"Give Me Sex Jesus"

I watched Give Me Sex Jesus, a documentary about the Christian evangelical purity movement, for the first time last night.

That title though.

The film is streaming for free on Vimeo. 

Background: I've had my eye on this documentary ever since the Kickstarter campaign in 2012 when the title was "Jesus, Don't Let Me Die Before I've Had Sex." I attended the same church as Matt Barber (the director) for a few years, and I know some of the people interviewed. 

No, I never signed an abstinence pledge (though memories of doing so are notoriously tenuous) or wore a purity ring--though I might as well have. 

Purity culture raised me, and I fully embraced its principles. 

So, watching this documentary, I had quite a few thoughts and emotions--

I laughed. I cringed. Many of the interviews were some combination of funny, poignant, and heartbreaking. In the end, I wanted more.

I wanted to know how it all turned out--how the gay son of a prominent Christian family worked out his faith and his sexuality, if his dad ever spoke to him again or invited him to family dinners.

I wanted to know what happens when getting married doesn't give you the amazing sex life you were promised, how purity culture affects Christian dating culture, and how the filmmakers came to make the film that they made. 

Truthfully, it is the story behind the story that intrigues me the most. And it's a quite a story: 

Matt Barber left his faith and his marriage during the making of this film, as he details in this Life After God podcast. He is currently in a relationship with producer and co-filmmaker Brittany Machado.

Machado tells a similar story about leaving Christianity. She writes about having sex for the first time in college after a youth spent embracing purity culture:

"If my faith were a Jenga tower, then this brick of sexual truth was pulled from the bottom of the stack. From there everything started wobbling a bit."

This. This is the story that I'm interested in. Matt and Brittany's stories make plain what I have long suspected: That if you give up on the sex part, then you might as well give up on the Christian part too--

Richard Beck at his blog "Experimental Theology" writes about how purity is a metaphor, and not a good one, for sexual morality. Unfortunately, the purity metaphor seems to hold true in another way: 

Essentially, just as there is ONE way to have sex (in heterosexual marriage), there is also only ONE way to think and feel and talk about sex. Anything I might think or say or feel about sexuality that contradicts this doctrinal purity throws my entire faith into question. 

It feels like heresy--which is probably why I find stories about leaving Christianity so fascinating.

Watching this documentary, I realized that for me, sexual morality and what I do with my body are so intertwined with my identity as a Christian, that I can't even begin to untangle them. 

It's hard to imagine other aspects of my identity in the same way:

For example, if being a feminist or a writer or a college graduate or heterosexual or writing about racism seemed to be incompatible with Christian faith, would I have left long ago?

Maybe this happens to us all. We hit a wall--something that seems irreconcilable--whether it's our sexuality, our beliefs about the nature of men and women, racism, evolution and the study of science, "Christian" political beliefs, etc. 

In the end, I don't think it's about sex (YES IT IS! EVERYTHING IS ABOUT SEX!), but about purity--about a certain kind of certainty that I can no longer embrace.

It's about asking the kinds of questions that I want to ask, having the kinds of conversations that feel taboo, writing about what I want to write about.

Wanting these things and pursuing them doesn't feel like leaving Christianity, but it does feel like leaving behind being a certain kind of Christian, if that makes any sense.

Even if I didn't have to give up faith itself, I would have to take a leaving of a different sort--leaving behind evangelical Christianity and the community that has felt the most like home here in Los Angeles.

More conversation:

Watch the film HERE
Life After God podcast
Hot Buttered Shame on the Dana Gould podcast
How Christians Have Sex - Personal response to watching "Give Me Sex Jesus" from a lapsed Christian (?) slash LA comedian

If you've watched the film and want to talk about it, or you haven't the watched the film and want to talk about it, I'm here. Let's talk.

Women, Men & Mixed Messages

Photo by John Wiley 

So, I came across this quote on a guy's online dating profile. Although there was no attribution, I instantly knew where it came from: the infamous "Sexodus" article that inspired this response.

This same gentleman states in his profile: "I believe in gender equality, feminists need not apply"--which is hilarious in its own right. 

But I am not here to make fun of some random guy on the internet (okay, maybe just a little bit). I am here to dissect this passage of text, because I was an English major and that's what you do.

Besides, I'm fascinated by what provoked a guy to quote it at length on his online dating profile.

Surely, there must be something here--something compelling that resembles an actual thought. Because at first glance, I'm feeling a bit dubious. 

