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I’m not going to use the word “misogyny” after this line right here. Other people have called him stronger things: sexist, homophobic, even racist. For a lot of people those terms have a tinge of intention to them (you can’t be, say, a sexist, without intentionally trying to push women down), and I’m honestly not sure that’s what’s going on here. But here’s the thing: you don’t have to go nearly that far to cross into what John Watson would call a bit not good.

In fact, I’ll go better: privilege is bad. And in my humble assessment, it’s at least one of Mr. Moffat’s biggest problems.

Let’s start with the obvious: Steven Moffat is a fanboy. If there’s any question on this point, consider his recent statement in a TOR piece on “The Sign of Three”:

Read the rest of this entry » )

Originally published at Faith Seeking Understanding. You can comment here or there.

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It's not often that I follow books coming out. I wait with baited breath for movies (Hobbit! Twilight! Catching Fire! *goes splodey*), and I'm always on the lookout for new music that's to my rather eclectic tastes. But books --fun books, popular press-- for whatever reason I don't read them as much as I used to. Chalk it up to reading so much for school, that by the end of the day all I want to do is stare at a screen.

All of which makes it odd that I'm so excited about two books, each coming out in the same month, each concerning religious topics and probably marketed to a fairly religious audience. They're also looking at some social inequalities (sexism for the first one, homophobia for the second) and how they play out in American evangelical Christianity.

One of those authors could use a bit of support just now. Rachel Held Evans, whose interview of a stay-at-home dad I recommended last night, tried to take all of the Bible's commandments for women (Old Testament and New) as literally as she could. Based on the sample bits I've read (I can't speak for the whole book yet), it seems to be more than straight memoir. It's more about her struggle on how to view herself as a woman, how her experiences changed how she understood "biblical womanhood." She's funny and humble and open-minded, and it makes for a good book, at least based on what I've seen. For the record, Rachel was an egalitarian going into this, and she's still one.

(Read about the project here, pre-order it at Amazon, and don't miss the reviews of it at NPR, Slate, and the Oprah blog.)

I don't want to get into a big debate over whether the Bible supports egalitarianism, or whether following the Bible literally is a good way to understand what it teaches, or any of that. I'm talking about Rachel's book because Vaginagate is rearing its ugly head again. Back when she was getting her book ready for publication, her publisher wanted her to take out the word "vagina." Christian bookstores are infamously persnickety, and there was a concern that if she included the word (which is appropriate in the context, btw) some Christian bookstores would refuse to carry it. Rachel was initially prepared to edit it out, but as she describes here eventually decided that was the wrong move:

In the wake of Lifeway’s highly-publicized ban of the movie “The Blind Side,” and after speaking with some industry insiders, I wrote a blog post in July about Lifeway’s influence on the Christian publishing industry, explaining how its standards not only affect the highly sanitized inventory we find on Christian bookstore shelves, but also which books are contracted by publishers, what content gets edited in the writing and editing process, and the degree of freedom authors feel they have to speak through their own platforms.


Whatever you think of Rachel's project or the Christian publishing industry, I hope we can all agree this is a trend worth fighting. And she's paying a price for it: the major Christian bookstore Lifeway isn't carrying the book. Other Christian bookstores are, and you can get it on Amazon + Barnes and Nobles, and certainly by request anywhere. Or you can take the rather hilarious approach suggested in the comments at Rachel's blog by several ex-Lifeway sales clerks: pre-order a few copies through Lifeway (they're doing special orders, not just stocking it normally), then only buy the one so they have to put the remainder on their shelves for other people to buy. They'll only charge you for the ones you actually buy.

Whether you buy it or not, and however you buy it, it might not be a bad idea to stop by her blog and show your support. Unlike most blogs and articles, I actually can recommend the comments at her site - I'd say they're the best part, but the main posts rock, too. And censorship always sucks, whatever its form. I'm sure she'd appreciate an encouraging note and/or a preorder, if you're so inclined.

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The other book is Tim Kurek's The Cross and the Closet, which is available from the publisher, Amazon, B+N, and all the other usual places. It's coming out on I think the tenth. I've just finished the preprint Tim gave me and will be writing a review of it this weekend. Which will be positive, but I'll save the specifics for next week.

Which probably means I need two betas, or one person willing to do two projects. One to look over the review for grammar and writing style of the review, probably on Saturday or Sunday. (I'll need a quick turn-around there.) I also need someone besides Ann to look over a short Swordspoint ficlet. Let me know if you're game for either or both.
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Rachel Held Evans, a well-known Christian author and blogger, hosts a "ask a...." interview series on her blog. This week she interviewed a stay-at-home dad.

http://rachelheldevans.com/ask-a-stay-at-home-dad-response

My own comment over at the post:

I love this interview so much, like all the others. A lot of what you described about the church's reaction reminded me of the way some churches treat "out" homosexual Christians. I'm not talking about the outright condemnation, which of course truly stinks, but also the sense of not quite knowing how to react to people whose life can't be analyzed in terms of the June Cleaver myth of masculinity/femininity. It also reminded me of my own experience as a thirty-something perpetually single woman who is happy as such.

