Very recently, I applied to sit the supervised test to prove myself eligible for Mensa membership. That may appear to some a pompous thing to do, but for me, it was important. I passed the home test some years ago, but ever since I have long put off sitting the supervised test. Why? I am not entirely sure – I think that a part of me was afraid of failing it. My intellect is as much a part of my personal identity as my nationality or my hair colour, but one I am significantly more self-conscious about. I sometimes find it hard to acknowledge my own cognitive ability – I was taught for so long to downplay it so as not to make people uncomfortable. I often wonder if I would have been so encouraged, had I been born a boy. Certainly, as I got older, I came to realise that demonstrating superior intellectual prowess made boys uneasy, and the vapid hair-tossing, giggling Beverly Hills wannabe variety of teenage girl was what I was expected to aspire to. Think more Tori Spelling than Virginia Woolfe. That, combined with the fact that I was condemned to spend my school life unfulfilled and neglected, has significantly hindered my acknowledgement and nurturing of my brainpower.
As a child, I was always told I was bright. I was a bright girl, very clever. A real bright spark. This was usually accompanied by a pat on the head or a similarly affectionate but condescending gesture. Even as a little girl, I was made to feel like a dog that had just managed to sit on command. In retrospect, it was a bit more than that. I read my first words off the side of a doll box when I was two, and by the age of five I had memorised the precise distances between the planets of the solar system. I knew what a black hole was, and how it worked. I had a reading age comparable to someone in their mid-teens by the time I started school at the age of 4 or 5. I was obsessed with dinosaurs, and knew the difference between vertebrate and invertebrate creatures. I wasn’t “bright”, I was prodigiously intelligent. I’m not saying that to be obnoxious, that is an entirely toothless statement. What I am trying to express is that I was consistently taught to undervalue and neglect my intelligence, rather than nurture it for what it was.
When I started school, I was actually made to repeat my first year because I never paid attention. The teacher seemed to be under the impression that I couldn’t keep up with the curriculum, when in fact this couldn’t have been further from the truth.
I was bored out of my skull, and on top of this I was terribly afraid of my teacher. I developed a phobia of going to school, and I was scream and cry when my mother would wake me in the mornings to bring me. Eventually, my parents entered into a deal with the school whereby I was permitted to leave class earlier than normal that year, in exchange for repeating the class. My parents were desperate – by this point I was all but clinging to their legs in the morning, and this was all that would calm me – so they agreed. The results were disastrous. This decision all but ensured that I would spend the remainder of my school career constantly ahead of the curriculum, and bored out of my tiny mind. Within two years they were bringing in extra work from higher classes, just for me to have something to do – but by then, I was socially well-adjusted so they never remedied the situation by moving my forward.
Anyway – please bear with me, for this post does actually have a point besides lamenting how bored I was as a child.
For me, going to Mensa would be the beginning of a truly new existence. One where my intelligence is acknowledged and nurtured, rather than undermined and ignored. Part of my quest for identity, now that I have left the church, is figuring out just who I am, and trying to form associations with people I have a great deal in common with. I want to seek out the company of people who have something in common with me, be it intelligence, political worldview, (non)religious affiliation, interests, or personality type. I think everybody could benefit from doing this. My intellect, to me, is a talent, no more or less to be appreciated than the ability to sing or draw well. I want to love being who I am, and that involves recognising my individual qualities, and caring for them accordingly. I would like to think that this could encourage you to do the same, because if you are reading this you can be sure that it is no more than you deserve also.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Dogma is abuse
I had reason, recently, to deal with my old church group again, under the worst possible circumstance – the funeral of a very young woman who had died suddenly without prior medical problems. It was a heartbreaking service, and I personally was distraught at her death. I left the church, and the faith, with far more regard and affection for some who remained behind than others, and this particular woman was decidedly one of the former. She encapsulated all that I admire in a person – kind-hearted, generous, compassionate, funny, and optimistic. One of the major fallacies I see in the reason some people have given me for why I left the church, in that I must have been hurt by somebody and therefore be throwing the baby out with the bathwater - is that if a few measly “Christians” behaving badly and being hypocritical was enough to make me leave the church, people like this woman should have been enough to make me stay. She was, if you’ll forgive the cliché, an angel. I was honestly mad about her and I feel such a sense of sudden, violent loss that I scarcely know what to do with myself. It scares me a little, admittedly, that I now no longer have the certainty I once did pertaining to the afterlife. I hope, for my friends’ sake, that there is something after death, as the part of me that requires justice likes to think that there is something out there to reward her for being such a stellar example of a human being. However, she left behind two small boys and a husband, so I think there are some very pressing, practical things we left behind might do to pay homage to her memory.
As usual with this sort of thing, of course, it got me to thinking. It aroused some very conflicting feelings in me. The removal and funeral services were conducted by the church group to which we had both belonged, and naturally there was much reference made to my friend’s strong faith in Jesus, etc. etc. It made me very uncomfortable, and at first I couldn’t put my finger on why. I realised afterwards that I felt I was almost betraying my friend by not holding that faith which she understood to be of paramount importance. I felt almost that I should have been able to force myself to believe as she did, and that that is what she would have wanted. Because outside of that faith, there would be a barrier between us, limiting the depth of our friendship because I was no longer a “buhleeva” – I would be an outsider. And as we all know – or at least those of us who have been members of an evangelical/pentecostal church know – we are nothing without Jesus.
The way they spoke about it at the funeral – it was almost as if this faith was the single most positive, admirable aspect of my friend’s life and person. Her faith was what defined her, and it was presented as her main redeeming facet. The thing is, though, that it wasn’t. My friend was the best kind of human being, with or without Jesus (although I know she would have contended that herself). I listed just a few of her beautiful characteristics before. She had enough going for her sans Jesus to be worthy of our love and admiration. The fact that we now had different belief systems should never have been an issue. People – friends – differ on things all the time, without allowing it to form some cataclysmic rift between them. I think what I am trying to get at is that Christianity uses belief in Jesus Christ as a marker of your humanity, basically – it sorts the human race in all of its beauty and complexity into two very crude categories. Saved, and unsaved -those who are something (because they have Jesus), and those who are - literally – nothing (because they do not have Jesus). It’s that simple. The Bible frequently makes reference to our worthlessness and inherent evil without the intervention of the divine - in other words he who possess the ability to redeem us, and save us from our own depravity, our own thorough uselessness. Outside of the Almighty, we can do nothing. This was an integral part of church rhetoric when I was there – “without Jesus, I am nothing”, “I used to be *insert repulsive term here*, but then I got saved”, “without god, I’d be dead now”, “I could never have done this myself, it’s all god”, “Jesus saved my life, I couldn’t live without him”, “without Jesus my life would be meaningless/empty/without purpose”. I am guilty of saying these things myself, in the past. I have been thinking about it, more and more, and the more thought I give to it the more this particular aspect disturbs me greatly.
