For the Strength of You've gotta be kidding me

Today was awesome.  Okay, today was a mixed bag, some of which was good and some of which... well.  See title.

First things first: Last night I went to bed on the wings of the most sincere and intentional prayer I've made that wasn't full of blubbering in the past few months.  I decided that, as my 31st birthday gift to myself, I will have someone to snog at midnight on New Year's.  I don't care if it's a good friend (HA!), a random date, a steady boyfriend, or somewhere in between, but there will be someone and I will snog him.  There will be snogging and it will--hopefully-be glorious, and I'm praying and putting out intentions for it to happen.  Snog ahoy!  So that was nice and I felt good when I went to sleep.  Huzzah, prayer!

I got up, got made up, and went to church, fully intending to attend all three hours on purpose.  Part of this was because I'm barely going to be at my YSA ward for the rest of the month since I'll be elsewhere with my siblings pretty much every weekend.  Also, my ward got a new Bishopric, and I wanted to bid farewell to the old guard (but mostly their wives) and welcome the new.  Thirdly, I think I feel ready to return to activity.  I think.  Today kinda pissed me off.  Sacrament was fine, Sunday School was okay, but Relief Society...

Let me preface by saying that I love my Relief Society Presidency.  They're wonderful, smart, intelligent, independent, strong women and they work very hard.  I trust that if there are things they feel they need to emphasize, there's a reason, even if that reason may or may not apply to me all the time.  That being said... Why?  Why are we being given copies of the new For the Strength of Youth pamphlet?  That little book has at least doubled in thickness from the last time I got it in Young Women's over twelve years ago, and while I appreciate most of its content and the purpose it has for teenagers, there is nothing in it that's meant to be appropriate for anyone of an age where college, career, mission and post-mission, serious dating, engagement, marriage, housing, travel, and other concerns of adult life are at hand.  It is made for teenagers, not young adults, not for people who may have degrees and businesses and bills and probably debt.

I appreciate the Presidency's desire to "get back to basics", to remind people of the simple principles of the Gospel.  That's wonderful!  I back that up entirely.  But, shockingly, my hemlines and hairstyle are not in that category.  That's right, we talked through "Dress and Appearance".  And "Sexual Purity".  Of course.  Of freakin' course.  It's not a proper flashback to Young Women's without them!  We were even introduced to the Head-Shoulders-Kness-and-Toes of Modesty:  Touch your head to make sure your midriff doesn't show, be sure your shoulders are covered and your hemline is to or near your knees, and touch your toes to make sure your cleavage doesn't pop out.  Yes, we reverted to Preschool as adult women in order to measure how covered we are.  There were a few comments made about men's inferiority in the realms of thought/desire control, and one girl who apparently gets pissed at other women for dressing immodestly when they're in proximity to her fiance because they're tempting him and making him think bad things.  I had a very hard time staying in my seat and in the room.  I was not disappointed in my prediction that someone would pull out this gem...

Sister: (paraphrase)  With the rise and prevalence of pornography in the world, we have to realize that when we dress immodestly or inappropriately, we basically become porn for the boys.
Me: *And there it is.  Hand up*
Teacher:  *thoughtful murmur* That's true.  Jena?
Me: [At this point I feel like I entered an altered state of mind/reality.  My brain does not usually jump in so quickly or forcefully, I don't typically raise my voice in church or stare daggers at teachers, and I rarely feel like I'm about to firewalk out of my body...]  No, it's not true!  Pornography is a product.  We cannot be pornography because women are people not products.  [I wish that I had continued with someone along the lines of how it's sexist to think that men are less capable or desirous of controlling themselves than women and that we ought to expect them to pull their own weight instead of heaping the burden upon women, etc. but the teacher looked startled and I felt like I was about to burst into flames, so I sat back and let her move on to someone else's comment.]

I may have just outed myself as a radical.  Oh noes.  The idea is a little freeing; I can gradually quit pretending I'm normal.  Sigh, I'm going to be one of those "crazy Mormons" who's really only crazy to other Mormons.  What a lovely introduction to me for my new Bishop's wife!

