I almost cringe to write this most polarizing of words: feminism. There seems to be no way to bring up that word or subject without dragging up lots of opinions with it. I looked it up in the dictionary and this is what it said: "the doctrine advocating social, political, and all other rights of women equal to those of men." Well, that doesn't sound so crazy.
I grew up in the 60s, where social change was all the rage. I remember seeing hippies in Atlanta, colorful and stinky. Some of them moved into an abandoned house near our home. They took to bathing naked in the Powder Springs creek, next to the city park. There was hippie power, black power, women's rights, civil rights, and Gloria Steinem. Sometimes the anger rose up and I saw it close. My Daddy worked at the Atlanta Postal Service. He was kind and friendly to everyone, no matter their color or creed....so he was called ugly names by some who were still stuck in Neanderthal mud. When a black girl in my second grade class was shot while walking along the railroad tracks in our town, Daddy took me to see her in the hospital. He taught us that we were all equal in God's eyes and that no one had the right to hurt another person, except in self defense. But mind you, he was no pushover about that. He said that if someone ever hit me at school, I was to fight back....even if that meant getting suspended. He was raised dirt poor, humble, cold and hungry, but I can't forget how he told me that the blacks in his town faired far worse. God had his hand on my Daddy, way back when... he was progressive in his kindness, discerning and good. He became a Christian when I was twelve years old. Even though he had always been tenderhearted, the Lord gave him a new soul. His love for my Mama and us grew. His devotion to God's Word and ways was fleshed out with profound gratefulness.
But back to feminism. I was reminded recently of that flaming word when a friend talked to me about the oppression of women in our society. I was frank with her and said that I didn't see it that way. Perhaps it's because of my good Daddy. He raised us like tomboys in the country, doing whatever work he happened to be doing. My whole childhood was full of playing softball and basketball in the front yard with him. He was our coach until high school, then continued to play and coach us from the sidelines, never missing a practice or game. In the middle of all that, I also knew that he loved us girls for being girls. He wasn't using us as surrogate boys. Mama said that when she was pregnant with each of us, he had an uncanny ability to get what he wanted: two girls, then a boy. I loved baby dolls, tea parties and dress-up, and I recall him squatting down and enjoying a cup with my dolls. In high school, when my sister and I were jocks and fully immersed in sports, he encouraged us to also embrace the contrast and joy of being a woman. He gave us hearts of fire, embellished with lace.
We were blessed to be raised by a man who believed that women were awesome and that we could do anything we set our minds to do. Within that culture, I came out with the attitude that I didn't have to live my life competing with men. I loved and admired men. That wasn't even on my radar screen. What I did see, observing the world changing and colliding, was that our society was beginning to show signs of crumbling from the inside out. Sure, there was progress with everyone's "rights" and new frontiers being opened up. There were no excuses as to why it took so long to bring protective legislation for black equality. Us women faced a brave, new world. Expectations changed and America changed. Some of that was wonderful, but much was destructive.
I was encouraged to learn computers, way back when it all started....counselors told me not to feed my artistic side or to delve into my English degree....but to find a career in business and computers. Money, money, money....career! You'll go far! What began to grow in my heart was considered Jurassic by some of my teachers and colleagues. In quiet moments, I saw babies, children's faces, not dollar signs or prestige. When pressed and dressed for work, in my secret thoughts all I could think of was changing the world. But not like my bosses or teachers thought I should. I saw a husband, a warm and beautiful home brimming with creativity. I saw boys named Jonathan, Daniel, Jesse and a girl named Elizabeth. People who weren't swimming with the lemmings. People who, if called upon, would lay down their life for what is right and good. An old, ancient siren song, simple really, harking back to what was before. And I, the simpleton. That was the road I took. Some of my friends who took other roads are now retiring, comfortable, accomplished. I've branched numerous careers off my home tree, with gleeful abandon (but also all sorts of stress).
There are paths that were plowed by both men and women that enable me to have the freedoms and opportunities that I enjoy today and for that I am grateful. But what I pray for, in our country, is that we will embrace the old paths, the good paths, that do not include bitterness and anger, oppression or evil. These need to be re-discovered and traversed. When men begin to value the things that my Daddy and Mama valued, and they begin to swim upstream against the river, defying the culture and taking back their families with love and courage....when women find purpose in what seems simple but turns out profound, in particular the hearts of their children, and we affirm rather than fight each other for preeminence.... maybe we can turn this place around.
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