It encourages us, both as written in scripture and as used incessantly as a mantra within the group itself, to regard Jesus as our saviour and the source of all that is good in life, and ourselves as incapable of operating satisfactorily without clinging desperately to him. Without Jesus, life is empty and desolate. We might even die, and if we die without Jesus we will be abandoned forever – because without Jesus we cannot be acceptable to god. Even though, he made us to begin with. Even though he made us exactly to his will because he is omnipotent, and to a flawless design because he is omniscient, we disgust him without his son – who is actually himself – to defend our right to exist and be happy to him. There’s a headscratcher for you. I know people will make the argument of free will at this point, and I accept that some people use that free will to be fairly shitty specimens of human beings – but the fact is, not all do. My late friend is an example, and I hope I am too. Some people use that free will to make enormous sacrifices for their fellow man, and are compassionate and good and tolerant. I try to do and be these things myself, and I refuse to be held accountable for original sin. Original sin = bullshit. I am not Eve, so anyone who wants to hold me responsible for her listening to a talking snake, in a scenario that clearly never happened anyway, can fuck right off.
That’s right, fuck off. But only if you think I’m responsible for the actions of a mythical woman.
It makes me wonder what kept me buying this crap for so long. Since I’ve left the church, not only has my life not fallen apart, but I feel more self-sufficient and capable than ever before. My life is not empty and desperate, quite the contrary. I’m not saying I don’t face problems, but rather that refusing to rely for assistance on someone who regards me as inherently worthless has made me much stronger. I CAN do things for myself, I am a very capable woman. Sure, life is shit sometimes, but I’ll do my best, and when I can’t handle things alone there are plenty of non-deities around to help me in the form of friends and family.
But – I have a final point to make. Like I said, I wondered why I bought into this for so long when it’s so clearly a lie. But the more I consider it, the more the dynamic in this instance between “The Saviour” and “The Saved” bears a jarring resemblance to the dynamic between partners in a mentally and emotionally abusive relationship. I grew up within a highly abusive household – my mother was emotionally and mentally abusive towards myself, my father, and my brother. Quite a number of my friends have been involved in abusive relationships, and I have even read a number of testimonies of women who have escaped such relationships. So my experience of such covert abuse is pretty extensive, and now, looking on from the outside, I can see how my relationship with Jesus was like an extension of the worthlessness I was made to feel by my other abusive partner – in my case, my mother.
One of the questions most frequently asked of women – or indeed men – who have escaped abusive relationships is why they didn’t leave sooner. Why they failed to recognise the abuse for what it was immediately and up and leave. It seems so basic, so obvious, to someone looking in from the outside that anyone who makes you feel that way doesn’t deserve you. To the person on the receiving end of the abuse, though, it frequently isn’t obvious at all. Even for those who are abused physically, it often doesn’t begin that way overnight. The abusive partner will begin to gradually erode their victims’ self-esteem and self-reliance, so that when they begin to exert their control and manipulation in a more overt manner, the victim feels paralysed. They have often been isolated from outside influences and sources of support, people who may recognise the situation as abusive and encourage them to leave. They have been told they are worthless/fat/ugly/stupid/useless, and even that they “drive [the abuser] to it”, or that it’s for their own good. They have been given the impression that they cannot leave, either through direct threats of punishment (leave and I’ll kill you/I’ll take the children), or indirect threats (leave and you’ll fail/no-one will believe you/you won’t be able to manage). The victim of the abuse comes to develop a kind of domestic form of “Stockholm Syndrome”, where they engage cognitive dissonance to justify the abuser’s behaviour. They love their partner despite everything, and they do not want to accept that they need to sever ties with them. They are terrified of what will happen if they leave, and they don’t see the alternative, however unhappy they may be in their situation. They might even convince themselves that they are happy.
For me, the above paragraph has innumerable parallels to my relationship with the church/god. I was taught to distrust outside influences (the “world”), lest they corrupt me, so I was less susceptible to discerning real alternatives to the sheltered church life I was living. I was taught that I was nothing without god, I was inherently evil, and without god to redeem me I was little more than a filthy rag. To encourage this, I was taught to perceive my own natural functions – sexual urges being a prime example – as inherently “sinful” and “wrong”... rather than natural, which they actually were. I was taught that if I left I would go to hell (direct threat of punishment), and that my life would fall apart as I failed to manage without divine guidance (indirect threat). I came to love god sincerely, despite my doubts about his behaviour (Stockholm Syndrome/cognitive dissonance), and trust that he knew best, and it was for my own good, despite the fact that a part of me still felt it was nonsensical. Finally, I tried my best to stifle my doubts lest I “fall away”, and tried to convince myself that I was happy. Ultimately, I failed – thankfully – but it’s something to think about. The parallels do not reflect well on Christianity, or indeed on religious dogma as a whole.
As usual with this sort of thing, of course, it got me to thinking. It aroused some very conflicting feelings in me. The removal and funeral services were conducted by the church group to which we had both belonged, and naturally there was much reference made to my friend’s strong faith in Jesus, etc. etc. It made me very uncomfortable, and at first I couldn’t put my finger on why. I realised afterwards that I felt I was almost betraying my friend by not holding that faith which she understood to be of paramount importance. I felt almost that I should have been able to force myself to believe as she did, and that that is what she would have wanted. Because outside of that faith, there would be a barrier between us, limiting the depth of our friendship because I was no longer a “buhleeva” – I would be an outsider. And as we all know – or at least those of us who have been members of an evangelical/pentecostal church know – we are nothing without Jesus.
