A few days ago, a stroke of happenstance bade me watch the premiere of a TLC show, “Geek Love.” The premise, of course, is insight into the stories of several hopefuls at the New York Comic Con speed dating session. It’s worth watching, if only as an example of the type of person you should never become.

Now, let me make something clear straight off: I think it’s good and fine that people are fans of Star Wars, super heroes, Star Trek, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, etc. (Obviously I think that, as I like some of those things very much.) But as hard-core nerds are wont to do, they go beyond merely liking something. They progress past that line to a point where their “fandom” negatively affects their relationships with others.

Take 30-year-old J.C., who was featured in episode two. He made it clear that if a girl isn’t interested in Star Wars, he isn’t interested in her. Furthermore, he mentioned that his love of Star Wars and incessant collecting of Star Wars Lego had cost him relationships in the past. For him, “Star Wars is not just a movie, but a way of life.” (Whatever that means.) He hasn’t the perspective to recognize how desperately sad that is.

Why is it sad? Because Star Wars can never love him back. He’s pouring time, money and affection into what? A series. A work of fiction. These things capture our hearts, yes, but to fashion them into the crux of a life by which serious decisions are made is dreadfully wrong.

When the advice, then, is to dial back the obsession, nerds get indignant. They say, “why should I have to deny who I am just to be accepted?”

I want to ask a question based on the implications of that statement. Is “who you are” a Star Wars fan?

I mean to say, are you a Star Wars fan at your core and nothing else? If your identity as a Star Wars fan were taken away somehow, would you be a mere husk of a being? If you had been born in 1908 and died in 1973, would you have been a wandering, slobbering nobody because your reason for existing had not been produced yet?

(Replace “Star Wars” with any applicable fandom for the purposes of this whole entry.)

A person who answers “yes” to these things may be beyond hope. Never mind existing to find love or to end poverty or to be a great father. No, Star Wars is apparently their reason, compass and goal. They have power and resources to do some good in the world, but instead they accumulate themed Lego.

If I sound bitter, it’s because I am so sorry that people have come to this. Their fandom consumes their life and they give it over willingly. Their interests become so narrow that to find someone who understands what on earth they’re talking about is rare—a grim state for a race wired for connection.

J.C. ultimately paired up with 22-year-old Allison, who’s as big a fan as he is. When asked what she was looking for in a man, she replied, “He has to be alive and he has to be a guy.” I doubt it’s just me who can think of some pretty sleazy characters who’d fit that bill. To be fair, I’m sure she’d put on some additional qualifiers if pressed. Still, that kind of mindset allows for some serious lapses in judgment. Would she settle for a spineless, whiny, violent shrew of a man because no one else would have her? If desperation doesn’t catalyze or maintain relationships with men like that, I don’t know what does.

The heart of the issue is that nerds are marginalized for a reason.

These people don’t seem to understand the concept of what it means to grow up. It means that what was appropriate at 17 years old isn’t appropriate anymore at 35 years old. Recall Sal from “Geek Love,” proudly mentioning that he works at Game Stop. This may be admirable if he were seventeen, but he isn’t. When a high school kid works at a video game store, it’s actually rather easy to be optimistic about their future. After all, they have the skills and initiative to have a job at all (rather than simply accepting guilty paternal handouts), and that bodes well. When Sal says he works at a video game store, what he’s really declaring is that he’s found a way to continue marring his life at a discount price. There is nothing admirable about him working a teenager’s job.

Yet, his match, Mary, deemed it “awesome.” But I guess that’s the thing with these nerds. When you only care about hooking up your Star Wars obsession with someone else’s, things like being well-rounded and gainfully employed are traits that a person can’t wait around for. Beggars can’t be choosers.

It’s true that dating is hard for anyone, but it does appear to be doubly hard for these people. The best reason I can think of to explain that is: having a relationship is something that adults do, but these people have little interest in leading adult lives. Making Wookie noises at every opportunity (or, any opportunity) is childish behaviour. Amassing giant Harry Potter cut-outs is childish behaviour. Take your pick out of all that stuff: Collecting figurines; Lego obsessions; playing dress-up; it’s all stuff that kids do. I know it’s natural to denounce people with my outlook by saying, “Well, we’re adults, and we can do what we want.” Yet I say that everyone should know by now that just because an adult can, doesn’t mean an adult should.

For example, what child doesn’t promise to themselves that when they grow up, they’ll eat nothing but candy and donuts? No one will stop them. And indeed, they’d be free to do so once they move out. Some probably even try it for a while before realizing that mom and dad weren’t so wrong about eating corn and potatoes. The all-candy diet eventually causes them harm and they know it. The people on this show seem to have stopped short of realizing that their persistence in acting like a child despite being an adult is causing them harm.

