Sarahbeth Caplin's Blog, page 35

Your fears about transgender bathrooms are highly exaggerated

I have to be honest about something: I never thought I’d care much about LGBT rights. That sounds terrible, I know, but as a straight, cis-gendered woman, I never thought I’d have a reason to. There are too many causes I care about that directly impact my life to add another one onto the plate.

But I do care, even if I have no idea what it’s like to struggle with gender or sexuality. I care because LGBT people are minorities. While my beliefs have evolved, my Jewish heritage technically makes me a minority, too. And I know all too well what it’s like to have to validate who you are to people who just don’t get it, and don’t care enough to even try.

People fear what they don’t understand. It’s one consistent thing about humanity that has not and likely will not ever change. Some people’s misunderstandings are a result of bigotry. And then there are people like Kaeley Triller, a rape survivor who expressed her concern in an article for The Federalist about the ramifications of allowing biological men who identify as women to use women’s restrooms and locker rooms.

As a rape survivor myself (I feel weird saying “survivor,” because my life was never in danger, but it sounds a lot better than “victim”), I get it. Really, I do. I know the feeling of assuming every male stranger is a predator, especially when you are by yourself in places like malls, airports, and train stations. It’s not about sexism, but survival. Paranoia itself is generally not a good thing, but in many cases, trusting your gut about something that just doesn’t feel “right” can save lives.

Triller insists she doesn’t believe that transgendered people are predators. She’s concerned about men who will try to pass themselves off as women to gain access to young girls at their most vulnerable.

First, let me just point out that men who dress like women are not transgendered. They are men dressed up as women, period. If we’re strictly talking about clothing here, gender dysphoria is way more complex than that. Men who dress as women with the goal of molesting women and girls are the real predators here. A study from the Williams Institute reports as follows:

In a separate, more qualitative survey of transgender people in San Francisco, Dylan Vade found that “out of 116 responses from those who did not identify as male or female, 48 people took the time to write out specific bathroom experiences, all negative. These experiences ranged from harassment to violence to getting fired” (Vade 2002, 2). Respondents reported being physically abused, verbally harassed, fired, arrested, and made ill from avoiding restrooms altogether.

Yes, there is a clear risk of allowing transgendered individuals to use the restroom that best represents their identity: to the transgendered themselves.

Lest you still think that transgendered = pervert in disguise, let me regale you with this golden quip from Louie Gohmert, a Republican congressman from Texas:

“I was as good a kid as you can have growing up, I never drank alcohol till I was legal, never to, still, use an illegal drug, but in the seventh grade if the law had been that all I had to do was say, ‘I’m a girl,’ and I got to go into the girls’ restroom, I don’t know if I could’ve withstood the temptation just to get educated back in those days.”

So a congressman publicly admits to wishing he committed voyeurism, and that’s not sick at all. The transgendered are still the enemy? Politicians like Gohmert seem like the real predators to me.

Back to Kaeley Triller:

While I feel a deep sense of empathy for what must be a very difficult situation for transgender people, at the beginning and end of the day, it is nothing short of negligent to instate policies that elevate the emotional comfort of a relative few over the physical safety of a large group of vulnerable people.

Don’t they know anything about predators? Don’t they know the numbers? That out of every 100 rapes, only two rapists will spend so much as single day in jail while the other 98 walk free and hang out in our midst? Don’t they know that predators are known to intentionally seek out places where many of their preferred targets gather in groups? That perpetrators are addicts so committed to their fantasies they’ll stop at nothing to achieve them?

Those statistics are disturbing, yes. But here’s the thing about predators: a stick-figure woman in a triangle dress posted on the bathroom door is not going to deter them. Will a person sick enough to commit rape have any qualms about going into the wrong restroom? I’m thinking…no, not really. If “free access” to young girls is the real concern, predators already have it. Let’s also not forget that having a vagina does not mean you can’t be a predator, either. The numbers of sexual assaults committed by women are small compared to assaults committed by men, but they happen (and are far less likely to be reported than male-on-female rape).

And then there’s this: 47% of rapes are committed by someone who already knows and has regular access to the victim, like a friend or a relative (the actual number could be much higher, since rape is one of the most under-reported crimes in human history). So statistically speaking, you might actually be safer in a public restroom than in the home of someone you know.

When it comes down to it, though, we all want the same thing: a safer world with less violence. I’m sure most people don’t want to see anyone get hurt, trans or otherwise. I don’t know what the ideal solution is, but let’s make sure our arguments are coming from facts, not fears.