The way they spoke about it at the funeral – it was almost as if this faith was the single most positive, admirable aspect of my friend’s life and person. Her faith was what defined her, and it was presented as her main redeeming facet. The thing is, though, that it wasn’t. My friend was the best kind of human being, with or without Jesus (although I know she would have contended that herself). I listed just a few of her beautiful characteristics before. She had enough going for her sans Jesus to be worthy of our love and admiration. The fact that we now had different belief systems should never have been an issue. People – friends – differ on things all the time, without allowing it to form some cataclysmic rift between them. I think what I am trying to get at is that Christianity uses belief in Jesus Christ as a marker of your humanity, basically – it sorts the human race in all of its beauty and complexity into two very crude categories. Saved, and unsaved -those who are something (because they have Jesus), and those who are - literally – nothing (because they do not have Jesus). It’s that simple. The Bible frequently makes reference to our worthlessness and inherent evil without the intervention of the divine - in other words he who possess the ability to redeem us, and save us from our own depravity, our own thorough uselessness. Outside of the Almighty, we can do nothing. This was an integral part of church rhetoric when I was there – “without Jesus, I am nothing”, “I used to be *insert repulsive term here*, but then I got saved”, “without god, I’d be dead now”, “I could never have done this myself, it’s all god”, “Jesus saved my life, I couldn’t live without him”, “without Jesus my life would be meaningless/empty/without purpose”. I am guilty of saying these things myself, in the past. I have been thinking about it, more and more, and the more thought I give to it the more this particular aspect disturbs me greatly.
It encourages us, both as written in scripture and as used incessantly as a mantra within the group itself, to regard Jesus as our saviour and the source of all that is good in life, and ourselves as incapable of operating satisfactorily without clinging desperately to him. Without Jesus, life is empty and desolate. We might even die, and if we die without Jesus we will be abandoned forever – because without Jesus we cannot be acceptable to god. Even though, he made us to begin with. Even though he made us exactly to his will because he is omnipotent, and to a flawless design because he is omniscient, we disgust him without his son – who is actually himself – to defend our right to exist and be happy to him. There’s a headscratcher for you. I know people will make the argument of free will at this point, and I accept that some people use that free will to be fairly shitty specimens of human beings – but the fact is, not all do. My late friend is an example, and I hope I am too. Some people use that free will to make enormous sacrifices for their fellow man, and are compassionate and good and tolerant. I try to do and be these things myself, and I refuse to be held accountable for original sin. Original sin = bullshit. I am not Eve, so anyone who wants to hold me responsible for her listening to a talking snake, in a scenario that clearly never happened anyway, can fuck right off.
That’s right, fuck off. But only if you think I’m responsible for the actions of a mythical woman.
It makes me wonder what kept me buying this crap for so long. Since I’ve left the church, not only has my life not fallen apart, but I feel more self-sufficient and capable than ever before. My life is not empty and desperate, quite the contrary. I’m not saying I don’t face problems, but rather that refusing to rely for assistance on someone who regards me as inherently worthless has made me much stronger. I CAN do things for myself, I am a very capable woman. Sure, life is shit sometimes, but I’ll do my best, and when I can’t handle things alone there are plenty of non-deities around to help me in the form of friends and family.
But – I have a final point to make. Like I said, I wondered why I bought into this for so long when it’s so clearly a lie. But the more I consider it, the more the dynamic in this instance between “The Saviour” and “The Saved” bears a jarring resemblance to the dynamic between partners in a mentally and emotionally abusive relationship. I grew up within a highly abusive household – my mother was emotionally and mentally abusive towards myself, my father, and my brother. Quite a number of my friends have been involved in abusive relationships, and I have even read a number of testimonies of women who have escaped such relationships. So my experience of such covert abuse is pretty extensive, and now, looking on from the outside, I can see how my relationship with Jesus was like an extension of the worthlessness I was made to feel by my other abusive partner – in my case, my mother.
One of the questions most frequently asked of women – or indeed men – who have escaped abusive relationships is why they didn’t leave sooner. Why they failed to recognise the abuse for what it was immediately and up and leave. It seems so basic, so obvious, to someone looking in from the outside that anyone who makes you feel that way doesn’t deserve you. To the person on the receiving end of the abuse, though, it frequently isn’t obvious at all. Even for those who are abused physically, it often doesn’t begin that way overnight. The abusive partner will begin to gradually erode their victims’ self-esteem and self-reliance, so that when they begin to exert their control and manipulation in a more overt manner, the victim feels paralysed. They have often been isolated from outside influences and sources of support, people who may recognise the situation as abusive and encourage them to leave. They have been told they are worthless/fat/ugly/stupid/useless, and even that they “drive [the abuser] to it”, or that it’s for their own good. They have been given the impression that they cannot leave, either through direct threats of punishment (leave and I’ll kill you/I’ll take the children), or indirect threats (leave and you’ll fail/no-one will believe you/you won’t be able to manage). The victim of the abuse comes to develop a kind of domestic form of “Stockholm Syndrome”, where they engage cognitive dissonance to justify the abuser’s behaviour. They love their partner despite everything, and they do not want to accept that they need to sever ties with them. They are terrified of what will happen if they leave, and they don’t see the alternative, however unhappy they may be in their situation. They might even convince themselves that they are happy.
For me, the above paragraph has innumerable parallels to my relationship with the church/god. I was taught to distrust outside influences (the “world”), lest they corrupt me, so I was less susceptible to discerning real alternatives to the sheltered church life I was living. I was taught that I was nothing without god, I was inherently evil, and without god to redeem me I was little more than a filthy rag. To encourage this, I was taught to perceive my own natural functions – sexual urges being a prime example – as inherently “sinful” and “wrong”... rather than natural, which they actually were. I was taught that if I left I would go to hell (direct threat of punishment), and that my life would fall apart as I failed to manage without divine guidance (indirect threat). I came to love god sincerely, despite my doubts about his behaviour (Stockholm Syndrome/cognitive dissonance), and trust that he knew best, and it was for my own good, despite the fact that a part of me still felt it was nonsensical. Finally, I tried my best to stifle my doubts lest I “fall away”, and tried to convince myself that I was happy. Ultimately, I failed – thankfully – but it’s something to think about. The parallels do not reflect well on Christianity, or indeed on religious dogma as a whole.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
It's been a while... again.
Pregnancy.
