Stephen blogs at Ethesis.

I’ve thought a lot about things I could say as a guest poster. The obvious is an essay I’ve been working on about what the Book of Mormon really has to say. Especially given the last year and how the Book of Mormon touches my life, it seemed easy.
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. . . or Ms. Innocent strikes again.

Blossom’s birthday is rapidly approaching and as is our custom, she has selected a theme.

Blossom wants a rainbow party. I couldn’t care less about the queer-rainbow connections. She’s five, she likes rainbows, she can have rainbows. I’m all for celebrating diversity anyhow.

And rainbow party has so many fun aesthetic possibilities. We’ve done flower party, monster party, puppy party, strawberry party, pink puppy party (Buttercup has puppy obsession).

So I get online thinking I’ll look for some rainbow invites or maybe some rainbow plates just to supplement what I think will be some very cool homemade decor. (my ideas for rainbow cake possibilities are blowing my mind with their coolness!)

I google rainbow party, and whatdoyaknow? My daughter’s been proudly announcing for weeks that she’s having a rainbow party. No one has said a word, perhaps no one round these parts watches Oprah.

Yesterday I overheard my kids playing pretend.

“Okay, I’m the big sister,” says the big sister. “You’re the little sister.”

“Okay!” says little sister.

“And our mommy is dead,” Big Sis’s voice is solemn.

“And our daddy is dead too,” says Little Sis gleefully.

I know dead parents is a really common childhood fantasy, still, it hurts to be discarded so cavalierly. Not that my kids really wish me dead, nor certainly are they prepared to off me to make their fantasy come true. It’s just a fantasy, one that most all of us have entertained on some level, from Harry Potter to Anne Shirley.

Of course real dead parents are much worse than pretend dead parents, we all know that, we know that despite all evidence (in fiction) to the contrary, most orphans don’t grow up to be Batman. Nope, in reality the plight of orphans is often bleak. But despite bleak reality the fantasy persists, and as a culture we embrace it.
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. . . my mom says to me as I head out the door. She worries about me as all good mothers do.

But I’m not really sure what this means. More importantly I’m not sure she knows either.

Who does she think I am? And what makes her think I will forget myself? You see, I was headed to the Sunstone Symposium to talk about Mormon Feminists. And really, how more “me” can you get?

Compare this to my husband’s response, which was something like: (after I explained what Sunstone is) bright excited look and a ‘cool’ and then a ‘have you seen my keys’. It isn’t that he doesn’t care, but he knows me (and trusts me?) on a level that my mom just does not.

It wasn’t always like this for dh and me. Once upon a time, we had many strained conversations about religion and feminism. The tension and fear in some of those moments are still seared into my brain. Honestly, he still doesn’t ‘get’ many of my concerns, sometimes my anger mystifies him. But he accepts me and he loves me. I shudder to think that we might have slipped into a relationship of half-truths and thick-walls like I have with my mother.

Not too long ago a commmenter asked me how dh and I got to this point. How did we jump those hurdels, how did he come to be comfortable with me as I am. But I’m not entirely clear in my own mind what made the difference. I’m trying to come up with something solid, but I can’t quite grasp it. I’m trying.

It’s not a matter of unconditional love. My mom has loved me through liberalism, she would love me if I wore nothing but butter and worshiped trees. I know that. I KNOW it.

So it’s something other than love, clearly.

I don’t know, I have to go to bed now, tomorrow is the first day of kindergarten for my oldest baby, I’m going to cry a lot tomorrow. Boo Hoo.

As you can see on the sidebar, I’ve picked a new book. (It’s about time!). We will be reading In Sacred Loneliness:The Plural Wives of Joseph Smith by Todd Compton. It’s time.

It’s been popular and it’s been around for a while, so if you’re strapped for cash (like me) you can probably get it from your library (like me) or pick it up used. Although I’m sure Todd Compton wouldn’t mind if you bought it new and full price from Signature Books.