In terms of geek dating, I’m happy to profess that there is another way. As I mentioned earlier, it’s okay to like things. It’s also okay to not like all the same things as your boyfriend/girlfriend. Doesn’t it just make sense that basing a relationship on deeper issues like intrinsic chemistry, like-minded worldviews, wanting children (or not wanting them), love and admiration of one another, etc, has a far rosier forecast than, “we both love Star Wars?” The thing is, if someone is in love with you because of who you are, that’s a powerful thing and it carries at least some clout. I had a mild fancy for Lord of the Rings, but overall thought Tolkien was dry, boring and long-winded. Tom liked it more than I did, and through talking to him and listening with him, I have a whole new appreciation for it. For me, it’s been far better to be “taught” things by him (did you know that Gandalf isn’t a human?) than it would have been to just discuss it, both of us already knowing it all. I wouldn’t have gone there on my own; I gave it a closer look because I know him, and love him, and want to connect with him through things we like.

Which is to say: find a girl who loves you for you (not your fandom) whom you love for her (not her fandom.) Then show her Star Wars. She may be interested in your insights and come to like it as you do. Or, she may remain cold to it. In that case, take it as a reminder that Star Wars is just a series and is not important enough to drive you from your true love, the girl. The girl, because she does love you back (and Star Wars never will).

In the last few months, I’ve heard some discourse on the negative messages that Disney movies send to kids. Not that I don’t feel strongly about the media that children are exposed to, but I think (in the case of Disney movies) that people need to relax.

These negative “Disney messages” are things like,

• “Cinderella teaches kids that marriage solves everything.”
• “The Little Mermaid teaches kids that it’s fine to drastically change one’s body to attract a lover.”
• “Beauty and the Beast teaches kids that domestic violence is acceptable.”

They make me mad because, for one, kids don’t think this way. And, two, that isn’t what these movies are teaching at all.

I was raised on Disney movies and other similar cartoons. My favourites were Cinderella, the Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, and the Lion King— the former four featuring some of the most prominent Disney Princesses: Cinderella, Ariel, Belle, and Jasmine. Now, I loved these characters. I used to run around in my back yard “singing like Ariel” until my mom asked if I could “sing like Ariel” just a bit quieter, please. I’d draw Princess Jasmine over and over during class because I loved making that curl at the end of her ponytail.

And yet, I understood that these were not real people and that their circumstances were not mine. And although I don’t think I was an unintelligent child, I didn’t connect “Disney messages” with my own life or self very often. I can only think of one instance, when I was probably about four years old. I remember asking my parents if I’d get married soon. They seemed to wonder a bit at where that question came from, and said that no, I wouldn’t be getting married very soon. I said, “Oh, because Ariel got married.” And they replied, “Well, she grew up a bit first.” That answer satisfied me completely. On my own, I didn’t understand implicitly that Ariel and I were not quite at the same stage in life. But then I decided that my parents were right— Ariel did grow up first. Sixteen years old sounded ancient. I was half an eternity away from being sixteen years old.

All that to say, kids deconstruct and understand movies much differently than adults do. But by the time I was sixteen, I wasn’t prepping for marriage just because Ariel was married at my age. My parents knew this would be the case, otherwise I imagine that they would have mentioned back then that even sixteen years old is too young to be married. Why didn’t they?

Because kids don’t grow up in a Disney vacuum. Yes, these themes are unrealistic at times (”and they lived happily ever after”) and some would be detrimental if they were the only message that kids ever received. But they aren’t. Not by a long shot. By age ten, most kids have witnessed either their parents, or the parents of someone they know, get divorced. Most kids will have encountered a woman who definitely does not look like a beautiful princess enjoying a very happy life and marriage. A girl may wake up and feel shocked and betrayed because her life after marriage is just as imperfect as her life before marriage, but that girl has more to blame for this than the fact that she watched Cinderella as a kid.

And that’s what it is, isn’t it? Something to blame for spotty parenting. It’s as if people think that once a movie is watched, a child’s initial gleanings and impressions can’t be changed. Well, they can. And it requires having a conversation with a child after watching the film, not sitting them down in front of the TV and then getting angry when aspects of a story hit too close to home.

People who complain that Disney movies send messages that will one day mar the lives of children are bad at interpreting stories. They take unimportant elements and make them into the crux of the plot.

“Cinderella teaches that marriage solves everything.”

Watch Cinderella again. It’s the story of a girl who gets dealt a bad hand in life. When her father dies, her step-mother and step-sisters are cruel to her and force her to be their servant. Despite her undesirable circumstances, Cinderella does not become bitter and vindictive. (There’s a good message for the kids.) She serves her awful family patiently and kindly for years. And though it would be instinctive to some to be cruel to those she does have power over, (the mice and birds) she goes out of her way to take care of them. Even making them clothes! One day, a letter decrees that all eligible maidens are to attend a royal ball. It’s Cinderella’s step-mother and step-sisters who immediately latch on to the idea of marrying the prince, not Cinderella herself. She just wants to go to the ball because she’s absolutely been invited, and who wouldn’t want to go to the classiest event ever thrown in that kingdom? Those obnoxious women, though, sabotage her so that it appears that she will not be able to attend. But lo, a Fairy Godmother appears to help Cinderella. (What goes around comes around— another message for the kids.) She arrives at the ball and isn’t even interested in meeting the royalty. She’s just admiring the castle when the Prince asks her to dance. She accepts, but she doesn’t know that he’s the Prince. She couldn’t care less about “The Prince,” really. She uses meeting him merely as an excuse for leaving this wonderful man at midnight. The glass slipper is left and the owner searched for the next morning (after a bit more jealous sabotage from the step-mother) but ultimately, Cinderella is able to produce the shoe’s twin. She marries that man she fell in love with despite not knowing about his power or money (which, to me, makes her the only lady present at that ball who the Prince could have married in good faith.)

