Unapologetic

Generally speaking, labels are dumb. They give us boxes for people to fit into, and when they don’t, our whole world seems to lose it’s order. But sometimes they’re helpful. So I like labeling myself, because I seem contradictory sometimes. It’s fun to tell you that I’m both Baptist and a progressive. Sure, that means I generally reject the Southern Baptist Convention’s platform, but I am still a Baptist in the American South. But one of the labels I have worn longer than some others is feminist. I am an unapologetic feminist.

And I’m done with justifying that fact.

Whether they have ever worn the label as I do, I know I was raised by feminists, who were also raised with feminist values. The women in my family are strong, and they have married men who love them for their strength, not in spite of it, teaching their daughters and granddaughters to follow that example. Before becoming unapologetic about feminism, I was afraid to tell even my dad that I wore this label. When I did, he just sort of looked at me like, “And why would I have a problem with that?” I think he may have even said that. Really, I should have known. At Christmas when I was 18, I got a lecture from his 85 year old father about how Republicans are trying to take away my rights as a woman. At 18, I was still naive enough to think he was being dramatic. But obviously he wasn’t. I’m scared of what will happen in the next four years, less so for myself than for others who do not look like me. While I am glad he did not have to watch the nation that he was willing to die for when he joined the Navy in 1943 set off on a potential path of self-destruction, I do wish I could hear one more rant from my grandfather on that topic.

I have justified feminism to so many people. “It’s really not that crazy.” I have even used arguments like, “Well, I’m not that kind of feminist.” What’s funny is, I usually am that kind of feminist. But I want to be heard, and I’m afraid you’ll shut me out if I admit that I believe in that feminist ideal, whatever it may be. But that’s a stupid way to make me feel. Because I deserve to be treated with the same respect and dignity as every man. I shouldn’t ever have to apologize for that. So I won’t. Not anymore.

I mostly apologized because people have believed that feminism is not compatible with Christianity. Excuse my language, but that’s a load of bullshit. Sorry y’all, God did not make me with any less care and dignity than a man. He did not create me simply to produce babies for you. If He had, He wouldn’t have made me who I am. Let’s be real: Ruth and Naomi took care of themselves. Esther was married to a dude who wanted to kill her people, and she stopped it. God even used Rahab, a prostitute, and her sexuality for His glory. The first people to see the resurrected Christ were women. Every time Jesus interacted with a woman, He treated her with so much respect and dignity that those around him were confused by it. God did not make women to be less than men. So explain to me why my feminism is incompatible with my faith.

So now the thing you would expect a feminist post to be about this weekend. Please don’t tune me out now because you don’t agree with me. If you’ve made it this far, you obviously respect me enough to hear me out. So understand this: while the Women’s March on Washington and its sister marches are not without controversy even among those of us who oppose Trump, they are an attempt to show dissent over the way he has demonstrated that he will treat the marginalized. If you don’t get it, try talking to those of us that do. No one marching thinks that because they marched Donald Trump will not be President. That’s not the point. The point is to say, “Hey, we’re not going to approve this kind of treatment.” This entire country is founded on the idea that if you don’t like what your government is doing, you can protest to demonstrate your dissent. That’s what the march is about. People saying, “No, you don’t get to treat us like this without opposition.” If you still don’t understand and would like to, I am perfectly open to a conversation. Just don’t expect me to change my mind or to apologize for feminism.

I haven’t even touched on intersectionality, and I apologize for that. But just know, I love to listen to intersectional perspectives. Show me where my privilege has made me blind to something. I am also an ally to so many other things. Feminism is simply where it began for me.

I’m not apologizing for believing in my own worth. Feminism does not make me a victim. It only makes my strength more apparent.

How Could We Let That Happen

Many times when I tell people that I majored in [modern European] history in undergrad, I wind up in conversations concerning WWII and the Holocaust. This is fine with me, because if I’m honest, that was part of my whole interest in that time period. But a recurring line of questioning people have for me is, “How could we let that happen? Did we just not know? Did we not know how bad it was? Did we not care? Surely we just didn’t have all the information?” While there are a million ways to answer that historically, such as explaining that anti-semitism was not a purely German problem, or that the United States was not the world super power that it is today, as WWII helped to cement that super power status (these questions come from fellow Americans, so the “we” is often “America”), I will allow historians better qualified than myself to make those arguments. Instead I want to address the naivety of these questions.