This made me wonder how many other "silent victims" there are out there, to our need to cram square pegs through round holes. God bless you, sir, and thank you for your courage.

Also: Kai is so CUTE! and full of life. He is obviously a loved and nurtured child. You're doing something right, that much is plain to see.


Really, I can't recommend it highly enough. It's human and full of life, and also a telling glimpse at the way the Christian church this man found himself in, that they could not support him as perhaps they should have. Not just the church, either. People seem to have a hard time dealing with people whose lives can't be translated into the normal kinds of experience patterns.

It made me sad, not only for his sake, but for my own experiences as a thirty-year-old woman who's not angsting over the fact she hasn't found her man yet. I really have no problem with this and am happy with my friendships. But I have been to cocktail parties and Bible studies and the like, where people simply don't know what to make of me because I don't fit the normal mold. It was even more true before when I wasn't in grad school and was working temp jobs. The fact that I had no long-term career prospects at the point was sad but not the end of the world. The fact that I was a woman and not moving toward marriage was more noteworthy and more dangerous. (Was I secretly gay? Was I just a paradigm-buster that I didn't care about the thing women were supposed to care about? Didn't I know I'd never be happy without a family and wouldn't get one later on?) Yeah, there's sexism in those expectations and the resulting awkwardness - but the sexism cuts both ways.

But this interview also made me happy because it reminded me there are people out there who are just so human, ordering their life based on what works for them rather than what some abstract theory says is best - and it's just so uplifting and full of life. It reminded me that I didn't have to fit that mold either. And it made me think of my own SAHD cousin and my male friends in grad school who are their young children's primary caregivers because grad school means flexible hours. How good they are with their kids, and how well it works for them.

Do read it. Most of these interviews are worth reading, but this one really hit home for me. Wonderful read.
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Blessed are you, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who has not made me a Gentile.
Blessed are you, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who has not made me a slave.
Blessed are you, O Lord our God, King of the universe, who has not made me a woman.


As an undergrad student, I had a friend, Ruth, who prayed these words every morning. Well, not these exact words; her brothers prayed these words, whereas she as a woman got to say "… who has made me according to Your will" for the last verse. Ruth was a modern orthodox Jew, meaning that she believed Jews were still obligated to keep all the commandments, but that this didn't mean eschewing modern non-Jewish society or the science. Like many modern orthodox, Ruth's family also was a bit more liberal in how they interpreted Jewish law. They didn't compromise on the actual requirements, but (at least as Ruth described them) they tended to separate what was actually required by halakha from the bits that were just encouraged for cultural reasons.

In this case, that meant Ruth had to pray alongside her brothers. As I understand Jewish orthodoxy (keep in mind, this is me stretching back to conversations I had a decade ago), men are required to gather for three communal prayers every day; women still have to pray but aren't required to actually gather at specific time, though they are expected to pray on their own. I think this had something to do with the fact that since women were charged with caring for the families rather than working outside the home, it was harder for them to get to public services. They weren't optional for Ruth, though, because her family belonged to a shul that interpreted things differently. I won't even try to remember the details of their reasoning. The point was that for Ruth the prayer I mentioned above was a regular part of her daily life. And as you might expect it's not the easiest thing to live with.

I once asked Ruth what she made of it. Didn't it insult her that her classmates and neighbors and even her brothers prayed every day thanking God for not making them like her. Turns out, this was a major part of how she wrestled with herself in high school – figured out what it meant to be an orthodox Jew and whether she wanted that or whether she'd be more comfortable in a different variety of Judaism. A teacher she was particularly close to told her there were really three ways to look at something like this: either the way Judaism was presented was correct and what feminism claimed was wrong; or that feminism was right and Judaism was wrong; or that there was some way to reinterpret one or the other, so they could both be right. This teacher said she personally tried to take the third approach, though it was obviously a personal decision how to handle things like this when they came up.

I've been thinking about this conversation today. This afternoon I posted the following status at FB:

Coming out of the subway, there were some JWs handing out this month's Watchtower that has the cover article "Does God Care About Women?" I was absolutely floored that this is a question that still needs asking. I'm not singling out JWs since many religious people ask this question (though usually not so brazenly), and I haven't read the article so this may be a headline designed to grab attention. But still, any profanity I know is either wholly inadequate, beyond the PG13 level I try to hold myself to, or both.

