Sometimes I think it happened gradually. Other times it feels like sudden change. Either way I find myself in an in-between space that is my life.
With apologies to Victor Turner and his cultural anthropological appropriation of liminality as a threshold space, I have come to view my liminal living as a more permanent dwelling place these days. Turner’s category of liminality locates subjects in the betwixt and between as they move from one manifestation of identity in community to a new kind of integration or role in community. I am starting to wonder, however, if the thresholds are actually dwelling places for some of us in this world.
I don’t know if that means I am actually more marginal than I am liminal. The margins are margins because they remain on the outskirts and they help define the boundaries. Margins are permanent. Am I marginalized if I live at the edges of the communities and identities I use to occupy, perhaps never to return to the bosom of the center? I hesitate to make such a claim mostly because I still occupy privileged spaces not the least of which are those constructed from how whiteness grants access and authority in this world.
Perhaps I am at work constructing my own kind of adjacency to the circles and institutions that had so thoroughly defined me—still touching them, still in relationship, but distinct and other at the same time. Adjacencies have their own inner logic, their own discreet existence, their own integrity and functionality. They are contiguous and therefore affected by their neighbors, but not the same, not necessarily dependent on them for life.
As a constructive theologian I still feel drawn to the category of liminality as having the most descriptive potency for this state of existence that has strange dissonance, pregnant possibilities, and a critical edge. Liminality captures the aesthetic of where I am as a theologian without an institution, a preacher and pastor without a congregation, and now a coach’s wife without a team and a human being without a stable community.
This new layer of change is where the gradual and the sudden swirl together to form an abstract of living liminality. There are not clear lines and boundaries, but suggestive hues and tones. There are not discernible shapes but instead interesting directions and connections. One can follow any number of paths and come to something unexpected. I don’t know that this space is necessarily in between. It could be home.
For just about my entire adult life I’ve been on and off script for how a woman, a mother, an academic, a minister, and a wife are supposed to make a life. Some could look at my life and see symptoms of a pat traditionalism: My husband has been the primary bread winner, I have two kids (one boy, one girl), we have pets, we are home owners.
A closer look yields a more complicated existence: I am a PhD, feminist theologian married to a professional football coach (12 years in the NFL, 9 years in Division I college), we have lived all over the country and I have commuted to get degrees and/or served churches in every place we’ve called home. Several years ago when we moved to our fourth city in three years I decided pastoring churches wasn’t working for my family. Even before that I had decided with all the moving around we did for my husband’s job that a tenure track academic job didn’t seem like a viable option for me.
In the course of these practical and contextual decisions I got deeper into my own writing and my own work. Fragments of my identity as woman, wife, survivor, writer, mother, body, believer continue to integrate themselves into my work. From early on, life has invited me into spaces of critical and intense work on race, most pointedly that work has helped me to excavate the contours and shadows of my whiteness. From all these contingencies and invitations emerged theological, pastoral, intellectual, and existential sensitivities that I probably would not have befriended as profoundly had I been wrapped up in institutional politics and hoop jumping.
Some of the blessings of living liminality for me are a deep peace and a generous open space for my own voice and uniqueness to unfold. This peace and generosity include grief and critical awareness especially when it comes to the dynamics of power. Feminism has been both an easy and a difficult identity for me to carry through it all.
Lately this liminality has gotten more thoroughgoing than I was prepared for. Now I am not just freelancing and working inside/outside of the institutions that formed me (church and academy to name the big two), but I am putting a for sale sign up in front of our house. That’s not a new transitional symbol for me. My husband’s job has been in this kind of threshold space before. That’s how football works. But this time is different.
The common trajectory for our transitions would be more in line with Turner’s use of liminal—my husband would be in a transition stage between one community identity and whatever job comes next. As his family we would come alongside and our identities in the community would have an entry point with this newly defined role of my husband’s. Each of us would then expand out from there to make our place in that new space, to make a home place for each of us and for all of us together. That’s the normal way it’s worked all these years.
This time we have made some choices as a family. We’ve said no to the same way. My husband is taking a year off of coaching—it sounds innocent enough, a sabbatical of sorts. It’s been more like Pandora’s box than like a sweet rest though. This time around, the critical questions about power, privilege, and identity have seeped into the male-centric world of football that we have been tangled up with all these years. In some ways, the questions have been ones I’ve asked for a long, long time about my husband’s work. And still in others, this is a new way of being in relationship with this circle of power and influence. It will come as no surprise that many of these critical questions are repellent to the structures and frameworks of the football world.
