Uncategorized – Page 3 – Marianne Hales

The Republican Voter and Being Ok (or Not): a Response to the 2016 Presidential Election

A food staple when I was growing up in Arizona was a Mexican-ish dish with lots of beans and spices. We called it Wetback Special. Because this term was never used in any other context in my family, I was at least 17 before I realized it was a derogatory term for illegal immigrants (who were generally from Mexico). In fact, many of the adults in the extended family didn’t realize this either. My family, like the families of most voters, did not teach me to hate people because they were different. We were schooled in equality, love, and inclusion. But we also ate Wetback Special. As I struggle to understand why people I love and respect voted for a candidate who embraces discriminatory language, practices, and political groups I keep coming back to that story. And as I hear everyone talking about being ok or not being ok (now or in the future) I wonder how many of my smart, thoughtful Republican voter friends are currently eating Wetback Special for dinner?

frito-pie

When I reached out to people I respect to talk with them about their vote (try it! It’s fun to talk respectfully with people you disagree with), I found that much of their reasoning focused more on the idea of a Republican administration and less on the candidate himself. In fact, one Republican voter said that the Access Hollywood tapes were nearly a deal breaker for her, until she thought about what she hoped to be the effects of a Republican administration. I approached it from an entirely opposite angle: more about the candidate and less about the Republican/Democrat divide. The reason for this was threefold: 1) the sky has not fallen in these years with Democrats in the White House (speaking, of course, from my own limited perspective) 2) party affiliation, in and of itself, does not qualify a person to govern 3) the Republican candidate did not/does not represent what I would call Republican values. It wasn’t a choice between Republican or Democrat for me. It was a choice between a person espousing inflammatory policies and empowering the worst impulses of our society and a person who, to put it succinctly, knows how to behave in polite society.

The interesting thing I found in my research was that every Republican voter I talked with agreed that the Republican candidate’s behavior was poor. Nobody defended him, personally. One Republican voter even went so far as to say “he is me from 10 years ago so I know he can change.” He felt that this was a person who could change for the better in office. The Democrat? Not so much. I noted that those were some pretty ambitious therapy goals for a guy with a very busy schedule and, from all appearances, zero desire to change, but this Republican voter remained convinced that the mantle of the presidency would be enough to expunge the excesses of the campaign. One voter dismissed troubling behavior by noting that it was just another example of the bad parts of our society that were already there and accepted (which seems about as good of reasoning as choosing to eat dirt because Pica exists).

I didn’t go around asking people who they voted for (my research was with self-identified Republican voters) but I suspect that the people running around on November 9^th talking about being ok were this sort of voter. That’s how they could talk themselves into voting for someone so personally offensive. They felt it would be ok in the end. I can’t fault them for that entirely. Isn’t that how a lifelong Republican voter talks herself into voting for a Democrat? Where we differ is what things we felt were insurmountable.

And to make sense of that, I go back to the Wetback Special. The immediate universe I lived in as a child was a place where people didn’t call each other offensive names so I didn’t have personal knowledge of why that is harmful (though I certainly knew the concept in general terms). Is it possible that people could dismiss sexist and racist rhetoric not because their core beliefs are sexist and racist but because they do not viscerally understand the impact of what they know, generally, to be wrong? Are they so insulated from the effects of authoritarian men, sexual predators, and just plain crazy folks that it doesn’t seem like a big deal?

Even as I listened to my friends soften their candidate’s extreme positions and talk about the troubles they have seen with the Democratic administration, though, all I could think of was how these people that I love and trust listened to a man defend himself against rape allegations by saying the woman wasn’t pretty enough to rape and, by their actions in the voting booth, just shrugged their shoulders. That wasn’t media spin. That wasn’t 10 years ago. That wasn’t “out of context.” That was straight from his own lips. And the thought of people I trust being ok (in any way) with casual approval of sexual assault makes me feel unsafe. I don’t know how long it will be until that feeling subsides (or if it will). One Republican voter kept begging me to tell him what he could do to make me feel safe and (since he couldn’t—and probably wouldn’t—go back in time and change his vote) I had nothing for him. It’s like turning on the blender and then saying “How can I make this smoothie into a piece of fruit for you?” Maybe stop letting stuff like this go. Recognize that words have impact. And recognize the small and large ways that we do this stuff too (and then stop it).

fruit-smoothie

Some time ago, and with a bit of the necessary family drama, we stopped eating Wetback Special. We call it Mexican Haystacks now (due to its vague resemblance to another family favorite–a dish called Hawaiian Haystacks). And while it is still the same beans, spices, and corn chips, it tastes so much better. We can’t change the outcome of the 2016 presidential election. We can’t make the smoothie a piece of fruit again. But maybe we can stop eating Wetback Special.