Humans want to think the best of our fellow human. Really, I think we do. It has to do with our need to see ourselves as individuals as morally righteous, strangely enough. It’s also about who we consider our “fellow human.” We can’t imagine a reality in which our ancestors are less compassionate than ourselves, and we absolutely believe that we are the most moral humans to walk the Earth. Even though there is an obvious fallacy in this logic, it does get one thing right: we are no more compassionate than our ancestors.

The aforementioned conversation comes up because the Holocaust is widely considered the greatest atrocity committed by man. Don’t mistake me for downplaying its importance: the systematic slaughter of approximately six million Jews, and approximately five million more individuals is completely sickening. It is absolutely a genocide with which the world must continue to reckon. We can never ever forget it, and Holocaust deniers should be put in their place.

However, it is not the only instance of humans ignoring the plights of others.

None of the others should be forgotten either, and in fact, we need them for the context of understanding how we could let the Holocaust happen. I can not possibly list them all. I’m not even covering all of history, and I will absolutely be excluding many examples from the time period I will cover. Yet I will try to make my point with the examples I have chosen.

The Indian Removal Act of 1830 was just one of the measures taken to ensure the genocide and systematic oppression of indigenous people groups in the United States. The Trail of Tears is a specific example of the cruelty these people faced. Forced to leave their home, the Cherokee were “relocated” from the mountains of North Carolina and Georgia to the plains of Oklahoma, many dying along the way. It didn’t end there. The government continued to systematically oppress and control indigenous people groups, including most recently the debacle of Standing Rock. How could we let that happen?

Similarly, the aboriginal people in Australia were decimated by colonialism. Their numbers fell from well over half a million people to fewer than 50,000 during British colonization, leaving far less than 10% of their original population. They were killed both intentionally and carelessly. They were targeted further during the 20th Century by separating 20,000-25,000 aboriginal children from their families with the intent to cause the aboriginal people to die out. How could we let that happen?

In 1845, the Potato Famine began and plagued Ireland until 1852. A million people died as a result and just as many emigrated, many to the United States, where they were still systematically discriminated against. Ireland was under English rule at the time, and England did not lift a finger to help. The Irish had already suffered at the hands of the English, with attempts to stamp out any sense of Irish culture, including language. Despite measures taken to do so, such as teaching children the Gaelic language, the country has still not fully recovered from English rule, nor the Potato Famine itself. How could we let that happen?

Around the same time as WWI, the Ottoman Empire systematically killed its Armenian citizens. Although recognized as genocide by the description of genocide given by the UN, very few nations have officially recognized it as such, the United States not included in that short list. Turkey has taken an official stance of denial, although individual citizens and groups of the nation have attempted to denounce the event and their nation’s role. How could we let that happen?

During the 1990s, Serbian forces murdered Bosnian Muslims as part of an ethnic cleansing campaign. Some estimates account for over 100,000 killed in the conflict. To read one story from a woman who actually made it out alive, click here. As she points out, few people she grew up with after finally being accepted to the United States even knew about Yugoslavia’s existence. We refused to see what happened for what it was and lived in ignorance. How could we let that happen?

In 1994, the Hutu led Rwandan government led a genocide against the Tutsis which killed somewhere between 500,000 and 1,000,000 Rwandans. Although a short lived conflict and genocide, it killed a significant number of the population of Rwanda. How could we let that happen?

The Sudan conflict has been an on and off fixture for well over 50 years and continues today. In the late 1980s and into the 1990s, the Lost Boys of Sudan were shuffled from country to country in their attempt to live and not be murdered. It took many years for first world nations to take note and respond. By then, many had died on their journeys from Sudan to Ethiopia to Kenya. 10,000 young Sudanese men arrived in Kenya in the early 1990s. It was finally determined it would not be feasible for them to return to their homes and families, at which point some were taken in as refugees in the United States. But only after years of ignoring their plight. How could we let that happen?

Do you get it yet? Do you see where I’m going with this?