Here's the quote, presented completely out of context because that is how I found it: 

"Women have been sending men mixed messages for the last few decades, leaving boys utterly confused about what they are supposed to represent to women, which perhaps explains the strong language some of them use when describing their situation. As the role of breadwinner has been taken away from them by women who earn more and do better in school, men are left to intuit what to do, trying to find a virtuous mean between what women say they want and what they actually pursue, which can be very different things."

"Women" - Who are these women? Do women represent some monolithic entity that speaks and acts as one, has a unified message and point of view, perhaps holds secret, underground meetings about the mixed messages they plan on sending men to keep them confused and under gynocentric control? [If you are part of this underground society, please email me. I bet you guys have awesome snacks.]

"Men" - Also presumably a monolithic entity representing all male humans.

"Mixed messages" - I'm so intrigued. What are these mixed messages and how can I start sending them. Seriously feeling out of the loop here. Was it that time I contradicted myself and said I like Coke better than Pepsi? Sorry about that.

"The last few decades" - I feel like the timeline here is a bit vague: So...starting in roughly the year 1985, women started sending men mixed messages:

Man: What do you want to eat?
Woman: Italian. No, Chinese. No, Korean BBQ. No...I take that back, Italian.
Man: God, Woman, make up your mind!!!

I could see how this would be frustrating, but unless there is a memo out there from "All Women" to "All Men," I'm not sure how the author can prove this multi-decade mixed-message sending conspiracy. I've been alive for at least some of this time period, I think, so I'm also wondering at what point I began sending mixed messages to men. I doubt it was when I was born, though I suppose my birth could have been sending out some kind of message.

Just trying to assess my role in the damage here--especially since, as a feminist, this is probably all my fault.

[Side note: If a guy texts me "Sup" and I answer "Not much" is that considered a mixed message? Asking for a friend.]

"...leaving boys utterly confused..." - Wait a minute--I thought we were talking about men here, but now we've somehow reverted to boys--who I am sure spend at least 80% of their waking hours thinking about those insidious mixed messages women seem to be sending them. You're right, this does seem wrong.

"...about what they are supposed to represent to women" - Now, I don't mean to be insulting, but I spend exactly zero seconds of my time thinking about what I am supposed to represent to men. In fact, I spend the same amount of time thinking about what I am supposed to represent to anyone.

Huh. I'm starting to see why women have all the power. If boys/men are spending that much time contemplating what they are supposed to represent to women (A partner? A sperm bank? A guy on the street? A father? A brother?), then maybe men are ultimately subservient to women.

"Strong language" - I think you mean misogynistic language.

Those mixed messages I've been sending make it totally okay for boys/men to call me a "castrating bitch." I get you. Is it the fact that I made more money than you last year? Please don't hate me.

"Role of breadwinner" - Men don't automatically inherit this role because they are men. Yeah, I guess that could be confusing.

"...taken away from them" - Wow, those feminist assholes. How dare they earn more than men do. I think women should earn less by default, then maybe those poor boys will stop being so confused by the mixed messages.

"...by women who earn more and do better in school" - Since these are the only two metrics of comparison that matter, I can see why men would be upset. Someone is better than you at something, and that someone is a woman. Unacceptable!

"Men..." - Oh. We're back to men now. What happened to the boys?

"...are left to intuit what to do" - Intuition is hard. I guess before this shift in power relations the men's monolith simply issued a manual on how to be a man, and things like shifting gender dynamics and evil mixed messages were a thing of the future. Times really have changed.

"...trying to find a virtuous mean..." - Shoutout to Aristotle! I like it.

"...between what women say they want..." - There I go again--missing the semiannual gathering of all women during which we discuss what we want and then tweet about it to the male masses.

"...and what they actually pursue..." - I'm a little bit lost here as to how all women pursue the exact same things. I mean, I could be wrong here, but it seems like not every woman has the exact same goal in every situation. I mean, have you talked to any women lately? No? That's what I thought.

"...which can be very different things." - Women! They're contradictory! Unlike men who always say and do the exact same thing. None of those confusing mixed messages.

Damn. That was disappointing. I thought I would learn something about how people I disagree with think thoughts, but instead I feel like I was hit over the head with a frying pan. There's less than a thought here. There are -18 thoughts.

And yet someone, somewhere is nodding their head vigorously in agreement about women and their mixed messages.

So here's an anti-mixed-message:

That quote was stupid as ****.

If the above message was too mixed for you, please contact me and I will endeavor to make it less mixed, perhaps by doing some skywriting.

Have a good one.

Undateable: Why Single Christian Guys are All Dented Cans - The Myth of Persistence

Photo by quinn.anya

So I've started doing this thing where I'm completely honest with men. Why?

