Sarahbeth Caplin's Blog, page 60

‘Fifty Shades’ of Feminist Misconception

Since reading Sarah Bessey’s Jesus Feminist, I’ve been hungry for more Christian feminist books. That search hasn’t been too fruitful, since “Christian feminist” is still very much a taboo term at best, and oxymoronic at worst.

I started reading Pulling Back the Shades by Juli Slattery and Dannah Gresh. It’s a short little book written in response to the popularity of Fifty Shades of Grey, and discusses whether BDSM-style sex can ever be healthy in a committed, loving relationship.

I was right on target with the authors for the first half. With my history of abuse, I agree that BDSM isn’t healthy (though if you strongly disagree, feel free to respectfully engage with me on this). I also agree that erotica can produce unhealthy and often unrealistic expectations for real-life sex. As for Fifty Shades, I’ve never read it, but based on the reviews I’ve read I have no desire to; I’m afraid some parts of it might be triggering for me. I have a hard time wrapping my mind around Christian women in particular praising this book, but I fully agree with the authors that it’s tough to outright condemn the consensual activities married people do in private. I may not like it, but if both parties are enthusiastic, who am I to judge?

I wanted so badly to like this book, since a therapist I deeply respect recommended it to me. But the authors lost me by page 87 with this anecdote:

After a fight with her husband on where to park the car (?), Dannah Gresh writes, “I realized that my feminist independence had only resulted in isolation and loneliness…I felt prompted to awaken my husband and do something so submissive that it could have only come from the heart of God [she proceeds to wash his feet]…My once-feminist hands finally became truly, powerfully feminine!”

No no no no no! This is not what feminism is!

If Gresh were referring only to the modern feminist stereotype that feminism is women degrading men to atone for centuries of patriarchy, I’d agree that that is definitely something to wash her hands of. If Gresh addressed mutual submission, as stated in Ephesians 5:25, “25 Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her 26 to make her holy,” her words would have a lot more merit.

The pitting of Submissive Female against the Modern Feminist Usurper (because apparently there’s only those options) has been reinforced in several Christian “self-help” books I’ve read over the years, from Stasi Eldredge to Nancy Leigh DeMoss to Shannon Ethridge, and more. The subtle critiquing of the feminist movement as a whole is done with slightly varying personal stories and metaphors, but the common denominator seems to be that all women want their longings satisfied in the exact same way. Do women want to be respected? Sure, that’s a common human desire. But I resent being told by an author who doesn’t know me or my personal experiences that playing the role of a damsel is the only way to be satisfied.

The more I read, the more I become convinced that “biblical womanhood” is a construct made up by evangelicals more than a list of static commandments ordered by God. There are biblical virtues that all Christians should strive for, but I have yet to read any specific requirement on one way to live those virtues. For some women, maybe that does include washing their husbands’ feet. For others, maybe that means gently suggesting there is a more ideal parking spot the husband might have missed.

I think “feminism” is more than an effort to restore human dignity in women. Can it also be a radical assumption that sometimes women have unique ideas, and it’s not wrong to politely vocalize them? Or a profound realization that men can learn from women, and the roles they choose to play in their marriages are decided on with equal parts compromise and respect?

As much as I believe that words are arbitrary – that definitions and contexts are always in flux – I’m not ready to let “feminist” go to the dogs yet.

Same author, different site

So, in an effort to start treating my writing less like a hobby and more like a business, I have created my own web domain! Follow me at www.sbethcaplin.com.

“God owes you a husband” and other lies we tell single women

If there’s a book with a message that helped me at a critical point in my life, chances are I’ll keep it forever…even if I end up reading that same book with a completely different mindset years later.

One of those books is The Thrill of the Chaste by Dawn Eden: a story of one woman’s descent into casual sex, Sex and the City-style, and hope of eventually finding a husband. A practice that magazines like Cosmopolitan and pop culture at large endorse as reasonable and expected.

I like the book because the author does a pretty good job dissecting the problems with this approach to relationships–rarely (though there are exceptions) does mutual objectification lead to healthy, fulfilling commitment–but she does so with the mindset that every opportunity for a one-night-stand she turns down makes her that much closer to finding her future husband. Even more troubling, she seems to believe that doing relationships “God’s way” somehow entitles her to marrying someday.

Even now that I’m engaged, I don’t think I’m being “rewarded” for all my years of waiting (and to be honest, I wasn’t very good at it). I don’t think I deserve Josh any more than I deserve a new job, a better car, a trouble-free life. In college I attended bible studies exclusively for single women, which taught me that God has chosen a man for me, and I can have him…if I pray hard enough, and live a sexually pure lifestyle with few blemishes in it.

