I am not now, nor will ever be, a member of the pre-pregnant party.

The Apostate on pregnancy, abortion rights, and bodily control.

I agree. One hundred percent. You should see me freak out when I think too much about the shard of wood embedded in my leg -- the drugs I would have to be on to carry a pregnancy to terms would probably result in a miscarriage anyway. Reproductive control is psychologically important.

And read down in the comments, it's also true that women are simply expected to hand over control of our bodies far more frequently than men, and with no fuss. If a man avoids doctors, the response is a shrug -- boys will be boys. If a woman avoids doctors like the plague and maintains an extreme distrust of medicine -- we're categorized as being irresponsible. Probably because for a good chunk of our lives we're categorized as "pre-pregnant."

As usual, Fox News Should Be Ashamed

The story is that Mary Winkler has been awarded full custody of her daughters, who will continue to have visits with their paternal grandparents.

Unfortunately, the media vilification of Ms. Winkler continues with Fox News in the lead. Their headline for the balanced AP article: "Killer Mom Gets Kids" with a blurb that only identifies Matthew Winkler as a preacher and Mary Winkler as the convicted killer. (The screencap below is of Fox's home page, which I frankly don't care to link to.





I've previously ranted about similar treatment of Ms. Winkler by the Memphis Commercial Appeal and CNN, but that biased coverage pales in comparison to this travesty of journalism.

Fair and balanced, Fox News? Yeah. Better word is hypocritical.

h/t to Fran

Yay, Kiera Knightley!

Kiera Knightley is insisting that her breasts not be digitally enhanced in the publicity for her upcoming movie. What a novel concept!

WTF?

Don't ask how my internet browsing ended up at beinggirl.com. But, eww! Shouldn't there be some sort of public outrage over this garbage being handed to girls?

"Shaving is a part of growing up. It's ladylike and fun so EMBRACE it."

Is bad grammar ladylike as well? That one I may have in spades. (Yes, the comma in the quote is also missing on the website.)

And just ugh! Not that I feel the need to be embraced as ladylike with my gloriously hairy legs, but . . . how on earth did this myth that women shaving their legs is somehow natural and innate become so f'ing pervasive? Oh, yeah, marketing. Like this crap!

Shaving one's legs is not a part of growing up. It is a part of a particular ideal of feminine beauty that one should feel free to participate in or reject.

As my sister -- who does shave -- says: They're your legs!

Do Conservatives Need Safe Spaces?

Yes, it's a joke. (Has momentary daydream of a guerrilla movement, then simultaneously reminds herself that she's ideologically a pacifist and looks forward to the arrival of Les Guerilleres.)

Angry id -- back in the closet! Angry not-id -- front and center!

Wait! What? Would someone please tell me when the last time a conservative was assaulted or murdered for being a conservative? When was the last time someone was harassed to the point of committing suicide because he was a conservative?

However, the anti V-day campaign doesn't seem to be a joke. I'm not the biggest proponent of the Vagina Monologues that you'll ever meet. I'm too inclined to wanting to completely dissolve the coherence of the categories of man and woman. There are several monologues in the play that I don't personally identify with, and at least one that actually makes me feel queasy. If someone asked me what my vagina would wear, I would likely look at them askance, explain the difficulties of designing clothing for vaginas, and finish up with murmuring something about how weirded out I am by female condoms (note: I'm no more opposed to female condoms than I am to tampons, but both weird me out for reasons unknown to my conscious mind). And I'm not head over heels in love with the treatment of gender in the play. I'm extremely sad that this year's performance at Rhodes was not inclusive of transwomen (it has been at least once in the past.)

However, I heartily support the main idea -- THERE IS NOTHING SHAMEFUL ABOUT BEING EMBODIED WITH A VAGINA. Oh, and you get to decide upon the meaning and value of that vagina and the rest of your body for yourself.

Madness, ain't it? It could even be hysterical! But least I be told that I am missing something -- here's a closer analysis of the brochure, The Vagina Monologues: Exposed!

Violence against Cupid?

In their effort to redefine a day meant to celebrate love and romance, Ensler and her “Vagina Warriors” proclaimed Valentine’s Day as “V-Day” until the violence against women stops, and then it will become “Victory Day” (Ensler 173). So long, Cupid. (page 13)

OMG! They killed Cupid! Because it's so terribly empowering to have bad chocolates (or maybe good chocolates) showered upon one. Terribly empowering to have a day dedicated to social pressure to mate and then reproduce. Actually, I'm detecting a capitalist/consumerist concern here. We have to have this excuse to consume, consume, consume -- and yes, it's just a subtext but I do believe that it's here.

Do the Vagina Monologues Objectify Women?

It perpetuates the very attitude that often leads to sexual violence: treating women as objects. (page 24)

Dear person writing this brochure -- are you familiar with the use of subject and object? Defining myself, defining the meaning of my own body rather than letting society dictate that meaning to me is being a subject. Do the Monologues threaten at times to create a new hegemonic "we" of women's experience? In some ways -- yes -- but the format of the play -- a diverse collection of voices, offering a multiplicity of ways of relating to vaginas -- is itself in tension with that possibility. The Vagina Monologues are about allowing women to be the subjects of their own sexuality. It's when the meaning of vagina possession is imposed from without that we have objectification.

But in reality, that's the problem that this organization has with the Monologues -- it's a bunch of women defining their own sexuality, and god knows, god's agin' that! Really, while the difference in age between the participants in "The Little Coochie Snoocher that Could" is waved a banner for why the Monologues are evil -- the real problem seems to be with the idea that women can be sexually fulfilled without men. Separate from the more legitimate critique of the age difference we get this gem:

The girl also reveals her seducer’s ultimate lesson. “She tells me to always know how to give myself pleasure so I’ll never need to rely on a man” (Ensler 82).
(page 11)

Given that this is used as punctuation for that segment, it seems that the composer of this brochure is more concerned that women might not be relying on men more of a problem than a possibly exploitative situation. The professed concern for the sixteen year old girl is just a smokescreen. Of course, conservatives do tend to let their anxieties about maintaining the normalcy of man-on-top-woman-on-bottom sexuality override any concern for the exploitation of women's bodies (please, see anti-gay interpretations of Sodom and Gomorrah).

Oh, and in case anyone was wondering -- it appears that any expression of sexuality other than penis in vagina is perverted. Including Bob's love of looking at vaginas.

(Found the actual organization via Feministing. Encountered the logic in a editorial in the student paper at my college last year, was hoping against hope that it was an independent operative.)

This is what a Post-Feminist looks like

I think I'm disillusioned with feminism.

