Showing posts with label Gettin' all up in my cerebellum. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gettin' all up in my cerebellum. Show all posts

Thursday, January 24, 2013

Of Feminism and Mormonism

“Woman is God’s supreme creation. Only after the earth had been formed, after the day had been separated from the night, after the waters had been divided from the land, after vegetation and animal life had been created, and after man had been placed on the earth, was woman created; and only then was the work pronounced complete and good.”
                                                                              ~ President Gordon B. Hinckley

My internet friend posted about this recently, and I'm pilfering her idea. Because all her ideas tend to be quite brilliant. Frankly, you should just skip my ramblings and link over to her blog because her post is about 1,000 times better.

A great brouhaha was recently raised over this issue. Personally, I'm not concerned with what people wear to the worship meetings at my church. I'm concerned that they come. I would hope they come with an eye single to respect. Respect for what is sacred to themselves and God and me or respect for those who worship in that space. As far as I know, this doesn't equate a uniform. As far as I know, dress pants on women haven't been an offensive form of dress for several decades. In truth, I really don't think it matters what you wear to church if your heart and spirit are there to learn and grow to be a better version of yourself. I didn't wear pants on that particular Sunday (skirts, when selected correctly, are far more comfortable in my eyes). I wouldn't think much of any woman who did opt to wear pants that day or any other. Just as I wouldn't really care if a kilt or lavalava was worn by a man.

The issue this was tackling, however, wasn't so much about the subcultural expectations about gender-appropriate apparel as it was about the solidarity of Mormon feminists.  
 
I am a Mormon. I am also a feminist. These two parts of who I am have never gone to battle against one another. I feel passionate about each. I am proud to be in a sisterhood with so many women who came before me: women who fought and sacrificed for my right to cast a vote, women who believed in their right to work for equal pay and similar promotions as the men in their field. Women who said: I can do that job or that task and the fact that I have a vagina has nothing to do with it! I am grateful that the conversation about women in combat has recently been addressed. I take heart that the majority of Americans have responded well to this equalizing plan. I also know the gospel doctrines as I understand them are true. For me, these are as true and real as the keyboard beneath my fingers. 

Here is where I am vehemently feminist: I think the treatment of the women within a community or country directly correlates with the quality of life and well-being for the people of that community or country. (For instance, with 1 in 5 children living below the poverty line in the United States, I think we can begin to see that the treatment of women in the U.S. is sub-par.) I believe we have an international crisis with the objectification of women. This phenomenon destroys not only individuals, but relationships, families, communities and the ripple effect continues. It is also one of the most socially acceptable forms of exploitation. I am incensed that if you are a woman you are 29% more likely to live in poverty. You are 6 times more likely to be a victim of sexual assault. You will earn only 82% of what a man does. You have a 1 in 4 chance of being sexually harrassed at the work place. Your marital status is always noted (is it Miss or Mrs.?) and if you go by Ms. that must define you even further. And don't get me started on the international treatment of women. And don't tell me I should be grateful it isn't "like that over here" or that "at least [I'm] white". I am a woman, therefore I am in this with every other woman. 

But, lest you think I hate or blame men for this, think again. I am equally incensed that men (especially young minorities) are more likely to be incarcerated, more likely to be the victims of a violent crime, and, while not objectified to the extent women are objectified, are held to standards and stereotypings that are unhealthy, false and just as damaging to their mental/emotional/physical well-being.

I am a feminist. I am not a man-hater. I am a feminist. I am not a militant or extreme activist. I am a feminist. I am not going to stand by and let you make congressional decisions about my reproductive system.  I am a feminist. I am not in the business of saying what is or isn't right for the individual lives and situations of other women. I am a feminist. I believe women are of the utmost value. I am a feminist. I think men are also equally of value and worth. I am a feminist. I fight for maintaining a world in which individuals are valued, respected, and necessary no matter their gender, sex, orientation, creed, color, race, hairstyle, toe quantity, etc.

