It was so easy, and the words so sweet

The recent accusations of apostacy levied against John Dehlin of Mormon Stories and Kate Kelly of Ordain Women by LDS Church leaders has me deeply shaken. After a restless few hours in a too-small tent in rural Croatia, I awoke to use the free wifi to see if I could talk to my family or browse Facebook. The first I heard about the news was from Tim, who I have not discussed the matter with at length but I could tell was a combination of angry and sad. It's no secret to anyone who knows us (or reads our blog) that we had been on-again and off-again Mormons for quite awhile. My faith in the Church had been tested and retested, first by my feminist awakening of the deeply-entrenched gender inequality then by the reactions I received by other BYU students when I tried to voice my dissent with the brethren over Proposition 8, then on the discovery of the revisionist history the Church touts as complete truth. Even after being tossed and turned on the waves of discontentment, I continued to believe, because so many of the doctrines were so beautiful and profound to me. I love the notion of eternal families, and I love the soul-satisfying concept we have Heavenly Parents who not only created us but are intimate with the details of our everyday existence. I had felt before what seemed like the presence of divinity in my life, of not only events that were too perfectly aligned in space and time to be chance but also a reassuring calm, a sensation I grew up thinking was the Holy Ghost literally residing within my body.

One common theme I have noticed in the reactions to the excommunication tribunals of John and Kate has been the realization of how hard it is for those of us who doubt the Church. We always hear that the real challenge is being a member of a church that demands so much of its members: we can't drink, we can't have sex before marriage, we even have to wear weird, magic underwear. Members usually take this all in stride, as a mark of their chosenness, their confidence that they are looked upon favorable by God, but it's often discussed how much "easier" it would be to just up and leave the Church and replace your three-hour weekly Sunday meetings with boating on the lake and use your extra 10% income for a nicer car. This is why I've been so struck by the posts of friends and strangers who are vocal in their struggle, who put into words the reality that I shared for so long. For me, staying LDS was by far the obvious and easy choice; the hymns were memorized, the rituals understood, the funeral potato casseroles perfected. The prayers were always the same, the people were familiar, the maroon carpet was even comforting in its own way. I have heard time and time again, that disbelief comes when we are lazy and uncommitted to the gospel, that if we do everything asked of us then we will have a sure knowledge of the truth.

But despite the comfort of our Mormon lifestyle, no matter how much I tried, I eventually could not reconcile what was happening in my head and in my heart with what was playing out in church buildings where I attended weekly meetings, or even what was spoken from the beautiful, hand-carved wooden pulpit from the conference center in Salt Lake City. I tried to drown out my questions with what I did know to be absolutely, 100% true: I loved Tim, I loved the two beautiful children he brought into the world with me, and I did not want anything to come between us. I knew Tim loved not only the gospel but the Church organization itself; no matter how much it chafed against my personality, it completely agreed with his. I knew how much he loved wearing a suit and tie all day on Sunday and reading his scriptures morning and night. Every Sunday, I donned a dress (though sometimes... I still wore Chacos) and tried to participate in my own way, to be true to myself while also being true to the commitment I made to Tim when I married him in the temple. I never was called to anything important, I rarely spoke in sacrament meeting or bore my testimony. I tried to fall behind, to fall in line with the others, to maintain my presence while still continuing to doubt, to question, and to continually renew my faith by reading the words of my feminist sisters who understood completely where I was in my life. After making Tim visibly upset one night not long after we married when I expressed how much the temple ceremony bothered and hurt me, I never brought it up again. I went with him quietly and reverently from then on, not ever wanting to hurt this gentle man who has brought so much happiness into my life.

