And Jephthah made a vow to the Lord, and said, “If you will give the Ammonites into my hand, then whoever comes out of the doors of my house to meet me, when I return victorious, shall be the Lord’s, to be offered up by me as a burnt offering…Then Jephthah came to his home at Mizpah; and there was his daughter coming out to meet him with hand drums and with dancing…he did to her according to the vow he had made…” (Judges 11:30, 34, 39)
When I was a little girl I used to make up routines to perform for my family. From Tina Turner’s “What’s Love Got to Do With It” to Michael Jackson’s “Beat It” I can remember making up creative choreography and performing in front of the affirming audience that was my family. Often times, my routines were accompanied by props, such as a hula hoop, roller skates, or an unwilling younger brother. Whether I had props or not, there was always a big smile on my face as I twirled and leapt to the tunes on my family’s 8-track, record, or cassette player. Half the fun was making up the routine and practicing until it was performance perfect. The other half of the fun was the response on my family’s faces as I forced them to “watch me, watch me!” once again. Despite the cheesiness of my routines and my silly props, they watched with delight, clapped, and encouraged me to dance all the more. Such is the experience for many fortunate children: choreographing routines, drawing pictures, making up skits and plays, and practicing to make their parents proud. Continue reading “Painting Jephthah’s Daughter by Angela Yarber”
I grew up Seventh-day Adventist and was educated at Seventh-day Adventist schools all the way through college. I can tell endless quirky stories about growing up – about the time my parents gave me The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe to read at the age of seven and I was certain, certain, that they had no idea what devilish literature they had given me (all those horrible hags and werewolves), so I promised myself never to tell them because they would feel so bad for having led me astray. (I figured it out when I reread the story at the age of nine.) About my joy in meeting missionaries from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, or Jehovah’s Witnesses, at the train station on my way to and from school, so that we could proof text against each other. I was always certain that my marked Bible (marked with Sabbath texts, carefully traced with different colored pens, based on a pamphlet I had picked up somewhere) would eventually lead someone to the truth. (Again, I was nine.) As I entered adolescence, I became increasingly worried about the early Adventist dictum that the degree of responsibility you have as a believer is proportional to the degree of light you have been given – after all, I had a lot of light! In fact, I knew the truth.
But no stories like this will tell the truth of my relationship with the church. Yes, I grew up in ways that seem strange to many people: keeping Saturday holy starting Friday at sundown, without TV or movies until about the age of eleven, as a life-long vegetarian (although I became a pescetarian in my twenties), believing that Jesus Christ will return soon, having read the Bible cover to cover by the age of nine (do you see a pattern emerging?), and so on. Having spent the last decade plus outside Adventist institutions, I know much more than I did then about the ways in which my upbringing and beliefs were unusual by mainstream standards. Yet unlike many people who become theologians, and unlike many women who become feminist theologians, I never experienced the church as a particularly repressive site, even though the external forms of my life look very different now. I loved the church, and despite some unfortunate experiences with authority during my high school and college years, the church gave me gifts that I have valued ever since. Continue reading “Remember the Sabbath Day: The Cost of Difference by Linn Marie Tonstad”
As a Baha’i woman, I often ask myself if feminism is compatible with religion. And most of the times, I tend to answer no. Feminism is defined as a movement to end sexism, which is further defined as prejudice, stereotyping, or discrimination, typically against women, on the basis of sex. Any such movement should attempt to eradicate the social norms and religious and cultural values that pressure people into adopting certain roles, attributes or duties, or limit their rights and responsibilities, based on their sex. Religions, on the other hand, very often do assign roles, duties and rights to people based on their sex. A religion can be compatible with feminism only if it is silent on the subject of people’s sex, unless it asserts that sex is not a factor in determining people’s roles or lifestyles.
