No One Needs to Save Me, I'm Already Saved

This is a post I have been ruminating on for some time now. I wrote it in my head a few times and now here I am committing it to blog. Finally.

So, here it is: I am not a feminist. In fact, I find it incredibly irritating when people tell me that I must a feminist because I am a woman. I already know what womanhood means to me, and it does not mean being a feminist. Feminism has been turned into a political party and I do not have to be part of it merely because of my gender. That is not empowering, in fact, it is the opposite.

 The fact that I received an education does not make me a feminist either. This isn't the 1800s. Girls can go to college and law school. They don't have to be a feminist to do it.

In this post I intend to create a definition of feminism, talk about what the role of women has been in history, and what the role of women ought to be, and describe what I see as a better approach to appreciating women and men. In all of this my ultimate goal is to explain the divine nature of womanhood, and hopefully get some people thinking about why it is more valuable to focus on that divinity, rather than focusing on feminism and the troubles it breeds.

So let's get started shall we?


Tell Me on a Sunday: Letting Go of the Upper Hand

Human nature is a funny thing isn't it? I have noticed in relationships that I lean towards the side of carefully guarding everything about myself in order to avoid seeming vulnerable in any way.

I am certain that I am not the only one who does this. Although The Main Ingredient explained to us clearly in the 70's that everybody plays the fool sometimes, we still try to be the exception to the rule.

Lately I have been evaluating myself and how closely I guard emotions, experiences, and fears in order to not end up as the fool. I find myself coming back to this question: when is it good to keep the upper hand, and when is it better to trust and let go?


Les Anges Dans Nos Compagnes

Il y a tant des choses que je peux dire. Mais surtout je veux vous dire desolee. Sorry I never write, sorry I am a slacker.

I am not avoiding you, je vous promis! Maybe I'll get one of those new fangled personal computers for Christmas and then I wouldn't be subject to the millions of other people that live in this home using this computer all the time. Sinon, j'aurai besoin de l'acheter (un ordinateur je veux dire.)

It is Christmas break. My older brother came into town about a week and a half ago. With him here my auntly duties to care for his children has diminished, I can get out of the house more all by myself. Which is nice. Don't get me wrong, I love those tiny people more than life itself, but, you know, sometimes I just want to be alone. Or be in my car NOT listening to Katy Perry. (Although hearing Jayda belt out Roar is adorable.)

Mais bon. It is almost Christmas day. That is exciting. In some ways this year I have had many moments where I have just felt like this year is kind of a wash for Christmas. I said that to my mom and broke her heart though. I am not feeling like a Scrooge or anything, it's hard to explain.


Be Ye Therefore Converted

Desolee mes amis! I have every intention of blogging more often and telling you all about my mission, the new Phoenix temple, things I am baking, and many other things. Life just gets away from me. It is also hard being computerless. I have to share my family computer, which has many people that want to use it. The second I get on my nieces and nephews are right there, wanting to play their online learning games. 3 year olds don't really care about my need to apply for jobs.

Anyway, I have been thinking a lot lately about all the reasons I went on a mission. So many people ask me, "why did you go? What was it like? How does that work? What is the biggest thing you learned?" So, I want to write this blog post to respond to that.


La rentree

C'est carrement difficile pour moi d'exprimer mes sentiments sur les derniers 18 mois. Comment puis-je commencer? Je ne sais pas.

I can't decide how to do this blog post. I have been home for three weeks. Sometimes I look down and go, "holy crap! Where is my plaque!" Then I remember I don't wear one anymore. Sometimes I am in the store with someone and they go down a different aisle while I am looking at something and I stop and follow them since I can't be alone... but I can. Sometimes people call me by my first name and my heart twists a little. You can't call me that! But they can.

Coming home from a mission is just wonderful and terrible all at the same time. You are figuring out your next step, ("where am I going to find a job?") you are trying to speak in English, but you don't want to stop thinking in French because you don't want to lose it. You are happy to be with your family, but you just want to go back to France and teach people the gospel.