In 2011, the Arab Spring began. It was a movement in many Arab nations that caused revolutionaries to protest their governments. In Syria, it led to war. That war is ongoing. Just this week, the government took back Aleppo, a rebel stronghold. Civilians, including young children have been slaughtered in this war. The number will only continue to grow, despite the fall of Aleppo having been speculated as an indication that the war is coming to an end. The people who have managed to get out of Syria have often been met with hostility by people of other nations. These are people who would have stayed in Syria forever if they had felt that they could. They left because they saw no other option, and yet the west as a whole has rejected them.

How could we let this happen?

Until you can answer that question concerning Syria or any of the other events that happened in your lifetime, you have no moral ground over your ancestors. That’s where that question comes from anyway. We want to believe that we’re better. That humanity is better. That maybe somehow we are more human than in the past, making these horrific events impossible now. In hindsight with the Holocaust, we see so clearly where we failed (“we” in this case being both Americans and the world at large). Surely we wouldn’t do the same thing today, right? Right?? But as you can clearly see, it’s a pattern of human behavior with no end in sight. So stop asking that question of others who can not respond. Ask it of yourself. Until the world recognizes that we have a duty to our fellow human, whether that person looks like us or not, we can not hope to understand love and human decency. I’m as guilty as anyone. I’m in a master of social work program and want to actually do something about these things, but I get it wrong all the time. I miss seeing the hurting people around me because I’m scared of the responsibility that goes with recognizing it. But I have to. We all have to.

How can we let this happen? Again?

Cupcakes and Jealousy

By all traditional accounts, I was not popular in high school. I was really into band, and most of the people I hung out with were part of the band crowd, too. Theoretically, the band kids should have been my best friends. That wasn’t always the case. There was an incident on my seventeenth birthday that I have honestly given a lot of thought since it happened. It’s probably just because I’m the type of person who searches for meaning in everything, but I really do think there’s something to learn in this.

I had a friend who was seemingly every high school stereotype that I was not. To use simply the stereotypes to make my point, she was a cheerleader and popular, while I was a self-proclaimed band nerd. Let’s be real–those aren’t the types of high school students everyone expects to be friends. Not only that, but she was a year ahead of me in school, adding more distance between us. Despite all of this, I truly considered this girl my friend.

On my birthday, this friend had made me cupcakes and brought them to school for me. We didn’t even have a class together, but she left them with a teacher we both had at different times. It wasn’t about the cupcakes, but I was so excited and felt so loved by this friend who by all stereotypical expectations wouldn’t have cared one bit about my birthday. I told literally anyone who would listen for the rest of the day, “She made me cupcakes!”

My last class of the day was band. Because of the time of year of my birthday, we were preparing for graduation. As a junior marshal that year, I didn’t have to play at graduation, and the seniors didn’t play most of it, so I and several of the senior girls were sitting in another room while the rest of the class was in rehearsal.

To be honest, I don’t think any of these girls except one or two even acknowledged my birthday was that day. But they were supposed to be my friends, right? They were band kids just like me. We had things in common. But that’s not even the point of this story. No, the point was the response when I told them about my cupcakes.

“I don’t like her. She’s a bitch.”

Really?

I thought, “What the heck has she ever done to you?”

I couldn’t even tell you who said it, but it didn’t really matter because there were murmurs of agreement around the room. This was what these girls thought was the right thing to say in response to who had cared so much about me that she made me cupcakes. Most of them never even wished me a happy birthday.

I’m non-confrontational, so my only regret is that I didn’t challenge them more. I simply said, “Well, I do. She made me cupcakes,” as though that settled it, and then forced the conversation to another topic.

The point of this story isn’t to tear into these senior band girls. I don’t talk to any of them anymore. Some of them were truly people I once considered friends, but I can’t tell you much about any of them now. Their jealousy was evident in more than this instance, and I had no interest in continuing such toxic friendships.

My friend who had made the cupcakes, however, continued to be important to me. Not only that, but she is someone I truly admire to this day. She is kind and intelligent, and I know that she will do amazing, life-changing things in this world. I am beyond grateful that she and I both were able to see beyond the stereotypical outward appearances and expectations of high school.

