Exponent II's Blog, page 179

Guest Post: The Unspoken Messages

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By Tina

“We need to talk about the unspoken messages in sacrament meeting today,” I announced to my daughters as we walked in the house after church.

“You are both at an age where the differences for girls and boys in opportunities for service and leadership in the church will become more apparent. I want you to know that I firmly believe that God—and when I say God I mean Heavenly Father and Heavenly Mother—and Jesus did not intend for the division, inequality, and lack that now exists between women and men in the church and in the world.” I breathed and continued on. “The scriptures say that all are alike into God and that we are all one in Christ Jesus. You are important and valuable. You are here on earth to grow and fully become you. You are as valuable as anyone else simply because you exist.”

Sacrament meeting talks that day had been painful. Two boys spoke about service. One spoke about how he had been ordained a teacher before church; the other spoke about how he would be ordained a teacher after church. As a mother of daughters, the pain of watching my daughters’ male peers receive a place in the church hierarchy while they do not have a place is surprisingly and intensely gut wrenching. Admittedly, this agony caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting this feeling and it’s difficult to put the experience into words. I gave birth to and am raising two precious human beings that I love with all my soul. How do I explain the feeling and experience of watching these two people not have the same opportunities available to them only because they are female and not male? How is this right? I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s not right.

In his talk, one of the boys spoke of a great-grandfather who earned a Ph.D. and, upon graduation, gave up a lucrative career to work for the church establishing seminaries and institutes. He mentioned his great-grandmother three or four times. Each time it was to say that she supported his great-grandfather in whatever activity he pursued. Something about this struck me as off. I’m not sure why. I wanted to scream that my daughters were born to do more than sacrifice themselves and their dreams to support a man. I spoke to my daughters about partnership, about figuring out what they want to do in life, and finding a partner who they can work together with to support each other.

It was a short yet important conversation. At one point in response to my statement that females have fewer leadership opportunities in the church than males, my oldest daughter said, “But Mom, I have Girl Scouts. Do you know what G.I.R.L. stands for? Go-getter, Innovator, Risk Taker, Leader.” I smiled. My girls are going to be ok. Between me, my husband, Girl Scouts, their therapist, and the Holy Ghost, we can give them the tools to navigate this patriarchal mess of a church structure with their sense of worth and sense of self intact.

I wish the bishop had stood up and addressed the unspoken messages given in church that day. Along with celebrating those boys advancing in priesthood ordination, it would have been nice for the ward to mourn with the girls who do not have those opportunities open to them. It would have been nice if the bishop had clarified the boy’s talk about his great-grandparents to make sure ward members understood that service did not equal a woman sacrificing herself. Until then, I’ll counter these unspoken messages with spoken ones.

 

Tina is a mother, teacher, and woman who lives near mountains yet loves the ocean. She feels a deep gratitude to the women and men who showed her the way to Jesus.

Rose Friedman Made Me a Feminist

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Rose Friedman made me a feminist.

As a 20-year-old undergraduate student, I attended an academic talk that was also attended by the famous economist and her much more famous collaborator and husband, Nobel Prize winner Milton Friedman. The Friedmans were in their eighties and more than a decade past the years when their PBS series “Free to Choose” popularized libertarian economics and made them Reagan-era heroes.

Milton and Rose Friedman and a roomful of academics, graduate students, and myself were there to hear a speech by conservative Harvard political scientist Harvey Mansfield. At that time, Mansfield was writing and speaking widely on the early 20th century ideal of “manliness” and its political significance. Among other things, he lamented what he perceived as a lack of “manliness” in contemporary politics.

I did not find this particularly troubling; after all, as a Mormon female, I had been taught all my life to emulate the qualities of male role models in my spiritual life, and the political world of my home state of Utah was heavily male-dominated. My well-connected, staunch Republican grandfather stoked my interest in politics and never let me feel that my gender was a liability. In fact, I quickly learned that I could use my status as a pretty young woman to influence men with power and obtain certain advantages, like an invitation to an exclusive event like the one I was attending.

