On Bra Burning and Being Human

I still feel a little uncomfortable when I describe myself as a feminist. Growing up, “feminist” always had a negative connotation—feminists were those angry women who protested being left out of a men’s only golf club or the crazy women that asserted their liberation by burning their bras and sleeping around.

After my undergrad, I taught elementary school, and my friends all went to grad school. And one by one, they all became feminists. They saw things they’d never seen before and became upset about things that I had never thought of as issues. I didn't get it, and honestly I was a little worried that I'd become an angry feminist myself when I decided to get my master's degree.

During my first semester I took IPT 564 Instructional Design. My male partner and I created an instructional product for our "client," a professor from a different department. In the middle of the semester we went to present what we had so far to the professor. We got his feedback, answered his questions, and came back to the "grad lab" where all the IPT students hang out. I didn't even know anything out of the ordinary had happened until Eric asked me, "Did that bother you?" "What?" I asked. "That he only talked to me," he said. I thought back. The professor had only made eye contact with Eric and only asked him questions, even though I had done most of the designing to that point and was the one who could answer his questions. I realized then, that I could face discrimination in the work place and needed to be prepared. That was the beginning of my feminism.

I'm not about to burn my bras. I'm not angry. I'm not crazy. This is what my feminism looks like:

I ask for the wage I think I'm worth, even though I'd rather crawl out of my skin.

I am independent, but there is a place and a role for a man by my side.

I do not think that women and men are the same but I do think they are equally important. Both valued. Both needing a champion when trampled upon.

I reject the pedestal that sometimes women are placed on. I cringe when I hear a church leader say off-handedly, “we all know that one sister missionary is twice as effective as three elders,” because I believe that false generalization hurts both men and women.

I hurt for the boys who are told they need to stop crying, suck it up, and be a man, and thus learn shut off a part of themselves.

I constantly remind myself that I am working out because I love my body and I want to be healthy and strong—not to shame my body into submission so I can be sexy.

I declare that my value to society is created by what I contribute—not by how attractive I am to a man.

I revere fatherhood and motherhood. I assert the dignity of being a parent, aunt, advocate, or caregiver.

The term “feminist” seems inadequate--what I feel is more inclusive than that. I want to reclaim the term “humanist” so that rather than meaning someone who asserts human logic over God, it means someone who feels empathy and connection with all humans. I am pro-human—not just pro-woman. I identify with being a human first, and with being a woman second. Just like I identify with being a citizen of the world first, and a citizen of the United States second. We are all connected.

Thus I collect donations for Somali refugees being resettled into Salt Lake. I stay present as I watch a sobering documentary about child sex slavery. I keep up with what the "so-called Islamic State" (I love that BBC news called ISIS that) is doing, even though I can't do anything about it. I listen to my gay friend wrestle with God and church and feel his frustration and confusion as if it were my own. And I speak up when I see sexist memes on International Women's Day.

That I Might "Not Shrink"

I've been going through a rough time lately that could be made a lot easier if I moved.  Living where I do, the issue is always in my face, and the scab on my heart is picked at daily.  It's kind of hard to heal (understatement of the year).

I counsel with the Lord in everything that's important to me, so naturally I've talked with Him about this.  He has encouraged me to stay.  I feel that I'm not supposed to run away (as I have with similar situations in the past).  I'm supposed to face this head on.  I'm not supposed to "shrink."

Elder Bednar, one of the twelve apostles, spoke on this subject in March.  The quotes I use come from his talk.  Shrinking means to "retreat or recoil," to step back from the hard thing we are facing.  The term comes from modern day scripture, when Christ speaks about his atoning sacrifice.  It is the only scripture I know of where we get to hear His perspective on the suffering He endured:

“Therefore I command you to repent—repent, lest I smite you by the rod of my mouth, and by my wrath, and by my anger, and your sufferings be sore—how sore you know not, how exquisite you know not, yea, how hard to bear you know not.