Now, getting back to my pants or the lack thereof (I just really wanted to write that, indulge me): I support women no matter how they want to practice feminism, or if they don't want to claim the title at all. I chose not to wear pants to church that Sunday because, for me, it would have ultimately been  more of a fight against a subcultural set of strange, tacit wardobe norms that I wanted to challenge. I choose to practice my feminism in different ways. 

And, finally, while some Mormon feminists question it, I, personally, don't believe women need the Priesthood. Personally, I don't see a need to participate in certain decisions made in my church. When used properly and as intended, women are blessed by this faculty held by men. What I said might make some angry or frustrated, it may even make them question my "Feminist" title, it may seem confusing that I would support women's rights so fully, but not that one. Here's the deal: this is my very hashed-over opinion. I feel that I have every right to the blessings of the Priesthood as men. I feel I get those blessings equally. Do I think that, at times, the premise of this power is used improperly? Absolutely. But that is the fault of individuals and an imperfect society, not doctrine, structure or the organization of the Priesthood itself. For me, the perspective my Father in Heaven has of me and my church has of me, the feeling I've experienced in my most spiritual experiencies (whether public or private), can be found embodied in the quote at the top of this blog post. Ultimately, I'm grateful for the blessings of a Priesthood that touches my life just as much as any man's.

Thank you for indulging my need to put this down in writing. It is mostly for the daughters and sons I hope to have one day. I think I'll go take off my bra now. (Because I'm totally pro bra-removal at the end of a long day. I don't thinkt his adds to my feminist ways. I do think it adds to the quality of my evening.)

Thursday, June 23, 2011

30 things I learned by 30.


1. The book is always better.

2. Chips and salsa might
feel like a food group, but in all actuality are not. Same goes for Diet Coke.

3. Freckles, curves and naturally curly hair make for a unique kind of beauty. I prefer unique beauty.

4. Loving your job is only possible when you make sure to love your life as well.

5. No one is all good. No one is all bad.

6. Good friends are precious and rare and happen when you know how to be one in return.

7. My parents are wiser than I ever gave them credit for.

8. True charity isn't merely dropping something off at good will or the occasional service project. True charity is loving unconditionally even when it is hard to do so.

9. A good teacher ends up being more of a student.

10. Laziness is usually just a mix up in one's priorities.

11. Life hurts. A lot. And then something miraculous happens to remind you how very good it all is.

12. Every baby is pure and perfect. A miracle. Everyone was once a baby.

13. Harboring feelings of offense or anger or vengeance hurts me more than anybody else.

14. I'm terrified of losing and grieving someone, anyone who is close to me--someone who fills my life with joy. I know I'm blessed that I haven't had to yet.

15. Time is very easily wasted if one isn't mindful.

16. Some so-called "time-wasters" are also those moments you grow closest to people, including yourself.

17. Some of life's most spiritual moments happen in quiet, outdoor places.

18. The first time holding hands carries so much more weight than anything that falls after.

19. Education happens everywhere if you pay attention.

20. It is important to know how to decipher between that which is arbitrary and that which is a true measure of value.

21. Some of life's best experiences happen outside of one's comfort zone.

22. Failure isn't really failure if you gave all of yourself over to the attempting.

23. Prayer is real. Someone
is listening if you are sincere about it.

24. Mediocrity in one's efforts leaves one unsatisfied and empty.

25. God, Life, The Universe, call it what you may--s/he/it knows what we need more than we do.

26. Painted toenails and mascara will always make me feel feminine and pretty--even when I'm 90.

27. I am loved because I see myself as someone worth loving.

28. Curiosity and imagination are the true ingredients for intelligence.

29. I'd rather be considered a smart woman than a hot woman.

30. There are times for acting like a grown up and times for acting childlike. It is important that I coordinate my behavior with the appropriate occasion.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Totally Geek to Totally Chic: Celebrating Brainiacs

I think we've all established that I have a thing for Javier Bardem.
And who wouldn't, really?
Have you seen Eat, Pray, Love?

