Out of the Closet, Into the Kitchen?

I saw an ad in this week's NYT Magazine: it was a GE Monogram ad for kitchen appliances, featuring a gay couple--two older, affluent businessmen at home cooking in their nice new GE furnished kitchen. (I am trying to find an image of this ad online, but no success) My first reaction was sheer excitement: finally, non-heterosexual advertising! [Side note: I showed a straight friend: "That's a nice kitchen," he smirked. I wanted to smack him.]

But I'm having second thoughts about my excitement. Feminism has long decried the portrayal and use of women in advertising: usually for cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, being mothers. Here a gay man [or maybe both men?] has replaced the woman: but is this actually liberating for either? Are gay men simply being feminized, conforming further to social stereotypes of both male homosexuality and of femininity?

It seems to me that the heterosexual male is still holding reign over his kingdom. Gay men are being placed into advertising by pushing heterosexual women out. We are sharing the same space, but neither "group" is getting to move into the full realm that we should be (and have been) demanding.

Maybe this is a (very) small victory for affluent white gay men, who have finally peeked out from the advertising closet. However, I am skeptical. I don't think women, gay men, or anyone else are progressing much further with this ad.

Even further, it is telling that the ad depicts very affluent gay men who can afford such an expensive kitchen. This group--as long as they conform to certain stereotypes--have been pulled to the "inner margins." Not included, but more accepted, tolerated. [The show "How I Met Your Mother" calls them "G-CWOKs."] But what about lesbians? Transgendered persons? Gay men who aren't rich and don't fit into the "G-CWOK" box? I suspect we are a long time coming before we see anyone like this in mainstream advertisements. And we still need to see more gay men and heterosexual women in ads that don't only portray them as typical stereotypes. And that's just advertising; don't get me started on television (though I hinted at it in my HIMYM comment). We have a long way still to go.

Worship Revised: Thoughts on Feminism and Worship

This past quarter, having taken a required worship class, I spent a good deal of time thinking about feminism as it relates to how people formally worship G*d. Part of this reflection played out in a worship service that I was required to help plan at Bond Chapel (at the UofC Div. School). The service I helped plan was based around the themes of the sermon on Thecla found in an earlier post. Through confession, it took into account women's oppression and violence against women; through a litany, it highlighted the major roles women have played and continue to play in the church. The following is a broader reflection on what it means to bring feminist thought into the realm of worship.

The ultimate goal of bringing feminism and worship together is not to create “feminist liturgy” that is a distinct category from all other worship nor is it to merely "add women and stir" (a phrase taken from theologian Susan Ross). The goal is that liturgy will incorporate contributions from feminist ideology in order to make the liturgy more egalitarian. Our Bond Chapel service can serve as an additional resource for considering how to authentically bring feminist thought and women’s issues to worship, but more work must be done in order to fully bridge the gap between traditional liturgy and feminism. Traditional liturgy follows a form and structure created and written by men of privilege; a liturgy that “bridges the gap” does not entirely abandon the thought and theology that informs the traditional liturgy. However, this traditional thought and theology has to be reevaluated and its dominant role must be decreased in order that new ideas—such as feminist theology and ideology—have an equal role in the shape of liturgy. Like the new vision of spatial arrangement discussed above, an egalitarian liturgy that takes feminist ideas into account will differ significantly from traditional liturgy: new words and prayers will be introduced, and some liturgical pieces may be revised or removed while new pieces are added. Ideally, this new liturgy will take contributions from a multiplicity of voices and ideological perspectives and backgrounds while leaving open space for the addition of new voices.

Tech-Tosterone? Really?

So, I came across an ad in the New York Times today that used the phrase “Tech-Tosterone.”

Seriously?

It was for E-Trade, and I have absolutely no idea what precisely was being advertised, but I about threw up. Maybe it is a creative little attention grabbing statement, but it is entirely male-centered. It screams “THIS PRODUCT IS FOR MEN.” But what is the product? Some online trading thing. I’m sure both women and men can use it, though I’m not interested enough in the product to find out.

But why is this appropriate? Why is this considered good advertising? Just because a company can come up with an edgy, “creative” phrase does not make it acceptable. It continues to perpetuate sexist advertising that dominates the media (watch just about any SuperBowl commercial). “Tech-tosterone” screams that technology is and is supposed to be dominated by men and by male sexuality. In a realm that has traditionally been dominated by men, it sends the wrong message. I can only assume women are not going to be drawn to “Tech-tosterone,” so it perpetuates the assumption that solely men are supposed to understand and use technology, which is (at least to some extent) the cutting-edge and the “future.” And that is why I find this ad both problematic, sexist, and disgusting.