At the end of Mansfield’s talk, he opened the floor for questions. I raised my hand and innocently asked him the question that had been on my mind all evening: whether I, as a female, should strive to be more politically “manly” or if there was a corresponding “womanliness” that I should aspire to. I must have inadvertently touched a nerve, because the venom that spewed forth in response to my question absolutely shocked me. I shrank into my chair under the onslaught of his words and the disapproving looks of those around me, aghast that I had asked the great professor Harvey Mansfield a question that he perceived as a challenge.

Then, on the front row, tiny Rose Friedman stood up. All four-and-a-half feet of her, looming like a giant in my memory. Dr. Friedman shook her finger at the speaker and uttered her only public words that day. “Harvey, this young woman has asked you an excellent question, and you haven’t answered it!”

In that moment, I learned several important things. I learned that my gender was, in fact, a liability. I learned that some great men are horrid human beings. But most importantly, I learned how powerful and transformative it can be when women stand up for other women.

I left that day with the sure knowledge that contemporary politics did not need more “manliness.” It needed more Rose Friedmans.

Looking back from the perspective of years, I don’t know if Rose Friedman would be pleased or appalled that her brief influence helped turn a naive Utah Mormon girl into a committed intersectional feminist Mormon woman. I don’t know how she felt as a scholar living in the perpetual shadow of her husband, or whether her conservative views on economics influenced her views on social issues. I do know that at a key moment in my life she made me feel like my voice was important and worth hearing, and for that I honor her.

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Who are the Rose Friedmans in your life? What kinds of experiences have influenced your sense of justice, your view of the world, and your political participation? How have your beliefs and priorities changed over time? How do you decide when and how to stand and make your voice heard amidst a cacophony of contrary opinions?

For our Summer 2020 issue, Exponent II Magazine is returning to its roots, and we are asking you to share your stories. The original 19th century Woman’s Exponent is full of content by and about Mormon women who were active in the political debates of the day, advocating for change, and contributing to public discourse in a myriad of ways. We would like to know how YOU are following in the footsteps of our spiritual foremothers today by engaging in the public sphere and shaping your community. We particularly welcome contributions from women with historically-marginalized identities or who come from outside the United States. First-time writers are also encouraged. Whatever your background, affiliation, and life experiences, we think your voice is important and worth hearing.

Submissions should be in Word or Google Doc form and between 700-2400 words. Send submissions to exponentiieditor AT gmail DOT com by April 1, 2020. Submissions should reflect the mission of Exponent II.

 

E.Gray lives in an old New England farmhouse with her husband, two kids, and a dog. She teaches European History to college students and Primary to seven-year-olds, dabbles in small-town politics, and serves as co-Managing Editor of Exponent II Magazine.

Starting My Version of a F*** Off Fund

[image error]You may have heard about Paulette Perhach’s viral piece called The Story of a F*** Off fund. I read it a few years ago and thought, absolutely, yes — it’s such a good idea for women to have money put aside that will allow them to get out of bad situations. I could think of a few of my friends who were financially trapped in bad relationships and how having such a fund could allow them to get out and start again.

But I didn’t actually consider starting one for myself at the time. I was in a happy marriage with a great partner. We’d never considered divorce, ever. We might vote differently, think about the church differently, and have different approaches to raising kids at times, but we were devoted to each other, kind to each other and still liked each other, even across our many lines of difference. We were 15 years and 3 kids into the marriage, and that marriage was totally solid. You’d have to pry my husband away from my cold dead hands — I was never going to let the marriage go.

Fast forward four years and the marriage is still good. He’s continues to be a terrific partner. But as I enter a phase in which child care responsibilities are becoming less onerous and I’m trying to figure out how to develop my career (such as it is), which always took backseat to his, I’m struck by the relative vulnerability of my financial position. I make a fifth of what my professor husband makes. I got my PhD a couple years ago and I love my job, but it’s a part-time contract job with no stability. It could end at any time, and it’s certainly not a career with development potential.

I start to think, what if this marriage doesn’t work out in the long run? What if we change and we realize we can’t be happy in this relationship? How am I going to survive? I’d lose the house, since the house is connected to my husband and his job at the university.  I know alimony will cover me for a few years, but my thirties are behind me and I’ve lost those years where most people really establish themselves in their careers. I’m filled with mixed feelings about my past choices. On the one hand, having the freedom to be the primary care giver to my kids while I was slowly working on my PhD was such a privilege. How many other people would have loved that opportunity? But on the other hand, I’ve chosen a field in the humanities where there just aren’t many career possibilities, particularly if I can’t move around to where a tenure-track job might be. I find myself with few prospects for an actual career. I find myself wondering how I could have gotten myself into this position of utter financial dependence. I fear that I am, as Gloria Steinem would say, one man away from welfare.