In case it needs saying (and it doesn't): If God exists, and if he cares about people in general, he definitely, DEFINITELY cares about women. It should be assumed. The fact that this question occurs to religious people, let alone that they think it's the kind of thing they want to use to brand their religion to random strangers passing their kiosk, is simply outrageous.


Things got pretty heated pretty quickly. (The post is public, though you'll need a FB account to see it due to FB's privacy settings.) Dan in particular seemed surprised that I would claim the God of the Bible cared about women in light of misogynistic passages like the ones saying you could not divorce your spouse even in the case of domestic violence, or that women weren't allowed to speak in public.

I'm not so sheltered I've never heard of these verses. Someone better versed in apologetics than myself could probably answer those specific concerns better than I'm able to. Like with the "clobber" verses many Christians use to "prove" homosexuality is immoral, I believe that most of these verses refer to a specific local context that simply doesn't exist today. For instance, one common verse from Paul's epistles that Christian fundamentalists use misogynistically is 1 Corinthians 14:34-35:

Let your women keep silent in the churches, for they are not permitted to speak; but they are to be submissive, as the law also says. And if they want to learn something, let them ask their own husbands at home; for it is shameful for women to speak in church.


But one commentary I read years back (again, I'm going by memory) pointed to two cultural facts driving this directive. First, women often did not know the language the service was conducted in, and second, they were often seated separately from their husbands. The consequence was that you'd have women calling out to their husbands across the sanctuary, asking what the leader was going on about, and because they were literally shouting across the room this all got disruptive. It's not disruptive today, though, since (a) women speak English as well as their husbands do if not better, and (b) couples tend to sit together so if they want to talk it won't disturb the whole group. Ergo the motivation for this particular command simply doesn't apply.

I could sit here all night and answer each of the verses that seem women-hating on the surface. I could also point to some facts that I find particularly affirming of women, such as the story of Mary and Martha where Jesus affirmed Mary's choice to learn from him rather than doing the dishes, the high honor paid to Mary Jesus's mother, or the women in positions of authority in the early church. But I think there's a deeper question lurking behind all this. When a Bible verse seems to contradict with some other value we have, like men and women deserve respect and opportunity and whatever other good things there are in equal measures, how should we handle that?

Following the approach Ruth's teacher suggested, I think we have three main options here.

1. The Bible verse is correct and our valuing equality is wrong.
2. The Bible is wrong and our valuing equality is right.
3. There is some way of reinterpreting the Bible verse, or our other values, or both, that avoids this contradiciton.


The first option is the path preferred by religious fundamentalists. Scientific evidence be damned, the cosmos must have been created in six twenty-four-hour days because that's what the Bible says. Whatever suffering those policies take, gay rights must be rejected because the Bible says homosexuality is an abomination. And on down the list.

The second approach is one I see from a lot (though by no means all!) of atheists. They stick to the most literal interpretation of religious scriptures, but rather than reject other things like evolution, LGBT rights, and feminism in the name of the bible, they reject that tradition. Any "softening" of this position is often viewed as less authentic than what fundamentalists claim. So if a Christian comes out in favor of gay marriage, they are in some sense not "as" Christian as the folks claiming homosexuality is an abomination.

If you've read this blog, you really should know that I'm not comfortable with the first way of viewing things. I really don't think I'm alone on this either. Any Christian bookstore will have whole shelves of Bible commentary, many of them by leaders of the various denominations. (As a Methodist, I often turn to John Wesley's commentary, though John Calvin is also very good, and I'm sure my Catholic or Orthodox friends could point to excellent resources from within their own traditions.) As a matter of fact, there's a fine tradition going back all the way to Jesus and even to Abraham, where smart people see some revelation and ask "Surely that can't mean what it seems to say?" Abraham did this directly to God's face; I'm thinking particularly of the bartering before the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. Jesus certainly took several passages from the Bible of his day and said that those lines couldn't possibly mean what they seemed to mean on their surface. And it doesn't stop in Biblical days.

I'd go so far as to say I think we're supposed to ask these questions. Does the Bible say you'll burn in hell if you don't accept specific doctrinal points? How do we reconcile this with love for neighbor and enemy, which Jesus clearly requires? Does it say homosexual sex is an abomination to God? How do we reconcile this with what modern science tells us, that homosexuality is not a choice? Again, I could go on for quite a while about these things. But the more I study these things, the more I realize that questions like these are really worthwhile not because one answer of the other is correct, but because they present a puzzle that can spur us on to a deeper understanding. I approach them more and more like aporiai, the puzzles Aristotle uses as opportunities to finetune his beliefs about the world.