"Our Thecla" (Preached 2/24/10)

After reading The Acts of Paul and Thecla for five different religion classes at our undergrad institution, a good friend told me she hated Thecla so much that she was going to turn Thecla into a swear, “Oh dear Thecla, it’s freezing cold outside.” Thecla evokes strong reactions from those who have heard her story. Perhaps having read the story less than five times, Tertullian wrote, “But if the writings which wrongly go under Paul’s name, claim Thecla’s example as a license for women’s teaching and baptizing, let them know that, in Asia, the presbyter who composed that writing…was removed from office.”

Tertullian echoes the prohibitions of the author of 1 Timothy—“let a woman learn in silence and in entire submission”— He uses the voice of Pauline authority to limit women’s autonomy, reacting to women like Thecla who were taking Paul’s letters to instead authorize their ministry.

Thecla was and is a problem. To our modern ears, Thecla’s story seems a little too wild. There are flashes of lightening, wild seals, fantastic escape after miraculous escape. In the passage we just read, not only is Thecla saved from wild beasts, but the beasts are pitted in an epic male versus female struggle—with the female lioness coming out on top. She then baptizes herself—in a pool filled with deadly seals who are miraculously killed moments before she hits the water. This is not the story we expect to find in the traditional New Testament canon.

But does that mean that there is nothing of spiritual worth in this text? Absolutely not. While the story of Thecla may have been used to authorize women’s leadership, the story was also popular enough to circulate—and Thecla came to have shrines and cults devoted to her. She is officially a Saint. For many early Christians, Thecla and her story had spiritual value.

Thecla, the first female martyr with a radical faith in God, drew people to her story. Thecla gives up everything: her fiancé, her mother, her home, her security—in order to follow Paul and his teachings about chastity, Jesus, and God. She faces adversity and seems to be abandoned by Paul—her teacher—yet she persists in her following of God. And she survives and is finally authorized to teach God’s word.

Though Thecla’s image is inspiring, it is profoundly difficult to preach on this text. God’s activity is fairly clear within the story—Thecla professes her belief and her desire to teach—and God acts to save her so that she can finally achieve this end. What can this story teach us? How can we faithfully read this text when God’s action rarely seems so active or miraculously obvious in our lives?

We don’t live in a world like Thecla’s—where to publicly proclaim the Gospel as an unmarried woman was a dangerous and radical action; but we do live in a world filled with vast inequalities and oppression.

As in Thecla’s story, in order to make our voices heard, many of us have to clothe ourselves in the “fashion of men”—or whatever majority we may not be a part of:

Though women’s rights have improved tremendously in the past fifty years—and though women’s preaching and teaching is no longer forbidden—men still hold more leadership positions, dictate most societal norms, and make more money than women. Some churches still refuse to ordain women—even churches in denominations that legitimate this practice.

Though we no longer live in a society that allows for legal segregation, we live in a world still divided by race, where judgments—whether for a job or who to search at an airport—are made solely based upon the color of one’s skin.

And even though homosexuality is no longer an illegal practice in the U.S., we live in a world where LGBTQ people are still mistreated, looked down upon, and told our relationships cannot legally be recognized. Many of us still clothe our identities from others in order to pass as straight.

We live in a world where people live in the aftermath of tremendous disaster—disaster which strikes hardest in areas inhabited by the most desperately poor.

To all of us, Thecla’s words send a message of hope:

“To the storm-tossed [God] is a refuge, to the oppressed relief, to the despairing shelter, in a word, whoever does not believe in him shall not live but die forever.”

Thecla, a woman marginalized by her gender, her faith, and her desire for independence, believed that God was especially with her at the margins. And though God’s action is rarely miraculously apparent in our lives, we too believe that God stands for and with voices long clothed or silenced. We tell Thecla’s story for the same reason that early Christian women told it for generations: because it represents our faith and our hope that God does and will always act in our world to relieve and comfort the oppressed.

We proclaim Thecla’s story for the same reason that we pass on the stories of faithful women who have come before and after her: Mary, Joan of Arc, Sojourner Truth, Dorothy Day, Rosa Parks. They stand for us as models of women who stood against oppression and proclaim God’s radical love. They remind us that even those who may seem powerless in society can wield much power when they stand and proclaim their radical faith. Through them and their stories, we come to recognize and believe that God can and does work radically through Her faithful people. And we learn to proclaim their message, Thecla’s message—that God is a refuge to the storm-tossed, is shelter to the despairing, and offers relief to the oppressed—as we continue their work to build a more equal and just world. Amen.