I've been thinking about it again because I recently had my first full sexual experience. I reached all ten bases - or, however many there are in whatever system you use. I never could figure out that system, all I know is we went all the way!
And it was good. No - scratch that - it was awesome. The guy in question was fun, I felt comfortable with everything, and it was just right. It was the kind of first time you could really hope for. We stayed overnight in a cute guesthouse that was actually more like a boutique hotel, with the kind of baroque décor that really appeals to me, and we just spent the night experimenting, making love, and sleeping before heading down to a leisurely breakfast. We used condoms, of course, and many of them... so my chances of being pregnant now are fairly nonexistent, but I guess it was just an interesting contrast to my few experiences with sexual encounters I had with my ex-fiancé while still a Christian.
I remember at one point convincing myself - largely thanks to a guilty conscience - that I was pregnant after we "fell into sin" one time on holidays. How I managed to convince myself of this, in retrospect, I do not know, because I had my pants on the whole frigging time, but in my hysterical guilt afterwards I was determined that my fiancé's magical man-juice would manage to seep its' way through my pants and impregnate me anyway. By osmosis or something, don't ask me. I was hysterical anyway.
And I tormented myself with the guilt until my blessed period arrived. It's just incredible to think about, looking back, that the hypothetical judgement my fellow "buhleevas" would heap upon me in case of my pregnancy was enough to drive me close to suicide. I was so terrified, so ashamed of myself - the thought of walking into that church, all of them looking - knowing what I had done - facing them all with the tangible evidence of my sin as a literal bump in my form... It made me want to die, and I mean that in the most literal manner possible. I've never told anyone this, but before my period arrived that time, I actually tormented myself into experiencing phantom pregnancy symptoms. I started experiencing a lot of the symptoms of pregnancy as a sort of psychosomatic response to my overwhelming fear I was pregnant, which in turn reinforced my belief I was pregnant, which terrified me even more.
Now, I consider the possibility of my being pregnant - which is rather more likely now that I've actually had sex, you know... and I honestly don't feel anything like the shame or guilt. Sure, I don't want to be pregnant - now wouldn't be a great time for me, and I'm not sure how I'd handle it, but it definitely wouldn't drive me to abortion or suicide. Because you know what? What I do or have done with my body is nobody else's fucking business. I may not be the best potential mom that's ever existed, but should life throw me a lemon in the form of a baby I'm gonna make some damn good lemonade. And you can fuck right off with your tut-tutting and your sideways looks.
When I was still at church, I was led to believe for so long that sex was some life-changing experience. I was force-fed these pitifully poor analogies of sex as being like two pieces of paper being glued together - apparently, you can rip them apart, but pieces of them are still stuck to one another... *eyeroll* In other words, once you give "ze vagine" to someone (or indeed "ze asshole"), you are intrinsically linked to them on some psychological or even spiritual level, that you are not if you abstain from sexual activity with them. Well, ladies and gentlemen, I can now confirm to you that this is bullshit of the highest order. I, for one, feel absolutely no different as a person. Certainly not in any negative sense - I feel a bit more confident about my body now that I've exposed it fully to someone and gotten a thoroughly "firm" response (pun intended), but that's it. I like the guy in question, very much, but we could part ways in the morning and I would mourn it no more than any other breakup. I am in no way "bonded" to him like someone superglued us together, we did not "become one" - we just did the horizontal mambo, and it was very nice.
So, lads and lassies, the moral of the story is - sex is the dog's bollocks! Go for it.
I've been thinking about it again because I recently had my first full sexual experience. I reached all ten bases - or, however many there are in whatever system you use. I never could figure out that system, all I know is we went all the way!
And it was good. No - scratch that - it was awesome. The guy in question was fun, I felt comfortable with everything, and it was just right. It was the kind of first time you could really hope for. We stayed overnight in a cute guesthouse that was actually more like a boutique hotel, with the kind of baroque décor that really appeals to me, and we just spent the night experimenting, making love, and sleeping before heading down to a leisurely breakfast. We used condoms, of course, and many of them... so my chances of being pregnant now are fairly nonexistent, but I guess it was just an interesting contrast to my few experiences with sexual encounters I had with my ex-fiancé while still a Christian.
I remember at one point convincing myself - largely thanks to a guilty conscience - that I was pregnant after we "fell into sin" one time on holidays. How I managed to convince myself of this, in retrospect, I do not know, because I had my pants on the whole frigging time, but in my hysterical guilt afterwards I was determined that my fiancé's magical man-juice would manage to seep its' way through my pants and impregnate me anyway. By osmosis or something, don't ask me. I was hysterical anyway.
And I tormented myself with the guilt until my blessed period arrived. It's just incredible to think about, looking back, that the hypothetical judgement my fellow "buhleevas" would heap upon me in case of my pregnancy was enough to drive me close to suicide. I was so terrified, so ashamed of myself - the thought of walking into that church, all of them looking - knowing what I had done - facing them all with the tangible evidence of my sin as a literal bump in my form... It made me want to die, and I mean that in the most literal manner possible. I've never told anyone this, but before my period arrived that time, I actually tormented myself into experiencing phantom pregnancy symptoms. I started experiencing a lot of the symptoms of pregnancy as a sort of psychosomatic response to my overwhelming fear I was pregnant, which in turn reinforced my belief I was pregnant, which terrified me even more.
Now, I consider the possibility of my being pregnant - which is rather more likely now that I've actually had sex, you know... and I honestly don't feel anything like the shame or guilt. Sure, I don't want to be pregnant - now wouldn't be a great time for me, and I'm not sure how I'd handle it, but it definitely wouldn't drive me to abortion or suicide. Because you know what? What I do or have done with my body is nobody else's fucking business. I may not be the best potential mom that's ever existed, but should life throw me a lemon in the form of a baby I'm gonna make some damn good lemonade. And you can fuck right off with your tut-tutting and your sideways looks.
