Buy You a Drank

I've heard wind of this song for a few weeks now, but finally experienced it on the radio this afternoon on my way to a princess party. A little T-Pain to get me prepped for some face-painting, balloon animal, princessy fun. You know. Actually it came on right after the "Umbrella" remix, which seemed much more appropriate considering that I was playing Cindy (whom we refer to as such for copyright purposes) at the party today. "You can be my Cinderella...ella...ella, eh eh eh...." But I digress.

I heard "Buy You a Drank" again via Justine in her car and it started me wondering about the implications of doing as the song says...letting a guy buy me a drink. Or drank. Whichever it may be. A friend of mine recently admitted that one of her friends--a just-a-friend--bought 70 dollar tickets to take her to the ballet. Is that allowed? Can she accept that sort of thing without owing him something? Or is she leading him on by allowing him to treat her kindly? Personally, I'm obnoxious when it comes to people doing nice things for me. I can't help but wonder what they really want--I'm always looking for the hidden request behind the action. On a date, I tend to calm down some since (usually) we've already established that he's interested, so I'm not confused about why he is showing me special attention--he's interested. But at a bar it's a whole new ball game. Does a drink mean I have to dance with you? Talk to you? Go home with you? And what is the proper way of rejecting such attention? The bartender or waitress brings it over to you, "This is from that man over there." And if I'm not interested, do I smile politely and refuse the drink? I'm not one to let good alcohol go to waste, but it seems that it would just be wrong to accept a gift of sorts without at least humoring the guy. And generally I'm not in the mood. There has to be some proper way to handle such a situation with the utmost etiquette. But how?

Oh Emily Post, where are you when I need you?

Trends

I'm glad that pomegranates are out this year because they are really hard to eat. And though I've never seen a blood orange, I'm sure they are more my speed.

The Pendulum Swings Back: Finding a Balanced Feminism

In the end, all of these things go back to the “what about me?” mentality. So if I look at the situation frankly, I feel no need to keep it going because the cause has done enough to serve me—I can vote and own property and all those lovely things. So why bother trying to further it? Which is, in itself, a difficult question to answer since I don’t really know what the cause is trying to do. Or who is in charge. To play devil’s advocate, why bother making any changes that will take power from white, upper-middle-class, capitalist society? Perhaps I am marginalized as a woman (which, despite the literature, I still doubt), but I am definitely a part of the “dominant” groups that feminists are trained to loath. Just as we consider whether or not men benefit from feminism, I don’t know if I can find the motivation for someone in my subgroup to bother with feminism. Why would those in power be motivated to give up their dominance? I ask myself, “what about me?” and find that I am just as satisfied now as ever. Ironically, it turns out that my “oppressive” patriarchal religion is the driving force that convicts me to fight injustice in the world. Because I feel blessed by God’s grace, I realize the value of sharing this blessing with others. If Jesus came to heal the sick and brokenhearted, and I profess to want to be like Him (which I do), then I should also be concerned with helping and healing others.

Then my other beef has been the negative attitude of the class, which if I may be so bold to assume, seems the attitude of feminists everywhere: it’s still not enough! When we look at history and see how far we have come, it really makes me happy. I am so thankful to be living in this age when women really do have such great freedom of vocational and lifestyle choices. Then, I go to class and my optimism just can’t hold up. By the time the 4:30 bell releases us, I want to bash faces in or slit my wrists. In bold letters across one of the recent readings, I found myself etching (like really digging the pen a few pages deep) the words, “what would it take for you to be satisfied?” I don’t know if this “all or nothing” attitude is the most effective. Watching the Colbert Report the other day, one of the guests, discussing her new book, criticized the war in Iraq. She claimed that the problem with how America handled the situation is that we gave the UN an ultimatum—you’re either for us or your against us. And since they could not wholeheartedly agree with our tactics, many countries bailed. It’s as if we forced them into the enemy position. Just as more and more countries jumped ship after 9/11, it seems that more and more people are leaping from the feminist bandwagon, dusting off their shoes with good riddance. Instead of taking the time to rejoice in the small victories, it seems that feminists remain bitter. “Still not enough!” they protest, and their supporters, finding them gracelessly displeased with even the most grand changes and concessions, eventually get tired and quit helping. He throws up his hands: “I can’t ever please you!” And it’s not worth it for him to keep trying. He bails.

Meanwhile, I hope that I don’t become frustrated and jump ship. As much as I have dreaded the inevitable mudslinging in the readings and class, I am trying to remember the good and seek small ways that I can begin to make a change. Truly, many aspects of feminism are not only worthwhile for me to support, but follow directly with the type of character that the Bible encourages. I love reading Paul’s admonishments to married couples. Yes, he asks wives to submit to their husbands, but his command is greater for the men—they are called to love their wives, sacrificially, just as Christ loved the church. Marriage, then, is this grand analogy, intended to mirror God’s love for his people. As a woman, knowing men who love in this way, why would I not delight to follow their direction? Of course I make my own decisions, am rational and smart, but when I see the kind of selflessness of my father and male friends, submission isn’t such a foreign concept. I listen to my father’s advice because I know how much he loves me and I know that he is wise. Why would he steer me wrong? So if I chose one day (and thank the Lord that I do have this choice) to marry, I will look for someone that I can respect, before I put myself under the authority of any random shmuck. I don’t approach patriarchy as the problem itself because I’ve seen it implemented in ways that were hopeful and healing and good. I won’t be blind to problems in this world, and I hope I never freeze up when given the opportunity to act on behalf of those that are unfairly treated.

Like Snakes on a Plane...

...only there's just one snake. And it's me. And the plane is my feminism class. And it has nothing to do with Samuel L. Jackson. Or really the plot, structure, themes, etc. of the movie as a whole. Point being, I'm starting to feel like a sneaky infiltrator in my feminism class, sitting there wide eyed, appropriately reacting, laughing, mocking....all against the big, bad oppressive patriarchy. We received our paper topics today. And like my professor kindly suggested, I think I'm going to take apart the movie The Little Mermaid as my literary analysis. The intellect that I am, I see no difficulty is analyzing the clearly sexist, classist story, bashing the overtones of "us" versus "the other." My words will change lives, touch the deepest parts of souls everywhere, tear down the walls of patriarchy brick by brick! My paper will be the afternoon delight of feminist critique.

And I won't take a word of it to heart. I'll still love Ariel, sing the songs...probably marry into the very patriarchy that I can so adequately theorize against. Because when it comes down to it, I'm great at mindlessly regurgitating. Thank you, Academia.

Nails and Needles (aka, what I'm going to name my band...)

Many of you know that my cousin, Mark, is over in Iraq right now, fighting the 120 degree weather (often without AC), restlessness, and low morale...among other things. Every now and then, he sends out an email update with cool stories about what they've been doing. However, this week, his story involved less gunfire and more hilarity, hence, I feel like I should share it with my little blog world. Without his permission. What are obnoxious little cousins for?