No, not in that way. Patriarchy is bad. Sledge hammers should be taken to it with gusto, preferably on a frequent basis. Castrate the idols, already!

Here's the sit.

I'm currently in a redux of Feminist Theology. Which means I'm reading roughly the same texts as I was two years ago when the class had a different number and was taught by a different professor. In some cases, the texts are just as delightful the second time around as they were the first. (Ada Maria Isasai-Diaz's Mujerista Theology remains highly recommended.) But coming back to intro-level Feminist discussions after having read Judith Butler is somewhat painful. (We're talking very intro-level here. Rhodents can apparently make it to their junior or senior year, not know the first thing about feminism, and be "concerned" about taking a feminist theology class.)

For instance, during a class discussion of creating feminist religious rituals to embrace womanhood and womanliness, I was sitting in the back corner of the room (in a gray vest and a matching gray fedora of gloriousness!) twitching a bit, and wanting to throw out the question -- does it really do any good to create feminist rituals, if the only thing you are accomplishing is reinforcing the boundaries between the constructed categories of gender? Couldn't this just be adding to the problem and continuing to force individuals into categories that are not based in their experience and so not adequately describe them? Does this lead to liberation?

I did not do this. I felt it would be rude (this was a student led discussion). Also, it would have been completely unproductive. I might have managed to engage three people out of the class of 25 or so. The rest would have been staring at me, thinking, "constructed categories of gender, buh?"

See, I wouldn't mind reading texts that I find to be outdated and essentialize the idea of some essential (non-biological) difference between the sexes, if I felt I could actually pull off getting a discussion going about possible critiques and so on and so forth. But I'm in a class that may very well suggest that Womanist and Mujerista theologies are excluding (silencing might even make an appearance, who knows?) white women. I mean, the class did decide that a feminist rereading of Genesis 2-3 was too anti-male in tone. (The exegete, Phyllis Trible, was using narrative theory and analyzing the characterization of Adam and Eve. She argued that the narrative presents Eve as far more curious than Adam, who's far more passive in the text. At no point did she suggest that this was a reflection on the male portion of the population -- her point was that traditional readings have not paid attention to the actual narrative, because they were too busy reading in the patriarchy.)

Murr.

So, I have both an example of why feminism remains a necessary movement, and an example of why I may well be post feminist at this point.

Or not.

Darned categories. If I had a hammer, I'd smash the categories. And then the patriarchy would fall into the abyss.

Castrate the Government Already!

Via my favorite looney bin of the interwebs -- an article linking the growth of government to women's suffrage.

Let's seen. Apparently, women desire a bigger goverment. No doubt this stems from our inherent penis envy.

"The gender gap exists on various issues. The major one is the issue of smaller
government and lower taxes, which is a much higher priority for men than for
women."

Oh, that gender gap, and those gender roles. And according to these nutjob, I guess I'm back to being a very, very bad woman. What with my tendencies toward libertarianism and all that. Yes, give me small government! Please. One that doesn't spend my money on pointless wars, tell me who I can and can't love, can and can't worship, etc.

"Women's average incomes are also slightly lower and less likely to vary over
time, which gives single women an incentive to prefer more progressive income
taxes. Once women become married, however, they bear a greater share of taxes
through their husbands' relatively higher income. In that circumstance, women's
support for high taxes understandably declines."

Wait. Aren't we missing the root cause of the problem here? If we fix/get rid of/revolutionize the sexist system that discriminates against women, and suddenly women weren't stuck in the lower reaches of the economic food chain, and their salaries were actually equal to those of men, according to this fellow's logic, that should also result in less support among women for a progressive tax system. (Although, this one will still consider progressive tax systems far less of an evil than regressive taxes, because that's a matter of moral principle. Maybe a flat tax? Not an economist here.) Destroy sexism -- pay less in taxes! There's a new slogan for you!

Kill the Radio

When I first started spending the majority of my time in Memphis, I declared that Memphis had far better radio stations than Nashville. (I don't listen to most country of my own free will.) I don't know if that still true or not, as radio stations do have a tendency to change. But it was true about 3 years ago when 93X actually did play pretty good mix of rock, older, newer, very new. And maybe the D.J.'s were just as bad then -- my feminist consciousness is a work in progress.

I haven't listened to the radio in a number of months. My first forswearing of the radio was two summers ago when that terrible "Hate Me" song -- I think Blue October was the group -- was getting played at least once an hour. It's not that I dislike all music that qualifies as whiny -- I think I was tossing in Depeche Mode's Ultra to replace the radio -- but could we have a little art with whiny? Or at least striking sounds? Subtlety? And if I can't have subtlety, I insist on drums.

Like much misguided popularity, the song faded, I needed a change from my CD collection, and I flipped back on the radio this summer during my treks from Rhodent land to UofM.

And they were running some "girls of summer," super-sexist, derogatory, demeaning, crass contest to get hot pictures of "babes" on their website. Oh, without -- as far as I could tell -- any real effort to ensure that the pictures were posted with the models contest. So, the commercials for that were making me a bit testy, and I killed the radio and rotated back through Soundgarden, Depeche Mode, and the Dresden Dolls.

Last night, I flipped on the radio. Yes, 93X. Mistake. It was 9:50 or so, whenever they play a local band. And, I promptly remembered why I gave up the radio in the first place. First, the opening clip was something about local rock and "all the skanks that go with it." Uhuh . . . nice, great, that's right. Let's make sure to preserve the connection between rock and roll and misogyny. Then they played a local artist who happens to be female. Hey, that's kind of cool -- not too many women making it big in rock. Granted, she won't be making it big in rock, but it would have been fun music at a club. And then, the D.J. started talking about how cool it was to get an album from a girl rocker and encouraging other women local groups or solo artist to send in their music. I begin to think -- hey, he could just temporarily redeem his little self!

Nope, soon enough he had wrapped back around to how hot girl rockers are and they're prettier to look at that guys in rock and some other nonsense. Because, first and foremost, you had better be sexy if you are a chick looking to get into rock and roll.

Murr . . . need feminist D.J.'s. I can take a certain level of sexism and misogyny in my music -- particularly classic rock. But overt sexism in the chatter -- not so much.

Off to see if there are other rock stations in Memphis that might leave me feeling less murderous.

Wake Up! Time for the sex talk!

First comment, Whithorne Middle School has real DJs at their dances?! Us kids at the unloved stepchild of the Maury County School system had to make do with having the Student Council and friends haul in what CDs we had, and dragging Cousin Eric's speakers and player down the hill to the school. A real DJ? At 300 dollars a pop? That's . . . there have to be better uses for that money -- get creative!