Marriage is an epilogue in Cinderella’s story, not some deus ex machina plot twist that saves her from her plight. Her own goodness saved her. (You don’t see her terrible sisters getting Fairy Godmothers.) If my kids grow up thinking that being kind in the face of cruelty will serve them, then good.

“The Little Mermaid teaches kids that it’s fine to drastically change one’s body to attract a lover (and fine to disobey a parent!).”

Watch The Little Mermaid again. It’s the story of a girl who is different from everyone around her. Instead of being enveloped in the frivolity her family’s existence (i.e. music concerts), she’s captivated by the world of humans. It’s something in her that will never go away. Her dad is naturally resistant, but out of love. Hers is a dangerous obsession. And yet, Ariel can see what none of her kind can: that not all humans are dangerous. King Triton is racist. He says, “Know him? I don’t have to know him. They’re all the same.”

Ariel loves her dad, but recognizes that he’s wrong. Disobeying him means doing what she has to in order to pursue her love: making a deal that gives her the ability to live on land. This involves a body change because you can’t live on land with a tail fin— it isn’t about plastic surgery to make herself more beautiful than before in hopes that Eric would love her more. Eric’s love for her began when she rescued him as a mermaid. Ariel obeying her father and staying a mermaid would have gone against the very thing that made her special. Sebastian sums it up perfectly as he comes to terms with Ariel’s new situation: “Maybe there’s still time. If we could get that witch to give you back your voice, you could go home with all the normal fish and just be… miserable for the rest of your life.” At the end of the story, Ariel’s own dad is the one who returns her to human form after she’s turned back into a mermaid when Ursula’s allotted three days are done. And her final words in the film are very telling: “I love you, daddy.” Her sisters are all waving to her above the surface of the water, implying a new harmony between mermaids and humans that wouldn’t have existed if not for Ariel and her being different.

As an aside, Ariel may be sixteen on the day of her wedding, but Juliet Capulet is even younger when she secretly marries Romeo the day after first meeting him. You don’t hear about parents requesting their children be removed from tenth grade English class to shield them from that story.

“Beauty and the Beast teaches kids that domestic violence is acceptable.”

No. Watch Beauty and the Beast again. The Beast was a despairing and violent creature when he captured Belle’s father and held him prisoner for trespassing. Belle comes searching and pledges to take her father’s place as the Beast’s prisoner— forever. This gives the Beast true pause, and it is the first of many times that he shows signs of his cold heart changing. But Belle doesn’t make this sacrifice because she thinks she may one day grow to love the Beast. She does it because she loves her dad. (Right now, this is not a love story between beast and beauty.) The Beast agrees to this trade and gives her but one single rule: not to enter the west wing. Later that same evening, Belle is too curious to resist. She shakes off Cogsworth and Lumière and walks directly into the forbidden section of the castle. The Beast is (understandably) angry when he discovers her there. What about Belle’s actions suggest she’s accepting of violence, I wonder? She is so afraid of the Beast’s anger that she goes back on the promise she made mere hours ago and runs off. In the woods, Belle is attacked by wolves and the Beast saves her, only to then collapse in pain and exhaustion. Belle has to make a choice, because she has an opportunity in that moment to leave him and continue running away. Instead, she returns with the Beast to the castle, willingly. It is at this part of the movie that the love story actually begins and, note, the violence between Belle and the Beast vanishes.

I think Beauty and the Beast actually offers a very practical lesson: If you want someone gentle to love you, you can’t act like a selfish, irrational, crude animal.

So, here’s something. Go back and watch Disney movies now as an adult. You experience them differently. And know that, while these films were being made, no man was behind the scenes twirling his mustache and plotting that kids would one day base their expectations for life, love, and marriage on these stories. People just wanted to take some old fairy tales and make them real for new generations.

Above all, if you think something is sending unhelpful messages to kids, then talk to the kids about it.

en tout cas c’est clair— c’est toi

I feel encouraged and happy. The past few weeks have been ones of satisfying learning and that fires me up quick as anything.

I feel fortunate to the point of joy overflowing, particularly due to several experiences and conversations I’ve had lately. They all seem to fall into line with one another and that affirms me.

