of Christ were opening up and exploring women's roles in worship and that I should go for it. Yet another told me to talk to him in four years. It was a mixed bag but I didn't really care. I was going to do it! I changed my major to Christian Ministry, which was the most versatile mix of theology and ministry courses. I went back to Tomobe, Japan the next summer, leading a team and served as a conflict resolution mediator and curriculum developer that summer.

During the next year or so I developed a passion for social justice issues in the context of Biblical theology. I was not a stellar Greek student, but I adored my female professors. I beamed with pride when I heard that a male student was giving a severe speech about women staying in their places and was thoroughly admonished using comprehensive textual criticism by a male professor. I felt like I had the support of everyone: my church, friends, mentors and school.

In the spring of my Junior year something wonderful happened. All of the Junior Bible majors were required to do a summer internship in ministry or missions. I interviewed for a chaplain and church internship position. The latter was with the Stamford Church of Christ in Connecticut, a multi-ethnic, gender-inclusive church of Christ with a heart for social justice. Debbie, the church's involvement minister, told me that she was specifically looking at hiring of a female intern. By the grace of God and generosity of Debbie, I was offered the position the next day. The church members (including some very young adorable girls) started sending me encouragement cards later that spring. I couldn't wait to get to Stamford.

That summer was glorious. I was by no means a perfect intern. I had a lot to learn and messed up quite a bit. I was shown much grace by the ministers and friends I made along the way. I started learning about the nitty gritty, heartbreaking, exhausting work of a full-time minister. I spent a weekend with a congregation in New York that had two preaching ministers-male and female. I became a contributor for Gal328.org and participated in wonderful discussions there. I taught - not only VBS arts and crafts (because I wanted to), but the youth group and adult Bible studies. I led singing in front of men and women for the first time. I was nervous and they were all so wonderful and kind.

At the end of Youth Sunday, an annual tradition where the youth group takes responsibility of the Sunday worship service, I gave my first and only sermon from the pulpit. My mother came that weekend and read a passage from Luke before I spoke. It meant so much to me to have her there - the quiet, servant-hearted woman who led the man who would become my father to Christ over 30 years before. That Sunday was deeply personal for me on so many levels; I spoke from my heart about social justice and received a warm response from the congregation. I owe this church a lot for making me into the woman I am today.

As I stood in line at the airport waiting to say goodbye in New York I was handed a small envelope by the pulpit minister, Dale. He made me promise not to read it until I went past security. After I hugged him and Debbie I walked through security and, of course, ripped open the letter from him. It read,

Dear, dear Teresa. You have what it takes.

I couldn't stop the tears and I wanted to run back through security and tell them in incomprehensible babbling that I could believe those words because of what they taught me that summer. So, to the dear and wonderful people at the Stamford Church of Christ: thank you for letting me use my gifts and my voice. I will never forget it.

TKP: Not Being Able to Come Home, Part 2

After my first taste of advocacy as a young teenager with a cassette tape recording, I remember several key issues with gender and my church experiences. In high school I started attending two additional church of Christ summer camps, desperate to form a spiritual connection with people my age. I always loved singing at camp; it wasn't at all like the singing at our house church. There were so many talented singers, and if you didn't know the right tune or words, you learned quickly. I wrote my first songs at Bible camp; one I sang with a friend at a talent show and another that I got to teach our singing class (after I taught it to a boy and he sang it to the class, of course.) It was exhilarating. I believed that this wonderful, amazing tradition of Christian songwriters was more relevant to me. I appreciated the poetry and lyrics of the songs I sang and started to think critically about the conflict between the words I sang and the words I spoke or thought in my mind.

That summer at camp one of my favorite staff members was a young college-aged woman whose name I do not remember. She was the epitome of cool with her icthus symbol tattoo on her ankle, her cute ripped light washed jeans and her vivacious personality. She was assigned the role of "recreation director" or something to that effect. It was basically a glorified PE/Arts & Crafts position for someone who didn't want to be a cook or counselor. She expressed her frustration at not being able to teach any classes; not just Bible classes, but any sort of class, because she was a woman. I didn't think too much about it then, but looking back I see the beginning of my questions.

The other gender-related camp issue was the Big Controversial Issue of whether or not a woman could lead a four-part song that began with a soprano or alto melody. You know, one of those "pretty songs" church of Christ schools like to sing over and over. I loved singing them, because we didn't have enough singers who knew four-part harmony at my house church. One night at campfire one girl started to lead a song that was not one of these songs. She just started singing a regular song that didn't require a female lead. I didn't find out what happened to that girl, but I'm sure that a few people took her aside to explain the usurping error of her ways. I was too busy singing the pretty songs to pay much attention.

