Recently I finished a Pulitzer Prize winning novel, Unless, by Canadian author Carol Shields.
The book is written in a first person narrative, a story told by Reta (Ree-tah) Winters. She is a mother to three nearly grown daughters, life-partner of Tom Winters, translator for a French feminist, and writer of a few comic light novels. And while Reta has a good life it starts to fall apart when her oldest daughter Norah drops out of school and turns up on a Toronto street corner, begging, and wearing a cardboard sign around her neck with GOODNESS written across it. Reta is trying to figure out what happened to her daughter, what should she do, and how to cope with life when it begins to fall back into the pre-Norah-disaster-routine.
Shields is an insightful writer. Being a native Brit, she is considered one of the top ten female English writers of all time. Guess who else in on that list? Yup, Jane Austen herself. One reviewer describes how Shields believes writing can be a redemptive force, and she is most concerned with writing in a way that can be redemptive to women.
Reading this book left me much to mull over. I don't want to spoil the story, but I need to give a brief overview in order to frame the thoughts that will follow. A key character in the story is Danielle Westerman, a (fictional) titan among the significant French feminists. Dr. Westerman believes that women at some point in their lives realize that they are truly powerless in a male dominated society and either deal with it or disintegrate. She believes that Norah has realized her powerlessness and has fallen into despair. Reta wonders if this is true, and it is a genuine fear she has for her other two teenage daughters. But why does Norah's sign say GOODNESS?
Reta decides to write a new novel, another beach read, and while her editor loves the goodness found in her lead female character he tells her that it is her lead male character that the book should revolve around. The editor wants the book rewritten. The editor says goodness is not enough, that the strong male on a strong search for identity is much more compelling to the market he wants to target. Tom, Norah's father, is the one who eventually discovers that a catastrophic event is what sent his daughter to a street corner. And I won't give that away, but it has nothing to do with powerlessness in a male dominated society.
But it has everything to do with evil, with tragedy, with - sin.
I have read many books about feminism, social structures, a bit of feminist theology, and will be reading more this summer. And while I freely admit that anger grants us incredible power, it can lead to destructive actions. I am wary of any worldview, any theology, any mission sourced in, above all, anger - therefore I am wary of angry feminism because I have dabbled in it myself.
Part of the phenomenal success of the show "Sex in the City" is that the lead female characters behaved just like a stereotypical cave-man males: having promiscuous sex, no desire to commit, totally self-centered, living like a career is more important than relationships or family - etc. A recent issue of Maclean's has the excellent article that catalyzed some of these thoughts (The Curse of Sex in the City). To even out the playing field women started acting like men. How - misogynistic Lindsey Lohan is quoted in the article saying that watching "Sex in the City" totally shaped how she views sex because the characters had sex with "whoever". And the whole terrible backlash of women-behaving-like-men-behaving-badly has backfired on women. Earlier this year I was reading Wendy Shalit's A Return to Modesty who writes that violence against women has not decreased at all with women declaring the right to essentially be a man, and are still entrenched in cycles of abuse, denigration and - wait for it - misogyny. Somebody needs to help poor Lindsey Lohan. And Brittney Spears. And...
Am I thankful for those early 1920's feminists, and even their 1960's sisters? Yes I am. I am very glad to be a woman in 2008 rather than in 1808, even though we sentimentalize the past because we grew up with the lovely novels of Montgomery, Alcott and Carol Ryrie Brink. However, liberation found in a false source isn't true liberation. I hate that women think the way to be a woman is to be a man. I hate that women think modesty, in spirit and apparel, is weak. I hate that there are women who can only make a living by selling their bodies. I hate that women think that marriage, family, and childbirth are a form of slavery and disgusting.
Women who believe these things are blind to the GOODNESS of being a woman.
Christianity is a strange faith, a strange worldview/religion because it speaks of weakness. Jesus is a strange savior. He allowed himself to be crucified, to suffer, to be humiliated, to die. And yet his suffering and death is exactly what raises him to a position of authority and honor in heaven. In Revelation we read that Jesus, pictured as a lamb, is the only one found worthy to judge and to open the book of life. Somehow his humility makes him powerful. Somehow his diminished glory (Philippines 2) reveals his love and his goodness. Jesus doesn't seize power, he gives it up. Jesus does not become a new Caesar, he embodies a suffering servant who washes feet and heals the wounds of his attackers.
How bizarre. And captivating. And good.
Of course this does not mean we condone injustice or abuse. But it does challenge a culture that says if you have been at a disadvantage you run to The State and demand equality. The State can not restore what has been broken by sin.
As Christians, as citizens, as men and women, as Americans, Canadians, Chinese - how do we model the servant nature of Christ and yet advocate for justice and truth? Perhaps one of the first things we do is speak of Goodness and Hope; to remember that it is Christ and not a government that can restore what has been robbed from us, and to never ever build our beliefs solely out of anger...no matter how much of a right to that anger we have.
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