The night Tim rolled over in bed and told me he was not sure he knew that the Church was true anymore was both the most terrifying and most relieving night of my life. I no longer had to pretend, I could release all of the doubts, all of the anger, all of the grievances without fear of hurting him. My thoughts I was often expressing anonymously in Facebook forums now were put into words, many many words in cars and busses, on long walks in our new home in Madison, and in rare and stolen nights when both kids fell asleep at a reasonable hour and we had the energy to grapple with our doctrinal questions. Despite my relief that we were now closer to the same page in our book of belief, I was sickened with the reality of what openly questioning and perhaps even leaving the Church would mean for us, for our friendships we had developed in Provo, for our families. Like Ash Mae wrote in her recent post, I have been Mormon my entire life, and had no idea what it would mean to raise a family and teach my children without the foundation of the gospel to build upon and settle on. I too had seen so many rainbows, despite the dark clouds surrounding me in my doubts and fear. And so, even after Tim confided in me his fresh crisis of faith, I kept trying to move my feet, to feel the beat... because it was so easy, and the words were so sweet. But eventually, I forgot the words to that song. The words that at one time came so easily and were so tender and thought-provoking now left me feeling empty at best and angry at worst--and now matter how hard I tried, no matter how many sacrament meetings I made myself sit through or conference talks I listened to, I could not remember.

And luckily, we found a new community and we have made new friends that have given us hope for raising our children in a religion that speaks to us. It's not so familiar and comfortable, but it inspires me on a weekly basis and leaves me feeling whole and renewed. I can see a light at the end of the tunnel in our faith transition, a light that felt far away two years ago but is rapidly approaching. We are working hard to reinstate rituals that were lost when we left the Church; dinner prayer has been replaced with holding hands and saying in unison: "we are thankful for being, we are thankful for being here, we are thankful for being here together," an affirmation of truths that warms my heart when I hear Atticus saying the words and look into the happiness in Tallulah's eyes because I know they both truly feel the connection we have developed as a family, a connection that does not need the hope of being together forever to bind us, because we have this perfect moment in time that will never be stolen from us. Our three-hour Sunday block has been replaced by dropping Atticus off with his religious education teachers who adore him (and the feeling is definitely mutual!) and leaving Tallulah with a couple of teenage babysitters who can't get enough of her in a bright and sunny room, while Tim and I have an entire hour to sit together, hold hands, and listen to the words of Michael, or Kelly, or Sara enrich our lives with their wisdom. Tithing has turned into charitable contributions, in addition to what we regularly give to FUS. Temple trips have been replaced with meditation retreats.

Although it's been hard, and there has been conflict, both in our marriage and in our relationships with others, we look back and are both extremely grateful we have been able to support each other through this transition rather than leaving one person to navigate the stormy waters alone. We made a difficult, but surprisingly refreshing, decision several months ago to have our names formally removed from the records of the LDS Church. We knew awhile ago we were most likely not coming back, despite the hope of friends and family. Hence, technically I'm not even Mormon anymore, and was surprised by how deeply saddened and hurt I was by the actions of Church authorities towards two individuals I see as inspiring doubting members to stay IN the Church, and are far from apostacy. I was deeply saddened, and then I was simply angry -- angry that women and men I knew and loved so deeply were in their homes, sitting on their couches, sobbing and wondering where on earth they belong, and what on earth the Church would have them do? They try so hard to be good and faithful, and yet they are rejected by their own leaders time and time again. They are not given a formal voice within the organization, their requests are not actively engaged with, and they try through small acts of defiance (wearing pants to church, calmly asking for admittance into a meeting they are barred from) to signal to Church leaders they aren't happy with the status quo and would like to see changes. And for these small acts of agitation, and for their vocalizing of grievances shared by thousands of faithful Saints, they are denounced and punished. They are square (or triangular, or hexagonal) pegs trying to fit into circle holes within their ward families, and realizing that they thought the circle thing was just a cultural phenomenon, and that the Church itself needed and wanted all shapes and sizes of Saints, but actually now are being told they really do just want the circles. And I guess I wrote this post to say that I get it, that I love them, and that I know they will make a decision that is right for their souls and their families (if they have them). I support the decision to remain LDS, as well as the decision to leave or take a step back. At this time, if you are questioning or a feminist or support marriage equality, both are difficult and have profound consequences. There is beauty to be found both within the Church and without, and I have no doubt these women will find it, grow it, and spread it throughout their communities, and wherever life may take them.

