I just finished watching the Independent Lens film The Day My God Died and at moments like this (and it doesn’t help that it’s midnight) I start to get bitter and angry and hopeless.

What kind of mortal test is it for 2,500 children A DAY who get kidnapped and sold into sexual slavery. So that they can be raped 45 times a day, held in cells, then die of AIDS. Die in misery and fear after living through years of torture. WHAT THE HELL KIND OF MORTAL TEST IS THIS?

I’m going to bed now, I’m pissed as hell and incoherent from rage.

There’s a bunch of boys over at By Common Consent hashing out feminist Mother in Heaven stuff. They could probably use some female help.

Too bad I don’t have two brain cells left to rub together. But you can go and state something useful and profound. Please . . .

So my four-year-old daughter was sitting with her little neighbor buddy, he was playing his game boy. She’d never seen one before and was fascinated by it. He was playing Donkey Kong.

Then she pipes up, “I saw that one before.” She sounds sincere and excited, “I saw it on the movie.”

Little boy looks up eager, “You have a Donkey Kong movie? Let’s watch it!”

Quick as a lightening my little angel says, “I already took it back to the video store, I didn’t like it.”

And for a minute I’m confused, a Donkey Kong Movie? Is there such a thing? Did we ever rent it? Wha . . . ???? I don’t think so.

My baby just lied through her teeth. She’s turning into Napoleon Dynamite with nunchuk skills.

And what kills me is just six months ago I believed everything that came out of her mouth, she was disarmingly honest. I’d say, “Did you hit your sister?” and she’d say “Yes.” It was blunt honesty all the time. It’s only been the last few months that I’ve noticed the subtle honing of her lie skills. Sneaking candy, blaming her sister, maintaining plausible deniability. And now apparently . . . . she’s a liar extraordinaire. Yuck.

I didn’t confront her about the lie, I wasn’t prepared, I didn’t know what to say. When she lies to me I confront her, but she wasn’t lying to me. What to do? What to do? Any ideas?

As long as my entire house is torn up, the floors are ruined and all of my furniture is in the kitchen, and I couldn’t go home to mom’s for Thanksgiving, I might as well paint. Right? And paint and paint and paint. Three gallons of it so far.

We had a Charley Brown Thanksgiving, you know, jelly beans, toast, popcorn. Actually I think we really had avocado sandwiches, although the dear husband kept threatening to pop the corn and do the snoopy dance. Which come to think of it would have been “traditional” well the popcorn anyway. There was no way I was gonna cook a big meal with my house like this, especially considering that I don’t like turkey much, and my kids don’t like anything, and the dear husband doesn’t like dishes.

On the up side, after we got over the havoc wreaked by the great flood of ’04 it has been fun picking out new flooring. And since we’re doing much of the labor ourselves to cut back on the deductible, it should be a learning experience too. Anyone have advice on laying pergo or tile? Anyway it’ll probably be at least another week before I pull most of the projects together and can blog much again.

Anyway it has me thinking, why do we spend so much time and energy on making our surroundings and ourselves aesthetically pleasing? Why does beauty of self and surrounding play such a powerful role in our lives? We make thousands of aesthetically driven decisions a day. It can’t really matter in any fundamental way if I pick the plain napkins or the pretty ones with cherries, yet I’ll spend many of my precious seconds and brain cells agonizing over that decision and million other small ones like it. Why?

Why spend four days and four gallons of paint spiffing up my house when the old stuff was perfectly functional and clean and acceptable? What is it that drives us toward beauty? Why does it matter? What is the purpose?

I’ve always believed in being informed and I’ve worked hard over the years to be so.. Prior to November 2nd, part of my morning routine involved checking out the news. I’d read the mainstream media [nytimes, washington post], the left-wing media [salon.com] some right-wing stuff [c/o the folks at meridian magazine] and for a truly differenct perspecitve, the ethnic media [a real must read.] I really tried to take the scripture [Doctrine and Covenants 88] to heart.

78 Teach ye diligently and my grace shall attend you, that you may be instructed more perfectly in theory, in principle, in doctrine, in the law of the gospel, in all things that pertain unto the kingdom of God, that are expedient for you to understand

79 Of things both in heaven and in the earth, and under the earth; things which have been, things which are, things which must shortly come to pass; things which are at home, things which are abroad; the wars and the perplexities of the nations, and the judgments which are on the land; and a knowledge also of countries and of kingdoms—

80 That ye may be prepared in all things when I shall send you again to magnify the calling whereunto I have called you, and the mission with which I have commissioned you.