I love my ward family and my Church family.  I love the Gospel and often I even love the institution of the Church.  Nevertheless, sometimes I look around and think, "This place is totally insane and we are all nuts."  Mostly it's just people doing their level best, but sometimes level best is weird or age inappropriate.  Trying to improve that is one of the primary reasons I remain these days.  Someday, I want to help rewrite the way we talk and think about these things.  I hope that I made a small difference in the mindset of someone in that room today by declaring that womanhood is personhood.

My underwear is none of your business.

Some years back, before I went through the temple, I had a discussion with a non-LDS friend of mine about garments.  She, of course, thought they were extremely weird and a sign of oppression and why would anyone wear them, etc.  My main thoughts were that a) all things considered, yes they do limit some fashion choices, but at least it's not throat-to-wrist-to-feet coverings 24/7 like some faiths, and there are exceptions for circumstances and activities, and b)it's someone's underwear and how on earth is that ever anyone else's business?  Lay off!

Only later after wearing the garment myself did I realize that the same question must then be posed to members of the Church.  How is it anyone else's business whether an individual is wearing their garments on a given day or not?  Or at all or not?  It's not, but I'll tell you, it's impossible not to feel conspicuous about going out in public where other Mormons might see you and know/think you're not wearing them.

Example: I was recently at a friend's house for a get-together involving her mother on a day when I had run low on clean garments, so it was just me and regular heathen underwear.  This mother can occasionally be a bit of a busy-body, and at one point when I was standing next to her, I'm fairly certain I felt the edge of my shirt lifted and then lowered.  I was busy doing something so I can't absolutely confirm that this happened, and she made no comments, but I wouldn't put it past her from my experiences being around her.  If this indeed happened, not only did she invade my personal space without permission--and I have very specific issues with people messing with my clothes, especially when I'm wearing them--but... what business is it of hers or anyone's?  None.  Absolutely none.

If I'm wearing my garments, it doesn't matter.

If I'm not wearing my garments, it doesn't matter.

My underwear is none of your business.  Ever.

The Self-Esteem Sandwich

Body image is on my mind, in case you couldn't tell.

I was on the phone with a man the other day--one that I greatly admire and think is more or less made of awesome and I-wish-I-were-more-like-you--and we've had some great phone conversations before, but that one just felt a little... flat.  Maybe my fault, maybe his, maybe both, maybe neither, maybe I interrupted him doing something (in which case, I'm glad he took the amount of time he did out of what he was doing), maybe he was distracted... doesn't matter.  It was shortish and inconclusive in the realm of "Hey, so when do you want to get together?" and I felt like a complete doofus who can't communicate with the Y-chromosome portion of the species to save my life after we hung up.  Not my finest moment.  (Then I got to whine about it to a friend afterwards to distract her from her own man-woes, so that worked out okay.)  And, as so very often happens, it got me thinking.  There might've been a nudge/shove from Dryad involved, too.

Anyway, I was finally able to verbalize something I've known about myself for a while but hadn't found the right visual for it.  Usually, I think of self-esteem as one whole entity.

Kinda like one of these. (Buy a tree here)

There's seeds of doubt or confidence at the core of it, and then the flesh is either good or bad, juicy or dry, healthy or rotten.  That model never really satisfied me, though, and I finally figured out why.  My personal self-esteem looks something more like this.

On top we find a fine, strong, lovely layer of good feelings about self and healthy attitudes.  This is my smile, my laugh, my kindness to others, my encouragement, my Feminista, my "I am a good person to be around and know"ness.

On the bottom, we find a fine, strong, lovely layer of "I am a daughter of God and Goddess", divine nature, individual worth, core values, and a relative confidence that I have a right to be in the world, that I have a purpose, gifts, things to share and contribute to humanity: my "I am a good person to have exist."

And in the middle is a thick, brown, sticky layer of "What are you, why are you here, and why would anyone want you?" that leaves a bad taste in the mouth.