Yes, I know that I'm overlooking the fact that Hampshire has somewhat older kids, somewhat better equipped to collectively disc jockey a school dance than a middle school does. But I'm all for unit schools anyway.

Okay, so, what's the occasion? Apparently, some parents were offended by lyrics they overheard while waiting to pick their kids up from the dance and with the normal wisdom shown by the powers that be in Maury County, the director of schools is contemplating suspending dances at middle schools.

Yeah, so, I might be wrong, but I think the song in question "Get Low" is kinda passe. I believe I remember it from my high school days . . . and four years does seem to make all the difference as to what's cool in the musical tastes of pre-adolescents. Seriously, you hadn't already heard this song enough to be offended by it? I'm not questioning whether the song is offensive or in bad taste -- the lyrics make my feminist skin crawl. And, actually, I'm not the most sensitive flower in the field. There would literally be no way to edit these lyrics. Of course, you also can hardly understand them -- with the exception of "My BALLS" being yelled at points, which is probably where the offense was taken.

But, no one remains innocent forever, and while the school should have guidelines for the music played at school-sponsored dances, you can't escape "Get Low" -- believe me, I tried for most of my junior and senior years of high school.

But then what offends me about the song was probably not the parental objections. The Herald article doesn't mention people being offended by misogyny and the abject objectification of the female body. Just offense at mention of genitalia and explicitives. So, they'd probably also object to The Dresden Dolls, without distinguishes between the two. (No, I wouldn't play most of the Dresden Dolls' catalog at a middle school dance, in part because they wouldn't get it.)

The sad thing is that songs like this, Cosmogirl, television shows, and misinformation on the school bus is roughly all the sex education the kids of Maury County are getting. So, not only are they not innocent -- they have nothing with which to balance the pop culture. And the solution, dear parents and school board of Maury County -- is not to suspend school dances because of an inappropriate song, the solution is to get some real sex education. Something to counter the prevalent mythology. To teach respect in sexual situations, both for your own self and for whoever else is involved. Maybe some basic knowledge of how things work -- because I, being known as the smart kid, was once asked on the bus if you could get pregnant if you were taking birth control pills and using a condom. I was in middle school at the time! The girl asking me was, I think, a junior! Something isn't quite right with this scenario. And, this scenario is far more harmful (and objectionable) than an inappropriate song being played at a school dance.

But why would anyone think of doing a silly thing like that. Nope, no, let's bury our heads in the sand.

Am I a Christian? Part 3

“Let righteous anger ripen in you,

Prepare your hands for the work to come . . .

or if you cannot – then let boredom

and grief gather and burn in you . . .

but, without more ado, wipe off

the greasepaint mask of this sham life,

and like the timid mole dig down

from light into the earth – lie prone

and still, hating life fiercely,

despising all the world and – though

you cannot see the future clearly –

saying to the present: NO.”

Aleksandr Blok, from “Yes. This is the Call of Inspiration.” trans. Stallworthy and France

(Also. Happy Birthday, Aleksandr Blok. I would go drink at your grave -- but its in the middle of an industrial area, and I don't quite feel like dying.)

I’ve come to a recognition while wandering through various places in Russia. I want to be a monk. Not a nun. Not a bride of Christ. A monk. A holy fool. On the edge of society and the edge of reason. A Lover of God.

Ever since I was little, I’ve wanted to serve communion, to lead singing, and to preach. The CofC pays lip service to the protestant idea of a priesthood of all believers. In theory, any Christian can bless the Eucharist. In theory, any Christian can serve communion. In theory, any Christian can fulfill the functions of a priest. In general practice, this means a priesthood of all male-bodied believers.

I read once that Saint Therese, the Little Flower, commented once that it was a blessing that she died young, that God allowed her to die in the year she would have been ordained as a priest if she were a man, so that she wouldn’t suffer. If I were a man, I would be a priest.

But I’m not a man. And I’m so bitter now that I’m the person laughing madly in corner, sneering to hide the fact that I’m waiting for the next blow to fall. I’m much too young for this.

Sure, yes, I see the verses stating that the man is the head of the woman. But I’m not a very good woman, and perhaps not even a woman, depending upon how you want to construct the term. And, what about Mary Magdalene? What about Galatians? Why would the Bible tell me in one place that it’s best to remain unmarried, and then later say that if I want to know anything, I have to ask my husband at home?

But we don’t have ordination. And they start training the boys for the ministry as soon as they can hold a Bible in their hands and read. And maybe it shouldn’t have felt like this, but every service where my male peers or even boys hardly old enough to read served the Eucharist, or led the singing, or read from the Bible, or stammered his way through a short sermon, it was another punch, another hit. It didn’t matter that I was as smart as, as talented as, worked as hard as any of those boys. It didn’t matter that when it came done to it, I was a better speaker than the majority of the guys. I was barred for the pulpit. I was exiled to the girls, who giggled together, and thought I was very odd because I didn’t have a crush on any of the boys. A stranger in a strange land. Caught in between two worlds, and in both I’m considered to be a bit “queer.”

Can I be a Christian when the majority of my experience has taught me that there is no place for me in the Body of Christ? No place for the tomboy.

And no, it doesn’t matter than there are many denominations where I would be welcome. I’ve been attacked by too many people bearing the name Christian. Can the goat driven out to the desert ever easily trust another human?

Breaking from Religions to Discuss Sexy Soviet Nudes

I went to the Russian Museum last Saturday. First things first, should you ever find yourself in Petersburg, set aside a day and go to the Russian Museum. Just do it. Maybe even two days, it’s a bit overwhelming – particularly if one is from an art-poor backwater (I love you Memphis, but...)

So, after salivating over the portion of the icon collection that is on display, the less interesting portraits of dead tsars and Russian nobility, and the absolutely amazing late 19^th/early 20^th art, I walked through the two temporary displays up at the Russian Museum.

One titled the Soviet Venus, the other a collection of nude works by a Soviet painter whose name I have forgotten. The latter was a rather banal collection of nude females, several of which were allegories for “exotic” countries such as Turkey and India. Yeah...okay, I wasn’t impressed.

The Soviet Venus exhibit had a little more meat for gnawing on. It was a bit of an awkward experience, in part because a very decent percentage of Saint Petersburg was there to see it, and the gallery it was crammed into had very little space to begin with. Then there was the factor that I couldn’t quite decide whether I was looking at Soviet art or Soviet soft porn.

Female athletes losing their clothing while competing – while a young man with a gleeful smile looks on. Bit of an awkward ideology there. The piece doesn’t just assume an audience, but actually supplies the prototype of the ideal audience. Also, not exactly a good piece of art to begin with, but I’m not a fan of Soviet Realism to begin with. I preferred the female machinists in varying degrees of jumpsuitedness, but that could just be me.