Anyway, I should emphasize the past tense in the above. My morning routine used to include being a well informed citizen. I used to read many different news sites to try [through my own bizzarre triangulation] to come to some idea of the truth. And I used to try and be as well informed as I could. But after the horribly depressing election I’m now on a month long news moritorium. What I know of the election and George’s current antics I get through dh [my media leak — he tells me the essentials.] I’m trying to regain sanity/perspective and to discover by limited and rather unscientific means if ignorance really can be bliss.

And my results thus far are far from encouraging.

Yes, it is 100% possible to live in this country and be a completely and blissfully ignorant soul. You don’t even have to try very hard. If I hadn’t seen a copy of Newsweek at the grocery checkout stand, I never would have known Yasser Arafat died. If dh hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t have known that half of GWB’s top administration had resigned en masse. I don’t know what’s going on in Iraq. I don’t know who’s blown up whom in some obscure part of the world. I don’t know what American arrogance has wrought in the last few weeks — indeed if I didn’t think it crucial [and a commandment] I would never need to know. It’s really too easy just to live in one’s own community and not give a rat’s hiny about the rest of the world.

This also makes me wonder about my fellow citizens. How many don’t know, don’t care, or entrust their information from sound bites off of Fox News? Or worse, to commercials produced by “conspiring men in the last days.” How many of those who voted [whether or not I agreed with them] did so from knowledge? Or did GWB really win just because fear mongering and hysterical gay bashing got otherwise nice but uninformed souls out to the poles in the swing states?

Anyway. Come December 2nd I’ll be back to news and my informed life and my budding activism and the sometimes depressing results of it all. It is important. Isn’t it? Or can good LDS people be blissfully ignorant and still fulfill the missions which with we have been comissioned?

And how much information do we need?

Discuss.

N.O.

Oh Joy! So we’re back after an emergency trip to the in-laws to fix the station wagon (father-in-law is a mechanic, go ahead and bask in jealousy). We’d been there not five minutes when I heard a squealing from the bathroom. My two-year-old had gone potty, then plugged the sink and turned the water on full blast. The water was already overflowing onto the floor when grandma discovered disaster in progress. Sweet angel wreaking havoc again. La.

Anyway it’ll be at least a week before I can blog with any consistency again, my house is all torn up due to said havoc wreaker.

But I was thinking about a fun list I’d like us to make. A list of all the qualities a perfect Mormon lady should have. (We’ll be equal opportunity and do a Man list later.) The expectations, the unattainable perfection put on us by church culture, by American culture, by harsh reality. You may be as serious, cruel, cynical, funny, sincere as you like. I’ll start:

1. She is happily married in the temple.

2. To a worthy priesthood holder.

3. With 3-8 children.

4. All of whom are well-behaved and active . . . even enthusiastic church goers.

5. Her house must be clean at all times, and in all things, and in all places.
(and any filth present is her fault even if it’s a big dirty pair of man boots sitting in the middle of the hall)

6. go ahead my little feminists and list . . .

La, La, La. What an exciting weekend. First a breast infection that makes me feel like crapola. Then a well-earned Sunday afternoon nap turned to tragedy when we woke up to a flooded house. My sweet little two-year-old got up to go potty, plugged the sink with toilet paper, and left the water running.

Water running out the front of the house into the yard, under the house, in the ducts, five rooms of flooring ruined. Five-hundred dollar deductible, goodbye Christmas presents.

I’m va-clempt, but I will not neglect my FMH duty. A little topic for you to discuss amongst yourselves:

Underlying pretty much all of the debates over the last few days, an assumption all of we Mormons are making which as an angry feminist I feel it is my duty to point out.

We’ve had our differences about the whole careers thing, but still we assume that all women who *can* have children *should* do so. (If married and able-bodied and all that.) But is this true? Is a woman who chooses not to have children really selfish and wrong? Can a woman opt out and not be a bad bad person.

Yes I’m aware of the “multiply and replenish” orders have been given. I agree that motherhood is really the bestest greatest thing in the whole wide world. And I would agree that “by divine design” we ladies are good with kids.

The vast majority of women want to have children. Most women want to be mothers and to nurture their children to become healthy happy adults. Most women would be and are willing to make great sacrifices to have and to raise children. I think this is a clear enough indicator that women are designed to nurture.