Dethroning the god of Masculine Language

And it happened, after the first post! I delayed for a month and a half trying to find the time and the energy to write another entry. Oh well, at least I'm doing it now.

I've been pressured to write about gendered language--something that has always been a "battle" of mine. Changing how we think about language and the defaults that we create is an act that I see as being essential. What I find difficult about writing this post is that there are so many different directions that this post could take. Thus, I begin with a warning: this post could be read as scratching the surface of my thoughts, but it is in no way complete. More than likely, I will have much, much more to write on this topic. That being said, comments (especially constructive ones) are always encouraged. There ends my warning.

My battle for inclusive language began where many begin: God's gender and using gendered-language and metaphors for God. Mary Daly wrote/said, "When God becomes male, the male becomes God" (sorry, I don't have the citation for this). "He/his/him" and "father" are probably the most common Christian references for God--in common discussion, liturgy, and translation of the Bible. However, most Christians will say they believe that God is beyond gender or is genderless. Clearly this belief does not manifest itself in the practice. For many, this is fine: we know God is not actually a man, so it is okay to refer to God solely male imagery. It's more comfortable; it's what we've always done; it's strange to change the language; Jesus did it and so did all of the Church Fathers...and so the list of excuses goes on.

I maintain that this is in fact not okay. In fact, it's hypocritical. If you exclusively use masculine imagery for God, then the God you are speaking about is male. And, as Mary Daly says so well, once God becomes male, then men take the higher ground. Male remains the language default in which the female must decide whether she is included. The male in effect remains God.
I could probably continue write until eternity about male references for God and why I firmly disagree with every argument I've heard defending it. This will be the subject of a future post [hold me to this].

But I move to a more generally concern with gendered language, which is demonstrated in the battle of God's gender. This is concern is: male is default. It happens in every language, English included. But I've noticed it much more particularly as I have started picking up my "ancient lanuages" (Greek and Hebrew to be specific). Unlike English, these languages are actually gendered. Every noun has a gender, and every adjective must be coded to agree with the gender of its subject. There are a lot of ways this can go, but I am going to talk about markedness within language. This is a concept I originally learned in Greek: certain forms are considered more "marked" than others. Unless you have a good reason, you always used the least marked form. For gender, masculine is less marked, neuter and feminine are more marked. This follows in most other languages. If you are referring to a man, you use the masculine. If you are referring to a woman, you use the feminine. If the gender is ambiguous (or you have a mixed group), the gender remains masculine. English-speakers (to speak to what I know) have tried to correct this in common speech (it is now more correct to say "his or her" or even "their" than to say "his"), but masculine still remains the default (most people find it jarring to hear "his or her" and especially just "her").

The problem with this is that it privileges the male, which is the unmarked default. It sounds small, but it is not. Language has power; the way we choose to use language influences our mindsets and what we are used to hearing. To allow masculine language to remain the default continues a system in which men are automatically preferred by virtue of always being included in general language. Those not part of the unmarked group (women) must adapt to deciding whether the language actually includes them in any given situation and to being referred to as part of a gender to which they do not identify.

Of recent, my favorite example of this is from translation of Mark 13.15-16 (part of the apocalyptic sayings of Jesus). My translation of the verse is: "The one on the roof must not go down nor enter from her/his house to take up something, and the one in the field must not return to the things-left-behind to take up her/his garment." If one chooses to bring out the masculine language in this verse, it would read: "The man on the roof must not go down nor enter his house to take up something, and the one in the field must not return to the things-left-behind to take up his garment."
Neither translation is technically wrong: if one interprets this passage to only be speaking to men, then the latter translation makes sense. If one thinks that Jesus is speaking more generally, then the former is more correct. When I produced the former translation on a test, my Greek instructor crossed through the "her" in "her/his." I argued--and still maintain--that my translation is correct as written. Yes, technically I have translated a third-person-singular masculine pronoun ("his" in English) as a gender-neutral term; but in Greek, the feminine equivalent would only have been used if solely women were in mind.

Some might call the latter translation (using only "his") more "literal" but I maintain that this is incorrect terminology. This is the most literal translation if you were translating the text in 1960, when it was still standard in English to refer to both male and female subjects using the masculine. This is no longer standard in English--it is still "acceptable," though I also maintain that it is actually not acceptable to permit sexist language. It is true that Greek does not have the same gender sensitivity that we have today, and it is also true that this makes translating a text into English a challenging task (for authorial intent comes into question). When we translate an ancient text into our own language, we cannot use the sexist language of the past as an excuse for us to continue using sexist language. As I have noted above, there is to much at stake in the way we use language and the power that gendered language has over our thoughts. The male will continue to be God until we are willing to enforce a change in how we gender our language in all areas.