The Baha’i Faith is definitely not so. Born around 170 years ago in Iran, the Baha’i faith is a somewhat new religion, supposedly meant for the current time. Still, there are particular cases of assignment of different roles to women and men at the level of individual life, family, and society. Men are, for example, required to do a pilgrimage if they are financially capable of it, and women have the right to choose it, though are not required. Women can choose between fasting or not, and saying obligatory prayers or an alternative prayer, during menstruation. Women are deprived the right to be elected as members of the Universal House of Justice. Mothers have a right for financial support from their husbands, but not the opposite, while they still retain their other rights. A dowry is required to be given from man to woman for a marriage. In cases where there is no ‘last will and testament’ of a deceased person (which is not supposed to happen very often, since Baha’is are required by Bahaullah to write a will to determine how to dispose their property as they wish), some of their female relatives receive an inheritance slightly less than the male relatives. Girls get the priority in education if the opportunities for educating all children are limited. Continue reading “Is My Baha’i Faith Compatible with Feminism? by Saba Farbodkia”
At some point in most of my days, I will center myself down with a glass of whiskey. It is not the effects of the wonderful spirit that draw me to it so much as the myriad of flavors contained therein. A good whiskey is like a good person; it will unfold with layers over time. A good whiskey is always the same, always reminding you of why you loved it in the first place, but always fresh, exciting, and nuanced. The experience of whiskey is a deeply spiritual one for me, and one that helps inform the way I move in the world. Despite the fact that many whiskey-lovers experience whiskey in similar ways, whiskey brings with it negative binaries, especially in the United States. Chief among these binary stereotypes are the two myths I despise the most: whiskey is a man’s drink and whiskey is antithetical to religion. As someone who tends bar for a living, I see these myths perpetuated all too often. “I don’t want that fruity drink; do I look like a chick to you?” “Of course I want another drink. What am I? A Christian?” Statements like these motivated me to start writing about whiskey in the first place, and Fred Minnick’s recent book, Whiskey Women: The Untold Story of How Women Saved Bourbon, Scotch, and Irish Whiskey, and the increasingly progressive whiskey-blogging community have helped me gain the courage to spread the gospel of the history and meaning of whiskey especially as it relates to women and religion. Continue reading “Women, Religion, and Whiskey by Phil Conner”
I have been drawn to the Goddess for a variety of reasons. Initially, as a young woman, She spoke to me of my own power, self-worth, self-determination and my/every woman’s inherent beauty. She lent Her hand to my emerging sense of independence from male domination.
Over the years my experience of Goddess deepened. At times I feel Her as manifest in me and as a symbol of my own power. At other times She is who I pray to for both personal and community help.
Feminism and Religion was founded in the late spring of 2011. Throughout the summer Gina Messina-Dysert hounded me about submitting a blog while I ignored her emails because I didn’t think I wanted to take on a new project. Gina was persistent nonetheless. Finally I decided that it would be easier to take an excerpt from a book review I had recently written than to explain why I didn’t want to write something for the blog, and so “Exciting New Research on Matriarchal Societies” became my first contribution.
It has occurred to me that it’s possible that some of the bloggers and readers of this site may not know very much about pagans, so here’s a little New Year’s lesson. The first thing to know is that pagans are almost by definition rebels. That means any generalization anyone may make will almost certainly have a thousand exceptions. You may have heard what Will Rogers wrote in 1932: “I am not a member of any organized political party. I am a Democrat.” Well, the same goes for pagans: many of us joke that we don’t belong to an organized religion. “Pagan,” by the way, is the generic term. Witches, Wiccans, and eclectics (among others, see below) are specific terms. Many of us belong to what are called traditions, which are somewhat analogous to the Protestant denominations. Some traditions are said to go back to the Middle Ages (or further back), but this is generally nonsense. Paganism as it is practiced today is a modern religion looking for (and—voilà! finding!) roots in the ancient and classical pantheons or in Old Europe, where archaeology shows us that the Goddess was worshipped thousands of years before Abraham met his god, ca. 2000 BCE (see Marija Gimbutas’ text for more information on this). Continue reading “Who Are the Pagans? by Barbara Ardinger”
“Furthermore, like Obama, [de Blasio] projects a masculinity that is empathic and introspective — anathema to the patriarchal attitudes that dominate hierarchal institutions like the police.”