Oddly enough, I found that the best art pieces in the exhibit were the ones that were furthest into the boundary zone between art and pornography. There were two photographs from a series titled Romance with the Theater. They were beautifully composed and dramatically lit, with a great sense of tension and plot even. The two figures were a young, artsy, fully clothed young man, and a completely naked woman, depicted as tied up in one of the photos. It was certainly art. Sex was an element. And, yeah, I was slightly disturbed by the photos, but disturbed in same way I would be by a good Chuck Palahniuk novel or David Foster Wallace.

The setting might have had something to do with my indecision. The good photos were surrounded by bland, disembodied breasts, and the like – no where nearly as compelling. Philosophically, I don’t know why allegorical figures are almost always nude females, but at least this one was intriguing rather than the “exotic nations” in the other exhibit.

I’m still processing.

However, it seems that classic art does teach that all heroic acts should be performed in the nude.

I saw a Baptist Church of Christ in NYC...

So, the Church of Christ discussion boards I've been following have dissolved into utter chaos. I feel kinda bad for the several very thoughtful people who were trying to get actual discussions/debates going. I actually deleted my membership a week or two ago, because I decided I was getting nowhere very fast, and didn't feel up for another round of defending myself against accusations that I have never read the Bible. I nearly replied with something along the lines of "I've been spiritually beaten black and blue with the Bible, and placed in the top ten of regional Bible Bowl competitions six years in a row, I happen to know my stuff, thank you very much." Instead, I explained that it was somewhat difficult to analyze the usage of a single euphemism in two different narratives without actually reading said narratives a time or two, and later that I thought ad hominem attacks were cheap. Granted, I'm still watching from the sidelines, but I'm just not in the mood to play. But all of that is beside the point, and just more ramblings in the category of Metra likes to poke bugs with sticks.

Several people have expressed concerns that there's too much focus on intra-church practice and not enough on what the church can do in the world. A new topic was started explaining the poster's frustration with the emphasis on correct theology and asking people to respond with what God has done lately in their lives. I thought about rejoining to say something like: God smacked me upside the head and said, "These nutters don't speak for me -- I'm bigger than you or they will ever comprehend." Then, I decided that wouldn't be a productive use of my time, and I was better off reflecting on why theology matters.

Now, I don't think having 100% correct theology saves a person, or is even possible. I have a sort of Animal Farm outlook on theology (and philosophy): All theologies are wrong, but some are more wrong than others. And of course, my standards by which I evaluate theologies are subjective, but one has to work from somewhere. I'm interested in not reducing the Divine into a book and not excluding persons because they don't fit into some mold or another.

My grandfather is always telling me that I just have to be patient and let things change over time. I can't expect the CofC start letting women preach overnight. But, preaching isn't the real issue -- preaching is only symbolic. What is actually at stake is personhood. Not having the pulpit does relatively little damage to me in and of itself -- the accompanying message that I was defective because of something entirely out of my control -- my sex -- was incredibly damaging, even with the mitigating circumstances of a spinster great-aunt who was convinced that there was nothing a man could do that a woman in sensible shoes couldn't manage and a father who commented that maybe one day we'll go to a church were they let women lead songs (the actual incident was song-leading, not preaching). No, no, I was a impure, dirty, weaker vessel, who could not be suffered to speak -- and all the more dirty because I let it be known that I thought something was wrong with that idea. So, yes, the praxis in the mainstream CofC and a number of other forms of Christianity (and other religions) of restricting the ability of female-bodied individuals from fully participating within the life of the community is wrong. The theology behind it is worse and dehumanizing. Maybe not the most dehumanizing ever -- but it is an affront to personhood of roughly fifty percent of humans. Especially among groups claiming a "priesthood of all believers."

However, theoretically (and I'm quite sure in practice, as well) a church could practice good works while restricting women to the most marginal of roles within the community. And, it could be argued that the nutters like me demanding that we have the right to full participation distracts the church and it's resources from carrying out certain good works. Or that we are somehow causing discord where they should be unity. But if a church's mission is unity in Christ, how can they claim any sort of unity when persons are excluded based on genitalia or sexual preference or listening to music.

See the point is not that women can't preach, and the point is not that many churches won't marry same-sex couples; however, the point is that these practices reveal that the many churches have placed themselves in the business of determining who is and is not a full person and thus eligible for all the rights and responsibilities of membership within the community.

I'm not sure if any of that made any sense at all.

Silence and All Submission

Inspired by Renegade Evolution's question: "Does ones documentation of their lives, experiences, and mistreatment at the hands of others lead to silencing?" But deviating more or less substantially, because I was pleasantly tipsy whilst composing this.

I think I've mentioned I've only had one formal "women's studies" class before. And that some of the readings/discussions made me feel like clawing my eyes out. The lockstep, "you will believe this or you aren't one of us" vibe wasn't ringing true in Metra's ear. The tone of "how dare you think something different, that makes you a threat, and quite possibly a helper in the oppression, especially if you claim we are ignoring/inadvertently damaging you" -- yeah, I wasn't buying. Anyone who thinks that simply because a person disagrees with one, that person is attempting (or somehow magically managing) to silence one -- BS! (By the way, I think the same thing about the Creationists whining that they are being censored by the academic community.)

Not that there isn't such a thing as being silenced. It happens frequently. But it seems to me at least, that to be silenced requires that who have considerably more physical or perhaps social force directed against one.

I don't know fully what it means to be silenced because I was born into a family of oddballs who just live in the marginal of 'Shire society and do their own thing and have been doing so for more than a hundred years. So while I learned that the church would treat me differently from the boys and not let me led songs or speak, I was also reassured by virtually everyone within my family that while the Cathey's Creek CofC elders might think that, it wasn't actually true -- just play along and then think what you want to think anyway. And, I spent much/most of my formative years with my spinster great aunt who was known for wearing pants to church and removing snakes that had crawled into the building when the menfolk were too scared or too slow to do it, so maybe I didn't even have to play along all that much. But I am still trying to explain to my family that there are massive differences between the experience my father (who remained within the CofC) had and the experience I have. The most salient one -- he was actually permitted formal and public speech. And when one congregation stripped him of that right, he could in fact find another congregation that continued to recognize that. Conversely, I was forbidden to speak (or really act independently) in the public forum of worship even after I had well passed the age at which my male peers were invited (or in some cases dragged) into it. And, I bet that there are a number of people who would justifiably laugh out loud at my declaration of knowing something about being silenced. Because this is a silencing extremely limited in scope.

