Truths My Mother Taught Me

Today is my mother's birthday and I'm so lucky that I have a space like Feminism and Religion to talk about not only her but also my journey.

Happy Birthday Mom!  I love you!

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The first question I always get asked when I’m in feminist spaces is: “What inspired you to become a feminist?”  Although I could go into the various histories revolving around men’s involvement in the early stages of the women’s movement to the similarities between the LGBTQ and women’s movements, my simple answer has always relied on one person: my mother. 

I’ll be the first to admit (as well as many other people who will join me in the same chorus) that my mother deserves Sainthood for having put up with all the shenanigans I put [and still continue to put] her through.  From running away from our local Catholic church the moment she dropped me off at Sunday School, to swearing like a sailor on leave at a very early age in front of Father Schmidt (who still fondly remembers me and the list I brought in with me to the confessional booth), I taught my mother a few things I do not believe she would had ever thought she'd know during her lifetime. 

Although I pride myself on my rejection of religion, the best lessons that I’ve learned ultimately deal with and relate to the thing I thought I swore off long ago.  I am a feminist because of a Catholic woman who refused to take no for an answer on Sunday mornings because going to church wasn’t about listening to the Priest but rather listening to and learning from the woman who brought me there.  I may have hated sitting in the pews every Sunday but it was there, in that space, where I began to learn what I now love so much.  Though some people may refer to this as lived religion, I suggest that it is more relatable when we refer to it as experiencing religion.  Lived religion, for me, implies past tense, something we’ve studied or done years, days, or even minutes ago.  Experiencing religion is an on-going process, one that happens in the now rather than in the future.  My mother left me when two other truths I’ll never forget:

1.)  Love is love, whether divine or earthly, love does conquer all.
2.)  Trust G-d by trusting in yourself. 

I still remember the day my mother drove away, leaving her baby and only son behind to pursue his dreams of getting a graduate degree in Women’s Studies.  I was scared and I didn’t know whether or not I’d come running home to Wisconsin a week later.  

As the white P.T. Cruiser we rented pulled out of the graduate housing complex I lived in, her words: “I’m so lucky to have a son like you,” resonated in my head.  For the first time, I felt some semblance of divinity watching over me because I trusted my choice and myself.  Trusting in myself led me to find G-d in whatever form he or she chooses to greet me in, I just have to be willing to open the door.

I’m still reminded of my mother’s parting words and the feeling I got each time I board a plane to go wherever those dreams and choices take me.  However, this time, instead of hearing her say that she is the lucky one, I just chuckle, and smile as the plane lifts off the ground, and realize that it is I who is the lucky one. 

I never gave much credence to religion but through my mother, I met G-d, and through her I understood that I’m not a feminist because of the books I’ve read or the degrees I acquire but rather because of the woman I call mom. 

Happy Birthday Mom!  I wish I was there to celebrate with you in Wisconsin.

The Hot Seat

I've kept quiet during the whole #Hugogate that has taken the feminist blogosphere by storm.  Although I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, I took a moment to step back, examine the situation, and think about the next step not only for myself but also for all of those who identify as feminists and happen to be men just like me.  Men are here, doing good work, and making strides towards equality alongside women and yes, we can be angry over what happened, but lets use that as a force for good and overcome this pain and anger and continue to create a world that we all want to live and work in together, rather than further apart.  As always, thanks to Feminism and Religion for not only having faith in me since the start of the project but also for continuing to have faith in me and the work I do. 

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I've been thinking a lot about what it means to be a male feminist lately.  As the only man to be a permanent blogger on this very site until my colleague and friend Kile Jones came on board, I took my role, as a man in a traditional feminist (online) space very seriously.  Although the ongoing struggle to be a male feminist is one continually wrought with dialogues about power and positionality (amongst a host of many other topics), I am often conflicted when I see male feminists take advantage and destroy the hard work that many, specifically on this site and beyond, worked hard to build and defend.

Not wanting to reopen old wounds or start new online battles, men have been involved in feminism for quite some time.  From James Mott chairing the first women’s rights convention, to radical feminist Andrea Dworkin’s life partner John Stoltenberg, to Michael Kimmel and Michael Kaufman’s life long work to legitimizing not only men in feminism but also what it means to be a man who works for gender equality, being a man in feminism isn't easy and that’s how it is supposed to be.

I’ve wrote on this blog that men often have to deal with an internalized misogyny that is a born characteristic trait that imparts that idea that men are not only dominant but also more powerful than women so they should, naturally, be atop of the proverbial pecking order.  This internalized misogyny leads many men, who already or want to exist in feminist spaces, to speak up more than the women in the room when they should really be listening.   However, what is more important than this internalized misogyny is how men, specifically, male feminists, fall victim to their ego by wanting to be the sole male feminist.

