Oh, How She Loves Us

If you think I'm talking about a God other than yours when I talk about 'Her'... well, maybe I am.
--

When the administration of my crazy, liberal, hippie Seminary first told me that distinctly male language about God would be considered bigoted on our campus, I personally felt attacked. I'd spent my whole life thinking about God as my Papa, my Abba; I'd spent my whole life dancing on His feet in the traditional Daddy-daughter fashion. Of course I knew this was a grand metaphor-- that God doesn't actually have a penis, or a hairy chest-- but it was a metaphor that I liked.

And a few years and crises of faith later, I still do.

The image of God the Father, God the King, God the Strong Man, is a beautiful one. It should be cherished, celebrated, remembered. But do you really understand that the male-god is a blessed metaphor and not a fact? Here's my litmus test:

She is jealous for me
Loves like a hurricane,
I am a tree
Bending beneath the weight 
of Her wind and mercy...
We are Her portion, 
and She is our prize,
drawn to redemption 
by the grace in Her eyes... 

Is your skin crawling yet? If so, why is that?

When I truly released my deep-seated belief that God is, in any meaningful way, a dude, there was such a sweet wave of freedom to explore the multi-faceted parts of God's personality. God was 'assigned male' by many who experienced God throughout history. But God is female to the exact same purely-analogical extent that God is male. But both are such blessed metaphors!

We need to know that God is also our mother. That She protects, and She nurtures. She is strength and beauty. She embodies grace not just in the sense of forgiveness, but in the sense of slipping effortlessly through our world and turning everything magic as She does it.

And Jesus could have just as easily made God manifest to us as a female.

Let that sink in: Jesus' maleness is entirely incidental.

(Or, at best, necessary only because of a limited moment in culture.)

There is nothing particularly holy about Jesus' maleness.  And there is nothing particularly unholy about my femaleness. My femaleness does not separate me from God in any way. My femaleness reflects God's identity in the exact same way that Jesus' maleness reflected God's identity. 

If this is not true about your God, then unfortunately I can't confidently say we're sitting at the feet of the same One. I used to sit there with you, with the male-God. God honored my limitation and spoke to me anyway, and when I listened, She called me past the metaphors and freed me to use more of them. Do you hear Her calling now?

In Sunday worship, I sing God's femaleness-- quiet and strong, like God is. Every 'her' feels sweetly holy in my mouth. And when 'She' joins 'He' in the echo of our voices, the harmony is gorgeous.

Maybe you'll join me in restoring the balance.

Dumpy, Stumpy, Frumpy (CW+ Challenge #1)

Looking for something fun to do this weekend? I sure am. Hence, the inaugural Creative Writing Plus (CW+) Challenge. Send me some great responses by Sunday at midnight. Best-ofs will be featured here and/or on Facebook unless you request otherwise.

THE CHALLENGE: Explain to me the subtle but important difference between Dumpy, Stumpy, and Frumpy. If you send me screenshots of the definitions, I will shun you forever. Give me word pictures, creative explorations, mini-multimedia presentations.

Scoring: Completely subjective and measured by the spectrum of visible light. (Up to 10 nm may be added to or subtracted from your score for including Bernie Sanders in your explanations.)

Limits: 100-1000 words, three images, AND/OR three minutes of video TOTAL.

Submissions: elyaddison@gmail.com or Facebook private messaging by Sunday 9/27/15 at 11:59 pm.

Story and Soccer

I don't always watch sports, but when I do... I'm still a total, unabashed humanities nerd.

So as I watched a friend play in a local pickup soccer game (from under a nearby tree, with a flower in my hair, peeking over the top of my latest Summer read...), the thing that most intrigued me wasn't the score or even the (impressive) athletic chops of the players, but the humanness of what was happening on the field.

And here's what I observed: to really enjoy the game, I could watch it like I'd watch/read a story.

In a story, there's this objective-- this thing that either moves or doesn't move toward the goal. That's the plot. That's the progress of the soccer ball across the field, the score.

But if you're like me, you don't read for plot. You read for characters. The real concern, the thing of interest, is not where the ball is or where it's going, but the people who are making it move-- how they come together (or don't) to make it move (or not). You only identify with the outcome/score/ending because you've identified with the characters and the way they care (or don't) about the outcome.