In other news: FMH’s two year anniversary passed last week with zero fanfare. If you are intersted, I did an anniversary post last year with a little blog history.

And finally, my dad’s doing pretty good. He’s home from the hospital on an array of new drugs (which are making him sick, but they’ll figure it out), and he’s alert and feeling optimistic. So good news.

I’m the baby. Number eight, in a traditional big Mormon family. I’ve always loved my big family, and I’ve always loved being the baby.

My mom was forty when she had me, and my dad six years older. Having older parents was great. They were way more relaxed than my friend’s parents, they knew how to set limits without cramping my style. They were wise and energetic and lots of fun. As I became a teen and my siblings left the house, my parents had more money to spend on me (spoiled brat) and more free time than they’d had as young parents.
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About Jennifer:

I’m now settled in the beautiful Pacific Northwest in the shadow of Mt. Hood and Mt. St. Helen’s.

WHAT WE (SHOULD?) DO FOR LOVE

My husband hates my hair. Actually he loves my hair; he just hates my current hair cut.

At the beginning of summer I decided, rather impulsively, to get my hair cut short….I mean really short. Man short.
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A few years ago, I joined a group of women from my ward for a book club.  We met once a month and took turns selecting a book for the group to read.  Sometimes they would subject me to LDS fiction (a genre I generally avoid at all costs) and in return I would subject them to science fiction classics; it seemed fair.  I really did enjoy it, even when it meant tearing apart some of the books I hated, and it lasted a couple years before too many people drifted out, and not enough could be recruited, so we broke up.

When a list was passed around church a few weeks ago to sign up for a book club, I was totally up for it. Being in Young Women instead of Relief Society, I didn’t know any details, only what the sign-up sheet said, and all it said was “Book Club.” Then this week I got the info.  It is a Deseret Book book club, Time Out For Women (http://deseretbook.com/time-out/).

This really, really bothers me. 

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This week included an office move for me. It was a 6 mile move, so I had to actually pack up rather than just drift from one office to another, and though it means moving only one computer, two full boxes, and several armloads of stuff, it was still a pain. The fact that it was 100 degrees out at the time didn’t endear me to the process.

This led me to wonder about the afterlife. Will we ever have to pack up and move in whatever kingdom we end up in? Will only those in the telestial kingdom have to pack up and move, or is it only a punishment reserved for spirit prison?

Regardless of the answers to the above, will we actually have any stuff, beyond a seer stone for those exalted, post-resurrection? If we do, can we just teleport it effortlessly?

Random, wild speculation is encouraged in your answers.

Well, I’m back from vacation. I know, I know, it’s such a relief for you. You all, waiting around with bated breath for my return. I appreciate it, I do.

I’ve only read a small fraction of the stuff I missed, I mean things were hopping ’round here. Thanks for all the help from TracyM and our Guest posters and Emily, N.O., and Becky for posting and moderating everything.

I ate a lot of cake. And drove a lot. And then ate more cake. And a few Navajo tacos (the highlight of my gastronomic year) at the fair, then I ate more cake. I ate some cake with Kristine Hagulund Harris (my hero), I drank some water at Sunstone, I ate salad with Te’a (so nice)(but what were we thinking, why no cake?). I’ll have you know that I ate my entire salad in the time it Te’a to put the dressing on her salad. Fastest eater in the West, that’s me.
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Shelly describes herself as a well educated teacher of languages, who is temple married with a new baby (her first). She is a returned missionary who attended BYU and is active at church. She currently lives in Toronto, Canada. Not having found any existing FMH posts that relate to the question she’d like answered, she’s submitted her own post, in hopes that we can all give her some advice. She writes:

So here’s my story: Married in the temple, my husband and I are both returned missionaries. After four great years of marriage, we finally decided to have a baby. I put my career on hold, and now stay at home to take care of our baby. One day, my husband tells me that he’s been drinking and smoking for the last four months without telling me. Then I look at our visa statements and find out that he’s been to strip clubs too. (more…)

Just wanted to give you all the wonderful news.