But here’s the deal. We are all so different. For instance, my MIL is a kiddie genius. She loves them, they love her. She would spend every waking hour holding babies and playing Candy Land and be perfectly fulfilled, content, and happy. She genuinely enjoys nurturing.

Now I think I’m a great mom. I love my kids and they seem to be turning out well. I stay home with them (although it’s not so much a noble sacrifice as a total lack of ambition) and I nurture. But I don’t like it. I love my babies but I can think of a billion things I’d rather do than play Candy Land. Sure I get warm fuzzies from motherhood that makes it all worth it, but holding babies has never interested me much. I nurture just fine, but I don’t enjoy it much.

I have known several women in my life (although not very well I’ll admit), who had no aspirations to be mothers. They did not like children, had no desire to have one of their own and didn’t forsee that ever changing. And yet, so far as I could tell they were very fine human beings. One lady, Stacy worked forty-hour weeks and volunteered another twenty hours at the Humane Society. She was a good lady, she just didn’t like kids.

Now I suppose you could say that Stacy is selfish, that her priorities are wrong. If she were truly Christ-like, if she were following God’s commandments, then she would see the error of her ways and she would have children and she would like it.

I just don’t think this is the case. I don’t like nurturing much, and I don’t think that I could just decide to like it. I don’t think that if I focused on being selfless and studied the deeper meaning of Candy Land that I’d suddenly turn into my MIL and truly really thoroughly love nurturing and find it fun.

I know life is not all about fun, we are all expected to clean toilets and go trudging off to work that we hate to buy food. But the point is, should a woman who really hates the idea of mothering, become a mother? Should she try to change her nature and in doing so experiment with a fragile little person’s existence?

Certainly some women may avoid motherhood because they are self-absorbed and egotistical. But then again many self-absorbed and egotistical women become mothers and they’re terrible at it.

My friend Wendy (who I mentioned in my sex post) was telling me about her mother the other day. Wendy’s mom didn’t want kids but she gave into pressure from her husband to have Wendy and she despised every day of it, up to and including yelling such lovely things as “I never wanted kids, I should have aborted you” at her daughter. Wendy has healed herself from this horrid childhood, but she agrees, her mother should never have had children. Motherhood brought out the worst in her mother. Wendy sees now that her mother is a good woman, she’s done a lot of really great things with her life, however, she should never have been pressured into having a child, she was a terrible mother.

It seems to me that the vast majority of women are nurturers by nature. But as with anything in this life, it’s not black and white: I think it is flawed to say that nurturing women are good, non-nurturing women are bad. And therefore the more nurturing you are, the better person you are, and the less the less.

Who are we to decide who is selfish, and who is simply being honest about their abilities and interests. If a woman can look at her own nature and say, “I’d be a terrible mother, I think I’ll be a police officer instead,” is that selfishness or is it wisdom?

I am never going to love nurturing. Simple as that. I work hard at it, I think I’m good at it, but I don’t like it. I don’t think that makes me selfish. I’m just honest about where my interests are.
It’s a bit too judgmental for my taste to say that women who do not want to be mothers are in some way flawed. That they should fix those flaws and learn to want motherhood.

That’s not complete, but it’s much longer than I meant it to be and I should have been in bed an hours ago. Now discuss.

We Feminist Mormon Housewives would like to thank Ebenezer Orthodoxy from the bottom of our angry activist hearts. He has been a good sport and his posts have been really deep thoughtful and powerful. We appreciate the effort and his williness to put himself out there. What a guy!

And we would like to welcome a new member Sumer (pronounced Summer). I have it on good authority that she is a hotbed of controversy. May the good times roll.

(Read Part 1 here.)

Before I begin the sequel to my previous post, I want to thank Lisa again for the wonderful opportunity to guest blog here. This will be my last post and then I will get back to my own neglected blog. While I know that we continue to disagree on various things, it is good to know that there are wonderful people like the feminist mormon housewives in the church with whom I share a testimony of Jesus Christ and the Restored Gospel. May God bless them and you.