“For behold, I, God, have suffered these things for all, that they might not suffer if they would repent;

“But if they would not repent they must suffer even as I;

“Which suffering caused myself, even God, the greatest of all, to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, and to suffer both body and spirit—and would that I might not drink the bitter cup, and shrink—

“Nevertheless, glory be to the Father, and I partook and finished my preparations unto the children of men” (D&C19:15–19).

Jesus wanted to bravely face the hardest thing He could ever do.  He didn't want to "shrink" from the assignment His Father had given Him.  Elder Bednar quotes Elder Maxwell in saying, "Moreover, partaking of a bitter cup without becoming bitter is likewise part of the emulation of Jesus."

I, too, want to face this without shrinking.  I want to drink this bitter cup without becoming bitter.  The temptation occasionally comes to vilify the object of my pain, to emphasize his negative attributes and victimize myself.  But I reject those thoughts.  I know they aren't true, and I know they come from the Father of Lies.  I choose love.  I choose to continue to love.

Elder Bednar continues his remarks by quoting Elder Orson F. Whitney about the purpose of trials.
“No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted. It ministers to our education, to the development of such qualities as patience, faith, fortitude and humility. All that we suffer and all that we endure, especially when we endure patiently, builds up our characters, purifies our hearts, expands our souls, and makes us more tender and charitable, more worthy to be called the children of God … and it is through sorrow and suffering, toil and tribulation, that we gain the education that we come here to acquire” 

This quote gives purpose to my suffering and gives me strength to endure well.  I am turning to Christ and He gives me grace to confront this head on.  My heart is softening, and I am becoming a little more like my Lord and Savior.  Though I never would have chosen it, I am grateful to have this experience and learn these lessons.

The Righteousness Cycle

Today in Sunday School we were discussing "the pride cycle."  This cycle is seen repeatedly in the Book of Mormon.  The people are righteous, so the Lord blesses and prospers them.  They set their hearts on riches and get prideful, and stop being so righteous--they put themselves into classes, look down on others, and stop taking care of the poor.  All of a sudden they abandon the Church of Christ and start building up churches to get gain.  After a period of wickedness, they have negative consequences.  War, perhaps.  The Lord leaves them to their own strength, which of course is weak, and they are compelled to be humble.  They reach out to God in sackcloth and ashes, lamenting the fact that they didn't listen to the prophets.  After sufficient repentance, the Lord forgives them, they keep the commandments, and live righteously again.  It happens time and time again.

We began discussing how to just stay at the top of the cycle--being righteous and being blessed by God.  In my personal study this afternoon I thought more about the subject.  What if the righteousness cycle went like this?

Being righteous--continually being stirred up in remembrance--humbling ourselves--repentance
Then it loops around in a cycle.

Another theme in the Book of Mormon is the idea of remembering.  That we need to remember the Lord in order to have his Spirit to be with us.  That we need to remember what He did for our forefathers and be grateful.  So we need to be continually stirred up in remembrance, by attending church, reading our scriptures, writing/rereading our journals (to remember the great things the Lord has done for us!), and having gospel conversations.  This might remind us of something we should do or something we should stop doing, in order to improve and become closer to Christ.

This will naturally lead us to humbling ourselves.  Instead of waiting for God to compel us to be humble, if we are constantly immersed in remembering the gospel, we will naturally find things that humble us.

Once humble, we can approach God and ask for His grace.  We can repent of our sins and ask for increased virtue.

And thus we increase in righteousness.

6 Love Languages?

The book "The Five Love Languages" is widely accepted.  I read the speedy version of the book, took an online quiz, and had several discussions on the matter with friends.  I discovered through the quiz that my primary love language is service, following by physical touch, then quality time.  Words of affirmation mattered a little, and gifts didn't even register.  I accepted this as truth and analyzed my relationships through this lens.