In this game, there were some characters: Snarky Ponytail Guy, Past-His-Prime-But-Still-Unbelievably-Egotistical Guy, Insuppressably Tenacious Guy, and though the role changed, there was usually someone willing to be the much-needed Comic Relief. The way they came together--often collided-- provided the real drama.

Since I was there for a friend, I had a perspective, a point of view, and I could celebrate and wince in pain with him. I also knew who my villains were-- what was standing in the way of our goal. This why people ally with teams, isn't it?

I think, though, that I prefer to do the work of adopting multiple perspectives. A skilled story-maker can go close-third-person with multiple characters-- and sometimes make you feel kinda slimy for identifying with That One. I think it's easier to enjoy the art of what's happening if your only measure of success isn't whether Your Guy or Your Team gets what they want. You can admire the collaboration of the other team-- even if they are kind of assholes.

I think the players would agree with this last bit. I think so because I didn't see or hear anyone keeping score. This game was more about how they could develop as individuals and teammates-- the soccer ball was just a means to the end, something to come together around and work with. A context for the drama.

It's very human, this sportsy stuff.  

Someone Else's Problem: When it's Really, Legitimately, Not Your Turn To Help

Last night in downtown Los Angeles, a stranger tried to help me.

I was pacing anxious figure-eights around the two posts of my bus stop as night fell. I was getting chilled in my knee-length dress, getting annoyed that I'd been delayed in getting back to my arguably-less-safe-but-definitely-less-chaotic suburb of Pomona, California. And someone noticed. Someone looked at me, and, showing all the sincerity of a father, asked me, “Are you all right?”

I wish I could say I appreciated him asking, because I truly believe that he meant well. But I couldn't appreciate it. I couldn't appreciate it because it wasn't appropriate; it didn't work; it was completely out of place. Because this person was literally a large, bearded, middle aged stranger in a white van. My annoyance wasn't an emergency; I didn't need an unlikely hero; there was absolutely nothing he could have done to make me feel or be more safe and well.

Social location means where you're at in the map of society. It involves your identity, your power, your insider/outsider status, the prejudices people apply to you, and the advantages and disadvantages passed on from your family. In our encounter, my would-be knight's social location involved the power advantage of being in a car, his maleness in a culture influenced by both shining-armor myths and rape mentality, and his lack of any previous relationship to me. He probably didn't do that math.

When we lose track of our social location, a lot of weird, creepy, counterproductive things happen. Tourism becomes re-colonization. NAACP chapters end up with mostly-white leadership. People can't interpret or learn from rejection because they don't know why their good intentions aren't enough.

Good intentions aren't enough. Being part of the world we want and need involves deeply, thoughtfully, intentionally good intentions, intentions that keep their eyes open and self-reflect, intentions that leave you room to imagine what it's really like to receive the 'help' that you want to give. And if your intentions to be helpful won't result in actual, healthy help, well... you need to control yourself.

Deeply, thoughfully, intentionally good intentions would have compelled the man to imagine what it's like to be honked, pointed, and spoken at by a stranger while waiting alone at a bus stop. Deeply good intentions might have called me to imagine how my international 'missions' might have jilted my Ecuadorian friends out of opportunities for in-community care, how they might have reinforced weird myths about White Americans. Deeply, thoughtfully good intentions might have led me to bring a few less coddly, indulgent care packages to my friend in his rehab program, when what he really needed was space. They might have resulted in stepping back from a thousand different wrong-times-to-help.

This doesn't mean ignoring. It's sometimes totally appropriate to point a distressed person to resources, to ask a friend in a more accessible social location to get involved, or to keep the situation in your peripherals to see if it escalates. It doesn't mean you don't care. In fact, it means that you do.

So, random van guy in LA, I must say I appreciate you thinking of me. Just... try to think a little more clearly next time.  

Notes from the FriendZone

It happened again this week: not just one, but TWO perfectly wonderful flirtationships in my life were abruptly checked by that magical word, friend. I'm not surprised or upset, really-- I quite like being friends. But as a somewhat awkward young woman, it gets a little discouraging to be so consistently reminded that I don't interest the average person as a romantic partner, no matter how much they love and respect me. I'm not saying this for pity, but because I think a lot of people, especially my fellow Autistic Spectrum surfers, feel this-- and might benefit from it being stated outright: It is actually, legitimately, a frustrating situation.

