I read something this morning from someone I greatly respect. I "friended" her on Facebook before I knew she was "kind of a big deal" in a certain community. I liked her profile picture (with her husband) and was in need of interesting people at the time.
Her Post
I want to readdress some of the things she mentions, and how it relates to my own experiences.
I always wanted to be with someone. I craved that physical and emotional intimacy that I felt I lacked in growing up. I'm from a very reserved family.
I didn't really date until I moved to Utah for school. I was much too self-conscious to open myself up to women that I grew up with. I wanted to rewrite myself, in any case. Moving to a different part of the country and in a different culture provided the opportunity. I was a mormon and while active members, we didn't really fit in well with those from the West.
I dated some girls my first year. One instance of asking a girl out did not go well, and I made note of what a screaming jerk I was and tried to make sure to never be like that again. I did a pretty good job of that too, for being a hormone-crazed guy, that is.
My second year went much better. I dated a strong-willed girl that wouldn't put up with any poor treatment. When I left on my mission, I became horribly depressed and I was among some very bad examples of Mormon culture for some time. My asshattery was epic. She'd had enough.
So the next year, my last on my mission, I divorced myself from the culture I was in and set boundaries. I developed myself because I still wanted to be with someone. I didn't want to be a jerk. Some would say that the two years of your mission are the "best two years of your life." I didn't have that experience. My first year of my mission was the worst I'd lived up to that point and to this day. The last year of my mission and first year back at school were my best two years, mostly in spite of my mission instead of it. I focused like a laser to make sure not to let the entitled culture sink in. I wanted to be with someone to work on our goals, our lives together. I needed to build her up as much as she wanted my own success. I didn't want a help-meet. I wanted a partner in crime. I wanted someone to call me out on my BS so I could change for the better.
I think that is what happened. I dated a lot that year back. I made some wonderful memories. Some, ok, a bit troubling, but I've since come to understand it.
Tracy and I had to do a lot of comparing of notes. Things that we thought we knew about each other turned out to be wrong. I explained a lot of what my motivations were that I never mentioned before because I was ashamed of having fallen so far during my mission. She let me know the things she was taught growing up that explained not only her behavior but those I had dated in college.
BTW, I treasure forgiveness. I need to ask for it on the regular.
In any case, here is Lindsay's post. She changed it a bit from when I first read it, considering her audience and those she champions.
BTW, the article link she mentions.
Her Post
I want to readdress some of the things she mentions, and how it relates to my own experiences.
I always wanted to be with someone. I craved that physical and emotional intimacy that I felt I lacked in growing up. I'm from a very reserved family.
I didn't really date until I moved to Utah for school. I was much too self-conscious to open myself up to women that I grew up with. I wanted to rewrite myself, in any case. Moving to a different part of the country and in a different culture provided the opportunity. I was a mormon and while active members, we didn't really fit in well with those from the West.
I dated some girls my first year. One instance of asking a girl out did not go well, and I made note of what a screaming jerk I was and tried to make sure to never be like that again. I did a pretty good job of that too, for being a hormone-crazed guy, that is.
My second year went much better. I dated a strong-willed girl that wouldn't put up with any poor treatment. When I left on my mission, I became horribly depressed and I was among some very bad examples of Mormon culture for some time. My asshattery was epic. She'd had enough.
So the next year, my last on my mission, I divorced myself from the culture I was in and set boundaries. I developed myself because I still wanted to be with someone. I didn't want to be a jerk. Some would say that the two years of your mission are the "best two years of your life." I didn't have that experience. My first year of my mission was the worst I'd lived up to that point and to this day. The last year of my mission and first year back at school were my best two years, mostly in spite of my mission instead of it. I focused like a laser to make sure not to let the entitled culture sink in. I wanted to be with someone to work on our goals, our lives together. I needed to build her up as much as she wanted my own success. I didn't want a help-meet. I wanted a partner in crime. I wanted someone to call me out on my BS so I could change for the better.
I think that is what happened. I dated a lot that year back. I made some wonderful memories. Some, ok, a bit troubling, but I've since come to understand it.
Tracy and I had to do a lot of comparing of notes. Things that we thought we knew about each other turned out to be wrong. I explained a lot of what my motivations were that I never mentioned before because I was ashamed of having fallen so far during my mission. She let me know the things she was taught growing up that explained not only her behavior but those I had dated in college.
BTW, I treasure forgiveness. I need to ask for it on the regular.
In any case, here is Lindsay's post. She changed it a bit from when I first read it, considering her audience and those she champions.
Every person I know who has grown up in or has a female body including other gender diverse individuals raised is the deeply patriarchy culture, is familiar with the feeling of misogyny. Whether they've ever given it a name or not, you can know it by the deep primal sense we get right in the center of our abdomen when we are around a man we know isn't safe. It's only now in my late 30's that I've learned to start paying attention to that feeling. I've become practiced at it as a form of survival.
In the work I do now, I am sometimes in dangerous situations. I have met so many isolated religious fundamentalist communities and sometimes that means I am dealing with men whose patriarchal beliefs are deeply dyed. And I know which men are not safe- because they are the ones that feel entitled to my time, energy, and adoration. They are men that believe I will marry them just because I am kind to everyone I meet and they fail to see me as anything other than a potential wife. I've been assaulted, sexually harassed, demeaned, stalked, disrespected, followed, and belittled.
This is a fraction of my vitae so that you'll know that what I'm about to say is earned. I'm no stranger to men's anger. The deep rage some men have felt when I reject them. Or worse, the men who reject me because they both hate me and what I stand for and find themselves attracted to me. Those guys are the worst, the ones whose hate is broiling just below the surface.
I am bothered I even have to say this, but I do. There are men in my life I love and trust. There are some men who have the moral courage to do their work, get therapy, look at their own stuff and work to fix it. Those are the men I keep close in my circles. Those are the men I refer to my friends for partners, or friendships, or work projects. These men exist and I've seen it. They are brave with vulnerability and strong with the muscles of empathy and curiosity. There are good men in this world.
There are also men that have scared the daylights out of me. Men who hate me, men who have threatened me. In my experience and because my community is predominantly made up of them- it has been white men. I know the anger and rage of white men. Worse though, I know especially well their entitlement.
I grew up with Mormon men who were promised to be gods. Can you understand how pernicious that is? To teach little boys they could have their own planets someday? That they could be the prophet of God's church?
Because I'm a woman, I never had to experience that. Losing my literal belief in Mormonism was very difficult, but I never had to lose a universe. Not in the way Mormon men do.
It doesn't matter so much that the men believe that they will get the universe someday. It's the issue that they were taught they were. It's a special kind of entitlement to believe the world and world and world was yours. Literal belief or not, the entitlement often remains.
These are the men that believe they have the right to me. The right to others. The right to jobs, to money, to fame, to power, to love, to respect. They only have to earn it by being great, not by being good.
When we talk about the rage of white men and wonder on its impact on the country, it doesn't matter to me if we tie it to a political issue or not. It exists. My life and the experiences of so many others are a testament to that. Our gut, our bruises, our trauma is the data. Our speaking it isn't an attack on men, it's just adding wholeness to the record. It's just the truth of it.
Read the article I'm linking in comments that aligns with my thoughts.So there it is. She is admired by a lot of people. She does humaning better than I have/am and probably could.
BTW, the article link she mentions.
No comments:
Post a Comment