A couple weeks ago (on Valentines Day, actually) I took a deep breath and invited my husband out to lunch. It was time for a conversation about my vulnerability, in the event our marriage breaks up. I told him I wanted to start a bank account, in my name only, to which we would direct a certain amount of money every month. I wouldn’t actually call this a f*** off fund — I can’t ever even imagine a situation in which I’d want to say f*** off to him, even if we were deciding to go our separate ways. I think of it more like a marriages-break-down fund, and its purpose is to give me, the more vulnerable person in the marriage, some protection in case things go off the rails.

My husband was surprised by the request, but not shocked. I had mentioned a few months before feeling anxious about my future if we broke up. He asked a few clarifying questions about how much I was thinking about every month and about if he was doing anything to make me feel insecure in the marriage. And after a few minutes of discussion, he said he understood where  I was coming from and that he was supportive of me starting this bank account. He’s a good man, and luckily we’re in the privileged position of having a certain amount of expendable income every month.

This bank account won’t resolve all my worries and it won’t take away my ambivalence and sadness about not prioritizing career from the get-go. But it’s one strand of a safety net to safeguard my future, as I continue to sift through possibilities to build a career that can truly sustain me.

Guest Post: Differentiation

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By DesertProse

I find myself at a spiritual crossroads. I am forever changed and have let many of the former markers of my faithfulness fall away, but I feel a strong foundation of faith itself still within me and don’t yet know what I want the contours of my practice to be—except that it must be mine.

My heart is loyal to my heritage and spiritual home, while in the very moment, I feel sure I can no longer abide it! I didn’t mean to stop attending altogether, but now that it’s been several months, part of me fears that returning will be like opening the oven door too soon, and my rising souffle will deflate. I have changed, but I don’t know that I’m done changing.

I cheerfully greet my Relief Society sisters at the elementary school, in the grocery store and make small talk at my children’s friend’s birthday parties, but my heart is pulled like taffy between paradoxical poles of feeling known and foreign, cherished and feared, mirrored and unrecognizable to myself.

I think, maybe if I know what I’m becoming then I can lean into it with confidence and I won’t feel so vulnerable.

But last night, listening to the words of Gina Colvin in the quiet hours after tucking my three boys into bed, my perspective shifted. I listened to Gina say, “Mormon communities are often very enmeshed social systems in which we affirm each other’s identities by becoming as much like each other as possible” (A Thoughtful Faith, episode 324. Reconstruction, Deconstruction and Spiritual Formation). The image of a honeycomb surfaced in my mind.

The beehive has always been an apt metaphor for the Mormon community. A model of industry, the worker bees ceaselessly working out their collective salvation through labor and waggle-dance signaling. But we’re also like the honeycomb itself—rigidly formed, our form bound in place by our neighbor’s shape.

There is a great beauty in structure—the patterns, the repetition, the symmetry and perfect form are what makes the honeycomb’s shape so stunning. However, symmetry is not the only form of beauty. Asymmetrical, organic and dynamic, beauty can be equally stunning in freeform marble veins, stretching tendrils of flowered vines, in swirls of the Milky Way against a velvety dark sky. This boundless beauty must coexist alongside the honeycomb. To force it within the honeycomb’s gorgeous hex-bound form would rupture one or crush the other.

“When I differentiated, I became unrecognizable to my people,” Gina explained me to myself. I already know my new, freeform self is authentic and good. I may not have finished becoming what I’m becoming, but that is by design and part of the beauty of my new form.

Maybe now, when I visit with my dear Mormon sisters in the school yard, when I receive the heartful text inviting me to the next “favorite things exchange” for Enrichment (or whatever that meeting is called at the moment), I can see my discomfort for what it is—a reflection of her discomfort, a recognition that my shape and my waggle have changed and I’m okay with that. I can still appreciate the taste of honey and love the freedom of not living in the beehive.

 

DesertProse lives in the Mojave Desert where she raises three boys, writes for a living and occasionally for fun.

