Church

Maddison

I’m only going to talk about one instance, but know that I have a list just like everyone else does. This one particularly hurts, because it involves my grandmother. I love her, but she has a deeply ingrained notion of “men coming before women.” When I was really young, about 5 or 6, I would regularly go with her to our local church — Baptist. This particular day, the church was having an event in which the entire thing was run by the kids. In preparation, I told my grandmother that I wanted to be the pastor, which she told me wasn’t possible but humored me nonetheless as I looked through the Bible and found passages I wanted to share. When we got to church, and I proudly exclaimed that I would be the pastor… I was laughed at, by everyone in the room. It was an absolute nightmare; I know now that they thought it was cute that I wanted to do this, but at the time I was horrified. They told me women couldn’t be pastors. I remember spending the rest of the night locked in the bathroom, sobbing, while my grandmother tried to coax me out. When I look back, I think this was a really big turning point for me in a lot of ways. It didn’t only show me that being a girl wasn’t going to be easy, but it also distanced me from religion as a whole. I’m agnostic, now, because I learned to fear god; he wasn’t on my side. I wonder if this outcome would be any different if they had just let me pretend to be the pastor.

Jules

I am so sick of the sexist rubbish that goes on in churches. First, when I was 17 and traumatised from being raped, the male youth leader decided to spread a rumour that I was the youth group ‘slut’ because I hugged my male friends. I got called a label, while he flirted with girls literally half his age (he was 30, they were 15). He’d go on mission trips and do talks about “the mission” when he got back. Except what he really talked about was the girlfriends he had overseas. That ain’t mission! He also had a lingerie catalogue in his car, in full view of any kids he drove home. Wonder what he used that for? Said very sarcastically. One evening we had a “sex ed” talk, boys separate from girls. We had to sit through slides of girls in different outfits and whether they were OK to wear or not. That’s not sex ed, that’s fashion critique and judgement! We got told that we should never be alone with boy, that if we were hugging a boy, we may as well be having sex, that we must always dress modestly. When one girl told us about being molested, the leader shrugged it off, making it seem like us wearing short skirts would have been worse than an actual rape! I was made to feel like my sexuality was a problem and labelled a slot, even though I was a virgin. Next, when I was a youth leader, another male youth pastor stopped me from going with one of our girls to report a sexual assault shed recently gone through. He said I was too emotional about what happened to her, that she was making it up and exaggerating, that she was doing it for attention. He said I cared too much for her, as if that was a sin. The same guy also slut shamed some of our girls, particularly one who was beautiful. Hed call her names, bitch about the others, then expect us to turn around and lead them! One night he got another guy and me to drive with him to check on some of our kids who were having a party. But we never did get to check on them. Instead, he called the young girls there sluts for wearing short skirts and drove off! Recently, we left a church because the pastor was bullying our son. That was the last straw, but really, in the year till now, I’d been stopped from helping with music (I play harp and sing), for no reason, I’d been told they want to see people with servant hearts “cleaning toilets and things,” and I’d been told I wasn’t ready to preach. On face level that sounds like they’re just ensuring faithfulness, but in reality, it’s sexism because my husband never got asked to do the cleaning! And hes been allowed to preach there since 3 months into attending! We’d been there 4 years and I still wasn’t allowed to serve using my gifts or skills but I was expected to clean. Its always the women who are expected to do the cleaning and cooking too. I barely see the male pastor cleaning. He just stands around talking! Some of the men are great at helping with these tasks but a number leave it to the women while they talk. Oh yeah, and I got in trouble for talking about how my faith got me through trauma on my Facebook page and for asking for prayer about making a police report on the prayer page too. Apparently I’m not allowed to talk about rape, even in a women’s only prayer group, because it might upset someone. Didn’t put details, just said I was raped can people pray. This shot gotta change!

La

I was at a house party with my colleagues when one of the guys asked his (male) friend to ‘say that funny story again.’ Everyone was all ears and he began his little tale about how girls are like bubblegum: sweet and flavourful at first, then a little bland over the time and finally, tasteless. ‘After a while (when it doesn’t have any more taste left) we will spit it out. Some unlucky guy, who will step on it accidentally, will get stuck with ‘them’ (for the rest of their life), he said in much better words. I was furious from the time when he finished his first sentence. By the time he finished the last sentence, I was neither patient nor willing to call out the obvious. Much to my horror, both women and men in the group were amused by the story and found it humorous. I went to the nearby washroom, pressed the flush, came back, and told this guy that whatever he just said was shit. Later at the office, (after heated arguments and statements were exchanged), he told me this story was told by a PRIEST, during a SERMON, which was attended by WOMEN, MEN, and CHILDREN!!! I had nothing more to tell him.