But, because the scope was limited, I know the difference being being forbidden to speak and being allowed to speak but vehemently disagreed with. I had a few forums in the old CofC. Limited, yes, but I loved the preacher at the congregation we were at (and actually, the youth minister too) because I knew that I could speak with them in private and they would both take me seriously. They might not understand, and they probably wouldn't agree, but both would have allowed me to have my opinion. I could and would speak in some of the classes (they ain't worship after all). This, actually, was why I was ostracized by the my peers, accused of not having a heart, and interrogated on my sexuality at the tender age of fourteen (which considering I still don't really have one thanks to year upon years of repression, makes me giggle). Oh, and that whole, going to hell/oh, you'll just grow out of this thing. But the fact is, none of that was silencing even though the goal was to persuade me to change my mind or at the very least, to stop raising cain. Yes, it was discouraging but not silencing.

Silencing was the fact that I was forbidden to speak at any official service. Silencing was the fact that I suspect that if I have ever gathered up the courage to stand up in the middle of a service and explain why I was firmly convinced that points x, y, and z were very wrong, I would have from my little self escorted out by several burly deacons. In that forum, I was -- in fact -- coerced into silence. The threat of being physically prevented from speaking was there. I would be silent, and I would submit, or else I would be made to do so. And to tell the truth -- compared to the much greater forces exerted around the world on numerous people to keep their mouths shut -- that is such a watered down form of coercion that it is like unto nothing. No one would have broken my jaw or tried to kill me, and I could walk away.

While the other tactics used to instill or create cooperation amongst the youth or females (peer pressure, discounting opinions, the threat of going to hell for eternity, God's supposed phallus) were attempts to minimize disagreement/free thought, they were something very different. None of those had the power, ultimately, to prevent me from speaking. Even being accused of being an evil influence on my sister and being responsible for her not being saved isn't silencing. Annoying as everything, but the only way those tactics could actually shut me up was if I allowed them to get under my skin. And then the people who would listen to what my opinion was and then reply with the reasons why they thought differently -- well, I've never had a problem with them. Some disagreeing with my speech does nothing to silence me or even encourage silence on my part.

The badly made point is, it takes a heck of a lot more than someone disagreeing with your opinions or your actions -- or even outright mocking what you have said or done as sheer foolishness, stupidity, or bigotry -- before you have actually been silenced. A gun to the head, the possibility of being taken down physically, the threat of stoning, deprivation of liberty, physical violence, starvation in the streets, being thrown out of your community into the desert -- these can all legitimately be called silencing. Just being told you're a flaming idiot, whether rightly or wrongly, or that you have mistreated others -- nope, that is not being silenced.

Birth Control, Abortion, Conscience, Those Sticky Subjects...

News article via Butterfly Cauldron. And her post on it is highly recommended reading.

I'm no longer surprised when I hear of women being denied access to birth control, particularly emergency contraception, because a doctor or pharmacist is morally opposed to it. The lack of surprise hasn't stopped me from experiencing a renewed surge of moral outrage with each new case.

First and foremost, my rage is directed at the nutters who have equated EC with the abortion pill. These are not the same drugs and do not affect women's bodies (or potential/established pregnancies) in the same way. EC works in the same way as the Pill, the hormones prevent a fertilized egg from implanting in the uterine wall. It will not cause an already implanted embryo to abort. But some talking head somewhere, it's probably Bill O'Reilly and Concerned Women for America has decided that EC is the equivalent of a medical abortion. Frankly, as sources of information, I think both of these are the pits, but apparently many people don't.

Second, I do have something of a problem with the way conscience clauses work out. Why would you knowingly go into a field where you know that you're opposed to standard practices? It would be quite similar to a confirmed small picture pacifist such as myself entering the military. And, while we're on the subject of the military, why in the name of all that is good and holy should doctors and pharmacists -- maybe ones who changed their "worldview" (that's the current catchphrase is evangelical land isn't it?) mid-through med school -- have a better conscientious objector system than folks in the military? The conscientious objector laws the United States currently has is rotten to core and allows little to no freedom of conscience. Or let's try something else, I could also decide to be a missionary on, oh let's say, the Southern Baptist ticket (when pig's fly, my pretties), would it be in anyway logical for me to go into the mission field knowing that I morally and ethically opposed to a huge, huge number of SBC teachings and practices? Or if, I made it to India and realized that I was really more called to Shiva or Kali that I continue working in the SBC mission field? No, it wouldn't. So, why would someone who is morally opposed to any kind of contraception go into gynecology where prescribing contraception is a standard practice?

Or at the very least, physicians should be required, as Butterfly Cauldron suggests, to inform potential patients upfront that they are morally opposed to contraception.

And to be frank, I don't fully understand the equivocation of potential life with an existing life. Further, I don't buy into claims that the Bible clearly states that anywhere. Last time I was reading, the penalty in the Levitical Code for causing a woman to miscarry was not the same as the penalty for murdering a person. This will get me into trouble, but God also never seemed to be above engaging in infanticide himself when he wanted to make a point. And, I don't think that there's anything in the New Testament regarding abortion and birth control at all. So, while people may indeed be convinced that contraception and abortion are morally wrong, that belief is based in something other than the Bible alone. You can believe in good faith that life begins when sperm meets egg just as much as you can believe anything else in good faith. But unfortunately, belief does not equal fact. The exact point at which life/personhood begins is unknown, unknowable, and we can't go around making laws that hurt women -- definitely established persons, right? right? maybe? -- based on a hunch that doesn't have much in the way of objective backing. Unless, of course, women aren't really persons which is indeed a belief espoused by some within this country.

Of course, the double standard here becomes clear when lesbians and single women are denied fertility treatments or even a routine physical exam prior to adopting a child. No, no, all potential lives are not precious and equal -- not when the persons who want to create a new life don't meet some arbitrary standard of who should be raising a potential life.

Hey and I'm even someone who's relatively disgusted by the number of abortions in this country. Of course, I'm disgusted because if we got some decent sex-ed for young persons some that they really knew what their options were and how to obtain and use said options, the increased ability to get ahold of those options, and the self-confidence to insist on what's right for them, there would be a heck of a lot less abortions. And yeah, abstinence is one of those options and young persons should feel empowered to insist on their right to remain abstinent if they so desire. Just like I feel empowered to insist on contraception should I ever need it (Why, yes. This post is being written by one person virgin enough to make St. Jerome shed happy tears and write creepy letters!) So let's abolish that absolute crap known as abstinence only sex ed, and maybe do something really radical like make regular old birth control available over the counter. (I can do a lot more damage to my body with Ibuprofen and actually probably have already.) And, further, the ability to prevent a pregnancy if I choose to have sex with a guy and the condom breaks or under any other circumstances gives me a heck of a lot more choice and autonomy over my body than an abortion does.