This is echoed in the conscious realization that the physical traits for which I do get complimented are all peripheral: hair, eyes, face, hands, feet... eyebrows.  (Seriously, people love my eyebrows.)  I have never, ever, ever been told by a reliable, male source that my body is beautiful.  I've been called sexy by guys on dating sites, and at that point it doesn't feel like a compliment.  I am unable to take it as a compliment;  it feels objectifying because they don't know me.  I can't or won't trust it, and I'm automatically suspicious of any man that says it.

Hell of a rock and a hard place situation, isn't it?  I know I'm awesome, but I only know that on the top and bottom.  The mush in the middle is hard to swallow, and there's precious little Mother's Milk with which to wash it down and tell me I'm good all the way through.

One reason why patriarchy is evil

Trigger warning: Rape.
"...by their fruits ye shall know them."  From the mouth of the Son of God himself.

I was reading my book-with-the-socially-unacceptable-title a few days back.  The author spends a particular amount of time on the subject of rape--her mother's story that instigated the book, why it happens, the repercussions in women's lives, etc--and I started thinking about the why, thus to come to this conclusion:  Rape is a a fruit of patriarchy, malevolent and benevolent both.  Malevolent patriarchy simply doesn't give a crap; it loves rape as a tool of war and it doesn't care when else it happens, because hey... it's just a woman.  (Or a homosexual.  Or a child.  Or an old person.  Or a prisoner.  For my purposes, I will focus on male-female rape.)

Benevolent patriarchy is hardly better; it still makes women inferior to men, no matter that we're good and sweet and worthy to be lifted up on a pedestal... but we are not to be leaders or choosers or counselors or acters.  Not really.  Also, benevolent patriarchy doesn't often say that rape is a bad thing to do; in my experience, it's spoken almost universally as something to be prevented by potential victims, not an act to be responsibly avoided by potential perpetrators.

"Women are the guardians of virtue."
"You should know better than to walk alone at night."
"Any woman that's dressed like that is pretty much asking for it."  (My own father said these words to my face.)
"Men can't help themselves when they see the female form.  They're more visual than women."
"Dear girls,
Dressing immodestly is like rolling in the mud.  You'll get attention, but mostly from pigs.
Sincerely,
Real Men"

Thank you, Real Men, for admitting that you are so shallow that you no longer care about the worth of a woman's soul or honor the validity of her thoughts, feelings, opinions, or life experiences if she's wearing a tank top instead of a t-shirt, and for abandoning all those immodest trollops to the attentions of pigs and/or rapists.  Your honesty and moral integrity is refreshing.  You are an inspiration to us all, Real Men!

It is easier for patriarchy to focus on on the outward issues of getting women not to dress in a way that "can get them raped", victim blaming if they do get raped, and absolving the perpetrators of rape (No, really, men are practically incapable of controling their thoughts if there's a boob in the vicinity!) than for it to turn the lens inward and focus on rooting out its own inner corruption.  Rape is a fruit of patriarchy.

Rape--the utter desecration and defilement of the most sacred of human rights: bodily and sexual autonomy, choice, respect, and safety--is a fruit of a system that inherently diminishes the Feminine simply for the lack of a penis.

And that, my friends, is just one horrible and excellent reason why patriarchy is evil.

P.S.:  I am very aware that there are scads of men out there who--while perhaps otherwise patriarchal--would never in a million years commit, condone, tolerate, or excuse rape, a fact for which I am grateful.   I give a virtual high-five to any man who feels the seething rage that rape deserves.  In this post I am not addressing the facts of individual men, but rather the culture of patriarchy--the reign of men/fathers--as a whole, and its systemic tolerance of rape and rape culture.

Outside the Garden

Perhaps the Devil replaced the symbol of feminine wisdom in the Eden story because life is a Hell of a lot harder once there's choices to be made.

