when the poet prophet @sarahbessey made me a feminist (#femfest day three)

Welcome to Day 3 of the Feminisms Fest synchroblog on the topic “What You Learned.” Link up below on my blog,seeprestonblog.com, considering these questions: What surprised you this week? What did you take away from the discussion? What blog posts did you find particularly helpful? What questions do you still have?

Feminism was handed to me in whisper-shout by a poet prophet, and I was converted, like the first conversion, by love not an argument.

A few weeks ago I was chatting with one of the women I admire deeply, Sarah Bessey, and it was appropriate to confide in her something I've otherwise not quite made known.

Sarah, I said, we need your voice. Because I wasn't convinced by Rachel Held Evans, by Dianna Anderson, by any of these women we call friends. They made arguments, but you just kept on living. You kept on setting tables. You kept on inviting me over. That's what convinced me.

Now, don't get me wrong, I find Rachel Held Evans and Dianna Anderson invaluable and their minds in argumentation needed; but, in my journey, which is the only journey I have the authority to speak to, it was Sarah's poetic voice that drew me in.

The logic, the arguments, the careful exegesis, was the catechism that followed my belief, but my belief started in the fields where Sarah bangs together pots and pans and sings freedom songs.

Since then, I've done a bit more homework.

I know the arguments. I make them myself. I try and lend a hand in refining those arguments, helping keep them salient, pointed, focused.

But I also keep baking, because in the back of my mind, I haven't forgotten what brought me over in the first place: the wild field belief of a Canadian mama who dreamed big of her big God.

So what strikes me, looking back over these days of Feminisms Fest, considering what I learned, is that what sticks with me, still, are the posts in which I learned other's stories, when their whys were rooted in their who I ams, because this vagabond poet heart hears first that way.

Of course, not everyone does, so I celebrate and promote and commend to you Dianna and Rachel, because they do a freedom song their own way, to the same end. But if you ask me how I got here, I'll give a nod Sarah's way. (And Lauren Winner's.)

So when Antonia writes that a woman should hold forth the Body and Blood because a woman held the Body and Blood, I weep over the beauty.

When Emily takes on the whole of being a feminist, bra burning and laughter and read lines and story singing, I shout, Woman of valour!

When Nicki Minaj all but preaches against sexism, but has to still end it by asking that the clip not be used because she'll "sound stupid," I shake my head in sorrow. [Language warning.]

When a woman reclaims her personhood and worth, when a woman loves big for her son, when a woman weighs children when her world is turned upside down, I'm feeling the stir within me, the big-full-shouting-Holy-Ghost-God-is-with-us, stir.

So those of you who argue and argue well, women and men of valour! Please keep on! Please keep going! We need you!

But for those of you who argue through stories, through life lived, through baked goods and hung laundry, be encouraged. What I learned this week was how much I needed those stories, how much they still form me, how much they keep me going, how much they make me remember why St. Paul calls this whole life resisting systemic sin a fight.

Who knows, you may just be someone's Sarah Bessey.

There are worse things.

This post is part of a series J.R. Goudeau, Danielle Vermeer, and I are thrilled to be hosting: a three-day synchroblog devoted to exploring feminism and its importance---and we're inviting you to join in!

When you're tweeting, use the hashtag #femfest.

Prompts and links:

• {Day 1} Feminism and Me: On Tuesday, February 26, link up at J.R. Goudeau's blog, loveiswhatyoudo.com
• {Day 2} Why It Matters: On Wednesday, February 27, link up at Danielle Vermeer's blog, fromtwotoone.com
• {Day 3} What You Learned: On Thursday, February 28, link up at with me

Ready to join in? Link up below!

when it matters because of two gardens (#femfest day two)

Today, we're speaking of why feminism matters to us. And I find myself here, thinking of this ...

I think of them, sometimes, in that first garden that He planted to the west of wherever Nod was someday to be built by the one who went out of the presence of the Lord.

I think of that man and that woman, father and mother to us all, and the abundance that was first communion, with trees that were told to bring forth and they brought, feeding two hearts woven as one flesh, in that first garden. In that place where there was only one No! and on it hinged the whole of us, and upon it was our unraveling, our undoing, and with it a cosmos wilted into itself. What were songs became groans and the toiling of its waiting, its expectation.

She brought the curse first.

He, his silence, he with her partook and so too condemned us all.

And He came walking, in the first garden, a whisper-shout, "Where are you?" And they hid. They covered their shame and fled Him, until the man pronounced the woman cause, and she the serpent, and maybe it was then, too, that the breaking of us all happened again.

Who knows the moment of sin but Him who first pronounced the No?