Then today I was reflecting on what makes me feel loved.  When a person walks (or runs) a little slower than he would normally in order to stay by my side.  When someone does a favor for me.  When someone remembers and asks about something that's going on in my life.  When someone makes something for me for my birthday.  When someone gives up doing another activity in order to spend time with me.  When someone calls me out of the blue just to see how I'm doing, etc.  These things could fall under the categories of service, quality time, and gifts, but the common element between them is sacrifice.  That is what makes me feel loved.  When I am important enough for someone to sacrifice for, then I feel safe, secure, and loved.

And I have noticed that sacrifice is how I show love as well.  When my sister was sad and wanted me to make a treat, I'd do it, even though I had piles of homework.  When she was devastated over the loss of a flip flop, I went to the mall and bought her new ones with my own money.  When a friend needs a ride to the airport and calls me last minute, I drop what I'm doing and go.  When it's someone's birthday, I love to figure out a thoughtful gift to give.  When someone needs to talk, or needs a back rub, or needs some hot soup, it makes me feel fulfilled to sacrifice for them and fulfill that need.  Sacrifice, to me, means love. 

What is LOVE?

The concept of love is of utmost importance.  It is the most important human feeling and motivating power.  It defines a worthwhile life.  Love is the basis of the first and second great commandments.  We all want to love and be loved.  Yet, despite knowing its importance, we struggle to know what it is.

Seemingly from the beginning of time, people have theorized about love.  The Greeks had four different words for love: storge (affection), philia (friendship), eros (romance), and agape (unconditional love).  Some define different types of love based on relationships: parent-child, friend-friend, man-God, lover-lover, etc.  In a psychology textbook I recently consulted, it proclaimed that theorists almost universally agree that love is divided into "types."

Jesus teaches us to love.  The first great commandment is to love God and the second is to love our fellowmen as we love ourselves.  The New Testament and the Book of Mormon teach us that we need charity, the pure love of Christ, to be saved.  Yet, we often separate this idea of Christian love (love of God and godly love for others) from our ideas about loving our friends, family, and significant others.  But the question I asked my self and that I ask you is, are they really different?

Is the love that I feel for a boy different than the love I feel for my mom?  Is the love I feel for my best friend different than the love the Savior admonishes us to have for all men?  Is the love I will one day feel for my children different than the love I feel for Christ?  Is love different when it is had in different relationships?  I argue that it is not.  Other things may be stirred into the mix (romantic love combines attraction and commitment, for example), but the love itself is the same.

So what is love?  How is it characterized?  Recognized?  Grown?

I submit that instead of types of love, there are levels.

On a basic level, love is an emotion of attachment and affection.  I feel this kind of love for my "circumstantial friends."  I like being around them; they make me happy.  I also feel this for extended family members that I don't see very often (being family, there is an added measure of commitment that isn't there with circumstantial friends, but it's the same level of love).

When love is complete, or perfect, it is the type of love we associate with the word charity.  You love the person for who they are, not what they do, and thus your love is an unchangeable fact.  You see the best in the person.  You see their potential and believe in their capacity to change and improve, thus enabling them to do so.  You give them the benefit of the doubt and forgive them easily.  You seek their comfort and well-being above your own, putting their wants and needs above yours.  In doing so you feel no ill will or resentment, only sincerity.

Marvin J. Ashton said, “Perhaps the greatest charity comes when we are kind to each other, when we don’t judge or categorize someone else, when we simply give each other the benefit of the doubt or remain quiet. Charity is accepting someone’s differences, weaknesses, and shortcomings; having patience with someone who has let us down; or resisting the impulse to become offended when someone doesn’t handle something the way we might have hoped. Charity is refusing to take advantage of another’s weakness and being willing to forgive someone who has hurt us. Charity is expecting the best of each other.”

In between the basic and complete loves are countless levels of increasing emotion, building to reach the point of completeness.  There is an increase of mercy, compassion, service, gratitude, kindness, and understanding.