Our absolutely darling little baby girl, henceforth known to fMh readers as Marigold, was born last Wednesday, August 9th, at 5:45 a.m. She was 7 lbs. 15 oz. and was 21 inches long. She has beautiful black hair, a perfectly shaped head (thanks in part, I think, to my industrial strength membranes), and the most beautiful face. She is seriously the most beautiful baby I’ve ever laid eyes on. No bias here.

She’s also got vise-like latch. Ouch. But she’s a good nurser and a good sleeper. (more…)

(Thank you to fMh Lisa who invited me to guest blog.)

Several times on my mission, my companion and I would accidentally tract into members of the Church.  Usually they were easy to pick out by what they said to us when they came to the door or, sometimes, by the Mormonish art we could see from the door.  There was one exception.  As I look back, it was kind of obvious, but the expected clues weren’t there.

We knocked on a door, and someone around the age of 18 came to the door and said, “Hi!  They’re not here right now, but come on it!”

Okay…. We weren’t sure who “they” were, nor did we know who she was.  (My companion and I had been double-transferred into the ward about 3 weeks earlier, so she didn’t have any more clue than I did.)  But we went on in.  She kept talking as though we should know who she was.  I began to wonder if she had mistaken us for someone who “they” would know. Maybe Jehovah’s Witnesses. But we had those nametags on; we were easily identifiable. And yet she wasn’t giving any verbal clues that she was LDS or recognized us as such.  Yeah, those tags we wore… but….

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It’s always fun to blog about polygamy. A few months back, FMH guest Naiah asked whether polygamy was compatible with feminism, and a good discussion ensued. Others go further — recently, Serenity at LDSLF argued for outright legalization of polygamy. And some bloggers tend in the other direction — “not in this life or the next,” says Rebecca in a recent post. The breadth of posts illustrate the depth of the questions that polygamy raises for Mormons.

This particular post will focus on a more narrow and discrete topic: From a feminist perspective, is polyandry more or less acceptable than polygyny? (more…)

Sometimes I grow lax in saying my personal prayers each morning and night. It can be justified and excused by me ’till the cows come home, but the fact remains, it’s not right, or obedient, to skip something so important. It doesn’t matter at all that my days often start out with chaos ruled by 2 and 4 year olds who get up before me and try and fix their own breakfast, or that I have a new baby still counting her age in weeks, nor does it matter that all I really want at night is to fall, exhausted, into bed, and not make the long trip to my knees. 

So, like many of us, sometimes my prayers become a little stale. Sometimes I find myself reciting the same things to the Lord, without really feeling what I am praying over, because of bleary-eyed exhaustion, insane kids, or simply lack of focus. Even though I know every single thing is better in my life when I am reverent and diligent in my prayers, sometimes I still slack off. Sometimes mortality totally bites- we know what we should do, what makes life good, what soothes our souls and buoys us up, yet we still skip out. And we all do it sometimes.  (more…)

I’m American. My husband’s Australian. His sister is married to an Egyptian whose sister is married to an Iraqi. That means that I have two nieces and a nephew who have an American aunt and an Iraqi uncle. Ah,politics!

My Egyptian brother-in-law practices a form of Islam that is so strict, it makes the Taliban look moderate.  (more…)

“There was a time that my angry Feminism got in the way

of my even wanting to dress up and look like a woman.”

-Emma Thompson

Do you ever lie in bed at night, thinking about all the things you want to say and coming up with clever and creative ways to say them? Clever ways that utterly vanish when the real opportunity to express yourself actually presents? I’ve been doing that a lot lately, and while I want to blame it on lack of sleep and having three kids under 5, I honestly think this problem has plagued me my entire life. I am so glib, sharp and precise in my mind, and so often muddled, distracted and unclear in real life. Not fair. So lately I have been thinking about Feminism, and how I really feel about it.