For those of you who know me best, this will serve as yet another classic “first impression Mark” story. So I have been dealing with an ingrown toenail for the past week, and I finally decided to go to the medics to get it taken care of since my self aid failed at repairing the problem. So I went there and while I was waiting, a cute nurse walks out from the back and did an honest-to-goodness double-take when she saw me sitting on the couch. I tried to act cool and unaffected, but I totally noticed and I tried not to laugh or let her know that I caught her even though we were both looking at each other. When I finally got called up, she walked up to the guy that called me and insisted on helping him out with me. For those of you who know my history with needles, you will understand why this didn’t make me feel good since I knew she was about to witness my “kryptonite” firsthand. Sure enough, during the patient Q&A with the guy and her taking my vitals, they asked me to rate the pain on a scale of 1-10, and I answered with a 7. She asked if I was going to cry, and I told her, “not yet, but maybe when you break out that needle.” Then I went into my history with needles and told her that there was a good chance that I would pass out and that there was no way I would not be watching this operation. She seemed like it wasn’t a big deal, but it didn’t help me feel “cool” or tough anymore, especially since I have a legitimately cool job that I had worked into the conversation (and she had already seen my painted weapon, which always draws attention).

So I laid back on the table they put me up on (in anticipation of what would most likely happen once they started operating) and the doctor then asked if I was going to pass out, and I told him that there was a good chance. So he asked for the iodine or whatever they wave under one’s nose when they pass out. So this procedure calls for a “digital block” which consists of 4 needles to numb the toe. My buddy, Gibson, told me he had this done back in April, and he had told them to stop after the 2^nd needle b/c it hurt so badly, so I had that in the back of my mind walking in. So they start sticking me and the pain is WAY up there on the scale. I start breathing fast and long story short, they had to stop after the first 3 to give me a break, b/c I started hyperventilating and the doctor had to get an oxygen mask to put over my mouth since my rapid breathing caused a CO₂ buildup which resulted in the muscles in my arms, mouth, and tongue to spasm and contract, preventing me from controlling them as well as an additional load of lots of pain and inability to speak (I had to resort to mumbling and head nods from there on). Oh yea, and I don’t think I ever actually passed out, but the doctor did remove the oxygen mask several times to wave the whatever under my nose and coach me on taking deep breaths. So after some deep breaths, they proceeded with the 4^th, and what was supposed to be the final, needle. After which, they asked if I could feel them applying pressure and I still could! So another doctor offered me her hand to grab onto saying that I would need to squeeze her hand b/c the next needle was going to be “a big one.” As soon as they stuck this 5^th, HUGE needle directly into the top of my toe, I remember thinking that I wanted to break every finger in this lady’s hand as some measure of retribution for having a hand in all this pain. I guess I wasn’t squeezing as hard as I thought I was (since I really couldn’t control my hands at that point), b/c she didn’t even make a sound or tell me to let up, so I guess that was a good thing. At one point, that doctor even brought over the cute nurse to feel my arms since she was new and wanted to feel what a “normal” spasm, as a result of hyperventilating, felt like. You can imagine my excitement at realizing I had become a medical prop for this cute nurse that I have already lost major cool points on, but what could I do?

Finally the procedure was over, and when I regained control of my hands I tried to sit up, but had to lie back down since I started feeling woozy. When I sat back up again, the guy who originally called me back and was questioning me said, “man that was awesome, you turned totally pale and hyperventilated.” And then the cute nurse chimed in that I “really took it like a champ and didn’t even pass out.” My response to both was that it was the complete OPPOSITE of awesome and not fun. The cutie just smiled at me while I shook my head in shame at her. I can only imagine what she was thinking after all this. I didn’t end up saying anything to her after that, b/c I couldn’t really think of anything good to say nor could I figure out how I would even see her again unless, I feigned illness so I could go back. However, she happens to work in a medical tent that is different from the one I am supposed to receive treatment in so even that probably wouldn’t work. So yea, I came up empty handed on this one, but after the guy gave me some Tylenol for the pain, he said I would probably be back later for something stronger once the numbing meds wore off, and I figured if I saw her again at that time and she had a favorable reaction, then I would say something. However, when I did end up going back later, she wasn’t there so no dice.

So, am I upset that this didn’t have a happy ending? Nah, I can still take away the satisfaction of the “double take” she gave me as well as her jumping on the chance to take care of me. And (maybe more importantly), she is still an Army chick, so I may be seeing her through 8-months-of-deployment-eyes anyway. Man, really I need to come home already! =)


Ahh Markle Sparkle...how I love you!

A Little Bible Never Hurt Anyone

On my way back from the Mud-run on Saturday (if you don't know what I'm talking about, just you wait till the pictures go up on facebook), I pulled out my Bible on cd, flipped...or rather skipped...to the appropriate track and caught up on a little 2nd Chronicles. And now, for the paraphrase:

So King Ahab of Israel wants to buddy up with Jehoshephat from Judah to go to war, and Jehoshephat is like, ok, sure. Let's do this. But he's smart so he says, check with the prophets. So Ahab's prophets are all like, "yeah, go to war!" All enthused and such. But Jehoshephat says, "naw man, do you have any prophets of the LORD? (Like all caps kind of LORD, which means Yahweh, not any of those other gods that one might translate to lord in the lower caps sense of the term) Cuz you ought to check with them." And Ahab is like, "yeah...well we've got this one guy, but I hate him because he never prophesies anything good about me. Only disaster."

Um...duh! Of course Ahab hates the guy. Turns out the prophet, Micaiah had some major bad news for Ahab: this crazy vision about scattered sheep on the mountain and a spirit who lies to all the other prophets. Granted, Ahab gets pissed at this, puts Micaiah in jail, and goes off to war anyways. Then he gets jacked between the scales of his armor, his crew loses, and he dies watching the battle go south.

And this has been Bible stories according to Meredith. Funny how people care more about what they want to hear than what is actually true.

And because I'd hate to end this post on a thought-provoking, dramatic twist, here's another lovely tidbit from a couple of tracks later:

"and you yourself will have a severe sickness with a disease of your bowels, until your bowels come out, day after day, because of the disease. The LORD aroused against Jehoram the anger of the Philistines and of the Arabs who are near the Ethiopians. They came up against Judah, invaded it, and carried away all the possessions they found that belonged to the king’s house, along with his sons and his wives, so that no son was left to him except Jehoahaz, his youngest son. After all this the LORD struck him in his bowels with an incurable disease. In course of time, at the end of two years, his bowels came out because of the disease, and he died in great agony. His people made no fire in his honor, like the fires made for his ancestors."

That's pleasant.

Let me know if you find the key.