I hate to say it because I feel a little ungrateful  after yesterday's sublime gift of timing, but that was the best I got out of the visiting authorities.  Both of their talks last night and this morning were... discouraging and unsettling.  I don't feel like going into details, but suffice it to say that if there's a hint of purposeful delaying of marriage and children, or a wife who doesn't follow her husband because he's the patriarch(y) in the household, or if you are an inch less than all on board with supporting only traditional marriage, you've been corrupted by the world and Satan.  It was pure Correlation speech, with little to no room for personal revelation, opinion, or need.  I think my question about Mother was the only thing either of them talked about that wasn't based primarily in "follow the Prophet/Priesthood, get in line, be good."

Okay, that's all slightly exaggerated because I was so taken aback by how put off I was.  Also, they did talk about personal revelation, but it was 99.9% (addressing me being the .1%) to do with their process of receiving revelation about the new Stake President.  That's wonderful!  I am glad to be assured of the revelatory process in our lay clergy, I truly, honestly am.  Nevertheless, I was really encouraged by at least portions of Elder Anderson's talk last Conference when he reaffirmed that decisions of when and how many children to have are between couples and the Lord, secondary to even prophetic advice, and to have the subject hit upon three or four times, while talking about how the men have the Priesthood and leadership responsibilities while women stay home and manage the affairs...  it bothers me, anymore.  We're not stewards over our husband's property while he's out doing God's work.  We are God's work!  With our husbands, not in spite of them.  Teamwork, not periodic couplehood!  Yes, I'm upset about it.  Talks like this make me feel like I'm less likely to find a man who will see and treat me as equal to him.

Of course, this was topped off with the obligatory bone-throw to the singles and the childless.  "You'll get the blessings eventually."  Thank you!  I had forgotten about that... that one thing that gives my flat-lined love life/death a hint of purpose.  That thing I must cling to if I'm to be a righteous LDS woman.  I had forgotten, because it's not ever-present when the subject comes up, and I'm not painfully aware that I'm not a member of the married-with-kids club.

Gragh.

All that said... for once, I was genuinely unimpressed by the words of leadership.  For once, I really disagreed and found myself in a Correlation Conundrum.  I'm certain this will not be the last time I face this situation.  I do like the new Stake Presidency, though, and I'm grateful for the former Presidency.  They were really wonderful, and I have high hopes that this new trio will carry the torch of awesome.

To end on a lighter note, I would like to take a moment to brag on my former Stake President.  I've known and loved the man for years.  He was my Stake Mission Leader when I was a Stake missionary... for three weeks before he was called to be President.  I was well acquainted with him before that through my Dad, and I was excited to see him called.  Over the years, he and his four counselors (one moved, one died--and he is still deeply missed and lovingly remembered, but that's another story) have done great amounts of good from what I've observed.  The President joined an interfaith coalition of local leaders an representatives of many faiths and built bridges and got to know them well.  He spoke openly of and acknowledged Heavenly Mother in at least one, possibly two meetings I attended.  When he and his wife were interviewed by Elder Oaks when he was called, and Elder Oaks gave him 20 minutes to choose his Counselors, he didn't need the whole time, but most remarkably... he told Elder Oaks that his wife would always be his first Counselor.  And she was.  Following that line, when he came to the singles ward to conduct the last Bishopric change, he said, speaking of the departing trio and advising the incoming, "The brethren are better prepared when they have the advice of their wives."  He has been a great example of equality and honoring women alongside men.

I pray that will continue with our new President and his Counselors, and that it will spread.

Sorry, gotta go off-topic for a minute

I gotta say it somewhere.  Pardon my French, but...

CANCER SUCKS.

It sucks for everyone.  It sucks for the person with cancer and it sucks for the people taking care of them.  It sucks for friends who feels powerless to do anything.  It sucks for family members who have to watch their loved one fight it.

Treatment sucks.

Doctor visits suck.

Side effects suck BIG. TIME.

I hate cancer.  I hate what fighting it is doing to my mother.  I hate what the stress is doing to my family and myself.  I hate that I'm probably going to lose my Mommy years earlier than I thought.  I HATE that whatever there is about me that leaves me single means that--with no one currently on the horizon--I may eventually only have my mother with me in spirit when/if I do get married.  I hate that because I've long felt like the one between my sister and I whose "job" it was to give our parents granddaughters (since she has all boys), now that my sister is having a girl, if I am totally honest, I feel like I have failed my Mom because my sister "had" to take over that duty.  (I know that's probably not the case and I've taken it all on myself, but that's my reality nevertheless.)

