Last week, rather belatedly, I stumbled on the Faith Feminisms project, women talking about the intersection of their faith and feminism. One particular post really resonated with me, basically about intersectionality and theology, Loving Eve and Ham.
My journey as a feminist and a Christian was also glacial, with a gradual blossoming, settling of ideas and logic. I suppose there have always been feminist influences in my life; my mother and so many other women I grew up around, though they would never self-identify that way – they just did what they thought was right; they made their choices around work and home with a confidence and self-possession that left a deep impression on me. Later, at my all-girls school, we were never explicitly taught about feminism, but we were encouraged to believe that we could do anything that any other girl-or boy – was capable of. Reading Maya Angelou as a young woman moved me in ways that I can only articulate now. And there are more, so many more interactions that have acted upon me at different moments in my life, distilling down gradually in my thought processes.
My journey of faith has been exactly that; moving across a landscape that was ever-changing, learning what to carry with me, what to question and what to set aside; growing in a relationship with God and my changing impressions of what that even means (!) Reading about the women in the Bible, named and unnamed, whose stories (sometimes surprising or shocking) are preserved there to be explored anew, was also a transformational experience. (So much more there than Proverbs 31 woman!)
But here we are. I’m a Christian. I’m a feminist. I’m still learning, but the intersection of faith and feminism is dynamic and constantly challenging. From the article:
“My feminism will always live at the intersection of race. It recognizes the Divine within all black women, all women of color, all women, all people. It doesn’t erase me from the Bible or make me the scourge of it. It proclaims the innate goodness of womanhood.
My feminism loves as hard as it fights. It basks in the glow of sisterhood. It nurtures relationships. It gives generously, protects fiercely, laughs freely, weeps courageously, dances with child-like abandon. Like shared wine and chocolate cheesecake with her best friends at midnight, it drinks deeply. It lives.”