A Call for Equality and Action (Feminism is Not Just for Females Anymore)

“Of all the evils for which man has made himself responsible, none is so degrading, so shocking or so brutal as his abuse of the better half of humanity; the female sex.”
~Mahatma Gandhi

One of the many things I have learned during this year of living in the big city is how to understand people that are different than myself.  I purposefully became an Affiliate Faculty of the Center for African American Studies. I also audited a class called Introduction to African American Studies. Being a white male, many would think I do not belong there. But what I have learned has been priceless.  To understand a culture other than my own is truly a gift.

I also want to understand the plight of females in a male-dominated world.  In my time here, I have also come to realize how women have been marginalized throughout history.  They were only given the right to vote less than 100 years ago.  In many parts of the world, they are still not permitted to speak or attend school.  I am specifically interested in why they are in such low numbers in the fields of science and technology. So what is happening in society and what can we do about it? I think we need more males who recognize that they can be categorized as feminists.

Many people fight for the rights of minorities, but do not see the stereotypes, abuse, and miscategorization of women as a problem.  Women are told they should keep quiet and let men run the show. They are denied equal wages, told what to do with their bodies (mostly by men in power), and told that they cause themselves to be raped by the way they dress.  They are also used as sex symbols and asked to follow a standard of beauty that is rare and fake.  I know men have their own problems, but how many men have been raped and then told it was because their jeans were too tight or the shirt they were wearing showed their muscles. It is crazy, but that is how our messed-up world works many times.

They deserve more than respect, they deserve an equal place in society.  We need to showcase the female heroes such as the Rosey the Riveters, the senators and doctors, entertainers, housewives, astronauts, and engineers that have enriched out lives.  We also need to recognize the women who work so hard to raise their families when fathers are absent or abusive.  Women deserve to be respected, which includes being protected from abuse at the hands of boyfriends and husbands.

Recently, I have been observing classrooms and, more than once, the teachers have overlooked the female students, asked more difficult questions of the male students, let them drive the conversations, and allowed male students to “save” the females students after they could not answer a question.  It is so subtle that no one even notices the bias.  We have to train teachers to have equal expectations of all their students and push their female students to pursue any career they want, even those traditionally held by men.

I am calling on men to stand up for women, show them respect, allow them to be leaders in society and the church, and help pass legislation to make prostitution, pornography, and the exploitation of women through human trafficking a thing of the past.  We need men strong and confident enough to call themselves feminists and willing to fight for the other half of our society.

Colors

When we gaze upon the many colors of our skin,

We seek to understand how those colors create

attitudes or bring to mind stories from history clouded with hate; lead

others to think their colors are more pure than the rest.

Like a box of crayons, each color brings forth a memory or

emotion or feeling; many constructed by rules we have set.

Each color in the box has a story—of struggle and perseverance,

            hoping for others to have a vision that is both

            clear and colorful at the same time.

As I see students pass, I see the culture in their eyes.

As they speak, a choir of melodies brings their culture alive.

Although I cannot understand them, I speak their language of equality

            and feel their need for respect, their need to open the eyes of the

            blind and the colorblind.

Every color in the box has a beautiful story to tell and a resilient future to build.

4-16-14

Man in the Middle

“One of the criminals who were hanged there was hurling abuse at Him, saying, "Are You not the Christ? Save Yourself and us!"  But the other answered, and rebuking him said, "Do you not even fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation?  "And we indeed are suffering justly, for we are receiving what we deserve for our deeds; but this man has done nothing wrong."  And he was saying, "Jesus, remember me when You come in Your kingdom!"  And He said to him, "Truly I say to you, today you shall be with Me in Paradise."  Luke 23: 39-43

I am a Christian. I have many beliefs that are not popular with fundamentalist views, but neither am I resigned to the drone of atheist naysayers. Both sides have the right to speak, and they both raise their voices like a sounding gong. In the middle is where I sit.  Waiting. Listening.  Hoping the clamor will cease.  But it never does. Why can’t I turn and run to one side or the other?  Why can’t I latch on to the certainty of a side and hold on tight.

Both sides clench tight to their ideologies, blinded by knowledge.  Both sides try to outscream the other.  Both sides snear and turn their heads, sticking their fingers in their ears and humming a tune like immature children on a playground.  Many people appear to meet in the middle, like boxers.  They shake hands, but then go back to their corners before proceeding to beat each other to a bloody pulp.

I always go back to the person of Jesus.  A man on a cross, hanging there for us.  Between two thieves arguing over their crimes.  Jesus speaks blessings on one and is silent to the other. Why is that so? Then it hit me.  Humility.  The criminal who begged for mercy was humble, to the point of asking for blessings even though he was just as guilty as the other man.  Jesus was always a man in the middle.  He was caught between the emptiness and fickleness of the crowd, following him for a mouth full of bread, and the Pharisees blinded by their own righteousness.  I sometimes wonder where I would have been.  Was there anyone else in the middle in Jesus’ time? 

