Obviously, You're Not Talking About Me

This wasn't going to be today's blog post, but I am too aggravated to not comment on it, and I'm the only person at The Factory who is in the office today, so there is no one with whom to have a conversation.

Today's Salt Lake Tribune ran the following article: "Who Will Replace Faust as Counselor to LDS President Hinckley?"

Obviously a slow news day, even for Salt Lake City, given the fact that it's not like anyone is out there truly obsessing over it, nor is it like choosing the next Pope - with clandestine meetings and smoke signals and large crowds waiting outside. The article gives an interesting history of succession and some tidbits about the lives of "potential candidates." There, lying in the article, is one explosive sentence: "There is only one rule for choosing a member of the First Presidency: no women." Not exactly true, but guaranteed to keep people talking about the article while the Trib thinks of something else to be newsworthy.

It's The Frontier, what can one expect?

Knowing that the comments section is ALWAYS full of ridiculous fodder, I was still dumb enough to actually read them. All was fine, just benign observations until I read this:

There can be no women because, regardless of what Mormon men say about women being being "special" because of their ability to "give life" the life of a Mormon woman is ultimately one of subservience. It might not seem that way to them, and it might not be the general goal. But it's so much a part of the Mormon culture that it's become second nature. Regardless of how smart or how "good" a woman is, she's told that she cannot reach the kingdom of heaven without a man. Anyone with critical thinking skills is just not going to buy that for very long.

And that's when my blood pressure rose and Baby Girl kicked me in the ribs, not because it disagrees with my whole outlook on life, but because it is so patently untrue - at least for this woman.

My favorite, chuckling, moment came with the phrase, "It might not seem that way to them." It certainly makes me happy that someone is so dilligently looking out for my welfare by insulting my intelligence - assuming that I'm not smart enough to figure out my sation in life. Again, my intellect is insulted when the author continues, "anyone with critical thinking skills is just not going to buy that for very long." I'm not even going to go there. I'm not sure I'm smart enough.

For me, my religion is a way of living, but that certainly doesn't mean that I signed a form waiving my right to have my own thoughts, opinions and agency to live. And I consider myself reasonably intelligent - I'm no nuclear physicist, but I can hold my own in intellectual conversations, when given the chance (and when not pregnant - Baby Girl is slurping up my brain cells with every week gone by).

I had to laugh though - I wanted to tell Anonymous that he or she should speak to Himself regarding my subservience. Ask HIM what kind of trodden-down, always-defer-to-you, eyes-cast-downward woman he married. I daresay Himself would die laughing before he'd even be able to describe how (for better or worse - not always proud of how my fiercely independent streak manifests itself) his wife is pretty opinionated and isn't afraid to let him know how she feels.

He would also tell them how I supported him financially and emotionally through two bachelors degrees and a startling number of career paths. Then would come the bragging (it is really embarrassing) about my career, what I've done, and how smart I am. And how I'm the best cook he knows. And that someday, life events willing, I really want to go back to school for my Master's. I know, because I've heard him. Many times.

Then would come the discourse on proving that I couldn't possibly be mistaken for subservient, because I make HIM mop the floor, pick up his own clothes and make him check is own pockets before clothes go into the laundry (resulting in two ink explosions, a bad experience with an entire package of gum and several billion tissue particles he had to pick off his scrubs - you would think one of us would learn!). He would explain how I am a horrible housekeeper and would rather adventure than clean. He would tell them that I said "No you may not visit your father 3 hours away," when he proposed the idea (twice) 3 1/2 weeks before I was ready to give birth, and then proceeded to tell him that if he thought it was a good idea, then I was capable of making his life more miserable than any ex-wife ever would (prompting both of us to dissolve into laughter).

He would say that just because he doesn't want to do something, doesn't mean I forgo it msyelf. He'll remind them that I comfortably go to art museums and the opera by myself because he doesn't enjoy going, and I'm not sitting home hoping he'll change his mind.

He would comment how, even though I get up before him and he leaves later than I do, I don't ever cook him breakfast, except on the weekends, because mornings are "my time." He would let them know that I come home from work every night and cook dinner because I LOVE to cook, not because I think I should be expected to. He would make sure they knew that I ruled the checkbook with an iron fist (or try to), that he has to pack his own lunch, that he has two dress shirts that go to the cleaners because I don't iron, that I don't sew, loathe crafts, use my maiden name in conjunction with my married name because I love it more than I love my first name, had the nerve to tell my mother I didn't want children at one point and instigated a campaign against a senior-level executive at a former company for sexist behavior and treatment. He would also continue with how if you ask for my opinion, you'll probably get it, even if you disagree with me (and that he doesn't even have to ask - he just gets it unsolicited!).

Lest I paint myself as an inept, horrible hag, I have to say he would also say that I am fiercely loyal and will defend him to the ends of the earth, that I have my own unique way of showing love, that I am head-over-heels in love with both Baby Girl and her father and secretly loathe the fact that my primary mission this month is to find someone else to love her while I'm at work. He will also say that my family is the most important thing on earth to me, and that I would give everything up to save any one of them.

Maybe that is what makes me subservient. If it is, go head and call me that. I won't even disagree.

(And, for the record, I'd like to point out to Anonymous that men cannot make it to the kingdom of heaven without a woman, either. We're pretty much all in this together).