For more insight, check out We STILL just need to pee by Callie Wright

The Lie Behind the Transgender Bathroom Predator Myth by Libby Anne

I’m a Transgender man in North Carolina. Here’s what the bathroom law means for me by Charlie Comero.

Filed under: Other stuff, Rape Culture Tagged: Controversy, LGBT, social justice

‘Skeptic’ cover reveal, now available for pre-order!

Confessions of a Jew-ish Skeptic has a cover…and is now available for pre-order!

I seriously debated querying this one, only to decide on self-publishing because this book is just too personal. It follows my faith journey picking up from where Prodigal Daughter left off: after seminary, after my father’s death; two events that flipped my world upside down and inside out.

I ask hard questions. I don’t try to answer them. But I’m hoping that my readers – “Jew-ish” or not – will see some of their own story in mine, and feel better about not having everything figured out yet.

I should also mention a trigger warning in chapter 4 of Part One. For the first time ever, I talk about my rape. I don’t think it’s graphic, but it’s frank and honest. So if that’s a sensitive issue for you…well, maybe skip the first few pages.

It’s relevant to the book because it’s why I had no trouble believing that God saw me as worthless and depraved; a “used tampon,” according to one student from Campus Crusade for Christ. I firmly believed that my sins were just as bad as those of my rapist. I believed I deserved nothing good to happen to me, in this life or the next. My understanding of God was so skewed for such a long time, especially because my boyfriend claimed to be such a devout Catholic.

But rather than mentioning the abuse and leaving it at that, as I did in the first Confessions, I expanded on what happened for a couple reasons. I will never be able to tell what happened to a court, so telling the world in a book is the next best thing. Keeping it a secret just didn’t work for me because it tore me apart. It lead to binge drinking and harmful thoughts about myself. It threatened to wreck my other relationships. I also debated for years whether what happened was actually “legitimate rape,” for lack of a better expression. It’s helpful for me to have a definition for it, even if it’s an ugly one.

Putting it out there makes it valid, and as many survivors can affirm, being validated and believed is one of the most empowering things that help with healing.

I’m also better at writing than speaking, especially on a topic as hard as this one. There wouldn’t be many opportunities to talk about it anyway, other than with a therapist, and if I did, I’d likely fall apart in the process.

So writing about it is, as always, the most healing route for me to take.

But that’s confined to one chapter, for anyone concerned that this is going to be a dark book. In some ways it is, but not because of that. A story about the struggle to keep faith in the midst of doubt is a harder story to tell than how I found it. Real life, as we all learn eventually, is rarely easy. But this book, I hope, will be encouraging to those who feel stuck, and worry that their fears will be addressed with the platitude “Just pray about it,” or worse: “You’re not really one of us.”

Skeptic’s tentative release date is May 27th (depends on how the formatting process goes). Pre-order it on Amazon here.

Filed under: Rape Culture, Religion, Writing & Publishing Tagged: Author Sarahbeth Caplin, Campus Crusade for Christ, Christian culture, Christianity, Confessions of a Prodigal Daughter, depression, evangelicals, grief, Indie Author Life, Judaism, memoir, rape culture, self-care, self-publishing, Seminary, social justice, Writing

Fundamentalism and interfaith dialogue

I had the privilege of participating in Colorado State’s first “Better Together” Day: a collaborative effort of various faith ministries on campus. The point was to wear a nametag with your faith affiliation on it so you could find someone of a different faith tradition to talk to and learn from. There were “Christian,” “Jewish,” and “Atheist” labels along with more creative ones: “Spiritual but not religious,” “Love is all you need,” and “It’s all good as long as you don’t try and convert me” (I liked that one best).

Me, well, I briefly considered “Jewish-born Christian” and “Jewish-born Christian with agnostic tendencies,” but in the end I settled on simply “Christian.” I like my labels to be neat and uncomplicated, even if that means people might make assumptions about me that aren’t completely true.

Those details were bound to come out in conversation anyway. This circle alone consisted of Christians (one Greek Orthodox), Jews, an agnostic, atheist, and a Catholic (I’m on the far left in the blue shirt and sunglasses).

I don’t know how other conversations went, but this one seemed to discuss religious background more than our current beliefs. I’m continually fascinated at how some people raised secular grew up to become religious, while others raised religious ended up secular. Me, I fall into the former category. Perhaps Christian parents should raise their kids without religion to guarantee they come to church?