[This opinion column was first published in The Southern Utah Independent on December 3, 2016: The Republican Voter and Being OK (or not)]

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A Straight Mormon talks about LGBTQ Families and Marriage Equality

** This column was originally published in The Southern Utah Independent on November 5, 2016. At the time, it felt like perhaps this was a little late to the discussion but less than a week later I’m not so sure about that.**

If you’ve known me for a while, you might have noticed that I don’t generally talk politics. And if you’ve known me for quite a while, you might have noticed that I especially avoid the hot topic of LGBTQ issues (the biggest one of late being LGBTQ families). The problem is that as a straight Mormon artist, I am continually between a rock and a hard place for these types of issues. I’m not conservative enough for my conservative friends, and I’m not liberal enough for my liberal friends. So I tend to choose the safety of silence.

This started to change with the struggles over the past few years in relation to marriage equality. Suddenly, so many people who never talked about S-E-X publicly were expending a great deal of energy talking about sexuality, and it became apparent that many of them had no more than a passing connection with anyone who openly identified themselves outside of the heterosexual box. As an artist, I have had the pleasure of working closely with people who are different from me in many ways, including sexual orientation. Finding our common humanity is one of the best parts about being an artist.

So when I see commercials like the one from not too long ago that featured a lesbian couple adopting a young girl out of the foster system, I cry in all the right places (I’m a sucker for a good commercial) and don’t think more of it. I was surprised, then, when a sister in my LDS ward cited that very commercial as an example of extremely offensive and destructive media. But … but … a kid who had no one now has two people who would walk over hot coals to keep her safe. What’s the downside here? Normalization of the concept of LGBTQ families?

But, friends, they are normal. And the sky is blue. And the emperor has no clothes.

I’m not arguing doctrine here. I’m not calling for sweeping changes to the LDS church or taking upon myself a stewardship for revelation that I have no claim to. I’m thinking about apostolic injunctions to love our LGBTQ brothers and sisters (regardless of their religious affiliation or lack thereof) and about the fact that we do not live in an exclusively LDS universe (even those of us living in Utah). We live with people who sometimes think differently than we do. Good gravy, friends. Even in an exclusively LDS universe we would live amongst people who sometimes think differently than we do. We aren’t all breathy blonde sopranos with Prop 8 signs on the front lawn (shout out to all of my wonderful friends who are sopranos or Californians or homeowners).

Can we not live and let live? People loving each other and taking care of each other will never hurt me, but contention and hatred and discrimination always will (even when I am not the one being discriminated against). This is a pretty simple case of doing unto others as you would have others do to you. We don’t have to dig too deeply to find a time when straight Mormons were considered aberrant and laws were enacted specifically in opposition to church doctrine. Perhaps many discount this time period because we’re grateful that our ancestors were oppressed enough to give up the doctrine of polygamy (I, for one, am eternally grateful that’s not one of the choices I have to make as a person of faith. Special thanks to Melissa Leilani Larsen for bringing that horrifying prospect to life in her terrifying play “Pilot Program”), but the fact remains that we ought to be able to muster up some empathy here. We ought to be able to say “I wouldn’t want anyone to say my family isn’t a family simply because my family doesn’t look exactly like theirs.”

pilot-program — Melissa Leilani Larsen’s play “Pilot Program” produced by Plan-B Theatre in Salt Lake City creates a show where a contemporary LDS couple is called to practice polygamy. In other words, it’s a horror show. Photo credit: Rick Pollock. Actors pictured: April Fossen, Mark Fossen, and Susanna Florence Risser. Used with permission.

