Tag: gender equality

Adventures in Recovery: They Will Know We Are Christians By The Fish On Our Car

May 3, 2011

(Thanks Dwight Parker for the title, friendship and inspiration. You are a Rock Star!)

by Calulu

When is a t-shirt just a t-shirt and when is it a smug statement in the face of the world?

Recently I wore my cross to church. That’s something I almost never do and it’s not because it’s ugly. It’s not because I don’t respect what it stands for. If anything I have greater respect for it than I did during my years drinking the kool aid and toeing the proverbial line at my old patriarchal church. I do not want to dishonor what the cross represents.

My cross is beautiful, platinum set with blue sapphires and tanzanites. But I tremble over wearing such an ostentatious symbol of belief around my neck for a variety of reasons.

Back when I was a new Christian attending Possum Creek Christian Fellowship many of the people there wore emblems, t-shirts, jewelry that proudly proclaimed that they were Bible-believing Christians, as if the world couldn’t tell by the floral print cotton jumpers the ladies wore and the polyester pants and button-down shirts of the menfolk.

The t-shirts were imprinted with slogans like “The Devil Is Ugly As Sin” or “John 3:16” or various pious scripture. Bumper stickers abounded on fleets of 15 passenger rolling scrap iron vans in local church parking lots proclaiming that abortion was murder or that you need Jesus RIGHT NOW! Sometimes you’re instructed to “Honk If You Love Jesus”

I remember that my best friend, Josie, had two crosses I envied. One was gold with a stunning number of large diamonds mounted in it and the other was also gold, but a more rococo setting with garnets like drops of blood. I started to save for my tanzanite and sapphire one after wishing for a beautiful gem stone encrusted cross like Josie’s.

Now I look back and it all seems so silly, like status symbols one needs in middle school, like gang affiliations, like ridiculous couture clothing. Instead of doo-rags and those pants that sag to the ground you can hide beers in we ID ourselves with all sorts of things to provide a cultural identity in the Church. I realize now how smug, how proud, how elitist we were in our badges of self righteousness. How unapproachable we must have been in our upright Christian gear, like well-scrubbed indoctrinated cult members instead of average people who believe in God and love others. False pride and we were proud of that pride. Like lemmings lockstep marching along.

I am not even sure what it is that drives people to do things like that, label themselves or put on a public show. A couple of months ago I saw Pastor Hilltop and his non-dancing minions bedecked in t-shirts that had the church name on the back and said on the front “Random Acts Of Kindness” He and his flock were handing out hot cups of apple cider in front of Wal-Mart as their random act of kindness.

That really made me laugh, not only were they sporting matching Tees with their church name on it but they were deliberately giving people cider. Isn’t the whole point of random acts of kindness being that it’s random and you’re not shouting out to the world what you’re doing? I have to conclude this branding has more to do with “LOOK AT ME LOOK AT ME LOOK AT ME I’M SOOOOOOO RIGHTEOUS!” more than any desire to ‘help’ others or show your faith.

That Evil Feminist Movie, “Tangled”

April 21, 2011

[Note: For NLQ readers wo have not yet joined the forum, here's a small taste of what you're missing ~ :) ]

by Tess Willoughby

I found this and just about died. As a woman who escaped from my own abuser and “tower” of extreme fundamentalism, I can’t get over this woman’s take on the Disney movie “Tangled”:

Ladies Against Feminism: Mangled Stay-at-Home-Daughters on the Silver Screen.

Rapunzel’s rebellion, anti-domesticity, and general unwillingness to stay put are decried at length. In the movie, Reims states, “we’re treated to an interesting commentary on homemakers and why these captives to domesticity are setting themselves up for eventual disenchantment.”

Say what?

Even though Rapunzel was deceived by her kidnapper, Reims writes, because Rapunzel thought Gothel was her mother, Rapunzel is a sinner for rebelling against TOTAL abuse, control, and slavery when Rapunzel becomes an ADULT! Rapunzel is put in the same camp as Mother Gothel (“If we’re prepared to say that Mother Gothel’s sins are inexcusable, we must be prepared to say the same of Rapunzel’s”), even though Gothel is a textbook abuser right down to the insults with “I’m just teasing” and the use of terrors to control Rapunzel that Gothel herself has manufactured.

