A Tent Peg and a Pen

I got a bit snappy with a friend this morning.

It wasn’t my finest moment. If I were in the habit of making excuses for my poor emotional regulation, I would chalk it up to my alpha hormones. (My husband’s not a fan of them either. Here’s his visual rendering of his experience of my PMS symptoms.) The struggle is real, folks. And no, PMS is not an excuse. I just got angry and lashed out, and that was wrong.

So what made me mad? In all honesty, it was more about the series of horrors I encountered this morning before even engaging him. He wanted me to hear his impassioned plea about the evils of contraception, and I just wasn’t in the head space for the conversation.

Now to be fair, he’s probably right. He’s a stalwart champion of women, and I know his heart is good. My eyes have long been open to the exploitative nature of #BigPharma. Am I opposed to hormonal birth control? Nah. My position has always been more along the lines of “Enter at your own informed risk.”

Is it good for women? I’m no biologist or physician, but logic would lead me to conclude that you can hardly claim it's healthy to interrupt a healthy bodily function with synthetic hormones for years on end. I strongly suspect there are a ton of consequences that people refuse to acknowledge or name, consequences on overall health and fertility. Puberty is not a disease, and neither is fertility. Of course the money-hungry thought police tend to shut down the very research that could give us more solid insight in this department, so here we are.

I realize birth control is sometimes necessary for things like endometriosis, and I'm not throwing shade at anyone or judging their private personal choices. But this morning, my friend wanted me to see his perspective that contraceptives are just downright evil, and I couldn’t fully get there and was a bit surprised by the intensity with which I found myself shutting down the conversation.

I don’t usually surprise myself that way. I’m an obnoxiously self-aware person. But as I carted my 18 month old through the thrift store this morning, it dawned on me: I had spent the morning knee deep in every manner of misogyny imaginable, and, in that context, asking me to condemn birth control felt a lot like asking me to bake a cake while my house burned down.

Let me explain. Here’s a random sampling of some of the messages I encountered this morning.

Let’s start with the anti-suffragists, the men and women on my side of the political divide who sincerely believe the world will be saved from itself if we repeal women’s right to vote.

It would be one thing if this garbage were only being spewed by nameless, faceless internet trolls and keyboard warriors. But it’s not. It’s an increasingly popular sentiment on the right, as championed by a number of heavily influential pundits who’ve somehow managed to convince themselves that only people who vote according to their preferences should be allowed to vote at all. “Thou shalt only vote the way I say you should.” Thus saith George Washington?

And this is supposed to be a conservative position? Really? What’s next? The majority of black America votes Dem, too, so is their vote next on the chopping block?

The people who take this position routinely cite “neuroticism” and “empathy” as the female barriers to logical policy formation. It’s the age-old “women are too emotional” to be trusted nonsense. I’ve heard it half a dozen times in the last few days: “Women are to blame for abortion and Obama. Women support trans crap. Therefore women should not vote.” Ok. Women do evil things. We live in a fallen world. Cecile Richards, Sidhbh Gallagher? Blood on their hands. But there are countless women opposing their efforts, too.

Come the heck on, people. These arguments make about as much sense as subscription to the belief in a flat earth. Should we roll out the list of male atrocities and apply the same logic? Please, dear brothers, present me with the female equivalent of Adolf Hitler, Josef Stalin, Mao, Mussolini, or Kim Jung Un. Where is she? Since men are responsible for like 95% of the world’s sexual and violent crimes, should we restrict their right to vote, too? This is lunacy. Men punch holes in walls and shag sheep. Men have been in charge of all things since, oh I don’t know, ever. Did that prevent the Trojan War? Did it stop the femicide in India and China? Does it actually lead where you seem to believe it does?

If you actually believe in a democratic republic, then all people should have a right to a voice in the laws that govern them. It’s 2023. I can’t believe I have to explain this to people on my side of the aisle.

Now that the left has officially and unequivocally declared its war on women via transmania, there has never been a better moment for the Republican party to shine and demonstrate its commitment to the fair treatment of women. But do we carpe diem this crap? Of course not. Instead of, “Sisters, we stand with you. Come rest easy in our camp,” we’ve adopted “There’s a war on men” and “Repeal the 19th” as our slogans.

It makes me want to throw things. And yes, Candace Owens, strong emotion is within the realm of appropriate responses to your super gaslighty click-bait question. It’s reasonable for people to be upset when you bat around the idea of stripping their liberties. You don’t get to punch people in the face and then feign surprise when they bleed.

Not only did I wake up to the reminder that a ton of people on my team don’t think I should be allowed to vote, I also got a whole litany of reminders about the fact that my “biblical” role as a woman is basically barefoot and pregnant in the home, that I’m not allowed to say “no” to sex, that I’m failing my kids if I maintain employment outside the home, etc.

I’m not making this up.

I type this all with the important disclaimer that being a mother is the most meaningful, sacred work I will ever do on this planet, and my children are 100% my magnum opus. But I’m 40 years old. I just survived a geriatric pregnancy. Our house is already falling apart. We’re having a hard enough time paying our bills, and until my stunningly beautiful toddler grows up to be a wealthy supermodel who can chip in for expenses, it’s not “selfish” for me to try to avoid procreation in this season.

Sometimes it’s hard to be a woman, guys. I’m not complaining. I’m just being honest. It’s hard when the alpha hormones strike. It’s hard when you’re up through the night with a sick kid. It’s hard when you’ve got important things to contribute to the broader discourse only to be written off as a Jezebel who’s usurping her authority. It’s hard to have your value as a human reduced to your reproductive capacities. It’s hard to constantly be told that your place is somewhere other than the one where God has led you. And it’s hard when you fight so hard to protect other females only to have your own team kick them in the teeth.

Today, members of my in-group reminded me that I shouldn’t be allowed to vote, that I can’t preach (or teach) men, that I’m rebellious if I venture outside my home, that my primary function is to breed, that I need to have as many babies as possible even if I can’t afford them, and that I need to have a good attitude doing it. The message is “Down, woman. Stay in your place.”

This is not all that the good Lord made me for. Not by a long shot. I’ve got votes to cast and words to preach and lessons to teach and important things to say. I’ve got dollars to earn and mouths to feed and bills to pay and enough babies to keep me on my knees already. And when they observe me using my gifts in the Kingdom, when they see me speaking out and standing up and saying “no” to boxes God never intended for me, then they will arise and call me “blessed.” And they will be better for it.

Sometimes I think one of the reasons God allowed for the inclusion of Jael’s story in the Bible is to encourage women like me that He sees us and can use even our aggression for good. What she did with a tent peg, may I be given the strength to accomplish with a pen. May God make my anger righteous or replace it with His peace.