Nurturing grace and fighting perfectionism in Mormon feminism, part 2a: Grace.

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This is the second of a four-part series on grace, anger, social media, and Mormon feminism.

February 2020

By LMA

I wrote this past month on the blog about my experiences learning about intersectional and Mormon feminism. I want to talk now about the different ways we relate to one another, particularly in social media spaces. The majority of social media interaction I have is on Twitter, but much of this applies in other spaces as well.

I want to start out by saying I am not referring to excusing intentionally bad behavior or unkindness or willful harm of others. We are never allowed to behave in those ways. It is never okay to act that way. And when we do, there are often serious consequences. People will rightly call out what we’ve said or done. We might lose opportunities or relationships or potential relationships. Healing and healthy dialogue stops. This type of behavior is ungodly.

I am also not referring to the tendency to lean into our blind spots or the places that make us feel overly comfortable and lead us to ignore our privilege. Even if it feels very uncomfortable, it is necessary and holy for us to engage with and understand the various forms of privilege we have experienced.

I see our relationship between one another as Mormon feminists and women+ as being dialectic, meaning it contains opposite components. On the one hand, I strongly feel that we need to acknowledge all of our humanity and show kindness and grace and love toward one another in our interactions as Mormon feminists. Each person deserves compassion as they make a good faith effort to learn and express themselves and ask questions. On the other hand – and equally important – is learning to negotiate our own and others’ anger and harness it toward the oppression we seek to dismantle. This part of Mormon feminism is especially gritty and messy and uncomfortable at times.

I have seen situations on Twitter where people have been attacked or criticized for expressing an experience or idea related to intersectional feminism generally or Mormon feminism specifically in an inelegant way. I have also seen situations where people have been criticized for not using a specific intersectional feminist term correctly, or for expressing an opinion that is different than the majority of those in our community, or within the majority of those who often speak in social media spaces. These types of interactions create an environment that is not conductive to safety, sharing, and our growth/learning as feminists/activists.

Because our identities and experiences as Mormon feminists and activists are diverse and deserving of compassion and understanding, I also believe there needs to be a place for grace and humanity in Mormon feminism.

What I mean is that if we are genuinely making a good faith effort and doing the best we can, expecting perfection in each other in our feminism or activism and punishing or hurting one another when we naturally don’t do things just right is just another form of perfectionism and oppression we are perpetuating toward one another.

Though I consider myself well educated and able to discuss most intersectional feminist issues, in my own personal social media interactions, I am often nervous to express a certain opinion because I feel anxiety and fear about how my ideas will be responded to. This often keeps me from expressing my ideas personally in social media spaces. As I discussed last month in my blog post, I was not raised understanding feminism or social justice, and it can be new and vulnerable using and expressing these ideas in front of others.

As Mormon women, we are all operating under the oppressive power structure of patriarchy in some form. We are often not taught about how to manage conflict and the strong emotional responses (e.g., defensiveness, anxiety, anger, fear) we might have during these dialogues, and especially if others directly address or question something we have said or done. We are taught to fear and avoid our own and others’ anger at all costs. Just as intersectional feminism helps us understand the complex intersections in others’ experiences and identities, it should also help us understand the complex intersections and history in our history and identities as people who talk about and engage with intersectional feminism, Mormon feminism, or activism in general.

For example, I am a White, highly educated Mormon woman with a significant trauma history. Some of this trauma is with women. Because of my trauma experiences, if I express myself and make a mistake, it is exceptionally distressing to be told I’m wrong or said something bad or hurt someone with what I’ve said. I do not want a free pass to act unkindly, ever. But these experiences sometimes complicate my ability to express myself. Because of these experiences, I am very aware of how difficult it can be to assert yourself even in primarily female spaces. It can be terrifying.

Sometimes I also wonder what our dialogue and interactions
about intersectional feminism and/or Mormon feminism would be like if we were
in the same room vs. on social media. All of us experience different forms of
oppression and I think if we could attend to vital in-person cues (e.g., facial
expression, body language, tone of voice) this would matter. I think it would be
easier in some respects because we can clarify and make ourselves understood a
bit more easily, and others are able to show compassion and kindness and
validation in more concrete, direct ways. I understand this is often not
possible, but I wonder what might happen to our interactions on social media if
we were to consider one another’s humanity in the ways we choose to respond to
one another when discussing important issues related to intersectional
feminism, Mormon feminism, and activism.