I am learning that living liminality means eventually everything is in-between, everything is surfaced as a point of contention. Every layer of living is characterized by conflicting discourses, competing needs, and critical edges. Wisdom comes from these unblunted edges. And they are sharp and can cut deeply into the givens that prop of everyday life just beneath our consciousness. And these questions fertilize what can be and encourage growth and change. And they include painful decisions with ambiguous possibilities.
These edges, these margins, these thresholds echo with the same discordant and harmonious vibrations that being a feminist, an antiracist, and a Jesus follower have had for me all these years. There is such freedom, such anguish, such generosity, and such loss. Now this rhythm is everything—pulsing with possibility without much space to get comfortable.
What’s a feminist to do in such a complicated, dangerous space? A culture of linearity says just bide your time and something better will come along. But I think I better not waste much time waiting for a scripted reintegration. Living liminality is a habitable, maybe even hospitable, dwelling place after all.
Marcia Mount Shoop is a theologian and Presbyterian Minister who lives in Chapel Hill, NC. Her book Let the Bones Dance: Embodiment and the Body of Christ frames much of her work in churches and beyond. She has a PhD in Religious Studies from Emory University and a MDiv from Vanderbilt Divinity School. At www.marciamountshoop.com Marcia blogs on everything from feminism to family to football. Her blog series “Calling Audibles” is a feminist theological exploration of big-time football.
9 thoughts on “Living Liminality: Of Thresholds and Dwelling Places by Marcia W. Mount Shoop”
thanks for these reflections — from all of us who are dwelling with similar struggles, ambiguities, and possibilities…
Thank you for your comment. Dwelling in these spaces can be difficult and it is a blessing to share those spaces with others.
Hello, I resonate to what you are experiencing in so many ways, and our background is similar in some ways. I grew up in Virginia in the 50’s , so I am older than you appear to , 72 to be exact. I graduated from Meredith College in Raleigh, not far from Chapel Hill, served as a short term fraternal worker in Egypt teaching English to young Egyptian women for three years,then went to Union Presbyterian Seminary in Richmond, was ordained in Atlanta Presbytery in 1969, was co pastor tin Atlanta for three years, then went into pastoral counseling, moved to California, where I met and interacted with women theological students in Berkeley and San Rafael, including MaryHunt, Loey Powell,and others. My theological journey has now taken me beyond atonement theology and way out into the galaxies. I love studying about universes, recent discoveries about the history of this universe, interacting with other faith groups, including Unity which has a metaphysical interpretation of things, so my theology has changed to a point where I barely have a language to describe it. I haven’t read your book yet, but will do so soon. Also,I notice You are wearing a Carolina Blue shirt in your picture, so you must not be far from reality, right? I hope we’ll be back in touch with each other, Liz Hill-Sainio.
Thank you for your comment. I appreciate hearing more about resonances with your story. It sounds like we’ve lived in a lot of the same places–and more than that, we’ve explored some of the same ambiguous and unruly spaces theologically and spiritually. I hope you will check out my website and stay in touch.
Thank you for a thought-provoking post. I think this line — “I am starting to wonder, however, if the thresholds are actually dwelling places for some of us in this world.” — sums up the situation for so many people these days, or at least for a high percentage of the people that I know.
Yes, you are right. I think more and more people are living in these liminal spaces and modes in less transitional and more permanent ways. This kind of space-dwelling tells us something about the time in which we live and the massive transitions that the whole world is living into. Thank you for your comment. Blessings to you.
Marcia, thank you for sharing your wisdom with us. It seems that, ever on the precipice of on-going creation, we are pressed to liminal spaces. But maybe it’s in these spaces, these chaos filled liminalities (or marginalities?), that creativity and courage shine so brightly. I think that those liminal-dwellers are met there by the Spirit, ever calling life into being. Maybe it’s not so bad to be on the edge after all. Peace to you.
Thank you for your comment. Yes, the Spirit’s generosity is palpable in liminality. It is a space of vitality, zest. And because of that vitality it is also a space not without pain and loss. That’s not a bad thing even as it is not an easy thing. It is the Spirit’s generosity that makes these spaces conducive to life and growth and not a space of languishing. Thank you, again, for your comment.