The first time anyone asked me if I was a Feminist was at a natural foods store where I worked in Santa Cruz, California. I was 18. She was a co-worker of mine, and I was standing behind the bakery counter, making tea. Somewhat off-guard, I looked up and said that, no; I didn’t consider myself a Feminist. The verbal beating that ensued was shocking; she berated me for my position, belittled my intelligence, and basically concluded that I was repressed and misinformed, and once I loosened the shackles of my bondage, I would see things as she did. How’s that for a start? In a nutshell, this is, even today, my complaint about modern Feminism. (more…)

FMH ladies:

I love this blog and although I do not comment much, I really enjoy the posts and discussions. I’d be interested in seeing a discussion on the following editorial, from Jane Magazine, on LDS modesty.

Several of the issues raised in this editorial really hit home for me, and I have been a faithful church member all of my life. I would be interested to see how others respond.

The seemingly arbitrary LDS modesty standards have always confused me. I do not consider myself a “racy” girl. I’ve always had a great deal of self-respect (perhaps even too much self-respect!), and while I can understand the position that self-respecting women do not dress like hookers, what is so sinful in this dress (for example). (more…)

or, a book review of Natural Health after Birth: The Complete Guide to Postpartum Wellness, by Aviva Jill Romm

Nope, the baby’s not here yet. Soon, I hope. Very, very soon.

When we talked about my birth plan, pele recommended having a post-birth plan. Pele is very smart. Accordingly, I picked up a copy of Aviva Romm’s book, having chanced across it at the library, and I would like to recommend it to EVERY woman who will soon be post-partum. Really. It’s that good.

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Is there any relationship more complicated than that of mother and daughter? Is there any relationship more fraught with subtlety, unconscious actions, tension, expectation and love than that between a mother and a daughter?  (more…)

Riverbend just posted [August 5] a new entry on her amazing and heartrending Iraqi blog. Her latest entry [Summer of Goodbyes] talks of refugees and milititias and the living hell her country has become. She also posts about how life has changed for the women in her country:

“For me, June marked the first month I don’t dare leave the house without a hijab, or headscarf. I don’t wear a hijab usually, but it’s no longer possible to drive around Baghdad without one. It’s just not a good idea. (Take note that when I say ‘drive’ I actually mean ‘sit in the back seat of the car’- I haven’t driven for the longest time.) Going around bare-headed in a car or in the street also puts the family members with you in danger. You risk hearing something you don’t want to hear and then the father or the brother or cousin or uncle can’t just sit by and let it happen. I haven’t driven for the longest time. If you’re a female, you risk being attacked.”

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My history with friends is not so hot. The first time my so-called friends bailed on me was in fourth grade. The little clique of girls I played with, jumped rope with, and had sleepovers with, took me out to the far corner of the playground and informed me, en mass, that I was not allowed to be their friend anymore. Then they ran away from me, and continued to run away for the rest of the year. All of fourth grade and the better part of fifth grade was a miserable, lonely time. 

The next time my so-called friends bailed on me was in the first year of Junior High. I had the (mis)fortune of being in with a popular clique of girls, and one day, again en mass, everyone turned my picture around in their lockers, and proceeded to look right through me in the hallways. This time no one told me I was “out”, I wasn’t even given that courtesy, I just went from popular-girl to invisible-girl in one day. 

