Thoughts on Feminism

When I was twenty an older woman I knew said, about me, that I would make a good wife for somebody. She didn’t say it to my face, but it was gleefully retold to me by a mutual acquaintance. It was not meant as a compliment. The implication was that I was weak, submissive, and had no leadership qualities. The woman who said it was a successful businesswoman and ran a matriarchal type household. She was definitely the one in charge of everything. At that time, I did want to get married, and I think I shrugged off the insult part of the comment without much trouble. I knew that I had different goals. And the woman who said it was not someone I wished to emulate. But the core of what she was trying to say was I was not a feminist and thus inferior. 

I want to talk about feminism. This is the definition I’m going to use, found on humanrightscareers.com

At its core, feminism is the belief that women deserve equal social, economic, and political rights and freedoms.

To give you a little background, my Grandmother Picazo went to college as a math major and had a lifetime career in Christian radio missions, my Grandmother Rigby was a nurse and a career missionary her entire life. My mother was a missionary, and then went back to school and became a Physician Assistant and worked in the medical field until her retirement. My mother-in-law has her doctorate, is an ordained minister and was a career missionary. 

I come from a long line of strong, educated, women. When I was growing up there was always an assumption that I would go to college and have some type of career. I honestly didn’t think about kids too much when I was young. Just assumed I’d probably have two, like my parents did, but it was not something I gave much thought to. I went to a christian university right after high school and studied music. And then I had a breakdown, struggled with panic attacks and anxiety, and decided, with the blessing of my parents, to take a break from school for a while. I went overseas, spent four months in Haiti and then six months in Chile. All the time, wondering what I was going to do with my life. 

During college, I made a vow to God that I was going to follow him wherever he led me. I asked him to be the one to choose my husband for me and I approached life with open hands, trusting that God would take me where he wanted me. 

I ended up getting married at twenty and then shortly after that my husband and I felt that God was asking us to trust him with our family size so we went off birthcontrol. 

Twenty-five years later, ten kids later, I am sitting here, thinking about feminism. 

I homeschooled my kids for somewhere between twelve and fifteen years, depending on how you count it. The homeschooling community is a very diverse place and I ran into all kinds of teachings and belief systems that had me scratching my head. One of the belief systems that I ran into was that feminism was bad. Women should be under the protection of their father or their husbands at all times and should be content living out their role in the home, leaving all decision making to the men in their lives. 

I disagree. And when I hear people bashing feminism, I want to remind them that without feminism, women would not be voting in the upcoming election. We wouldn’t be able to have our own bank accounts. We wouldn’t be able to own property. We would not have freedom to pursue higher education and fulfilling careers. We would be essentially enslaved to the men in our lives. I don’t think this is a just, safe way to live. We live in a sinful world, and while the idea of being raised by a gentle godly man as your father, and then marrying a perfect man who always takes care of you exactly the way you need, sounds good in theory, in reality there are girls being raised by abusive fathers and women trapped in marriages to abusive men. Without feminism, these women would have very little recourse to escape these situations. And that’s not even addressing the women who do not want to be married in the first place. 

I believe in freedom. I am a stay-at-home mom. I have been for twenty-four years. My husband and I have a very traditional marriage. We hold to the belief that he is the head of the house. I have ten children. We felt that God asked us to trust us with our family size and when we felt that we had reached that size, we took measures to not have any more children. I feel that I have been especially blessed to have the privilege to stay home and raise my children. But, here’s the thing. I chose to have this lifestyle. I believed that it was something God wanted and so I chose to obey that. It was not forced on me. I had choices. I could have chosen to not get married. I could have chosen to insist on our marriage looking different. I had a choice about whether I would have children or not and how many I would have. I chose to hand that over to God, but it was still a choice. Without choice, it’s slavery. And for those who see my lifestyle as obedience to God, I would say that without choice, it’s not really even obedience. Can a slave be rewarded for obedience when they had no choice in whether to obey or not? 

I have five daughters. I have tried very hard to let them know they have choices. And at the same time, let them know that following God is always going to lead to the most fulfilling life. 

I hope that my daughters look at me and see someone who chose to follow where God led, and as a result has lived a blessed, fulfilling life. And I hope that they look at the examples of their grandmothers and great grandmothers too and know that following God looks different for each person. 