I apologize for my absence lately, but I haven't found much that I wanted to write about. Actually there are plenty of things going through my head right now, but none of them seem blog-worthy. I promised myself when I started this blog that it would never turn into a secret diary from whence I could refer to people (that happen to be my readers) in hopes that they get the secret encoded message and respond in the way I would like.

The same principle applies to myspace profile songs--I mean--what do those things mean anyway? If they are an expression of how you feel currently or about life, then WHAT IN THE WORLD do they really mean? It's the inherent problem of poetry: it rarely means what it sounds like on the surface, which is both the draw and the frustration of the beast. Not to throw anyone under the bus, but what am I supposed to assume when I hear lyrics like, "Everybody know that I believe if you spell it out for me. Spell it out so everyone can see. All that really matters now to me is I could set you free." Besides the fact that I'm not sure I quite understand the song itself completely, I catch myself over analyzing: who is said friend hoping will hear and respond to the song? And what should is that person supposed to be spelling out? And what about my other friend with her Amy Winehouse song: "I cried for you on the kitchen floor. I cheated myself like I knew I would. I don't ya I was trouble. You know that I'm no good..." What makes certain music resonate with us? I'll be the first to admit that my favorite stuff is usually pretty emo (I was raised on country, what do you expect?), and I'm often guilty of encoding messages in everything I say. Perhaps I'm doing it right now--trying to avoid expressing myself by talking about how difficult it is to express ones self. (tricky huh?) So I'll go ahead and claim hypocrisy when I say that I think you should stop doing this--the whole game of saying things covertly. I understand that having a filter is important, but I forget what is withheld for wisdom's sake and what I'm just afraid to say.

But, Well, It's Christmas...

Tonight I caught the tail end of Love Actually, which my roommates were watching while I studied. Actually I fell asleep studying, but that's beside the point.

So at the end of this movie, almost every story is resolved by someone finally admitting their feelings to the person they love, and it always seems to include the phrase, "I know this sounds crazy, but, well, it's Christmas...and if you can't be honest on Christmas, then..." So then the two get together, I start to cry, and they cut to the next story, which begins the whole process over again. (Because, for those of you unfamiliar with the movie, it covers a whole slew of different love stories) Apparently what I missed about Christmas all these years was that it's a time when we can finally be honest about how we feel. I guess this means that now I have roughly six months to work up the nerve to tell people what I really think of them.

Thank goodness I don't participate in any Christmas-in-July extravaganzas.

In What Way Does He Provide?

We spent the first hour or so in my feminism class last week introducing ourselves so that we could get a sense of who is in the class. Now, we sit in a circle so that we can have a better forum for discussion of all the crazy topics Diana introduces. Everyone had a turn, and, like the dork that I am, I took notes. "Eric: enjoys his beard because he prefers not to shave." And, "Caroline: climbed Kilimanjaro." You know, little snippets to remember each person by, because I've found that in discussion classes like this, it's nice to get to know each other by name. Dorky, but useful.

After my introduction, I cannot imagine what my tag line might have been (thankfully no one else seemed interested in writing things down). "Meredith: princess for kids' parties." Or maybe "Meredith: decided to go for more than an MRS degree after non-Christian high school boyfriend, though still plans to be a homemaker." Probably not that last one...it was a bit long. Anyway, I've now successfully pinned myself as the token Southern, Christian, conservative woman in the class, which makes me the go-to girl and voice of authority on my particular sub-culture.

So the topic arises, do any women actually get married hoping for a man to provide for them? I'm head-down, writing notes, but I raise my other hand anyways. I don't even have to look up to see that everyone is staring at me--the sound of their heads sharply turning to look my way was beyond audible. Diana is equally shocked: "I'm curious. In what way are you hoping he will provide for you?" For some reason I become awkwardly inarticulate. Well, it would be nice to have someone take care of me financially. Since the things I like to do don't always pay. But I guess that isn't really true--I mean, I'm doing fine right now on my own, making plenty of money working jobs that I enjoy. But I guess if I were married to someone and didn't have to work, then I could pursue my art more--have time to really devote to writing and such. So I don't really need someone, per say, financially...but I...

Thankfully someone cut me off and eventually the conversation went in a new direction. So it left me pondering for myself--am I really looking for someone to provide? And if so, what does that look like? I mean, if it's money I want, then shouldn't I call up the Hungarian? I'll probably end up married to a missionary or an artist like myself, and we'll both have to fight to make ends meet. I think it might make life more exciting if it turns out like that. Who wants to be comfortable? Where's the fun in that?

Which brings me to my next question: aside from the fact that, frankly, I would just like to be married and have someone to come home to, what overwhelming need does marriage really provide? Because I honestly don't need anything right now. There are plenty of things that would be nice that I don't necessarily have in bulk in my life, but when you boil it down, I'm doing ok.

Now, I've got to head back to my studies: the volumes of dense feminist propaganda, you know...that takes some intensive digestion even during the third round of re-reading. I still maintain my enthusiasm, though I haven't made up my mind to convert just yet (I still gotta make sure I'm allowed to keep Jesus, Thanksgiving, capitalism and so forth). It would be foolish for me to say that the class has changed my mind about wanting to be married, but it's actually giving me the kind of reality check that I think more Christian women (perhaps especially in the South) need--marriage isn't going to fulfill all of your dreams. Though lovely, I'm sure, marriage involves much more than bon bons and soap operas.

Supplimental Information for Previous Post

April 29, 2005

Freshman Writing 140

June Cleaver to Rosie the Riveter: Finding Fulfillment in Choice

From the popular television series Leave it to Beaver to Desperate Housewives and movies like The Stepford Wives and Mona Lisa Smile, popular culture provides much social commentary on gender roles, particularly within the institution of homemaking. The stereotypes themselves are unclear—some maintain a picturesque view of the homemaker vacuuming in pearls while others envision a lazy woman in sweats watching soap operas and talk shows. If a homemaker is defined as a person with no full-time paid employment outside the home, a wide range of possibilities for spending time and energy exist. Some argue that the institution of homemaking is responsible for proliferating stereotypes, but upon further examination of how homemaking has evolved over the years, one finds that a much broader range of possibilities exists. Myths and stereotypes about the institution of homemaking provide no adequate reason to condemn it. Instead, the importance of homemakers to the community reveals a deep moral need for understanding and supporting them, which would strengthen their ability to contribute different and much needed talents to society.