I can't/won't drop the F-bomb myself ("sucks" is an evolution in vocabulary for me) so I'm going to let XKCD do it for me.  (A worthwhile look even if profanity offends you.  Choose to get over it for two minutes and click the link.  Believe me: the profanity applies.)

Cancer. Sucks.

I got so angry today (Updated)

I've finally been reading The Dance of the Dissident Daughter (If you buy, please buy via The Amethyst Network's Amazon widget), having received a distinct spiritual kick in the butt that I was haring off into the awakening adventure of mine with entirely too little preparation.  So far, I enjoy the book and it has a lot of beautiful information, it is not the end-all-be-all of this path.  However, it has begun to turn the lock.

I was driving to take care of some business in the next city over, contemplating what I'd read and my own thoughts, and I began to pray, puzzling over Why.  I usually try not to ask Why, but What Can I Learn--well before a Conference talk last year to that effect, pretty much since going through a bad relationship several years ago--but I just can't seem to escape it.  Why.  Why do we know so little about God the Mother?  We're Her children, Her daughters.  We're allowed to know a decent amount about other sacred subjects, namely everything that goes on in the temples.  The foundations are laid there for women and men to become like our Parents.  It's sacred stuff.  Is Mother, is Goddess more sacred than that?  Why?  How?  The old saw about her being too sacred to be talked about (which, incidentally, is NOT an endorsed, official position; we seem to have taken it on ourselves as a people) just doesn't stand up.

And the truth burst forth, burning from my lips like a phoenix from a cage.  "Because that's the greatest desecration of all!  It has already happened!"  She has been erased, written out, suppressed, oppressed, and the very idea of her existence ignorantly reviled for millenia, forced to submit beneath the iron fist of unrighteous patriarchy.  Throughout the centuries, mortal men undertook to squelch virtually all mention of Her, practically every hint under the umbrella of Judeo-Christian tradition, denying women equally standing and prestige in every particular of their religious, social, and cultural lives, even to the point of murder.  Can there be a more perfect example of desecration than intentional defamation and systematic annihilation?  She has already been disrespected and abused by her children.  Many who should revere Her sneer at the concept that She exists.  They fight it.  Silence can be no protection from the abuse that silence begets.

So I prayed and I pled, "Make Her known!  Bring Her forth and unveil her face!"  I quickly realized, however, that such revelation would do very little good as yet.  We, as a people, are mired in bitterness and apostasy--literally standing apart from the principle--where She is concerned, and our men are deeply affected.  The apparent imbalance in practical representation of Deity only reinforces the ideologies they've been given.  So I pled for them.  "God Almighty, open the hearts of the men.  Soften their hearts toward their Mother.  Help them to accept Her when she is revealed."  But I couldn't deny that, whether the men ever get it or not, the women have been wronged.  Deeply, horribly wronged.  We have had inferiority projected and enforced upon us.  For thousands of years, billions of men, billions of women; the lack of the Feminine Divine has wounded everyone it touches.  So I pled for justice, for some sort of restitution to be made on behalf of the hated daughters of Eve, for our abuse to end, for us to be finally seen as equals.

I rarely rail in my prayers, but today I did, shouting and weeping with indignation at the sheer injustice of what we've had thrust upon us simply because we lack a penis, because we have a womb.  It is deeply unfair, but so help me, it is not "just the way it is."  This was done intentionally, centuries ago, by men who then passed it on to not only their sons, but their daughters as well.

"TRADITIOOOOOON!"