Cynthia

I was volunteering at a food drive at church with my mom. Out of nowhere, a man came up to me and took a picture with just me (not a group picture). I found it strange. Later when I told my mom about this, she told me that he’d said I was pretty (I was wearing a face mask and a cap, which thoroughly concealed my face) and something along the lines of “if only she were older.” I am 15. My mom tried to convince me that it was a compliment.

A

I am so sick of church people being so sexist… I am sick of these youth leaders thinking it is okay to belittle women. Just to make it clear, I have not experienced any sexual harassment or abuse and have really enjoyed youth group and church over the last few years. I am a feminist and a christian and believe women should be able to be senior ministers and not be judged for working full time (even if they have kids) When I go to youth group/church camps they say stuff like “the girls like to braid and paint nails and the boys like to play soccer”. They read and explain bible verses in disturbing ways that are projecting a controlling and superior mindset on the boys in my youth group and a submissive and inferior mindset on the girls. It makes me feel sick when the girls talk about how they want to submit to their husbands and not have careers. I am not shaming anyone (particularly the other girls my age) but if church thinks it is okay to tell young women this they need to think again. Out of the approx. 20 girls that attend it is only me and one other girl (I will call her Emma) who had any issues with the sexist and appalling teachings of our most recent camp in particular. In an effort to communicate our feelings, we put in many questions about equality and submission into the “question box”. We were both upset and angry to see our questions constantly being dodged and disregarded. I could see that my friend Emma, who had spent years learning about the bibles view on gender equality and grappling with both her religious and personal beliefs was extremely upset with the responses to her constant questions… I am not claiming to know all about the bible- I just think it is disgusting to preach submission in such a disregarding, sexist manner to young, impressionable teen girls. Emma and I have since left this youth group due to more bullsh*t and the replacement of a cool, understandable main leader with an annoying, homophobic one 🙂 Also their inability to l i s t e n to us.

Holly

I’m in my thirties, I developed early so from the age of nine I was subject to some form of unwanted attention or other. From stares and under eye glances to comments and even touching (from everyone, not just boys, but teachers and girls too). I used to ask to get changed for P.E in the toilets so I didn’t have to deal with it. As I got older it obviously got worse, boys would drop things on the floor and ask me to pick them up, when I did they would laugh coz they could see down my shirt. Although I hated it (and as a by-product, hated my breasts) I got so used to it, I I just started laughing it off as ‘normal’ and even tried to get ‘behind the joke’. As I got older the attention became more overtly negative, my family were churchgoers, and our church elders once asked my dad to tell me to cover up (in the middle of summer) because the way I dressed was distracting for the male members of our congregation (I was 15). One of the first jobs I held at age eighteen was in a shop. When I was behind the till, the manager would brush his penis across my bum and lower back when he walked past me, or push himself into the back of me, as if he were trying to get past but didn’t have enough room. We could have walked two by two down there! Sometimes customers would notice and smile at me as if it was flirting and something ‘cute’ or ‘funny’. I found out from a female colleague after I quit, that he’d told everyone that I’d quit because he’d gotten me pregnant! Even though I knew I hated all of this, I never told anyone, because I honestly hadn’t thought of it as worth telling anyone, I wouldn’t have labelled it as sexual harassment, because it was just so ‘normal’. It’s only in recent years that I’ve started to look back and with hindsight see how much of it there was. (Above is the tip of the iceberg) and now, having read more and understand more, I’m noticing a few little things that worry me about my own husband. (never thought about it before, but now we have a daughter, it concerns me more). – He mocks me when I get annoyed at the gendered way toys and clothes are marketed – He dismisses me when I raise concerns about sexism from our male friends – He once recounted a story he’d heard about a woman who had gone back to a guys house and who had consented to be fucked from behind up against a window. The guy had then left and his friend had started having sex with her, while he walked outside and waved at her through the window. When my husband (who had seemed to find this story funny) saw my reaction he looked suddenly serious and said “it’s basically rape”. I told him there was nothing “basically” about it. – Most recently, while we were watching the movie ‘Crash’ after the awful scene when Thandie Newton’s character is assaulted by the racist cop, he told me that he doesn’t like her as an actress anymore because of the way she ‘over reacts’ in that film. It’s little things, and I love him, he’s a good man and a great dad, but he has internalized misogyny and white male privilege which he refuses to acknowledge or tackle.