 

Tallulah, 17 months

Being in Morocco and all, we have kind of dropped the ball on Tallulah's updates. She is changing so rapidly that it is sometimes hard to keep track of what she likes and does not like, what will make her happy, and what will make her explode in rage. She is turning into a crazy and hilarious toddler, complete with all that comes with the domain: uncontrollable laughing, constant exploration and discovery, and fits of frustration or exhaustion.

She still loves to nurse, and does so no fewer than eight times a day. I have the milk supply of a mom with twins at 3 months. For a while she had little interest in eating real food, but in Morocco, I did not either so I can't blame her. Now, she is eating everything that is put in front of her, usually brats, sauerkraut, or noodles of some variety. She loves fruit as much as her older brother, and can devour blueberries, pineapple, strawberries, and (now) bananas (which she hated for a really long time). She never liked cereal until two days ago when she ate a whole bowl of muesli. She still isn't a big fan of crackers, but she'll eat dried fruit and nuts like a seasoned hiker.

She is obsessed with going outside, and whenever the door opens, she rushes to the stairs in anticipation, usually grabbing "her" sand bucket and shovel she leaves by it. She knows how to gather up her shoes and bring mom's hers as well. She can navigate play equipment meant for much older kids, and has taken up the climbing rope wall as her personal challenge, and made it to the top of one a few days ago when we weren't paying attention, but she was totally unfazed by how high she was. She is a climber... and a fearless one at that. She also loves swimming, and will go under the water and come back up with huge smiles. She may be our little fish. She would jump right off the edge of the pool constantly in Morocco, and it became so exhausting keeping her alive that we opted many times to take our cautious Atticus alone because he is so much easier to watch! (terrible, I know)

She wants to ride a bike SO desperately.

She is a lover of reading. It took her a little longer to get into books, and she still hates being read TO, but she loves picking up a book and exploring the pages on her own, and I'll often peek in the room and find her in this comfy chair with a book. Sometimes she'll babble along and make up her own stories. So cute.

She still does not have any consistent words (surprising), but she recently took up signing and can sign milk, more, food, baby, please, and outside. We actually recently (yesterday) decided to send her to preschool/daycare in the fall, and she'll be going a few days a week in the afternoons. We were really on the fence about this one because we want her to have as much stay-at-home time as Atticus, but on the other hand, it's (nearly) free with the tuition assistance from the university and it will give Tim a chance to focus on his writing, assembly chair duties, and applying for grad school (maybe) without putting undue stress on me. This semester will be a little bit crazy as I'm going to be submitting and defending my pre-dissertation proposal for my research, taking 5th semester Arabic, and two reading-intensive seminars. It's a small classroom with 8 kids and 2 teachers, they play outside a lot, and it's located really close to our house. I think she'll love it, and maybe it will help her language skills develop. We get three weeks to try it out in September, so we'll see how it goes, and if we feel comfortable with it.

Her favorite spot

Everything makes a great phone.

Eating chocolate croissant in our Fes kitchen

Her adorable gap-toothed smile has brightened many a strangers' day, and she is never hesitant to walk up to strangers and befriend them. I know this is the place to say how fast she is growing up and how I can't believe she is almost 1.5, but that's not actually true for me. She has so much personality she feels like she's been here forever, and sometimes I can't believe she's ONLY been with us a little over a year. Maybe because we've had so many changes and moves since her birth 17 months ago (four moves? two cross-country drives? almost two trans-Atlantic flights? two-week train trip through Western Europe? how many 17 months have such a tumultuous life?) I forget about the time before she existed. We love her a lot, and tell her often. Atticus says it best: "Lulah is my best friend," which he says often and I think really means it.

 

 

Why SAHMs are a problem

I've been thinking lately about the Sheryl Sandberg assertion that women don't become CEOs and senators and partners in big name law firms because they don't "lean in" enough to the system. They don't assert themselves enough at work, strive for the promotions and make their accomplishments known to their employers.