In her powerful essay, “Uses of Anger: Women Responding to Racism,” Audre Lorde writes about how white women and women of color negotiate difference and their feelings of anger. This discussion has important applicability to the ways we manage anger as women+:

“The
strength of women lies in recognizing differences between us as creative, and
in standing up to those distortions which we inherited without blame, but which
are now ours to alter. The angers of women can transform difference through
insight into power. For anger between peers births change, not destruction, and
the discomfort and sense of loss it often causes is not fatal, but a sign of
growth.”

All of us deserve safety and support in “standing up to
those distortions which we inherited without blame, but which are now ours to
alter” (Lorde, 2017, p. 31-32). I hope there is a Mormon feminism where all of
us are continually safe and supported to grow, evolve, and express our ideas –
in good faith, imperfectly, with grace directed toward others and ourselves. I
am so grateful to the women+ I know who make our spaces this way.

Some questions to consider:

What role do you believe anger plays in Mormon feminism for
us individually and collectively?

What role does anger play in social media interactions? How does it impede supportive interactions between people?

What types of messages would help yourself and others feel
comfortable sharing their ideas in MoFem spaces?

Winners of the 2019 Art Scholarship: Marlena Wilding

Last year, Exponent started an annual art scholarship for Mormon women of color. The goal of the scholarship continues to be to amplify the voices of LDS women artists of color by lending needed support for them to be able to continue to develop their art.

Over the next few weeks, we will be sharing the work and words of some of the recipients of that scholarship. These extraordinary women have the ability to seismically change the artistic language of the Church: imagine Come Follow Me manuals, Church members’ homes or Church building hallways full of their work. We’re grateful that they shared it with this community and look forward to announcing this year’s scholarship very soon. If you’d like to contribute to the fund for this year’s scholarship, please contact exponentiieditor AT gmail DOT com.

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Marlena Wilding: Marlena Wilding is the creative mom artist behind La Mere Clothing. Marlena is from Washington State, and currently lives in Utah. She received her B.A in Visual Arts and art education license from Brigham Young University in 2014. Marlena is a former Art Educator for troubled youth and a former Special Ed Case Manager before she gave birth to her beautiful baby boy. And currently the driving force behind La Mere. Marlena struggled with PPD and nursing shortly after she had her baby boy, and wanted to find a solution to help make mom-hood and breastfeeding easier, thus La Mere was created. Marlena dreams of doing a series on the Creation, Adam and Eve, and Christ.

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Beloved Daughters

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So many changes these days at church!  How is it going where you are? After a long gig teaching gospel doctrine, and a 6 month hiatus, I’ve been asked to serve in the young women’s group, or is it an auxillary, or what is it now? By the way, the traditional names of “beehive”, “miamaid”, and “laurel” are now history.  In our ward those seem to have been replaced with “young young women” and “old young women”? Pretty sure that “deacon”, “teacher”, and “priest” are alive and well.  

It has been 20 years since I last served in the young women’s … organization.  My personal relationship with the gospel has changed a lot in the last 20 years.  I want to be a positive person in these young women’s lives. I remember my own young women leaders with fondness, as people that I felt really cared about me.  While going through difficult family issues as a teen, the encouragement and validation that my leaders gave me were very significant to me.

As so many Exponent readers and writers have been young women much more recently than myself, or have young women in their families right now, I really would appreciate some advice.

What do you see as most important to young women right now?  I want to be authentic about my own views, which have become much more nuanced as I have aged. I am much less orthodox in my beliefs.  I find great value in the gospel as I understand it, but the Church, well, I have issues with it. I am especially sensitive to the systemic, pervasive patriarchy, which is apparent everywhere in our structure and language. Although the YW theme now says “daughters of heavenly parents…”, which I applaud, that doesn’t quite address all of my concerns.

How can I best help the girls that I now have stewardship for, with honesty and integrity and love?

Ideas, please?

Guest Post: BYU, LGB Policies, and the Death of Stuart Matis

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Stuart Matis

by Rebecca Simpson Craft

My feelings are bittersweet this morning. I’m feeling proud of my alma mater, Brigham Young University, over the past week. I’ve been waiting for the dust to settle a bit to write.