I was amazed at the thorough depiction by Disney of every kind of mental and emotional abuse. Like many of the captors whom we in this forum escaped, Gothel only turns to physical abuse when all other forms of abuse fail. When Rapunzel tries to escape, obviously suffering from acute Stockholm Syndrome, Gothel stalks her and creates a crisis to force her back into bondage. The world is evil, keep your light in the tower, says Gothel. Mother knows best. You’re 18, 21, 25? So what.

From this writer’s viewpoint, if you’re in a home, being domestic, it doesn’t matter that home is a prison and you’re being abused. It doesn’t matter that your authority figure has no intention of ever letting you leave, and does not recognize that parental authority has an expiration date or that husbandly authority can be abused until it is invalid. If you leave, at all, for any reason, you’re being sinful and rebellious and anti-biblical.

NLQ Open Thread: Dear Woman

April 13, 2011

The recently-released video, “Dear Woman,” is based on the “Manifesto for Conscious Men,” a collectively-written document from a number of men who feel that a new definition of masculinity can help redress the imbalances of patriarchy and welcome a new era of loving appreciation between men and women. A group of these men speak from the heart and offer a collective apology, on behalf of their gender, for past abuses of men against women.

Justice is No Lady: Chapter 6 ~ In Which Nate Takes Up Racquetball

April 12, 2011

Warning: This story series contains descriptions of physical abuse.

by Defendant Rising

I tried to conceal my misery, fatigue, and desperation from the members of our new church. We had not been there very long when people began to notice how spaced-out and jumpy Tess Willoughby was. Our pastor, Mike, and our assistant pastor, Randy, both expressed concern about me.

I was pregnant for the seventh time, and I dreaded another pregnancy, birth, and recovery. The clandestine feedings of Matt had delayed this pregnancy—this baby would be two whole years younger than Matt, a personal record. Matt’s birth in 1998 had been in the hospital—my first hospital delivery—because Nate had health insurance through the law office and hospital birth was cheapest. The bright lights and fetal monitor frightened me, and the labor, though not long, was excruciating. I hemorrhaged following the birth and recovery was slow. Two years’ spacing of babies was not enough after so many babies so close together, and I knew it. I was not healed. This pregnancy would be a rough go.

By the third month carrying Abigail, I was sexually sidelined again. Nate complained and quoted Scripture at first, then mercifully seemed to lose interest—not that he ever had much interest in sex where I was concerned. I might hemorrhage after the birth, but at least I was sexually off the hook and wouldn’t be hit with those lightning-bolt cramps.

At about five months’ gestation with Abi, Nate made friends with one of his clients, whose name was Trey. Trey was into racquetball, and Nate announced that he was going to start playing racquetball with Trey a couple of nights a week. I was pleased that Nate had a hobby other than web-surfing, and the five children and I accompanied Nate to the sporting goods store to pick out racquetball equipment.

Nate had his new sport. Bored stiff with home-schooling and unable to sing for an audience, I also itched to take up a hobby of some kind, so I laid out a small garden in the back yard. Nate announced one day that I had ruined his nice lawn with my “ugly weeds” and fired up his lawn mower. As I watched my peas, beans, and flowers fly out the back of the mower and hit the fence, something inside me died. I could not get over it. There was no Bible verse for this. There was no Scripture in this. There were no devils in my garden that needed mowing down. This was bald, capricious cruelty. And it was unprovoked. I had done or said nothing. I could not point to any guilt or failing on my part that caused Nate to kill something of mine.

That was the day I began to stop loving Nate, and began to stop blaming myself for his rottenness. It didn’t happen all at once; Nate killed my love by degrees. Throughout 1999 and 2000, my husband grew more callous than ever. There were fewer endearments coming my way—fewer “honeys” and “sweethearts.” Instead, there were insults. Besides Nate’s old standby, “frigid,” I was “Ditz,” “Klutz,” “Teeny Tits,” and “The Official Willoughby Family Buttwipe.” (Nate did not change diapers, you see.) Thankfully, Nate was not around much to hurl invective at his pregnant wife. He was on the computer more, played more racquetball, had a lot more court dates.

