microaggressions – Feminism and Religion

Natalie Weaver edited I live in Cleveland, and I am writing at the end of the World Series. I don’t know how it will conclude, but like most of the people in my city, I’m holding my breath. As I write, I literally just left the cardiac ward of one of the Cleveland Clinic hospitals, where patients’ lives actually seemed to hang in the balance of the game, according to one of the nurses who was monitoring heart rates from a central station in the hallway.

I, who never cared about baseball and avoided Cleveland sports, am more than a little surprised at myself. For, I have grown to care about the outcome of these games. Why so, I ask myself. Why am I sitting with my mom in the hospital, watching a game, when she’s ill, and neither of us has ever cared about sports? I’ve been thinking about this recently, and believe I have landed on the right answer.

You see, when you are from Cleveland, it is not uncommon to have this precise conversation or some permutation thereof:

Self: Hi.
Stranger: Hello there. Nice to meet you.
Self: Where are you from?
Stranger: Denver
Self: Denver is a lovely city. I visited for my friend’s wedding once.
Stranger: Yes. We love it out there. Great weather; friendly people. What about you… where are you from?
Self: Cleveland
Stranger: (chuckling) I’m sorry. Mistake on the Lake. River’s on Fire. Etc.

Clevelanders are made to feel shame about our city, whereas, by contrast, Chicago is heralded for its architecture, food, and skyline, and so one. Now, I have lived in Chicago. It is beautiful and all that, and, more importantly, Chicago is not what I am writing about. What I have come to observe about myself is that I actually love Cleveland for what it has to offer, which primarily includes people. Hard workers, brilliantly talented musicians, artists, actors, educators, physicians, architects, and more.

I have grown to appreciate the people and stories that built the city’s heritage, culture, ethnic churches, diverse neighborhoods, beautified lakefront, museums, international airports, colleges and universities, rivers, parks, gardens, and on and on. There is persistent and nearly inevitable derision that is glibly tossed our way here in the Two-One-Six. I realize, it has worn me down over the years.

And, especially when I travel for academic conferences and chat over drinks at the receptions, I am tired of playing Justin Martyr to the city, in large measure to defend my own merit as a scholar and educator. Continue reading “The Real World Series by Natalie Weaver”

angela As an artist and author, my time is often divided between painting and writing, with my interests in religion, gender/sexuality, and justice being the connection between the two. Painting teaches me something unique about writing, at the same time that writing brings clarity to my painting. For me, the two go hand-in-hand. Such is most certainly the case with my painting of the revolutionary Grimké sisters and in the writing of my most recent book, Microaggressions in Ministry: Confronting the Violence of Everyday Church, co-authored with Cody Sanders. Now that the painting, one of my newest Holy Women Icons with a folk feminist twist, has toured parts the East Coast and Microaggressions in Ministry is officially available for purchase, I’ve had an opportunity to reflect on these seemingly disparate projects and mediums, only to realize how mutually informing they truly are.

The Grimké Sisters: Sarah (1792-1873) and Angelina (1805-1879)

Though these revolutionary sisters have always been famous in feminist-preaching-justice-antiracism-vegetarian circles, their name recognition bolstered with the stirring novel by Sue Monk Kidd, The Invention of Wings. The Grimké sisters were Southern American Quakers, writers, public speakers, and the first American women advocates for both abolition and women’s rights. Born to a wealthy plantation owner with hundreds of slaves, who held that women were strictly subordinate to men, these daring daughters experienced the evils of slavery first-hand. In fact, at age five, Sarah witnessed a slave being whipped and tried to escape South Carolina on a steam ship to a “place where there was no slavery.” In violation of the law, she taught several slaves to read during her adolescence.

Thirteen years her junior, Angelina was more of a daughter than sister to Sarah, as Sarah begged her parents to make her Angelina’s godmother. Together, the sisters left the South, became Quakers, committed themselves to pacifism and vegetarianism, and dedicated their lives to abolitionism. They gave countless public lectures—at first in “parlor meetings” for only women, but expanding to include men—decrying the evils of slavery. Not only did they preach abolition based on their interpretations of scripture, but they also held that black and white people are equal and should be treated as such. This latter belief was considered completely radical, even in abolitionist circles. In giving public lectures, they were attacked for their anti-slavery stance. In fact, they were forced to leave the Quaker church because of their views. But their radical abolitionism was not the only reason for critique; they were also condemned for stepping into the male sphere of public speaking. In the midst of such critique, the sisters were forced to grapple with their views of gender, inadvertently becoming feminists and women’s rights activists, as well. After much thought, prayer, and study, Sarah and Angelina also determined that women’s equality was rooted in scripture.

Continue reading “Microaggressions and the Grimké Sisters: Between Painting and Writing by Angela Yarber”