Friends are the people who support you and stand by your side always, not the people who others assume should be your friends. I strive to be the type of friend who makes cupcakes, not the one who jealously declares the cupcake friend a bitch. I think that’s something we should all want in life.

On “Wanting a Rory”

This is a bit of a random topic, but it’s one I’ve thought about enough that I wanted to put words to my thoughts.

As a self-proclaimed “nerd-girl,” I like to keep up with other nerds on the internet (wait, why don’t I have a Tumblr?), so I’ve noticed a lot of fellow Whovians say that they “want a Rory.” But I disagree. I want to BE a Rory (In fact, if we’re talking about a mate, I would prefer a male version of Amy anyway). If you’re sticking with me through this, and you haven’t seen a single episode, I’ll attempt to explain this somewhat briefly.

I started watching Doctor Who when the reboot was in its seventh season. I started from the beginning of the reboot, and even though I keep telling myself I’ll check out some Classic Who, I haven’t really done it. The seventh season of the reboot was during the Eleventh Doctor’s reign. When I started watching, his companions were Amy and Rory, the Ponds. Even though I started from the beginning, the Christmas special in 2012 was the first episode I watched when it was aired, so I consider the Eleventh Doctor to sort of be “my” doctor. (But I love all four I’ve seen almost equally.) The Ponds are also the only companions that I said goodbye to almost with everyone else, so they’re a bit special. Amy and Rory join the Eleventh Doctor pretty much as soon as he regenerates (I’m not going to explain the whole show so you’ll have to learn about regeneration on your own if needed) and Amy is the one who originally runs away with the Doctor. From the beginning, I loved Amelia Pond. I thought she was smart, sassy, kind, and adventurous. In comparison, Rory Williams gets played like a sad puppy at first, who seems to only want to be where Amy goes. The Doctor begins calling them “The Ponds” once they get married, and even though Rory starts to argue, he gives in immediately. I don’t care about who takes whose last name at all, but I wasn’t impressed with Rory’s character because I thought he was just being Amy’s shadow.

Oh, how I would come to change my mind.

Whovians like to debate who the “best” Doctor is. Or the “best” companion. I don’t care about the best, but my favorite companion is Rory. (Donna comes in a close second, but I like to forget about what happened to her… just like she did) Rory is the truly kind one in this relationship. His fiance literally runs away with another man the night before their wedding, proceeds to kiss him, and yet Rory still loves her and marries her (yeah, a lot more happens in between that and the wedding, like the entire universe getting rebooted, but time: it’s wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey). Rory also grows to love the Doctor as a friend. No matter what either Amy or the Doctor does that would piss off most people, Rory continues to love them both. At first, I saw this as a weakness. I thought he was too obsessed with Amy. He didn’t want much else, as long as he could love her. I wanted him to walk away from the crap they put him through. Eventually, though, I realized that I understood Rory, and if I saw love as a strength, then Rory has been just as strong as any other companion who traveled with the Doctor.

I say I want to be a Rory because Rory is always the first to rush to an individual’s aid. It doesn’t matter if the Doctor, Amy, and River are all there with him, Rory is always the first. Sure, it could be argued that this is because he’s a nurse, so he’s taking care of their physical needs, but even in the two part episode, The Rebel Flesh/The Almost People, Rory is the first of all characters to consider treating the “others” as equals and listening to their side of things. I mean, come on, the man even tried to help a dalek! And that wasn’t even he first time he had met one! It’s not like he didn’t know they were hate monsters. While the Doctor gets caught up in saving the entire world, Amy runs with him, but Rory focuses on how he can serve the person standing in front of him. Rory often reminds them that there’s more than all their grand plans, and that sometimes you need to recognize the small victories as important and valuable.

Also, Rory is so chill. He rolls with everything. Despite being the most down to earth and always being aware of all the things he shouldn’t be okay with, he just accepts it and moves on. One example of this is the episode when they go back to meet Hitler (and accidentally save him). Even though Rory makes a few jokes about the whole situation to point out how ridiculous it all is, he just rolls with it. Granted, all of them roll with it in this episode, but Rory is probably the only one who consistently seems to accept things he knows are insane. I’ve certainly never punched Hitler in the face, told him to shut up, and then locked him in a cupboard (I’m not even going into all the ways Rory is a badass), but stressful things still happen in a normal life. I’ve started to adopt his strategy of cracking a joke at something that stresses me out, and it works pretty well. I doubt I’ll ever achieve the level of chill that Rory emanates, but I will also, sadly, never travel in the T.A.R.D.I.S. so that’s probably okay.

