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After kicking over the Christianity / homosexuality thing for a fair while, things seemed to come to an ugly head for me at the conference the other night.
I’d been talking about it with a couple of people, testing the waters to see if there was any hope of reconciling my feminist / gay rights beliefs with any kind of ‘christian’ faith. It seems I kind of took a step out in both directions – into the gay world, and back into the Christian one. It wasn’t until last week that I became convinced I was doing the splits.
Now though, that may have changed. I chanced across Tim’s new blog: Rite of Reply, and happily spilled my guts. I’m glad I did. Not only did his response suddenly make me feel a whole lot less alone and a whole lot more hopeful, he also referred me to the blog of Anthony Venn-Brown, a Christian GLBT activist. With a bit of jumping I also got to this:
http://www.recycleyourfaith.com/2010/06/14/reconsidering-the-bible-and-homosexuality/
After doing gender studies at Uni it’sbecome impossible for me to look at this issue with the old Christian ignorance any more. Christians, those who are supposed to be agents of love, acceptance and non-judgement, have been some of the most oppressive agents of harm to GLBTI’s.
While I want to believe in God, it is Christians that seems to make it impossible for me. Since finishing my degree I’ve moved home only to have two world collide. I’ve felt utter hopelessness at the possibility of reconciling being a Christian as well as a feminist and LGBT advocate (ok, so I’m not an ‘advocate’ advocate, but I did go to the Gay marriage rights rally, and I do openly call people on their homophobia. That makes me an advocate, right??)
It is so uplifting to suddenly see, when I thought there was no hope of that, that it is possible.
I can’t quite explain how exciting this is for me to hear. I feel like I’ve been on this hideous lonely journey of trying to assimilate my feminist/gender studies with Christianity. The more I’ve dug the more incompatible they’ve seemed, not from a “gospel” point of view, but from the responses I’ve got from people. Over the last 3 years of steadily getting further and further away from the traditional church point of view, “Christian” has come to mean for me “Upholders of the patriarchal heterosexual nuclear family.” Every conversation I had with family or christian friends about feminism, or especially, homosexuality, has resulted in an “awkward silence” or a blatant “shut-down” …
Most feminists and GLBTI activists that I’ve encountered at Uni seem to be atheists, probably for the very reasons that religion has been a massively oppressive force for both women and gay rights. (which was nastily confirmed to be at the recent conference).
I’ve been asking the question over and over: “If Christianity is so all-accepting, why aren’t our churches full of gay and lesbian people? Or not even full…. why aren’t their ANY openly GLBT people in our churches?” It doesn’t say much for the whole diversity in the church thing.
Now I see there are people out there actively trying to change this.It feels like somebody just wrote “THERE IS HOPE” in the sky with a skywriter….
The L Word.
Woop!
“But suddenly, at the edge of her mind, Religion appeared, poor little talkative Christianity, and she knew that all its divine words from ‘Let there be light’ to ‘It is finished’ only amounted to ‘boum.’” – E.M Forster, A Passage to India.
I suppose love was there once. In amongst the politics and the prejudices and the rules of admission. Love had pride of place once, actually—in the middle the mantelpiece, in the centre of the table, at the head of the bed. But love didn’t quite answer all of the questions, you see. Love was quiet, unassuming. In the end it headed into a corner to wait silently until it was noticed. I think love was eventually swept under the carpet.
It’s still there waiting, actually. There’s a few people who know where it’s hiding. They drag it out every now and then, put it on parade, throw it a party, put some of it to good use. Those who aren’t quite sure where it went try to recreate it—paint a portrait, make a sculpture. They grind it into a powder and put it on their faces, in their hair. They sprinkle it on their skin, they ingest it.
I heard that love can be found in a book, in black ink on white pages. Yes, love lies dormant in print. Edited, compiled, reworded, translated. But love has never mixed very well with black and white. It’s too colorful, takes some getting used to. If love was a fruit, it might be an apple (versatile: green, yellow, a hundred shades of red). But the black print says the apple was loves downfall. The man says it was the woman.