I’ve read very few books, save for Lauren Winner’s Real Sex: The Naked Truth About Chastity, that endorse chastity for chastity’s sake. Isn’t living chastely for the sake of a husband losing the point? What about the benefits of chastity on its own?

I wish I had known that there’s a difference between being abstinent and being chaste: even married sex is chaste sex, if you subscribe to the belief that chastity is all about putting sex in its proper place (and if you don’t, this whole post may sound silly to you).

But back to this idea that praying and living an abstinent, chaste life entitles you to a husband…it doesn’t. Those bible study messages actually produced a harmful idea that all women are meant to get married, and that God has designed one specific man in mind for each. If you miss him, or sin too much, you lose him. That’s it.

Truthfully, you can be compatible with any number of people, because love is a choice. It’s not just something you “feel.”

I don’t know what to say to women who deeply desire marriage, but spend most of their lives being single, except this: marriage is not the only legitimate way to experience real love, nor should it be considered the ultimate achievement in one’s life. Before Josh, I was prepared to be single for a while. I just didn’t feel “called” to marriage, and I had been depressed about it for so long that I decided to stop treating it like a curse.

Once I stopped watching that scene from Bridget Jones’ Diary where Bridget drowns her sorrows in ice cream belting out Celine Dion on repeat—truly believing that’s what the rest of my life would look like without a man—I started thinking of all the productive things I could do with that time. I could travel. I could decorate my apartment any way I want. I could make all my own decisions without factoring in another person’s opinion. I could invest more deeply in my friendships (which is, so far, one of my biggest marriage fears: that I’ll be so engrossed in newlywed excitement, my old friendships suffer, and that gives one more reason for my single friends not to rejoice as more of their friends get engaged. It means they disappear!).

Don’t get me wrong: marriage is a gift, and I’m looking forward to it. But singleness can be a gift too. Had I read a book with that kind of message at age seventeen, back when I was wondering if something was wrong with me because I’d never had a serious relationship before, I would have benefited much more. A promise from a stranger about God’s plan for my own life isn’t much to bank on. I wish more women who are fed the lie that marriage = ultimate crown of glory would start taking charge of their own lives and their own happiness. You are entitled to nothing but the life you choose.

When Cynicism Throws Coffee in Your Face

While some days are worse than others, I’ve been stuck in an “I hate people” funk for over a year. I’ve had so many moments where I questioned my decision to stay in Colorado, because I left my closest friends in Cleveland. Not a large number of people, but a select few I know I can count on in dire circumstances. Tell secrets to. Look stupid in front of.

It’s been a slow process finding those people in Denver. Today, at my favorite coffee shop, someone I know from seminary waved at me from across the room like I was her best friend – someone who repeatedly told me, “Let’s get coffee!” but never responded to a single call or text about when to make that happen.

I hate people, I thought as I waved back.

The only table that happened to be available was tucked in a corner. Not my favorite spot, but an outlet and bathroom were nearby: two absolute necessities. I set up camp there, preparing to stay there for a few hours editing the first draft of my newest manuscript. With my laptop open and headphones in (even with no music playing) I’m pretty sure I had my DO NOT DISTURB ME vibes in full motion.

I typed furiously for about thirty minutes when I looked up, and saw someone I didn’t know (could have been my age, but I’m horrible at guessing people’s ages) saying something in my direction. Initially annoyed, I ripped out my headphones and said, “Yes?” as politely as I could muster.

“I’ve seen you here before,” she said. “I was wondering if maybe you wanted to join me and my friend at that table over there?”

She points to the table I always hope to get when I come here – but it was occupied when I arrived.

I weighed my options: how much editing will I get done if I’m sitting with two people who will expect me to make some kind of introduction about myself? But then again, how choosy can I afford to be when people are attempting to make friends with me?

Honestly? Not very. It’s been easier to keep to myself to avoid disappointment and stick to my best “friends” that only exist in books. But something about this person’s face convinced me this was a chance I had to take.

Screw your paranoia, Sarahbeth. Go make some friends. So I packed up my stuff, and joined their table.

I did get some editing done: not as much as I would have liked, but the time lost on that project was made up for with riveting discussion about whether it’s polite to eavesdrop on conversations that are happening a mere few feet away from you, and if people have the right to be offended if you insert your own opinion, because there’s no such thing as an expectation of private conversation in crowded coffeehouses.