Amy is originally portrayed as much more adventurous than Rory, but I think this is meant to be misleading. I think he just knows that he loves her, and it’s upsetting that she has doubts and decides to run away with the Doctor. It’s as though he’s not enough. And for two seasons, I had doubts that either of them really thought he was enough for her, but all my fears were ended in Asylum of the Daleks. Despite my doubts, I was not happy to see them getting divorced when that episode began. Did 2,000 years outside of a box really mean nothing to Amy? What about Rory being the most beautiful man Amy had ever met? Did none of that matter? Well, as we learn at the climax of the whole episode, of course, Amy “gave him up.” She did love him. Without explaining it all (because it requires a full history of the Ponds), Rory even tells Amy, “Basic fact of our relationship is that I love you more than you love me.” At this point in the episode I was basically like, “YES, FINALLY SOMEONE SAID IT,” but in typical Amy fashion, she abruptly informs you that’s a lie. In Amy’s eyes, she was no longer enough for Rory. She’s basically telling him deserves better than what she has to offer. Never fear though, Rory lets her know that he disagrees and would rather be with her than anyone else.

I want to be a Rory. Instead of “wanting a Rory” like so many others seem to, I want to be the one who loves unconditionally and never stops to think about who is and is not worthy of that love. Amy on the other hand, needs him to tell her that he doesn’t give a damn about whether or not she thinks she’s worthy. He’s decided she is and nothing can change that. I say I want a male version of Amy because I don’t think that two Rory’s in a relationship would make it, but Amy is certainly more than enough for Rory. I think their love for one another makes them worthy of each other’s love, but it doesn’t matter, because they will love each other anyway.

I guess I understand saying that you want a Rory, but I’d rather focus on possessing more of the good qualities that Rory has.

P.S. I think I failed on the “brief” explanation, but I could have gone on longer, so at least I limited myself that much?

P.P.S. I know that aside about Donna was heartbreaking. Sorry. Still crying about that ending.

Singapore!

First of all, I’d like to thank Michelle for asking me to blog about going to Singapore. With this in mind, I could keep my mind open to things that I could write about. The only problem is that now I don’t know where to start.

This past July, I went to Singapore, which is here:

We were in Singapore for the Baptist World Alliance Youth Conference, so I’m going to talk about my experience both at the conference and in Singapore itself.

Starting Monday morning, we drove to Charlotte to get on a flight to LaGuardia, then we took a bus to JFK and flew to Frankfurt, then reboarded the same plane after it had maintenance to get to Singapore. By the time we landed, it was early Wednesday morning, and I was super jet-lagged. I just didn’t feel it too bad until later that day.

We did some sightseeing on Wednesday, but I’m pretty sure everyone in our group would say that they were too tired to retain very much of it. One thing I do remember pretty well was our trip to Chinatown. There, we went in a Buddhist temple, and I got kicked out. In my tired state, I didn’t realize that my shorts needed to reach my knees to enter, so I hadn’t put on the skirt-like covering that they had for visitors. Once I realized this, I felt bad about my accidental lack of respect. But it was definitely an interesting experience. Our guide told us that in the Chinatown in Singapore, there were four different places of worship in a very small area. There was the Buddhist temple that I visited, a Muslim mosque, a Hindu temple, and a Christian church. For me, this was a pretty good representation of the diversity in Singapore. It was one of those places that seems to have cultural elements of many different places in the world, and yet they can coexist peacefully. I was really pretty amazed by the country and my entire experience there in this respect. Everything was in a state of coexistence.

At dinner, the jet-lag hit me like a train. I felt absolutely terrible, so I actually missed the opening celebration of the Conference (which I had been really excited about going to) so that I could sleep it off. 😦 But as a result, I was rested and ready for the rest of the trip, and in the end, that was probably worth it.