The first thing is that I’ve now got a clearer image in my head of the type of lady I want to be for Tom. A chat with Cheryl last weekend helped me gain that. We talked about how we don’t want to be that girl who says she’s fine when she’s actually very troubled about something. She said it’s alright to say, “I’m not fine, but I still need time to think— let’s talk about it later.” I really like that because it’s honest. I want to be honest with Tom about everything. It sounds so simple and obvious. Yet, I think something happens naturally (particularly with women) in which we are compelled to say, “everything’s fine” until we’re able to correctly articulate what’s really not fine. (These feelings are often complex and do need to be thought about.) Instead of misleading and confusing Tom by saying, “nothing’s wrong, I’m okay,” and then sulking all night, I should be honest in real time. That’s what I want to be.

Tom himself also gave me an incredible insight today. After church, I hoped he’d come with me for lunch with Christine and then give me a ride to an appointment I had downtown. I told him of my plans, but I hate feeling like I’m pressuring him into things. So I said he didn’t have to if he didn’t want to. When he started to refuse, I felt hurt and a bit mad, too. It seemed to me that, considering all I do for him and how little I ask back, it was unfair for him to turn me down. I started to guilt him with this perceived injustice. He said that if I want something, I should ask for it— not feebly suggest it and then start guilting when things don’t go how I wanted. Well, as soon as he said that, I knew he was right. I hate it when people do that to me. I hate it when they fish for something and vaguely appeal to my charity instead of just asking for what they want from me. It was like a light bulb went on. I don’t want to be “that” person. I suppose that comes down to me being honest, too. If I ever say, “but you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I need to seriously be equally as alright with him saying, “okay, I think I won’t” than I would be with him saying, “yes, I’ll do it.”

Another thing that gives me much happiness in my relationship with Tom is that, like me, he wants to work towards an attitude, life, and demeanour that Christ would rejoice in. I have been affirmed in my belief that the two of us can correct each other in a spirit of love and wanting something better for the other, not of condemnation or superiority. That is so incredibly precious that I can’t put words to it. I think that’s probably the paramount of what I’ve hoped, my whole life, to find in a man one day. Finally, someone understands that my criticism is never intended to hurt, but to heal. And finally, someone is not afraid to hold a mirror up and do the same for me. It just makes me excited to know that, within this dynamic, we will both be better in the future than we are now. We can help each other shed the things about ourselves that hold us back from being the vision God has for us.

The second lesson of the recent weeks has been of love for God’s beloveds. In other words, for everyone. I’ve realized that to look at someone and immediately see their faults sets up a barricade to treating them in the way that Jesus wants me to. It’s hard for me to see people who have made what I consider to be stupid choices in life and not feel a bit better than them. Oh, but I need to shed that for sure. I need to remember (and remember often) that my good choices are due to the good influences I’ve always had, and yet, did nothing to earn. I’m determined to be free of the delusion of superiority.

I love new beginnings. That’s why September is my favourite month— for years in school, it was a new start. This year it is, too. And I am excited.

    with silly love songs.

I think people are getting duped.

The majority of the videos on YouTube have no value except to a few people. Although not everyone wants to watch little Billy’s first steps taken from grainy cellphone footage, his grandparents probably do. Humanity at large can do without a Draco Loves Hermione picture montage set to Linkin Park music, but you know that a couple excited girls will watch it and love it incessantly. The existence of videos that the a majority of people would consider superfluous isn’t the issue. The issue is when bad videos by untalented people gain enough momentum in their popularity that they become a spectacle. They become a pop culture icon because of their “badness.”

Yet, people pass on only what interests or entertains them. If you consider a video boring or useless, you wouldn’t post it to your friend’s Facebook wall. In the case of all these bubblegum pop internet phenomenons, to share their work is to admit they have value, even if your qualifier is something like, “check this out, it’s the worst song ever made.” After all, society loves a laughingstock; a place to go for obvious, mediocre jokes that everyone will get, or even just a water cooler topic.

I say people are being fooled because those who get annoyed, for example, that Rebecca Black is enjoying such a massive financial pay-out from a song that was horrible, typically act in a way that feeds her success rather than quells it. They watch her video. They type a comment declaring that they hate it. They watch it again to remember how bad it is. They show it to a friend so that they may validate that it is indeed terrible. Through it all, her “views” count and notoriety go up. And who’s laughing at the end of the day? Rebecca Black, who spent $4,000 to create a terrible video and made $1,000,000 back from it.

There is but one bane, one way to stop bad performers: Ignore them completely. Teenagers auto-tuning to an empty room don’t auto-tune for very long. And even if they do, no one can hear them.

I hate smoking. Here is why.

Although my parents both smoked in their rebellious youths, they had quit for good long before my brother and I came onto the scene. As I was growing up, my parents’ friends (mainly church-folk) were also non-smokers. These were the adults I respected and adored. In retrospect, it was perhaps coincidence more than anything that led me to notice that adults who smoked were rough, vulgar and not very bright. But circumstances aligned to allow me to form this interpretation, and admittedly, it has stuck with me.

I struggle to remember any smoker in my childhood that I genuinely felt safe with. I can still recall my first ballet teacher, a squat bleach-blonde lady leaning against the doorframe with a lit cigarette as she instructed the seven-year-olds to “dance sexier.” This was in stark contrast to Amanda, my second ballet teacher after I switched dance schools in grade six. She was one of my shining childhood role-models who cared deeply for us.