“Sometimes I can’t help but say something,” I told my new tablemates, *Susie and *Milton. “Depends on the subject matter. If people are showing extreme ignorance then I feel like it’s an obligation. Because stupid can be contagious.”

And this, Sarahbeth, is why you don’t have a lot of friends. That kind of honesty gets you in trouble.

“That’s hilarious,” laughed Milton. Leaning toward Susie, he asked, “Where did you find this one?”

“Back in that corner,” Susie answered, smiling.

We didn’t leave exchanging numbers or Facebook usernames, but we did part with an expectation that “maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime.”

I have no idea if I’ll ever see those two again. But even if I don’t, it’s nice to be reminded every now and then that people are capable of surprising you.

Drunk Facebooking and the Complexities of Human Nature

A thirty-two-year-old woman is killed while updating her Facebook status behind the wheel of a moving car, and the Internet is flooding with opinions.

Reactions span everywhere from “She deserves a Darwin award” to “How would YOU like your entire life to be judged based on one mistake?”

Talk about extremes. One could rationally argue that Facebooking while driving is more a deliberate choice than a “mistake,” but I can understand the sentiment behind it: no one wants to be remembered solely for the wrongs they committed. Our lives should be more than cautionary tales.

But I have to wonder if the same amount of compassion would be shown if the truck driver she hit was critically injured or killed. Or if she plowed into a family’s minivan and killed all the children inside.

Then she’d be a monster. Right?

This idea of how we define “good” and “bad,” especially when the person in question is deceased and cannot redeem or justify their actions, appeals to me because it’s the primary topic in my upcoming book. Where There’s Smoke is full of flawed characters who want to believe they are good. And they do try; but the ways they go about proving themselves make others scratch their heads at best, and feel betrayed at worst. It’s a story that asks: who are we really? Are we the sum of all our actions? Is the note we finish our lives on the most defining of them all?

There are no right or wrong ways to answer this question, and that’s what I love about it.

Same kind of Christian as me?

Some people are of the opinion that one needs to be a certain age or have a certain amount of “life experience” before they earn the right to write a memoir.

I’m 25 and wrote my first memoir at 22. I’m contemplating writing a second.

The only reason I’m considering this is because the kind of memoir I am interested in reading does not exist. At least not that I know of.

There are a plethora of memoirs out there about finding faith, losing it, and the grueling process of finding it again (see Addie Zierman’s When We Were on Fire, Elizabeth Esther’s Girl at the End of the World, and Rachel Held Evans’ Faith Unraveled for some awesome examples). But one thing these women have in common is their faith journey began in a church from early childhood. If you know me at all, you know that is not my life.

I want to read more books about people who chose Christianity after growing up in an environment that was staunchly against it.

I want to read more books about people who continue to choose Christianity despite the inevitable bumper-car effect of old cultural mores clashing with new ones; of old lingo that doesn’t jell with a new spiritual vocabulary; and the Pariah Syndrome that comes with being one of few people in your church with this particular background, which you are not ashamed of, but refuse to talk about because you are a person who desires to make friends, not some Show and Tell presentation.

If those books exist, I have yet to find them. It is my hope that if I were to write a book like this, it will bring other people with similar experiences out of the woodwork and into my favorite coffee shop to talk to me.

As of now, the people who share or at least relate to these experiences live in my laptop, not in my city. They can be found in organizations like Christians for Biblical Equality, but they live all over the world, not down the street.

The idea of “biblical equality” started with the idea that women can and should be able to lead people as male pastors do. But I want to take this definition further and expand it for people who worship differently than the “mainstream” Christian does: people who find standing during worship songs uncomfortable (and sometimes the lyrics tacky); people who feel squeamish when asked to pray out loud before a group; people who long for community but feel excluded because they aren’t extroverted or “outwardly spiritual” enough.

“Biblical equality” can mean that your worship is as valid and meaningful as my worship. I don’t see this idea expressed often enough.

I’m currently working on a piece that I hope to submit to a popular blogger as a guest post, so it won’t appear on my blog yet. But I hope to use it as a starting point for the maybe-memoir I might write. Because when it comes to improving community and making all members of the body of Christ feel welcome, there’s not enough paper in the world to discuss it.

Same kind of Christian as me?