After all, I am a control freak.

The Cult of True Feminism

I've only had one formal class that would fall into the category of women's studies. My college offers a minor in it, but it's one I haven't bothered to get into. And my one "women's studies" class -- Feminist Theology. (Taught by an incredible professor who's now at Vandy.) Now, this wasn't a conversion experience for me. I had already moved through my initial childhood recognition that girls were treated differently from boys, through a pathetic teenage period of resentful resignation, developing into an angry young "why yes, I am a feminist, and you need to hear that word more often" type at the end of high school. But I was a self-taught feminist, and I basically still am. So my first encounter with formal feminism was, shall we say, interesting.

The first text we read was Mary Daly's Beyond God the Father. In many respects I see why it's an important book -- someone had to point out that "if god is male, then male is god." However, I personally felt that the trying to read Daly was like chewing on broken glass, and I'm very hesitant to say that just because having God as Father as the ONLY image of God is detrimental, that there is anything ontologically wrong with the image of God as Father -- it just should not be the exclusive image.

And then there was the issue of experience. It just didn't fit. Not because I had managed to sidestep the patriarchy. I most haven't. But I did miss the patriarchy specific to upper-middle class white America. Lower-middle, working class rural white America patriarchy is different enough, throw in that I was constantly moving back and forth between the patriarchy of fundamentalist Christianity and a family where, oddly enough, women are less restricted in terms of what they can do than are the men due the family patriarchy. (Thank you, Great-Aunts!) So yeah, things just didn't fit. (And often I felt like grabbing one especially talkative and WASPy chick, shaking her, and screaming -- you do not speak for me!) Then we read Ada-Marie Isasai-Diaz's Mujerista Theology, and I was a much happier little thing. Even happier when we got to Sallie McFague -- I likes the high theology. Finally, the course led around to Kwok Pui-lan and Postcolonial Theology, and I liked that even more. (There was a method to the Prof's starting us out on Daly. Chewing glass does help one cut teeth quickly, I suppose.)

At first though, it seemed to me that the Cult of True Womanhood had only been replaced by a Cult of True Feminism. Some ideal-type was in the works dictating what you were supposed to believe, how you were supposed to think, and even what type of experiences you were supposed to have under your belt. And if you didn't live up to that ideal-type, too bad, you just weren't enough of a feminist.

I discovered the Feminist Blogosphere a few months later. I found it fascinating. So many different opinions -- not even necessarily ones I agreed with all the time, but one's that certainly made me think which is why I read. And, I've somehow always managed to miss the central battles of the Feminist Blog wars -- probably because I'm not too faithful about reading comments, but it does seem to be a case from the periphery that some Cult of True Feminism is at work in some sectors deciding who is and who isn't enough of a feminist. And my response to that is the same thing I thought back in class: well, that's silly now, isn't it?

An Unfortunately Visible Monster

I'm feeling pretty guilty about the amount of driving that I'm doing this summer, but their isn't much to be done about it. At least until the summer classes I'm taking are over, then I'll work on walking to the grocery. Right now, I just don't have time for round trips of at least an hour a half there and back -- according to Google maps it's about a 2 mile walk -- very doable and not an unpleasant walk thanks to tree growth in Midtown, but you need more time than I have between class and work.

My pathetic attempt at relieving guilt is this. I have forsworn the AC in my car, and I am driving around Memphis with the windows down. Yes, I will get every last mile out of that bleeding expensive gasoline.

However, I have found that driving through the city of Memphis with the windows down as an unaccompanied female is apparently an open invitation for the dregs of the Memphis populace to shout lewd comments of a sexually based nature at one. This behavior leaves me bumfuzzled and quite annoyed. It's such a nice addition to my day, to be referred to as some bit of meat, or I think the term I used in a prior post was woman-matter. And, yeah, I've been honked at and yelled at before on walks in city, but for some reason today's just was too much.

And you know, what makes me the maddest is there is very little I can do to stop random people from looking at me as some sort of object intended for their pleasure. I'm boyish already, I don't wear particularly risque clothing anyway and today I was in a regular t-shirt (not that skimpier clothing would be an excuse for street harassers), what is this? (Mind you, I shouldn't be surprised, I've also been hit on when I swear on the Bible I might as well have been in drag.) More "modest" -- in the conservative religion sense of the word -- clothing wouldn't do any good either and in fact might make the situation worse as long, full skirts and feminine tops would just more obviously mark me as someone crammed into the category of female and therefore intended, by some cosmic power, to gratify the male gaze. Perhaps, I could buy some wide Ace Bandages and tape down what little chest I have to begin with, have my hair cut into something that's traditionally masculine, continue wearing the same clothes I do now and see what happens? I could, but I won't, and I should not have to in order to drive or walk around in peace. I also just finished up Chuck Palahniuk's Invisible Monsters -- but that idea is even madder. Yet, somewhere in the back of my mind it makes sense, a radical break from categorization is what I need.

I'm just a voice in your earpiece...

...telling you no, it's not alright.
You know, you could have it so much better.
Franz Ferdinand

Now, switch bands from the UK with heavy accents.

The lyrics to "Eleanor Rigby" have stood out to me with a certain personal significance that I'm positive has nothing to do with Paul McCartney's intention. "Eleanor Rigby died in the church and was buried along with her name -- nobody came." Perhaps it came from the combination of having the Beatles singing in my head while the congregation was singing "None of Self, All of Thee." It always seemed to me to be describing the fate that the church I was at back in high school seemed to be pushing me towards. I was supposed to lose myself in the search for a husband, spend my time now becoming the perfect godly woman, eventually change my name to fit his, have babies, raise them in a church, devote my life to them, and (this wasn't in the plan I added it) probably wind up in a mid-life crisis resenting my hypothetical children and then doing more damage to them than if I had just kept up a career and life outside the home. Well, actually, I wasn't supposed to do that last bit. You see, if I lost enough of myself, if I died and in the church and was buried with my name in marriage, there wouldn't be anything bit of a self left to do the resenting. That might not be the intention, but that's what I experienced as the message, the goal of the socialization. Any other goals or aspirations were suspect, considered grounds for comments from other girls about whether I was a lesbian or not (oh, how I wish I could go back in time, kiss them on the cheek and tell them: sorry, sweetie, you're just not my type!) or perhaps whether or not I actually possessed a heart. Or from the teachers -- well-intentioned women, neither of whom I would describe as underdeveloped, unfullfilled or even particularly silent -- comments that I just need to calm down, that I probably will in five years. (FYI, It's been four and half, and I'm still as weird as ever, if not stranger.)