On one occasion, I was over at my brother’s friend’s house and it was out of his father’s mouth (an avid smoker) that I first heard the word “fucking” spoken in anger by an adult. It took me completely by surprise and scared me terribly. Because even now, I have still not heard this word in anger from either of my parents. It only reinforced what I already felt about smokers in general.

In the 90s when I was a kid, television was inundated with anti-smoking ads aimed at children and teenagers. Everyone my age ostensibly knew that smoking was a habit that could harm you. But all the ads and PSAs were only vague, far-away warnings compared to the living proof I was faced with every day: Our elementary school principal, Mrs. MacKenzie.

She was a behemoth of a woman. She must have weighed six hundred pounds. But despite that, she was defined in my mind only by her incessant smoking. We always saw her standing by the front doors, puffing away even in the bitter cold. At school assemblies, she’d get winded just walking to the podium and then be overtaken by fits of coughing. I genuinely thought, at eight years old, that I might witness her death at any moment. I can’t remember her voice or face. I can’t remember how she treated us or spoke to us, whether or not she even liked children. All I remember is that she was (and remains) the symbol of smoking for me. The opposite of cool or attractive. The opposite of rebellious— she was a slave.

I took this “picture” of smoking with me to junior high school. None of my friends were remotely interested in smoking, and none of the smoking kids were remotely interested in me. It was perfect. The last thing I wanted in life was to become Mrs. MacKenzie, so I was prepared to resist peer pressure at any cost. There was really only one jr. high experience involving smoking that made an impression on me, but it made a profound one.

One lunch hour, Kim and I were crossing the street on our way to 7-Eleven with two other girls in our grade. We were about fourteen at the time. Kim and I were going to get candy; the other girls were going to attempt to replenish their cigarette stash. One of Kim or I asked, “Why do you smoke? Don’t you know it’s bad for you?” One replied, “Yeah, but we aren’t afraid. Bring on the cancer! Anyway, smoking is cool because our parents can’t stop us.” It was at that moment that I saw and understood, plainly, how pathetic and unintelligent rebellion was. It was as though these girls were too dumb to piece together that the reason their parents didn’t want them to do something harmful was because they wanted the best for them, not because they wanted to deny them happiness.

Those few offhand words from a girl I never respected affected the course of my teenage life. I decided to rebel against rebellion. Instead of doing whatever I could to wreck myself in order to appear cool (smoking, swearing, drinking, listening to over-loud debauched music, drugs, sex— all the things teenagers do best), I just did what made me genuinely happy. I enjoyed my friends and tried hard in school and made my parents proud. In high school and beyond, I didn’t waste a moment’s thought on whether anyone thought I was cool due to what I did or didn’t do. Such a gift that foolish girl unknowingly gave to me.

“Foolish” is a word that is interesting to think about. I don’t use it interchangeably with “stupid” because I think there is a subtle difference. Often, “stupid” just means “ignorant.” A stupid person could become smart with some education or enlightenment and would likely change their ways. But a fool doesn’t need new information. They are not ignorant of facts. A fool is someone who is aware of consequences, but proceeds anyway. They say, “I know I shouldn’t, but…” They don’t care.

I think smoking— cigarettes, cigars and the like— is foolish and considering my background, find it difficult to respect anyone’s decision to do it. Since I have never smoked, I can’t hope to comprehend the attraction. Thanks to Mrs. MacKenzie, I could certainly never interpret it as looking cool or dignified. Thus, to me, it is a destructive action with no long-term pay-off. People’s attempts to help me understand have all failed. My brain can’t envision a feeling so good or a mind so calm that I’d be willing to, over time, risk my life for it. Even if I could, I wouldn’t want to depend on an external substance to get it.

Above all, I hope my words illustrate that it is not out of superiority that I condemn smoking. It is because of my childhood and the people who formed it. When I see, now, people that I love smoking, it throws me into uncomfortable doubt that I’d be happier to avoid. Because due to the smokers I knew as a kid who were horrible, quick-tempered and unintelligent, I can’t help but question the goodness, patience and intelligence of these people in my adult life who also enjoy smoking. The smell of tobacco smoke puts me on edge quicker than any other smell, because as a child I had it linked so reliably with people who made me feel scared and uncomfortable because they were so unlike my parents— my benchmark for goodness and safety. It’s better for me that I don’t think much about the smoking habits, however occasional, of the people I like. If I dwell on it, it makes me unbearably sad.

Those are my thoughts on smoking as they exist within the framework of my own prejudice, separate, really, from any other ideology. When I think of it theologically, my mild aversion becomes a touch indignant: A Christian who smokes says to God, “Hey, this healthy body? Thanks but no thanks.” The aggravation of it all bothers me, but I suppose that for me to feel anger on God’s behalf is rather unnecessary.

I have never taken any kind of gender studies course (or even a sociology or psychology course), and have little to no quantifiable evidence to support my opinions; only my own experience.