This is how I like to think it ends, just in case you haven't gone to the theatre yet:
You can thank me later for summing it all up so nicely for you--
thus saving you the $8.50 you would have spent at the multiplex.
Dear Javier, you can be my champion any time.



But enough about Javier and me.
Did I ever tell you about my affinity for geekish-ness?
About how I think the sexiest part on a man is his brain?
How intelligence gets me a bit hot and bothered?
Because it does.
Very much so.


Take, for instance, this guy:
Host of NPR's (and now Showtime's) This American Life.
Radio personality, master story teller.
Dear Mr. Glass, I have a crush on you and always will.
I'm hoping to run into you (or your brain-alike) at the bookstore.

And I can't deny it...
Dr. Drew Pinsky is a stone cold silver fox.
No one can change my opinion on this.
See:
AND he offers psychological savvy and know-how to boot.


And what about the witty banter of the one and only Mo Rocca?
I just think he'd be a most excellent dinner date.
(And he wears dark rimmed glasses.
Some folks are odd about the fellas in spectacles--
not me.)
As long as I get to keep my beverages
from exploding through my nostrils
whilst laughing uncontrollably--
which sometimes happens when Mo's on TV.


If Mo's busy, I could always settle for him:
That pensive/furrowed brow thing lets me know dear Jon is thinking. A lot.
And if we haven't already established this
Intelligence = Attraction


Lest you think Jewish men are the only ones who stand a chance--
and because we really shouldn't forget the brilliance of some of my favorite writers.
I have to give a few nods to some of my favorite minds.

You see, sometimes I exit the world of a novel or a poem I'm reading
and the whole thing is just dripping from me.
I can't help it,
I've fallen in love with whomever it is that wrote the thing.
Left smitten with their words, their ideas,
the images they've introduced to my mind,
the fluid music of their prose.

Seamus Heaney: I bow in obeisance to you.
You brilliant, brilliant man.
(By the way, if you still looked like this photo
and used that strong Irish accent of yours
it would all be over for me.)

And while I don't usually go for the wild-haired,
"Barbaric Yawp"
Walt Whitman look,
Cold Mountain and The English Patient
have me considering these two authors:

Charles Frazier


and Michael Ondaatje

Because the boys have talent and soul and
let their perfect words fall on the page like a lovely summer rain.
And because good haircuts are easy to come by.
Intelligence, on the other hand, is rare.
And oh-so-much more satisfying.

Saturday, February 27, 2010

Imagine That

"Nothing happens unless first we dream."
~ Carl Sandburg


***

Oprah and I have a love/hate relationship, one-sided though it may be. But Friday, because it was my day off, I stopped channel surfing and watched her.

There she was, Oprah Winfrey, airing out her closet for the world to see--Oprah "my-dog-gets-acupuncture" Winfrey admitting that she went through a phase in which she bought fanciful, delicate little pocketbooks with the dream of being one of the ladies who lunch, pocketbook in her overly expressive hand. Except in her internationally televised closet clean out, she confessed that she doesn't have time to lunch. The dream was just that. A romantic notion. In the context of reality, it grew rather ridiculous.

There I sat on my couch, shocked. Thinking to myself: Oprah does this too? I mean, she's Oprah! Surely, if you were Oprah Winfrey, there would be no need for fantasy. Because you're Oprah. You're living the fantasy.

But Oprah, adult that she may be, dreams of lunching with ornate, miniature handbags.

***

My niece, "Mugs", used to lie down on her back on her bed or the couch or the living room floor, and say, "Don't bother me, I'm having imaginings." Her face would beam, eyes closed, as her mind drifted into the fantasies of her heart. She has never looked so beautiful or spirited or content as in her quiet, imagined moments.

***

If I could be one person in all of cinema, I'd be Meg Ryan's character, Kathleen Kelly, from You've Got Mail. She owns a bookstore in New York. She has gumption or moxie or whatever you want to call it, yet she's quirky and kind. And she dresses with a classic finesse. I often channel her while shopping for clothing. I think she is responsible for all my cardigans.

