It's hard for many here at dkos to get an understanding of the religious right. The mind set is quite different. Recently, I had a very bizarre conversation with a closet Democrat who hides her party affiliation to her fellow church members. Maybe my experience can give you some insight in how religion impacts political views.
Some might find my selecting Mother's Day to publish this diary to be bad timing. Christian churches will be honoring mothers everywhere today. That's a good thing, but it doesn't make up for the other 300 or so days of the year when they don't. This is a diary about a woman heavily involved in her faith and how it impacts how she sees herself in the world. After you read this, you might want to go hug a Mom.
This woman is a divorced mother of two and step mother of two more children. Her youngest is a teenager and her oldest is in her 40s. She has 6 grandchildren. She has a college degree, but due to multiple issues (some undiagnosed), she's never been able to gain and keep steady or well paid employment. Her exhusband is bi-polar and one of her children has an undiagnosed personality disorder. She's also a committed Evangelical Christian who doesn't have a filter. That said, she doesn't really get on your nerves. She takes the advice of Thumper's mom, "If you can't say something nice, then don't say anything at all".
Anyway, whatever you make of it, this is how the conversation went. I hope she has a lovely Mother's Day today and will be calling her later today. She needs a break.
She started out very matter-of-factly, but in a whisper despite our being alone, "I've never admitted this to anyone, but back then, I was a whore." The look on my face went to guarded and it made her go on quickly, "I really was."
My guard failed and I cringed, then asked, "Why would you ever call yourself a whore? It's not true." What I wanted to say, but didn't was, "So what if you were a whore? That just means you liked having sex and it was part of you healing from sex abuse." That, would have caused....problems.
"But it is true. All those years when I slept with a man because he was nice to me. Said nice things, did nice things for me. I just felt compelled to sleep with him".
I don't have the patience for this kind of Self flagellation. She's never healed her back story of being physically and emotionally abused as a child (possibly sexually abused too, but she won't ever say that - that would be too damning). None of it was her fault. The abuse as a child was born from living within a "godly" evangelical family that firmly believed if you spare the rod, you spoil the child and neither parent had any concept that it was a bad idea to provoke your child to wrath. Her father only praised her appearance (not that I ever heard him do so), he never praised her character or mind. Date rape for her occurred after some guy "slipped her a mickey", but we didn't call that kind of sex "rape". Guys who did that back then were called cads, not rapists. Poverty had a lot to do with her abduction and rape, had she had a working car and money for gas; she wouldn't have been walking to the grocery store for milk for her child. All this was 35-50 year old news. She was blaming herself again. Why unpack it and dwell on the shoulda, woulda, couldas again? For her, it's like an addiction. I said the wrong thing. "You know that's bullshit, right? You've been playing old movies in your head again."
"It's true!" I knew the signs, she was building up to a full righteous testimony of personal failure to be overcome by the power of Jesus, "All those years when I'd go out with my friends and drank too much. I'd meet a guy and if he was nice enough I'd sleep with him. It happened too many times! I was a whore!" She took a breath and bore herself up and fervently continued, "But, Jesus delivered me from that and I no longer need that fleeting love from a man. Now, God is enough for me."
She's always has been a bit dramatic. I suspect that she hears music in her head when she says these things. She gets kind of mad at me when I don't appreciate her dramatizations. You can't really argue with a religious zealot. From a zealot's point of view, she was damned without the redemption of Christ. It didn't matter if she slept with one man outside of marriage or a thousand. The "many men" of her narrative made for a more powerful witness. It was more dramatic. It made for a juicier testimony and a greater contrast when she proclaimed her salvation. It fed her new addiction of low, then high emotional responses. This is why I don't appreciate organized religion much. It feeds, but doesn't alleviate the needs of someone with personality disorders which I suspected was in play here.
We were silent for a few moments and this conversation was headed straight for awkward. Exasperating as her behavior is when she gets into these tailspins, I still care. I thought up and discarded several retorts as being unhelpful and finally said, "You're talking about who you were 40 years ago. I think it would be great if you could set those memories free. What brought this up?"
Plop goes the first shoe. "Oh, just yesterday's church service. Pastor Bill is upset that not all the teenagers took the purity pledge."