Some people are of the opinion that one needs to be a certain age or have a certain amount of “life experience” before they earn the right to write a memoir.
I’m 25 and wrote my first memoir at 22. I’m contemplating writing a second.
The only reason I’m considering this is because the kind of memoir I am interested in reading does not exist. At least not that I know of.
There are a plethora of memoirs out there about finding faith, losing it, and the grueling process of finding it again (see Addie Zierman’s When We Were on Fire , Elizabeth Esther’s Girl at the End of the World , and Rachel Held Evans’ Faith Unraveled for some awesome examples). But one thing these women have in common is their faith journey began in a church from early childhood. If you know me at all, you know that is not my life.
I want to read more books about people who chose Christianity after growing up in an environment that was staunchly against it.
I want to read more books about people who continue to choose Christianity despite the inevitable bumper-car effect of old cultural mores clashing with new ones; of old lingo that doesn’t jell with a new spiritual vocabulary; and the Pariah Syndrome that comes with being one of few people in your church with this particular background, which you are not ashamed of, but refuse to talk about because you are a person who desires to make friends, not some Show and Tell presentation.
If those books exist, I have yet to find them. It is my hope that if I were to write a book like this, it will bring other people with similar experiences out of the woodwork and into my favorite coffee shop to talk to me.
As of now, the people who share or at least relate to these experiences live in my laptop, not in my city. They can be found in organizations like Christians for Biblical Equality, but they live all over the world, not down the street.
The idea of “biblical equality” started with the idea that women can and should be able to lead people as male pastors do. But I want to take this definition further and expand it for people who worship differently than the “mainstream” Christian does: people who find standing during worship songs uncomfortable (and sometimes the lyrics tacky); people who feel squeamish when asked to pray out loud before a group; people who long for community but feel excluded because they aren’t extroverted or “outwardly spiritual” enough.
“Biblical equality” can mean that your worship is as valid and meaningful as my worship. I don’t see this idea expressed often enough.
I’m currently working on a piece that I hope to submit to a popular blogger as a guest post, so it won’t appear on my blog yet. But I hope to use it as a starting point for the maybe-memoir I might write. Because when it comes to improving community and making all members of the body of Christ feel welcome, there’s not enough paper in the world to discuss it.

Drunk texting and the complexities of human nature

A thirty-two-year-old woman is killed while updating her Facebook status behind the wheel of a moving car, and the Internet is flooding with opinions.
Reactions span everywhere from “She deserves a Darwin award” to “How would YOU like your entire life to be judged based on one mistake?”
Talk about extremes. One could rationally argue that Facebooking while driving is more a deliberate choice than a “mistake,” but I can understand the sentiment behind it: no one wants to be remembered solely for the wrongs they committed. Our lives should be more than cautionary tales.
But I have to wonder if the same amount of compassion would be shown if the truck driver she hit was critically injured or killed. Or if she plowed into a family’s minivan and killed all the children inside.
Then she’d be a monster. Right?
This idea of how we define “good” and “bad,” especially when the person in question is deceased and cannot redeem or justify their actions, appeals to me because it’s the primary topic in my upcoming book. Where There’s Smokeis full of flawed characters who want to believe they are good. And they do try; but the ways they go about proving themselves make others scratch their heads at best, and feel betrayed at worst. It’s a story that asks: who are we really? Are we the sum of all our actions? Is the note we finish our lives on the most defining of them all?
There are no right or wrong ways to answer this question, and that’s what I love about it.