Anyway all of that leads to today's commentary on Focus on the Family, simple my mostest favoritest organization in all the Republic of Gilead. It's been a while sense I let my trainwreck fascination loose, and I'm bored today. But Fate, one visage of that Eternal Feminine, smiles down upon me, and I stumble over an article directed at my stunning demographic (the female undergrad) with the title: Faith For the Man He'll Become. Oh, it's too sweet. More! More! More! *breaks into Rocky Horror*

First, an Aristoltilean gem on dating:

He found he had a pattern of presuming upon his interest in a specific
woman (before courtship), instead of preparing himself to lead and serve a
wife.

Beacuse, that's right, folks, the female, being inert matter requires a male logos principle to give shape to it's substance. Women don't really exist independently of a man. You don't take interest in a woman, you prepare to find some formless woman-matter and shape it with your reason and your rationality.

But, see, now days, young (and older) members of the class of female are less likely to see themselves as woman-matter in need of a male sculptor. So, there's a learning curve for wives:

So here's what I want to impart to you: There is a learning curve to a man's
leadership as a husband and father. The qualities you can see in a 50-year-old man's life were developed over 50 years. There are 25 more years of growth ahead for the 25-year-old man before it's fair to compare them. While you are called to be discerning about the characters of the men you befriend or court/date, you also have a part in encouraging these men to grow. In fact, that's part of your learning curve as you prepare for being a wife.

Oh, oh, teacher, I forgot, I don't actually have qualities of my own, any qualities I have must first be filtered through a relationship with a properly masculine entity. I don't actually serve, I encourage masculine friends to serve the Bride of Christ. I don't actually grow in my relationship with God, Jesus, or the Holy Spirit because I want to be closer to him, him, or it (because find me the hardcore evangelical who will personify the Holy Spirit as specifically feminine), silly me -- there is no me. I cultivate that so I can encourage a hypothetical future husband to be more Godly, that way I (oops! there I go again with first person subjectivity) won't feel so bad about destroying the last vestiges of myself in order for him to be fulfilled as a husband in his God defined role of Biblical masculinity (despite the fact that Paul explicitly states it is better to remain unmarried). I love being a tool. Use me, please!

Yes, I do realize that most marriages don't actually work like that, and no, this isn't a condemnation of guys looking to be godly, or of young women who do want to marry a godly man. There's nothing wrong with either goal. This is a mock of rhetoric that intentionally or not posits that females don't actually exist, or shouldn't actually exist, independentally of a male.

(In a twisted way, Focus on the Family is quite functional for me. All this sarcasm just builds up and builds up. At least they give me a target.)

Linkage!

Whilst battling back against the insomnia monkeys with a dose and a half of sleeping pills, I note this post from Belledame at Fetch Me My Axe.

Sister Mary Cisgender Explains It All for You

Because if my brain were truly capable of thought at the moment, this would have led it into the thinking labyrinth.

Keira Knightley has Magic Legs

(hate to think of what search strings that'll attract)

Just got back from the third Pirates movie. I have no intentions of any real spoilers, just a handful of comments, but one or two might make it in, depending on what you count as a spoiler.

1) Very, very dark humor. The tone for the whole movie is set by the opening scene. Which is a mass execution. With a moment of very morbid humor as one of the victims isn't tall enough to reach the noose. It's well...let's say the amount of human suffering in this movie almost pushes it past the point of being enjoyable. The director was walking a thin rope. I'll have to watch again before I can say how well or badly he did.

2) Johnny Depp -- brilliantly pointless!

3) Can I give Davy Jones a hug? He and Tia Dalma have what is arguably the best scene in the movie.

4) Barbossa. I do believe I am also in love with him. Or at least want to hug him, the little scoundrel!

5) The title of this post: Keira Knightley has magic legs. Despite having spent the entire movie running about on pirate ships with flithy men with their teeth rottening out, her legs are perfectly devoid of hair at the end. An obvious give to the myth that women were naturally endowed with hairless legs! (Why, yes, I do realize it's Disney, it's ridiculous and over the top anyway, and this movie is based in myth with not a shred of reality. It still struck me as a THINGS DON'T WORK THAT WAY moment.) I was also a little disturbed by the exploitation of potential places to hide weapons on a female body for a cheap laugh. That went past the extreme dark humor into flat out inappropriate.

ETA: So, in my bumping about the interweb ramblings, it seems I have suddenly managed to land myself within the top ten of Google hits, at least at one point last night, for searches regarding the legs of Miss Keira Knightley. In fact, I do believed I have just received my first spam comment, which while it expresses a rather revolting sentiment and abuses the English language, I have decided for the time being to leave up. Anyhoo, because I am a little frightened by being in the top ten for searches that I do believe were purposed to find photo's of Keira Knightley's legs or more prurient discussions of her legs, the radical feminist within me would like to comment that it is rather disgusting behavior to reduce the value of a woman to whether or not her legs are "thick" or "shapley" or "smooth" or "hairy" or whatever. And frankly, I didn't notice what her legs looked like because I was too busy thinking that there was no way under the sun that they could be that hairless!

At this point, I will digress into stating that I think the portrayal of Elizabeth Swan in the Pirates movies -- while far from a feminist's dreams come true (please see above notes regarding cheap laughs) -- is quite refreshing. After all, it's not every day that we get a film or a series of films in which the leading lady develops from a damsel in distress and the object of our hero's desires into her own independent operative, acting to further her own goals, which may or may not be a cross-purposes with those of the hero. And, she's also damn kick-ass. And Keira Knightley isn't even the main eye candy of the film, kudos to Orlando Bloom for, by his pretty-boy status, adding some genderfuck into the mix with oh, so, sexy chest scars.

Further, I would like to note that this blogger endorses the crazy notion that most beauty standards are misogynistic and imposed upon women by the patriarchy for whatever reason. (See this post from Laura, Of I'm Not a Feminist, But... for more on that.) Therefore, this blogger hasn't shaved her won legs in nearly a year and has no intentions of doing so at anypoint in the near future. Why? Because of the revolutionary notion that my legs do not exist for the benefit of someone else's thrills but exist mostly to get me from point A to point B and somwhere after that for my own thrills and chills. My legs -- I will shave them if I want, and won't shave them if I don't want.