This is the point in the conversation where I stop to take a breath and wonder why I didn’t just keep my big mouth shut. On the one hand will be people asking about the new policy about minors from LGBTQ families that are seeking baptism or about homosexual acts being considered a sin (and all of the ramifications of that). Friends, I don’t have answers for you on those things other than the one you hate to hear: I’m going on faith that there are answers I just haven’t found yet and history that has yet to be written. On the other hand will be people criticizing me for wavering from the conservative “party line” or citing these few lines of poetry: “vice is a monster of so frightful mien / As to be hated needs but to be seen; / Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, / We first endure, then pity, then embrace.” (That’s Alexander Pope, if you aren’t familiar.) Maybe I’ll get another call from my brother-in-law, concerned that I’m stirring up and confusing my nieces and nephews (sorry, guys, if I accidentally lead you to hell).

Set all of that aside for a few minutes and listen to this story about a local LGBTQ family’s experience with adoption from Radio West on KUER (warning: it might make you cry).

Know what it reminded me of? Every straight Mormon adoption story I’ve ever heard. Because we may have our differences, but one thing we can agree on is how beautiful it is when people who love each other form families.

jerry-rapier-kirk-bateman-family — Salt Lake City residents Kirt Bateman and Jerry Rapier with their son, Oscar.

Everyday Sexism, Uncategorized

Mansplaining the Temple at BYU’s Education Week

When my sister and I attended Brigham Young University’s Education Week this year, we weren’t expecting mansplaining and sexism to be part of the discussion. This is our third year, so we are still relative newbies. We didn’t realize that a class in 3220 WSC is a class with two overflow rooms (aka popular), so we ended up snaking through three different classrooms’ worth of line and landing in the large “audio only” overflow (overflow No. 2). The class, a thoughtful discussion of the temple, was still well worth the effort, so the next day we came two classes before the targeted class so we could be in the actual room with the speaker and slides. You have high expectations when you put in that much effort, but again, it was well worth it.

The speaker, Alonzo Gaskill, was a prime example of why you go to Education Week: He was thoughtful, faithful, incredibly well-read, and insightful. He was also wrong. Not capital W wrong. Not picket-the-Wilkinson-Center wrong. More of a “thanks for playing” kind of wrong.

byu_ernest_l-_wilkinson_student_center_building — BYU’s Wilkinson Center

He opened with an article he had read that quoted Mormon women about their misgivings about LDS temple services. I can’t remember if they were quoted anonymously, but in any case it was an article, not a kitchen-table discussion, and he couldn’t really directly address these specific women. After expressing regret that this was the case, he laid out an interpretation of the historical and doctrinal underpinnings of modern temple worship that he felt addressed their concerns. I have to award very genuine kudos for that. Too often, concerns like this are dismissed with the assumption that such expression is evidence of a lack of faith or of impending (or current) religious inactivity. Engaging in thoughtful dialogue is exactly what we need for these and other issues.

I’m simplifying this tremendously, but the basic idea that Brother Gaskill conveyed is that temple worship falls in line with the common metaphor that the church is the bride of Christ (see Ephesians 5:25, Revelation 21:2, and Matthew 25 for starters). In the endowment, according to Gaskill, women represent the church and men represent Christ. Because of this, all references to the subservience of women are really metaphors for all humanity’s (women’s and men’s) subservience to God. He also noted that having women veil their faces is symbolic of humanity’s need to rely on God (as well as further visual for the bride of Christ metaphor). He went into much more detail in the hour-long class (and has several books on the subject: “The Truth About Eden: Understanding the Fall and our Temple Experience,” “Temple Reflections: Insights into the House of the Lord,” and “Sacred Symbols: Finding Meaning in Rites, Rituals, and Ordinances”). It was fascinating. But his oft-repeated refrain bugged me: “The archetype erases all of the sexism.”

I appreciated his perspective. I was glad that he didn’t attend the temple and think “you are less than me” when looking across the room at his veiled sisters. His research and thoughtful consideration enriched my own temple worship. But erase all of the sexism? That it did not do.

