My Prejudice Against Fundamentalist Southern Baptists

For this year's GISHWHES, there was one item that stood out to me that I originally wanted nothing to do with:

My initial thought was "Oh, what a nice sentiment. I'll let someone with actual biases tackle that one." Throughout the week, I was disappointed to see that no one would claim it. In a small way, it actually frustrated me. I thought to myself, I won't overcome my prejudice against neo-nazis. Which is still true. I am prejudice towards anyone who outwardly aligns themselves with that group of people. However, I ended up taking this item anyway, and as I was brainstorming, I kept returning to one group of people: Fundamentalist Christians.

Perhaps this is strange to some of the people reading this. I was, after all, born in rural Arkansas. I attended a Southern Baptist church as a child and eventually was baptized in my grandparents' United Methodist church. I even spent the majority of my high school career volunteering for the church in every way that I could. But even then, I found myself deeply uncomfortable when I was in the same space as a Fundamentalist.

Note that I may make the mistake of interchanging "Fundamentalist" with "Southern Baptist". I realize that this is a gross misunderstanding of the term and it only proves my inherent biases.

My discomfort began at a very young age. I grew up in a family that was ideologically split between Christianity and Atheism. And although Atheism was the minority, even in my family, it manifested in the two people closest to me at that time: my mother and my uncle. My mom was quick to educate me on the importance of separation of church and state. She fostered empathy in me for people of other religions who might feel uncomfortable in a school like my own, where we prayed before every football game and had religious figures visit the school to give thinly-veiled sermons with some secular message attached to it. (It was very much "Don't drink alcohol and I'll see you at church on Wednesday, right?") As a kid struggling to find her religious space in the world, these things made ME uncomfortable. I often felt as though my identity didn't belong, not even because I was a different religion but just because of the fact that I had doubts at all!

And this is where the trouble really started. Because in my limited experience, Fundamentalist Christians have not given me the space to have doubt.

Then, I began attending a Southern Baptist church with my best friend. We went every Wednesday, although sometimes we would skip and hang out in the graveyard and tell ghost stories. (In retrospect, this was dangerous and disrespectful, but hey. I was an otherwise incredibly well-behaved kid, so sue me.)

I remember three key events which began to completely erode at my soul.

The first occurred when it was time for an annual youth event. I had never been to one and a lot of my friends were going, so I begged them to take me along. I remember very clearly telling them that I didn't have the money to pay for the event myself, and them sighing and saying that it was fine, the church could take care of it. It was their tone of voice that held the real sentiment, though: "You are a newer member and we could really care less whether or not you're there." This essentially set the tone for the rest of the trip. The youth leaders ignored me and made me feel extremely lonely in a room filled with hundreds of kids. And that was only the beginning. While most church events I've been to have been careful to steer clear of politics, and especially pushing one political agenda over another, this one was quite the opposite. There we are, a room filled with very young, very impressionable children as a man got up on stage and began ranting viciously about abortion. Even at that young age, I was informed enough to realize that the man was completely lying about the process and the intention of the women who undergo these procedures. I was disgusted. A room full of children was no place to be describing a completely false account of abortion, complete with graphic details, and present it as truth. Much less so was it the place to pawn his book about the topic afterward. It became very clear to me in that instant that my place was not with this church, and I immediately wanted to go home.

The second event came much later. This had little to do with me, but I still remember how nasty I felt just for being a part of it. A girl in my church - we'll call her Jill - had become pregnant. She was probably 16 at the time, and she went to my school so it was the major topic of discussion everywhere you turned. But if there was one place where Jill should have been able to find comfort and support, it was her family and her church. She found nothing but cold shoulders in these places. Jill's family forced her to stand in front of the congregation and apologize for her sins. I should probably take the time to add that they did NOT force the guy who helped to apologize. So after this initial humiliation and traumatizing level of shame placed on this young girl who was already scared and upset, you would think it blew over and things were okay, right? Wrong. Pretty soon after that, she showed up to the high school youth class, holding her baby and sitting in the back where she wouldn't disturb anyone. The youth directors took that as their cue to talk about the horrible sin of sex before marriage, how it would ruin your life, and how you would find yourself in eternal hellfire for it. I wish I could describe to you how uncomfortable it was in that room. I saw several heads turn just to stare at Jill. I didn't look at her - partially because I didn't want to be yet another voyeur, but also because I wouldn't want anyone to see me if I was sitting there, reliving my pain without even being able to defend myself. I left the class feeling gross, and really needing to apologize to her for what had happened, somehow feeling partially responsible. I didn't apologize, but I still kind of wish I had.