Well, for one, it amuses me and my dark sense of humor. I get to say fun things like:

"I'm not interested in pursuing anything romantic with you."
"Hitting on one person on the fb status of another person is kind of a douche move."
"You fondled my earring at a BBQ and it made feel uncomfortable and disrespected."
"When you grabbed me from behind around my ribs directly under my breasts [yeah, that happened], I felt unsafe and violated."

Yep. That's right. Just waiting for the marriage proposals to roll on in.

For another, I'm done protecting a man's feelings at the expense of my own personal safety.

And that brings me to the topic for today in dented cans: THE MYTH OF PERSISTENCE. And yes, it definitely deserves to be in all caps.

There's this weirdly longstanding myth out there that women want men who will continue to pursue them even in the face of blatant rejection (see also, "The Notebook").

You say, "I just want to be friends."
He hears, "I just want to be friends until I change my mind and decide we should definitely get married and have five kids."

You say, "I'm not interested in you in that way."
He hears, "I'm not interested in you in that way, but you should definitely grab me and try to kiss me."

You say, "I like someone else."
He hears, "He's probably a douche-bag--so you still have a shot!"

To the men that believe this myth, "No, I'm not interested" means "Try harder. You're not trying hard enough. Persist long enough and I will say 'Yes.'"

Except it doesn't mean that.

No--when you persist in pursuing me after I have made my feelings clear, I can only assume that there is something wrong with you either emotionally or mentally. And the last thing in the world that I desire is to have an emotionally or mentally unstable man pursuing me, or worse, believing that I owe him something--a date, friendship, my time, a second chance.

In short, when a man will not take "No" for an answer, all my self-preservation instincts kick in, and all I want is for him to stay the **** away from me.

I feel fear and anger.

Fear--because if this man apparently can't understand or chooses not to understand the words that I use to communicate (perhaps if I did an interpretive dance?), who's to say what other boundaries of mine he won't violate due to this "misunderstanding"? If he has already violated my verbal boundaries and made me feel unsafe, there are still other boundaries he has yet to cross: emotional, spiritual, mental, physical.

But truthfully, I have trouble understanding the level of pure terror I feel when a man refuses to take "No" for an answer.

My best guess is that this is a dehumanizing experience--I am not a person to these men. I am the projection of all of their baggage about women. I "owe" him something--my body, my "Yes," a chance for him to prove that he is the man of my dreams and we are meant to be together-- In short, I cannot give consent because I am not fully human. His pursuit has very little do with me, and so much to do with the fantasy world he has created in his mind: A world in which I should say, "Yes."

At a certain point this fantasy becomes far more important than my humanity. And that is terrifying (cue visions of being chained up in a dungeon somewhere by a man who "just wants to love me," and is willing to wait as long as it takes for me to realize that).

My guess is that many men fail to understand this as well--they have never experienced fear for their personal safety in the context of romantic relationships, partially because women are not encouraged to pursue in the face of rejection, in fact, quite the opposite. Any romantic rejection is humiliating and shameful.

And what about "Not Leading Him On," that crime that women seem to be accused of at a substantially higher rate than men? Why do women so often take the path of least resistance, trying to "let him down easy." It goes back to fear, again. Women have been taught that saying "No" is not only rude, but also dangerous.

A stranger came up to me in the 99 cent store and told me that I was "beautiful." He followed this up immediately with, "That's a compliment you know."

Of course, I enjoy compliments most when they are followed by vaguely hostile or threatening statements. I also enjoy being put in a situation in a public space where I am expected to thank a stranger for harassing me or be subjected to the accusation of "ungrateful b___ who can't take a compliment."

Unfortunately for me, as a woman, I fear for my physical safety. Therefore, I try not to engage with men in an aggressive or potentially escalating manner.

The same goes for turning down men who are romantically interested in me--but as it turns out, it matters very little what I say:

I've had different Christian guys: Corner me in a car and demand repeatedly that I go out on a date with him, then text me to apologize and tell me that he really "respects" me; Tell me my job is on the line unless I let him back into my life (as a friend, of course); Ignore my request to be "just friends" by grabbing me and dipping me for a kiss, all while citing the scene in "Hitch" when Will Smith and Kevin James accidentally make out ("You lean in half way, then wait for her to go the other half").

Then there's the anger--yeah, being seen as not quite human kind of pisses me off. And there's the icky, would rather not think about it, idea that my biracial, "exotic" looks only contribute to the extent to which men are able to project their own fantasies onto my very real, non-white (but still human!) body.

The intersection between race and perceived sexual availability is a fraught one at best--but whether it applies here or not, let me just say:

I don't want to be touched, grabbed, or groped in public by men I don't know.
If I say I don't want to date you, I mean exactly that, and I don't care to repeat myself.
I am in no way obligated to explain to you why I am not interested. I owe you no justification whatsoever.
If you won't take "No" for answer, consider yourself banned from my life.