In the Proclamation on the Family, the Church declared:

“The first commandment that God gave to Adam and Eve pertained to their potential for parenthood as husband and wife. We declare that God’s commandment for His children to multiply and replenish the earth remains in force.“

The Proclamation then goes on to define specific and separate roles for men and women:

• “By divine design, fathers are to preside over their families in love and righteousness and are responsible to provide the necessities of life and protection for their families.“

• “Mothers are primarily responsible for the nurture of their children.“
• “In these sacred responsibilities, fathers and mothers are obligated to help one another as equal partners.“

While there appears to be a degree of flexibility for circumstance, and parents are always required to help one another as equal partners, the proclamation declares fairly forcefully that these roles are “by divine design” and not merely traditional social constructs that have carried over into the church.

This may seem a non sequitur, but in an effort to better understand the topic at hand, I need first to discuss the symbolism of Baptism.

The Baptismal ordinance is rich in symbolism. I fear, however, that, like the Sacrament, it has become a kind of cliché and that its beautiful symbols are lost in favour of a cursory reading of Romans 6 and canned Sunday-school answers.

To explore the symbolism of Baptism, we’ll look at Enoch’s teachings in the Pearl of Great Price:

Therefore I give unto you a commandment, to teach these things freely unto your children, saying: That by reason of transgression cometh the fall, which fall bringeth death, and inasmuch as ye were born into the world by water, and blood, and the spirit, which I have made, and so became of dust a living soul, even so ye must be born again into the kingdom of heaven, of water, and of the Spirit, and be cleansed by blood, even the blood of mine Only Begotten; that ye might be sanctified from all sin, and enjoy the words of eternal life in this world, and eternal life in the world to come, even immortal glory; For by the water ye keep the commandment; by the Spirit ye are justified, and by the blood ye are sanctified; (Moses 6:58-60)

Enoch gives us the words we must teach our children. He declares that we are born into this world by water, blood, and the spirit. Water, blood and the spirit is a description of physical birth: we are immersed in the fluids of the womb, our physical body is joined with our spirit, and our mother sheds her own blood to give us birth.

We tend to think of baptism in terms of burial and resurrection, but the symbolism is richer than that. Baptism has long been described as a rebirth, but the concept is so familiar and clichéd that we seem to have disconnected it from and imagery of birth it self. Enoch clearly associates them.

Baptism is a symbolic birth. We are again immersed in the waters of the womb. Jesus Christ travails in birth and sheds his own blood to bring us to life. Afterwards, we receive the Spirit to sanctify us. In the process we become his children and as such take upon ourselves his name and receive his image in our countenance, just as we took on the name of our parents and received their image in our countenance when we were physically born.

It is clear that the atonement carries a great deal of birthing imagery. I would like to suggest, however, that we have the symbolism backwards. Subsequent verses of Enoch’s profound discourse explain:

And now, behold, I say unto you: This is the plan of salvation unto all men, through the blood of mine Only Begotten, who shall come in the meridian of time. And behold, all things have their likeness, and all things are created and made to bear record of me, both things which are temporal, and things which are spiritual; things which are in the heavens above, and things which are on the earth, and things which are in the earth, and things which are under the earth, both above and beneath: all things bear record of me. (Moses 6:62-63)

It is not the atonement that reflects birth imagery, but it is process of giving birth that reflects atonement imagery. If we look to the animal kingdom, we can see that there are numerous ways in which life is reproduced. God could have arranged the method of giving birth in any way that he pleased. I believe that the Lord has specifically designed the human birth process as a symbol for the atonement of Christ.

I remember vividly the birth of our first child. My wife had told me in no uncertain terms that my job was to remain quiet, hold her hand, and be there if she asked for anything–and that was it. I sat there holding her hand through the night as she suffered in silence. I sat at her side in a chair turned to face the bed. I am ashamed to say that I fell asleep sitting up, my head slumped forward onto the mattress. She did not wake me, but continued alone in her increasing pain.

When I awoke, I apologized. I had let her down. A thought was impressed forcefully on my mind in that moment. My wife was participating in something holy to which I was merely an observer. She was playing the part of the Christ, the anointed one, suffering in the garden to bring life to another. And I was Peter, sitting a distance away, fallen asleep when I should have been watching and praying–the agony and mysteries of birthing just as incomprehensible to me as the agony and mystery of the atonement—while she trod the winepress alone. In the final stages of the birth, our beautiful new daughter emerged in a small flood of blood and water and she took her first breath of life.

The symbolism is still overwhelming to me. And yet it is more than a symbol, it is real—the suffering is real, the blood, water, and spirit are real, the new life is real. My wife is not merely a symbolic Saviour, she is a real Saviour.