There's a fly in the soup; there is patriarchy in my religion

As the information under my picture suggests, I am a fan of people who devote their lives to unpopular causes. Perhaps I should add: even if I disagree with them.
I applaud actress Kirsten Dunst for speaking up about femininity and the definition of womanhood (even if I don’t entirely agree with how she defines these things):
I feel like the feminine has been a little undervalued. We all have to get our own jobs and make our own money, but staying at home, nurturing, being the mother, cooking—it's a valuable thing my mom created. And sometimes you need your knight in shining armor. I'm sorry. You need a man to be a man and a woman to be a woman. That's why relationships work.
I occasionally read PluggedIn movie reviews. It’s sponsored by Focus on the Family, but the reviews can be snarky and funny. I take issue with their response to Ms. Dunst’s words:
“[Dunst’s] viewpoint is increasingly challenged these days, and it's harder and harder to see the proper path forward while still holding tight to the past, to the traditions God Himself initiated.”
Read their full article here . Some of the comments are excellent.
My head is spinning as I try to remember where in the Bible it states that all women must be stay-at-home mothers and let their husbands be the sole breadwinners. I don’t even recall where it states that all women HAVE to become mothers. As a soon-to-be-married woman who doesn’t want kids (for now), it troubles me to think of the reactions I might face when I try shopping for a new church where my fiancé lives. Any attitude suggesting women have to be this or that is an automatic dealbreaker.
I cannot understand how it’s “unbiblical” for marriages to be treated as partnerships, where each couple makes decisions that are best for them and their families; why it’s considered unreasonable in many conservative circles for men to help out with chores and child-rearing; why a woman choosing to have a career is accused of neglecting her children. I went to daycare as a kid while my mom worked; I think I turned out okay. When my dad got sick and had to retire, mom took over financially. Do ultra-conservatives somehow believe they are above that possibility?
But no matter which path you choose, there is disdain to be met at every turn. The disdain for women who choose to be stay-at-home mothers is also backlash in the face of feminism. It has to stop.
I can’t deny that these attitudes have a direct impact on my faith and the way I relate to Jesus. Even though I firmly believe Jesus valued women (he saved the life of one about to be stoned for adultery, per Old Testament law, after all), if other Christians who claim to represent him cannot allow for equality in their definition of womanhood, then the result is simple: the church will have no women.
Respect, dignify, and above all, listen to individual women and their stories, or we leave the church. Engage with us in discussion and consider the impact of our leadership skills, or we leave the church. Maybe not all of us in droves, but this particular woman will pack her bags if things do not change.
I know this wouldn’t happen on a large enough scale to wake people up. Sadly, there are plenty of women perpetuating anti-feminist viewpoints, because they have never been taught what feminism is supposed to be: a radical notion that women are people; an idea that goes beyond politics, religious differences, and social status.
Ironically, I have met more women lately who actively promote patriarchy (like this woman who told me " We don't need feminism in America! "). They look at me like I’m holding a dead squirrel when I dare to admit I am a feminist. That, too, must stop. 

Always have to wear with a cross. Always.

When cynicism throws coffee in your face

While some days are worse than others, I’ve been stuck in an “I hate people” funk for over a year. I’ve had so many moments where I questioned my decision to stay in Colorado, because I left my closest friends in Cleveland. Not a large number of people, but a select few I know I can count on in dire circumstances. Tell secrets to. Look stupid in front of.
It’s been a slow process finding those people in Denver. Today, at my favorite coffee shop, someone I know from seminary waved at me from across the room like I was her best friend – someone who repeatedly told me, “Let’s get coffee!” but never responded to a single call or text about when to make that happen.
I hate people, I thought as I waved back.
The only table that happened to be available was tucked in a corner. Not my favorite spot, but an outlet and bathroom were nearby: two absolute necessities. I set up camp there, preparing to stay there for a few hours editing the first draft of my newest manuscript. With my laptop open and headphones in (even with no music playing) I’m pretty sure I had my DO NOT DISTURB ME vibes in full motion.
I typed furiously for about thirty minutes when I looked up, and saw someone I didn’t know (could have been my age, but I’m horrible at guessing people’s ages) saying something in my direction. Initially annoyed, I ripped out my headphones and said, “Yes?” as politely as I could muster.
“I’ve seen you here before,” she said. “I was wondering if maybe you wanted to join me and my friend at that table over there?”
She points to the table I always hope to get when I come here – but it was occupied when I arrived.
I weighed my options: how much editing will I get done if I’m sitting with two people who will expect me to make some kind of introduction about myself? But then again, how choosy can I afford to be when people are attempting to make friends with me?
Honestly? Not very.  It’s been easier to keep to myself to avoid disappointment and stick to my best “friends” that only exist in books. But something about this person’s face convinced me this was a chance I had to take.
Screw your paranoia, Sarahbeth. Go make some friends. So I packed up my stuff, and joined their table.
I did get some editing done: not as much as I would have liked, but the time lost on that project was made up for with riveting discussion about whether it’s polite to eavesdrop on conversations that are happening a mere few feet away from you, and if people have the right to be offended if you insert your own opinion, because there’s no such thing as an expectation of private conversation in crowded coffeehouses.
“Sometimes I can’t help but say something,” I told my new tablemates, *Susie and *Milton.  “Depends on the subject matter. If people are showing extreme ignorance then I feel like it’s an obligation. Because stupid can be contagious.”
And this, Sarahbeth, is why you don’t have a lot of friends. That kind of honesty gets you in trouble.
“That’s hilarious,” laughed Milton. Leaning toward Susie, he asked, “Where did you find this one?”
“Back in that corner,” Susie answered, smiling.
We didn’t leave exchanging numbers or Facebook usernames, but we did part with an expectation that “maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime.”
I have no idea if I’ll ever see those two again. But even if I don’t, it’s nice to be reminded every now and then that people are capable of surprising you.