Thoughts On Community

We slaughtered two pigs over the weekend on our small hobby farm in New England. Don’t worry, no further details about that.  

Our resident expert, veteran of 30+ pigs, ran the two-day operation. From procuring the proper tools to demonstrating the more technical tasks, our fearless leader took a group of newbies and made us an effective team.  

Our expert is a small, compact, and impressive woman who, at any given moment, had all the men around her, deferring to her, learning from her, and following her directions. Whether it was an anatomy lesson for interested kids, stepping back to let people clumsily practice new skills, or demonstrating a difficult cut, the depth of experience and wisdom she brought to the process made for a very successful day. 

This freezer was empty when we began…

The butchering process took us almost 12 hours. With seven adults and 10 children aged 2 to 11, we had a full house and still needed every helping hand we could get. 

Because I didn’t want to become intimately acquainted with butchering, I took on a support role. I managed the kids, including a potty-training toddler and big kids who dug to China when I had them dig holes for our new apple trees. The kitchen had to stay clean and accessible; bowls, soap, and water needed to be procured; towels and rags needed to be washed, and first aid had to be administered (three nips with knives, no maiming).  

Canned pastry lard

Then there was feeding the hordes breakfast and lunch, processing the leaf fat to make into pastry lard, vacuum sealing all of the cuts, and the clean up when we finally reached the end of the butchering.  

At the end of the day, we all collapsed, but there was pride in that exhaustion, in work done well, and a tangible accomplishment. That night I fell asleep so quickly I didn’t even put my phone on a charger.  

The work of any community is bookended by the twin roles of leading and supporting. It’s why the work of care is so integral, especially in partnership with leadership. We needed someone with knowledge and experience to tell us what to do. We needed someone with wisdom and experience to make sure the ship kept running. There is something powerful in both these roles being held by women.   

In our little local community, leading and supporting felt circular, equitable. We decided on our ad-hoc roles based on knowledge, expertise, and personal preference. The next time we all come together, maybe to build a fence or plant a garden, we’ll likely juggle our roles to fit the task, our expertise, and personal preferences. Just because I did the work of care this time around doesn’t mean that’s what I’ll do next time.  

I can’t help but compare my community experience outside the church to the community within the church, where gender roles are prescribed, hierarchy is top down, and rigid rules govern our practices.  

We can do hard work in the church, and I love my small local community of church people as individuals. But what we’re able to accomplish as a local ward is so much smaller, so much less than I think it could be. There are so many unmet needs, so many opportunities that go unrecognized, because our rigid hierarchy and gender roles constrain us. 

There is less joy, less pride in accomplishment, less meaning in performing work somehow in the church system. At church, I’m so worried about overstepping that I find myself paralyzed. I’m frustrated by that inertia. I’m never quite sure what sort of tangible outcomes come from all my church labor. I feel resentment in taking on the work of care in a community that prescribes a narrow role for women.  

At church, I feel like I must wait to be asked and then only do what I’ve been asked to do. To have an original idea, to want to contribute in a way I’m capable and motivated to contribute to my community, I’d have to get a bishopric member to hear me, see me, understand me, and approve of me. It’s exhausting to even contemplate. 

I’m so tired of feeling guilty, for feeling like I’ve stepped out of line, when I do attempt to contribute outside my narrowly prescribed calling. I’m tired of trying to fit in a box that’s too small. 

I would like to feel at church like I did over our butchering weekend; that what I contribute matters and that I have the agency to find the right role rather than the prescribed role. 

What would our organizations look like without top-down hierarchical practices? What would our organizations be able to accomplish if we could volunteer rather than wait to be called?  

The possibilities seem limitless. The opportunities to serve and be served multiplied. And I hope I would fall into my bed asleep so quickly that I would forget to charge my phone.  

Photo by Elaine Casap on Unsplash