Inspired by young women…

Tennis became my favorite sport as a teen. Being a child of the mountains in the ’70s and ’80s, athletic options were fairly limited for girls. The equal opportunity of Title IX had yet to make it to my hometown. I discovered tennis on TV. I loved the international flavor of competition, the sportsmanship most players showed (I was never a John McEnroe fan), and admittedly, the cute outfits the women wore. There was no team on which I could play, but my Dad brought out some old wooden racquets, and our family would hit around on local courts.

My high school did have a boys’ team, and even though I kept asking for a girls’ team, no coach cared enough to make it happen. The tennis coach asked me to be the manager for the boys’ team. He even gave me a Letter as a Senior for tennis. (Yes, I achieved an athletic Letter, even though I never played one point in a match.) He was a kind man – I was very organized and took care of a number of things he was too tired to care about – and I guess that was his way of thanking me. I haven’t kept much from high school, but I kept that letter – it’s on a cardigan sweater, with my academic Letter on the opposite side.

I am glued to the tv, and now my computer, and even phone, when the Grand Slams occur 4 times a year. A few years back, my friend Tracey and I went to the US Open for a few days. It was definitely some of the best days of my life.

Saturday’s evening match at the US Open was decidely memorable. Teen phenom, 15 year old Coco Gauff, played defending champ, 21 year old Naomi Osaka. Gauff made a good run at Wimbledon, taking out her idol Venus Williams along the way. Yet, Osaka’s game was too much for young Gauff, and the girl understandably found herself in tears at the end of the match.

TV matches always offer a quick interview with the winner. The other player normally makes a quick exit to the locker room, letting the winner bask in the glow for a few minutes on their own. The loser oftentimes just wants to get off the court and go cry or be angry without thousands or millions watching them. Yet, Saturday night was special. The video above shows Osaka comforting Gauff, and even encouraging her to be interviewed with her. This move was not only unusual – it was unheard of. Commentators were floored by the compassion and generosity.

These two young women of color displayed dedication, extremely hard work and effort, kindness, respect, and resilience. Venus and Serena have paved a way for young women of color to make their way in the tennis world, and beyond. In the midst of a society where white supremacists are still quite prominent, and quieter racism is a daily thing, it took far more than just athletic ability to make a name (and even the greatest name for Serena) in one of the whitest of sports in the US.

Osaka and Coco understand that making one’s way in the world, especially in a world dominated by patriarchy and racism, takes courage, cooperation, and community. The mutual respect and support displayed Saturday night provides a powerful message for all of us. When we support others, and lift them up, especially if they are seen as our “opponent,” our world will be all the better. And we ourselves will be all the better for it. It makes us better and stronger people to show compassion.

I look forward to seeing many more matches with Gauff and Osaka in the future. I enjoy their playing ability, but I appreciate who they are as leaders and role models even more.

 

 

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The Farewell

L to R: "Jiang Yongbo, Aoi Mizuhara, Chen Han, Tzi Ma, Awkwafina, Li Xiang, Lu Hong, Zhao Shuzhen." Courtesy of Big Beach.photo credit – https://variety.com/2019/film/festivals/the-farewell-review-awkwafina-1203117966/

Saying goodbye is one of the hardest things we have to do as humans, especially when we don’t want to do it. Even if the separation is just for a few days, weeks, or months, when we love someone, we don’t want to let them go. We want them to be part of our lives, to share our joys and disappointments. When we are facing saying goodbye forever, the pain can be almost unbearable. The recently opened movie, The Farewell, explores these deepest feelings of having to say goodbye. Rapper turned actor, Awkwafina, stars in this dramatic role, based upon a real life event from writer-director, Lula Wang. The movies begins with this sentence on a blank screen, “This story is based upon a actual lie.” Real life normally seems to inspire the best stories..

Awkwafina plays Billi, a struggling young New Yorker who as a child immigrated from China with her parents. Her grandmother, Nai Nai, remains in China, along with the rest of the family (with the exception of Billi’s aunt and uncle and cousin, who have resided in Japan for a number of years). Nai Nai is dying from cancer, and as was a common practice in China, the family has decided not to tell her. The family gathers from their various homes for the wedding of Billi’s cousin, Hao Hao – simply a ruse to come home for the final time before Nai Nai dies.

Billi’s Western mindset and emotional connection lead her to believe that telling Nai Nai the diagnosis is the right thing to do. Certainly, we here in the West believe it is our right to know what is going on with our own bodies. Not knowing such information would seem like a betrayal from those we love the best.

Billi listens to her family’s rationale behind such a decision, and learns that Nai Nai didn’t tell her own departed husband of his fatal diagnosis years before. One family member tells Billi that the community is more important than the individual, and that the family “carries the grief” for the dying member so that the one dying does not have that burden.

Carrying another’s grief is such an incredible, beautiful image. In this society, filled with rampant individualism, we don’t want to carry our own grief, much less another’s. We just want to anesthetize pain with food, alcohol, ignorance, or means of escape. As much as we try to ignore our own pain, we do an even better job ignoring other’s. We want to blame people who are experiencing difficulty, instead of sitting with them in the dark days and working with them to find some better path or to change systems and structures which create pain.

I am so thankful for loved ones who have wanted to carry grief or pain with me. I hope I can at least do that in part for others – to carry what I can that might help relieve the burden.