The strong Feminist resurgence of the 1960s and 70s rebelled against the family stereotypes of earlier decades, striving for equality in the workplace and the freedom to choose careers outside of the home. Women no longer wanted to be viewed as domestic help or childcare providers. However, in an effort to prove their capability to compete in the “man’s world,” radical feminists began to see women who were content with homemaking as a threat, and some even argued that any woman who claims to be happy as a housewife is only blind to oppression because of years of social conditioning. While the goal of the movement, which was equality regardless of sex, made many significant advances, some of the extremist views have been detrimental to society as a whole. Today, many women complain that “the pressure to succeed in the public world of commerce and culture is no better than the pressure women felt in those awful, benighted, 1950s to become full-time makers of a home for husband and children” (Fields). Some have misinterpreted the ability of women to choose professional careers as a mandate that all women must enter the workforce. One of the current stereotypes of homemakers today is that they are either too lazy to get a “real” job or are incapable of handling domestic duties along with a profession. Proliferation of this new stereotype has given the institution of homemaking a negative connotation. A recent news article explains:

Feminists and their bosom buddies among the cultural elite sneer at stay-at-home moms. Who would proudly call herself a ‘homemaker’ these days? Not many people. Even the most prominent holdouts recently bowed to pressure. This July, the Future Homemakers of America, a 220,000-member student organization, changed its name. Goodbye, homemakers. Hello, Family, Career, and Community Leaders of America (Gahr).

Society’s negative view of homemaking causes unwarranted shame for those who choose that lifestyle and often promotes an opposite stereotype of women—the assumption that all women want careers outside the home. The general public usually rejects the stereotype that a woman’s “place” is the home, and it should likewise reject the feminist stereotype that a woman’s “place” is the workforce. Consequentially, one cannot blame either the home or the workforce for encouraging stereotypes, but must find fault with those who have a misinformed opinion of both. Though homemaking is often associated with stereotypes, its existence does not encourage the idea that women are only suitable for a domestic role, but merely shows that certain women, and men as well, prefer this lifestyle choice.

While many of the current problems and stereotypes of homemaking deal with feminine subjection, the institution of homemaking is not only open to women. With the growing number of stay-at-home dads in the United States, homemaking challenges gender stereotypes by finding it equally acceptable for either a man or a woman to carry responsibilities in the household. In fact, “more than one-third of the women on Fortune magazine’s list of the 50 most powerful women in business have a husband at home either full- or part-time” (“At-Home”). Some fathers have found this to be an especially challenging position in light of preconceived notions of gender roles. Sometimes even more than women, men feel pressure to justify the choice to be a homemaker because of the stereotype that the husband should be the “breadwinner” and the “perception that [they are] getting off easy” (Soma). For gender equality to be truly effective, society must allow both men and women the freedom to choose any combination of work inside or outside of the home. Homemaking is not an excuse for unemployment or a last resort for the untalented, but a legitimate career choice and commitment. One stay-at-home father explains, “What I do may be called homemaking. But what I am is a pioneer, standing on the social frontier, helping to shape a new image of what a father can do and be” (Soma). Like the feminists before them, male homemakers challenge the gender stereotypes of society. Because “homemaking” is not synonymous with “womanhood,” much of the following discussion applies to both men and women, since male homemakers today can find themselves “subjected” to a female counterpart.

Though extreme feminism, as extremes of all sorts, can be detrimental to society, feminists and homemakers really can work together—or be one and the same. Because feminism encourages freedom for women to make choices in different areas of life, it is only natural that a feminist should respect a woman for choosing to be a homemaker, even if many of the profession’s duties seem domestically subservient. The marked difference is choice: “A feminist homemaker stays home because she wants to be with her children, not because she believes it to be her designated place” (McCloskey). This simple distinction shows how homemaking can be a respectable career choice instead of a lifestyle that a person takes on solely because she feels it is her duty as a woman. Further, the morale of a homemaker will be greatly dependant on her choice since “a homemaker who perceives potential for satisfaction in her work is a more motivated worker in addition to being a happier worker” (York 56). A person who feels as if he or she would be satisfied with specific work will be motivated to do it. The reverse is true as well—if a person does not think homemaking would be a satisfactory career path, he or she would logically be unmotivated to excel. Really, the issue comes down to the personal choices of each individual.

Articulation of these desires is particularly important in marriage. Studies show that even though opinions about gender roles have changed, “men still feel pressure to be breadwinners and women still feel they should keep the home fire burning and the hearth clean. An emotional minefield awaits those couples expecting perfect equality…it is crucial to create a situation each partner perceives as fair” (“Dishes”). When a couple decides to marry, or join in a similar union, articulating their future plans and goals is crucial. If both partners highly value careers, then they can share household duties more equally. However, if the husband feels the need to be the provider for the family and the wife would prefer to care for the home, then the two may split chores more unevenly and allow the wife less time for paid employment in order to focus on the home. Unions between couples with differing ideals can be problematic. The two must either reach a compromise or decide not to marry because marrying without discussing expectations can cause resentment for both individuals involved. The personal decisions cannot be generalized based on sex but must be applied within specific marriages. While homemaking does incorporate the traditional picture of femininity—economic dependence, a career secondary to the family, and emphasis on domestic duties—feminist Liz McCloskey remarks that “ironically, it does not feel so funny after all.” Homemaking may not be the career desire for all women, but for some, it can be a genuinely fulfilling lifestyle, despite the stereotypes it seems to embody.

Still, the traditional picture of a homemaker encounters some unique problems and stereotypes of its own that need to be properly addressed. A central problem to the institution of homemaking is that it leaves one spouse dependant on the other for his or her livelihood. If a wife is uneducated or unaccustomed to the workforce, it may be very difficult for her to support herself should her husband no longer be able to provide or choose not to do so. This presented problems in the past as those described as dependant are often viewed as “weaker.” However, new programs, such as The Displaced Homemaker Emergency Loan Act Program, or DHELA, provide options that prevent the homemaker whose livelihood was upset by divorce, death, or other such displacement from being helpless without his or her provider. The availability of aid, along with wider education options decreases dependence by providing a “way out” that many women of the past were never offered. One recipient of the loan said of her experience: “It has made a tremendous difference financially, but also it has given me a sense of independence that at one time I did not have nor did I feel I could have. Through getting started on my own I have acquired self esteem and self confidence that I am very grateful for” (Commission 48). With new programs like DHELA, women can break free from the stereotype that they are the “weaker sex” and need protection from a man. Male domination of women is also problematic in the idea that “the satisfaction of women with marriage is related to how much the husband values her” (Chang). This suggests that the husband has the ability to make a woman feel either fulfilled or unsatisfactory. While the husband’s opinion of his wife will certainly affect her self-esteem, society as a whole also has a great deal of influence over her opinion of her job, and with the growing number of male homemakers, societal approval becomes increasingly important. If gender stereotypes continue, homemakers will encounter the added battle of defending their choice and could suffer from low morale due to under-appreciation. With less restraint on independence, personal satisfaction is a growing problem for the person who chooses this lifestyle of service.