And at the same time, I’m remembering. We have a sad, even tragic, past with regard to lesbian, gay and bisexual people, and still a way to go in our faith tradition.

My husband was mission companions with Stuart Matis in Rome, Italy in 1986 and 1987. Brian lived in an apartment with Stuart twice, and he loved him as a dear friend. Last night we were reminiscing about the Christmas and New Year’s Brian spent in Italy, with Stuart, in the seaside town of Pescara. Some sweet Italians, not members of our faith, had these American missionaries over for Christmas dinner, and gifted them with new colorful underwear for New Year’s! Picture the young Brian and Stuart with these colorful Speedos on their heads, all silliness and joy. This is the kind of stuff young missionaries, so far from home, never forget.

I didn’t know Stuart personally, but he’s someone dear to my husband. We lost him to suicide in 2000, a few days after he had written this heartfelt article, published in the BYU Daily Universe.  He shot himself on the steps of an LDS church building. This was years after we’d all graduated and moved away, but this was all going on at the same time our church was involved in Prop 22 (the precursor to Prop 8) in California. These intersections in life sometimes blindside us, and break us open. We have never been the same. Unfortunately, there are far too many stories like this.

Change always happens in small steps, as hearts soften over time, and we understand more about the experiences of those who may be different. To quote Maya Angelou, “Do the best you can, until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.” May we keep doing better for all of God’s children. This is such a positive and healthy step forward, bringing the BYU Honor Code into alignment with new and positive changes for LGB people in the LDS church handbook. Our gay young people can now date much like their straight counterparts. Hopeful things for those who would like to stay within their faith.

For those of you who would like to know the history, below are links which relate to Stuart’s life and the sad history of LGBTQ issues at BYU generally, along with some of the very positive changes from the past week. I hope members of my faith tradition will be willing to be familiar with these new changes. If you haven’t watched the YouTube video with a BYU professor teaching his class, I hope you will take the time to listen. We all have LGBTQ youth and families in our congregations. They need our love and support. Jesus always reached out to those who were different.

While I’m talking about Stuart today, and our gay members… Transgender friends, I see you and love you.

a piece remembering Stuart Matis by his former bishop.
a CNN article about the changes to the Honor Code
an opinion article about positive changes at BYU from the man who was BYU’s Cosmo the Cougar
A BYU professor explains to his class the changes in the Honor Code policy regarding LGB dating at BYU, and cautions students that they need to be respectful towards LGBTQ people on campus and off campus
Resources to promote kindness toward and understanding of LGBTQ people in a Mormon context

Rebecca Simpson Craft. M.Ed.S., Licensed Educational Psychologist, is a life-long member of  the church. She and her husband have served in the Newport Beach Stake in Southern California for 27 years. Together, they have three children, including a returned missionary son who is gay. Rebecca has been active in developing LDS LGBTQ ministering resources, outreach to LGBTQ members, and parent support. She has consulted with leaders and church members in fostering welcoming and inclusive families and church communities within the LDS tradition.

Guest Post: Light-Bringer

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By Briana Cramer

A friend shared this quote from Chieko Okazaki about being a light bringer to dark places: “Make the choice to be a light-bringer to dark places.” As I scrolled into the quote for a second time my mind filled with a vision of how hard it actually is to be a light-bringer.

People live in their lighted towns and homes. The light is exactly where they expect it to be and it doesn’t change. There are shadowed places but they don’t look at that. That’s negative thinking and one should always just focus on the light.

So nobody likes a light-bringer. Someone who moves light into unexpected places. Who shines away the shadows and says to others, look. There’s something here. Look, that is wrong. Look, here is a good thing. Different . . . and still good.

Most people will shun the light-bringer. Friends and family of the light-bringer often scold them and try to encourage them to stop. Some will even attack the light-bringer. But a few will see and understand the light-bringer. Their faith and support can help them keep going. Keep doing what they’ve been doing.

It is necessary and vital work.

But it is hard.

People share this quote and they like the nice flowers and sunshine. They love the idea of being a light-bringer without actually thinking on what that means and what a light-bringer has to face and has to do.

They have to walk into darkness in order to bring light to it.

They have to accept the unknown things that their light will reveal.

They have to face away from the stable, expected light.

They have to acknowledge that there is even any darkness at all.