Response to a misogynist who claims sex toys = satanism

“Too many Christian women are losing their salvation because they masturbate. Dildos and all of those other sex toys have been used for thousands of years in demonic sex rituals. It’s one of the main ways ancient pagan societies worshiped their demonic gods.

Masturbation is a direct path to Satan. There’s nothing normal about it. And shame on any Christian that says so.”

Dear Eden Decoded,

First of all, I must compliment you on your choice of photography to accompany your Facebook post. Did you download that picture from a photo stock website, or did you photograph it in person? If the latter, please let me know where I can find this magic garden of penises, because it looks downright enchanting.

Now, on to the content of your actual post. First of all, I am not aware of any Bible verse that says “Thou shalt not use sex toys.” Is this PSA for single or married women (and why did you only address it to women, anyway? Did you mean to imply that male masturbation is totes okay with God?)? You didn’t specify, so I’m going to assume you’re addressing both demographics. But what if a husband and wife engage in this practice because it’s the only way the wife gets any enjoyment out of sex? Asking for a friend.

My guess, however, is that you’re not all that concerned about what the woman feels during sex. Maybe you think that sex for pleasure and not procreation is a sin as well (in which case, you’re gonna be really shocked by the Song of Songs in the Old Testament). The thing is, ED, that sex SHOULD be an act of bonding and intimacy for married couples. You may or may not be aware that sex, for many women, is a highly unpleasant experience. Not all women are able to orgasm via intercourse, and no matter how much lubricant is used, it can still feel like attempting to slide down a water slide without water. Hence why sex toys can be, er, helpful.

Is this too graphic for you? Sorry, but Christians aren’t doing anyone any favors by not discussing the reality of sex: it’s a bone of contention (snicker, snicker) for many couples when they find out that abstinence until the wedding night doesn’t guarantee fireworks. Couples who are not advised to communicate and experiment in the bedroom will have problems. Maybe in your world, abstinence is all it takes to have magic sex, but reality disagrees with that notion. Therefore, I have to assume you are male, because honestly? Lack of sensitivity for women who find intercourse painful or unpleasant is such a typical man thing.

Many people, Christian and otherwise, would call that “sexist.” And I must inform you, ED, that sexism is probably a much more direct path to satan than couples using sex toys.

Sincerely,

A sex-positive, married Christian

Filed under: Feminism, Religion Tagged: Christian culture, Christianity, Controversy, evangelicals, Feminism, marriage

No, I’m not going to smile for you

I’m not very good at knowing when to stand up for myself. I’m not even good at determining my rights in certain situations. I’ll be one of the first people to call someone out for telling a sexist joke, but when it comes to my own self, I don’t want to seem too entitled. Too self-important. Too demanding.

As a kid, I wasn’t aware of the stereotype that assertive men are leaders, and assertive women are bitches. My mother was my advocate when some of my elementary school teachers didn’t accommodate the conditions of my IEP for anxiety, OCD, and Tourette’s. I wasn’t afraid to do it myself, necessarily, but it felt awkward to correct someone I’d been taught to respect as an authority figure. And plenty of authority figures abuse their power to make you feel stupid for defending yourself at all, even if your reasons are legitimate and your words are polite.

I’ve gotten through many difficult circumstances by reminding myself that things could always be worse: my boyfriend abused me, but never to a point that I had to visit the ER; that stranger at the coffee shop, that college professor – both men – asking me why I’m not smiling could have said far worse things (though I did ask that professor if he would ever make that comment to a male student, and got no response).

Things could be a lot worse. Obviously one man’s dumb comment isn’t as bad as a physical assault. But aren’t the worst offenses piled on a foundation of smaller ones? Can all acts of sexism, big or small, be traced back to an unhealthy sense of entitlement?

Is it possible that the man who isn’t called out for being rude by telling women how to express their emotions will feel entitled to push things further by making ruder comments in the future – comments that could very well be considered harassment? Or that the man who emotionally manipulates his girlfriend into having sex she doesn’t want will escalate to physically damaging violence?

Whatever the case, in both scenarios, you have men asking or outright demanding a woman to do something for their benefit, not hers (do you honestly know anyone who smiles ALL THE TIME? I sure don’t). If something is offensive enough to make a classroom or workplace awkward or uncomfortable, it should be called out, even if it’s “not that bad” by most people’s standards.