This is important to me, really important, because both approaches #1 and #2 treat the Bible in a way that robs it of a lot of its depth. I won't lie; a lot of Christians in America view the Bible this way; but a lot don't, and we (or at least I; I have no right to speak for such a diverse group of individuals) get really and truly sick of people equating obvious or surface meaning with the most true one, or even the most authentically Christian one. Non-fundamentalist Christianity definitely has its challenges, but we don't all think that the first interpretation that comes to mind is the correct one.

My own denomination, to give one example, emphasizes the Wesley Quadrilateral, which says interpreting revelation involves not just the scripture itself, but also tradition, critical thought, and our own personal experience. Truth does not conflict truth, but the interpretation we have (of scripture or the scientific evidence or whatever else) can easily be misplaced. I know in my own past, I've interpreted passages differently after learning a new fact or theory from philosophy, the sciences, psychology, or whatever. I see other Christians reading Scripture similarly, and going back much further than John Wesley.

It's interesting that in a lot of ways I come quite close to approach #2. I know there are Christians who think they understand the Bible precisely, that it says that certain things (homosexuality, equality for women, and the like) are wrong and need to be rooted out. I am very much against that kind of Christianity and work hard both here and in my offline life to help religious people develop a more nuanced kind of faith that helps them see why sexism, homophobia, and the like are so wrong. (You can also make a secular argument here, but religion provides a narrative a lot of people are used to working within. When it comes to values in particular, I'm all for using the stories people are fluent in, since in my experience that's typically the easiest way to encourage change.

As for Ruth? She eventually found a book dealing with that prayer that tied it to the way men had a few religious obligations that women didn't, just as non-slaves had more obligations than slaves and Jews than Gentiles. She's got an eight-year-old daughter who has taken to thanking God for not making her a man, since there are also obligations and rituals that only apply to women, which Rachel (said daughter) finds meaningful. I'm not quite sure I'm satisfied with this particular explanation, and the prayer has always bothered me a good bit. But the key thing is she's wrestling with it, and through that process she's working out what gender equality means to her. And whatever I think of the prayer, I can certainly agree that that is a good thing.
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My university sends out security alert emails whenever there's a security concern involving a student, even if it doesn't happen on-campus. They're good for the obvious practical issues, but they also tell you a lot about university culture. I've received them from four different schools over the years, and the difference in university expectations and norms really shows in the situations they choose to inform you of, the information they give or don't give. Here's one we received this morning:

At approximately 4:50 a.m., on Monday, Sept. 3, 2012, Fordham Security was contacted by a female student who reported that she was followed into the lobby of her private, off-campus apartment and groped by at least three unidentified males.

The student said she left a local bar at approximately 3:45 a.m. and walked to her apartment at E. 188 St. and Hoffman Ave., and as she was entering the foyer she noticed the unidentified males approaching her. She told Security that the assailants groped her and verbally harassed her. The student said she eventually gained access to the inner foyer door and locked the men out. The student did not receive any injuries.

The NYPD responded to the incident but were unable to apprehend the suspects. Anyone with information concerning this incident should contact the 48 Precinct Detective Squad at (718) 299-4119 or Fordham University Security at (718) 817-2222 and ask to speak to a Duty Supervisor.

Students are reminded of availability the off-campus transportation between 10 p.m. and 5 a.m. daily.


So the incident occurred off-campus and they still reported it; that's not entirely surprising given that Fordham is a city school with a good number of students living in the neighborhood around campus and even the on-campus students regularly going to those same bars. The police are also involved and actually taking the lead, which is also definitely good.

But again, campus security seems to be taking the after-effects too lightly. That's not their job, of course, but given that this is the only communication we'll probably receive about this university, they could do better. First and foremost, if this woman was groped she was injured. I'd argue verbal harassment is also injuring. She may not have received physical injuries, which I'm sure is what they mean, but the language here sends the definite message that being groped and the resulting psychological trauma doesn't count as a "real" injury.

On a related note, aside from the details of the attack and who to contact with info, the only other information given is that the campus provides security escorts between certain hours. Stone-cold sober, I wouldn't have the first clue how to ask for an escort given this information. I suppose there's a phone number to call, but at a minimum you should include that number. Better yet, you should provide a link to a brochure on practical self-defense off campus like practicing the buddy system. (In Cleveland my friends who went out drinking - that's not my scene so I only heard of the practice secondhand - would have a "designated walker," someone who stayed sober that night and made sure everyone stayed safe walking home.) I'm sure some Fordham group has worked up a tip sheet, and if they hadn't, they should; it's quite common with urban schools.