When I was still at church, I was led to believe for so long that sex was some life-changing experience. I was force-fed these pitifully poor analogies of sex as being like two pieces of paper being glued together - apparently, you can rip them apart, but pieces of them are still stuck to one another... *eyeroll* In other words, once you give "ze vagine" to someone (or indeed "ze asshole"), you are intrinsically linked to them on some psychological or even spiritual level, that you are not if you abstain from sexual activity with them. Well, ladies and gentlemen, I can now confirm to you that this is bullshit of the highest order. I, for one, feel absolutely no different as a person. Certainly not in any negative sense - I feel a bit more confident about my body now that I've exposed it fully to someone and gotten a thoroughly "firm" response (pun intended), but that's it. I like the guy in question, very much, but we could part ways in the morning and I would mourn it no more than any other breakup. I am in no way "bonded" to him like someone superglued us together, we did not "become one" - we just did the horizontal mambo, and it was very nice.
So, lads and lassies, the moral of the story is - sex is the dog's bollocks! Go for it.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Wife Spanking!
It's been a while.
It's been a while since I've felt that I have anything worthwhile to contribute to this blog. I guess it doesn't have a specific topic or coherent theme like some blogs do, so sometimes I wonder if it's too disjointed to really ever be worth reading. But the only people who currently read this know me well in any case, so perhaps that doesn't matter too much. It's not like I have a specific theme in mind every time I initiate conversation with people, and this is much the same.
I'm still adjusting to my newfound freedom from religion - every now and again I'll feel odd responding in certain ways to certain topics, because as a Christian I always felt that there were specific ways in which I was *expected* to respond, and now the freedom I have in expressing whatever actually pops into my mind is startling. I'm not used to such complete independence of thought. Even though my intellect never entirely abandoned me, and I always did give considerable thoughts to my position, it was never really from an initially objective stance, and I recognise now that if you explore a topic with a pre-formed religious stance, you can never really learn what you're supposed to. The way in which you process and interpret information is inescapably manipulated by your religious beliefs trying to defend themselves. You will find yourself subconsciously dismissing facts and perspectives which do not fit with your Christian or religious worldview, and very often you do all of this without even recognising it for what it is, it's such an insidious thing. I always felt I had to "defend" myself from opposing viewpoints, lest they actually convince me that my religious beliefs were unfounded, and now, it is so invigorating not to have to defend anything. I can just take on facts, statistics, viewpoints without prejudice or scorn, and just make what I will of them. I can believe, I can choose to accept or reject anything I want. I don't have to swallow anything unpalatable or disagreeable because some religious "leader" tells me it is a prerequisite element of the belief system I am supposed to belong to.
And man, was there a lot of that going on. I never could accept the writings of Paul, for example, on submission to be the word of God, or even right. I always thought he was full of shit, and now I can say it loud and proud! I am embracing the hairy-armpitted feminist hag within, hurrah!! And I love her, she's great, if a little bit new and scary. Feminism gets such a bad rap these days, but yanno what? It's just about fairness. As a rule, I love men. I love the broad shoulders, the forthrightness, their bemusement at the unfamiliar complexity of the female mind (this is all an example of a good man, naturally. Not all men are *good* men, I'm not naive about it) I know you can't generalise men as a category, any more than you can women, but honestly, I'm about as far from a misandrist as is humanly possible.
One of Newton's Laws of Motion states that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. While this law was intended to apply to physics and the natural world, I think it can, in ways, apply to philosophy and psychology. I'm not sure if I am using those terms in the proper context, so forgive me if I am not. What I mean is that I am inclined to counteract years of indoctrination and being subliminally taught a kind of disregard for myself as a woman, and for women in general, by going to extremes of furthering gender and sexual equality. I was taught for so long that men were in some way superior, or had some kind of moral authority given by the Judeo-Christian deity, that upon finding this to be a lie I feel myself obliged to discover the truth of the matter. I need to find out where these ideas came from, what are their true origins - now that I have eliminated divine will as the cause... *rolleyes* And looking in from the outside, religious - and specifically Christian - culture fascinates me in a kind of grotesque way that can only be compared to a particularly horrible car crash. You know it will give you nightmares, but somehow you can't keep yourself from looking. There are, naturally, varying levels of extremism in every denomination and while I do not wish to tar all of those who call themselves Christians with the same brush, the general outlook on gender roles within organised religion repulses me.
Take, for example, the concept of Christian Domestic Discipline - CDD, as it is affectionately known by those who put it into practice. Basically, the concept of a husband having the authority to spank his wife for the "4 D's" - disobedience, disrespect, dishonesty, or dangerous behaviour. Supposedly "serious offences" in a marriage, I simply love the ambiguity of the terms "disobedience" and "disrespect" in particular. So, basically, anything the husband cares to take a dislike to, then? Nice. It doesn't matter that this essentially gives someone free licence to inflict physical harm on another human being in as arbitrary a manner as they see fit, though, because apparently God will hold them responsible if they misuse their power. Oh, that's OK then. I will give my husband free rein to hit me all he likes, because a non-specific deity - the existence of whom I cannot be certain - is going to be mad at him in a life after death - the existence of which I cannot be certain either - if he takes it too far - the parameters of which are not made clear. I feel much better now. He can hit me, as long as he's not mean about it. And as long as he still respects me as his spiritual equal, while I'm bent over his knee.
http://www.christiandomesticdiscipline.com/home.html
Have a look. You're in for a real treat. It makes my ovaries positively tingle with indignation, let me tell you. I also love how they misconstrue entirely the philosophy, aims, and objectives of modern feminism in order to portray us as godless, hairy-armpitted lesbians who want nothing more than to strip you of your beloved morality and eat your babies. Sensationalist propaganda, anyone? Over here, plz. Kthxbai.
While I can appreciate that this is a rather extreme viewpoint, and that it would make even the average Christian squirm a little bit with embarassment - if it doesn't make you squirm, for the record, I suggest you seek the assistance of a mental health professional - it still gets me to thinking of the Biblical respresentation of women as a whole. No matter what way you choose to look at it, no matter how many "cultural context"-based arguments you can pose, the Bible is not the kindest piece of literature with regards to women. Or, indeed, the most accurate. The mere fact that it takes a greater effort of will - in my view - to integrate an acceptance of the Bible as the word of god with a balanced outlook on gender (or indeed pretty much anything), than it does to integrate it with an acceptance of wife spanking, would cause me to question the legitimacy of using the Bible as a kind of moral benchmark at all. If you have to work harder in terms of manipulating terminology and context in order to make it sound halfway fair or palatable, than you do to make it sound like the ravings of a demented, cave-dwelling misogynist... it's probably not worth using to guage your everyday behaviour. Just my two cents.