Many of the traditions we carry are good, beneficial, and beautiful, but the erasure of Goddess and the oppression of women are not.  It's time for this to stop.  It's time for us to "arise from the dust, my sisters, and be women, and be determined in one mind and in one heart, united in all things, that we may not remain in captivity." Indeed, "Awake, my sisters; put on our armor of righteousness.  Shake off the chains with which we are bound, and come forth out of obscurity, and arise from the dust."  (Likened from 2 Nephi 1:21, 23)  It's interesting that the above words in their original form were spoken to Laman and Lemuel as their father's dying plea for them to spiritually awaken, to be strong, to reverse direction on the dark path down which they have travelled.  Laman and Lemuel chose to be proud, to reject their traditions to the point that God lost favor with them and they lost favor with God; Women had no choice in having their rights and power stripped away by men.

The Fast begins in a few days.  I find myself approaching this even with a growing sense of the daunting task it represents.  I know this is important, this work to ask for greater light and knowledge, for the Restoration of our Goddess into the official record, not as a point of doctrine used to provide leverage in proving a moral point, or lumped in as one half of our Parents, presented only in relation to Heavenly Father, but a Divine Being in Her own right.  This work is more important than the gross majority of us realize and it cannot be accomplished without great effort.  Perhaps many of the women who read this (if they read this far) will not realize how deep that need is, and would call me subversive, blasphemous, or foolish.  I cannot blame them; I cannot hold their conditioning against them.  I've been conditioned the same way and I struggle under the same burden.

I still believe.  Deeply.  I am still strong in my faith, with a strong conviction that this Church is where I belong, that it is where the most important eternal truths and proper authority can be found.  That, however, does not negate or excuse the problems that exist because of our mortal imperfections and weaknesses.  Indeed, if we were a perfect people, we would have been taken up.  Until that happens, we still have improvements to make, things we can all learn and do better, and traditions to overcome.

*Updated to add references, clarify a few statements and make minor grammatical changes

I hate nights like tonight

Nights like tonight, I hurt in my heart.  I don't know what causes it--maybe it's the funked-up-ness of my hormones, maybe it's fat, maybe it's blood sugar, maybe it's bad karma--but some days something comes along and flips my usual contented nature on its head and turns me into a pile of impotent, bottled up rage.

I fasted today for authenticity, to know myself, to know my own heart and mind, to stand up and speak up for them.  I was fine until most of the way through dinner when I suddenly freaked out about something that was really pretty minor.  It dredged up years of pain, years of resentment I've held and harbored and hid away from my family.  I was "causing drama" as my sister called it, because I was letting it out.  I hate drama.  I don't want to be a drama queen.  I take pains not to be, I take pains to be the peacemaker and the way smoother.  The family talked, I chilled out, and things went pretty much back to normal.  Then I made a joke to some friends and... their joking back just struck me in the wrong way.  It hurt.  I felt labeled, pushed and set apart from people I wanted to be closer to, people I admire and want to be more like, people whose adventurous spirits... I envy.  I felt like all the personal journeying I've been struggling with was slapped with a giant 'INVALID' stamp.

I know... I know intellectually that that is the last thing that was intended.  I know none of the injuries I've felt today was intentional.  I'm not actually being rejected.

But it feels like it.  No intellectual knowledge of good-will can stop it when I get this way.  It's short-lived, I'll be better by tomorrow, and I'll be horribly embarrassed I even posted this, but... as illogical as it is, it's my reality.  Right or wrong, I'm hurt right now.  I'm hurt, I'm sad, I'm angry, I want to fight, I want to scream, I want desperately to be understood and held and taken care of, and I have no outlet for it.  The best I have in me right now goes into not crying in a way that my family will notice, even if I can't entirely stop it.

I feel so guilty for feeling this way.  Objectively, I have no logical reason for these emotions.  I live in privilege, I have people who love me, and more blessings than I can count.  My life is good and I have so much to be grateful for... but this is--as a friend once so wisely put it--not such a great day in the life of me, and I can't decide if I need to just suck it up and shut up because I am wrong/spoiled/being melodramatic, or if I have just as much right to the way I feel, even if it's not PC.

I just want to be authentically MAD for once!  Maybe this is part of learning everything I fasted for and I'm currently failing.  I don't know, but I just want to be mad.