Family Man, Family Leader: Created to be His Help Meet – Help I’ve Created a Monster. Part 1

April 3, 2011

by LivingForEternity

My husband and I met at work. We were both recovering from failed marriages, and were friends for a long time before we started dating. After having a failed marriage we were both determined not to let another one fail.

We had two kids within nineteen months. That was fine as we wanted several children. He worked a lot of hours so I was a very capable manager of our home. I could feed babies and fix water leaks. I did not find it necessary to ask him about every single thing I did. If something needed fixing or doing I took care of it if he wasn’t able to. We were partners. However, as the children began to approach school age I began to question whether I wanted them to go away every day. I had quit work by this time, and really loved my kids.

It was decided that I would home educate them. Both of us are college educated, and we felt confident that this would be possible. I was not into a whole bunch of character stuff. I just liked my kids and wanted to be with them. As I began to get involved in a local home school group I was introduced to some ideas I had never heard of before. I met a lot of women who were very different from me. They seemed to be so calm with their many children. They had never worked and many were not college educated.

As I said before I was very independent. I was in no way co-dependent on my husband. I was a very capable person who could take care of most anything I had to. My new “friends” saw this and sought to “help” me. One of those helps was Created to Be His Help Meet.

Adventures In Recovery ~ Boo! Letting Go Of Magical Devil Thinking

March 31, 2011

by Calulu

Sometimes I forget just how far my thinking has changed since I left
Possum Creek Christian Fellowship only be to reminded in a very big
way when I least expect it. The other day I was reminded how much my
thinking on ‘The Devil’ has changed.

I was working at the quilt studio helping a customer pick out coordinating fabrics for borders and bindings on several quilts she was finishing up. This customer was someone I knew vaguely from my PCCF days, a lady that attended a sister church that has split off from PCCF named Abundant Grace Fellowship. This lady, Michelle M., was a regular at both of the studios, the fiber arts-quilting one and the fine arts studio. She is one of those few from my former world that actually deigns to speak to me like I’m a human being, not an enemy or someone to be pitied.

As I stood at the cutting table unrolling the fabric bolts and cutting her fabrics, the door behind me, the one leading into the employee area, slowly mysteriously creaked open on its own. It opened fully, both sides of the saloon-style door flaying out until you could see all the way to the back door of the building.

Michelle startled, gasped and moaned out, ‘What was THAT?’ I kept cutting before answering her with a shrug and a smile, ‘That’s just our ghost’

The studio is in a former Presbyterian church. The church was constructed in the late 1700′s before becoming our shop ten years ago when the congregation outgrew the building. A building that old is bound to have a few quirks or perhaps unusual visitors. Everyone who works there has seen the opening closing door leading to the employee area. We sometimes hear footsteps upstairs and what sounds like people talking from the upstairs.

For some reason I think our visitor’s name is Charles and he was a former pastor of the church. I think he comes back to check to make sure everything is in order. It’s not spooky, it’s just the way things are there. We’re used to whatever it actually is.

The building next door was a tuberculous sanitarium from that same time frame and people have seen strange shadows and lights inside. Across the street is a pre-Civil War hotel also rumored to have unexplained phenomena.

I’d forgotten until that exact moment how Fundamentalism views anything outside of the norm until Michelle opened her mouth and begin to berate me for trucking with The Dark Side. This was clearly DEMONIC!!! and I must cast it out with prayer and the BLOOD OF JESUS!!! It’s a DEMON!

When Promises Become Dreams: Doing Marriage God’s Way

March 27, 2011

by AfricaTurtle

The title of Sierra’s Post “When Dreams Become Promises” stirred thoughts in me of another Dream, of other Promises that have brought their own dose of pain and disappointment and reality into my life: Dreams of an enduring, godly marriage and the Promises I made to God and myself in order to lay hold of that dream.

I made my first promise at the age of 14. “I promise to never date a non-christian”. It was the call to action given by a speaker at the summer church camp I attended that year. I knew it was right, I knew it was what God expected of me. How can “light fellowship with darkness”? Why would I build a life with someone I couldn’t hope to spend eternity in heaven with? What a heartache that would be! What a burden to bear, to be “unequally yoked”! I knew that God wanted what was best for me. I knew I could trust him. I knew I would never “compromise” my walk with God by dating a non-Christian.