My good friend told me about a theory she read about that makes sense to me.  In this theory, the levels of love are called: identification, consummation, and consubstantiation.  Basically, the more you understand/know the person, the more you identify with them, and the more you love them (eventually ending at becoming "one").  The level at which you understand someone, have empathy for them, and put yourself in their shoes is the level at which you love them.  I've noticed that in my own life.  In high school I realized that when I didn't like people or they rubbed me the wrong way, it was because I didn't know them well enough.  Without fail, as I came to know those people better, I understood why they did things the way the did, and grew to love them.  The better you understand someone, the more you naturally love them.

For me, this shed an incredible light on Christ's love.  I believe that in the Garden of Gethsemane, Christ experienced each of our lives.  He felt our guilt, pain, sickness, sorrows, anxieties, and temptations.  He did this, as the Book of Mormon prophet Alma teaches, "that his bowels may be filled with mercy according to the flesh, that he might know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities" (Alma 7:12).  Christ has perfect empathy for us and understands us perfectly, thus he can love us perfectly.  The atonement of Jesus Christ gave him a complete level of identification with us.  Because he understands me so perfectly he loves me completely.  I will be able to love Christ in return as I increase my level of identification with him.  The more I keep his commandments, feed his sheep, and build his kingdom, the more I will understand and love him.

Thus, my conclusions are as follows: there is one love instead of differing types of love, love is felt in varying degrees, and the more we understand/identify with someone the more we love them.  I also think that love is grown through sacrifice and service.  The more we give of ourselves, the more attached we feel and the more compassion we have.

Living Deliberately

I've been thinking a lot about the concept of living deliberately. It's a phrase that a friend of mine used a few years ago, and I've adopted it as part of my general philosophy of life. I believe in living on purpose!

Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, "The unexamined life is not worth living."

In order to live deliberately, you have to examine your life. You have to look at things from the outside looking in, analyze them for what they are, and decide how you actually want things to be.

A lot of people simply live life. They go with the flow. They do what they were taught or what the people around them are doing. Never questioning. Never questioning if the status quo is the best way. And that's my tendency too, but as I get older, I've questioned more.

Part of it is my nature as a planner. I've been a planner ever since I was a kid. I remember sitting in the car on a long car ride as a 14 year old, and writing a list of approved toys for my future children. I saw things around me that I didn't like (especially those brightly colored alien-looking toys that make annoying noises), and I wanted to make sure that when I grew up I did things differently. My ideas have changed since then, but the principle is the same: I think about how I want things to be/how I think they should be, and I make plans. I do this in my occupation all the time, and I do it in my personal life. I am always reevaluating and making goals. I make things happen. I find great satisfaction and fulfillment in living deliberately. I am getting what I want to out of life. :)

Peace in this World

In Doctrine and Covenants 59:23 we learn that, "he who doeth the works of righteousness shall receive his reward, even peace in this world, and eternal life in the world to come."

In the Guide to the Scriptures, under "Rest" we learn that rest is "the enjoyment of peace and freedom from worry and turmoil. The Lord has promised such rest to his faithful followers during this life."

In John 14:27, the Savior consoles, "Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid."

If we follow the Savior, we are entitled to feel peace. Sometimes that peace does not come automatically to me--I live a very busy life--but without fail, every time I have prayed to feel peace, it has come. That is a prayer that has always been answered immediately.

I find such reassurance that as followers of the Lord Jesus Christ, we are promised freedom from "worry and turmoil"--how cool is that? I wonder how often we draw upon this promise. I know that I indulge in feelings of worry and turmoil too often. Instead of looking heavenward, I look at my earthly situation and feel worried or stressed about various things. The Savior doesn't want me to worry. He wants me to exercise my faith in Him, and He wants to console me in my worries and fears. He wants me to look toward the future with confidence and hope. This is my privilege, if I but ask for it: peace in this world.