While I still believe that men are endowed with these characteristics as a result of purposeful and subconscious cultural, societal and religious imagery that shows men as Gods, it is important to realize that while there the image of the one God may be something that many men idealize and aspire to, the idea of the one male feminist doesn't exist and it is not supposed to.  Those who strive to be the male feminist are doomed to fail and they hurt those who came along for their ego driven ride and the feminist cause they sought to be a part of.

When it comes to leading, men are told to get to the front of the line no matter what the cost or who they hurt and women are told to take a backseat  However, when it comes to feminism, especially men in feminism, men must to go to the back of the bus first and work their way up to the front fully knowing that although they may never reach that coveted front seat, the work they did to help the cause was just as important because equality doesn't mean anything when there is only one voice screaming from the rafters.

Hopefully the hurt that has been caused as of late can be healed and as a result more men join the cause to stop all forms of injustice that threaten not only women’s equality but also equality for all, no matter what.

“Vaginas are Everywhere!”: The Power of the Female Reproductive System

Having the ability to share my thoughts and my ideas with the Feminism and Religion Project is a continual honor.  I hope you enjoy this latest piece. 

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I have a beautiful picture of vagina hanging on my wall.  However, for the longest time it was in the back of my closet, with a plastic bag covering it.  I wasn’t ashamed of it but my ex-boyfriend, like most gay men, refused to have it on the wall where he could see it.  He is now long gone, the vagina is now out and proud. 

I bid on the picture one fall during a showing of the Vagina Monologues at Claremont School of Theology.  One of my best friends was in the show and I had always loved its powerful message.  I walked out of the theatre, waiting for my friend, and there it was: the picture of the vagina.  I found myself caught up in its beauty.  Its gaze had mesmerized me.  The outlying layers of red, the contours of its shape, they all began to mold into a figure before my eyes.  While I have never thought of myself as a religious person, I realized that at that moment I was no longer looking the old photo but rather I was staring at the outline of the Virgin Mary.  At that moment, I realized that I had to have the picture.

My ex boyfriend was ashamed of the photo.  I let him shame me into putting it in the back of my closet and cast it away like it was nothing.  Like the experience, call it religious or not, had never happened.  When we ended our relationship, I found myself inconsolable and pacing up and down my stairs in a never-ending cycle of sadness and downheartedness.   As I was pilfering through our items, I came about the picture.  I saw it and for a split second, I was no longer sad.  I placed it in a position on the wall that used to hold a picture of my ex and I and proudly stood back and felt a sense of calm take over me.  Slowly but surely, I began to box up the rest of the stuff I had hidden away from my friend during the mass exodus of memories and replaced them with images that helped me begin to heel. 

That’s the power of the vagina: its births new life into the world, even when one does not think life is possible.  It is not just an organ but a vessel that proudly and respectfully births and re-births us all back into a world that has shunned and cast us away.  Vaginas are powerful not in the classic sense but in the uniting and ecstatic transformative bliss that they bring into the world. 

While they are a sense of beauty to some, they also serve as a symbol that needs to be controlled by others.   While some shove vaginas into the back of closets, covered in a plastic bag, others like to legislate against them.  Unlike traditional phallic sources of power, vaginas are an inward expression of beauty and power that take place within a woman’s body unlike external sources of power and size that men like to claim their penis’ represent. 

Nice girls don’t say the word vagina.  Rep. Lisa Brown (D-West Bloomfield, Michigan) learned this lesson the hard way after announcing on the floor that she “was flattered that [all the men were] so interested in [her] vagina, but no means no.”  She was subsequently barred from speaking the day and the controversial abortion bill, which makes it practically impossible for women to obtain abortion services in Michigan, cleared the House with a seamless majority of male support.

While men like to say that they respect women, I find it hard (specifically as of late) to believe anything a Republican (or a Democrat in some cases) says.  They would rather have women sit in a corner and wait silently with a dunce cap on their heads as men dictate what they should do with their bodies and how they should behave.  As of late, conservative men like to think of women and vaginas as two separate entities without realizing that without one you cannot have the other.  These men are afraid of women and more importantly their vaginas not because they signify difference but due to the sheer power they represent.  The ability to create, harbor, and in some cases, if the woman chooses to do so, take away life, is a gift and it is a gift, that as of late, is scaring men half to death. 

Wherever we look, there are vaginas.  From the birthing room to the floor of the Michigan House of Representatives, vaginas are everywhere and they serve an important part in shaping and empowering our everyday lives.  Regardless of whether or not these conservative men, not only from Michigan but also from all over the United States, agree is a matter worth fighting for and in some cases worth dying for. While Rep. Mike Callton (R-Nashville, Michigan) or Ari Adler, Press Secretary for House Speaker Jase Bolger (R-Marshall, Michigan) were outraged over Rep. Brown’s statements, they did not take the time to realize that they were only adding fuel to an already blazing fire within each and every woman who is sick and tired of having both her vagina as much as herself talked for and by men who believe they “know best.”

Well, to all those men, I, along with every other vagina wielding women and allies say, we’ll see you next Tuesday.  Vaginas are everywhere and well men, you’re just going to have to get used to it.