First, it was a bit arrogant to presume that the way you’ve worked out an issue for yourself 100 percent addresses someone else’s concerns. In fact, it sounds a lot like mansplaining. I know he meant well, but please, Brother Gaskill, don’t mansplain the temple for me. Even just a little bit. Put forth your theories, sure. Continue the discussion. But don’t close the case without input from the people who raised the concerns in the first place. It reminds me of when I have a student turn in a paper with a note that their mentor/tutor has already told them that the paper was passing. Well, gosh, then I guess my opinion on the paper doesn’t really matter. I’m just the one in charge of actually evaluating it. The heart of mansplaining is setting yourself up as the expert on someone else’s thoughts and feelings. Any man, no matter how well researched, is not going to be the be-all-end-all expert on how a woman feels about the temple (which is not to say that a man isn’t welcome in the discussion).

It’s really a matter of how it is framed. Maybe instead of “The archetype erases all of the sexism,” you say “The archetype really helps me to overcome questions of sexism in temple imagery.” Second, even if you embrace the “bride of Christ” archetype, it doesn’t take a big leap to understand why people might find it sexist that men are always the ones in the god role in the endowment. Yes, Brother Gaskill pointed out that women take on that archetypal role in the initiatory ordinance, but while men take on the god role for men and women, women only take on that role for other women. That’s a bit of sexism the archetype doesn’t address.

Let me be clear: I am not in any way protesting the temple ceremonies. But I take exception to the idea that it would be illogical and inappropriate to raise issues of sexism in relation to temple worship. I was endowed nearly 22 years ago. I’ve been to the temple as a single person, a married person, and a divorced person. I was an ordinance worker, briefly, before my oldest child was born. I feel strong and empowered in the temple. As a temple worker, I thrilled in being authorized to perform ordinances with the power of God. As a temple patron, I draw strength from the peace found in the temple and from specific blessings received there. I feel like the universe opens up with my potential in these walls. But I also know that wording and presentation have impact. And I know that even with the best intentions, we can get things wrong.

provo_utah_temple_1 — The Provo, Utah LDS Temple; Photo:Ricardo630/CC BY-SA 2.5

Recently, I pointed out to a friend what I perceived to be sexist phrasing on a restaurant menu (and, to answer the inevitable question, yes, the discussion will someday be part of a piece for The Independent). Her response was “I’m sure they didn’t mean it that way.” Ever hopeful for humanity, I’m sure they didn’t consciously demean women on their menu, either. At some point, though, intent loses relevance. The reason we point out problematic phrasing regardless of intent is because we’re trying to root out cultural practices that are not in line with intent. Talking about the temple is different than talking about menus, because menus don’t include an element of revelation, but I don’t think it’s out of line to point out that whatever the metaphor, the optics leave something to be desired. So let’s keep chatting about that. But let’s also make sure that all voices in this discussion feel heard and respected. No more mansplaining, please.

[This essay appeared originally in The Independent on October 8, 2016: Mansplaining the Temple at BYU’s Education Week: Examining Charges of Sexism ]

Update: I emailed Bro. Gaskill this essay and he responded with one sentence–“You obviously didn’t listen closely enough.” I rest my case.

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Talking about Marriage at Church: Another Sucky Thing About Being Single and Mormon

I can’t think of a time when I have walked out of an LDS Sacrament Meeting. I have thanked my lucky stars for a well-timed bathroom request from my children. I have rewritten many a boring or offensive talk in my head (thank you, Elder Eyring’s dad for that sage advice). I have sought refuge in the smiles of nearby babies or discarded coloring books. But I haven’t ever just plain walked out. I wanted to this week but was prevented by the logistics of being the organist (the talk in question was the last talk of the meeting—perilously close to the closing hymn).

baby-at-church — Position yourself next to one of these in order to have a socially acceptable way to ignore the speaker.

Being a divorced person in a marriage-centric church means you have to develop a thick skin. There will be off-handed comments that push your buttons. There will be painful assumptions. There will be whole lessons that do not appear to directly apply to you. And I know divorced people aren’t the only people for whom this is true. The church is a group of imperfect people striving for perfection in an imperfect world (notice that’s two real life imperfects to one hypothetical perfect). Sometimes, though, it just goes a bit too far.

This Sunday we had a visiting High Councilor speaking on the stake assigned topic of marriage. That, in itself, is unremarkable. Mormons talk about marriage a lot. But having it be the sole topic of the main worship meeting (which is much harder to escape than, say, the Marriage & Family Relations class in Sunday School) where a segment of the congregation was not only unmarried but painfully unmarried seemed about as good an idea as a Father’s Day slide show at an orphanage.

