Day-Maker #35

My sister keeps a blog. A few days ago, she posted on entry titled, "Day Maker." Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery!

Day-Maker #34

Fresh, homemade wheat bread.

Feminism and the Church

Two of my favorite things, that I wish were in dialogue more often. Each brings such a knee-jerk reaction from the other, however, that dialogue proposes quite the challenge. I recently read two articles trying to bring them together in some form or fashion.

The first discusses John Paul II as the "feminist pope." The second offers a woman's perspective on being a Catholic feminist.

Neither quite coincides with my views on the subject. The first because, in spite of my intense love of JPII, I can't come to terms with a man defining Catholic feminism. I love it when men are feminists, but feminism and femininity need to be defined by women, just as masculinity should be defined by men.

As for the second article, I like her definition of a feminist as "someone who agitates change." Certainly that is true of JPII as a feminist pope. However, her demands of the world are negative : she tells the world and the Church to stop doing certain things. I also wish she had chosen to discuss common ground, rather than divisive issues such as pornography and abortion. I think that Catholics and traditional feminists can find ways to work together in areas such as domestic violence and the beauty culture.

She hits on some of this at the end, and maybe I'm just disappointed because she is struggling with the same questions as I am and so she can't give me answers. She does call for a positive feminism in the penultimate paragraph. Maybe she and I are simply journeying together.

"And Others"

Two or three days ago, we celebrated the feast of St. Charles Lwanga. He was martyred in Uganda during the early days of Christianity there. I found out during the homily that Charles Lwanga was one of 20-odd martyrs in Uganda. For a while now, I have been contemplating the beauty of martyrdom. We all have to die some day. Out of love for my Savior doesn't seem a bad way to go. In fact, it sanctifies death. (Of course, we are called to live sanctified lives as well, and that is a good and holy thing.)

Hearing the story of St. Charles Lwanga gave me a new perspective. Twenty-odd people died for their faith, were canonized, and have a feast day -- but they are 20-odd nameless people. How awesome is that? It fits right in with my desire to have an unnamed bench or icon or stained glass window. I don't like the "Donated by..." signs on religious items. Nameless saints have kind of the same feel as anonymous donations. Here is an example for others to live by -- no need for credit.

The Life of a Liberal Arts Major

I know I'm not the only one who feels this way:

(thanks, Incidental Comics, for understanding my life)

Modest Is Hottest!

I hate that phrase. But it's the best title I can think of for this post.

The past weekend, Ana came into town! She and I planned to go out on Percy's family's boat on day. In anticipation, I had a dire revelation the Thursday before she flew in : my swimsuit was wearing thin. No longer a good option to wear on a boat with my best friend, let alone anyone's parents.

So I braced myself and did something I hate. I went swimsuit shopping.

Unlike, say, toothpaste shopping, I do not find the options overwhelming, in spite of the many choices out there for swimsuits. Rather, I find that there are few to no swimsuits I would consider buying. Add budget constraints because I refuse to participate in our ridiculous vanity economy, and swimsuit shopping becomes nearly impossible.

I ended up with a cute top from a clearance rack and a full-price bottom -- a suit that covers considerably more than most other swimsuits out there. Modesty to me has always been a tricky question. I know girls who wear long skirts all the time to be modest, girls who would never be seen in shorts that came more than an inch above the knee, and girls whose shorts don't reach their fingertips. I know girls who wouldn't show their collarbone and girls who think a little cleavage is okay. My mother, whom I consider a paragon of virtue, approves of some bikinis.

For myself, I am still figuring out what is "modest" and "immodest." I know I draw a line in one place when looking at others and a lot more conservatively when considering what I wear. For example, I refused to buy a regular swimsuit bottom; instead I managed to hunt down a little skirt (the joy of my day!). However, I don't disapprove of them on other people. I just know where I feel comfortable and which parts of myself I am okay with other people seeing. Rules of modesty are in many ways culturally determined. Rules of what I wear are comfort determined.

That being said, the selection of swimsuits still shocks me. I don't think we're at the point where everything sold in the swim-wear section counts as modest. And I know we are not at the point where every girl in the market wants to expose herself that way. And yet it is somewhere between a scavenger hunt and a wild goose chase to find a swimsuit that I am comfortable hanging out in all day. Especially when there are boys and parents involved.

What I really want is a world where women and girls can look good without looking "hot." The reason I hate the phrase that is the title of this blog is because it still buys into the end goal that makes our feminine/beauty culture so messed up. If our goal is to look hot, it is by definition not modest, whether or not swimsuits are involved.

Esquire

After camping/biking in the mountains with Percy, I accomplished my actual goal of the weekend outing : attending my cousin's graduation from law school. As much as I want to call my lawyer cousin Vinny, he already has a pseudonym and shall henceforth and forevermore be known as Larry. Larry and I grew up two weeks apart age-wise and ten minutes apart distance-wise, so he is somewhere between a brother and a cousin. His mother and father were in town as well, along with his uncle from the other side.

The commencement activities were, in the grand scheme of things, commencement activities, and the behavior of the audience did not once impress me. However, I had a fantastic weekend because I got to spend it with family. When I first moved out to college, I did not realize quite what I was leaving behind. Now, I cherish every moment I get to spend with my family. I especially love spending time with the people who remind me why I turned out the way I did. I suppose it is natural that we all feel like outsiders in the world at some point or other, and I am blessed enough that with family my weirdness is normal. Even snarky, sarcastic weirdness, with a more than healthy dose of nerd thrown in.

In positive, congratulatory news, Larry got an award for completing 75 hours of pro bono work (lawyer volunteering) and his JD. Apparently, he can't be called esquire until he passes the bar though. Like the doctoral students here, he did have to give back the fancy robe and even the hood, which just is not right.