The second promise came only a few, short years later, at the age of 16. “True Love Waits” was the name of the campaign. It was pretty popular that year in various area youth groups and on a national level. I still have the card that I taped to the inside cover of my Bible that year: ““Believing that true love waits, I make a commitment to God, myself, my family, my friends, my future mate, and my future children to a lifetime of purity including sexual abstinence from this day until the day I enter a biblical marriage relationship.” Signed and dated. For my 16th birthday I even asked my dad to buy me a “purity ring”, a ring I would someday give to my husband to show him how I had saved myself for him, and him alone.

Then as I went through high school and built friendships with other “like-minded” and “strong” Christians, we started talking about “casual dating”, why it wasn’t good, the emotional repercussions and so on. We really believed it was important to only consider dating someone who we believed we could actually marry. By this time I knew I had a call to foreign missions so this drastically reduced any dating “options” for me. Not too many guys I knew were interested in heading off to live in the jungles of Africa!

I believe it was also around this time that Josh Haris’ book “I Kissed Dating Good-bye” started to appear in Christian circles. I had pretty much already concluded that casual dating was not for the “mature” Christian. My father had no interest in “choosing” my spouse for me. (Not that he was unconcerned, he just always said “you’re the one that has to live with him, not me! ) So while I never committed to courtship, in the purest sense, I was, nonetheless, convinced God would lead me to the “right man” at the “right time”. This was something I was leaving in his hands. I didn’t “trust” myself with a decision this weighty, I definitely knew I needed God’s guidance, direction, and seal of approval.

Justice is No Lady: Chapter 5 ~ In Pursuit of Biblical Theology

March 25, 2011

Warning: This story series contains descriptions of physical abuse.

by Defendant Rising

Hannah was born at home in spring of 1996. By this time, Nate had a better job at a personal injury law firm and we were able to get a three-bedroom house.

Satan must have followed us, because now there were lesbians having sex in the mailbox and Nate had no idea how the pervert porn peddlers got his name and address again.

I was still in a stupor, still worshipping my cult leader. The lights were on in my brain but no one was home. I think, however, that my brain’s doorbell started ringing in 1996, and Tess’s Good Sense began its three years of patiently knocking, waiting to be invited back in. Doubts, in huge bold type, slipped under the door and were increasingly hard to shove back out onto the doormat of my mind. Even a Branch Davidian or a card-carrying member of the Manson Family would begin to get suspicious when the porno people guessed their leader’s name and address twice.

Nate’s theology had more twists and turns than a ‘coaster at Busch Gardens. I could not keep up, and the numbers of True Christians with whom we could associate grew smaller and smaller.

By degrees, Nate became:

1. A Reformed Baptist—a Calvinist who holds that only “the elect” are predestined to be saved and he’s one of the “elect,” only Nate was the Baptist brand of God’s chosen few, as opposed to the more common Presbyterian variety.

2. A Reformed Baptist Theonomist—all of the above plus embracing Old Testament Law. Nate forbade me to serve bacon, ham, or shellfish. We wore only 100% cotton or other natural fibers.

3. A Reformed Baptist Reconstructionist—all of the above plus a belief that the Old Testament Law as given to Moses should be the one and only law of the United States. This would reconstruct America. In Mosaic Law We Trust.

4. A Reformed Baptist Reconstructionist Polygamist—ditto, with the possibility of the reconstructionist taking multiple wives, the better (and faster) to reconstruct America, my dear.

This was a bit much.

However, Nate was quick to assure me that while God would have no problem with Nate “using his freedom” to take one or more mistresses and call them wives, and while Nate had no problem with polygamy per se—he was actually pretty comfortable with the concept—I, Tess, was so loved by Nate that my husband would set aside his liberty in Christ to sleep with other women out of his great love for me.

Nate did not understand why I was not bowled over with love and gratitude. After all, “God’s Law says . . .” Look at Abraham, Isaac, David, Solomon.