As I said, I was well rested when I woke up on Thursday and headed to breakfast at our hotel. Food options included, but were not limited to, salads, pastries, rice, noodles, fruits (including some that I had never had before), pancakes, and French toast. Even breakfast was a diversified experience, and I got a little adventurous. But only a little.

Our schedules on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday at the Conference were largely the same. We started the morning in a worship service with all the others who were attending the conferences. From there we broke up into family groups. My sister and I were in the same group, which was not exactly what either of us had in mind, but we both really enjoyed our small group, so it was perfectly fine in the end. There were lots of great moments at the conference, but one of my favorite things from the whole trip happened in small group on Friday. Our group split into smaller groups to pray for one another. After we prayed, my smaller group started talking, and the conversation wound up being extremely encouraging for me. Many of the same issues that I’ve been having with the church and, as a result, sometimes my faith, were things that concerned people from all over the world. Despite the fact that seeing these concerns as an issue all over the world might seem like it would be discouraging, it was actually encouraging to know that there were others who felt the same way I do. Even though the world is big and diverse, we’re all human and have basic things in common, and that’s beautiful.

All three days we had an evening worship, which was amazing. Some of the songs we sang during worship were sung in multiple languages (the primary language of the conference was English) which was super cool (I’m running out of ways to say that something was awesome, so bear with me), and all of our speakers came from all over the world.

On Thursday and Friday afternoon, there were various seminars for people to attend. My favorite one was one on women in the sex trade. It wasn’t uplifting, obviously, but it was very interesting and definitely stirred something inside me. I’ve found that I care about this topic more and more, and I definitely found value in what was said on the topic. I’m not sure what all this means for me yet, but I know it means something for my life.

On Saturday afternoon, we did something that was very familiar to our group: we packaged food for Stop Hunger Now. I feel like this is everywhere now, and it was really cool to even do it so far from home. I can’t remember exactly how many meals we packaged, but it was A LOT.

Also on Saturday, our church group went to the Singapore Flyer (which is the big ferris wheel in Singapore). Unfortunately for me, I don’t do heights, so I chose not to ride it. Instead, I waited alone at the bottom for everyone else to get done, which was an interesting experience. Basically, I was alone in a foreign country, without a phone or any internet or any way of contacting anyone I knew. It’s not like I’ve never been alone or without any access to a phone or internet, but never all at once quite like this. I was also surrounded by some things I wasn’t used to. That was actually one of the most interesting experiences I had while there. Most all the stores around the Flyer were closed at that time, so I had to just chill out somewhere and not be vulnerable. I’m always fairly aware of my surroundings but I was hyper-aware while waiting for the rest of my church group.

Sunday morning was the closing of the conference, so after that we had the rest of the trip for sightseeing. We spent most of our afternoon in Little India. I got a henna tattoo there (which is gone now). The most interesting thing about Little India for me was how crowded the streets were, and there were very few Indian women out. Apparently Sundays are like that in Little India, but it was actually pretty overwhelming. It was as crowded as the inside of the Dean Dome after a basketball game and everyone is trying to get outside. Everywhere a person could fit and walk, there was somebody there. I didn’t feel overwhelmed by the number of people around me anywhere except here.

Monday was our last day, but we didn’t leave until late that night, so we explored some more during the day. The highlight of that day for me was going to the Gardens by the Bay. We only walked through a small portion of these gardens, but it was beautiful.

Our return trip began Monday night in Singapore and ended Tuesday night at home. We were delayed a bit, but all was well and we got back home safely!

Singapore was amazing because while I was there, I feel like I learned more about my faith, myself, and another culture. I knew next to nothing about Singapore before I went, but now I know a few more interesting facts about it, such as the fact that the country turns 48 this month (August)–so Happy Birthday Singapore! I absolutely love learning about the rest of the world, and I hope that I can learn more about Singapore and the region of the world it’s in. I could talk about even more that happened on my trip, so please ask me to!

Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

I thought I’d do something a little more lighthearted since the last two posts I’ve made certainly were not. And I don’t want to be a downer. 😦 Anyway.