So why is it that Christian men are so horrible at grasping the concept of women as fully human?

The word "consent" is quite the buzzword these days, but I believe there are many Christian men who do not grasp the concept:

Consent (or if you prefer, "Respect") isn't just about sex. It's about respecting the boundaries of another human being--seeing them as fully human--in every single interaction, romantic or not.

There are certain things that "Nice" Christian guys tend to believe or say that are inconsistent with consent:

One, believing that if you go to the trouble of asking a girl out, she should say, "Yes," just because you took a risk and put yourself out there.

Two, if you ask a girl out and she says, "Yes" even though she is not ultimately interested, then she is leading you on.

Three, you are a "Good Christian Man" but every girl you ask out says, "No," meaning that there is something wrong with them, not you. You are a victim of feminism, shallow female whims, or unfair discrimination.

Four, if a girl says "No" before the first date or after five dates, you deserve a full, complete, and honest explanation as to why.

Five, women don't actually know what they want. They read romance novels and "Fifty Shades of Grey" and then complain that they don't want to be raped, beaten, sexually harassed, or coerced into sex. What gives?

One and two are obviously contradictory, but I have heard both. Trying to control whether or not someone says "Yes" or "No" to a date is contrary to the idea of consent--and trying to control a person's motivations in general feels fishy.

For three and four, being rejected sucks, obviously. But believing that someone else is "wrong" for rejecting you or that the the entire female population is delusional because they are not romantically interested in you is also contrary to the idea of consent--particularly to the idea that a woman should be able to choose to date or not date someone for any reason. Yes, any reason, even one you think is shallow or stupid.

Also contrary to consent is manipulating a person into unwanted contact of any kind.

For five--well, perhaps that is the subject of another blog post, but it boggles the mind that women are still not allowed to be complex or contradictory beings with a freedom of choice and personal autonomy that transcends one particular sexual fantasy or choice of reading material. "Women don't know what they want" seems highly correlated with the myth of persistence--"Women don't know what they want" but "I (a man) know what they should want." Gross.

In conclusion, if a guy will not take "No" for an answer he is, in my opinion, undateable.

Up next in the Dented Cans series, a post on entitlement.

F*** A Nerd: A Solution to the "Sexodus" Crisis

Ladies, there is a crisis in the land: Cowed and oppressed by the forces of radical feminism, heterosexual men everywhere are checking out of the dating scene and checking into video games and online porn. You might have heard about this crisis, this "Sexodus." It is a terrible, terrible scourge of biblical proportions (the 11th plague) afflicting women everywhere.

But luckily I have come up with a solution:

F*** a nerd.

Find the most pathetic specimen of masculinity possible. The more he loathes himself, the better. The longer he hasn't showered, the more he needs the redemption that only your body can provide. He lives in his mom's basement and watches online porn for 12 hours a day? Perfect.

Throw away those unrealistic and cruel expectations for men manufactured by feminism and romantic comedies. You say you want a man who will treat you with respect, and yet you read "50 Shades of Grey." Twice. Clearly, you don't know what you want.

Plus, you think you're so hot. Well, let me tell you, your expectations are way, way too high. Are you Jennifer Lawrence, Taylor Swift, or Beyonce? No? Then you are fugly at best. However, your female privilege has convinced you that you are all that, two Coach purses, and 54 pairs of shoes. You think you can get a "hot guy" with a job to commit to you. Good luck with that. 

Remember: You can always be replaced with porn and video games. Porn doesn't file false harassment charges. Porn doesn't nag at you to empty the dishwasher or get a job. Porn doesn't say "No" when it means "Yes." Porn doesn't only have sex with assholes. Porn doesn't smile at you one day and put you in the "friend zone" the next. Porn doesn't fight back. Chew on that.

Ladies, if you have sex with a nerd, he might just start to overcome the years of rejection and oppression he has experienced at the hands of our female-dominated society. Sure, he knows he really deserves a supermodel and the six figure job you got just because you are female, but the consolation prize of your subpar body will have to do for now.

Really, it's for the good of humanity, the continuation of the species, and a peaceful resolution to the war on men that's being raged in America.

If we are to end this crisis, drastic measures must be taken. So here's my advice:

Stop trying to get ahead at work. Turn down that promotion. You don't need that promotion. A man needs that promotion.

Stop being good at school [a female-created institution designed to make men feel incompetent and insecure].