It wasn't until recently that I realized that the term 'friendzone' has become gender-specific, let alone offensive. What's the problem with recognizing that your affections aren't being returned-- with naming that disappointment? And doesn't everyone experience this at least sometimes?

Well, yes. I think we do, and I think the word is still quite useful. But we don't all experience it the same-- or respond the same way. If you're using the concept to justify thinking or saying terrible things about a person or entire gender who doesn't seem interested, you're doing it wrong. And believe me-- there are times when I have. But lately I've come to deeply appreciate the fact that nobody is entitled to anyone else's affection. Mutual attraction is pretty rare (especially among weirdos!), and it's also kind of arbitrary. If it's not there, it's not there.* There's no need to be ashamed or defensive if you bring the question to the surface and the answer is no, or if the flirtation doesn't work past a certain point of seriousness. It's not a mistake-- it's just new information.

As cheesy as it sounds, I think the best response to being consistently FriendZoned is focusing on personal growth and staying open to new possibilities. Anyone can be a good, valuable person without being 'attractive', but I believe that personal health, maturity, and reflective insight are essentially attractive qualities in the deepest sense. A series of 'no's from potential partners might provide an opportunity to reflect on ways that you can grow as a person-- not to impress anyone in particular, but so that you can enjoy your own company more, and be better prepared to contribute to whatever relationships may come.

And those opportunities will come. Every person is so startlingly different that you just can't write yourself off as 'undateable' or 'undesirable'. If you need 24 hours of self-pity, go ahead. But at some point you gotta scrape yourself out of the bottom of the Ben&Jerry's carton and keep being a great friend to people. Be realistic-- not too positive or negative-- about the cues that people are sending you. And take your time. The FriendZone isn't a prison, and we don't need to be so eager to get out just for the sake of getting out. It's a meeting place. And even though it's not always fun, I'm really thankful for everyone I've met here.

*There's no law of the universe that says that interest can't grow over time, but hope is a nasty beast. If you can't enjoy the friendship as a friendship, it may be easier just to duck out of there entirely. Just make sure the person knows your motivation for disappearing if that's what you need to do. 

"Take Me To Church": Seduction: Worship, and Spiritual Suicide (A Review)