When I was 16, I began a wonderful relationship with several international exchange students at my small high school. We had never had so many exchange students in one year and I thought it was wonderful. We formed a close-knit group of the six exchange students and three Americans. We spent Wednesday nights at a Congregational youth group. I had a couple individual Let's Start Talking classes using a simplified version of Luke to teach English. That fall I applied to do missions work in Nairobi, which sounded exotic, exciting and far away from Iowa. I could ride some giant zebras, tame lions and maybe help a few orphans along the way. I was ready for my life as a missionary (or so I thought.) I was informed a few months later that since I would only be 17 by the following summer I would not be allowed to travel across country. I was offered a domestic missions trip with the same missions group.

Instead I got on the Internet and searched for church of Christ missionaries who might want a summer intern. I e-mailed one in Europe and was referred to a couple in Tomobe, Ibaraki, Japan. They were long-time missionaries and alumni of Pepperdine University and they said, "Yes!" I spent that spring writing fundraising letters, making travel arrangements and studying Japanese with the one Japanese exchange student at my high school.

My eight weeks in Japan were amazing. I was a real life missionary and I loved it. I returned to the States for a week and then rode with my parents 1,000 miles to Abilene Christian University, where I promptly changed my major from English to Missions. For the first time in my life I was about to experience an American church of Christ as my home church and a church of Christ school with very interesting views on women in worship.

by TKP: Not Being Able to Come Home, Part 1

I was absolutely livid. As I sat on the couch and squeezed my fiance's hand so tight it turned colors, my mind was furiously racing.

How can they just sit here and not say anything? Why are the loudest supporters of women's spiritual second-class status female? Did I spend the past seven years preparing for and practicing church leadership just so I could come home to this?

I had so many questions and comments that I wanted to contribute to the discussion of F. LaGard Smith's Male Spiritual Leadership, but I kept them to myself. After all, I was a woman in a church of Christ. It didn't matter that this was the intimate house church that lovingly raised me with my parents since I was an infant. It didn't matter that I was baptized in a literally ice covered river in March when I was 13 and then surrounded by these people with towels and blankets to keep me warm. I didn't feel warm anymore. I was heartbroken, frustrated and angry.

As my fiance and I drove back to my parents' house that Sunday evening we couldn't stop talking about what had happened. John, my fiance, pointed out that the man leading the discussion had problems pronouncing the relatively easy words in the book, while his wife (who had just taken off her head scarf since the 'official service' was over) had to frequently correct his pronunciation. We also discussed the fact that another woman often corrected her husband's off key lead singing, but only after he had started the song off himself.

We talked about my experiences growing up in a loosely defined house church of Christ in rural Iowa. My ties to the mainstream church of Christ came through reading The Christian Chronicle, going to Bible Camp, youth rallies, The Tulsa Soul Winning Workshop, and being recruited by York College on numerous occasions. I loved my church growing up; my mother was frequently my Sunday School teacher and she was a nurturing and creative hands-on teacher. Even though we had to rotate homes every Sunday (some weeks traveling as far as 70 miles) it was always worth it, because we'd enjoy a meal together afterwards. This was my second family.

I began noticing gender issues after I became a teenager. One day in Junior High, after listening to a riveting Voice of the Martyrs radio program about current church persecution (which I knew nothing about), I became convicted of the human rights atrocities happening every day. I tape recorded the next radio program and asked my father if I could play it for our church, as it was being held at our house and it was his turn to lead a lesson. He agreed and we all listened to it that Sunday. After we prayed about it together, our church decided to contribute money to sending Bibles to Christian persecuted areas. That day I became an advocate. The ministry bug had bitten me.

gal328

So, those of you are not (or never have been) CofC may not be interested, but gal328.org is a marvelous website to check out if you are. Since I am already most decidedly convicted on the subject of Gender Justice and Churches of Christ, my favorite part of the site is the forum. Sadly, over the last year the forum has slowed down quite a bit. I faithfully checked it every day for months and months even though there was rarely a new post to read. I now probably check every week (or so). It's not that gender justice is any less urgent or fascinating a topic of discussion among us; just that, I think, everyone who reads and participates in the forum conversation has been there awhile and has had ample opportunity to share and say what they think to a sympathetic audience of like-minded people. And now that we've done that, we exist in companionable virtual silence with each other, just occasionally checking in.

Not that companionable silences are bad, but they make for a boring blog. So I've posted a comment on the forum hoping that it will stimulate some conversation. And my hope is that I can continue to every so often post something that will elicit our lurkers to comment and interact with each other. Since I posted a couple days ago and no one has responded, I figured it couldn't hurt to use this blog to direct people there (since there is some overlap in readership).

And if anyone has ideas about strategies to get the conversation re-started over there, I would love it if you'd share them with me. You can post a comment here or you can email me (my email address is available through my blogger profile).