I also would have liked to see the phone number of psychological services with a line that they could help anyone who experienced sexual violence, or even just violence generally. Aside from the practical impact this would have, it would send a very different message than the one communicated by this email. As written, it sounds like not only was this woman not really hurt, it was her own fault for not calling the brawny men of campus security for an escort home.

This isn't a particularly outlandish email; I've received other similar ones from Fordham and other unis I've attended. But in light of the hate acts done on campus, I've been trying to pay attention to the subtle signals unis send in their communications with students. This one struck me as "needs improvement."
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(This post is part of the August synchroblog.)

A few weeks ago Jared Wilson entered my world for the first and what I hope will be the last time with a sexist screed that rocked the blogosphere, or at least my corner of it. His original post has been deleted, and I don’t exactly want to give his words any more air-time than they already received by posting them again, plus they are rather trigger-ish for anyone with an exposure to rape or domestic violence, and to a lesser extent to women generally. So let me just summarize them briefly.

warning: triggerish for rape, DV, and general ickiness )

The thing is, I’m not sure it’s that simple. Don’t mistake me, Mr. Wilson is 100%, outrageously wrong here. But the Bible does come close to endorsing a position very much like his at times. To wit:

I will greatly multiply your sorrow and your conception;

In pain you shall bring forth your children;

Your desire shall be for your husband,
And he shall rule over you.” (Genesis 3:16, NKJV)

The problem for folks like Mr. Wilson is they’re a few thousand years out of date:

Therefore the law was our tutor to bring us to Christ, that we might be justified by faith. But after faith has come, we are no longer under a tutor. For you are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus. For as many of you were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus. (Galatians 3:24-27, NKJV)

I don’t want to turn this into testimonial or anything. If I wasn’t a Christian, I’d probably find lots to object to about this statement, like the implication that we need faith to know that that rape-triggerish junk is, if you’ll excuse my language, complete and utter crap. We don’t. All we need is to be decent humans.

But speaking as a Christian, within that tradition, there’s something that’s especially wrong with Mr. Wilson’s language. Not only is it wrong and insulting but it turns the whole of Holy Scripture – you know, the sola thing you evangelicals are so keyed into – on its head. Because curses like this that were clearly temporary and the results of sin are quite honestly the only Scriptural evidence I can find that one group gets to lord it over the other. I don’t particularly accept the idea that men and women are innately different, but I sure don’t accept the idea that this gives any other human the right to dominate, particularly in such a violent way. And if that was ever the case, the whole thing about being sons (and daughters) of God through faith pretty well proves it. Alike in dignity, alike in worth, and each of us precious and unique – whatever bits of anatomy we might have between our legs.

This summer session I read Bertrand Russell’s “A Free Man’s Worship” with my ethics class, and we got into some interesting discussions on human dignity and autonomy and whether having God dictate right and wrong got in the way of all that. Russell writes,

A strange mystery it is that Nature, omnipotent but blind, in the revolutions of her secular hurrying through the abysses of space, has brought forth at least a child, subject still to her power, but gifted with sight, with knowledge of good and evil, with the capacity of judging all the works of his unthinking Mother. In spite of death, the mark and seal of the parental control, Man is yet free, during his brief years, to examine, to criticise, to know, and in imagination to create. To him alone, in the world with which he is acquainted, this freedom belongs; and in this lies his superiority to the restless forces that control his outward life.

Russell’s point, as I understand it, is that there is a certain dignity and a moral worth in being the one to choose. This idea seems very Kantian to me: we are the moral legislator, the one that makes sense of the chaos, and to submit to someone else’s authority is a betrayal of self. Is this idea at least reconcilable with the Christian ideal of submission, of following? Obviously the rest of Russell’s essay is thoroughly atheistic, and I don’t want to Christianize him. But the idea expressed in the quote above is a naturally attractive one, and I see it in a lot of religious peoples’ attempts to live well through horrific consequences. How does submission come into all this?

Years ago, when my grandfather died after a long illness, I remember standing against a wall at the wake and being unable to cry. We weren’t all that close as he had been chair-bound for most of my life, and I thought that was it. So on top of feeling, well, as bad as one does at funerals, I was feeling royally guilty too, but strangely stoic at the same time. My cousin Lisa (who even then “got” me very well) saw what was going on and said that, just for that day, she would be my big sister. I was maybe thirteen or fourteen and the oldest of three siblings, and I thought it was my job to be “strong” for them.  I was wrong, and only when someone showed me that could I start to cry like we all need to at those points.