It's been a while since I've felt that I have anything worthwhile to contribute to this blog. I guess it doesn't have a specific topic or coherent theme like some blogs do, so sometimes I wonder if it's too disjointed to really ever be worth reading. But the only people who currently read this know me well in any case, so perhaps that doesn't matter too much. It's not like I have a specific theme in mind every time I initiate conversation with people, and this is much the same.
I'm still adjusting to my newfound freedom from religion - every now and again I'll feel odd responding in certain ways to certain topics, because as a Christian I always felt that there were specific ways in which I was *expected* to respond, and now the freedom I have in expressing whatever actually pops into my mind is startling. I'm not used to such complete independence of thought. Even though my intellect never entirely abandoned me, and I always did give considerable thoughts to my position, it was never really from an initially objective stance, and I recognise now that if you explore a topic with a pre-formed religious stance, you can never really learn what you're supposed to. The way in which you process and interpret information is inescapably manipulated by your religious beliefs trying to defend themselves. You will find yourself subconsciously dismissing facts and perspectives which do not fit with your Christian or religious worldview, and very often you do all of this without even recognising it for what it is, it's such an insidious thing. I always felt I had to "defend" myself from opposing viewpoints, lest they actually convince me that my religious beliefs were unfounded, and now, it is so invigorating not to have to defend anything. I can just take on facts, statistics, viewpoints without prejudice or scorn, and just make what I will of them. I can believe, I can choose to accept or reject anything I want. I don't have to swallow anything unpalatable or disagreeable because some religious "leader" tells me it is a prerequisite element of the belief system I am supposed to belong to.
And man, was there a lot of that going on. I never could accept the writings of Paul, for example, on submission to be the word of God, or even right. I always thought he was full of shit, and now I can say it loud and proud! I am embracing the hairy-armpitted feminist hag within, hurrah!! And I love her, she's great, if a little bit new and scary. Feminism gets such a bad rap these days, but yanno what? It's just about fairness. As a rule, I love men. I love the broad shoulders, the forthrightness, their bemusement at the unfamiliar complexity of the female mind (this is all an example of a good man, naturally. Not all men are *good* men, I'm not naive about it) I know you can't generalise men as a category, any more than you can women, but honestly, I'm about as far from a misandrist as is humanly possible.
One of Newton's Laws of Motion states that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. While this law was intended to apply to physics and the natural world, I think it can, in ways, apply to philosophy and psychology. I'm not sure if I am using those terms in the proper context, so forgive me if I am not. What I mean is that I am inclined to counteract years of indoctrination and being subliminally taught a kind of disregard for myself as a woman, and for women in general, by going to extremes of furthering gender and sexual equality. I was taught for so long that men were in some way superior, or had some kind of moral authority given by the Judeo-Christian deity, that upon finding this to be a lie I feel myself obliged to discover the truth of the matter. I need to find out where these ideas came from, what are their true origins - now that I have eliminated divine will as the cause... *rolleyes* And looking in from the outside, religious - and specifically Christian - culture fascinates me in a kind of grotesque way that can only be compared to a particularly horrible car crash. You know it will give you nightmares, but somehow you can't keep yourself from looking. There are, naturally, varying levels of extremism in every denomination and while I do not wish to tar all of those who call themselves Christians with the same brush, the general outlook on gender roles within organised religion repulses me.
Take, for example, the concept of Christian Domestic Discipline - CDD, as it is affectionately known by those who put it into practice. Basically, the concept of a husband having the authority to spank his wife for the "4 D's" - disobedience, disrespect, dishonesty, or dangerous behaviour. Supposedly "serious offences" in a marriage, I simply love the ambiguity of the terms "disobedience" and "disrespect" in particular. So, basically, anything the husband cares to take a dislike to, then? Nice. It doesn't matter that this essentially gives someone free licence to inflict physical harm on another human being in as arbitrary a manner as they see fit, though, because apparently God will hold them responsible if they misuse their power. Oh, that's OK then. I will give my husband free rein to hit me all he likes, because a non-specific deity - the existence of whom I cannot be certain - is going to be mad at him in a life after death - the existence of which I cannot be certain either - if he takes it too far - the parameters of which are not made clear. I feel much better now. He can hit me, as long as he's not mean about it. And as long as he still respects me as his spiritual equal, while I'm bent over his knee.
http://www.christiandomesticdiscipline.com/home.html
Have a look. You're in for a real treat. It makes my ovaries positively tingle with indignation, let me tell you. I also love how they misconstrue entirely the philosophy, aims, and objectives of modern feminism in order to portray us as godless, hairy-armpitted lesbians who want nothing more than to strip you of your beloved morality and eat your babies. Sensationalist propaganda, anyone? Over here, plz. Kthxbai.
While I can appreciate that this is a rather extreme viewpoint, and that it would make even the average Christian squirm a little bit with embarassment - if it doesn't make you squirm, for the record, I suggest you seek the assistance of a mental health professional - it still gets me to thinking of the Biblical respresentation of women as a whole. No matter what way you choose to look at it, no matter how many "cultural context"-based arguments you can pose, the Bible is not the kindest piece of literature with regards to women. Or, indeed, the most accurate. The mere fact that it takes a greater effort of will - in my view - to integrate an acceptance of the Bible as the word of god with a balanced outlook on gender (or indeed pretty much anything), than it does to integrate it with an acceptance of wife spanking, would cause me to question the legitimacy of using the Bible as a kind of moral benchmark at all. If you have to work harder in terms of manipulating terminology and context in order to make it sound halfway fair or palatable, than you do to make it sound like the ravings of a demented, cave-dwelling misogynist... it's probably not worth using to guage your everyday behaviour. Just my two cents.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Compatibility view is the secret!!
I was told that it's hard/impossible to post comments to my blog - I just checked there myself, to try to comment. As it transpires, I can comment once I set the page on "compatibility view", for pages designed for older web browsers... that appears to be the issue.
Hope that sorts it for anyone else :-D
Hope that sorts it for anyone else :-D
So... Rage.
Sometimes, I think rage is good. Sometimes, this country I live in incites me to rage. There are certain aspects of it that piss me the hell off, so please bear with me while I outline one (or more) of these.