If you're struggling to understand why I even bothered staying after these two incidents, join the club. And yet, there is one more story to tell. I was in 8th or 9th grade this time; I know because it was right before I joined the Methodist church. I was in the van on my way home after church, and I was talking with the youth directors and my friends. We were discussing Saturday Night Live. It was a very casual conversation - we were simply talking about some of our favorite skits. I mentioned that I really liked Tina Fey and I thought she was hilarious, and my youth director got quiet for a moment. "I just don't like Tina Fey. She's all about them gays." I didn't know what to say to that. I was kind of shocked that he would even say that so casually. So I sat back and let the conversation drop. Somehow, even though this may have been the least egregious error that the church made, this was the final straw. LGBTQ+ intolerance was something that I had worked hard to fight my whole life, and the comment came at a time when I was best friends with two gay boys and girls of various sexual orientations. Unlike other minority groups that I hadn't really been exposed to, I knew a LOT about the struggle in this community and I had first-hand accounts of feelings of depression, thoughts of suicide, and perhaps most importantly, people feeling this way on account of their churches forcing them to.

If I remember correctly, that may have been the last Wednesday I ever attended that church. Perhaps I went for a few more weeks to try and stick with my friend, but I don't have any memories of that time if I did. I very quickly switched to my grandparents' church and found a much more loving and accepting atmosphere there.

Hopefully you can see how and why my prejudice began to form. I was conflating Fundamentalism with hardcore conservatism, bigotry, anti-intellectualism, and the Southern Baptist church. And while yes, many times, these things go hand in hand, they often do not.

Enter in my boyfriend's family. They are all very strict Southern Baptists. They go to a church with a pastor who has a voice that would immediately call to mind hog hunting and pickup trucks. He's the sort of man who could wear a ten gallon hat and you wouldn't bat n eyelash. And their church is the first Fundamentalist atmosphere I've willingly entered in over five years. I won't pretend like my anxiety isn't still there: I hold my breath through half the sermon waiting to hear hateful rhetoric. I sometimes imagine all the people in the room at a Trump rally, shouting with demented joy at the idea of putting Hillary Clinton in prison. But then I look at Jeremy and I realize that my generalizations ignore the most tangible evidence I actually have. Jeremy isn't a Trump supporter. He doesn't say hateful things. And his family, though they did support Trump, care much more about being kind and loving to their neighbors than they do about politics.

As a matter of fact, his family is filled with some of the kindest people I know, least of which are his incredible parents. And while I certainly disagree with them on many ideological points, they are also the exact opposite of the hateful people I found in the other church. They are by and large moral compasses who try to do the best they can with what they have.

That's not to dismiss some of the things they have ignored in their politics and their religion. You won't see Jeremy's family protesting on behalf of Black Americans. You won't see them post statuses about welfare inequality. But you'll see that they have a spot at the dinner table for whoever walks through their door, no matter what. You'll see that their latent prejudices stem from the culture they grew up in and not from any hatred in their hearts. And honestly, they are much nicer beings than many who DO claim to stand up for these issues.

It is this family that has made me realize just how backwards and nonsensical my prejudices are. They have made me understand that within a single denomination exist a wide variety of people and ideas. Ultimately, I am a better person for listening to them instead of immediately disregarding them as racists or idiots, which is what I might have done a few years ago.