Does my life have to be threatened before I can stand up for my right to a healthy relationship, a safe learning environment, a harassment-free walk down the street?

Back to the “really bad” stuff: there’s not a lot of difference in attitude between the man who gropes a cocktail waitress and the man who tells her he likes staring at her ass without ever laying a hand on her. The man whose rude comments are allowed to slide is only working his way up to the kind of man who assaults women. The problem isn’t just what some men say, but the attitude of entitlement they feel while saying it.

Take, for example, this brewery owner’s response to a customer he recently banned from entering his establishment. This patron never physically assaulted any of the bar employees, but thankfully the owner wasn’t going to wait for that to happen before issuing the ban:

In January he made several sexist remarks about the female staff that were working. He told them to their faces that that he liked looking at their tits while they washed dishes, and their asses while they were pouring drinks. He was told to leave and not come back. He came back last month, and was told we wouldn’t serve him. He came back yet again today, and when told he wouldn’t be served demanded to talk to a manger.

I sat with him for a few minutes as he explained that what he said would have been okay 20 years ago, and that it was just some off colour remarks. He told me he had apologized, and that he guessed my servers were too sensitive. He then told me that if what he said was a problem, then I should tell them not to wear low cut shirts, and that I should face the dish washing sink away from customers. But since he apologized, he should be allowed to drink in my establishment because he lives in the neighborhood and will bring in business.

I told him flatly that wasn’t happening, and that what he said to those ladies was incredibly offensive. The simple fact that he couldn’t understand that just because they were were working didn’t mean they deserve his disrespectful language. That these ladies were part of my family, and were human beings that deserved respect. They aren’t objects, and they certainly shouldn’t have to wear different clothes because he can’t be bothered with showing them any decency or respect. “But we’re men and they’re females. Is cleavage just not a thing anymore?”

The world needs more men like this.

Of course, the average man who tells me “I bet you look real pretty when you smile,” or something of that nature, probably isn’t, and never will be, a harasser or a rapist. He may think he’s being polite by giving me a compliment. But I don’t know who he really is. I don’t know what his true intentions are. It doesn’t make the comment any less sexist. Now, as a grown-up, I have reached a point where I can comfortably say, “Please don’t tell me what to do with my face.” And hopefully won’t get harassed for it.

The smile on the left is genuine. The one on the right is not. Smile 1 cannot be done on demand. If you ask me to smile, Smile 2 is what you’ll get.

Also, “resting bitch face” is a real thing, because Buzzfeed said so.

Filed under: Feminism, Rape Culture Tagged: Controversy, Feminism, rape culture, social justice

The scandal of disagreeing with doctrine

I’ve written before about why I don’t believe in good people. Truthfully, I could believe this with or without Christianity and the doctrine of Original Sin. But it’s one thing to believe humans are “not good,” and quite another to say we are fundamentally “broken.” I’ve listened to and read stories of former Christians who endured years of poor self-esteem because of the way they were indoctrinated: made to feel guilty and hate themselves simply for being born.

More progressive strands of Christianity might say we are “flawed” in place of harsher terms like “broken” or “depraved,” but the sentiment is very similar, and likely won’t make skeptics feel much better.

This has been an issue of contention between me and a close Christian-turned-atheist friend. This is one doctrine I have not been willing to budge on, much less reconsider. Here’s a revealing truth, though: it may not be entirely inaccurate to say my view of mankind has been strongly influenced by the abusive relationship I was in for five years. Being told I was worthless by my boyfriend, mostly through actions, and then told the same, in words, at Campus Crusade for Christ was an easy transition for me. Had I been a psychologically healthier person, I might have pushed back on this teaching a lot more.

I tried the “flawed not broken” approach with Neil. The idea that “doing good” is not the same BEING good. He wasn’t buying it:

Can you say instead that humans are constantly learning? How about evolving? Slowly progressing? Making advances all the time? In the cosmic time scale (think in millions of years, not hundreds, because life doesn’t evolve at the speeds we prefer), we are moving forward. Might we fail to overcome our own limitations? Sure, we might.

But any look back through history requires selectivity of some kind, an interpretive grid. The one Christianity uses DEMANDS that humanity be seen in a fundamentally negative light. But why? Why must the capacity for harm and self interest be the thing we say is MORE BASIC? What compels us to do that? Is it because the number of evils in our past outnumber the goods?

Are you sure about that?

Or are you compelled to do so by a narrative that requires it, because without that piece, the whole edifice of this religion collapses upon itself?