Meanwhile, a homemaker’s work often extends outside the home and into the community. In Taiwan, the Homemakers’ Union and Foundation, HUF, “created a space for the homemaker’s voice. They, as a socially marginalized group, became movement initiators and actors” (AERC). Because these women do not have careers outside the home, they are able to involve themselves in environmental, educational, and consumer issues that affect their everyday lives. This is certainly a benefit to society, since not many career professionals have the excess time or schedule flexibility to become involved in social work. This type of positive organization and helpful aide to society will do more to break down gender stereotypes that insulting or attempting to abolish the institution of homemaking altogether. The trend toward homemakers as an agent for social change challenges the “prevailing belief that the social activities of housewives are hobbies and volunteer activities. These new interests are also different from those of existing women’s organizations in that housewives organize new groups to bring about concrete results in relation to the issues that affect every day life” (“Mass Movements”). For instance, a group of female graduates of the Department of Korean Literature have organized to discuss ideas for children’s books, with the goal of writing ten books each within the year. A member of this group, Park Juglan explains, “Since we don’t like what we see at the bookstores, we try to include useful ideas and environmental concerns. We want to write something useful for our children to read” (“Mass Movements”). These women have found a creative way to use their special talents to serve a need in the community. While housework is a necessary chore, the modern housewife would consider many of her other endeavors to be the real purpose of her occupation. When the homemaker is able to invest time in other worthy causes, he or she can contribute greatly with his or her own special talents and skills. In many cases, homemakers prefer “the activities where their expertise and experiences can be utilized rather than tasks involving simple physical labor” (“Mass Movements”). Though they do not receive monetary pay for work, if they feel that they are able to contribute to a worthy cause that utilizes their unique abilities, homemaking is more fulfilling. For some people, their personal talents and aspirations may involve areas of work outside of the traditional “nine to five” job. For instance, a person who possesses a passion to help the homeless might spend time each week volunteering at a shelter, or a mother who wants to help out the public school system invests in the PTA. Many organizations rely on the volunteer work of those willing to help, and the lack of salary for this labor does not make it any less noble than other professions. In fact, volunteer work may be more commendable because it is performed out of a selfless desire to help others instead of with the intent of getting a return (like a paycheck) for one’s labor. If a person finds that his or her specific skills are more suited to this type of lifestyle, he or she should be encouraged to pursue it. All people are suited for different roles in life and should work together so that each contributes in a unique way to create the most complete and advantageous community possible. By repudiating housewives, society would destroy a very important contributor to its well-being and would weaken the life experience for all involved.

Arguably, feminism has achieved great accomplishments in encouraging society to value the thoughts and opinions of women. Such a dramatic and radical movement may have been necessary to bring some of the blatant circumstances of inequality to light, and now society can move toward a more acceptable middle ground—where personal autonomy in relation to lifestyle choices is respected and revered for the business professional and homemaker alike. If the homemaker feels happy with her role at home and finds appreciation from her spouse and the society at large, she is then free from the oppression and stereotyping that women’s liberation movements have tried to prevent. Likewise, the introduction of men into the institution of homemakers continues to abolish gender stereotypes for both sexes. Gender equality and homemaking can go hand-in-hand. Today, “Junes” and “Rosies” can be best friends—both respectful of each others’ choices and proud of the special contributions each has made to her community.

Works Consulted

“At-Home Dads on the Rise.” ProQuest. Voice Male. (2003): p 6. 21 March 2005 .

Chang, Hyekyung, Kim, and Youngran. “A Study of the Psychological and Emotional State of Full-Time Housewives.” ProQuest. Women’s Studies Forum. 17 (2001): p 163. 21 March 2005 .

Commission on the Status of Women. An Evaluation of the Displaced Homemaker Emergency Loan Act Program. Sacramento: 1990.

“Doing More Than the Dishes, Honey?” ProQuest. Voice Male. (2005): p 7. 21 March 2005 .

Fields, Suzanne. “The High Honor of Being a Homemaker.” LookSmart’s FindArticles. 2002. News World Communications, Inc. 22 March 2005 .

Gahr, Evan. “Former Homemakers of America.” LookSmart’s FindArticles. 1999. American Enterprise Institute for Public Policy Research. 22 March 2005 .

The Hearst Corporation. Reader Reactions to Magazines: A Study of the Homemaker Readers of Six Magazines. New York: Market Facts, 1963.

“Housewives: New Mass Movements.” ProQuest. Korean Women Today. 41 (1993): p 7. 21 March 2005 .

Liao, Shu-chuan. “Voices from Within-Homemakers as Agents for Social Change.” 2001 AERC Proceedings. 2001. Northern Illinois University, USA. 20 March 2005 .

Mackeprang, Muriel. A Comparison of the Marital Adjustment of Couples in Which the Wife is Gainfully Employed Full Time Outside the Home with Couples in Which the Wife is a Full-Time Homemaker. Los Angeles: The University of Southern California Graduate School, 1949.

McCloskey, Liz. “Feminist Homemaker Confesses: Taking the Irony out Housework.” LookSmart’s FindArticles. 1996. Commonweal Foundation. 22 March 2005 .

Soma, Tom. “What Do You Do? – Father as Full-Time Homemaker.” LookSmart’s FindArticles. 1995. Mothering Magazine. 22 March 2005 .

York, Karen Portugal. Factors of Occupational Satisfaction in the Work of the Homemaker. Los Angeles: The University of Southern California Graduate School, 1969.

Floundering Feminist: When Jones Aren't Enough and the Genes are Missing

This summer, I'm taking a class on feminism and despite what most would assume about me, I'd actually like to ally myself with these bra-burners. Throughout the years, "women's libbers" have gotten a pretty bad rap--especially from those in the white supremacist capitalist patriarchal neocolonialist Western society in which I was raised. (Yeah, say that five times fast--the book I'm reading loves to refer to this demographic as such.) From the moment my parents gave me my first baby doll, mommy-training seemed the most natural vocational route for me. I cook. I sew. I clean. And I love all of it. Domesticity is more prominent in my blood than antibodies.

My freshman year at SC, I was in a philosophy class that focused on social/moral issues, which was linked to a writing class that encouraged us to further research and explore those ideas for ourselves. Here I met Alli, who would be my roommate for the following year and a half as well as the primary feminist voice in my life. I think that Alli and I became friends because we were mutually intrigued by one another. I was inspired by her passion and enjoyed getting into debates with her about the class's hot topics: abortion, death penalty, etc. Alli knew her stuff, which made me want to solidify mine. If I want to be anti-abortion, for instance, I need to know why. So in the same way, if I plan to claim that feminists are manish, hairy work-a-holics, I need the proof to back it up. Which of course I haven't found. Actually, I'm discovering the opposite: the feminist mantra is anti-sexism, not anti-manism or anti-femininity. In fact, I wrote one of my favorite papers from that year about the value of homemakers (see next post)--and how feminists who demean homemaking are actually undermining their own cause by taking from their sisters the freedom to choose staying home. I think what scared me off from feminism initially was that I made the false assumption, which so many people continue to hold on to, that feminism just wants to pick a fight. In truth, well-studied feminists discourage stereotyping on a grander scale. No, women are not made for the home, but that doesn't mean that they are solely made for the workplace. It means just that we don't fit into neat little categories--which is great. So if I want to be married and stay home with my children, then feminists should be (and are) behind me all the way.

