Feminism and Religion

Misogyny in the Republican Party by Gina Messina

Gina Messina-Dysert profile In my home city of Cleveland, Ohio, yesterday Donald Trump received the nomination to run as the Republican presidential candidate in the 2016 election. While we were on an upswing following the Cavaliers NBA championship and have been highlighted as “Believeland,” the nomination of Trump is another disappointing and health hazardous event that can be added to the reasons Cleveland is sometimes called “the mistake on the lake.”

There are so many reasons to be angered by the nomination of Trump; his blatant racism and bigotry, incitement of violence, ignorance of domestic or foreign policy, his insistence on discussing his penis size, and the list goes on. With the recent tragic murders of Alton Sterling, Philandro Castile, and eight police officers in Dallas and Baton Rouge, Sterling’s 15 year old son has called for us to come together as “one united family” and end the violence. Trump on the other hand, capitalized on their deaths as a way to highlight his “law and order” campaign and argue that Obama and Hillary Clinton are weak.

We’ve seen time and time again that Trump is unable to articulate anything meaningful in relation to his ability to fulfill the role of POTUS and his hateful rhetoric is influencing the ongoing violence in our nation. Critical points are being made about an anti-immigrant, anti-Muslim, anti-Latino, pro-white supremacy Trump; however, I am concerned that appropriate attention is not being given to the anti-woman sentiment of Trump and the GOP in general.

Oppressions are deeply intertwined and must be uprooted together. And so, the misogyny that exists within the Republican party must also be acknowledged as problematic.

Trump has certainly been condemned for his statements about women; however as a whole the Republican party is focused on a campaign that is anti-woman and ordained by God. My question is why are many much more willing to acknowledge racist and bigoted statements, but often turn a blind eye to the repeated right wing attempts to over turn Roe vs. Wade, defund Planned Parenthood, and regulate women’s sexuality in the name of religion?

Despite the fact that we are a secular nation, the Republican Party has claimed Christianity as a weapon against women’s human rights and it has been accepted as fair game in the world of politics. Trump’s argument, along with Gingrich’s and others that we should create tracking systems or ban Muslims from coming into the nation has been immediately recognized as racist, ethnocentric, and fear mongering (and rightfully so). But attempting to control women’s bodies and send us back to biblical times, well, it is something that many shrug their shoulders at and call a reasonable political issue.

All forms of oppression need to be addressed; you cannot uproot one, you must uproot all. And so, if we are to properly address the bigoted statements coming from the Republican nominee, and booming through Cleveland at the moment being, we must acknowledge the complexities of these issues, the ways they are intertwined, and why all are unacceptable.

Gina Messina, Ph.D. is an American feminist scholar, Catholic theologian, author, and activist. She is also Co-founder of Feminism and Religion. She writes for The Huffington Post, has authored multiple publications and is the co-editor of the highly acclaimed Faithfully Feminist: Jewish, Christian, and Muslim Feminists on Why We Stay. Messina is a widely sought after speaker and has presented across the US at universities, organizations, conferences and on national platforms including appearances on MSNBC, Tavis Smiley, NPR and the TEDx stage. She has also spoken at the Commission on the Status of Women at the United Nations to discuss matters impacting the lives women around the world. Messina is active in movements to end violence against women and explores opportunities for spiritual healing. Connect with her on Twitter @FemTheologian, Facebook, and her website ginamessinadysert.com.

Get Compassion: Reflections on Childbirth and Privilege by Katey Zeh

Jessi Klein wrote an Op-Ed in last Sunday’s New York Times entitled “Get the Epidural” in which she takes on the arguments for “natural” childbirth and makes an astute point about its premise: “It’s interesting that no one cares very much about women doing anything ‘naturally’ until it involves their being in excruciating pain.”