The purpose of life is to become godlike, and more specifically Christ-like. Everyone who succeeds in this objective will do so by doing what Christ did: Giving up his or her own life.

For women, giving up one’s life often means sacrificing her preferred life’s path to raise and teach children. When a brilliant, talented, promising young woman sacrifices the fabulous career, advanced degrees, and public recognition that certainly would be hers so she may stay at home with her children to give them the quantity and quality of nurturing they need to grow up healthy, happy, and well grounded in the Gospel, she exhibits true Christ-like love and submission.

Christ was young, brilliant, and talented. With his power he could have had a brilliant career of fame and glory–he could have ruled the world. But he gave it all up for us. He died.

What woman would not prefer to let that bitter cup pass? But, by submitting to the will of the Father, they pass this life’s test and show that they will be obedient in all things. Motherhood is the most glorious, beautiful thing a woman can ever do, for it is the most Christ-like thing anyone can ever do. Why would we desire worldly prestige, fame, and social acceptability more?

We have often been told that the body is a temple. In the case of women, perhaps this description is more literal than we think. What is a temple but the holy place were the children of God go to be clothed with godliness and power. A woman’s body is a temple where the spirit children of God go to be literally clothed with godliness and power: with bodies.

Women are born with the capacity to be Christ-like built into their very physiology. Men, on the other hand, have no such advantage. That may be one of the reasons why the Lord has decided to bestow the priesthood upon the men of the church. The priesthood compensates for male deficiency in this regard–it makes men equal with women in their potential to be like Christ.

Men would rather be off submitting to their most base passions. The priesthood, when borne correctly, requires the man to serve and sacrifice for his wife, children, and church. It requires him to constrain his natural urges for money, sex, power, and fame and demands that he protect, provide and serve. As a good priesthood bearer, the man mirrors the woman, sacrificing his future to give his wife and children life by providing them with sustenance and protecting them from destructive outside influences, both physical and spiritual.

Men become equal with women as they represent Christ in the baptism ordinance. They perform the symbolic birth as a reflection of the physical birth ordinance performed by the mother, both of which mirror the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ as he gives spiritual birth to us. When filled correctly, both roles are of service and sacrifice.

The roles of men and women are divinely designed for the salvation and glorification of each. And just like Christ’s sacrifice, there will be a resurrection. Death is not permanent and in either role the life that we relinquish will be given back to us in time, but it will be far better and glorious than it would have been otherwise.

Sometimes we are tempted to covet the roles of the other. When we do so, however, we are breaking the 10th commandment. We should ask ourselves what it is that we really covet: Is it the calling itself, or is it the apparent prestige of the calling? It is tempting to murmur that it’s not fair, it’s not just, it’s not equal, it’s not right! However, we should seriously ask ourselves if we really want God to be perfectly fair with us. I certainly don’t. If God were to treat all of us justly then every single one of us would be damned to a never-ending hell. That is, after all, what all of us deserve; that is what justice and fairness demand. Thanks to Christ and his sacrifice, God can be merciful. As recipients of that mercy I don’t think that any of us are in a position to complain excessively about what is fair.

At the same time it is a terrible truth that offices of the priesthood are, at least culturally, held in great esteem and that their prestige is unavailable to women. The solution, however, is not to give women the priesthood. The solution is to exalt our understanding and esteem of the role of mother and thereby create a new culture, not of Feminism, but of Christ-centred Materism.

My prayer is that by teaching the beautiful baptism, atonement, birth symbolism of motherhood to our children, as Enoch commands us to do, as well as the endowment symbolism of the clothing of spirits with godliness in the temple of the womb, we may, as a church, come to revere motherhood above all; that women, young and old, may be held in holy awe; and that no calling in the church or office of the priesthood will be held in as great regard as that of a Mother in Zion.

It’s true, I now have two pairs of pants. TWO! Bought a new pair at Cosco today, in a very comfortable roomy size. And they look good. Yippee!

And if you’re scratching your head, wondering why I’d be so thrilled read this.

Sometimes I wonder
if cheese can really be so good,
except when I’m eating it
because then
I know.

but I admit
I had a moment of doubt
when mom
enfused with a beam of true knowledge
bought a small brick
of
california cream torte with basil and pine nuts
that cost as much as a small island
or some ridiculous russian caviar that no one really wants to eat anyway

how good could it be?
I thought
doubting
that even cheese
could be worth it

And then on a cracker
Oh ode,
ode, I say
Ode to cheese

Even the memory is
smoother than butter
richer than cream
subtle, sophisticated, fantasmagoric

I mean who would
want
a small island

I mean who would
eat
salty slavic fish eggs

when they could know
bliss

Every good Mormon Feminist should read Jenna’s post on Breasts and the sexualization thereof.