Right - just last week, a 63-year-old man was given a 4 year sentence when convicted on 189 counts of sexual assault and rape. On children. By luring them into his garden shed over a period of 20 years, by a combination of bribery and blackmail. Linkies:
http://www.examiner.ie/ireland/sex-abuse-sentences-do-not-fit-crime-110770.html
One hundred and eighty nine counts. Four goddamn fucking years. According to the article, Judge Olive Buttimer said the offences constituted a "disastrous breach of trust" of children and that the "sexual abuse of children over a 20-year period is a most serious offence".
Yes, Olive Buttimer, clearly the sexual assault of children to you is so incredibly serious a crime that it warrants a sentence which in most nations would be considered more appropriate for serious traffic violations. Fucking marvellous. Well done, and it's nice to know that such worthy individuals are being selected for judicial service in this country. God almighty I want to break my keyboard over something to calm down. Is it bad that I find it even worse that a female judge is capable of such dumbassery? I don't know why I expect more understanding of the gravity of rape as a crime from women, but I do. Maybe that's just the idealist in me.
This rage is partly because this fiasco of a sentence is not even the exception, it's the rule. Here on the Isle of Saints and Scholars (fucking ironic), it is not unknown for judges to hand down suspended sentences to convicted rapists, allowing them to actually walk out of court that same day. It defies logic, it really does. As a woman of Ireland, it is so validating to know that the violation of my body and my dignity as a human being is of no value whatsoever in the legal system. I mean, I'm sure he didn't mean it. He couldn't help himself. I shouldn't have been walking around at night/ wearing a short skirt/ letting strangers fool me/ drinking alcohol (gasp!).
I would like to make it clear that I have, fortunately, never myself been a victim of this awful, vicious crime. I just consider this inherent lack of respect within the judiciary for women's rights an affront to half of the country's population.
Do you know what pisses me off the most? The fact that despite all of this, the government still has the front to lament the fact that less than 10% of all rapes are reported, or followed up to the point of achieving prosecution. Because - considering the psychological and physical trauma they have already undergone, the further trauma inflicted on them by the "justice" system in being cross-examined, and having to face their attacker in court, only to have him walk free that day because despite being found guilty, ruining your life is not considered serious enough to warrant jail time - it's hard to understand why women would be slow to report it. God yes, that's a real fucking headscratcher ain't it?
God if this country was a person, sometimes I'd love to string it up by the ankles. Most especially for continuously, inexplicably voting for Fianna Fáil, who have time and again proven themselves to be nothing more than a gamut of right-wing, corrupt, insincere gobshites no more capable of running a country than the badger named Stephen currently being touted for their replacement on FaceBook. Between allowing this kind of shit and the introduction of my beloved Blasphemy Law, it defies belief that they are still in power. I know that in Ireland I often feel like I'm voting for the best of a bad bunch, and honest, let alone inspiriational politicians are notoriously thin on the ground, but I think it's time for one hell of a shake-up within Irish governance. Fianna Fáil have become far too comfortable in the seat of power, it's time to put their collective fat asses out on the street where they belong.
Right - just last week, a 63-year-old man was given a 4 year sentence when convicted on 189 counts of sexual assault and rape. On children. By luring them into his garden shed over a period of 20 years, by a combination of bribery and blackmail. Linkies:
http://www.examiner.ie/ireland/sex-abuse-sentences-do-not-fit-crime-110770.html
One hundred and eighty nine counts. Four goddamn fucking years. According to the article, Judge Olive Buttimer said the offences constituted a "disastrous breach of trust" of children and that the "sexual abuse of children over a 20-year period is a most serious offence".
Yes, Olive Buttimer, clearly the sexual assault of children to you is so incredibly serious a crime that it warrants a sentence which in most nations would be considered more appropriate for serious traffic violations. Fucking marvellous. Well done, and it's nice to know that such worthy individuals are being selected for judicial service in this country. God almighty I want to break my keyboard over something to calm down. Is it bad that I find it even worse that a female judge is capable of such dumbassery? I don't know why I expect more understanding of the gravity of rape as a crime from women, but I do. Maybe that's just the idealist in me.
This rage is partly because this fiasco of a sentence is not even the exception, it's the rule. Here on the Isle of Saints and Scholars (fucking ironic), it is not unknown for judges to hand down suspended sentences to convicted rapists, allowing them to actually walk out of court that same day. It defies logic, it really does. As a woman of Ireland, it is so validating to know that the violation of my body and my dignity as a human being is of no value whatsoever in the legal system. I mean, I'm sure he didn't mean it. He couldn't help himself. I shouldn't have been walking around at night/ wearing a short skirt/ letting strangers fool me/ drinking alcohol (gasp!).
I would like to make it clear that I have, fortunately, never myself been a victim of this awful, vicious crime. I just consider this inherent lack of respect within the judiciary for women's rights an affront to half of the country's population.
Do you know what pisses me off the most? The fact that despite all of this, the government still has the front to lament the fact that less than 10% of all rapes are reported, or followed up to the point of achieving prosecution. Because - considering the psychological and physical trauma they have already undergone, the further trauma inflicted on them by the "justice" system in being cross-examined, and having to face their attacker in court, only to have him walk free that day because despite being found guilty, ruining your life is not considered serious enough to warrant jail time - it's hard to understand why women would be slow to report it. God yes, that's a real fucking headscratcher ain't it?
God if this country was a person, sometimes I'd love to string it up by the ankles. Most especially for continuously, inexplicably voting for Fianna Fáil, who have time and again proven themselves to be nothing more than a gamut of right-wing, corrupt, insincere gobshites no more capable of running a country than the badger named Stephen currently being touted for their replacement on FaceBook. Between allowing this kind of shit and the introduction of my beloved Blasphemy Law, it defies belief that they are still in power. I know that in Ireland I often feel like I'm voting for the best of a bad bunch, and honest, let alone inspiriational politicians are notoriously thin on the ground, but I think it's time for one hell of a shake-up within Irish governance. Fianna Fáil have become far too comfortable in the seat of power, it's time to put their collective fat asses out on the street where they belong.
Monday, January 25, 2010
A question of choice
Someone asked me recently if it was my time in Africa that made question my faith, and it got me thinking. I suppose that was a part of it, although I don’t know if it was the root cause of my questioning so much as a mere catalyst that kicked off a train of thought that would have taken place sooner or later anyway.