Based on this experience, I think being a woman is great. I have never felt held back by my gender although, admittedly, I am not particularly career-minded. I would imagine that is one of the arenas where people are fighting the hardest for equality here in Canada.

I love both genders and believe they need each other equally. When I hear someone imply that one gender is better overall than the other, I think they’re deluded or conceited. As far as I’m concerned, people can go ahead and make their cheap-shot not-really-that-funny gender jokes all they like, but they can expect to lose a bit of my respect each time they do. (This goes for “men are clueless dopes” jokes as much as “women are incompetent and should stay in the kitchen” jokes.) On the other hand, when I hear someone say that both genders are the same, I disagree there as well. If they truly were the same, they wouldn’t exist. They wouldn’t have to.

No, men and women are different and, born of that, they are naturally better (in general) at different things. I would assert that the things we find ourselves “naturally good at,” individually, are clues about what our purpose is. And to lean into one’s purpose will result in the greatest positive impact. It is foreseeable that some men will be very good at things that are typically considered “a woman’s role” and some women will be very good at things that are typically considered “a man’s role.” To me, gender equality means that these people are free to lean into their strengths without their gender hindering them.

However, we also see people of a gender who aren’t naturally good at something considered as the other gender’s role, but they try to go there anyways, hoping that “gender equality” means that they’re fully entitled to. But the standards of any role should not be lowered in order to accommodate that interpretation of equality. That would just result in everything being less good.

Considering traditional gender roles, now, look back in time. In mankind’s early days, people lived in hunter-gatherer societies. It was natural for the males to do the hunting— they’re bigger and stronger. To continue the society, having children was important and much less optional than it is today. So, females had children and took care of them while the men were hunting. Those gender roles made sense in a purely physical framework. Think about times as recent as the early 1700s. If they weren’t upper-class, people worked on farms. Having children back then wasn’t about having a cute little peanut to buy adorable clothes for. People had kids as employees— hands to work the farm. A lady could spend most of her prime years in pregnancy. So, physically-determined gender roles made sense in that time, too. The man did the heavy lifting and grunt work involved in farm living that a pregnant lady probably shouldn’t. Plus, seven to fourteen kids probably kept her fairly busy.

In our times of modern convenience, the overwhelming majority of the downtown jobs a person can get requires little to no physical strain or aptitude. And if you’re willing to have a mature conversation without any quippy jokes, you can submit that for the intellect required by the average office job, men and women are absolutely on an equal playing field. So, while my female ancestors’ survival might have depended on settling down with a huge man able to protect her from wolves, bears and other men, I live in one of the safest places in the world. I have never required the protection of anyone; not because I am strong or fearsome, but because city life and society itself (coupled with the common sense of not walking down the beltline at two in the morning) protects me. The most dangerous creature I come across with any regularity is my eight-year-old tabby cat and that’s straight-up not an exaggeration.

With that in mind, why should any office jobs be considered “men’s jobs?” Why wouldn’t women “invade” the workforce? The human population is in no danger of extinction; a woman can choose not to have children without guilt for the species’ survival. Our middle-class North American world has largely moved beyond gender roles being dictated by physical predisposition, which means that our culture is one that is poised, perhaps more than ever, for equality.

To consider this change in roles themselves, and the inevitable happening of women filling in these roles because they are completely able to, is it accurate to say that women no longer need men? Of course not. That is like saying that men have historically not needed women. Ultimately, neither gender can survive without the other— it is a biological truth. The roles dynamic is merely altered. In our great grandparents’ time, it was nearly always the man who would provide for the family. Now, we’re seeing the emergent “stay-at-home dad” and “breadwinner mom.” Yes, the lines between genders seem to be blurring a bit in terms of profession roles, but in my opinion, this is not cause for alarm. There remain enough family-minded women that a man wanting to work eight hours at a job and come home to a hot dinner is still be able to find such a wife and do so. If these women are more rare than they have previously been, all the better. It will prove how valuable they always have been.

Where does this upcoming gender role equality lead us in terms of the day-to-day flourishes that ladies have enjoyed for years? Admittedly, this is where it gets fuzzy for me. I think it’s nice when a man opens a door for me or says something like, “ladies first” when getting off a bus, but I certainly don’t expect these things and I do not take particular notice when they do not occur. They are things that, I think, add geniality to our civilization. People who read too much (negatively) into these small gestures are merely looking for a fight. Being offended if a man doesn’t open a door for you, or being offended if he DOES (I can do it myself, thank you very much), is either manifesting an air of entitlement or is simply missing the point. I would be a little sad to see these little things (door holding, etc.) go completely by the wayside, but if they do, they do. If women truly are viewed as equal in coming years, those things will have no reason to remain.

In any case, Tom always opens my door for me when we drive somewhere and it makes me feel cherished. We both have stellar dads who respect and adore our moms and that makes me so, so happy. I hope it’s a trend that will carry on throughout the generations.