Christianity glorifies submission and weakness but at the same time many Christians rely on human dignity to find worth in their lives, particularly in life’s dark allies. (This is what I think Paul is really getting at in 2 Corinthians 12 – not that humans are decrepit without God, but that we are strong enough to see even weakness in our strength, something greater than ourselves.) I think, particularly in the wake of tragedies like the Colorado shooting or the recent attack on the Sikh temple, we need what Russell pointed to: “to examine, to criticise, to know, and in imagination to create.” It’s also for me the beauty and salvific power of Tolkien’s mythic vision of a world where “the [story’s] cycles should be linked to a majestic whole, and yet leave scope for other minds and hands.” As humans, we need to stare into the void and find more than emptiness. And if there isn’t anything but vacuum, we need to fill it ourselves.

That requires a very different kind of submission, of following, than the one Mr. Wilson points to, and for reasons that go beyond the obvious ones. It isn’t about giving up our authority and dignity as rational beings, capable to act on something other than simple instinct. It’s about recognizing our limits and choosing to rest a bit, let someone else carry the load for a mile or two, so we can take it up again all the better.

That’s a kind of submission even this dyed-in-the-wool egalitarian can get behind.

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I took a huge bag of books down to the Fordham library today - last day of the semester, and we'd gotten to the "we won't renew these anymore, so get them back to us NOW" stage of library communications. I ended up taking a bus to campus on account of the weight. Definitely the right call, though it was a lovely day and normally I'd walk.

(Well, not all of the books. I forgot one and the other, I need for a paper I'm working on. Here's hoping the $.10/day will motivate me to finish this weekend.)

Thing is, there were these two high schoolers at the back of the bus, practically yelling lewd comments at each other. They were jerks; not so you'd feel unsafe, but just incredibly offensive to the other passengers. Occasionally I'd look over at them, by reflex, and whenever I did that one of them grabbed at his crotch and readjusted himself, then would cock his head and look right at me. I didn't mean to get into a thing with him, but it was a fairly empty bus and so hard to ignore.

I don't want to make generalizations about the gender based on two sixteen-year-old guys, but it disturbs me that this is how these soon-to-be-grown-men treated a single woman and a mother traveling with an infant (the only other passenger on the bus). Is this what most guys (or even a sizable portion) think of women most of the time, and are just better at covering up? It was degrading in the worst way.

And then I got to get off and turn in my books and scan in my readings for my summer class, like an adult quasi-professional. But something about those teenagers interacting with me on that level has staying power. It doesn't seem fair somehow; do guys have to deal with this, either from other guys or from women? :-S
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(Written for the March 2012 synchroblog; links TBA.)

I have a secret: for years now, I've wished I was eligible for the selective service.

In my country, at the age of eighteen all the guys have to register for the military draft. They don't actually have to serve, and chances are negligible that they'll be called up, since (for all our wars) America has been an all-volunteer army since I believe Vietnam. But ever since I've figured out how committed of a pacifist I am, I've wanted the ability to declare to God, country, and the world at large that there wasn't anyone representin me in this war, either.

I want to be clear about something: I respect what our veterans are trying to do. I nod at them out of respect when I see them on campus, and I've gotten in the habit of picking up pastries every week or two for my veteran neighbor, as a small token of gratitude. I also would gladly pay any tax asked of me to improve their safety while in service and their recovery once they leave. It's the generals and the contractors I have a beef with. I don't think our current wars are just, and given our track record of judicial process for people accused of war crimes and quasi-legal neverending wars, I think it will be a long time before I'd find an actual war I could support. And that's my point. I want the right to register as a conscientious objector to document this fact. Because I am not expected to fight, someone else "covers" me by default, so I get no say in the matter.

It's not just that theoretical point that bothers me, though. At the tender age of seventeen, I was a registered Republican and generally supported the idea of bringing democracy to the world, but I also wasn't sure now I felt about killing someone for that cause or any other, and so I asked my history teacher what were my options if I was morally opposed to war. He told me that I wasn't required to register for the draft, and when I asked why he explained that "Uncle Sam" didn't want to take mothers away from their children, or put children in homes with a mum suffering from PTSD. I'm now a few months shy of thirty years old, still happily single and happily child-free, in a doctoral program that I hope will lead to a professorship. In the meantime I am happy with my hobbies, my volunteer work, my church, and my friends both online and offline. I am living the life of the mind in a truly vibrant city, and it's a good life - just not the one my high school teacher thought I was destined for. But back then, that thought was discouraging. Men could go and die for their country and could then go on to college and do whatever they liked. For me, though, he thought my future was sealed. Biology really was destiny, or at least that's how it struck me at the time.