Stop volunteering to lead at church. You don't need that leadership position. A man needs that leadership position. If a man stops coming to church, it's your fault for taking the leadership role that was rightfully his.

Stop having expectations for the men you sleep with. It's enough that he condescended to sleep with you in the first place, when he could have been playing Minecraft.

Stop complaining about sexual assault, sexual harassment, and sexism. Men are tired of hearing about it. You are only perpetuating the feminist myth that all men are rapists and pigs. Men will assume that asking you on a date will get them charged with assault.

Stop sending mixed messages. Either you want a real man who forcibly takes what he wants or you want a passive nice guy who treats you as an equal but never makes a move. You can't have both.

Women: the choice is simple. If you don't "lean back" and spread your legs, unemployed men drowning in self-pity who have given up on any semblance of personal hygiene are going to refuse to have sex with you.

Do you want to die single and alone? I didn't think so. Get out there, and start f***** as many undesirable and unattractive men as you possibly can. If you're lucky, one of them might even agree to marry you.

But don't count on it.


Inspirations:
Lysistrata by Eurpides
Matt Walsh
Article about the "Sexodus"

A Story Worth Fighting For

I never imagined it would be this much of a struggle to be the hero of my own story, the lead in my high school play, the center of my own narrative.

No one and nothing prepared me for this. Not college. Not courses in feminist, post-modern, post-colonial, or Marxist theory. Not reading Doestoyevsky, the Bronte sisters, Donne, Shakespeare, or George Eliot. Not all the papers I wrote about hybridity, syntax or laughter. Not being good at school or good at my job. Not praise from teachers, employers or peers. 

Nothing. 

Part of being the hero means you get to have layers. So, for example, one of the most jarring things about inhabiting my identity is the baffling (to me) denial that I have a past. That things have happened to me. Not only that things have happened to me, but that I've been affected by these things that have happened to me.

At every fresh encounter with a new person, I'm assumed to be (supposed to be) a blank slate. 

As if you were the first stranger to tell me to, "Smile." 

The first white guy to call me "exotic." 

The first person to ask, "So, where are you from?"

The first man to speak to me in a condescending tone of voice about something technical. 

I'm told that I'm "cynical." That I have a bad attitude. That I "hate white people."

I feel like part of being human is learning from the past, taking in experiences that repeat themselves over and over again, making sense of these experiences and even molding them into a narrative. 

Like any three-dimensional character, don't I deserve a back story too? 

Like Marx said, history repeats itself, first as tragedy, second as farce. But sometimes it seems like even laughter is not allowed to me. Because to laugh is to have a distinct point of view that sees the cracks, the contradictions, the absurdities of the status quo. 

I think I can say that I've paid a price for not aquiecsing to the dominant narrative. And as I fight for my story, I can't help but feel like I'm fighting for my life. That if I don't have this, I have nothing. That if I don't fight for my story, no one else will. 

Let's stop shaming people for feeling like outsiders at church

Ah, a subject close to my heart--and all I could come up with is this clunky title:

"Let's"--as if there is a unified "US" that goes around shaming people.

"Stop"--as if I can actually get people to stop doing anything.

"Shaming"--Now there's a strong word.

"People"--Who are these people?

"Outsiders"--Okay. They feel like outsiders in some way.

"Church"--Refer to the unified "US" of the first word.

There's a phenomenon on facebook and elsewhere that I've started to think of as "Push Back." Push back is the "But what were you wearing?" of mildly controversial conversation. Example:

"Some guy grabbed my butt while I was riding the bus."
"Maybe he was just having a bad day and your ass reminded him of home."

Or:

"It can be difficult being a woman in the entertainment industry."
"I was the only man in my women's studies class."

Or:

"I don't feel like I belong at my church."
"Have you tried joining a small group?"

I think that at heart, a push back response is a misdirect. It misses the point and steers the speaker in another direction, like, "Well, have you tried jiggling the handle?" The listener in effect avoids, glosses over, ignores, minimizes, invalidates the original statement

I think the underlying message when it comes to belonging and church is, "It's not okay that you feel this way."

At first, this might not seem like a particularly shaming response. But think about it.

"I don't feel like I belong."
"It's not okay that I feel this way."
"There must be something wrong with me that I feel this way."
"I should stop talking about this because it makes other people upset."

It's a double burden of shame. And to state the obvious, people who already feel like they don't belong are hyper-sensitive to the shame of feeling "Not Ok."

Sometimes the response from the listener seems to be rooted in defensiveness, as in, "How DARE you suggest that my church is anything but welcoming and inclusive!" This response makes a lot of sense. If the identity of the church is rooted in how welcoming or inclusive it appears or feels to others, then any threat to this appearance or feeling will be met with incredulity and even hostility.

