How I Became a Jesus Feminist
When I was nineteen, a kid asked me what a feminist was. âA feminist is a woman with an authority problem,â I said. It was a black-and-white world I lived in then, one where I had all the answers (…
I want to say so much about this article. I want to quote every other line in it. This straight, white, conservative man knows the deal. And it’s not about taking on the label “feminist.” It’s about empathy, and learning that loving Jesus means loving people. And learning that an integral part of loving people means setting aside the comfort and privilege you have so that you can get into/understand the lived experiences of people you’ve labelled different, wrong, and/or sinful (literally what Jesus did, Philippians 2:5-8)
I am so tired of Christianity by rote.
A Spaghetti of Intersections: To Simply Be Me
And, when I am focused on who God is, I feel free to simply be. Whether or not other people think I say smart things, have a cute wardrobe, am spending my money wisely, or am living a good life, (or whatever else it is), well, it simply doesn’t matter. That’s not to say we should solicit advice from wise friends, but the truth is that God created me to reflect His glory, and He will be the best one to show me what that looks like. When I am focused on Him, I realize that it’s about the work that He is doing, not me, and I’m open to Him using me as He sees fit. If I’m open to Him, I can trust that He will let me know when there is a hurting person I should speak a kind word to or a job opening that I should apply for. And, if somehow I miss or refuse those opportunities, there is grace. I am still loved, and He is still at work.
I’m having a hard time articulating exactly what this looks like it practice, other than to say that I’ve been feeling a little freer lately. Mostly, I think it’s a sense of feeling free to disagree with others (respectfully, of course), to not be afraid to use my voice and speak my mind, to not feel this constant pressure to explain my desires, actions, fears, hopes, etc. to other people. I am me, and that’s okay.
I very much appreciated this recent blog post by a good friend of mine!
Today is National Coming Out Day! You already know this. I considered putting something on Facebook to explicitly verify for my 1,013 friends that I am in fact not heterosexual. But yesterday and today I came across a few articles/blog posts that spoke about how its very OK to not “come out” or not come out in a big “i’m going to announce this to the world!” kind of way. I appreciated those articles for taking the pressure off. I guess there shouldn’t have been any pressure anyway because my closest friends and immediate family members all know that I’m in a relationship with a lady.
I came out to my very Jamaican, very Christian parents about 4 and a half months ago. It went better than I ever expected—I can still claim them as my parents— but dealing with the aftermath hasn’t been near easy. Especially with my mom.
A little over a month ago, I emailed her and my dad pictures of Hannah and me. I wanted them to
see how cute we looked together know what she looked like. They never acknowledged the email ( I expected SOMEthing from my Dad). So, in honor of National Coming Out Day, I decided to ask my mom about the email. I wanted to be bold and brash but I ended up just kind of stuttering the words “So…I sent you an email a while back…did you get it.” She replied, ” The one with the pictures? Yeah, I got it. Now I know what Ms. Anna…Hannah, Hannah looks like.”
And that was it.
She’s still my favorite human.