*fixed because Kaimi pointed out that I’m tactless again*

My post last night was pretty harsh, and I can understand why it made a lot of people feel uncomfortable. I’m about as subtle as a brick and I seem to have a gift for using language powerfully. Someone even commented that I’m an evil spirit, which is also pretty harsh, but I can sympathize with her discomfort.

If you don’t feel comfortable here, I’ll be sad to see you go, but we all are in different places in our lives. I can’t watch the news right now. As sad as I’m about what’s happening in Darfur, I can’t face the stories that come out of there. A woman with a handful of rice to feed her five children, but no wood to cook it with. And the risk of looking for very scarce fuel is the risk of being gang raped by thugs. The cold hard truth of it is too much for me right now and my spirit isn’t strong enough to deal with it.

I can understand if you feel that way about my opinions. It’s okay to avoid the questions if they hurt you too much right now. Or ever. And certainly never do anything that will drive you away from the church.

I don’t think I’m evil, or that my thoughts (while they could have been more balanced, the risks of posting at two in the morning I suppose) are inspired by satan. They’re just my honest facing of the truth as I see it. Blunt is my culture, and it’s not so much the culture of the church.

I suspect what many of you are feeling is not a spirit of evil, but the discomfort of culture shock. I experienced it too, when I discovered I had questions I couldn’t ignore any more and opinions that were no longer mainstream. It was no easy for me to find a place where I could have both my faith and my honest questions. I guess maybe I hoped this would be a place that we could explore that territory together. But I will not believe that my belief in the value of hard questions and my belief in the divine and underlooked worth of women is based in the spirit of evil.

Have you ever taken note of the intense discomfort you feel in the midst of a different culture. I know I’ve felt it, surrounded by Mexicans, surround by Muslims, surrounded by Baptists. Not knowing quite what to say, not feeling like I fit in, wanting to go back to where I feel safe and comfortable and welcome. But that feeling is just one of human nature, Mexicans and Muslims and Baptists are not evil. The discomfort I sometimes feel isn’t based in the fact that they’re cultures are wrong, it’s just that I don’t know how to navagate myself there, I don’t know how welcome I am, I don’t know if I will be accepted, or how these new people and ideas fit into my already formed world view.

Yes, please avoid evil influence. But also be careful that you don’t confuse evil influence with plain old human discomfort at brushing up with the unknown. It’s for you to deside. Pray about it, avoid me, do what ever you need to do to feel okay with yourself.

I for one will be working on my social skills, once again. I’ve driven off my friends at an alarming rate and I just don’t like that. Time for me to go off and grow.

I’m having an angry feminist moment. I followed a link from T&S over to this Moral Politics Test. It’s a fun (if sometimes poorly worded) test, you should try it. And anyway, I got to this question and had to pause:

6. About men and women:

A. Men and women are equal.
(Society should treat men and women in the same way in all domains and actively prevent disparities.)

B. Men and women are different.
(Men and women should play different roles in families and society.)

C. Men have moral authority over women.
(Men should have a very important or final say in women’s lives.)

D. Men and women are different, but equal.
(Men and women are equal but biological differences suggest that they can play different roles in certain contexts.)

I believe D. Both A & B are . . . incomplete. And C I find repugnant. And yet . . . C is my life. As a Mormon, in ways both implicit and explicit C is my life.

You can couch it in whatever kind of language you want, you can justify it however you like. But if you boil Mormon gender belief down to one simple statement C is that statement, and that makes me ill.

How do I reconcile this? (more…)

Don’t wait until the end of the month, sisters, here are the fabulous feminist topics I’ve found this month.

First off go visit SleeplessInPortland to answer the question, “What do I say to an RM who calls me ‘used goods’.”
My answer: “Kick him in his tiny shriveled sexist testicles.”

Then discuss the agony and ecstasy of being girly with Ms. Katie and Ms. Maggie.

Then enjoy some nightmare date stories from Lizzy’s Life and Sara Marinara.

There, now go do your feminist Mormon Naccering Teaching and feel accomplished.

And now for something completely different.