For anyone who doesn’t already know this, I’m a huge geek. I think I’m a pretty cool geek, but a geek all the same. So a lot of the things I get excited about are pretty nerdy. I’ll probably talk about different ones as time goes on, but one of my absolute favorite fandoms is Harry Potter. I. Love. It. I mean seriously, I could talk for hours about it. But I usually don’t. Because that’s not generally acceptable, except with other nerds. I started reading Harry Potter when I was 9. I was 19 when I saw Deathly Hallows Part 2 in theaters. I know it’s so typical of people my age, but yes, I feel like I grew up with Harry Potter. And yes, I did cry during that last movie. Partially because it was sad, but also because finally, after 10 long years of Harry Potter, it was over. No more books, no more movies. I still haven’t been to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter at Universal, so I still have that to look forward to, but still. The story is done.

Okay, I get that some people might not understand why I’m so obsessed with a children’s story. Except I feel like you don’t understand Harry Potter if so. It’s so much more than the plot line. Rowling addresses so many social issues throughout the books that are completely relevant to our world. The pureblood vs. muggle-born debate is so obviously a way of addressing equality that it can almost be overlooked. But I think this is important. There’s inequality all over the world, and I think it’s our responsibility as human beings to fight inequality. I know that Harry Potter helped show me this.

Hermione helped me find myself. Goodness, I was one of the biggest know-it-alls I’ve ever known. But like Hermione, I’ve met people along the way who helped mellow me out a little (at least I think I’m more laid back about it). Even her physical description was enough like me that I basically thought I was her. Frizzy brown hair? Yup. I got that. One of the things I love the most about her is that she’s actually a female character who exists without any more support from the male characters than the support she gives to them. What I mean is that she’s an equally independent and complex character as any male character. This type of female character doesn’t exist in all of literature, yet here she is in this story.

The chapter in which [spoiler alert if you actually need it/care] Harry is walking to his [kind of] death is quite honestly one of my favorite chapters I’ve ever read. I have no idea what it would be like to actually know that you are about to sacrifice your life for everyone you know and to know that there are so many possible futures that you can never experience. But I’d imagine it would actually be similar to what is described in this chapter. For me it reads as though he is taking in every last bit of the world around him. It pains him to know that he has to leave it all behind, but that’s just it: he has to. And he’s willing to give up his life to save everything. And, yeah, [once again spoiler] he makes it through, but he doesn’t know he’s going to. The sacrifice is real.

I could go on and on about all of these things and more, but ultimately, love is the central message of the story. Love is what triumphs over the evil every time. I honestly can not think of an instance in which love was not the reason for the victory of good. So maybe this is part of why I believe so strongly in love. Love defines us and shapes us. There’s a reason I’ve highlighted 1 Corinthians 13 on this blog. That’s what that verse is about: love. So really, I guess the main reason I love Harry Potter so much is that it’s about love of all kinds. After all, what are we without love?

Yeah, I know I got kind of serious, but it was fun, right? I mean, it’s Harry Potter! And to finish it all, I’ll leave you with this one last quote (be glad I limited myself to only the few I did use).

(Also, I got almost all the images from Pinterest.)

More Than Pretty Faces in a Congregation

Interestingly enough, I started writing this and THEN came across this article which is worth a read. It’s a lot better than my short little blurb, but I’m just trying to write this from my own perspective and his is a bit different, so here goes:

When Christian men, particularly preachers, describe their wives as “smoking hot,” I cringe. I really do. Why, you ask? Isn’t it just a compliment? Well, it’s bad when this is their immediate thought to describe their wives, as though this is what truly matters about who she is. I can not tell you how many times I have listened to a preacher who has been getting ready to start their sermon and one of the first things he does is tell all the young impressionable students listening how “smoking hot” his wife is. Quite honestly, this does nothing to build the kingdom of God, it really serves no purpose in speaking His word. Not only that, but it also perpetuates this idea that the physical beauty of a woman is the most important quality that she can possess.