When I started to fall in love with British artist Hozier's first mega-hit, I had to take a minute to seriously consider the possibility that I was adding to the moral corruption of my generation. I mean, how could a song sounds so delicious, intermingle sexual and religious themes, and NOT be straight out of Hades? The lyrics are, in a word, irreverent (or rather, differently-reverent), and I'm sure that in some cases it's encouraged unhealth in peoples' lives in minds-- in other words, I'm sure the song's popular embrace is at least partly based in all the interpretations of the song which it might be false. But because it is art, and especially good art, there are a LOT of interpretations of the song-- and I'm free to love it for all the interpretations which might be true.
I already said it's good art-- I'll raise the bar and argue that it's aesthetically true. The melody and other sound elements embody the visceral ache of devotion much better than most songs about devotion that I've heard recently. It's difficult to lift up the notes of the song without entering into the emotional space its lyrics put forth. And that might be exactly why some are wary of it-- what headspace are we entering? Are we bowing down before the altar of sex when we sing this song?
Sort of. You can't read the lyrics of the song without being struck by the transference of worship language to sexual themes. I'd hate to cause a sensation (especially among those who know me as a Christian on the Asexual Spectrum), but this sexy spirituality itself doesn't bother me in the least. Nature-- even and especially sex-- is overflowing with spirituality, even divinity. John Muir is attributed as saying, “I'd rather be in the mountains thinking about God, than in church thinking about the mountains.”  Maybe this narrator is just … admiring a different peak.
So if Hozier('s narrator character) was really disconnecting from religion because sex provided an alternative spiritual experience, that would be simple. But look at the lyrics again: Sex, personified as the narrator's goddess-priestess-lover, doesn't seem to providing spiritual fulfillment either. The 'Church' (sex) to which he's begging to go is pleasing and feels somehow 'ultimate', sure, but it's also dishonest and demanding, masochistic at best and cannibalistic at worst. The journey plays out a “sad earthly scene” that seems to humble everyone, especially “masters and kings”-- this goddess seems to eat the colloquial 'high horse' and leave its own rider to starve. He adopts the general feeling that this is a sickness, but of course, he loves it: sex may or may not be true, but it's the truest thing he has-- or the truest thing that has him. The attitude, in this interpretation, is more of a resigned hedonism in the face of inevitability than a freely-committed worship.
So Hozier's song places sex in the role of this huge, powerful force that makes humanity weak at the knees and bends our identity toward itself with its offer of self-serving pleasure. But the intermingling of religious imagery speaks, to me, about the reality that religious devotion so often plays this twisted role too. (If you're skeptical, just see if you can distinguish C-Pop lyrics from lines from 50 Shades.) As Christians, we have to confess that we've too often offered this same creepy, self-immolating adoration to God and the Church, propagating the toxic attitude that willfully strangling the spirit could ever be a good or redemptive thing to do. This posturing speaks to a deep suicidal impulse in humanity that leads us to throw our own souls onto any fire we can find-- sex, religion, drugs, mob mentalities, persistent delusions-- anything to feel the sweet release of draining ourselves of the responsibility of identity. Maybe this is the original sin, or our subconscious guilt response to it.
  The God I know does not want, is not jealous for, this kind of worship that subsumes the worshipper into the object of adoration. God is absolutely rooting for us to live into our full identities and not throw ourselves away-- especially to 'him'. How painful for the parent to hear the 'faithful' son say, "I slaved for you"-- as if we didn't know that everything God has is ours. This son was more 'prodigal' than the other. So far as this song is about the overpowering impulse to adoration in sex and religion, it is absolutely true-- except that it is hopeless. And I'm not suggesting that Hozier croon 'If only I had Jesus!" as a tacked-on refrain, or change the 'amen' to a 'Hosanna'-- though in the Christian Music Industry that dishonest and anti-artistic rubbish is standard practice. The narrator is painting a beautiful picture of the complexities of self-entrapment while still trapped. We have to let the song be that. When we enter into the song, we have to enter into a space of hopelessness, because that is the honest human experience of subsuming adoration. None of us is better than that or wiser than that wild blindness; it just manifests itself differently in different lives, and we have to remember that with humility and appreciation and connect to this artist in that space.
   But we don't have to stay there forever. The beautiful thing about art of any kind is that it allows for both experience and reflection. And upon reflection, we can honestly say that we are not destined for this joyful suicide-- that the pulse of life beats defiant against the draw of death. God does will for us to have Life Abundant-- faith and sex and imagination and community that are healthy, life-affirming, supremely humanizing, and offered in free will. It's a whole life that we can admire like John Muir admired the mountains-- with genuine reverence for all its diverse, organic chaos, and with freedom from compulsion and self-loathing. Amen. Amen. Amen.

~ ~ ~

Afterword: The Music Video. Ok, the music video was a huge part of this song's global success, so even though it's under no obligation to be thematically linked to the lyrics, it's worth considering here. The heart-and-tear-wrenching video depicts two lovers being torn apart by a violent homophobic 'community' group in Russia. This is based on an actual current trend, and it might be happening to a real couple even as you read this. The groups are not religious, but may be backed by certain religious sentiments. Hozier actually did an interview explaining the video's link to his personal views that no religious or other human system should constrict or demonize what is most beautiful about life. This overpowering hateful groupthink, rather than sex, has become the enslaving 'church' in the video: the actual sexual relationship is depicted as innocent and beautiful; while the murderers that adopt the dark overtones of senseless identity-erasing commitment described in the song. A confusing role reversal, but one that confirms the deeper issue.

Seven Secret Strengths of High-Functioning Autistic People

This article is an ode to us. It’s for anyone who considers themselves a High-Functioning Autistic (HFA) person or an ‘Aspie’ (Asperger Syndrome is one specific disorder that's on the high-functioning end of the Autism Spectrum). It’s also for the folks who are lucky enough to make up our families and circles of friends. We ‘Spectrum Surfers’ have plenty of opportunities to reflect on our challenges-- it’s about time we focused a little more on how kick-ass we really are. 