Well. Color me speechless. I really have no idea how to respond to this.

Or this:

You know how the news adage is “If it bleeds it leads?” The reality is that thousands, maybe millions of good things are happening every day, but they don’t make the news. Why not? Because that’s just not how news works.

And what is history if it’s not “the news” compiled over the course of thousands of years? Human history is a distillation of all the bleeding and leading of hundreds of thousands of news cycles. That skews our perception. Badly. Toward seeing humans as collectively worse than they really are.

Nobody writes history about the guys who decided NOT to start a war.

Neil’s words aren’t illogical. In fact, he presents a very believable case by citing real-world observations, as opposed to me citing a handful of Bible verses from a book that no longer has the same authority for him that it once did.

Brutal honesty must be one of my spiritual gifts, because otherwise I’d never ask myself what Neil is asking. Not to myself, and definitely not on a public blog (call me a spiritual exhibitionist): am I compelled to defend this view because a narrative I believe to be divinely inspired requires it?

I used to joke that anyone who is unsure if Original Sin is real should babysit a child in the midst of the Terrible Twos. Choose the wrong colored sippy cup, and bring on the apocalypse.

But that’s an expected phase of childhood, and I don’t have to have kids of my own to doubt this doctrine when holding an innocent, chubby-cheeked, sweet-smelling baby. I did just that at a Christmas party last year, and had to fight off that “Ooooh, I want one” feeling.

Yes, I doubt this doctrine. And it’s a slippery slope, because if humans aren’t inherently not-good, why did Jesus have to die? What is it that he died for – our bad life choices?

It could all fall apart.

I don’t think I’m a “true” agnostic. Agnostics, from what I know, make peace with uncertainty, and I’m not good at that. “Agnostic” is less a self-identifier as it is a name for a phase – a dry spell, a season – that I’m in right now. It’s not a place I want to stay. I have a long-term goal of getting my faith back. You could say I’m an agnostic with an agenda.

I’ve seen the complete picture of the puzzle on the box, and it looks beautiful (many will disagree, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder, right?). But putting all the pieces together myself is a long-term project, in which I’m fairly certain a few pieces are missing. The entire puzzle will never be complete. Therefore I must learn to live with an incomplete vision of the finished product.

Some people think all cats are depraved. Yes, those are claw marks in the toilet paper. No, she doesn’t look sorry. But she’s SO CUTE.

Filed under: Religion Tagged: Campus Crusade for Christ, Christian culture, Christianity, evangelicals

When rhetoric kills

Yesterday was Transgender Visibility Day. But first, a quote by blogger Libby Anne (her post is about the young creationist group Answers in Genesis explaining the problem of evil, but this quote is relevant to what I want to discuss today):

Two centuries ago, many American Christians believed that slavery was ordained by God. Over time, Christian moral systems have changed, and today it is rare to find Christians who believe that dictatorship is a form of government favored by God, or that slavery is biblical and morally justified. Christian moral systems have changed in part because they have been influenced by secular moral systems, and not the other way around.

It’s for this reason I struggle to believe homosexuality or being transgendered is a sin. Just like there were Christian-based abolitionist groups accused of “going against God’s design” for races, there are now LGBT-affirming Christian groups who are facing the exact same accusation.

What a difference a century, half a century, or even a decade can make. It’s really hard for me to accept “the biblical view” LGBT matters when, assuming the homosexuality issue follows the same track as the slavery issue, many Christians will eventually claim that Scripture was just misinterpreted through the lenses of bigotry. By the time my future children reach high school, Christians might even say *they* were the ones on the front lines for LGBT equality all along!

Against my better judgment, I got into an argument with someone recently about how much our placement in history influences our thinking. He couldn’t get it. He condemned slavery and racism, but condemned my assertion that if he were alive in the era of Jim Crow, he’d probably have been a racist. A Jesus-loving racist. And hey, maybe I would have been, too.

Maybe I’m using the wrong words. When I write about the importance of understanding people who differ from me, some have taken that to mean “accepting all viewpoints as valid.” Um, no. I don’t know anyone who does that, no matter how liberal and tolerant they claim to be. How did the concept of “understanding” get so skewed?!

Today, many Christians are anti-LGBT equality in all forms. I’m pretty convinced that this is a matter of cultural influence over biblical interpretation, mostly because gender dysphoria as we understand it today is nowhere in Scripture (it’s a bit more complex than just cross-dressing). There have always been LGBT people, but not until this century did science and psychology finally begin to understand the biological and psychological underpinnings that make gender and sexual identity so complex.

