Recently, my husband and I and one of our daughters were eating lunch at a restaurant when an older man walked up to our table and asked us if we like to smile. We, of course, said yes. He proceeded to hand us a little pamphlet from the stack he was holding and began telling us Jesus is coming soon. I don’t remember much of what he said, but I smiled a tight-lipped smile and tried to excuse myself from the table. My daughter said I rolled my eyes during his monologue, but I don’t remember doing so. Instead, I did as I’d always done: keep quiet. Once he moved along, we finished our lunches, bought some ice cream, and went to eat on the park patio. Shortly, the man came along again. He stopped at our seats and recited his opening line. My husband quickly reminded him he’d spoken to us inside the restaurant. The man continued. My husband tried to distract him by asking questions, but the man was determined to finish his speech about the Second Coming. I stood up to go throw away my ice cream wrapper and managed to squeak out, “It depends on how you interpret Scripture.” That’s all I could say. I couldn’t carry on a discussion with the man because my brain was in fight or flight mode, and I couldn’t calm it.
I grew up in a religious culture in which women were taught to be subservient to men. And not just any men, but white, conservative Christian men. Women had little to no leadership roles, and questioning the men in authority was out of the question. A woman’s worth was based on her adherence to Proverbs 31, but a man’s worth was based on how much power he had within the church. Control and manipulation were the tactics to keep women quiet.
The only power women had was the ability to make a man have a sexual thoughts, or worse, act on those thoughts. Women could do this by simply wearing a v-neck shirt that was cut a little too low, wearing too-tight pants, and heaven forbid, a too-short skirt. For women to have had so little power in any other situation, a woman could be blamed and bear the sole responsibility for a man’s sin. We were constantly reminded to be above reproach, to wear modest clothing, and to be mindful not to cause a man to stumble. Our whole lives revolved around making sure those men were happy, never undermining their power, and ensuring they were able to control themselves around us.
Even as an adult who has been out of that bubble for a long time, I still find it difficult to stand up to or say no to such men. I’m still somewhat intimidated by them and, at times, long for their approval. It’s a sick remnant of my childhood and early-adult belief system that was perpetuated by my denomination’s twisted interpretation of Scripture. Men were to be the head of the household and head of the church, and women were little more than servants to those power-hungry men. Men were superior, and women were inferior. Scripture was often selected and taken out of context to support those ideas. Having been disciplined to believe the Bible is literal and without error, that our denomination’s interpretation was the only truth, and that the men delivering those truths were powerful, it’s not surprising that those beliefs so deeply instilled in me still cause fear to rise within me.
It’s no wonder I felt fear — not to be confused with respect — when the man kept pestering us at lunch. It’s no wonder my fight or flight mode kicked in, and as usual, flight won. It’s no wonder so many women in that religious culture are afraid to speak up, to defend themselves, to say no, or even, to tell what some man in power did to them.