Ah, the woman. She is the virgin or the whore; Mary or Delilah. She is sexless or sex; the white veil or black heart. But I am blue in the cold and pink in the heat. I brown under the sun and when I’m sick I am green. Who can tie me up in a neat little box now? My paper is torn and my string unravelled.
(I’m afraid I’ve lost the end, and I can’t quite remember where it began.)
Oh! That’s right. It began with the man. The man on a Monday, in a suburb not a few blocks from here. The man who promises to take all my pain away with some hefty books, a few hard talks and a mustard seed of faith. He’s always there—in the street, near the cafe’s. Felt bible in hand, bony skull as hard-set as the thoughts inside; “do you know where you’re going?”
The man’s at the podium, shaking hands, weilding words. On Wednesday he’s a black suit, a white shirt (you know the one I mean). He fits into the squares like words fit into verses. On friday it’s the gym; pumping iron, sweat like drops of blood. Strength of muscle and bone, peppered with arrogance, salted with power.
But there’s only one man, you say to me. One man, one love. Yes, against remarkable odds. Love exists only in only one culture’s history. One man who came at one time to one place. For those already dead? For those across the world who could not know it? To those of another race, another tongue, to those of anotherGod?
Oh, I’ve tried to argue. But you are a file-o-fax of every inadequate Sunday School answer I’ve ever heard. Your without choice and without room for grey. You are a veritable cathedral of right. There are no chinks in the armour. Your boundaries are established and your cases closed.
And you only tell me I’m not quite right in the head. I am not quite right; my hair is too short and clothes too tight and the devil’s face is too close to my pillow. I use words that don’t exist in your dictionary and my eyes cannot see right from wrong. Oh, I can’t make it easy for you. I am outside the parameters. I am outside your mythical garden and your nuclear family. Outside your binaries, and generally out of order.
I suppose love existed once. But it was not in that mythical garden or that black and white text. It was not without colour or choice or valid opinion. It was not without women or gays or Muslims or atheists. And it did not come from the father.
Dear June,
Well it’s been four weeks since you rolled around and I’ve become nothing but a consumer. No purchases (I’m broke), living off rice and veggies (and the charity of friends and family). But still I consume. I’m all input and no output these days. Day after day I sit (the stool, the bed, the sagging purple couch). I sit and I stare and I listen (words, images, noises). These are my life now – I am nothing but a sponge, soaking it in. Oh, I know it’s wrong, (but what else is there to do, darling?) And the words and the pictures are so pretty, so delightful. And the wind and the rain so cold outside this time of year. So much better to stay in.
And, oh! Did I tell you about The Birds? I ate Pizza in the dark and watched them attack again and again – the crows and the sparrows and the seagulls. And all the people running, in their pretty clothes. And the sets catching fire, the children with the blood on their faces. I drank it all in, yes, I did.
I almost forgot to tell you about her, Melanie Daniels (her real name’s Tippi Hedren, or maybe it’s not since the ‘Tippi’ was in quotations). All polished and bronzed, with those cornflower blue eyes and batting lashes. That’s the spectacle really, you see darling. Oh I know what Laura Mulvey says (don’t I know!), but how I wish sometimes I didn’t (because it’s so lovely just to look, darling). To watch her preen and strut and flutter, and to watch the man that watches her.
The last scene – (I must tell you!) I was breathless and waiting, waiting for Hitchcock‘s parting blow. There always is one, you see (a death, a revelation, a murder). And there it was – the blood again (this time her blood), and the pain and distress and horror. There was gasping and crying, as her hair came loose. Her face (oh yes!) that half-orgasm look of agony and ecstasy as they pecked at her flesh and flapped and thundered and scratched at her face. And those close-up shots (the lips parted, face tilted, her eyes half closed and half opening), my god, it was almost too much. Oh I know it’s nothing but pure sadism, darling – but (even if he is a misogynist), he really is a genius, isn’t he?
- Your faithful Hitchcock fan.