It’s relatively cliché, I think, to ask whether a loving, omnipotent god could really allow the amount of suffering we see in the world. I can understand people’s frustration in dealing with the seemingly boundless approaches that could be taken in answering that, but for me the issue goes deeper than simply querying whether god would allow it. It also raises the issue of free will, and choice.
Let me give you an example – Haiti has been in the news a lot over the past fortnight, what with the earthquake recovery effort and the enormous human suffering. But the people of Haiti were suffering long before the earthquake of almost a fortnight ago. I don’t say that to belittle the damage and pain that the earthquake has caused – but it is one of the world’s poorest countries, and like so many other developing nations, the people there struggle every single day with hunger, preventable disease, and crime. One of the documentaries I watched on Haiti talked about the issue of kidnapping, and how it has been such a problem in recent years. Largely, I would imagine, out of desperation, people turn to crime to make money – it’s not unique to developing countries, but in many cases it is more prevalent. Even in Malawi, I often found myself getting frustrated because as an obvious foreigner I felt constantly targeted by people who were after something, namely money., although luckily they were not so malicious as Haitian kidnappers.
Watching the documentary, I found myself so sickened by the levels of violence and brutality being employed by the kidnappers. I felt so angry, so disgusted with them, as I generally do when confronted with violence.
But for me, the thing is, it’s very easy to take the moral high ground. I have a good home, enough to eat, a solid education, and good friends. I’m not starving or immediately dying. Can the people I observe, whose families and lives are crumbling around them, whose incomes are non-existent, really be considered as having the same level of choice as I do? Their actions can still be considered universally bad or wrong, I suppose, but what about them, as people? We can only be considered responsible for that which we can reasonably control, and while we can always control our behaviour, we cannot always control the factors which dictate and drive it.
I guess what I’m really querying is whether it’s fair to hold to the same moral – normally religious – standard, those whose circumstances are wildly different? I guess you could argue that an omniscient god would judge each person individually based on their circumstances, but really when I examine any religious doctrine, it is by its’ very nature universal. Take stealing, for example. Universally wrong, but does a person whose family is starving really have the same amount of choice and concurring responsibility for their actions as someone who robs cardigans from TK Maxx? I don’t think so.
What also makes me question the validity of a universal moral code is the fact that, without a higher order (i.e. god), what do we base this system on? Human opinion varies wildly, and is popular consensus really reliable for dictating our behaviour? It can be influenced by so many variables. Adolf Hitler was one the most influential leaders of the 20th century, as was Josef Stalin. Both of them, particularly Hitler, manipulated the political and economic atmosphere of their time. Post-Versailles treaty Germany was an economic disaster zone, and Hitler used this to his advantage, and to further his own political agenda – he had the backing of the electorate. Their desperation fuelled his popularity, and adversely influenced their priorities, and their perception of morals.
I think, at the end of the day, it really is a question of priorities. There are certain pivotal things which are central to our survival – security, food, etc – and when these priorities are jeopardised, everything else (including moral codes) tend to suffer. As such, can those whose primary needs are jeopardised be judged according to the same criteria as those whose aren’t?
It’s relatively cliché, I think, to ask whether a loving, omnipotent god could really allow the amount of suffering we see in the world. I can understand people’s frustration in dealing with the seemingly boundless approaches that could be taken in answering that, but for me the issue goes deeper than simply querying whether god would allow it. It also raises the issue of free will, and choice.
Let me give you an example – Haiti has been in the news a lot over the past fortnight, what with the earthquake recovery effort and the enormous human suffering. But the people of Haiti were suffering long before the earthquake of almost a fortnight ago. I don’t say that to belittle the damage and pain that the earthquake has caused – but it is one of the world’s poorest countries, and like so many other developing nations, the people there struggle every single day with hunger, preventable disease, and crime. One of the documentaries I watched on Haiti talked about the issue of kidnapping, and how it has been such a problem in recent years. Largely, I would imagine, out of desperation, people turn to crime to make money – it’s not unique to developing countries, but in many cases it is more prevalent. Even in Malawi, I often found myself getting frustrated because as an obvious foreigner I felt constantly targeted by people who were after something, namely money., although luckily they were not so malicious as Haitian kidnappers.
Watching the documentary, I found myself so sickened by the levels of violence and brutality being employed by the kidnappers. I felt so angry, so disgusted with them, as I generally do when confronted with violence.
But for me, the thing is, it’s very easy to take the moral high ground. I have a good home, enough to eat, a solid education, and good friends. I’m not starving or immediately dying. Can the people I observe, whose families and lives are crumbling around them, whose incomes are non-existent, really be considered as having the same level of choice as I do? Their actions can still be considered universally bad or wrong, I suppose, but what about them, as people? We can only be considered responsible for that which we can reasonably control, and while we can always control our behaviour, we cannot always control the factors which dictate and drive it.
I guess what I’m really querying is whether it’s fair to hold to the same moral – normally religious – standard, those whose circumstances are wildly different? I guess you could argue that an omniscient god would judge each person individually based on their circumstances, but really when I examine any religious doctrine, it is by its’ very nature universal. Take stealing, for example. Universally wrong, but does a person whose family is starving really have the same amount of choice and concurring responsibility for their actions as someone who robs cardigans from TK Maxx? I don’t think so.
What also makes me question the validity of a universal moral code is the fact that, without a higher order (i.e. god), what do we base this system on? Human opinion varies wildly, and is popular consensus really reliable for dictating our behaviour? It can be influenced by so many variables. Adolf Hitler was one the most influential leaders of the 20th century, as was Josef Stalin. Both of them, particularly Hitler, manipulated the political and economic atmosphere of their time. Post-Versailles treaty Germany was an economic disaster zone, and Hitler used this to his advantage, and to further his own political agenda – he had the backing of the electorate. Their desperation fuelled his popularity, and adversely influenced their priorities, and their perception of morals.
I think, at the end of the day, it really is a question of priorities. There are certain pivotal things which are central to our survival – security, food, etc – and when these priorities are jeopardised, everything else (including moral codes) tend to suffer. As such, can those whose primary needs are jeopardised be judged according to the same criteria as those whose aren’t?
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