Unto the woman He said, I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and thy conception; in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children; and thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee.

I think of them, sometimes, in that first garden that He planted to the west of wherever Nod was someday to be built by the one who went out of the presence of the Lord. I think of how one little verse, one little verse of a curse in the third chapter of the oldest and truest myth, the story of us, could mean all this.

Could mean systemic patriarchy. Could mean that equality was no more. Could mean that the Law of Moses would have to make do in terms of rape. Could mean that a woman was not a person but a thing, property of father or husband, and that her word was worthless, her voice useless.

And you'll think of Deborah. Esther. Ruth.

And I'll blink a few tears back over the thought of them, because in all those pages of those old stories, these stories of us, you have named three.

Exceptions. Not rules. And this was the way of things for a time. For a long time.

And I think of them, sometimes, of that first man and that first woman, in that garden west of Nod, and I think of her as they were cast forth, running east of Eden, and I think of the tangled mess of sin tripping and dancing 'round them in their wake, their feet bringing the news of ruptured cosmos, ruptured creation, and she has done this, first, and he has followed her, and so comes the darkness.

So decays the garden of us all.

I think of them, sometimes, in that other garden, planted by men and God, to the west of wherever Golgotha was, where there had been One who went out of the presence of the Lord.

I think of that Man and that woman, Brother and sister to us all, and the abundance that was empty tomb, with limbs that were told to bring forth and they brought, feeding a people forevermore, after this other garden. In that place where there was only one No! and on it hinged the promise of us, and upon it was our reweaving, our doing, and with it a cosmos blossomed into itself. What were groans became songs and the wait became reception, fulfillment.

She preached the redemption first.

He, His command, He with her sped her on and so too proclaimed to us all.

And He came walking, in the other garden, a whisper-shout, "Why do you weep? Whom do you seek?" And she sought still. She uncovered her anguish and fled to Him, until the Man pronounced to the woman, "Mary," and she knew, and maybe it was then, too, that the redemption of us all happened again.

Who knows the moment of grace but Him who first pronounced the No?

Do not cling to Me, for I have not yet ascended to My Father; but go to My brethren and say to them, ‘I am ascending to My Father and your Father, and to My God and your God.'

I think of them, sometimes, in that other garden, planted by men and God, to the west of wherever Golgotha was, where there had been One who went out of the presence of the Lord. I think of how one little verse, one little verse of a redemption in the twentieth chapter of the most beautiful Gospel, the story of us, could mean all this.

Could mean systemic patriarchy has been overthrown. Could mean that equality is now. Could mean that the Law of Moses would be overcome by the law of grace. Could mean that a woman is a person not a thing, joy of father or husband, and that her word is worth, her voice use.

And you'll think of Mama Mary. Lydia. Junia.

And I'll blink a few tears back over the thought of them, because in all those pages of those old stories, these stories of us, you have named three.

... and there are so many more.

And I think of them, sometimes, of that second Man and that other woman, in that garden west of Golgotha, and I think of her as she was sent forth, running east, and I think of the tangled mess of grace tripping and dancing round her in her wake, her feet bringing the news of healed cosmos, healed creation, and He has done this, first, and we shall follow, and so comes the Light.

So blossoms the garden of us all.

---

(This post draws heavily on Genesis 3 and John 20.)

This post is part of a series J.R. Goudeau, Danielle Vermeer, and I are thrilled to be hosting: a three-day synchroblog devoted to exploring feminism and its importance---and we're inviting you to join in!

You'll be able to hop between our three spaces this week to encounter different voices, perspectives, and stories. When you're tweeting, use the hashtag #femfest. We want to open a large conversation here and see what each of us has to offer and offer well.

Prompts and links:

• {Day 1} Feminism and Me: On Tuesday, February 26, link up at J.R. Goudeau's blog, loveiswhatyoudo.com, and write about these questions: What is your experience with feminism? What's a story or a memory or a person that you associate with that word? Why does it have negative or positive connotations for you? How do you define the term, either academically or personally? What writers have you read whose definitions you want to bring out? Or, if you don't have a definition, what are some big questions you have?
• {Day 2} Why It Matters: On Wednesday, February 27, link up at Danielle Vermeer's blog, fromtwotoone.com, and write about these questions: What is at stake in this discussion? Why is feminism important to you? Are you thinking about your children or your sisters or the people that have come before you? Or, why do you not like the term? What are you concerned we're not focusing on or we're losing sight of when we talk about feminism? Why do you feel passionately about this topic?
• {Day 3} What You Learned: On Thursday, February 28, link up at Preston Yancey's blog, seeprestonblog.com, and write about these questions: What surprised you this week? What did you take away from the discussion? What blog posts did you find particularly helpful? What questions do you still have?