It’s not that the concepts presented were irrelevant to my life. I interact with other humans all the time. I even live with a few. Ideas like prioritizing time to develop relationships with people you love are things that would clearly enrich my family. There was boilerplate comment at the beginning of one talk to that effect—I know you’re not all married but the principles have more broad application. Which is why, of course, the remainder of the talk focused entirely on the narrow application of these broad principles in a marriage setting. Because we single people are clever enough to generalize.

I was talking with my sister’s family recently and the discussion involved a female example of a general principle. My brother-in-law objected on the grounds that this wasn’t an all-female group having the discussion. I’m afraid I kind-of lost it. I have spent my entire life in a male-centric world, generalizing from male examples. Maybe, just for once, men could sit down and generalize from me. That’s part of what was beyond the pale with this talk. I am so tired of generalizing from traditional family/traditional marriage examples. Maybe, just this once, Molly Mormon and Peter Priesthood could listen to a story about a single mom and dig out the nugget that applies to them too. The boilerplate comment at the front of the talk didn’t make me feel like the speaker was truly inclusive and thoughtful. It just highlighted the fact that the bulk of the talk wasn’t. This is not to say that talk of marriage or examples from traditional family situations should not be used, but if the principles are truly applicable more broadly then why not make the entire talk more broadly inclusive?

delicate-flower — Women are delicate flowers?

Which brings us to the next issue: even within the narrow scope of marriage, the talks were still more exclusive than inclusive. The tone was quite patronizing towards women, setting up a world where women were, as one sister in the ward put it, “hot house flowers” and not equal participants in marriage (or, I imagine, life). It was not patriarchy’s finest hour. In fact, if patriarchy had a PR firm I imagine they were cringing in the corner thinking, “No! No! Didn’t you get the memo? We aren’t so blatantly dismissive of women’s contributions anymore! And we absolutely don’t pat women on the head anymore. Think, man! Think!”

The final straw was a flippant remark that I have heard before, but not over the pulpit. It was a suggestion that men should take their wives out regularly because “it’s cheaper to pay for a weekly date than to pay for alimony!” The principle is a good one—that we should allocate resources to nurture important relationships—but the presentation made light of a very painful situation. Thinking of my own journey to alimony, I sat on the front row with tears in my eyes, waiting to play the closing hymn. A few rows behind me another person dealing with divorce waited to say the closing prayer.

After the meeting I debated about cutting postlude short so I could catch the speakers and talk to them but decided against it. As I was dashing to get my children to class I passed them in the foyer and decided yet again against stopping. When I came across them a third time I decided this was perhaps a gentle nudge to speak up so I did. We spent a good chunk of Sunday School talking in the parking lot and I was struck by how caring they were and how concerned they were about giving offense. The intent to be thoughtful was 100% there. It just didn’t happen. I’m convinced that the disconnect sprung from lack of experience and empathy. Interestingly enough, the joke about alimony was one that the speaker had heard from the Stake President in one of their meetings and he honestly didn’t seem to realize that the tone, approach, and humor of a small group meeting of married men wouldn’t be the best thing to use in a large group meeting of men, women, and children of varied circumstances.

Later that day in Ward Council the subject came up again. The Bishop asked for suggestions for Sacrament Meeting topics and after a long, fruitless silence I said, “Could we take a break from the topic of marriage for a while? Today was kind-of brutal.” It was gratifying to find that I wasn’t alone in my perception of the talks, in particular about the flippant alimony comment. What struck me most about the whole experience, though, was how one thoughtless, offensive encounter led to two encounters that were the very definition of caring and nurturing. A moment of potential exclusion led to a greater feeling of inclusion.

How easy it would have been to walk away from that Sacrament Meeting filled with righteous indignation and not look any further (and write this column, of course). It was actually pretty uncomfortable to approach the speakers specifically and call them out on their remarks. But as we talked, I recognized myself in them. I thought of a poem I used to perform to great acclaim that I later realized was body-shaming and offensive (Bikini, for those of my readership who are long-time fans). I don’t perform that poem anymore. I’m rather ashamed that I wrote it. We can all be thoughtless. The real measure of a person is what we do next.

[Originally published in The Independent on September 10, 2016]