Thinking back to the months leading up to my daughter’s birth, I remember occasions similar to the one Klein describes in this article in which I was asked about my pre-natal care and plans for the birth, though admittedly they did not often come from strangers in the grocery store line. While Klein’s response was different from mine (I birthed without pain medication, and as you might have guessed from the title, she planned for an epidural), we each experienced feeling judged by others when they heard about our intended plans for birthing.

Klein alludes to this childbirth debate as symptomatic of our increasingly competitive culture around motherhood. I agree with her. But I worry about what happens when we talk about birth as primarily a parenting event rather than a physical one. When we divorce our intentions for our babies from what we desire for our bodies.

As with any piece having to do with childbirth, this article made the rounds on my Facebook feed and incited the usual divisiveness that all social media posts seem to do, splitting my friends and acquaintances into those who felt affirmed by Klein’s words and those who felt silenced by them. My reaction was to applaud that we have the ability to make different decisions about our health care, and that no matter how we plan our births—or how they turn out in the end—that is something to celebrate.

In my attempt to be diplomatic, I also quickly overlooked the assumptions of privilege at play in Klein’s piece and in my own response. Let’s start with the concept of a birth plan. A plan assumes that different options are available and acquirable. I’ve often written about how my pregnancy was one of the times when I felt my white, educated, middle-class privilege most acutely. I was able to have an intervention-free birth in large part because my family could afford to pay a doula on top of covering the costly medical fees related to the pregnancy and birth.

I wonder among my circles of privileged parents, why do we occupy so much of our time and expend so much of our energy arguing over which school of medically-sound thought regarding childbirth is best when there are so many people who bring life into world with inadequate or no health care at all?

Years before I got pregnant I began working with faith communities as an advocate for the full range of reproductive health care needs that people have throughout their lives, including safe and respectful childbirth. I’ve spent a lot of time reading and retelling the biblical stories of women giving birth and comparing them to the stories of global women today who face enormous challenges in their labor and deliveries. Tragically each year hundreds of thousands of women lose their lives as they bring new life into the world.

Pieces like Klein’s remind me of how easily people like me get caught up in our own spheres of experience and become blinded by the privilege that affords us the ability to fixate on details of our own lives rather than turning our gaze toward the world’s immense suffering.

As a faith-based advocate for gender justice, I’m currently working on a book with the FAR Press called Women Rising in which I look at the lives of ten biblical women through the lens of our current struggles for women and girl’s freedom and well being around the globe. One of my chapters focuses on the story from the book of Genesis in which Rachel dies in childbirth, and another looks at Mary’s delivery of Jesus as the miracle of maternal survival. My hope is that those of us who identify with the sacred stories of the Jewish and Christian scriptures will re-encounter them in a way that leads us back to a place of compassion for one another rather than judgment.

Katey Zeh, M.Div is a strategist, writer, and educator who inspires intentional communities to create a more just, compassionate world through building connection, sacred truth telling, and striving for the common good. She has written for outlets including Huffington Post, Sojourners, Religion Dispatches, Response magazine, the Good Mother Project, the Journal for Feminist Studies in Religion, and the United Methodist News Service. Find her on Twitter at @kateyzeh or on her website www.kateyzeh

“All Children Are Our Children” by Carol P. Christ

“All children are our children.” As I was posting my recent blog about the shooting of black men by the police, these words came into my mind with the force of revelation. At the time I was looking at a photograph of Philando Castile, taken at his place of work. Yes, I thought, my heart opening: “he is my child too.” This widening of the heart is at the center of the maternal values of ancient and contemporary matriarchal cultures around the world. It is a feeling some of us who were mothered well enough or who mothered children—including children not our own—carry within us. Is this the healing balm our world needs today?

Maternal values? So many of us turn up our noses at such a “gendered” term. Perhaps we were not mothered enough in our families of origin. Perhaps we still feel un-mothered. Perhaps we don’t want to be told that we have to become mothers. Perhaps we fear that if we become mothers, we will be only mothers—all of our other ambitions and desires will have to take second place.