This is frustrating. As if no matter how much vulnerability, humility or honesty I express or how much humor I use to deflect the pain, or how much I qualify every statement, or how much credence I give to other perspectives, my story will still not be validated because it falls outside the boundaries of how church wishes to perceive itself.

Some of the things that Jesus says in the New Testament are pretty funny, especially when he's talking to the Pharisees. It's like they're speaking completely different narratives (they are) and Jesus is like, "I know you are, but what am I?"

He just, like, says stuff, and it's awesome.

Anyway, I think I feel like this a lot. As if I'm trying to tell this story and it's not getting through because the other person immediately imposes his story onto mine. There's instant denial, defensiveness, explanation or "Have you tried online dating?"

It's exhausting. I'm tired. I'm very, very tired.

What you believe about race doesn't matter

I don't care if you're racist. 

Really. I don't. 

I don't care if Mel Gibson is anti-Semitic, I don't care if Alec Baldwin is homophobic, I don't care if you're racist. 

It's a moot point. 

Listen, I don't give a **** about your personal character. 

I care about what you say. 

When you say racist things, I care, because this about the content of your words, not the content of your character.

Whether or not you're "racist" or "sexist" or "homophobic" can be a question between you and God, or you and yourself, or you and your next-door neighbor, Bob. 

Go ahead. Search your heart. Send a team of resourceful and dedicated spelunkers into the caverns of your soul. And if in the end, you find not a single hateful thought toward anyone at any time for any reason related to gender, ethnicity, or sexual orientation, then great. I'm sure you'll sleep soundly tonight. 

But when you say, "Asian people always ____"

Or, "Gay people are ____" 

Or something about Us v. Them--

I care. Because words matter. Words like "bitch" or "slut" or "fag" or the N-word have power. They have history. They have baggage. 

So let's skip the wounded indignation, the part where you insist that there is nary a hate-mongering bone in your body:

Who me, a racist? Me, a homophobe? Me, a sexist? But I love women. My best friend is Asian. My favorite color is purple.

Why do I care?

I care because your words, whether you mean them or not, are part of a larger system of injustice.

I'm strongly with John Stuart Mill on this one: Say whatever you want to say. But saying whatever you want to say and then demanding freedom from censure because "I'm a good person" or "That's not what I meant" is the exact opposite of taking responsibility.

So let's skip the non-apology, the sorry-I'm-not-sorry: 

"I regret that you've mistaken me for someone who treats others poorly because of their race. You must have me confused with an actual racist. If you could only peruse my personal history at length, you would find that I've always treated every single person with the utmost respect, regardless of the color of their skin."

It may never be conscious. It may never be active. It might look nothing like hate. But you are making the world just a little bit worse. 

So, who cares if you're racist (or sexist)? You are participating in and perpetuating a system of discrimination, exclusion, prejudice, abuse, violence, hatred and death.

Like I said. Who cares.

Inspired by: 

What You Believe About Homosexuality Doesn't Matter

Rape and the Art of Storytelling

So, I was watching a video at church the other day, and the subject turned to rape. Specifically, the man and woman being interviewed knew both the victim and the perpetrator before the rape happened. 

And the man in the video said, and I paraphrase: "As much as I wanted to hate him [the perpetrator], I couldn't, insofar as his life would also never be the same." 

This is about rape. And the stories we tell:

[Insert name here] had such a promising future as a [football star - leader - contributing member of society]. But then he raped someone. And now his life will never be the same. 

Or, “These boys have to live with this the rest of their lives."

See also, Steubenville.

This story has been told before. It will be told again. 

The story follows a simple before and after structure: 

Before raping someone: Promising future

After raping someone: Life never the same

Given how many different narratives we could impose on rape, why is this narrative so pervasive? 

I don't know. 

Logically, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense, and it tends to elide or gloss over the very crux of the story: 

[Perpetrator] raped [victim]

The before/after narrative conceals the key cause/effect relationship in the story: 

Cause: Committed rape

Effect: Life never the same

This has the odd effect of conflating raping with being raped, as in "his life would also never be the same."

"I was raped": my life will never be the same. 

"I raped someone": my life will never be the same. 

I would argue that this is a false equivalence. Raping and being raped are not the same thing. The promising-future/life-never-the-same narrative obscures, almost denies, the key difference between raping and being raped: 

Choice. Volition. Will. 

If we take that away, we are left with a rapist who rapes through no active choice of his own. Rape is something that "just happens" to young men with promising futures, like a cholera outbreak or a really bad blind date.