I thought about all this when I heard someone use the phrase "war on women" for the umpteenth time in a newspaper editorial this morning. Again, let me be clear: I think preventive birth control is a good thing, and I think subsidized or insurance-covered birth control is an even better thing because it gives lower-class women the same liberties I have to manage their sexuality and its consequences. But every time I hear that phrase I bristle just a little bit (and sometimes quite a lot), because it carries with it the suggestion that as a woman I am defined by the bits of anatomy between my legs. It also suggests that if I personally didn't think of fertility like a disease, I would not be included in the collective of womanhood that was under attack. I've been on the receiving end of people telling me what it means to be a real woman, to feel comfortable with that.

Given that this is a SynchroBlog post, I feel a strong pull to somehow tie this back to my religion. I could cite the many different roles women serve throughout the Bible, from Miriam to Esther to Mary Magdalene, and those stories are relevant. The problem is, they're part of a fabric that stretches beyond any one religious or literary tradition. I could just as easily point to Eowyn and B'Elanna Torres and Brenda Leigh Johnson and all the other strong women of literature. They weren't all shieldmaidens, either. Often as not, womanhood is as varied as human nature (as well it should be!). Our battle-cries need to reflect that.
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I actually saw this one coming a mile away:

What the 'After-Birth Abortion' and 'Personhood' Debates Have in Common

A few weeks back I wrote about a journal article proposing that infanticides just after birth should have the same legal status as abortions just before. Meaning that they should be legal if the mother's welfare was at risk, and not even called infanticides. I find this claim preposterous, and I tried my best to explain why. Basically, I think there's a big distinction between legal status and moral status.

ChristianityToday, a major online and print magazine in the evangelical (not necessarily conservative, not necessarily fundamentalist, but just evangelical) publishing world made the above post in one of their associated blogs. Basically, the argument goes, this whole debate over infanticide comes from the recognition that there's no recognizable distinction between a fetus and an infant, meaning we should give  all the rights of an infant to a fetus. Think the personhood bills you've seen put out in U.S. states like Mississippi and Colorado.

The problem here is that the concepts of "fetus" and "born human" (to say nothing of human and person generally) are really not so simple, and we're using them like they are. I tend to think the whole abortion debate would be much, much easier if we thought about what we meant by a fetus. I'll grant that a fetus a minute before birth has more in common with an infant one minute after birth, than it does with a fetus one minute after conception. I'll even grant that some of the ways these three things are similar and different are morally relevant. All that proves, though, is that a fetus is a distinction where the members in it don't all have the same moral status.

There are a lot of big philosophical words floating around in there, so let me try to make this simpler. I'll give you that it's morally wrong to kill a fetus one minute before it's born. (Allowing the usual exceptions for self-defense, etc.) That doesn't mean it should be morally wrong to kill any fetus. And, just for the record, it doesn't actually mean it should be illegal to kill a fetus one minute before birth. The law's a blunt instrument and may not be up to the task of splitting that moral hair. It just means that not all fetuses are in the same position, morally speaking.

While we're on the concept of distinctions, it's worth looking at one more: human vs. person. On one definition, it's quite obvious that a newly-fertilized zygote is human. So is an amputated leg or fingernail clippings. Human here just means "has human DNA" or "has human cellular structure." But a doctor who amputates a leg to save the patient doesn't have to go through a hospital board inquiry, and I didn't have to explain to the police why I cut my nails last night. There's another definition of "human," which philosophers both prefer to call "person" to avoid speciesism and to avoid the confusion of using human in more than two ways. Persons are members of the moral community, things that have rights and responsibilities. Some philosophers use  the ability to feel pain; more common is the sentience idea, or the ability to act on something other than just instinct. But when a scientist or a bioethicist talks about a fetus being human, they don't usually mean it in the personhood case.

So to sum up:

  1. Yes, fetuses are (genetically) human.
  2. No, not all fetuses are humans/persons in the moral sense.
  3. The solution is not to call a zygote a person – it is to recognize that fetuses exist along a continuum, and while some may reasonably be called a person, not all can.
  4. So: drop this drive to call a zygote a person. It's not helping.


I am actually as dismayed by this journal article's claim as anyone else. The solution, though, isn't to double down and insist all fetuses are people. It's to recognize the very real difference between a zygote smaller than the period at the end of this sentence, and an eight-month old human baby that could survive on its own outside the womb.

It also wouldn't hurt to distinguish between a late-term fetus's right to life, and the mother of a late-term fetus's obligation to preserve that life. She may have such an obligation based on her past actions of not terminating the pregnancy, not using appropriate birth control, etc. (depending on the situation – this is a big if), but it's not all about a "right to life." There are other concerns that play out here, and the dueling claims in this situation are complicated. You don't do anyone any good by pretending this is a simple issue.

martasfic: (Default)

Whatever else the recent blowup over the ACA contraception mandate might have shown, it's that Americans need a better epistemology. The news story has interested me on many levels and will probably pop up in blog posts from time to time. But one philosophical idea kept seeming to float to the forefront, at least in my mind as I read the different news stories. Namely, that the people participating in this debate seemed to be using concepts in very different ways. They weren't even consistent within the different sides.