Enough with the politics, lets get to a topic I really enjoy! I really really enjoy sex, so much so that I’m not always as respectful as I should be. Although I’m not exactly sure how respectful that is anyway. Opinions vary.

WARNING: This post is rambling and somewhat pointless, I should be asleep instead of blogging, but I’m not. You were warned.

I’ve lived a very sheltered life. I suppose I don’t know much about sex except that I like it a lot. I don’t have much personal knowledge of this sexual revolution that has apparently swept the country since . . . what’s it been 40 years ago. Most of my friends fall into three categories. 1. Waited until they were married. 2. Pretended they waited, because they were ashamed/embarrassed. 3. Got pregnant and got married. I’m a number one.

I’m sure many of you can hardly conceive of this, in this modern world, but that’s my sheltered life. I have in the last few years become friends with a few women who have more first-hand knowledge of the skanky world I have never seen, but I haven’t yet had “the talk” with them. But I’d like to hear the dirt, it’s just such a different world view than any I’ve ever come into contact with. I’m very curious about it. And not in the Hollywood way.

I’ve seen the Hollywood version. I watch movies, see TV (though no cable at all, I’ve never had cable. Can you believe that? Not once in my entire life have I lived in a home with cable. I’m a cave dweller.) It seems that people are having lots of happy breezy premarital sex out there. Or at least it always works that way on Friends.

I have my doubts that it really works this way. But what do I know? I know what the gospel teaches us about sex and its sacred nature. I believe it deeply. I know that most people don’t have the gospel as a guide, they have Hollywood. I don’t know how accountable people should be, or the effects this has on the emotional health, or their spiritual health.

I was reading in Newsweek about the new hooking-up thing they have going on in high schools and colleges these days and it made me really sad. I don’t consider myself a prude, despite my sheltered upbringing. I’m not into holding people accountable for moral systems they have little contact with and no belief in. But I still can’t help but think that hook-ups are an especially sad thing, specifically for girls who just aren’t built psychologically (or spiritually) to have sex with strangers. Not that boys get off easy either. It’s just that sex is much more sentimental and risky (in so many ways) for women, that’s all. Pregnancy and disease aside, the emotional risk seems huge for girls.

One of the most telling quotes in the article was from a girl who, when asked what makes a sucessful hook-up replied, “When no one finds out.”

Now that’s a rip-roaring good time! How sad.

So I asked one of my new non-mo friends about this (I have two, both relatively recent acquisitions). I’ve just started to get to know Wendy, we click. She’s not religious at all, She’s Jewish and secular, she lived a rough life, rough and sad, and pulled herself through it into happy stable picture-perfect hubby-and-two-kids suburban bliss. Hee hee. So she knows all about the skanky world, up close and personal. And doesn’t have fond memories of it.

So I asked her what she thought, was this as sad as I thought? Can girls hook-up and come out unscathed? Can boys? I totally sympathize with the reasons they want to go out and play around with sex. I love sex. But for me it’s . . . not always sacred exactly, but it’s more about trust and relationship . . . and fun too but that part would be so empty without the LoVE stuff. Recreational sex just sounds scary and sad to me.

Unfortunately, we were interrupted and the discussion didn’t get deep or insightful. So does anyone here want to enlighten me on how these things really work out in the real world? Feel free to express whatever opinion you want, both secular and religious. If I ever finish that discussion with Wendy and if it’s interesting, I’ll blog it.

I’ve always considered myself a very political person. I remember staying up half the night when I was eleven to see if Ronald Regan won. I didn’t really understand it, but I was very interested.

But lately, and even before the election, I can hardly even bring myself to read the discussions. I want to cover my eyes and run the other way and vomit. I’ve purposely avoided posting anything here that might stir up much political controversy or any real substantive debate simply because I don’t have the energy or desire to engage in that debate. I care deeply, I just don’t want to talk about it.

What’s wrong with me?

I feel like it’s all been said before, we keep throwing the same arguments out there and no one ever changes their mind about anything. So why talk at all. And yet I changed my mind. I voted for Bush Sr when he lost, but four years later I’d changed drastically and voted for Clinton and I’ve been a raging liberal ever since. So somewhere in those four years, the discussion mattered, the talk changed me, all these arguments that I feel I’ve heard a hundred times and am finding rather pointless recently really did have an impact on me.

So why do I feel so jaded about it now. Why can’t I passionately and civilly state my opinions the way many of you do in your many arenas? Why does it feel so pointless?