I’m not making any proclamations about LGBT “lifestyles” being moral or immoral. That’s not a debate I wish to get involved in. What I am saying is that there is fear, disgust, and discrimination happening based on lack of understanding; Christians are just as guilty of this as anyone. Based on several Facebook posts, tweets, and blog forums, it’s pretty obvious who has taken the time to get to know and understand LGBT persons and who hasn’t. “But I have gay/transgendered friends!” doesn’t really mean anything. Maybe you work with a transgendered person and make small talk with him/her on a daily basis. But that’s nothing like sitting down and asking what it’s like to be in their skin; trapped in bodies that never felt like theirs.

That’s unimaginable to me, as a cis-gendered, heterosexual woman. And I confess, I don’t know any transgendered people personally. But I do know what it’s like to go through life being misunderstood, and I want to understand. I want to be corrected if my opinions are rooted in ignorance. I want to be called out if anything I’m doing is only helping the world remain a dangerous place for people to simply be themselves.

You can tell some people that the rhetoric they’re espousing is not only wrong, but dangerous. You can tell them that their words are literally killing people. You can present a list of facts that show why their opinions are misinformed. And it still won’t make a difference.

I am so damn sick of being part of a group that routinely preaches ignorance. There are many wonderful Christian advocates out there, but they are overshadowed by the hateful ones. The hardest part of faith is not always doctrine, but people. And it’s times such as these where Jesus’ examples of loving the most unlovable are so poignant and necessary.

Filed under: Other stuff, Religion Tagged: Christian culture, Christianity, Controversy, evangelicals, LGBT, social justice, Spiritual Abuse

The Way I Used to Be: a review

Scrolling through reviews of the newly published novel The Way I Used to Be on Goodreads, one in particular stood out to me. This reviewer is “sick and tired of yet ANOTHER ‘damaged girl’ narrative after being raped.”

The extent of which author Amber Smith chronicles main character Eden’s downward spiral after being raped by a family friend is not for the faint of heart. Eden’s life becomes a mess, that’s for sure. She’s justifiably angry about her assault, and that no one would believe her if she told. So she lashes out. She hurts people. She sleeps with dozens of guys because she’s lost all sense of self-worth. Not surprisingly, she earns a reputation as the school slut.

True, this narrative is familiar. It’s been done before, but I really think Smith’s book is different. I’ve read many YA books about rape: Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson, All the Rage by Courtney Summers, What We Saw by Aaron Hartzler, and Fault Line by Christa Desir, to name a few. The last two are written from the perspective of an outsider responding to the aftermath of an assault on someone they know. The first two are written in the voice of the victims themselves, and yes, they are “damaged.” How can they not be? But despite having that in common, the stories they tell are still unique. The protagonists’ ways of processing what was done to them are still different, because all survivors’ responses to rape are different, and all of them are valid.

So how is Smith’s novel different? I have not read a novel that so accurately shows the ripple effect that rape can have on a person’s life, even years after it happened. This book is so raw, yet so painfully real. The story follows Eden from her freshman year up until senior year of high school (which has some flaws, since that’s a huge chunk of time for a novel to cover, so naturally there are gaps missing in time), and the “damage” is cumulative. Other rape novels fall into the cursed pattern of TELLING instead of SHOWING the reader what is happening. Smith is an expert at “showing” Eden’s downward spiral, and that is important. It’s important because, while not everyone who has dozens of sex partners is “acting out” from abuse, you never know if “that slut” is fighting a battle you know nothing about. And in a world that loves to slut-shame, humanizing those “sluts” is so, so necessary.

Personally, I resonated with Eden. I too have hurt people because I’d been hurt, and felt good doing it. Sometimes I lashed out because of a truly insensitive comment someone made: “Your Dad can’t die without knowing Jesus, or you know what will happen!” Other times, I made a conscious choice to hurt someone with words. While my grief was a motivator, I know it wasn’t an excuse. I think Eden realizes that about her own actions, and her behavior toward the people trying to help her really is infuriating at times, but what I see – and perhaps what other abuse survivors will pick up as well – is fear. Fear of being known, of having someone see the damage done and run away in horror.

It’s easier for Eden to let guys use her sexually than expose her heart, but she still hopes to find some semblance of worth in these encounters. And she never does. The loneliness and insecurity continue to worsen, but even after she realizes the effect these meaningless hookups have on her, she still concludes that intimacy is a far greater risk. Oh, do I get that.