The disciples, for whatever reason unique to each one, stayed with Jesus.  He had the answers.  He had the “words of life.”  They had nowhere else to go. To leave Jesus was to leave their source of strength.  To leave him meant disappearing into the crowd or parading around the temple in fine robes. Either choice was unacceptable.

Recently, I have learned that I ride the middle of controversial issues so many times.  I want to make both sides happy.  I want to keep the peace; to be a peacemaker.  Although it is not a comfortable place to be, that is where I choose to stay.  It is painful, like a teacher breaking up a fight between two bullies, catching the brunt of their anger.  The balm that soothes my heart is the phrase “I see your point.”  I don’t expect them to change, because bullies rarely do. But the hope of communication and lasting peace is more than pie in the sky.  It is the hope of all mankind. Throughout history we have failed to make peace materialize. But I will never give up.

I am not talking about Utopia, because I don’t believe it exists. But I do believe in the peaceful innocence of two small children walking hand in hand, and pray that someday we may find the peace of a small child in a world full of bullies.

Are you a Ragamuffin?

“And Grace calls out, 'You are not just a disillusioned old man who may die soon, a middle-aged woman stuck in a job and desperately wanting to get out, a young person feeling the fire in the belly begin to grow cold. You may be insecure, inadequate, mistaken or potbellied. Death, panic, depression, and disillusionment may be near you. But you are not just that. You are accepted.' Never confuse your perception of yourself with the mystery that you really are accepted.” ~ Brennan Manning

The Rich Mullins biopic “Regamuffin” was not what I expected.  It was not a movie specifically about Rich Mullins, but a movie about all of us. Those of us beaten down by life.  Those of us who have felt the pangs of death, faced the ravages of our bad choices, and who have experienced grace first hand. I had heard that Rich was rough around the edges, but that was an understatement. He was far from perfect. He smoked, had a tendency to drink excessively, and had a problem with language.  He always looked disheveled, almost homeless.  If he had wandered into a church today, he might not have been welcome (kind of like Jesus).  He did not play by the rules and he was not even sure what the rules were. 

I came out of the movie a little confused. Aren’t we supposed to worship people in the media, even Christian artists? With their shiny CD covers and their world tours, aren’t they immune to pain. Aren’t they prayed-up, confessed-up, slickly dressed little church-goers.  I believe the movie helped me not to see Rich as some kind of martyr or a saint that I could follow and emulate. I saw him as more human than I ever believed.  I see his reflection when I look in the mirror.  But he came to understand grace, especially after meeting Brennan Manning and realizing how much God loved him. As he sang in Everyman,

“And the Lord looks down and He understands

The world draws up it’s lines,

But at the foot at the cross there is room for everyone.

And love that is not blind

It can look at who we are and still see beyond

The differences we find….”

The movie was extremely emotional, with portions bordering on ecstasy as I listened to renditions of his wonderful music by the actor who portrayed him. I tossed and turned the night after the movie, wondering what the primary message was supposed to be. I finally came to this one-word conclusion:  grace. It is the most powerful and misunderstood gift that the Father has given us. And it is available for everyone.  The movie also reminded me that I am not perfect, but I am loved.  If that is the gift that Rich gave us in his short 42 years, then his life has meaning beyond his music.  May love guide my life and may I always do what my heart tells me, just as he did. At the height of his music popularity, he chose to leave Nashville and pursue a dream of serving American Indian children with the gift of music. He lived his own life, as rough and unpopular as he might have been with even some in the Christian community. I am thankful for his life and legacy and for the opportunity to experience grace, like everyone who has ever been born.

I am a ragamuffin. And it’s OK. All of us are, even if we don’t know it.

The Reality of Loneliness

When evening draws to a close, and the night’s silent whispers

Bring to mind the emptiness of the night, I wish for the arms of my love

And hope that those arms will bring me warmth and peace

Loneliness is common to every man, a stalking beast with a split personality

Sometimes leading us toward a sense of terror and despair but at the same time

Giving us comfort from the world’s noise; how can that be?

What I learn from being alone is to enjoy the quiet and disappear in my thoughts,

To dream of past and future; to wonder what might have been and what will be.

Loneliness is a silent partner that speaks the loudest in your heart.

How can we be lonely in a crowd of thousands; why don’t those faces bring us comfort,

Knowing that their hearts beat just like ours and they seek the same things?

Somehow a veil hides the truth; we somehow worry that loneliness is unique to us.

Kingdoms rise and fall, yet great men and women of power and prestige 

All share the common emotion of loneliness at one point in their lives.

Comfort may come in many forms, some destructive and some in a lover’s embrace.

Loneliness is a chronic illness that shows itself even in times of great joy and great happiness

Like a tank of gas that has to be replenished, love is the only thing that can fill that void:

Love of a mighty God, a soft voice, or the children of your inheritance, all these may be used as a salve for this disease.

We must all face the beast, but know that time alone is both a blessing and a curse.

Make of it what it needs to be; a time of reflection and review; a time of hope and strength;

Know that it will come and go, but fill the emptiness as you must.

When the morning shines anew, loneliness fades with the newness of hope.