Yesterday, Lucy posted a startling video, Women in Christianity, created and originally posted by Jennifer at My True Self. It interweaves photographs of young women in the full bloom of joy and potentiality with woman-hating words from the history of the church, together with those of some more modern “Christian” men.
I can’t get it out of my head.
I realise I’ve always approached the position of women in the church with intellectual condemnation, with indignation, with mourning for the loss of possibility. Even with rationalisation and compassion: for the historical times, for the teaching, for men’s fear of us.
But I’ve never reacted with anger, and now I feel really, really angry.
I keep recalling scenes from my teenage years. We were mostly innocent girls, but I remember clearly sitting in class with my friends at 12, being explicitly told by a visiting priest that we were responsible for provoking boys to sin. It was our fault. We didn’t even know what he meant, but an uneasiness and confusion was sown in us that day.
A couple of years later in confession, telling the priest I had been necking with my boyfriend. (Not actually because it felt wrong, but because I knew it was supposed to be wrong and as a good Catholic girl I was supposed to confess.) He dragged out of me all kinds of prurient details about exactly how far I was going, what we were doing, how it felt. I’m sure it gave him a thrill. It made me feel degraded.
It’s difficult to over-estimate the awe we felt as children (because that’s what we were: far more innocent than today’s 13 and 14 year-olds) for these priests. They stood before us in the place of Christ. They had a sacred trust. They could not be wrong. They could not be untrustworthy. We were told this again and again.
I was never abused by a priest, but we all know of the great shame of the Catholic church as story after story has emerged from around the world.
And how can we expect anything different when the fathers (oh yes, the fathers) of our Christian faith utter poisonous words of hatred towards women and by extension towards humanity.
Hatred begets hatred, and the trick I now want to learn is to allow my newborn anger to give me energy for change, and not lead to bitterness.
{ 5 comments… read them below or add one }
Thank you so much for the link.
You beautifully weave together so many of the important issues.
I was sexually abused by my youth pastor as a teenager, so your words ring very true with me.
Much peace to you!
tess–not sure how you can say you were “not abused” by a priest. as a mental health counselor i have found that often incidents such as you described both in the classroom and the confessional are the most insidious forms of abuse. thank you for your vulnerability and willingness to step into this conversation. as antony stated, story is so important to our context! blessings to you, friend!
Jennifer, I’m reading your archives now I’ve found you and they are very interesting, including your “too angry?” post which it happens I read after publishing my own post here. A lot of anger to go round, hey?
Lucy, I’m not sure what to say. There have been times when I’ve looked back at those incidents and thought “abuse”, but they seem so petty in the context of the terrible things others go through. They don’t seem important enough… or is that to do with not valuing myself. Hmmm…
hmmm…indeed
i, like you also, was “never abused”, however, i have come to realize the “subtle” wounds that didn’t “seem important” run very deep and impacted me in ways i never imagined. the beauty is that in taking a look at them, they have started to lose their power over me.
i hope you will listen to your own heart for that is where the answers to your questions lie. your compassion is immense and i pray you will lavish some of it on yourself!
just horrifyingly sad.