The last is the reason I did not have children during the years when I put my career first. Continue reading ““All Children Are Our Children” by Carol P. Christ”

Nobody’s Disciple by Maeve Rhuad aka the Celtic Magdalen via Elizabeth Cunningham

Elizabeth Cunningham headshot jpeg Since beginning her posts for FAR four years ago, Elizabeth has featured an excerpt from my chronicles each July in honor of my feast day on the 22^nd. At least I thought it was my Feast day. It has been brought to our attention that Pope Francis only recently elevated the 22^nd to the status of a Feast. Before that, it was merely a Memorial of me as a saint, whether optional or obligatory I am not sure. The only thing more elevated than a Feast day is a Solemnity. (Needless to say my mother-in-law, aka the Blessed Virgin Mary, has one of those.)

You may not know me as Maeve, the Celtic Magdalen. Mary Magdalen, who she was (or is) should or could have been is a highly charged subject. Not very much is known about me, really, which is why legends, novels, and films abound. I’m a storied woman, to borrow Natalie Weaver’s term. There are fourteen references to me in the Gospels. I am associated with the non-canonical Gospel of Mary (I believe the credit for that should go to Mary of Bethany whom many people conflate with me). Pope Gregory is largely responsible for my lugubrious image as a penitent prostitute. Continue reading “Nobody’s Disciple by Maeve Rhuad aka the Celtic Magdalen via Elizabeth Cunningham”

O Tempora o mores by Oxana Poberejnaia

oxana I have entitled this post O Tempora o mores after a sentence by Cicero, meaning “Oh what times! Oh what customs!” I would like to discuss how some of the messages we get from religious writings are defined by the age in which they were written.

As a result, I argue that it is wiser to pay more attention to the overall message of a given spiritual tradition, rather than to subject our view on a single quote.

Phra_Malai_Manuscript_LACMA_M.76.93.2_(11_of_21) One of the most popular texts in Thai Buddhism (which is of Theravada tradition) is called Phra Malai Klon Suat, “Chanted Version of Phra Malai.” It was reproduced copiously in the 19^th century, with the earliest version dating from the 18^th century. However, its origins are believed to be more ancient, coming from the original Indian Buddhism.

Continue reading “O Tempora o mores by Oxana Poberejnaia”

I’m Every (Bit A) Woman by Vibha Shetiya

IMG_20160112_101035 I often recall the time many years ago when a relative sympathized with the fact that my kittie had been spayed. Pigou was one of five girl cats we had and rather than face the difficult task of having to find homes for all of their offspring, or worse, put their lives in danger for lack of adequate care, we decided to get Mama Cat along with her four daughters fixed. My aunt’s words still resonate in my ears: “That is so sad. After all, every woman nurtures a desire to be a mother.” I remember feeling terrible. My parents and I had just committed the grave sin of severing Pigou (along with her sisters) from her identity – her natural role of mother. As I have gotten older, my views on Pigou and her lack of choice in the whole matter have changed, although I acknowledge that it may remain an ethical issue for some. Much as I empathize, however, Pigou and animal rights are not the center of this post, although a related topic is – that of motherhood.[1]

I don’t have children. It is out of choice. I’m not sure when exactly I consciously decided to forego being a parent, but I suspect the seeds were sown sometime during my teenage years, the result of looking at the world around me. In particular, the memories of my mother turning from the self-assured, even independent woman I knew as a child to someone who was forced to limit herself to home and family later in life and get nothing in return; a picture which probably made me think that was what motherhood was really all about. Continue reading “I’m Every (Bit A) Woman by Vibha Shetiya”

What My Mothers and Mentors Taught Me about Self-Care by Elise M. Edwards

During another week of killings, war, protests, and debates about whether Black Lives Matter or Blue Lives Matter, I’m concerned about the toll it takes on those who are witnessing the violence and fighting for justice.

I’m not on the front lines of these battles, but I can feel my energy draining, nonetheless. Over the past few days, while I’ve stayed informed about the latest tragedies and conflicts, I’ve intentionally limited my exposure to most news and social media outlets. I’ve begun preparing for a contemplative retreat with other women who also care about justice. For me to continue to participate in any effort of transforming society, culture, or the church, I must nurture my mind, spirit, and body.

