Donald Trump will become the first sitting president to speak at the annual anti-abortion March for Life today via satellite, according to Ben Shapiro of The Daily Wire. This move once again panders to the fan base that got Trump elected in the first place and conveniently comes at a time the president is fighting back against allegations that he paid hush money to a porn star who he said reminded him of his daughter. (You know, family values.)
In a recent article for the New York Times regarding the “gray rape” of a woman with the pseudonym Grace and comedian Aziz Ansari, writer Bari Weiss would have you believe that feminism is the root cause of all the confusion, by turning women into helpless damsels too afraid to use their words:
Writing for The Federalist, Tully Borland makes what he believes to be a compelling case for why Alabamians should vote for Roy Moore, the disgraced judge. It’s so compelling, it can be summarized in a single word:
It’s all about abortion.
And he really wants you to know that he has a 14-year-old daughter, too, so he is appalled — appalled! — at the allegations against Moore, even though he doubts they are true.
This piece originally appeared on Huffington Post.
Everyone has an opinion on what rape is. I was prepared to face disbelief, given my rapist’s notoriety in our small town as an upstanding Catholic. I just never expected that disbelief to come from another rape survivor.
When #MeToo started trending on social media, I mustered the nerve to talk about my assault. The camaraderie from all the brave women sharing their stories gave me hope that I would find the support I needed.
A colleague I’ll call S was quick to respond to my post: “Your perspective is completely off,” she wrote. “You don’t seem to understand what it’s really like to be a rape victim. I was sexually abused by my last boyfriend, so I know what I’m talking about.”
The idea of women gathering to protest against feminism makes as much sense as vegans marching in support of cheeseburgers, but a group of Christian women recently gathered on the Washington Mall to dance, pray, and protest about a movement they feel does not represent them.
“For years, the feminists lied to us,” Christian author Lisa Bevere shouted from the stage. “They said for us to be powerful as women, we needed to act like men.” The women gathered on the Mall raised their hands in praise.
It’s a fact of history that women have had to “act like men,” if not impersonate them completely, to get ahead. To be published, for example, women had to adopt male pseudonyms. To be in theater or attend universities, women would have had to pretend to be men. Perhaps this accusation of being “like men” is more a criticism of patriarchy than feminism itself — but I digress.
If you spent any time immersed in Christian culture, you’ve probably heard the phrases “biblical manhood” and “biblical womanhood.”
Sisters Kristen Clark and Bethany Baird of Girl Defined Ministries believe in those godly ideals, and they share advice on their YouTube channel to help clarify some myths Christian women may have about the subject. I watched their latest video with interest, but the myths they addressed were all very similar: that “biblical womanhood” makes one a doormat or a wimp and forbids women to use their brains.
They barely scratched the surface of my biggest concern about biblical womanhood: that gender, more than ability or skill, determines the direction in which you live your life.
The narrow “complementarian” view of gender perpetuated by Girl Defined puts men and women in boxes rather than encouraging them to be themselves.
This is an open letter of sorts for everyone wondering why I’ve changed; “everyone” including my friends from various churches, bible studies, and small groups. You don’t “get” me anymore. You think I’ve “backslidden.” I get it. Not too long ago, I’d have thought the exact same thing.
But I must digress.
In many ways, my awakening as a feminist has parallels to my spiritual awakening as a Christian. I remember, as a sophomore in college, when dorm neighbors would ask me to go bar-hopping with them, and I had no interest (which had more to do with being introverted and preferring to stay home and read on Saturday nights than any faith-related objections, but I pretended otherwise).
If you were a Christian teen growing up in the ’90s and early 2000s, then you might have had a subscription to Focus on the Family’s Brio Magazine, best described as a godly version of Seventeen. Instead of quizzes like “How to Tell if he Likes You,” you’d find content like “How to Become a Proverbs 31 Woman,” along with all the information you ever wanted on the hottest contemporary Christian bands.
And how not to have sex. That was also very important.
After a few years of hiatus due to a budget crash, it looks like Brio is back.
This year I was once again privileged to take part in the Colorado State Monologues, a rendition of The Vagina Monologues (but more inclusive). The show consists of mostly original monologues and skits by CSU students about issues of feminism and intersectionality.
Below are my two pieces:
I’ve been meaning to write about Tomi Lahren for a while. I’ve been reading about her recent firing from The Blaze after “coming out” as pro-choice, the same way that traffic slows down so drivers can gawk at an accident at the side of the road. The smug, childish part of me praises karma (something I only believe in for smug, childish reasons). The wiser, more introspective part of me thinks, I wonder if there’s any chance she can learn from this.
I’ve had similar “Tomi moments.” Not that I’ve ever had even 1% of her notoriety. But I know the feeling of professing a belief that could be a dealbreaker among the crowd you’re supposed to belong to (or, in Tomi’s case, the one that writes your paycheck). In seminary, I had moments of saying The Wrong Thing (like letting it slip that I drank and tried pot once and wasn’t a virgin and All The Scandalous Things) that cost me respect faster than you can say “Make America Great Again.” Of course, the respect of your peers and the loss of your job are two totally different things. But hang with me for a few moments.
I wonder about Tomi because, in a backhanded, way less extreme scale, I was her. Or at least styled myself as someone who could eventually become just like her, minus the televised pulpit.