So I do sincerely apologize to the Southern Baptists, the Fundamentalists, and all the other denominations of Christianity that get a bad rep. You are not one heterogeneous group, but rather an eclectic mix of people who happened to find a community with others who really like God.

Perhaps one day I will be able to go to a Southern Baptist church without feeling uncomfortable, but until then, I hope that this public apology is a step in the right direction.

An Unbiased Feminist's Look at Anita Sarkeesian

Let's talk about a woman almost everyone in today's age either loves or loathes: Anita Sarkeesian. Before I tell you what I think about her, there are a few things you should know about me.

1. I am a feminist.
2. I think there are lots of problems within the feminist movement.
3. I give everything the benefit of the doubt.

So, the feminist movement has become less of a political force and more of an internet meme, sadly. As many people who are truly recognizing the problems that women face, there are even more who call themselves feminist for publicity reasons, but who don't seem to carry those same principles throughout their career. (I love you, Beyonce, but I'm calling you out for this. You too, Taylor Swift.)

And let's be real: 'manspreading'? These are not the types of battles we should be fighting right now.

One thing I do as a feminist is really take all these different points of views into account. For example, the issue of manspreading. I think it definitely speaks to a deeply-ingrained sense of what women and men are supposed to embody, but I don't think every guy on the subway is trying to perpetuate these stereotypes, and I think attacking them for it it counterproductive.

With these things in mind, I finally decided to take a look at a woman who has polarized a lot of people on this issue. Anita Sarkeesian is a prominent feminist activist, and the face of Feminist Frequency, in which she provides a feminist analysis of elements of pop culture. I first started paying attention to her with the rise of GamerGate, where she is heavily advocating or more equal treatment of women in the world of video games.

And I heard a lot of stuff about her. I heard accusations that she is a "FemiNazi" (whatever that is), ignorant to the plights of other minorities, "man-hating", etc. And finally, I decided to look up her videos, where she was supposedly spewing her "man-hate" and encouraging all these destructive ideologies in other women.

And to be completely honest? I was expecting her to be exactly what these people were accusing her of. I expected her to be angry, make biased points and disregard problems within her argument, point out every little problem with everything, and basically ruin things that I really love. That's seriously what these comments about her had set me up to believe. So finally, when I saw her two-part series on The Hunger Games, I took a deep breath and waited for her to confirm my suspicions.

And then, something beautiful happened.

This woman is SMART. She may make a point here or there that I think is a bit unfair (most notably in her video in which she applies the Bechdel test to Oscar-nominated films), but this is usually followed by an explanation about why what she is trying to do is not a judgment on particular films/TV shows/etc. She points out tropes, and why they are problematic, but also why they might show how someone has tried to create a good female character.

Basically, she just exposes how differently women are treated, and she does it really well.

And suddenly, everything kind of makes sense. Suddenly, I understand why GamerGate is such a huge problem, because even I - a proud feminist and advocate for the cause - was beginning to question women who were guilty of nothing but being intelligent and loud.

In short: You're my hero, Anita. Thank you for continuing to be loud in a world that is telling you to be quiet.

Patricia Arquette + Political Correctness

Let's have some real talk, reader.

I got to a college that is known for being WAY too politically correct. Like, we had a school-wide debate over whether you can call something/someone crazy (ie. "You're skinny dipping in the duck pond? It's 41 degrees outside - that's crazy!") due to the term being ableist (adj. discrimination against disabled). THAT is the kind of lifestyle I am having to adapt to right now. And I'll say this much: it's not hard. It really isn't difficult to stop saying "That's so gay." or similar, derogatory terms. But let's briefly discuss political correctness.

The Two Most Important Lessons I Have Learned

This past August, my life changed. I don't remember exactly what made me sign up for the Greatest International Scavenger Hunt the World Has Ever Seen (GISHWHES), but I do remember being excited about it for months on end. I remember getting other people involved, and I remember going into the official GISHWHES chat room and making friends with every poor, unsuspecting soul in there. (And for the record; I made TONS of friends that way and it was possibly one of the coolest parts about GISHWHES.)