So, here are a few of the things that many HFA people are really freaking good at:

1. Social Learning
Society seems to have gotten the cockamamy impression that we Spectrum Surfers are ‘socially slow’. Are you kidding me? Most of us started out with a completely empty social tool kit. Ask us-- most of us have warm fuzzy childhood stories of spitting on our friends, throwing chairs at teachers, or hiding under our parents’ work desk for hours on end. The fact that so many of us have ‘caught up’ so much is a testament to our amazing ability to learn. It’s like communication itself is a second language that we’re constantly having to translate ourselves into, and that takes an absurd amount of smarts.

2. Compassion
The stereotypical portrayal of autistic people as cold and unfeeling is, for the most part, a big load of poppycock. Many of us have trouble fluidly communicating the standard ‘I care’ cues (eye contact, tone of voice, etc.), but we actually ‘co-suffer’ a LOT-- according to one study, maybe TOO much, so that we shut down in self-defense. Once we can learn to maintain emotional boundaries, though, we can beautifully live into our identities as keenly sensitive individuals, and our insights into the emotional environments of spaces can be a great contribution to group settings. 

3. Integrity
When you live inside your head as much as HFA people do, cognitive dissonance is not really an option. That means we tend to be really freaking honest (and often bad liars when we try!). We also really stick to our guns-- we will not budge when we’ve made up our minds. If we don’t ‘do’ hugs, you’re not getting one! Want us to help you cheat? Nyu-uh! Usually by adulthood, we know exactly who we are and what we stand for. 

4. Getting Shit Done
Many of us HFA’s tend to be what I call ‘Hyperfunctional’. We really love it when a plan comes together, and we will work to the point of obsession to see a project through to completion. We often have only very specific but intense interests, but we often follow those interests through to full mastery. Some of us thrive on collaborative projects with specific direction, while others work best when we’re generating our own ideas and projects. Whatever the case, when we set our minds to something, there’s not a lot that can stop us. 

5. Super-Sensing
Many AS people perceive senses differently-- our taste buds, etc, are not physically different, but our unique brains often focus on them differently, sometimes heightening our perceptions to intense levels. On the one hand, it can be pretty hard to function when your perception of touch (/hearing/sight/smell/taste) is turned up about a thousand percent. On the other hand, it’s kind of a freaking super power. For example, I’m often surprised to learn that I was the only one in the room who was aware of something exciting going on within earshot outside. That’s why it is really hard to sneak up on some of us-- and if you do, be warned! We may freak out (or punch you!)-- we are so not used to that happening. 

6. Arts, Music, and Technical Skills
Social communication is tough for us, but we aren’t some alien species who simply don’t need to communicate! That’s why so many of us turn to the visual arts, writing, music, and technical creation, all of which can fill an aching need in our soul to translate our inner worlds and visions outside of ourselves. In these slower forms of communication, we have time to be intentional with our expression. Developing a talent also serves a very specific social function in that it often helps other people to understand us as 'able' and take us more seriously than they might otherwise. (Allies can help us out by noticing our talents, but also seeing past them to appreciate our full personhood!)

7. Partnership
Starting and maintaining intimate relationships, platonic or romantic, can be really hard for us, and we each need a partner who is a good fit and has a lot of grace for us. However, for all the reasons listed above and a thousand more, if you have landed yourself a best friend on the Autistic Spectrum, you can bet we will be stellar confidantes, helpers, motivators, and life-mates. And if your lover is AS, you know it’s worth every second of wishing we had any idea how to flirt or carefully navigating our often-unique sexual identities. Because most of us don’t do anything halfway-- especially loving.

Did I miss some? Overstate some? Completely misrepresent some? Let me know in the squawk box below! 

Note: These generalizations are given as a starting point, not a definite map of every HFA’s skill set. I also use a lot of terms to refer to people on the Autistic Spectrum. As with all identity issues, you should refer to people in the vocabulary that they use to describe themselves. 

Note II: this article has almost nothing to do with Savantism. It’s very rare for anyone to have Savant-level genius, and it’s been damaging to the Autism conversation to assume that (1) many Autistic people have savant skills and (2) ‘Regular’ Autistic people don’t ‘count’. None of that silliness here. We’re all fantastic. Capiche?

Elizabeth Rhea is finishing up her MA in Narrative and Social Change in Claremont, California. She believes that telling better stories-- including better stories about Autism-- can lead to compassion and change in society.