Alright, I had to lure you in somehow with a catchy
title. Let me say on the front
side that this article is NOT a feminist commentary. This isn’t a guy-bashing article either. It’s just my attempt to process some
things that have happened recently (and to solicit advice, too). What has really gotten me thinking
about this is that we’re starting a new series on Identity in my youth group in
the spring. As I’ve prayed and thought about it, I really have decided that I need
to get to the core of my identity so that I can be vulnerable and honest with
my students.
So here’s the back-story. First and foremost, over the past few years I have had next
to no guy friends. I’ve had
acquaintances at work or guys I interact with on a periodic basis, but no real
guy friends. Here in Hong Kong, it’s a whole new
ball game. Most of the people that
I’ve become good friends with happen to be guys. Which is awesome.
I can truly say that I love these guys. They’re upstanding, good, Jesus-loving men. But it has brought to the front of my
mind that there are some fundamental differences between guys and girls. I’m not here to create an argument on
whether this is due to culture or birth, but let’s just settle on the idea that
my guy friends and I are different from each other.
We’re different in the way we approach things, in the way we
respond to things, and in our attitudes.
And this is a very good thing.
I love hearing other perspectives, and often leave conversations with them
challenged to think about my opinions.
They’re smart and opinionated and it keeps me on my toes.
So here’s my most current issue. A few weeks ago, I was at coffee with two guy friends and a
female friend. At the end of the
night, one of the guys offered to pick up the check (for everyone, not just
me). Almost immediately, I
responded that I could get my check – that he didn’t need to do that, as nice
as the offer was. I think I also
made a quick quip saying something to the effect of “if this was a date, I’d
let you pick up the check, but since it isn’t, I can get my own!” I meant it to
be funny. He insisted, and we got into a debate during which my level of
passion surprised even me. We went
back and forth with him asking why I wouldn’t let him get the check, and I said
because I made plenty of money and was just fine paying for my own coffee. Even as I type this, I can see that it
came out more harshly than I meant.
Eventually we settled and he paid the check.
As he and I walked back to our neighborhood, I was very
happy that he asked me a few more questions about why I wouldn’t let him
pay. I was glad to have the
opportunity to debrief the incident a little more. Because what I realized in that moment is that I came across
as some feminist, independent, “don’t need a man” type. I had to ask myself if that was my
honest attitude. As we talked, it
became clear to me that the reason I didn’t want him (or anyone for that
matter) to pay is because I worry about inconveniencing other people, not out
of some gender power struggle.
Something else that I realized during our walk is that I am very
conscious of taking care of myself.
This is also a derivative of this desire to not inconvenience
anyone. I have always been
self-motivated, responsible, and had a strong desire to be
self-sufficient. I think this
comes more from a desire to not be a burden on anyone than to prove that I
don’t need a man. I was never the
kid who thought, oh, hey, if my life post-college doesn’t work out, I’ll just
move back in with my parents. In
fact, I found myself in that exact situation and did literally everything
possible to avoid it.
I felt a lot better about things after our chat and thought
I had moved on.
Last week, though, I returned from having dinner with another
friend to my house for my roommate’s going away party. As the group sat around chatting, my
roommate mentioned that I had met a friend of hers. She said that her friend told her about how I was “one of
those independent women” and recounted the coffee shop story to her. I couldn’t place this friend of a
friend, and in fact have since come to realize that I have never, in fact met
this person. I’m not sure what the
story is there, but I can safely assure you that her friend was not there for the
coffee shop incident. So what I
finally figured out is that at a “guys night” my two guy friends who were at the coffee shop apparently
talked about it with their friends and my roommate’s friend heard what happened. Which doesn’t bother me. What does bother me, however, is that
now, an entire group of people, without knowing me, have stereotyped me as
being something that I’m not.
I am probably more sensitive about this than most people
because I feel like being a woman working in a church keeps me on the defensive
a lot of the time. Thankfully, in
the walls of my church I am accepted, loved, and my ministry is validated. But often times outside of the church,
I meet people (normally well-meaning guys) who seem to think my ministry is a
joke, or worse, unbiblical. I am
often typecast because of the kind of church I work in and therefore my
theological opinions are assumed to be “feminist”. And this is without people knowing anything about me. I feel like I do a lot to NOT become
one of those angry women working in churches. The ones with a chip on their shoulder. I find a lot of joy in my job. I love the ministry I do. I’ve been on
staff with women who are more interested in pushing their feminist doctrine
than the doctrine of the good news of Jesus Christ and this is the opposite of
what I want to be.
So then, what is it that I want?
I think this is the core question of this whole issue. I want to be who I am. I believe that we each have our
personality for a reason, even if there are some challenges that come along
with it. I know I wouldn’t be as
effective in ministry if I didn’t have my personality. But on the other side of the coin, I want
people to be able to see beyond my desire for independence and
self-sufficiency. I want to be
able to be vulnerable with them. I
want them to see the softer side of me, to see the side of me that would give
up the shoes on my feet for someone else.
I want people to see that I am nurturing and I love kids and I am
probably the most loyal friend you will have. I want people to see that I have a touch of whimsy, a bit of
mischievousness, and a love for life. That I am adventurous and inquisitive and
that these are the parts of my personality I love even more than my independence.
So here’s the summary.
Being “independent” which by my definition means being able to function,
make decisions, and form opinions on ones own (caveat: not ALWAYS on one’s own)
is not a bad thing. But somehow,
when a woman is independent, we typecast her as being hard or unfeeling or
feminist. What can be very good
things are all of the sudden turned into negatives. I struggle with this because I am both independent and yet
deeply desire warm relationships.
Often when people don’t know what to do with someone who doesn’t fit into
the mold they expect, they will fit them into another mold. Hence, typecasting. But at the end of the day, instead of
trying to fit people into prescribed molds, wouldn’t it be healthier to accept
each person with their unique mix of gifts and talents and see their identity
in Christ? To see their personality and gifts as part of God’s plan for their
lives?
I can tell you that I don’t have all the answers. This issue has got me thinking a lot
about how I come across to people and whether that aligns with who I am at the
core. But it also has me thinking
about how I relate to other people.
How I might be guilty of the same thing – of typecasting people into
molds that exist in MY mind. I
deal with people all the time from teenagers to adults who are asking these
same questions. Who am I? Is my identity derived from what people
say about me, what I say about myself, or what God says about me? How can I be a mix of things that seem
paradoxical? But the truth is, I
believe, that we are all paradoxical beings in a way. That God has given us the perfect blend of traits and
characteristics for the adventures he has called us into. It’s messy, but it is also strange and
beautiful.
-Til next time,
The adventurer
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