All this being said, the class reading has been very discouraging to my budding feminist beliefs. Though I am pleased by the definition of feminism that the book (Feminism is for Everybody by Bell-Hooks) and my class provide, I still find that many feminists are unwilling to allow just anyone to join their cause. They don't want any half-hearted supporters--which I do applaud. There's nothing more irritating that a person who is lukewarm about their beliefs. But what I can't figure out--and I hope I learn by the end of the class--is why I must believe certain ideas about certain issues in order to have any clout among feminists. I feel betrayed by my birth status--as a white, upper-middle class woman, I'm already disadvantaged because, according to Bell-Hooks, I don't understand the plight of most women in America. And the fact that I support capitalism may the last straw to trigger the demise of my inner-feminist. How could I support women's equality if I also support a economic system in which people "unfairly" gain because of their hard work? How dare I suggest that I support equality when I give favor to those that, for their efforts, deserve it? I'm willing to give everyone a fair shot (read: opportunity to work hard for their own success) regardless of gender, color, class and so forth. But I just can't see how it would benefit anyone involved to start handing out free stuff, free advancement, free acceptance to people. Communism, anyone? The theory sounds fine and dandy until you try to put it into practice and we all become lazy slobs.

If being a feminist simply means being anti-sexism, I'm ready to join the bandwagon. Unfortunately it's those little disclaimers that might get me. Equality? Yes. But not if it means closing my eyes to the realities of human nature and the way societies function.

I can't wait until I start dissecting these theories in light of the Bible...

To Have and to Hold

I always thought I wanted to marry a GQ-type guy so that the two of us always looked darling standing next to each other, a magazine worthy couple. But I may be second guessing that...just a little bit...

As if I needed another reason to want to be married, I found a new, and much more legitimate and convincing one, today.

I need the extra closet space.

The Hungarian Sugardaddy and A Pet Lion: My Reality and My Dreamworld

To explain how I ended up at a formal dinner where my roommate and I were the only two women under forty five in a room full of over 100 ex-football players would actually be fairly simple, but I think it makes the story more interesting if we jump right into the action. After our first drinks (rum and diet coke...but mostly rum), rolls and a salad, most of the other dinner guests paid strict attention to the speaker while the staff served the main course (which included both steak and chicken). But Frankie, my new Hungarian friend, since we were sitting at the same table, paid his strict attention to me. I should have known things would shortly head downhill when his friend leaned over to me to say that Frankie really needed to be distracted from bidding on the silent auction. Apparently, he'd already thrown down over 10 thousand (which he could afford, says his friend). We try to distract Frankie so he won't blow his entire fortune on football memorabilia. I begin talking to him and learn that he used to play soccer for the Hungarian national team. Still not sure how he was connected to the football alumni event we were attending. Perhaps he got confused by America's athletics misnomer, "football," which means something entirely different to us than the rest of the world. Regardless, I had an old athlete on my hands. Quite literally, really, since he kept grabbing my hand and kissing it. "I give you my number," he says, and I laugh because it doesn't require me to come up with the right words to respond on the spot. "I give you my number, and you call me. I make it worth your while." His accent is thick, but not so much so that I don't realize this is a proposition. People are staring and hoping we'll hush him so that everyone can listen to the speaker. "You call me. I take you to Beverly Hills. I pick you up in nice limo. We go to nice restaurant. I buy you nice things." More awkward smiles. More forced laughing. "I give you my number. You call me. I take you to the moon!" An impressive offer if I've ever heard one. His friend tries to help out, and Frankie leans over to him, but I overheard. So does everyone within a table's radius of us: "I know I'm ugly as **** and old, so I must pay for love..." More shh-ing. Eventually the roommie and I make our escape, but not without more hand-kissing and Frankie's card in my purse. Of course I throw it away (lies: it's sitting on my desk) because I would never actually call (despite my desire for a shopping spree) since it's completely inappropriate (not to mention a pretty sweet offer). Do people actually do stuff like that??

So on a completely unrelated note, I dreamed last night that I was living in the Menlo house again, only it was a real house with a garage and a back yard. And our landlord was over, trying to assess our request for an orange cone to hold open the gate in our backyard. I think this was a sketchy thing to ask for since we wanted it for some secret entrance for Alli during an upcoming event. So being the best liar in the bunch, I come up with some excuse and take the landlord to explain and demonstrate. Mid-excuse, our pet lion digs up a yellow cone (not what we really wanted, but it would do) and presents it to me. Everyone is thankful for the lion who saved the day. A couple of my friends write a song to honor him and promote lion-awareness and respect for this underrated species. The lion stands up and gives me a hug. He is strong and dangerous, and when he strokes my hair I think about my vulnerable position and how he could easily rip my head off. Meanwhile, the song is a hit, and I think about the hidden Christian implications of a gentle lion who could kill you but doesn't. Later I am at a big hotel in Vegas where we are having a retreat. Scott and Lara put me in charge of Harper, so I carry him around from club to club. At one, I finally find Justine (because apparently I am looking for her) and she's having dinner with a bunch of people I don't know. So Harp and I join, then we clear the room for a princess party which I feel bad about because the poor owner isn't making any money on drinks. After we're done, I traipse off with Harper on my hip to find some of the AGO guys because they are supposed to be somewhere it the hotel. Before I know it, I am involved in a grand and highly illegal plot to blow up the building, but because I'm smart, I save the day--we effectively explode what needs to be exploded and I create a diversion by singing into this pile of metal coils which distracts the people that are out to get us and protects the ones we love. The next morning, I safely return Harper to Lara, borrow some clothes from her because I am somehow naked. Then like a true Shakespearean comedy, everyone gets married in the end.

Beth Moore Book Review

Several months back, I recommending this book to someone, even though I hadn't read it yet, on the authority of those that consider Beth Moore to be one of the greats of Christian women authordom. Actually, I bought Jesus, the One and Only my freshman year when I was looking for some new books to read. Yesterday, I finally picked it up. The book chronicles the life of Jesus in a way that makes it more like a narrative. Not that reading any of the gospels is insufficient in itself, but Moore takes the time to explain certain words and ideas from their original language and context, so that the reader will understand a more complete picture of Jesus. For so many, Bible stories exist in this fictitious, other-world of "way back then," but Moore invites us to imagine with her what things might have been like. Still, she's very clear when it comes to explaining which parts are doctrine, historical facts, and her own imaginings, which is of course important to me because I find nothing more frustrating than someone's misrepresenting God.