The Wall Street Journal published this article by Jody Greenstone Miller in response (there has been quite the debate), and it really illustrates my own thoughts on the issue. Women don't lean in because it requires them to sacrifice quality of life. The capitalist system of achievement is based on masculine concepts of success... making more money and being better than other people. There is little room for cooperation, collaboration, and quality of life issues. I don't know how many hours a week most business people work in order to enter the upper echelons of corporations, but after seeing my brother-in-law work himself sick at Bain a few years ago, I imagine it's a lot.

The problem is what we value. We value someone who is hard-working, so that must mean we value someone who works 100 hours a week over someone who works 30 hours a week. We don't value work that doesn't make money -- or work we don't value isn't lucrative -- it can go both ways. We devalue parenting, we pay teachers and librarians and hotel maids terribly, this plays out in so many ways. After divorces, women and children are much more likely to end up in poverty than the man in their lives. The whole way the system is structured is problematic. The system needs to be changed. But money talks. And we listen.

What this has to do with SAHMs: there was a comment on my friend's Facebook when she posted this article. The woman was talking about how yeah, she leans in to the system, but not in the way that Sandberg intends. She leans in by allowing her husband to take advantage of her reproductive labor and translate it into further success for himself (which she benefits from as well, though not in the same way). She made the point that her husband works, a lot, and he can because she is behind the scenes at home providing all the support: ironing his shirts, raising his tiny humans, cooking his meals, packing his lunch, (proofreading his business school applications). She lends this support, and in the case of highly intelligent and capable women, she can contribute a great deal to his success. By doing so, she is giving him an unfair advantage over those individuals who don't have a partner doing all that work: the women. His female colleagues who are also parents usually do not have this kind of 24/7 support. They lose out of promotions, on raises, on opportunities because they simply cannot be at work 50 or 60 hours a week (or more). I suppose some can, those who make significant amounts of money and have reliable childcare, but we give women the hard choice of raising their children or raising their salary. Men can work this much, and feel guilt-free, because that's our society's ideal of masculinity: work hard and bring home the bacon, don't worry, your wife can handle everything else. This aforementioned commenter talked about how her husband doesn't do anything to help at home, because "every 1.5 hours he spends cooking is 1.5 hours less he could be working to get that advantage to get that job to get that job security." It shouldn't have to be an either-or. Women are losing out, for sure, but men are too. They are losing out on being a part of their family, they are losing out on cooking a meal for their children and giving them baths at night and smelling their freshly shampooed little heads.

By emphasizing this division of bacon-bringing-home husband and stay-at-home wife, we are creating a false dichotomy of the traditional family that capitalism has told us is ideal, because it is pretty efficient to have men being able to dedicate their entire lives to this system. It makes a lot of money. But it doesn't contribute to quality of life, it doesn't allow women to enter into decision-making bodies and have their voices heard, and the solution of simply having women enter the masculine-idealized workforce and create a society where children never see their parents sucks too. We need women to lean in, sure, but what we really need is men to lean out a bit. And to her credit, I think Sandberg addresses that, when she talks about her husband sharing responsibilities in the home. But I think it goes beyond individual couples rearranging labor assignments in the home, though I do not think this is a bad thing. I think we need to accept that our system is broken and needs fixing. We need to acknowledge our own complicity in the brokenness.

 

 

Addendums: I acknowledge that a) this reeks of upper-middle-class privilege, and most working class people do not have these luxuries, both spouses work 40 hours a week to simply pay the bills (if their are even is a partnership intact), and b) that I have a husband at home that is performing reproductive labor so that I can go to school and isn't that just as bad? I argue that no, it's not. I'm taking on far less than many of my classmates, and I'm sure my male colleagues who also have children, because I didn't want Tim to take on all (or even most) of the household duties. I leave about 20 hours a week, and other than that, we are a pretty much staying at home family. I often cook, clean, and perform solo parent duty pretty often while Tim volunteers or writes (or fills out job applications, which is a recent task). And while at first I resented this because "hey I shouldn't have to be doing the dishes! that's an hour less I won't have to study!", I see now that this is exactly what I find problematic. And obviously, there is logic to this in some way because yeah, I have studying to do and papers to write, and Tim doesn't, but it definitely requires balance, which is what I think we have achieved this year (or are working slowly towards...)

 

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