I wish the analysis that accompanies this quote had been mine, but maybe I should be glad that it comes from aninsightful young man who goes by the name liamcdg. He who argues that the real beef the New York police have with Bill de Blasio is his challenge to their definition of masculinity as dominance, or shall we say white male dominance.
As noted by liamcdg, in the NYPD version of reality, parents should teach children to comply “to comply with New York City police officers even if they think it’s unjust.” In terms of competing definitions of masculinity, the NYPD version is that men in power should be respected simply in virtue of their position, even if they are acting or appearing to act unjustly. In other words we should respect the powerful because they are powerful.
To be empathetic is to be able to put yourself in another person’s place, and in its literal meaning, to feel the feelings of another. In the recent public conversations about race and the police, both Obama and de Blasio have invited white Americans to put themselves in the place of a black man stopped by the police for little or no reason and to ask themselves how they would feel in that situation.
In so doing, liamcdg asserts, Obama and de Blasio were not simply trying to explain the feelings of those on the other side of the racial divide, they were also redefining masculinity. We all know that according to traditional stereotypes, the realm of feeling is the realm of women. And of course we also know that real men don’t cry. Yet what is happening to black men is enough to make anyone who feels their feelings want to cry.
The conflicts between de Blasio and the police and Obama and a large segment of the older white male voting public may have as much to do with the challenge to white male privilege as it has to do with any particular event or issue. White male privilege involves a complex interconnection of race and sex. It is about the power that comes or is expected to come to one simply by virtue of being born into a white male body.
In recent weeks I have been asking myself why the police are so upset. After all there is room for improvement in any profession. Over the past few years I have also struggled to understand why some people object so strongly to the idea that women have a right to control their own bodies, to choose birth control or abortion. I am coming to the conclusion that the vehemence of the protest is rooted in the perception that the patriarchal edifice is crumbling.
Forty years ago, inspired by the feminist movement, men began to speak about redefining masculinity. This was easier said than done. It is so easy to accuse men who criticize male power as domination of being “sissies,” “girls,” or “gay.” Even men who might of wanted to discuss the subject were all too often afraid of being labeled.
I say the fact that the NYPD is turning its back on de Blasio is one measure of how far we have come. I suggest that the NYPD recognizes that a different definition of masculinity and male power is being born right before their eyes. And it is this that they cannot bear to see.
We have been taught that feeling and feeling the feelings of others belongs in the feminine realm. What if it doesn’t? What if in the end male power and female power are much the same? And what if they both begin with empathy?
Perhaps we really have “come a long way baby.”
According to Heide Goettner-Abendroth, whose work I am fond of quoting in FAR, matriarchal societies defined the power of males and the power of females similarly.
What if Freud got it wrong? What if males do not have to differentiate themselves from their mothers by becoming “not like” women and girls? What if masculinity and feminity are not polar opposites? What if all any of us have to do is to learn to embody the qualities of those who nurture us?
We are beginning to glimpse a different world. Any thoughts on how to bring the NYPD and other older white males into a new world along with us?
This story is written from the point of view of my childhood self growing up in the LDS church…
This is what I said in church yesterday. I messed up and instead of saying “I’d like to bear my testimony,” I said “I’d like to bear my family.”
The reason I said this is because after you say, “I’d like to bear my testimony, I know this church is true,” you are supposed to say, “I am grateful for my family.” Well, I just stood there saying I would like to bear them. I felt so embarrassed especially when I saw my mom looking at me funny.
Mom always gets serious in church. I try to focus and be serious too. After all, I know Heavenly Father is watching me. But sometimes I giggle and daydream too much. Then I get in trouble because I’m the oldest and I should know better. Continue reading “An LDS Girlhood by Amy Wright Glenn”
And Jephthah made a vow to the Lord, and said, “If you will give the Ammonites into my hand, then whoever comes out of the doors of my house to meet me, when I return victorious, shall be the Lord’s, to be offered up by me as a burnt offering…Then Jephthah came to his home at Mizpah; and there was his daughter coming out to meet him with hand drums and with dancing…he did to her according to the vow he had made…” (Judges 11:30, 34, 39)
Feminism and Religion 