 

Briana is a nerd who loves God, games, and getting along with people. She’s never quite fit the mold and decided to make her own instead. She’s a self-proclaimed paladin who believes in love, justice, mercy and, above all else, the God-given right to make your own choices.

The Privilege of Leaving, or Staying.

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Photo by Jody England Hansen

Inspired by James C. Jones (Beyond the Block podcast) Facebook post, January 16, 2020, 10:50 a.m. “Marginalized pain shouldn’t be exploited for privileged agendas.”

 

The privilege of leaving…or staying.

About 55 years ago, when I was a child, I saw news footage of firehoses, police and their dogs, attacking black people during civil rights actions.

I cried all night. Even then not realizing I had the privilege of being upset and shocked, while in a safe home, being comforted by my parents, who were not in danger of being attacked.

I was appalled to hear racist rhetoric from many people, including church leaders.

And I had the privilege of talking about it with those who would acknowledge and encourage my own personal experience with God.

I was privileged to see a God who loved all without condition. I had the privilege of growing up with people who could help me see that racism and sexism were human constructs, and not decreed by God.

I was privileged to have a father who introduced me to activism when I was 8, and I saw it as a way to take part in creating new constructs in the world, and my life.

My activism, in social justice, in the world, in my church, all my life, has been a process of confronting myself.

I can’t help but yearn for it to reach a comfortable level. But I know that is not the nature of it.

Creating a fulfilling life in this world is about leaving the Garden, not returning to it.

Right now, I live in Salt Lake City, and am involved in advocacy and activism here at a time when a surprising number and variety of people are joining this work, and this conversation.

I am a white, cisgender, heterosexual, 9th generation Mormon woman. The only way I could be more privileged here in this place is if I presented as male, and if I had some more zeroes at the end of the amount of money in my bank account.

I do have the constant defensive radar that all women I know have, to be aware of how to protect myself wherever I am.

But in general…

I do not need to fear for my life or livelihood when I speak passionately at a press conference, or stubbornly interrupt a legislator at a town hall meeting, or testify at a legislative hearing, or at church. I know I will go home to a secure and comfortable house. I know I can love who I love, and not be afraid to show that love.

How often am I only showing up in the convenience of my privileged activism?

Or how often will I look for and see where discrimination is happening, and then stay and be a part of transforming the real life places of the marginalized?

The problems that create danger and exclusion are not isolated to one group, or church, or nation, or business, or family. These are human problems. With my privilege, I could leave any place where I do not find agreement, or acceptance. Then, if I wished, I could go and find another, more comfortable community. But I cannot leave the place of being human, or being among humans.

And if I did think I could leave any community, if I claim my so called integrity won’t let me remain where humans are still racist, or sexist, or homophobic – what does my integrity say about those lgbtq children being born to all humans. What does my integrity say about people of color, or LGBTQ people who seek to follow Christ everywhere, building the kingdom where they are, as Christ would, not waiting for convenience, or comfort, or agreement, or permission? What does my integrity say to the message from God that has pierced me – “Heaven is here, eternal life is now. You create it where you are.”

My privilege is worthless… nothing… If I do not use it to be in the place of woundedness, opposition, inconvenience – the place of grace, of creation, of unconditional, universal love of God.

In this place of seeking life, many voices echo what Christ lived – the only way to overcome evil, is with love. Difficult, confronting, inconvenient, overwhelming love.

It must be created in the midst of where it does not yet exist.

I have learned to see that Christ’s great message to me is this… If there is anyone you don’t love, you don’t love anyone.

Martin Luther King taught, if hate and injustice exist anywhere, it exists everywhere.

Using my privilege of leaving will only take me to another place to leave.

I seek to transform, where I am, on what Martin Luther King describes as “The Whole Jericho Road”.

“On the one hand we are called to play the good Samaritan on life’s roadside; but that will be only an initial act. One day we must come to see that the whole Jericho road must be transformed so that men and women will not be constantly beaten and robbed as they make their journey on life’s highway. True compassion is more than flinging a coin to a beggar; it is not haphazard and superficial. It comes to see that an edifice which produces beggars needs restructuring.”

-Martin Luther King Jr.,

A Time to Break Silence, in A Testament of Hope.

Each day can be a day to show up wherever I am in life, and create a new world.