Story Work

This past weekend I went on a Story Retreat with the Look Inside ministry (Look Inside). Five women came together at a beautiful retreat center and we explored our childhood stories that have had a big impact on whom we’ve become as adults. 

Today I was listening to Psalm 103, put to music. And it feels like that Psalm sums up my weekend.  It’s a long Psalm so I won’t put the whole thing here. Here’s a link, you can go read it real quick: Psalm 103 

As a father has compassion on his children,

    so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him;

for he knows how we are formed,

    he remembers that we are dust.

Psalm 103:13-14

I would say Compassion is what I have been feeling. God’s compassion on me, first of all just to open the door for me to attend the retreat. I hadn’t made any plans to go, but at the last moment, was offered a free, already paid spot. And my schedule was open. And my husband was willing to hold down the fort. 

I felt God’s compassion to put me in a safe place with women who listened, showed compassion and respect, and spoke healing words. 

I felt his Compassion as I soaked in the beautiful surroundings: the everchanging sky, majestic trees, green fields and hills. 

I felt his Compassion as I ate delicious food prepared by someone else, planned by someone else, a much-appreciated break for a mom of a large family. 

I felt his Compassion in the kind words spoken to me by the other women. 

And maybe one of the most wonderful ways he showed his Compassion was at the end of a long day as we had all dug into hard places and done some hard work as we waded through the mess…at the end of that day we were planning to do something fun to decompress and out on our balcony we saw the most amazing beautiful rainbow I have ever seen. From our viewpoint, we were right in the center of the rainbow and it perfectly arched over our view of the lake and the hills. And then, a double rainbow appeared, And THEN, the rainbow just kept getting brighter and brighter and brighter and it lasted a LONG time. And it felt like a blessing being spoken over us as we stood and watched the colors shimmering in the air. 

But from everlasting to everlasting

    the Lord’s love is with those who fear him,

    and his righteousness with their children’s children—

with those who keep his covenant

    and remember to obey his precepts.

Psalm 103: 17-18

I feel renewed. Refreshed. (Though I will qualify that, some of it is the refreshing you get after going to the dentist. It was painful, but necessary, and things feel a lot better afterwards!) 

I also kind of feel off-kilter, like the day after a funeral, but also, like the day after giving birth. Because really, that is what story work is about. Naming and mourning what was taken from you. And then walking into new hope as you learn how to step out of those dangerous mindsets that entrapped you so early, and step into a more truthful and healthier way of doing life. It was hard work and it was wholesome work and I feel the goodness of God for allowing me to do it. 

“Bless the LORD O my soul: and all that is within me bless his holy name.” Psalm 103:1 (KJV)

Happy Mother’s Day

I want to wish all the Moms out there a Happy Mother’s Day.

To the Moms of older children, thank you for sticking it out, putting in your time in the trenches. You are a hero.

To the Moms with little children…This is the hardest time. Be encouraged. You can do it. It is going to get easier!

To the Moms who are raising children they didn’t give birth to, you are amazing. Your heart for your children is an inspiration to all of us.

To the Women who think they aren’t Moms, but who go around mothering all the children that enter their lives. You are so important. Raising up the next generation is a community project, and your role is vital.

And to my Mom…Thank you. Thank you for all the sleepless nights you put in. Thank you for sitting with me at bedtime when I was afraid of the dark. Thank you for letting me pour soy sauce all over your amazing cooking because I was too picky to enjoy it the way it was. Thank you for buying me chocolate whistles at the grocery store. Thank you for always having a tissue in your purse when I needed one. Thank you for letting me stay up late reading books. Thank you for turning a blind eye when I came home covered in mud. Thank you for french braiding my hair. Thank you for sharing your Cadbury’s chocolate bar with me. Thank you for making me a pizza with nothing on it because that was the way I liked it. Thank you for all the times you didn’t give me advice, just gave me a long hug instead. Thank you for paying for piano lessons, and not saying a word when I played the same piece over and over and over and over and over again. Thank you for giggling with me over the silliest things. Thank you for continuing to make my birthday special every year. Thank you for teaching me about prayer. Thank you for your hugs. Thank you for being my Mom. I love you.