But, wait, I hear the chorus now chanting that, but Keira Knightley is an actress and puts her legs up for view by the denizens of the world. She should give the audience what they want -- smooth, hairless legs! A straw man, to whom I can only reply: Keira Knightley is an actress. She is paid to act, not to satisfy your culturally inflicted need for hairless legs on women. Does the dominant culture use actresses to satisfy their sexual fantasy? Yes. Should they? No, probably not. And they particularly shouldn't do so based on a single physical attribute of the woman in question. Love/lust after Keira Knightley because she's had a tendency to play women who are rather awesome and manage at least some degree of independent existence. Not because of her legs!

Thank you. I will now go eat a sausage, zuchinni, and sweet corn casserole. Because sausage is a particularly tasty form of tasty, tasty murder!

But What About the Men?! Modesty Issues

Warning the following is riddled with holes from sarcasm bullets and may contain instances of TMI. Reader discretion is advised. :) (I feel like this should be a sound clip in that sexy voice Fox now uses for the viewer discretion is advised message.)

In some ways, I'm a prude. Please, please, please, my fellow young women, don't come to class with a light swimsuit cover-up on -- your metallic bronze bikini is distracting me! Save it for the appropriate context -- the pool. Of course, the last time I was wearing a dress, I think I managed to scandalize a handful of elders and a coterie of church ladies. It was a nice brown halter-top number. (Yes, there was a reason to be formal -- otherwise my frumpy self would have been in dress pants and a button-up shirt.) Of course, I also suspect that the church ladies thought my roomie was my girlfriend, as there's been a nice cloud of suspicion floating about me for some time. Buying that dress took overcoming six years of active programming to cover my shoulders and back. (I had the same battle with wearing sleeveless tops -- I nearly called someone to celebrate the first day I made it through a whole day wearing one.) Actually, I hate the term modesty. I like appropriate. Dress appropriately for the situation. (If the situation is a nudist colony, I don't care what you wear.)

Yep, so I found a link to a "modesty survey" conducted by one SBC-ish group, the Noble Institute, and endorsed by none other than Albert Mohler of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary -- yah! Having a fascination with such things, I wandered through the survey.

First, I would like to award some fellow, age 26, an award for the best misuse of "feminine mystique."

The way a woman can move, the looks she can make with her eyes, gestures she can make with her hands and poses she can adopt, all of these can add to the 'feminine mystique' that thing which can make a woman very alluring and even seductive.

The feminine mystique does not refer to some aura of mystery about a woman designed to entice the boys, but to myths about a particular version feminine fulfillment, especially those linking female fulfillment to husband, children, and occupation: housewife. Thank you, try again.

Second, pray tell, why should I pick my undergarments based on what guy's want? I don't choose the undergarments based trying to be sexy or trying to be modest. I like comfortable for me. So yeah, if I feel like wearing a halter top bra (unlikely) or if I need to remind my bra strap that its supposed to be on my shoulder not my arm -- get over it. (65.4 percent of the males interviewed agreed that a girl adjusting a bra strap was a "stumbling block.")

Third, the lovely text responses on how skirts are more modest than pants because they are more feminine I shall sigh at, shake my head, think how western-centric it is to associate pants with manliness, and be happy that guys agreeing with that are in the minority. No, brain, no, stop it, you can't go on a rant about the catch-22 of if, as a chick, you pay absolutely no attention to trying to dress attractively you're accused on frumpiness and wanting to be a man.

Fourth, why did they even need to ask if bouncing bosoms when a woman is running or jogging is a "stumbling block"? Furthermore, no, there is not nessecarily a lot that can be done about that and kudos to the fellows who commented that they recognized that. Sports bras help, but any lady with larger breasts is going to have to wear two sports bras at once (yes, many, many girls do this). And to the lovely specimen of humanity who decided to use that question as an opportunity to comment, "General tip: Uncomfortable bras probably weren't designed to be uncomfortable, but rather to attract guys," when was the last time you went bra shopping? I wanna know. Obviously you've never tried on a push-up bra, otherwise you would know the things, while obviously intended to mimic the large bust society holds in such high regard, actually aren't uncomfortable. The really tight sports bras that you need to get everything anchored down for no bouncing -- those suckers aren't comfortable, trust me. Push-up bras, not so much. Anyway, the only males I'm taking bra shopping tips from are drag queens, please fax a copy of your creditentials.

It's not even that everything in here is unreasonable. (It's just way more fun for me to mock those that are.) See through clothing that isn't layered is not high on my list of appropriate garments for most occasions. Same goes for showing your underwear (and that goes for both sexes, thank you very much). And if I could do cartwheels, I might do a couple, because I'm delighted that the vast majority of the respondents said that the ultimate responsibility for whether or not the sinned lay with them and not with women. Applause for the respondents!

But -- why do all of these organizations feel the need to focus only on the potentiality that a male somewhere might become arosed (or to break down some heteronormativity -- a female)? Why that phrasing? Wouldn't it make more sense to focus on young women as individual people and frame the idea of appropriate/modest dress in terms of self-respect and self-determination.

Also, I'm not a guy -- surprise! -- but do guys ever get tired of being told that they are just completely out of control and are going to start thinking of sex at the smallest thing -- like the two seconds it takes a girl to slid a finger under her collar and return a bra strap to the proper place on her shoulder? I blame Augustine and his public baths passage from The Confessions. But then, I blame Augustine for a lot of things.

And why is it that apparently only males experience sexual desire? Seriously, I realize that it is correct generalization that males think about sex more than females, but it isn't like women never experience lust. Why don't the men have to work to make sure they don't become a stumbling block for the women in SBC philosophy land? I could totally come up with some rules. No longer, curly hair fellows. And definitely don't run your hand through it in public, because that just calls too much attention to your curly hair. Please, no nice suits -- I'm a hypocrite but, guys dressed to the nines -- hot. Of course, I find guys in grunge get up hot as well. And if you could, stop it with western style shirts. I don't know why I like them, but I do. So, it'd be a great help to me if you would quit with it. Or at least, you know, like test shirts out first to make sure that they don't bring out your eyes. Come on, if I'm supposed to work hard so fellows don't lust, shouldn't they put forth some effort so I'm not tempted to lust! (See, doesn't this sound ridiculous when reversed?)

Basically, I'm sorry that males have been programmed to see females as sex objects. I'm sorry that females have been programmed to adorn themselves as sex objects. I do understand that many girls dress in order to provoke a sexual response from males. But encouraging or even putting girls in "modest" clothing, does not even begin to get to the heart of the issue. And certainly not when the message is phrased in a way that focuses exclusively on the potential to cause a male to "sin."

And now for something completely different: French Press + Good Coffee = Happy Metra.