Have spent the last day mucking around on Goodreads, and ended writing a feminist rant-review about the Christy Miller Series. It’s something that’s been brewing for a couple of years I think – which I only had the clarity to write about now. For me these books are all tied up in my larger issue with Christian marriage and sexual morality. If this is totally boring for everyone but myself I’m not too offended – hashing out my thoughts on this was good – it got me all worked up and I haven’t felt like that in a while!
After growing up in a Christian community where The Christy Miller Series and other Christian Teen Fiction were read, swapped, borrowed and believed in, it’s only in the last few years that I have a strong critique to make of these books. Robin Jones Gunn‘s Christy Miller and Sierra Jensen series are of the same ilk as earlier novels such as the Elizabeth Gail series – teen stories about a girl growing up and struggling with adolescent issues just like ‘everyone else’, only at the same time discovering a faith in God. It is this journey of faith that influences the decisions the protagonist makes regarding friendships, relationships with boys and dating – learning to trust her ‘father God’ becomes the most important learning curve in life, with His laws and ways becoming the moral compass that guides her decisions. As a teenager I gobbled up these stories with delight, trying to make them fit with my own life, only to find that they didn’t, for a number of reasons.
My biggest problem is that these books are the modern Christian reincarnation of the Cinderella Story; the homely girl blossoms into a pure young woman and gets the Christian boy of her dreams at the end of the story – as long as she follows the rules and stays chaste. Christy, Elizabeth and Sierra are modeled on patriarchal heroines – despite having career aspirations, their overriding desire is to be married, and they wait longingly for the boy their Father God has picked out for them. Further, it is the male (both God and their future Husband) that must take the action. In these moral tales, as long as the girls flee the temptations of sexual experimentation with non-christian boys or *going too far* before marriage, everything turns out okay. Christy even writes letters to her future husband, the one that God has picked out for her, and constantly prays to God for His guidance in helping her wait for him.
My emphasis on these issues may seem an over the top, since alot of the earlier Christy books are lighthearted teenage fun. However the last three Christy books (The College Years) become far more serious in their themes. Despite the author never explicitly discussing sex, or even using the word (and this fact is also problematic), the entire narrative works towards Christy and Todd’s wedding, when (I don’t have the book here so I can’t quote) the Bride will “give herself” to her husband on her wedding day (or night). (I’m not even going to go into the whole “woman as object” problem with this since that’s another whole topic altogether.) The very last few pages of the Christy series culminate in a conversation with Christy’s Dad, in which he tells her how proud he is to be giving her away knowing that she *waited*, that she is pure on her wedding day. I can’t quite remember… but I think some metaphor is evoked about the wind in the trees applauding her on this as she walks towards Todd – the ‘Man of faith’ that God planned for her (arguably since before she was born, or at least, since the first book when Christy meets Todd at aged fourteen). While this idealistic ending might seem like a simple happily-ever-after romance that bears no further examination, I actually feel that Christian Teen Fiction has alot to answer for in its perpetuation of such a narrative. While fairytales are myths which re-inscribe values regarding marriage and monogamy which are often shared by both Christianity and patriarchal society, the narratives of these Christian novels also stand as products of the Faith itself. This being, I feel they warrant a critique outside of ordinary fairytale or fiction. For me, applying the patriarchal fairytale to modern Christian teen fiction is problematic for a number of reasons: 
1. The ‘Christian’ novel is changed from a narrative centered around a faith journey with the goal being a closer experience or understanding of God, to a romance infused with religious values, with the goal being the attainment of a God-ordained Prince Charming.
2. Fate and Destiny of romance novels and fairytales are replaced by God – who plans and ordains events and the ultimate happiness of the protagonists. Further, God becomes like a genie who grants the wishes of those who trust him.