Ready to join in? Head over to Danielle's space, link up, and share!

when i am a christian feminist in retrospect (#femfest day one)

It happened, I suppose as all true things do---like falling in love and falling out of love and and conversion itself---in a sort of retrospect. I had been living and making a sort of life in the acceptance of the thing for so long, that it was not until a particular moment of being asked, outright, if I considered myself a feminist that I felt an obligation to have a particular articulation of my answer to the question.

Retrospect. I'm not sure where the beginning of this is, where the lines of belief and grace quite met, but I can say that it has something to do with the Eucharist, as most of the things I profess belief in do.

All those years ago now, when I sat in the parking lot of the Episcopal church in Waco, when I had told God that I didn't have words to form prayers anymore, when I had made my ultimatum that He would need to show up or I needed to stop doing this cycle of prayer and doubt and leaps and grace, and He came whisper-roar over the hills with, Go inside. Learn to pray again. I walked into a church where a woman presided over the Table, raised Body and Blood, called them the gifts of God, and she placed them into my hands, to my lips.

And I suppose, then, I became a feminist.

Not because of the woman, though she plays a part, but because of the Eucharist itself.

The Eucharist, Christ's body---whatever that means and, in all things retrospect, it depends on what day you ask me, though I say to hell with symbol and feel unease at literal flesh and re-sacrifice---unites in the sign of His grace, His radical overturning of systemic sin, His radical authority in all things, His radical self-giving, self-disclosing, self-effusing Presence in the midst of our ordinary.

He teaches us, as He taught us, as He spoke through prophets and poets and Law---which are, I sometimes think, all the sort of same kind of things just retold age to age---what it is to be human.

Truly human.

Human, in likeness and image of God, as St. Paul terms it, that being in Him, we must put on the new self, which in the likeness of God has been created in righteousness and holiness of the truth.

And this made me a feminist. Well, in retrospect.

It took some time for me to see that the Old Testament suffers under the weight of patriarchy, that what God is going about in the New Testament is usurping not just the sin within us but the sin stitched into the cosmos, the oppressive institutions that enslave, or ensnare, or do whatever it is that results in seeing someone, as treating someone, as less than human.

Feminism is the radical notion that women are people.

Rebecca West. Shall we call her saint in her own right?

See, that's what made me a feminist.

Between the Eucharist and the recognition that women are, in fact, full persons in and through and by and for Jesus Christ.

And this is imperfect. This is unfolding. Women as pastors? Done. Resolved. I'm done discussing it, at least, as something I think still needs discussing. But, see, I come to this all in retrospect, I've come to an answer I can at least give when it comes up, and it does from time to time, when I'm washing dishes in a friend's house after a house party and I find that between the wine and the living, we've circled 'round to speaking of Him.

Yes, I am a feminist. But I am a Christian feminist. And whatever else that might mean or may mean or will mean tomorrow, it means that I believe that apart from Jesus, patriarchy is systemic, oppression will not be overthrown, and any labour toward equality, no matter how noble, will fall short of the glory of God.

---

This post is part of a series J.R. Goudeau, Danielle Vermeer, and I are thrilled to be hosting: a three-day synchroblog devoted to exploring feminism and its importance---and we're inviting you to join in!

You'll be able to hop between our three spaces this week to encounter different voices, perspectives, and stories. When you're tweeting, use the hashtag #femfest. We want to open a large conversation here and see what each of us has to offer and offer well.

Prompts and links:

• {Day 1} Feminism and Me: On Tuesday, February 26, link up at J.R. Goudeau's blog, loveiswhatyoudo.com, and write about these questions: What is your experience with feminism? What's a story or a memory or a person that you associate with that word? Why does it have negative or positive connotations for you? How do you define the term, either academically or personally? What writers have you read whose definitions you want to bring out? Or, if you don't have a definition, what are some big questions you have?
• {Day 2} Why It Matters: On Wednesday, February 27, link up at Danielle Vermeer's blog, fromtwotoone.com, and write about these questions: What is at stake in this discussion? Why is feminism important to you? Are you thinking about your children or your sisters or the people that have come before you? Or, why do you not like the term? What are you concerned we're not focusing on or we're losing sight of when we talk about feminism? Why do you feel passionately about this topic?
• {Day 3} What You Learned: On Thursday, February 28, link up at Preston Yancey's blog, seeprestonblog.com, and write about these questions: What surprised you this week? What did you take away from the discussion? What blog posts did you find particularly helpful? What questions do you still have?

Ready to join in? Head over to J.R's space!

(Image source.)