If I could be one person in all of literature, I'd be Elizabeth Bennett from Pride & Prejudice. Not because she gets Mr. Darcy (frankly, he's a bit of an ass), but because she has just the right thing to say at just the right moment. She's a wit whereas I wake up at 2 in the morning with the perfect, saucy retort I wish would've come to me 12 hours ago when my cheeks flushed and my brain went quiet.

***



When I was little, my day was spent imagining. More sentences began with "Pretend that..." than I know how to count. I lived for make-believe. Dress up and tea parties and princesses and baby dolls. These are the magical times of my childhood, living that intangible pink something that isn't.

And then I grew up. And life got busy. And make-believe was for children. Magic was for children. Lying under the tree in the backyard, dreaming of my life stretched wide before me, it was all a thing of the past.

But is it really? Does it have to be?

I think Oprah and her pocketbooks, Mugs and her imaginings, me and my fictitious characters prove that our need for imagining never really goes away. We try to deny it or make the fantasies our reality as adults. As children perhaps the dream of it all is so intense that it is enough to get us by for a time.

But in the end, there's something beautiful about imagination. There is power in all that the human mind can create for us. There's a quote often attributed to Einstein about imagination being more valuable than knowledge--that imagination has the quality of being limitless, while knowledge has an ending point. I think imagination is the ultimate expression of intelligence. Anything of worth started first in the mind. I also believe that even if nothing comes of it, even if the wild fancies of the mind end where they began, there is value in allowing ourselves to imagine.



* image found here.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Sucking, Marrow and Other Musings

Henry David Thoreau, in his near-perfect (and sometimes dull and oftimes perceptive and idealistic and occasionally silly) Walden said:

I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.

I read these words from Walden at 22--an age fraught with idealistic dreams and fantastical notions. (OK, honesty forces me to admit that, like most English majors, I didn't exactly read all of Walden. Now that I've revealed myself for the fraud that I am, please do read on.) At that time in my life I licked every bit of it up. Transcendentalists were my collegiate mind's food. I wanted to suck marrow from life! I wanted to live deliberately! I recall that my primary goal for the entirety of my future was to, "live life authentically."

A college degree, countless hours of teaching, neverending student loan (and other) payments later and I sometimes ask myself this: am I living deliberately any more? Are those aspects of life which matter most to me actually a part of my daily life? And, teacher Rookie, being the assessment master that she is, currently doles out a big fat F for herself.

I am sucking it up. Big time. And I have no idea how to stop (or start) this life I'm living.

In my defense (excuse), every grown up person knows that reality and idealism do not make for good bed fellows. And while it may be fallacious in nature, it seems that either/or really is the only option here. So here I am, left wondering who do I kill off? The liberated idealist? The realistic responsible one? Slowly but surely, a bowl of Cheerios in the morning and a credit score over 750 win out. Is this what happens to everyone? Is this just the way it is-- a natural (albeit bumpy) transition into adulthood? Is it true that each day a little piece of idealism dies in the entirety of the adult human population? Because man does that just *suck!

*Dear reader, please forgive my propensity toward the word "suck" in this particular post.

And while I loved Thoreau in college, his words from a supposed simpler time nearly two centuries ago speak to me more now than they did then. After all, Henry David was in his 30's when he wrote Walden--not mere coincidence. Perhaps the late 20's-early 30's are a time for questioning ourselves, our motives, our lives. Perhaps it is not all bad to let the idealist get a dose of reality and wither into oblivion (or continue on, turning you into a perpetual bachelor (ermm...momma's boy) with a crush on your teacher's wife and nothing to your name but a stupid flute).

Perhaps I need to revisit my life's goals, redefine what an authentic life looks like.

So I'll begin again, John Lennon, in one of many perceptive musical masterpieces, is quoted as saying:

Life is what happens to you when you're making other plans.

And there's nothing inauthentic about that.

This image has very little to do with much of anything, other than it made me laugh and described how I feel most of the time whilst figuring out my life.