“Equality” is a word you hear all the time, but I wonder how similar everyone’s definitions of this word would be. Because, in terms of workplace gender equality, to me, “equality” does not mean “50+% of all top-level managerial positions shall be held by women.” I think that’s a bad way of measuring it. It would be better to say, “Employees are paid based on the quality of their work, regardless of their gender.”

The truth as I see it is that, although we notice an increase these days of women who want a career and not a family, there are still many women who want a family instead of a career (or, a career after a family). I am unashamedly one of the latter; my kids will have my full attention. Based on that, it would be unwise of my employer to groom me for upper management in the company. Those efforts would be wasted when I ultimately quit my job to raise kids. This is completely due to my gender; if I were a man, it would be a different story. Of course, this makes it difficult for women who want a career and not children. Companies are caught between a rock and a hard place because it is technically against the law to discriminate. But they are taking a risk when they hire the 25-year-old female over the comparably qualified 25-year-old male. Even if the female vows that she doesn’t want kids, minds do change. I’ve seen it happen. If she quits two years in, the company might take a hit that they perhaps would have avoided in hiring the male. At least, that’s how I see it. And I think it’ll be an issue that may never completely go away, because women will always be the gender that can naturally bear children.

One thing I think is unfortunate is that, as a culture, we have developed a mind that will “rank” roles based on perceived importance. One woman says, “I’m a lawyer,” and another says, “I’m just a housewife,” as though one role is more important than the other. I don’t think it is. If this “just a housewife” creates harmony and security in the lives of her family members, the impact of that is immeasurable, yet commonly undervalued. I think a woman’s choice to be “just a stay at home mom” should not be looked down on. To say she should aspire to more is making an undue judgment. As someone who has little interest in the professional world, I can predict that probability suggests there to be some men out there who feel similarly. If they want to keep a home and raise a family, I think they should be able to so, without scorn (in the same way a woman should be free to say, “I don’t want to have kids,” and become a politician if that’s where her skill set takes her.)

And not to beat a dead horse, but I can’t stress enough the importance of having a good and loving mother— a woman who has said, “I do want to have kids and will do all I can to raise them right.” That’s the mother I have, and I happily give her due credit for any good I manage do in this world. I don’t have to spend my time dealing with the emotional scars of bad or spotty mothering; I can skip straight to doing what I can for other young girls. I don’t say this to brag. It is in desperate gratitude that I underline the impact that “just a housewife” has.

Now, Kate Middleton received some attention earlier this year when it was dispensed that she would not, in her wedding vows, promise to “obey” William. It seems reasonable that this part of the traditional vow originated in the bit of scripture that ladies love to hate, Ephesians 5:22; “Wives— submit to your husbands.”

Misogynistic? Read the verse before it: “Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.” And skip down to verse twenty-five: “Husbands— love your wives as Christ loved the church.” Some translations use the word “cherish.” Have you ever cherished something? Would you wish harm on that thing? Christ suffered and died for His church. We are talking here about very powerful devotion. If you ask me, women are duly protected by the same chapter that might doom them to a life of matrimonial servitude. On top of it all, I live in a culture where a woman may choose the man to whom she makes wedding vows. Instead of worrying that submission undermines you as a person, why not simply choose a just and good man whose advice you value and whose decisions account for your feelings and well-being? Submitting to one another could be quite natural for a like-minded couple.

On a related note, you hear from time to time that a guy is “whipped.” Maybe he’s at the beck and call of his wife as though he’s a trained dog, maybe he makes sacrifices far more often than she does, maybe he’s continually putting up flowery wallpaper in the master bedroom while all his friends are getting rowdy at the game. It’s disappointing when it gets to that extent. But, as in all things, I hope for a balance. Because, on the other hand, if a man is married, he can’t go on living and thinking like a bachelor. I was talking to a newlywed acquaintance last week and, of married life, he said, “It’s a little scary. It struck me suddenly that it’s not just me anymore.” I think he is very right to think so. Both partners must sacrifice and think of each other. Within reason, it is not a mark of weakness, but of strength. In short, I hope the term “whipped” will be reserved for those truly embarrassing cases and not attached carelessly to any man who shows difference to his wife.

To conclude, I deeply respect both genders. I hope I succeed in ultimately conveying to my youth group girls that despite what they hear, men are not all pigs. Some are, but some women are, too. That they do not need the love of a man to be happy, and that the love of a man will not necessarily make them happy. However, it surely can— if they are discerning, and patient to wait for a good one. Yes, they are certainly out there.

    I go nowhere warm
until I see your smile and feel your calm

I feel great. June this year is starting a hundred times better than June last year. I actually think that keeping a tidy room is helping, and I also discovered recently that spending an evening shopping alone at Chinook somehow helps me unwind. I think the over-stimulation of a big mall just sets my mind on a different track, and when I went last Thursday I kept striking gold in things unexpectedly ringing in as being 50% (or more!) off. So I got a carry-on luggage for Italy that I adore for $39, marked down from over $100. When I got home I sewed a metal flourish onto it that I got from Beadaholique and now love it even more.