Audre Lorde put it like this:

“Caring for myself Is not self-indulgence. It is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.”

Self-care is a radical practice of self-love. It is absolutely necessary when engaged in conflict against those who do not show love to you, or worse, those who seek to destroy you. Your survival and your flourishing are defiantly brave. Self-care honors the God who created you, the One who loves you, and the Spirit who sustains you. Continue reading “What My Mothers and Mentors Taught Me about Self-Care by Elise M. Edwards”

Book Review by Mary Sharratt: ESTHER by Rebecca Kanner

esther

We have been lost to each other for so long. My name means nothing to you. My memory is dust. This is not your fault or mine. The chain connecting mother to daughter was broken and the word passed into the keeping of men, who had no way of knowing. That is why I became a footnote, my story a brief detour between the well-known history of my father and the celebrated chronicle of my brother.

-Anita Diamant, The Red Tent

To a large extent, women have been written out of history. Their lives and deeds have become lost to us. To uncover the buried histories of women, we must act as detectives, studying the clues left from ages lost.

At its best, historical fiction can write women back into history and challenge our misconceptions about women in the past. Anita Diamant’s novel, The Red Tent, became such an iconic classic because she turned our stereotyped image of women in the Old Testament on its head by allowing the biblical Dinah to tell her own story in her own voice. Continue reading “Book Review by Mary Sharratt: ESTHER by Rebecca Kanner”

Ignoring Isn’t The Same As Ignorance by Darla Graves Palmer

DarlaProfile My book club recently read The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood, a futuristic novel wherein women’s reproductive rights, as well as the women themselves, are controlled entirely by those in power. I’ve wanted to read it for a long time and appreciated this opportunity, though I ended up quite disturbed—not just by the tale, but by our obliviousness at times to the possibilities of what could potentially become us. During our club discussion, one of the women commented that she couldn’t understand the point or purpose of writing such a book as she felt it was too far-fetched. I was startled by her remark because I easily viewed it as a cautionary story, one that had presented what could happen if we ignore history and current events.

One pivotal passage for me in the novel was this:

“Is that how we lived, then? But we lived as usual. Everyone does, most of the time. Whatever is going on is as usual. Even this is as usual, now.

We lived, as usual, by ignoring. Ignoring isn’t the same as ignorance, you have to work at it.

Nothing changes instantaneously: in a gradually heating bathtub you’d be boiled to death before you knew it. There were stories in the newspapers, of course, corpses in ditches or the woods, bludgeoned to death or mutilated, interfered with, as they used to say, but they were about other women, and the men who did such things were other men. None of them were the men we knew. The newspaper stories were like dreams to us, bad dreams dreamt by others. How awful, we would say, and they were, but they were awful without being believable. They were too melodramatic, they had a dimension that was not the dimension of our lives.

We were the people who were not in the papers. We lived in the blank white spaces at the edges of print. It gave us more freedom.

We lived in the gaps between the stories.” (56-57)

Continue reading “Ignoring Isn’t The Same As Ignorance by Darla Graves Palmer”

Dealing with Despair by Carol P. Christ

Philando Castile, school cafeteria worker, killed driving while black

In a state of shock after the police shootings of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile, I turned to my Facebook feed, looking for community in my grief and hoping to make sense of what had happened. The statement, “He would not have been shot if he had been white,” referring to Philando Castile, appeared several times. The first time I saw it, I responded, “He would not even have been stopped if he had been white.” Think about it if you are white: how many times have you been pulled over by the police?

I can answer that question: in the United States, only once, and that was because I made a second illegal U-turn at the same stop-lighted intersection as a teenager. The policeman issued me two tickets, stating that he had been willing to let the first offence go. This is what white privilege means. Continue reading “Dealing with Despair by Carol P. Christ”