I don’t think I’ll be able to blog for a while. I’m more sad than I thought I’d be. I’m not functioning well . . .

There’s electricity in the air today. I feel it jumping off my skin and through my stomach as I breathe. Everything is charged with expectation.

As much as I’ve been trying not to care too much, I do.

I haven’t been able to vote yet. I was thinking about calling up the old Not Much Sense of Humor about it Republican Visiting Teaching Partner and saying “Hey, you wanna watch my kids for a minute while I go vote for Kerry.” Just to see what she says. I’m sure it would be “Yes”, but I’d be testing the limits of her sisterly love. I’ll just wait until the dear husband gets home from work.

I guess when I get too caught up in thinking I know what’s best for the world (KER-RY! KER-RY! KER-RY!), it’s good to think about the people with whom I disagree as people that I love. People who care as much as I do. People with brains that work just fine.

Almost all of my friends, family, and neighbors will vote Bush. These are people that I love.

I know some of you will vote for Kerry, and some for Bush. And most of us probably feel strongly about our choice. At this point, what’s more important than who wins today, is how we can start to heal tomorrow.

First, win or lose, we need to approach that fate with humility. Roughly half the American people disagreed with my choice (and yours), no matter how strongly I feel I am right, it’s the height of arrogance to dismiss the opposition as evil, misguided, uninformed, uncaring, selfish, or stupid. Please let’s resist the temptation to dehumanize or dismiss our opponents.

And let’s have some faith in each other, let’s pray for each other. If I win, I’ll pray for your comfort. If I lose, please pray for mine. If I win, I’ll pray my hopes for a better future will come to fruition. If I lose, after one good cry, I’m going to let go of my bitterness and anger.

I don’t think the divide is as deep or as severe as it seems right now. Most Americans are moderates, and even those of us further left and right of that have so much in common so much to bind us. We have a choice to make today so make sure you vote. But we have another choice to make tomorrow so please let’s love each other and heal this rift.

I only have one pair of pants. And they’re dirty. And instead of getting off my big rump to put them in the wash, I’m sitting here writing this whiney post about how I only have one pair of pants.

You see, I’ve been thinking about this whole fat/thin girl issue. Over at Chubby Girl Brigade, they’re asking for pictures, but promise to mock skinny girls who dare apply. And over a Hugo (my idol) Schwyzer he did a whole post about the inherent anti-womanism of the skinny police.

And I sit here with one pair of pants because in the last four years I went from skinny to fat, to not-quite as skinny to even fatter, to not-quite-as-not-quite as skinny to really quite fat, to where I am now: which is not skinny. Overweight is what the charts say. (and don’t tell me it’s baby fat, because I’ll have to poke your eyes out). And since I have been such a wide range of sizes in the last few years, and since most of the money has gone into baby stuff and medical bills, my closet is empty.

And yes I would like some cheese with my whine, thankyouverymuch. Even back in the skinny days my motto was “there’s no such thing as too much cheese.” So bring on the cheese, and I’ll eat it with my kid’s Halloween candy, and I refuse to feel guilty about it.

Except I do, of course. Because I’m a woman and I allow myself to be a victim to this warped air-brushed society we’ve created. So I want to be skinny despite my best efforts to tell myself it’s more important that I’m healthy, which I’m sure I am. I better be! Or I’m going to have to put some of that kickboxing to good use on those exercise guru’s testicles.

And I want perky boobs again. Bras are great, I love them (as you may recall), but I’d like to whip the bra off and see some bounce rather than a frightening dive to my knee caps.

And I want new clothes, because I like clothes. I’m not proud of it, but for all my populist ranting I’m really rather vain. I want to be pretty, with poofy hair and neat sweater sets that make my boobs look even perkier and hide this seven-month pregnancy ball-o-butter. (Another motto, “there’s nothing that can’t be made better with butter”).

So here’s the thing, where’s the peace in it? I want to enjoy getting older, I want to love my body, I want to be comfortable with me no matter what out-of-style ugly-ass purple-polyester-stretch pants I’m wearing over my poochy belly fat.

Is such a spot of zen even possible for a liberated woman like myself? If I strive to let go of all these shallow concerns and strive to care about something bigger, can I reach it?

Or do I give up now, go on a diet, max out the credit card on some fabulous new shoes, and get a boob lift? Hum? What’s the answer? ANSWER ME PEOPLE!!!