To return to the first story: At what point in time was the perpetrator's life never the same--was it the moment when he decided to rape someone? During? Immediately after? When he was arrested? The first time he appeared in court? 

And the boys from Steubenville, at what point in time were their lives changed forever--after texting an incriminating picture to friends? Before the party was over? Upon conviction and sentencing? 

I would argue that the timeline is false, the before/after formula invalid. 

In any way that really matters, if you rape someone--if you are the kind of person who would rape someone--your life is already f----.

Ironically (or logically), narratives about rape victims tend to give them a great deal of the very quality rapists are denied--

She chose to wear that, she was sexually active, she willfully tweeted that alluring image. 

Cause. Effect. [You can also substitute CHOICE and CONSEQUENCE]

Cause: Wearing a mini-skirt

Effect: Being raped. 

Or,

Cause: Walking alone at night in a bad part of town.

Effect: Being raped. 

Or, 

Cause: Getting drunk at a party.

Effect: Being raped. 

Or, 

Cause: Being overtly sexual. Flirting.

Effect: Being raped. 

I could go on, unfortunately.

We impose the cause/effect story on rape victims while simultaneously bewailing the before/after tragedy of rapists. 

Seems a bit backwards to me. 

"That's Not Cool, Bro": Homosociality, Objectification and the Uses of Social Media in Rape Culture

I've been contemplating writing this for a while now. This is the "nice" version, believe it or not. The hide yo' wife, hide yo' kids, hide yo' husbands version is in the works.

Upfront disclaimer: I'm going to talk about rape. And feminism. And Twitter.

Maybe you've heard about the Steubenville, Ohio rape case. Maybe you haven't. You can read about it here or here, but if you don't care to, a few facts about what allegedly took place:

1. Two high school football players sexually assaulted a girl at a party.
2. Many other people were present.
3. Some of these other students / partygoers posted to YouTube or Twitter about the rape.
4. They expressed positive and/or approving thoughts and feelings about the rape [There's a YouTube video of a guy talking and laughing about it].

Now, I think you and I have at least a little bit of difficulty getting into the headspace of a rapist. We probably also have a problem getting into the headspace of anyone who would think of rape as a good thing.

Nevertheless, these people and these reactions exist, so let's think about it for a minute. Okay, more than a minute:

Why would someone think that rape is funny?

There's a lack of identification. There's a lack of empathy. There is perhaps a sense that the victim of rape deserves to be raped.

Then, think about the dynamics of two intersecting phenomena: homosocial approval and social media.

What is homosocial approval?

For the purposes of this blog, homosocial approval is explicit or implicit social approval from other dudes. In the case of Steubenville, this could be an over-identification with football, with high school social status, and with the approval that comes from other guys when you boast about your sexual conquests.

Of course, homosocial approval is not always negative. It can be very positive. But when combined with sexual violence and social media, it becomes something else entirely. See also this incident in which two high school boys took pictures of a girl as they assaulted her (because what's a sexual assault unless you can show pics to your friends later, amiright?).

Like most of us, I have borderline racist and misogynistic friends and/or acquaintances. [I'm sorry, is that harsh? You know what I'm talking about, though. Maybe it's because I have a lot of Christian friends (low blow).]

And the friendly misogynist-next-door--he's unlikely to ever rape anyone. However, he does continue to perpetuate the idea that women are objects. Or, that a woman's primary value is in how she looks. Or that she's fair game as long as she's legal. Or that a woman is responsible for a man's behavior. And that, my friend, is destructive.

I started writing this with a question: How do my male friends respond when their friend says something borderline racist/misogynistic? Does it bother him? Does he say something? Does he shrug it off? Does he laugh nervously?

I guess that was actually a series of questions.

I'm asking you, hypothetical guy friend, to do one thing: withhold your approval. Don't agree. Don't fist bump. Don't retweet. Don't hit "like."

Maybe the phrase "rape culture" makes you mad--because you believe that there is no such thing. That it's a phrase coined by feminists to victimize men. Fine. Forget that phrase. Call it whatever you want. Call it dude-thinks-rape-is-super-funny-in-youtube-video culture. I don't care.

And what about me? I'm female. Guys are supposed to be trying to impress me. Doesn't my approval or lack thereof count too?

It doesn't. Not in the same way. I'm not the target audience here. You try lecturing a guy on manners after he calls you a bitch for turning him down. Or giving a crash course on sexual harassment to the gentleman, and I use that term loosely, who won't take "No" for an answer. It's not gonna happen.

He doesn't care what I think. That crude joke was not for my benefit. It was for you. Not me.

So hey bro, dude, man, whatever. Do me a favor and don't laugh.