Fear is the reason I told my husband on our first date that I’d been raped by my last boyfriend and still had a lot of processing to do; could he handle that? I wanted to get all that out on the table before getting my heart involved, which would hurt so much worse than losing him from the beginning, before falling in love with him. He said, “I’m still processing hurt from previous relationships, too. We can do that together.”

So while the “damaged girl” narrative isn’t original and may be considered a trope, I still think it’s important to dissect, if handled responsibly. Other Goodreads reviews came from self-identified rape survivors who went the complete opposite direction: they feared sex and shunned all kinds of physical touch, no matter how platonic. These reviews confessed not knowing about the connection between PTSD and “acting out” sexually. But this book helped them understand. For that reason, I highly recommend it, but at your own risk. Trigger warnings abound, and I had to take frequent breaks to finish this. Still, it’s worth it.

Filed under: Rape Culture Tagged: depression, Feminism, grief, rape culture, self-care

Apologetics: more questions than actual answers

Nothing is more dangerous to one’s own faith than the work of an apologist. No doctrine of that faith seems to me so spectral, so unreal as one that I have just successfully defended in a public debate.

I have to agree with C.S. Lewis here. I still collect apologetics books with the hope that someone will have some original material. Or maybe someone will explain a common Christian-ism (“People send themselves to hell”) in a way that makes a bit more sense. But what happens when those explanations still fail to satisfy? I also have to agree with my friend Neil, who claims apologetics are not for the lost, but for the saved. If you are already convinced of Christianity’s basic doctrines – belief in God, belief in sin, belief in Jesus’ resurrection – then apologetic explanations are a lot easier to accept. You’re not as inclined to notice logical fallacies around the edges.

In church recently, a man shared his testimony and offered his reasons for belief. In a nutshell, it boiled down to Pascal’s wager: it’s better to believe and be wrong, because nothing will happen to you after you die, as opposed to not believing, and ending up in hell. For those who already believe, this makes perfect sense. Then you have people like me with the following objections: 1) Can’t this wager be used to justify belief in any religion? And 2) Is fear of being wrong really a good reason to become – or remain – a Christian? Doesn’t sound like a relationship of love to me.

When you’ve been searching and searching for years and the answers still don’t make sense, maybe it’s time to drop the questions and focus on what does make sense: redemption. Radical compassion. Humble servitude. The faith I am fighting to reclaim was something truly beautiful. I’m afraid that if I dwell too much on making sense of hell, original sin, and other less-than-pleasant teachings, I’ll lose my faith altogether. I don’t want that.

So as much as I’d love some answers, what I’m happy settling for right now is a community of like-minded believers who share the same struggles, and use their stories to encourage one another. I want to meet more people who feel like walking contradictions; who are constantly told they can’t be both Christian and [blank].

I no longer feel a need to defend my faith. My experiences are my own, and unlike apologetic arguments cannot easily be refuted.

Filed under: Religion Tagged: Christian culture, Christianity, evangelicals, hell, Writing

Here’s why we still need feminism

I read this quote on Twitter, but I can’t remember who said it: Saying “I don’t need feminism because I’m not oppressed” is like saying “I don’t need a fire extinguisher because my house isn’t on fire.”

I love it. I’m continually astounded that there are people, especially women, who can’t see the connection between “I’m not being oppressed” and the hard work on behalf of feminists to make that safety from oppression possible. Do we no longer need soldiers because we’re already “free”? No; we need soldiers in order to stay free. Some rights always have to be fought for.

Perhaps feminism is misunderstood because the focus is always on the bigger picture. We are now able to vote, work outside the home if we want, pursue any degree of higher education that we want. But I see a need for feminism in smaller, day-by-day interactions and experiences that are far too common. On the grander scale of equal rights, many people view the cat-calls and the need to go to the bathroom in groups for safety reasons as just things to put up with, because “it could always be worse.” We need to stop being such babies. We need to put on our Big Girl pants and just deal with it. Think of women living under the Taliban!

That doesn’t make it okay.

The following videos are excerpts from a Colorado State production inspired by the Vagina Monologues, explaining these “everyday feminisms.” You might recognize the first one from an earlier blog post, and the second is performed with permission from the original writers from Rutgers University.

 

Filed under: Feminism, Rape Culture Tagged: Feminism, rape culture, social justice