The big week finally rolled around, and it was insanity. Night after night, I slaved away. I did things I never expected to find myself doing (which is kind of the point). I cried tears of frustration over making a bikini out of tea bags. I build Big Ben out of the books in our library. I made a pad and tampon giraffe with Tatiana, and then we put the fabulous thing in many strange positions trying to get the perfect photo to send to Misha.

And then, I hugged so many people, helping to break a world record of hugs. I sent complements to people I'm not terribly close to over Twitter. I wrote a letter to a soldier. I did things that just made me happy. I got so many responses with the Twitter complements; people I never expected to have much to say about me came back and told me that I had inspired them in one way or another or even just retweeted it. And that was it. I didn't get revered as a saint, I didn't receive any kind of amazing kindness or miracle or anything like that. But I honestly brightened some days. Maybe not everyone cared, but at the very least, I was able to be honest with some people who I didn't get to talk to very much and I was able to make some people smile. That was the best feeling, and I was pumped all day because of it.

That's the lesson I learned. Well, one of two important lessons that kind of go together.

1) You create your own stories. So many times, we lead boring lives. We have dreams of changing the world, or doing the impossible, etc. These dreams come from an early age, possibly at a time before we understand how hard it is to be special in a world where everyone competes for it. But I learned something about being special: it doesn't just happen to you. You don't just wake up an extraordinary human being with all kinds of facets to your personality that make others envy you. The truth is; most of us are boring. But that's totally up to us. We have the power to try new things, to travel, to hone our talents into skills, to craft new things, to learn new things. We have the ability to be people we never thought we could be. With GISHWHES, I was told to throw myself out of my comfort zone and to try new things. In doing that, I learned to be brave and ultimately, to move the things you never thought yourself to be capable of to the TOP of your to-do list. It was the best lesson I could ever have learned, and months later, I'm still doing just that.

2) The best way to be happy is to make other people happy. I swear on my life, this is the only drug worth having. "Happiness" is such a fragile thing; it will often not come all at once and once it does, it's easy to lose. But it is infectious. It is lovely and wonderful. It's like having the essence of Christmas morning in you. And so many people don't understand how to make themselves feel that. But I found the way, or at least the way that works for me. Make other people happy. Practice radical hospitality. The best, most fulfilling moment of GISHWHES was easy for me to pick out: the Twitter complements. It was because with such a simple act, something that took hardly ten minutes, I brightened some days. I felt good about myself. I was totally happy. GISHWHES encourages you to do everything you can to help others and to be the person that people need around just to spread cheer and make things brighter. My personal quote that I constantly tell myself is to "be the sunshine in someone's life". And it's difficult. Sometimes the last thing I want to do is have a smile on my face, but doing that usually makes me feel better, and maybe it makes other people feel better, too. I don't know. I might never know if the things I do truly make a difference. But I know now, because of GISHWHES, that the only way to make a difference is to try.

As my personal hero, Andrew DuCote / (Speiling) Peter Pan would say: Keep Adventuring and Stay Not A Grown-Up!

- Erica Kriner

5 Reasons I Hate Being A Feminist

So, today my mother and I had a long discussion about feminism and rape culture and all those nice things. And the longer we talked, the more I realize that being a feminist is HARD, and definitely puts you in a very small minority. And I started to realize that I face a lot of problems being a feminist, both from a mental perspective and stemming from society in general. So here are 5 reasons that I hate being a feminist.

*Disclaimer: None of these make me any less willing to call myself a feminist. And honestly, they should make you as a reader MORE upset and willing to help the feminist cause. These are just basic issues I face when I label myself as such.

Ideas and Activism

Imagine it: An organization that houses the homeless, puts them through a job-training course and finds them work. Or, in another universe, an organization geared towards helping kids find their passion - something to keep them away from alcohol and drugs and other things that they often do in fits of boredom or when they reach low points. These are my dreams; my causes that I am passionate about. And I have many others, but I feel like my organization could contribute much to these particular issues.