Anon

I grew up in a Christian church, going multiple times a week. As soon as I started to hit puberty, an older male church member (50-60 years older than me) would force me into hugs any time I saw him, saying “where’s my hug” or “there’s my girl.” He would squeeze me very tightly to his body. This happened every time I saw this man, and would occur in front of my parents, his wife, other church members, youth leaders, church leaders — the list goes on. Nobody ever said anything about it. I would walk to avoid him, or try to make jokes to avoid it, but it never seemed to work. Eventually I even spoke to my parents about it, and the just brushed it off. I’m now in my late 20s, and this still happens if I visit the church. It didn’t hit me until recently how inappropriate this behavior was, and how abhorrent it is that no adults ever intervened. It was just considered normal and expected that I, as a young woman, owed this male acquaintance physical affection just because he was there.

Tilda

Preschool I was called over to the corner of the playground where the teachers couldn’t see. Two slightly older boys took turns flashing me. I was shocked and frozen to the spot until a teacher came and dragged us all away. Junior high • A male teacher asked if I was going to join the running club, and said I should because I had “nice, long legs.” High school • A story came out the newspaper about how a prominent football player at the school had been accused of raping a girl. I knew him, and had been classmates with his younger brother at the private school where we’d all attended junior high. I watched boys joke around and laugh with the younger brother about the incident. I also watched numerous employees and families from my old school and church defend the older brother and say things like, “It’s not true. He didn’t do it.” They never mentioned the girl at all, but were victim-blaming by being rape-apologists. It was the first time I’d witnessed this, and it certainly affected my thoughts regarding rape, the Christian community, athletes and their privilege, and later, the act coming forward as a rape victim. • I was talking to my friend at her locker when a boy we knew came up behind me and mimed humping me. • In biology, a boy passed me a note suggesting we play the question game. I said okay. His questions were things like, “What size is your bra?” and “How far have you gone with a guy?” There was nothing I really wanted to ask him, but I answered his questions anyway. • My chemistry teacher was the cross country coach, very young and fit and pretty. Once a week was Lecture Day, and she’d spend the entire period at the front of class talking. I sat in the back row next a boy who would always masturbate during Lecture Day. I made eye contact with him once while he was doing it, and he just looked at me like, “What’s the big deal??” I felt embarrassed, but even more so for my teacher, who never knew it was going on. Since then, I have become a teacher myself, and this incident continues to haunt me. • I had French class with this one boy and since our previous classes were near each other, we often walked together. Once, walking through a crowded hallway, he put his fingers down the back of my pants. He said he was just trying to hold on to me so he wouldn’t lose me. I was shaken and don’t remember anything about my next classes except frantically biting my fingernails. It happened again in the following days, until finally I grabbed his arm, yanking his fingers out of my pants, and I pushed him away. He acted as though he didn’t know what he’d done wrong and I had no reason to be upset. • My high school boyfriend would sometimes whip his penis out in stairwells at school or on the school bus, expecting me to give him a hand-job. I did, because I thought I had to since I was his girlfriend. I didn’t like doing it in public though. • When I was a junior, a couple of senior guys catcalled me on the way to class and I ignored them. They treated me like I was uptight and cruel for the rest of the semester. • Once, during class, a couple of guys told me I had “DSL.” When I asked what that was, they said, “Dick-sucking lips.” • At lunch one time, I added a packet of flavor powder to my water bottle and began to shake it. My lunch table, all boys, erupted into laughter. One of the boys, my boyfriend, told me that the way I was shaking the bottle looked like I was giving a hand-job. I didn’t know any other way to shake a bottle. • At homecoming, I was approached by a boy who asked to dance with me. I started grinding on him, because that’s how everyone was dancing. I could feel him getting a hard-on and he groped me while we danced. I didn’t make a big deal about it because I figured that was what would happen when you danced like that. • Once, while talking to my crush, a couple of his friends who were sitting nearby started talking about my breasts and looking through a water bottle at them, to magnify my cleavage, I guess. I heard, “You can always see them.” It made me feel embarrassed because I was very obviously within earshot. My crush didn’t make any indication that he’d heard or cared. • The summer after high school, I lost my virginity when I was raped by a guy with whom I’d been on a date and was friends. Afterwards he told me not to tell anyone. A few days later, I saw on Facebook that he’d started dating another girl. I was in denial about what happened and victim-blamed myself; it took me awhile to understand that I’d actually been raped. The next several months were very traumatic for me, characterized by feelings of guilt, anxiety, depression, disordered eating, insomnia, and even self-harm. Later I found out that I wasn’t the only one he’d raped or sexually assaulted. I talked to his high school girlfriend, and she encouraged me to go to the police like she had. Unfortunately, we both went too late for rape kits to be collected, and they only had our testimonies. I didn’t think we stood a chance if it came to our word against his, especially since he’d been a football