These two incidents, while easy to dismiss as mean girls being mean girls, twisted and gnarled the formation of my self-image and my ability to trust others. When one is ostracized, it affects everything; school work, activities, home life and most deeply, self-esteem. I remember wishing I was older, where more mature people wouldn’t treat friends with such cruelty. I couldn’t wait until I was grown up, and could leave behind the games. (Are you laughing?)  (more…)

SUMMARY of An Expanded Definition of Priesthood?: Some Present and Future Consequences by Meg Wheatley (W&A ch. 5)

The church is a large, complex, hierarchical organization and thus exposes us to many of the same organizational dynamics as other organizations. These organizational dynamics influence us. Focusing on some of these organizational dynamics could help predict what might occur if priesthood offices were extended to women. Priesthood is both a spiritual power and a bureaucratic phenomenon. Two intriguing questions:

1. What are some of the consequences we experience presently because women do not exercise priesthood?
2. If priesthood were exercised by women, would the nature of priesthood change?

The frame of analysis for this essay: the impact of structure on behavior. (more…)

Theology is not my specialty, but I have a theory. This has been my working theory for quite some time, and I don’t know if I have a doctrinal leg to stand on, but nonetheless, I feel I may be somewhere close enough to the truth to feel it’s hum. 

Here is my theory: Eventually, we are all saved. All of us. 

Now, I know that may fly in the face of some powerful history and possibly scripture. But I also think the power and love of the Lord and our Heavenly Father are so incomprehensibly immense, I cannot imagine it any other way. The Lord loves all of his children, and here on earth, in my microcosm of the Lord’s macrocosm, I can see through my own parenting how much I love my children. It is impossible this is less so for the Lord. I don’t think this is an easy prospect, nor do I think our concept of time has anything to do with it, however, when all is said and done, I believe we will all be there, with our God, once again. 

And here’s where you might think I’m off my rocker: I wonder if it’s possible even Satan will someday be forgiven.  (more…)

This link: Razor’s Edge - The Controversy of Female Genital Mutilation opens to an article about FGM in Sierra Leone, and how most of the opposition to ending the practice is centered in the women themselves. Secret Female societies promote and carry out the procedure. Women don’t respect other women who haven’t been ‘circumcised’. Even female politicians use it as a vote getting mechanism.

So many of the atrocities suffered by women over the years have been at the hands of other women — ourselves. Women wield the knives in Africa, the foot-binding cloth in China, the training for submission in so many ways in most of the world. We are the accomplices in our own pain, in our own mutilation, in our own supression.

So what is it? Culture? The expectations of the men? Lack of education? Women exploiting their power over other women? Ignorance? The price we pay to live in societies/cultures? [a better place for women IMO than anarchy] Or just another part of our sad and sorry human history?

As you know, August is the FMH Guest Post Extravaganza (!!!).  We’ve got a number of guest submissions queued up, and we hope you enjoy hearing the expanded chorus of voices this month.  Never let it be said that we aren’t a blog by, of, and for FMHs everywhere!  First up is Sue:

I had a disturbing experience today.

We had a special meeting to divide two of the (gigantic) wards in our stake into three wards. At the meeting, after disclosing the new boundaries, the priesthood leaders in each ward - bishopric, EQ, High Priests, etc. - were specifically released (when a change was made) and their replacements sustained. A few of the men were then invited to speak to those assembled. Then the meeting ended.

The women were not mentioned at all, unless you count when they said that all other people in all other callings should assume that they had been released. We left the meeting not knowing who the RS Presidency was, who the Primary President was - nothing. I’m not sure why the women were even invited, so non-essential are the duties we perform, apparently.

Why must we sustain priesthood leadership like the High Priest Group Leader in stake meetings, and yet not the far more crucial callings of RS and Primary President? Why are we secondary?

I am flummoxed.

You already know I’m an adult convert to the LDS church. Sometimes this fact gives me an, if not unique, perhaps broader, perspective on things within the Church. A recent post by Artemis got me thinking a little about my past, and how cohesive that past is, or is not, with my present spiritual state.

Artemis writes of the ritual of a Blessingway, and ponders if perhaps there is room within the LDS culture for such woman-centered ritual. It was interesting to me, partly because what she was describing was very much like rituals I took part in on several occasions years ago. (And I know this is not the direction Artemis was taking; these are simply my thoughts on female-rituals) (more…)