This becomes clearer if you think about different groups. There was a lot of talk in left-leaning circles about "the 98%" – a statistic that 98% of sexually active Catholic women had used contraception at least once, and that a high number (I think in the neighborhood of 70-80%) used it regularly or were currently using it. The implication was that this meant Catholicism no longer had a major problem with birth control. I previously argued that religious institutions like the RCC don't operate like unions or PACs, where all you need for a position change is a new consensus view. The RCC, like all religious institutions represents its tradition, not the current view of all its members; and the members get to vote by agreeing to be a part of it or not.

So it's in the church's best interest to make its positions relevant to its members, through education and dialogue. I may not agree with the position (in point of fact I don't), but it's not my opinion – or any Catholic parishioner (which I'm not), or the majority opinion of those parishioners – that decides here. Here, what it means to be a Catholic is controlled by those people charged with interpreting and guarding Catholic tradition. The bishops and the rest of the Catholic hierarchy.

The liberals have it wrong here. I say this as a liberal! But on this particular point, they're off base.

Interestingly, they're also wrong on a related issue but for exactly the opposite reason. This one came up in the context of hearings on this same mandate. There was a bit of a brouhaha over the fact that there weren't any women on the first panel that appeared before the committee, and specifically that one witness who had been denied contraception by her Catholic employer that she needed for non-reproductive reasons wasn't allowed to testify. The charge of "Where were the women?" was pronounced immediately by Nancy Pelosi and soon went viral. I wasn't convinced even at first, because this particular hearing was over whether the mandate posed a challenge to religious freedom, and the woman they wanted to testify didn't have any comment on that particular issue. Do I wish the various religious groups had highlighted some of their female leaders (which do exist)? Yes, if only to drive home the point that religion is not all male-dominated, and that the lashback was tempered by an awareness of the reality women live. But the proposed witness was none of these things, and so I didn't feel excluded on those grounds.

It's what came next where things got really interesting. See, as it turns out there was a woman on the second panel that testified before the hearing (two in fact), but they didn't testify in favor of the mandate. So the idea that no women had testified was revamped a bit to say no women had testified for women. This irked me in the same way that the line that anti-abortion access laws are somehow a war against women. I don't like those laws, I find them insulting in their insinuation that women's decisions couldn't possibly be well-reasoned and I think some of them (like the recent narrow miss down in Virginia) are awful assaults on women and turn the doctor-patient relation on its head.

But I don't think attacks on them are a war on women, because lots of women do resent having reproduction labeled as an illness. Women tend to be among the most ardent pro-lifers, and they probably see abortion as an assault not only on a child but also on their way of life. I don't agree with them, but it is disenfranchising to them to suggest that unless you hold a certain view, you are not speaking for women or you're not a real women. Sarah Palin and Michelle Bachmann are women, and as much as I hate what they stand for on nearly every issue, they represent the viewpoints of many women.

The difference here is that "women" are not an institution like a church is. So here, you can't say you are protecting the institution of womanhood. If you were talking about a specific institution organized along gender lines (NOW, for instance) then, yes, we have a right to say that such-and-such a legislation is anti-NOW or against the interests of NOW. But the larger issue that a legislation is anti-woman? That only makes sense if you think of women as a monolithic group. We aren't that, and again the Democratic party is on the wrong end of it to suggest we are.

I've made my feelings on this mandate clear in recent posts, but that doesn't mean I can't recognize sloppy sentiments when I see them. Ironically, the left-leaning blogosphere is contradicting itself when saying on the one hand the RCC must take every member's position into account with no regard for history when determining the RCC's position, and then on the other hand that "women's issues" should only be decided by the "right" kind of women. Ironic that they get it wrong in both cases, really.  

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This is ridiculous:

Read more... )

I mean, I know that sex sells and clothing ads in particular often objectify women, but this ad is basically softcore porn. I guess they deserve three cheers for not having stick figures as models (though it is a plus-size company), but still there's something I find repulsive about it.

It's not just the shirtless aspect of it, btw, though that doesn't help. It's the way they look directly at us as if beckoning us to come be as close to them as the other models. This may make me sound prudish, and I guess I can be. But the whole point of modesty and clothes generally for me is that you don't emphasize the physical. With only so much on display, it should prod other people to see me as more than just a physical being. Would it have killed them to throw on a shirt and show these women actually doing something in the clothes?

This entry was originally posted at http://fidesquaerens.dreamwidth.org/6651.html. Please comment there using OpenID.

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