When a fifteen year old Christian girl hears that, she hears, “I’m a respected male Christian leader, and I love my wife because of her outward beauty.” This then translates in her head to, “Since this Christian leader thinks like this, a man of any background will only love me if I’m physically appealing.” It either leaves her feeling rejected or obsessed with her appearance. I know because it wasn’t that long ago that I was in that place. This kind of value on physical beauty is just so damaging to a girl’s self-esteem. Is beauty really better than kindness or intelligence? Than, quite simply, being a good, caring person? Many facets of our society say so, but where does the Church come down on this? In my experience, there’s been a slight contradiction among leaders. It leaves young Christian women confused. I wish we lived in a Christian community that did not force young women to constantly repeat the mantra of 1 Peter 3:3-4 in order to stop worrying so much about their outward beauty. I’m not saying we shouldn’t use this verse, I’m just saying it shouldn’t HAVE to be used so frequently to comfort women who don’t know how to view their own outward appearance.

I’m not saying we can’t try to look good. I like dressing up periodically. I like feeling pretty. I like getting non-demeaning compliments. I just also like to be appreciated for more than my appearance. So stop perpetuating the issue. If you’re married and want to brag about your wife, please find a way that is not demeaning to do so. If you want to compliment a woman, do so without demeaning her. But never ever let your actions or words suggest that a woman’s value lies in her appearance.

God Help the Outcasts

This wasn’t at all what I thought my first blog would be about, but after creating this six or seven months ago, I finally have something I care enough about to write on. 

I guess the best way to start this is to explain what actually prompted this. Today in one of my classes, our professor started talking about the Roma people in Europe. There has been a prejudice against these people ever since their arrival in Europe, so they have been nomadic due to persecution. All this is upsetting, but what really got to me was when something was said about the nations having issues with these people due to social problems such as prostitution. Shortly after that statement, a student said that some governments refuse to educate these same Roma girls. Here’s the thing: research shows that lack of education leads to higher risk of prostitution. In almost all cases of prostitution, it’s forced upon the girls. Or maybe it’s all they know. But they didn’t wake up one morning and think, “I want to sell my body to make my living.” Ultimately, these governments are compounding their own problems. They want to end the prostitution, but they don’t want to educate the girls who are at risk. Where’s the sense in that?

Until this moment, the End It Movement that I have seen so much about recently had not hit home for me. Yes I thought ending slavery and prostitution altogether was/is a good thing. A great thing to strive for. But did I really find a personal reason to want to help? If I’m being honest, not really.

This isn’t some new problem that is isolated to the issue of prostitution. Governments and societies have been doing this for ages. So many issues turn into self-fulfilling prophecies. In some ways, this is a pretty good summary of my classes this semester. Besides this topic, which came up in my geography class, my women and gender history class often points out ways that society has compounded their own gender issues through legislation and expectations. I’m also in a history of the Holocaust class, which speaks for itself. As these classes point out, humans expect something to happen, create the environment for it to happen, and then simply accept those happenings when they do occur. Just because these things have been happening forever, doesn’t make them okay. As a friend said when I talked to her about this issue, if we just stuck with the status quo, women would have never entered the workforce, and this change has been beneficial to our society and individuals.

Why am I saying all this? Well, what it all comes back to for me personally, is a thought that I’ve had on my mind since reading it voiced by someone else (I can’t remember who and even tried to Google it so I could give credit). There’s this idea that Christians (which I am) are more concerned with BEING right than DOING right. This is not every individual, but often, it is the front that we give off. At the risk of some backlash, it upsets me that there was such a bandwagon Christian movement to inform others of what is right and wrong, but many times we ignore the needs of this world. We are called to love our world. I’m glad that even though I haven’t done a thing for it beyond this blog post yet, the End It Movement is taking hold so strongly, as it seeks to actually do something.

I also realize that I might sound a bit judgy or possibly like I think I have all the answers. I strongly believe that if it were simple, these issues would be solved already. They’re not, obviously. But it does nothing to stand by and watch bad things happen to people. I’m guilty of doing this all the time both for fear of failing and for the simple fact that I alone can not fix the entire problem. I’m learning that it really is okay to care even if I can’t do it all. 

In the end, we’re all responsible for the fate of our world, and every little thing can help. I’m learning, and with time, I’m hoping to stand up more for the things that I believe in. Also, this is the song that I hear in my head whenever I think about these kinds of issues.