player in high school and was known in the community. I didn’t want to endure the strain of a trial, and I didn’t want my family to have to either—especially because I didn’t tell them about what happened. They still don’t know. University • Told by an athlete, “Let’s see you smile!” as I was walking to class. • A group of fraternity guys were tabling outside the Student Union and shouted at me to ask if I wanted to buy tickets to some function. I ignored them, so they continued to shout at me, saying things like, “Are you depressed? Why are you so sad?” while laughing. • At a bar near campus, a guy approached me and said something about how I was pretty but he wanted to see me smile. He placed his hand on my thigh as he said so. I told him firmly, “Don’t touch me.” He put his hand on my thigh again as he leaned in to ask, “Sorry, what did you say?” I repeated myself even more forcefully: “Don’t touch me.” He pulled a face and threw up him hands in an exaggerated “my bad” gesture and walked away, like he was the injured party and I was humorless and uptight. • When I was studying abroad in Madrid, I went out one night to a nightclub with my friends. We got separated, so I decided to walk home alone, even though I was terribly drunk and had already been sick in the bathroom. As I was walking down the sidewalk, I was approached by an older man. He grabbed my butt as he passed me and whispered “guapa” in my ear. I kept going and tried not to think about it, but he must’ve circled around the block, because I saw him again and he repeated his previous actions. I didn’t like that it happened (not to mention twice), but I was relieved that I got home safely and nothing more had occurred. I told myself that it could’ve been much worse. • In my Masters program (for secondary education), we were having group discussions. A question was posed: “Are boys and girls educated differently?” I was in a group with 3 men—2 of whom specialized in STEM subjects—and after I gave my opinion, they admitted that they’d never considered that girls might be educated differently. They were like, “Huh.” At least they started thinking about this before becoming licensed teachers. In the Church • As a member of a non-denominational youth group at a church in the Bible Belt, I once sat through a horribly sexist sermon. The pastor put items on a table at the front; among them were nail polish, a football helmet, an iron, and a Barbie doll. He invited two volunteers—a boy and a girl—to come up and divide the items into the categories of “boy” and “girl,” while the audience was allowed to shout out their suggestions. Of course, the football helmet went to the “boy” side of the table, and the nail polish, the Barbie, and the iron went to the “girl” side. That was the first time I started having second thoughts about the Church. • As a senior in high school, I went to my church’s fall retreat. Prior to the trip, we girls were made aware of the unofficial dress code by female youth leaders. We couldn’t wear “those kind of shorts that show your underwear” (they were referring to Nike running shorts, which have liners); we’d have to wear leggings or long spandex shorts under any short shorts we wanted to wear. Bathing suits had to be one-pieces or tankinis, and if we wore bikinis, we’d have to wear non-white shirts over them. It was so weirdly specific. We were told that classic church cliche, that we had to protect the boys’ hearts and minds. “The retreat is for them too,” one youth leader said. But not for us girls? I thought. We don’t get to relax. Instead we have to be on guard 24/7. A lot of the time, this is what it’s like to be a woman or girl in the Church. You come in second to the men and boys. While biking • I was with a friend and we saw a two male cyclists riding towards us on the trail. My friend was about to greet them (as she does with everyone when she’s biking) when they wolf-whistled at us. So instead, we flipped them off. • Another time, while biking with the same friend, she was almost run off the road when two male cyclists rode towards us. One was in our lane and refused to move over, even though there was no way he didn’t see us. We both stopped, because she was stunned; I was mad, though. “Dude, what the heck,” I yelled, while raising my arms in confusion. Both male cyclists ignored me and kept riding. • I was making my way home after a ride when an older man sitting on his porch shouted sexual comments about my body (specifically my butt and legs) at me. It left me embarrassed, scared, and angry—enough to diminish all my feelings of accomplishment following a 20-mile ride. At work • In college I worked at a fast food restaurant. Men (much older than me) who worked in the kitchen would make disgusting sexual and sexist comments about me. Often I and/or my managers were within earshot. I could’ve complained or called HR, but I knew that because of the industry I was in, my complaints would’ve been futile. • I worked for a salsa company for a short time and occasionally served samples at my local Whole Foods. Once, while sampling a cranberry-orange salsa, I got mansplained by a guy who asked, “Is this really a salsa though? I feel like at a certain point it’s just a fruit spread.” Here, I felt stuck because the first rule of retail is The Customer Is Always Right, but I also wanted to defend the product. So I said politely, “Well, the first ingredient listed is tomatoes, and it also contains chili powder, red peppers, and jalapenos.” He responded, “Yeah, but is it really a salsa?” I told him, “It says ‘salsa’ on the label…” He said, “Yeah, but I feel like there’s only so many ways to make salsa,” before walking away. I should point out that this guy was a gringo—white. And I’m part Mexican. I know salsa. At the gynecologist • I’d heard the “born-again virgin” message plenty from the Church, and while I didn’t necessarily love the Christian ideology behind it, I liked that the concept was shared in other circles and communities. It seemed very feminist and empowering, for women and survivors