I should have known. I dropped the second shoe when I asked, "And, your son is one of them?"
She sighed, "Yes."
"And, you're afraid people will start to gossip about who is and is not on the list. You think people will call him a whore?" (As if that would ever happen.) I decided I wouldn't tell her about the conversation I had with her son a few weeks ago where he asked my opinion about a purity pledge. I told him that if he didn't take the pledge he'd be more likely to have a condom in his front pocket should Temptation jump in bed with him and taking the pledge probably wouldn't affect his behavior other than to not be prepared for safe sex should the opportunity arise (he smirked but never told me what he was going to do).
She sighed again, "No, I'm more concerned about what will be said about me." She looked up at me, but didn't meet my eyes," I know that's selfish and I've asked Jesus to take that away from me. I can't force my son to lie. I'm not forcing him to sign a pledge he clearly thinks is stupid." She fiddled with her phone, "Sister Mary, the church secretary always looks like she's sucking on a lemon when she talks to me. She's very legalistic in her faith and thinks I cheat the lord. I just love on her anyway. There's a lot of people at church like her husband, who talks to me like Dad did." My heart broke a little for her, but I could hear it coming. She straightened her shoulders and confessed, "Based upon my past, if the church knew about it, they would be right to call me a whore."
I'd make a lousy therapist, "Bullshit!" She was a bit surprised at my outburst. I raised my hand, "Ok, I get your concern, but who you were 40 years ago is far different than who you are now. If your church members start trash talking you because of this pledge, then maybe you need a different church. Do you talk about what happened to you when you were a kid at your church?"
She quickly retorted, "I love that church! They are very good to me. They have helped me over and over again. They've cleaned my house and cared for my son while I was in the hospital. They've kept the lights on when I was out of work. They do a lot for me." She got embarrassed and said, "No. I never talk about the bad things." She stopped, cocked her head, and continued, "Welllll, I talk around some of it. How my Dad used to be so unfair and how he would discipline in anger," which was a nice way of saying he once knocked her head into a wall. She shook her head, "I never talk about the sex stuff. The people at church would never understand. I mean, they would understand, but it would change how they look at me.... they aren't like you, matter-of-fact, move on. They would just. ..." She finished lamely, "It wouldn't go well."
Slut shaming. I fumed. I started to tap my fingers, frowned and got a grip. "Listen to me. When you were abused and raped, you did nothing wrong. The people who hurt you were the ones in the wrong. I get why you don't talk about the abuse or rape, because people blame you for it, but they. are. wrong. It would be great if you said that about yourself. What happened to you was not. your. fault. How you recovered from the abuse and rape was your responsibility, but you had bad advice and lousy therapy. You got through it. You're doing better."
She interrupted and hotly protested, "I've NEVER been to a therapist!" She was really indignant. She was agitated and got up and headed toward the coffee pot.
I paused, in an attempt to take the sting out of my words, I said, "I think that's my point. No therapy after those experiences was lousy therapy." She went to interrupt again, I shook my head, "You know, you dealt with how you felt by drinking and smoking pot. Shit happened. You stopped drinking and smoking mostly because you didn't have the money for it. You bumbled through. You changed. You've clung to your church and I respect that, but all the pastors you confided in started out with you praying to God to ask forgiveness for being in the right place for someone to abuse and rape you. Then, you had to leave every one of those pastors due to the aftermath of your confessions. That's lousy therapy. You never confronted the jerks who abused you. When do you forgive yourself? When do you get to stop punishing yourself? I don't get it. You sing praises of Jesus all day, every day. Thank him for his gifts to you, but you won't accept those gifts when it comes to being abused, raped and recovering from these things on your own. You beat yourself up by slut shaming yourself. What's the point? Either you're washed in the blood or it's into the fiery pit with you. It's not both at the same time."
Oh, dear, I got on a roll. By now, you might be wondering how we've been able to maintain a relationship for over 40 years. We grew up on the same town, went to the same schools had the same friends. She's a closet Democrat. As you may have gathered from my previous diaries, I'm quite openly liberal. My parents took me to church 2-4 times a week. I speak the lingo, know the rules. I keep the faith, but don't drink the kool-aid. Sometimes, I think she reaches out to me, because she knows I'll call bullshit when I see it.