It's not that funny, anyway.

Crying. In public.

It was 9pm last Wednesday night and I was crying in a booth at Canter’s Deli on Fairfax. I pushed at the corners of my eyes with my knuckles and dabbed the snot leaking from my nose with a napkin. The edges of my vision blurred with tears, like a watery postcard. At the center of the postcard, still surprisingly in focus, sat my friend. 

I get ugly when I cry. My entire face turns blotchy and red. The salt stings my nostrils. My eyes puff up, causing me to look more Asian than my usual fifty percent. My nose swells. My eyelids start to itch. The corners of my mouth dry out. I can’t breathe through my nose. 

I try to avoid crying in public, mostly because of the ugliness and the sluggish way the signs of it fade from my face. I feel marked long after the impulse to weep has gone. As a kid, my dad would call me “red eyes” as I sat at the dinner table, unable to hide the signs. 

I’ve locked myself in countless stalls in countless bathrooms at countless churches, waiting for the telltale puffiness to leave my eyes, giving the all clear. 

I’ve always felt shame at any strong display of emotion. 

I have a good memory too, for emotions and things. How do I know this? Because when I say to a friend or family member, “Remember when such-and-such happened?” or “Remember when you said this-or-that?” they almost never remember. For example, my sister doesn’t remember the hurtful things I said to her when we were eleven, but I do. I remember the emotional charge of hate, fear and pain. 

My dad recently told me, “When you were little, you would burst out crying at the dinner table because of some promise Mom or I had made to you months ago.” 

It’s like I was born to hold grudges, to internalize forever the hurt and unmet expectations of the moment: “You wounded me on this day, at this hour, wearing this blue shirt.” 

Last Tuesday night, I had a dream that my sister was telling me that it was over between us. There was no yelling, no screaming, just calm, rational argument. She was making several very valid points: I had said this. Done that. Sure, it was in the past, but still the facts were there and the only logical step would be to cut ties. 

I dreamt this, knowing my sister. I dreamt this, knowing that she would never reject me. Never. In the dream, I felt numb. 

My dad and I had a fight about a year ago that ended in my tears. And honestly, I despised myself for crying. I hated the vulnerability of it. 

And sitting there in that booth, in Canter’s, on Fairfax, in Los Angeles—all I could see was how I needed to forgive myself. That it was okay to be hurt, okay to remember, okay to cry. 

Perhaps God made me this way for a reason. Perhaps it’s part of being a writer—this emotionally fraught memory of mine. 

I looked across the booth at my friend. All I could see in her eyes was empathy. I was crying, but I felt no shame. 

Five Things I Learned From Watching Seasons 1-4 of Grey's Anatomy

This is not an attempt to justify the hours I have spent watching this show, nor to deny the trashy, soap-operatic nature of its content. Ahem.

Suffice it to say, I very recently made my way through the first four seasons of Grey's Anatomy. Here's what I learned:

1. "Use your words."

The characters of Grey's say this to each other a lot--which is funny because they're all extremely articulate. Huh. Frankly, this imperative is a good reminder for me. I'm good with words. I'm not good at expressing my feelings. In words. Out loud. To other people.

2. When in doubt, write a monologue in which a character has an emotional epiphany and conveniently highlights the theme of the episode.

Some might call this "cheating" or "laziness on the part of the writer."

I call it genius. Sure, in real life the person you're ranting to rarely stands eyes wide and mouth agape as you aphoristically sum up the event's of the day. Small detail. These monologues are the thematic glue holding each episode together. Dramatic subtlety be damned.

3. The law of promiscuity and diminishing dramatic returns.

Have you ever noticed how the longer a TV show goes on, the more hookups occur between the primary cast (e.g. "That 70's Show," "Friends")?

I would hazard that the weaker the dramatic premise and/or episode specific storyline of a show, the more likely two previously unconnected characters are to suddenly begin a sexual relationship.

Writers do this to heighten the dramatic value of an episode. However, the more promiscuous a character/cast is, the less their sexual relationships mean emotionally and dramatically. Kind of like in real life.

So, what is invoked to increase dramatic value actually decreases it.

4. Sex and the unbearable whiteness of being

Grey's Anatomy boasts an impressively diverse cast--and by diverse I mean ethnically. Average/ugly people were not invited to this party.

Intriguingly, the shade of a character's skin seems to be co-related to number of sexual partners. How do I say this--only the white characters seem to be allowed to sleep around, while the minority characters are frustratingly monogamous.

5. Everyone has issues.

There's something about Meredith Grey. There's something about Meredith Grey and her emotional blankness that feels authentic.

That's what I've learned. And I'm only on season 4.