While I have by no means finished it yet, I wanted to share some thoughts about what I've read so far and how God has used the book to speak personally to me. I love how He is so personal--how He knows me through and through. I think there are big things happening around me that I've been lately unaware of. Twice this week, I woke up ridiculously early (like yesterday at 4 am) feeling completely awake for some reason. So I start to pray, thinking that maybe someone somewhere needs prayer. Then I got up and pulled out this book, which I've been meaning to start soon.

Chapter one blew me away. It was like God woke me up early just so that I could read these words:

"Have you almost given up on God answering an earnest, long-term prayer of your heart? Not becoming hopeless over a repetitious request can be terribly challenging. God never missed a single petition from the children of Israel to send their Messiah; nor did He miss a solitary plea from the aching hearts of a childless couple. God does not have some limited supply of power, requiring that we carefully select a few choice things to pray about. God's power is infinite. God's grace and mercy are drawn deeply from the bottomless well of His heart...Like Zecharaiah and Elizabeth, continue to walk faithfully with God even though you are disappointed. Walking with God in the day-in/day-out course of life swells your assurance that God is faithful and enjoyable even when a request goes unmet. Recognizing all the other works God is doing in your life will prevent discouragement as you await your answer. Zechariah waited a long time for God's answer, but when it came, it exceeded everything the priest could have thought or asked."

God blessed Zechariah's barren wife with a baby, who turned out to be John the Baptist, the forerunner of the long-awaited Messiah. I'm sure it sucked for Elizabeth to wait all of those years, wondering why God had not given her any children, but the situation made John's birth all the more incredible.

I still hate to wait, but yesterday morning, it was as if God softly whispered in my ear.

I love you, Meredith, and I hear your prayers. Trust me. This is going to be good...

Oh, Music

Justin might be bringing sexy back, but elsewhere in the music scene, the content is lacking. On my way home, I heard three songs in a row that were lyrically sub-par, and I just really felt the need to share my shock.

To detox after work, I turn to Old Faithful--105.someodd, a country music station, where I go when I'm feeling nostalgic. Some guy, who I later learn is Brad Paisley, is crooning away to a crush about how he wants to get with her, when he uses the line, "I'd like to check you for ticks." Ticks? Really? Thank goodness girls don't say stupid stuff like that. I press number 5 on my radio. Avril's punchy tune is sure to bring me back to reality from my backwoods pick-up-line experience.

"Hey hey, you you...I don't like your girlfriend. No way, no way--I think you need a new one!"

Well, at least she's being clear about her intentions, right? It continues: "She's like, so whatever. You could do so much better..." Classy, I know. I would have been horrified if anyone saw my head bobbing along. "In a second you’ll be wrapped around my finger. Cause I can, cause I can do it better. There’s no other. So when's it gonna sink in? She’s so stupid. What the hell were you thinking?!" I change the station once more, just in case I get in a car crash and they can prove what I was listening to (like the whole clean underwear thing). Back to country perhaps? Now it's Toby Keith telling me all about how "a high maintenance woman don't want no maintenance man" despite the fact that he's "got all the right tools" and "knows how to use them." Catchy, smart lyrics...I'm feeling dumber when I finally make it back to my apartment. Free at last.

As I wait for the elevator, some Mercedes speeds by, not quite fast enough for me to miss the hook. The song gets stuck in my head as I swipe my way up to the fourth floor.

"This is why, this is why I'm hot. I'm hot cuz I'm fly. You ain't, cuz you not..."

A dream is a wish your heart makes...

No offence, Cinderella, but I really hope this isn't true. Last night I dreamed that I was giving my oral presentation for my writing class...except the class was a huge lecture hall and there were bright lights preventing me from being able to see. Then, as I was trying to speak, my gum was getting in the way, so I would try to discreetly remove it and place it on my notes page...since there was no where else to put it. But it was really hard to get out, and after a few moments, there would be more in my mouth, more to pull out--but there was always gum and it made it hard for me to speak and ruined my presentation.

Then I went to a petting zoo, and all of the animals seemed really happy to be there and they were lovely to pick up and pet. So my cousin, sister, and I were hanging out, playing with the animals and doing some other miscellaneous shopping, when I decide to bite the kitten's head off. I mean...what the...?? And of course I am totally freaked out by what I just did so I make Natalie get rid of the body. Then I end up in a chase scene with a dog trying to bite me. I make my way from the store/zoo area into a this giant hall of sorts where the dog brings me to fight some guy in medieval type garb. Of course I need to don a green hooded cape (poorly made, by the way) and fight the guy off. I think that might be all I remember happening before I woke up.

Clearly, this cannot be a wish my heart would make, so I did a little research. Justine says that the sword is a phallic reference according to Freud, so you can take that however you please. Of course she had nothing to say about the kitten except telling Lauren (my roommate) that she can sleep at her place tonight. Here's some of what the Internet had to say:

For the cat lover, cats signifies an independent spirit, feminine sexuality, creativity, and power. If the cat is aggressive, then it suggests that you are having problems with the feminine aspect of yourself.

To see non-white or soiled kittens, indicates trouble ahead for you.

For the cat lovers who dream of cats you have a whole new meaning....if the cat is beautiful you will meet an attractive person who will become your mate.

To dream of biting someone could be a warning that you are overdoing the pressure you are applying to certain people and causing them pain. In other instances it tells of low business practices and a lack of ethics in all your dealings. If you are biting someone as a vampire then you feel like you must make your own way and not be dependent on others, which makes you feel like a 'bloodsucker'. See Vampire. (Now this is super-bizarre because I dreamed the night before last that I was going to a fraternity invite dressed as a vampire)

To dream that you are chewing gum, suggests that you are unable to express yourself effectively. You may feel vulnerable. Alternatively, is symbolizes a sticky situation that you found yourself in. To dream that you are unable to get rid of your gum, suggests that you are experiencing some indecision, powerlessness or frustration.� You may lack understanding in a situation or find that a current problem is overwhelming.

To dream that you participate in a fight, indicates inner turmoil. Some aspect of yourself is in conflict with another aspect of yourself. Perhaps an unresolved or unacknowledged part is fighting for its right to be heard.� It may also parallel a fight or struggle that you are going through in your waking life.

So apparently I am uncomfortable with the feminine side of myself and feel the need to sabotage it by biting its head off. Or if I am prophetic, I am about to meet an attractive person who would become my mate...except I will bite his head off. Neither option seems ideal. Sprinkle in a little insecurity and the inability to express my ideas, a dash of self-conflict, and a sticky situation, and you've got quite a recipe...FOR PSYCHOSIS.

Though I will say that I couldn't help but think of last night's adventures as an upgrade from some of the other dreams I've been having. At least I'm not dreaming blatantly about boys.