You might be thinking she got mad with what I just said, but she laughed. "Thanks for the perspective. I don't think of it as beating myself up. It's more like just owning up to my past. It is what it is." She finished pouring herself a cup, "You want some coffee?"
I nodded yes to the coffee not the "it is what it is" bullshit, then shrugged, "You just stare those prigs down and if that's not enough, send them my way. I'll be happy to play a few rounds of Scriptural Bad-mitten with them. (One of the benefits of going to church 2-4 times a week for 20 years is I have a good grip on what's in the Bible and where to find it).
She brought me my cup of coffee. She smirked (she was probably thinking of my last bad-mitten session with Pastor Bill-he doesn't like me much, I make him squirm), "No, I don't think that will be necessary." She sat down and continued, "You're right. I'm washed in the blood and God delivered me from those afflictions." She stopped, looked at the ceiling and praised God and sang a short praise chorus that I don't know. Lucky for me, she has a sweet voice and good pitch.
That was weird. Faith is bemusing to a lot of people around here at Dkos. Having people burst out in a song of praise mid conversation is an every day thing among her church members, but it's weird. ...uncomfortably weird. I sat there watching her (she probably thought I was sharing in her praise), but I was thinking the song was a coping device for her. I mused how this spontaneous song is a symptom about how her evangelical church stimulates her emotional responses from the deepest despair followed by rapturous highs. The dynamics of Christianity inflicts so much unnecessary guilt, but this church encourages an emotional roller coaster with an emotional high that's better than pot. She fails to see, let alone respect her son's view that this church is full of hogwash. There are a lot of churches just like this one all over the world.
I always have wondered why the Christian church is so preoccupied with sex sins while the 7 deadly sins and the list of 6 in Proverbs doesn't mention sex, food or blended fabrics for that matter. Why get in a rage over physically loving someone, but let wicked schemers who've destroyed our economy get a pass? Why get in an unholy rage over homosexuality, but let corporations that poison our water skate free? And, how the right conflates homosexuality with pedophilia makes me sick. Actually, I know why Christians focus on sex sins, but don't agree with it. All I saw that day was a woman emotionally beaten by her family, life experiences and her church. She said she was free, but I saw invisible bindings.
I still go to church, but I don't go every week, get into the speaking of tongues or dancing in the spirit like happens in this woman's church. My reserved and somewhat egg-headed approach to the Bible has earned me lots of derision from Christian zealots over the years, apostate is the kindest untrue label, baby killer is one of the worst. My demand for respect is considered uncool for a woman in a Christian church. I won't tolerate a anyone berating me for what I believe, but the fact I won't allow a man to verbally abuse me is particularly egregious in many a Christian zealot's eye.
She finished her praise song and I told her it was beautiful, because although awkward, it was beautiful. I said, "You are a beautiful person. It would be great for you to believe that. Slut shaming and the word "whore" is so pejorative..... The more I think about it, ....so what if you were a whore? Oh, I get how the gossip about it would cause a tizzy at your church and that's the shame. No shame on you, the shame belongs on those prigs. Men screw 1,000 women and he's a ladies' man and welcomed into your congregation, but a woman who does the same is a whore and gets major doses of slut shaming and is only accepted into the flock when she hysterically proclaims Jesus saved her. That's flawed, screwball thinking. Reject it."
Of, course, she can't do that. "Well, the Bible says what it does and there's no getting around it. I'm a whore. I just wrap the blood of Jesus around me and praise him for his gifts." The doorbell rang and she got up to answer it. She kept talking as she went for the door, "I figured if Jesus could cast 7 demons out of Mary Magdalene, he could cure me of my curse that made me fall into men's bed's." She turned and beamed at me, "And he did!" My daughter, had she been there, would have remarked that I went to my "happy place" after that remark. I stirred my coffee, musing about how she's wrapped herself up into a self image of being a modern day Mary Magdalene and who knows if she used the accurate Biblical account or fictional persona.
She came back with her new visitor. She looked me in the eye and gave me the signal that she was a little on guard. In a sunny voice, "Sister Shannon from my church is here" and she steered the conversation in a safer direction for her.
At least she stopped calling herself a whore....for a while.