Another thing is that youth group is a tad less stressing this year since small groups are ending a bit sooner and this particular month has been light on the preparation. I’m toying with the idea of stepping back from Friday events next semester to focus on small groups and more random coffee dates with the girls. The one with Shailyn & Banu last month was great apart from getting lost (very lost) between Shailyn’s house and Banu’s. I freaked out but we found our way eventually. I hope she didn’t think I was mad at her. I only hate being lost; it’s an awful feeling. But all I need to do is keep driving that path until it’s second nature and stress-free like my figurative driving rut between my house, church and my parents’ house. Yes. Be brave!

If this weather keeps up, I’m going to frisbee tonight for the first time this year!

  Well, then be clever
     not beautiful

Now that June’s on the near horizon (it may as well be tomorrow for how fast these days are going), I’m going to try this year to be ready for it. For me it is notorious for being the busiest month. Last year I was so close to my wits’ end that by the twenty first I was deliberately and unabashedly bawling while watching the Land Before Time to release all my pent up tension. Looking back at the calendar though, that June doesn’t seem especially more busy than all my months lately have been. Maybe it felt worse than it was. Or maybe I just got used to it.

In any case, I’m going to get the jump on it this time by being very intentional about having at least one evening a week on which I can stay in and just get caught up on laundry and have some time to reflect on everything. And starting now I’m going to eat more healthy so that I feel great for June (although this nacho binge has been fun.)

I got nominated to be the church secretary but I think I will probably decline that. Most weeks I spend Friday, Saturday and Sunday evening at church already so I think adding to that will only make me feel like my time is stretched too thin. Perhaps, one more test of my learning that it’s okay to say no sometimes.

Youth ministry has been so good, though. What does it mean that tonight I am far, far more nervous to drive on Glenmore than I am to defend Mosaic Law to two high school girls? Both I would consider personal growth, and youth ministry kicks my butt in that direction. Amen to that.

ne valent pas grand chose,
Elles passent en un instant, comme fanent les roses… mais…

This weekend felt long and centering with a healthy dose of perspective. I am thankful.

I was lucky enough to get the day off on Friday to go to Tom’s grandpa’s funeral. It was good to honour a great man. Funerals, and this one most recently, tend to wake me up a little as far as being mindful of leaving a legacy is concerned. It’s not something we start when we’re thirty. It’s something we started, intentionally or not, as early as our childhood (but can still control now). I read my beloved Psalm 90 as a reminder of the point of it all.

I was at Tom’s parents’ house for most of the weekend (Friday too) and enjoyed it so much. On Saturday night we spent some time with Shaun and Claire, and it was inspiring to hear about how Shaun quit his job but is continuing his work uninterrupted, only now without being under poor management. People on his team quit in his wake to follow him. That’s awesome! To me that says it all about how he treats the people he manages. I love to hear people talk about what they’re good at and where they’re making a difference. Passion always has uplifted me, though, and I do know why.

I listened to a Jeff Henderson sermon a few months ago about discerning God’s will for our lives— a seemingly difficult and shrouded task if there ever was one. After hearing the talk, though, perhaps not so shrouded. In short, he said that we can consider our uniqueness and the things we are “naturally good at” as clues concerning what we were meant by God to do. That isn’t, obviously, to say we should not try to improve in what we’re weak at, but to embrace what comes easily and what we love based on the skills we more or less just find ourselves with, that makes total sense to me. When someone is doing what they’re meant to be doing— what they’re here for— there is nothing unexciting about that.

It is not only mainstream Christianity that feels this. Paulo Coelho refers to it as a “personal legend” in The Alchemist. Scott Adams’ unabashedly blasphemous but compelling God’s Debris calls it “contributing to the realization of God’s consciousness.” There’s something inherently right about living within your purpose, and when I hear about people who are, it fires me up, because it supports what I love (progression, achievement, improvement) and has little room for the things that annoy me (apathy, laziness, waste.)

The glory of God is man fully alive.

As bright as evening stars
    that light the way.

On Saturday, Tom and I read a bit from an Enneagram book he borrowed. I have a lot of considering and introspection to do before I can confirm if I am indeed a Type 2 and what that means for me, but further, this new view into Type 8 (Tom’s type) has been rocking my view of him and others since that day. Of course, it all makes sense now! Almost as an extension of my last entry, knowing people’s motivations and reasoning help in understanding. That book has probably saved me years of anguish and has set me bounds ahead in discovering my “happy medium between doormat and jerk” method of interaction.

Here’s why. The realization is this: some people don’t challenge thoughts and opinions in order to prove someone wrong and break them or make them feel bad. They do it in part because something in them wants to respect a person, but they need a reason— they can’t do it blindly like some other people can. They want to see a person defend themselves, not run away. This insight into motivation changes everything for me. Instead of backing down when challenged (as is my instinct; to avoid conflict), I could step up to the plate and just do my best to explain why I think they way I do. And that might even be what they want! I know it all looks simple written down, but it’s difficult in practice for me. I’m more in the habit of removing things from danger than I am of handing them a sword.