3. The books perpetuate unrealistic expectations for Christians regarding romance. In reality, most of us are not going to get married at aged nineteen to the first boy that we kiss or meet at fourteen. While this might seem an erroneous point that applies to all fairytales and romance novels (the ‘that’s why their fantasy’ argument) it is problematic for the Christian in that a force that they attribute as real in their lives (God) is also a present and powerful force in the book. Sure, you might argue, Christians aren’t dumb – they can tell the difference between the ‘real’ God and the God in the Christy Miller Series. But from personal experience, the myths perpetuated in the Christy Miller series (that of God planning the ‘one’ for you) are alive and well in real life. Which brings me to my next point…
4. The books are damaging to young Christians faith. I know this sounds extreme and I’m not usually one for making extreme claims akin to the ones in the ‘letters’ section of The Age, but this time I’ll stand by it. I don’t know how many Christian girls I know who are waiting patiently hoping that they meet their Prince Charming; the Christian boy who God has planned for them. This happily-ever-after marriage belongs to the package of marketable Christianity of the ‘prosperity doctrine’ brand. Bible verses such as the good ol’ Jeremiah 29:11 are happily isolated to prop up this idea: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a future and a hope.” This verse is applied out of context to just about anything in pop-Christianity. For Christian girls in western patriarchal society, those plans include the fairytale ending with the husband of their dreams. But sadly, it’s not what all of them get. Just like in the secular world, some miss out. What happens then? For non-Christian’s, I guess it’s bad luck and a Bridget Jones (before Mr Darcy) life of one night stands and cigarettes. But for Christian’s, who have a “loving God” calling the shots instead of “luck” – well, it can be faith shattering. Now, I have alot of other reasons for no longer following Christianity, but I think this need not be one. The Christy Miller series, which ascribes its happily-ever-after to God instead of luck, encourages the problematic, counter-gospel message of pop-Christianity; that if you follow God, all your dreams will come true. When they don’t, faith rapidly declines. In this respect, the Christy Miller Series set teenage girls up for a fall.
5. Changing tacts, the books encourage a glorified view of sex, and perpetuates purity myths through fear. One of the things that bothers me the most about Christian marriage is the use of the metaphor of the Church as a Bride and Jesus as a Groom. Sure, this is in the Bible, but it’s used as a metaphor to describe the Return of Christ as being like a marriage, not as a metaphor to describe marriage as being like humanity’s union with Christ. In its inversion, which is constantly used at just about every Christian wedding I’ve been to, this metaphor makes marriage out to be a spiritual union through which the couple attains a closer likening to Jesus. This has to be the most ridiculous myth about Christian marriage. The Christy Miller series, which of course uses this metaphor in ‘I Promise’, is a clear example of the way that Christian romance, marriage, and sexual union are glorified through association with God, who makes the union a holy sacrament. The fact that sex is never actually discussed but only vaguely implied works to create an even more unrealistic and fantastical view of sex – it becomes the culmination of the couples spiritual union – a vision far from the awkward, clumsy and painful experience that the couple’s first time is likely to be.
In conjunction with this glorification of marriage (and sex), the Christy Miller Series, like much popular Christian myth, perpetuates sexual abstinence before marriage through fear. No, it’s not the fire and brimstone fear of judgement, death or eternal punishment belonging to an older, more conservative brand of Christianity, but it’s watered-down equivalent for modern women – fear of missing out on ‘the one’. The Christy Miller series supports a popular idea that sexual morality is the scale on which God’s favour in this area of marriage is measured. Sure, it never explicitly says that the slut will never find a good man, but this is implied in the realization of the opposite – the chaste girl being rewarded. Christy is rewarded with Todd because of her trust in God and her resistance of temptation when opportunities arise. The series skirts around discussion of sex – again quoting the Bible for its explanation – “do not awaken love until it so desires” (Song of Songs 2:7). Sexual experimentation, ‘dating’ (especially of non-Christians) is discouraged lest this interfere with the delivery of God’s ‘chosen one’. Thus, the series encourages sexual morality through a threat specific to its target audience – you won’t get the guy if you sleep around.
Well, I realise this has turned into a considerable rant raising alot of problems I have with religion that extend far beyond Christy Miller. But these books have certainly been an influence on plenty of girls including myself and embody alot of issues that I find very problematic in popular Christianity. The disillusionment I’ve experienced firsthand when God doesn’t work like He does in Christy Miller has contributed significantly to my own exploration and discovery of the patriarchal myths that continue as dominant forces behind pop-Christianity.
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