of all genders, not to have to claim their rape as a meaningful part of their sex life or history. I liked the fact that it didn’t have to matter. Except it does, as I found out the first time I went to the gynecologist and had to fill out forms, listing the number of sexual partners I’d had and the age at which I’d become sexually active. As much as you might like to, you can’t ever really forget, or deny, the non-consensual sex to which you were subjected. You’re forced to remember and acknowledge it, and if you’ve been trying to forget it, you’re made to feel like you bought into a lie. • I’m queer and have sex with men and women. The last time I was at the gyno, the (female) doctor asked me, “When was the last time you had sex?” After a moment of hesitation from both of us, she followed with, “Or rather, the last time you were penetrated with a penis?” It was very blunt and it felt like an insult to who I am and to queer woman/folks everywhere, as though the ways we have sex aren’t valid. Double discrimination • I stopped telling people I was “bi” because all too often it resulted in men assuming things about me or thinking far too much about my sex life. Once, my then-boyfriend told one of his friends that I was bi. The friend just looked at me for a moment before exclaiming, “What are you doing with him then?!” I felt like responding that the definition of “bi” implies that I can be with a man or woman, but I didn’t say anything. A lot of people think that bisexual women are promiscuous, or they idealize us and imagine that we’re constantly having sex with really hot women (our friends) or having threesomes (two women, one man, of course). That’s how it’s portrayed in shows and movies and porn, anyway. I didn’t like constantly having to explain my sexual orientation or, when I was in a relationship, justifying my choice of partner. If I have a partner, I’m loyal to them. Does anything else really matter? Should anything about our relationship matter to anyone besides us? No. • When I was at a party in college, I started kissing this girl I liked. These frat guys came over and saw us, and they started hooting and shouting and trying to film us on their phones. I flipped them off, because it wasn’t a show for them. • Once, I was at a pool party and this guy I didn’t know kept trying to hit on me and put his arm around me. There were some girls (who I knew were gay) on the other side of the pool, so I swam over to them, hoping the guy would get the hint. Later, when I was kissing one of the girls, he came over and said, “Ugh, can you guys stop being so hot?” The girl I was with replied, “Nope!” • I was at a bar with a guy friend and we were waiting to order. The bartender was a really gorgeous Asian girl and I mentioned to my friend, “She’s really pretty!” My friend thought I was hinting at him (I wasn’t) and said, “Chinky girls don’t do it for me.” I was appalled; for one, because of his use of a slur, and for two, because I am part Filipino. I told him, “I’m Asian,” and he responded, “No, you’re not.” I was even more shocked, and we argued like this (“Yes, I am.” “No, you’re not.”) for maybe 30 seconds. Finally he said, “You’re cute, but I’m just not into chinky girls.” I was insulted and angered. It’s not “just a preference” when it’s racist, and telling a woman that she doesn’t know her own ethnicity and culture is mansplaining at its worst. • I speak Spanish and French—it’s part of my heritage. Usually when guys discover this, though, they’re like, “Ooh, you should teach me [Spanish/French]” or “We should hang out so I can practice with you.” Like, no, I’m not here so you can profit from my culture. Tinder • In Spain, a guy messaged me, “Hola, te apetece un poco de sexo conmigo?” Right off the bat. • A guy messaged me on Facebook, saying that he saw me on Tinder and was messaging me on Facebook on the off chance that we didn’t match. Dude. If we don’t match, that should tell you something. • A guy messaged me a Harry Potter pickup line. I responded with, “Harry Potter’s the way to my heart tbh.” He replied, “So let’s fuck.” I sent back, “*disapparates*”. (One of my better comebacks.) • A guy messaged me with the pickup line, “Hey, I’ll treat you like a Christmas snowstorm, I’ll give you 7 and a half inches and make it mildly inconvenient for you to move in the morning.” Um, ouch. • A guy messaged me, “You’re bi? I asked, “What does it matter?” He said, “It doesn’t.” (…So why ask then?) • A guy messaged me, “Although you have a cat in your pic I’m willing to look past that if you’re willing to look past the fact that I don’t like cats.” I didn’t reply, and a day later he said, “So I’m gonna be honest… I swiped right cause I want someone to practice Spanish w/ and I’m down to learn french [sic].” • I had in my bio (among other sentences perhaps too articulate for Tinder), “I speak Spanish and French.” So many guys messaged me to ask, “So do you speak English too?” Like, clearly I’m smart, so they have to dumb me down a little bit. • Once, my bio said something like, “Only here for free beer.” A guy messaged me to say, “I can give you free gum.” I replied, “I have gum.” So he sent back, “I can give you a hard dick and cheerios.” • I added a guy from Tinder on Snapchat. We didn’t live in the same country and hadn’t even spoken on either app in ages. One day I got a snap from him and opened it to see a picture of his penis ejaculating. I blocked him immediately, but still felt gross and violated afterward. Tumblr • I posted a picture of myself in a bra on my blog. A guy I knew in real life happened to be following me and took a screenshot, then posted it on his Twitter along with some sort of snarky comment. I heard about it from friends who saw the post. I wasn’t ashamed about the picture; I was ashamed because he’d done it without my knowledge or consent. • I posted a GIF of myself sticking out my tongue. A guy reblogged it with the comment, “I want to come in your mouth.” I blocked him, and deleted the GIF too. The whole thing made me feel disgusted and disgusting.