Don't Date Me Because I'm Beautiful...

I recently posted a bit of a review of Laura Sessions Stepp's book Unhooked, which discusses the cultural phenomenon of today's youth that prefer uncommitted "hook-ups" to any semblance of relationship. A real problem, I concur. But for the Christian, there's an added layer of difficulty. Not only is it rare for me to meet guys that prefer dating and relationships to hooking up, but a guy who is content with the fact that I won't sleep with him? Unheard of.

Maybe I should have titled this piece "Don't Hate Me Because I'm a Prude," because I'm not sure how beauty factors into all of this. The emo me usually assumes that my far-below quota number of dates this semester has something to do with me being too ugly or fat or stupid. A logical conclusion I'm sure, but my rational side looks at the statistics and thinks, I'm screwed.

Let's work with some numbers. At USC, there are approximately 33,000 students. According to my roommate Lauren, who is a USC tour guide, 48% of them are men. That means 15,840 men on campus. Grad and undergrad. Suppose we use this as a sample pool. The only concentration I know of on campus of "good Christian boys" would be the AGO house, so we'll use them as a reference. According the USC chapter's website, there are roughly 50 active guys. Now if at least 20% of them have girlfriends (a fair estimate I would guess) that leaves 40 available guys on campus, ignoring the fact that most of them are younger than me. This is not a time to be picky. That means that 0.25% of the men on campus are datable. That's one out of every 396 guys I meet that I might actually get with. Dare I eliminate a percentage of boys that I don't find attractive?

It's not really the odds that bother me. According to my mother, "It only takes one!" which is just fine with me, but what is really frustrating is that there is such a small number of good guys out here. Even within the church, you are not guaranteed to find guys that want to date someone, let alone are ok with not having sex. You can hook-up without having sex, but rarely do people date without sex.

Of course, now that I sound utterly pathetic, I should mention that I do know a few gems and that I only get bitter when I get mathematical. Girls are tricky. We so often assume the lowest common denominator--no one's dating me, I must have no value. I know it's a lie. I know my value in Christ, but those numbers are rough to swallow.

More Poetry

We had to write a poem for one of my classes. Try to guess what the subject is!

We are a sisterhood.
Rescued from the raging seas
Or ripped from our ruffled sheets
Depending on how you look at it.
Brought together.
Bought together.
Love and value adorn the heart.

The Parable of the Kid Sister Explained

Confession #1: I'm not actually going to explain what I wanted my poem to mean.

Confession #2: My scripture reference is kind of misquoted...I mean, technically I didn't put quotation marks around it, so I could blame you for making an assumption, but I see no need to start pointing fingers.

Actually, what I really want to talk about a little more is the book that I read that inspired the poem. Unhooked is not written from any certain religious perspective, but rather, the author presents her topic from a journalistic point of view. She claims that her goal in meeting with the many women she interviewed for the book was to listen to what they had to say. And they said a lot. It was fascinating to me to see in print so much of what I have observed here in college. Apparently my experiences aren't too different from many others around the US: no one dates anymore. Relationships are on the back burner until at least our late 20s. At the same time, though, our hearts and bodies long for relational connection, so many girls turn to "hooking up," an ambiguous term that can mean anything from kissing to sex, in order to momentarily satisfy. And this isn't just a secular phenomenon. I have a friend going to a Christian college who was telling me about some of their culture and lingo, saying that "nic-mo"--the "non-committal make-out"--was a popular pastime among the students there. We may not be having sex, but Christians are still hooking up on a tamer level.

So the book goes into all sorts of potential explanations for why girls are ditching relationships for hooking up, citing our e-culture, parental influence (both their advice and example), and drive to succeed in a career as possible culprits. Regardless, what struck me was the outcome of a culture driven by hooking up. Reading about "gray rape" was possibly the most disturbing--it's this idea that because a girl initiates hooking up with a guy, if things end up going further than she wanted them to, she feels responsible. She invites him back to her house, wanting only to fool around a little, he assumes they're going to have sex, she says no, he thinks she's being coy--how can she call this rape? The author argues that in a lot of cases, the girls don't want to put that label on the situation because it implies that they somehow lost control--and hooking up is about being in control of a relationship--female empowerment.

Call me old-fashioned, but I miss the traditional gender roles. I love the feeling of a guy asking me out, getting all dressed up for a date, and getting to know someone new. It's just not the same when you get jazzed up with your girlfriends for the weekend's frat party at the Row, ready to go on the prowl. Yeah, it does feel powerful, but at the end of the day, I'd rather curl up with a man that I know and trust. Anyways, there were so many facets of the book that will probably come up in my writing in the future. I just can't get over how we have strayed from God's design for marriage and intimacy. As if dating wasn't difficult enough, now we hardly even do that. And I don't think I'm going to meet "the one" on the Row.

I Am Your Kid Sister

An ode to those who don't get it, and especially those that do.
Inspired by Unhooked: How Young Women Pursue Sex, Delay Love and Lose at Both by Laura Sessions Stepp

I Timothy 4:12
Above all, look down on your youth, but be an example to other believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith, and in purity.

I am your kid sister.
By three or four years, ten at the most
With a host of new problems that set me apart
From the heart of your issues, impurity, immaturity
That keep us from knowing each other.

My parents have taught me well,
Downplayed the story-book romances with words of wisdom about a career
And I volunteer to build homes in the city and faraway places
To fill up the spaces called vacation that elude my generation.

And I have a job while I keep up with school, but it's not a career.
So I don't understand what you feel when it's been a long day
Which is really okay since you've been where I'm at, we can chat
About me, from who I am to how I should be, call me "free"
And criticise with those eyes that say, "One day you'll grow up and know
How the hard road just gets harder when you're old."

You pat me on the head.
I'm your kid sister.
And you were just like me once.

You know what it's like to multitask the day away, keep up with friends, talk ten at a time, chase your dream, treadmill to stay lean, always running, forward, further.

You fought the enemy, all men, to break their race, found power and ownership to defeat the shame of gray rape. You chose that skirt, that top, that gaze, said "stop" but didn't cry foul when he went too far, didn't cry at all because you're strong, you win, break his heart again--walk away, bolder, colder.

You heard your parents' life stories, and learned enough from them that you don't have to seek their advice like I do when a big problem comes to you, forge ahead, bake bread, bring home the bacon, build a home, build a wall, fortified, run and hide in the sighs of remember when.

Phenomenal woman,
Teach me how to shut things off, show me how to shed my joy
I've lived like you, felt like you, but somehow missed how to quit like you.
Maybe someday I will know what weight really feels like,
The knowledge of experiences that are bound by an age requirement.
I hit the driving age, the drinking age, and someday soon, perhaps, the understanding age.
For now though, I'm not quite there
So pat me on the head, tucked into bed in pink and lace, innocent angel face.
I am your kid sister.