Laura

You patted me on the head, said I was cute, chucked me in the cleft of my chin, and patted my head again. We were standing in a church when you did this. Would it have been worse if it had been night and the church deserted? No, it was worse that it was 12:30 pm and the church was filled with people chatting away. You asked me how old I was, “22?” with your godawful smile of yellow teeth, and I could have said, “Excuse me?” and given you the look that frightened away the middle-schoolers at the playground two months ago. I could have said, “I’m 30,” and walked away with my face blank and proud. I could have said, “What a rude question. How old are you?” and waited to hear your sadly bewildered answer. I could have said what I’ve taught my son to say when he does not like something: “No, thank you.” But I betrayed myself, my son, my daughters who have yet to be born, my religion, and my gender because I laughed stupidly and said, “No. No.” I smiled a smile disgusting in its obsequiousness and shook my head. I glanced around at the people nearby. Not one of them came to my rescue. You introduced me to your daughter who was there talking with friends. She smiled at me but I want there to have been a nausea beneath the smile: ‘Oh, my father; he is such a pervert.’ You said, “All these young girls, and they’re all so pretty!” I lied and told you that my son, who had said nothing, had asked for his daddy, and I walked back to the other end of the church, to my husband’s side, where you would never speak to me in that way. Why was I paralyzed and why do I blame myself? Is it because you and my son share the same name? Is it because I am a friendly young evangelical woman who looks ripe for the picking, who would never make a fuss if untoward words were said? That’s not how we behave in church, dear; that’s not the way we conduct ourselves. It is because you are an elder in the church? Or is that why you acted so boldly, approaching a group of women who were not speaking to you but to each other, while our husbands were on the other side of the church? My worst betrayal has not yet happened. It is that I will not leave this church. I will probably attend for as long as we live here. It would take a small rockslide of wrongs to make me consider leaving, and that is my greatest shame.

In a student church discussion about dating and relationships, girls were told to be careful what they wear to church so not to distract the boys during worship?! Women were told to cover up and think about how much make up they wore on Sunday so to “honour your brothers and sisters in faith”. It was told to 200+ students by a female student leader so disappointing- especially hearing many male students agreeing with her! Surely the point to make is why are guys checking out girls during worship, rather than focusing on God?! Also why must females honour but no emphasis on males honouring women? Forever blaming women 🙁