Without giving away the ending, the movie does tell us that Farewell is never really a permanent goodbye. One of the most beautiful (and entertaining, as real life often is even in the midst of pain) scenes comes from the family visiting the gravesite for Nai Nai’s departed husband. They give offerings (a common practice in many cultures), and celebrate his presence with them, even if his physical presence is gone.

I pray that we in the West can better understand what it means to be community and to carry another’s pain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Timeless speaks the Truth

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Lucy Preston, an historian who is a lead character in Timeless

When we stay silent, we are just as much to blame as those we fight against, and fight is what we must do…”

These powerful words concluded another compelling episode of NBC’s show, Timeless. This amazing show is in its second season (and unfortunately, just a short season of 10 eps), and it just continues to get better and better. The diverse characters are fully realized – strong, goofy, intelligent, complicated, loyal. Women are changing the world – they support each other – and their lives do not revolve around a romantic interest (even when there is one present). It’s hard to believe each person isn’t actually a real person, even if they are the “bad guy.” It has action, humor, drama. But the best part is the social and human truth it embodies each week.

Last night’s episode was about the Suffragist Movement. Once again, the show uncovered forgotten history, and showed how women were treated as they tried to have their rights represented. We all know that being able to vote does not make one an equal citizen, but it is a crucial first step. As we have seen the rights of anyone in this country who is not a white male (and supposedly Christian) trampled in the past couple years, this show could not be more timely. The parallels between the various historical settings each week and what is occurring in 2018 hits almost too close to home. In the climax of the episode last night, these words were uttered, “When we stay silent, we are just as much to blame as those we fight against, and fight is what we must do…”

Silence is complicity. If we ignore the oppression of others in our society and do not make the effort to speak and to act, then we are just as bad as the oppressors. If we act like all lives matter, without realizing that black and brown ones suffer far more proportionally, then we are part of the problem. If we choose not to worry too much about women dealing with sexual harassment and assault and lower pay, then we are part of the problem. If we turn off the tv when we see a child ripped from a parent because of lies about immigration, then we are part of the problem. When we choose to ignore continual lies and inflammatory language from our highest elected official, then we are part of the problem.

It reminds me of that old bumper sticker, “If you’re not angry, you’re not paying attention.” But anger is not enough. The anger needs to propel us to action.

Adoption and Being Real

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Gold Medal Winning Gymnast, Simone Biles

I’m an Olympics junkie. The tv or computer (or both) run constantly during those two weeks, anxiously awaiting the next exciting event. I’ve uncovered a love for women’s rugby during the summer, and can’t wait to catch up on curling when the winter games roll around. I’m fortunate that my daughter enjoys watching much of the games with me, although gymnastics is her favorite for the summer games. Ava was a gifted gymnast in elementary and middle school, and maintained the skills throughout years of cheerleading. We turned up the tv for the qualifying round Sunday night, ready to see Simone Biles’ domination. We cheered with her teammates and parents. Except not all the commentators saw the event the same way we did.

“Simone Biles’ grandparents…” was the usual talking point. Al Trautwig even tweeted that they were not her real parents, even though they legally adopted Biles as a very young child. They are the only parents she has ever known, legally, spiritually, and emotionally. Biles speaks about how her family came to be, and has said “It’s so normal.”

As my daughter and I sat on the couch, watching tv and the twitter feed, I told her how irritated the dismissal of adopted families made me. “I’m your real mom, and you are my real daughter.”

“I know. Some people are just stupid.” Ava shrugged it off, but I’m still irritated. Just like Biles, a family being formed by adoption is normal for my daughter. Yet, I’ve spent 18 years explaining that I love my child who was adopted just like I love my child to whom I gave birth. I’ve spent 18 years explaining that I am Ava’s “real” mom, just not her birth mom. I’ve spent 18 years explaining that we are like any other mother and daughter, even though we are of different races and came together in a less than common manner.

As a person of faith, I believe adoption is the highest form of parenting. The New Testament (Romans 8) proclaims that we are all adopted by God – loved and cared for as God’s own child. And even when we have birth children, we have to “adopt” that baby – promising to love and care for that child. We know of too many parents who don’t “adopt” their birth children, instead offering neglect or intentional abuse.

My daughter summed it up nicely, “Some people are just stupid.” And some people are just mean. Al Trautwig doubled-down before he finally apologized. I don’t know if he has learned anything from this. I don’t know if non-adoptive adults will stop making insulting statements to adoptive families. (“Do you love her like you do your own child?” “How much did you pay for her?” “I guess kids who are adopted have all sorts of problems.”)

It is more challenging being part of an adoptive family – the challenge comes from others who don’t understand what it is truly to love someone for her own sake, regardless of how she came into your life. The challenge comes from a lack of Christian charity and compassion, and the desire to make everyone over in their own likeness.

As God has adopted us, so adoption is the highest form of parenting. I’ve adopted both my kids – birth and adopted, alike. I hope Al Trautwig and others like him will realize families formed by are adoption are real and normal. Otherwise, it’s just plain stupid.

Depending on the Kindness of Strangers

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The Delaware Memorial Bridge over the Delaware River

“I’ve always depended on the kindness of strangers.” This telling phrase from Blanche DuBois, as embodied by Vivien Leigh, suddenly popped into my head in the middle of a dark night. My tired accent was probably close to the Southern Belle’s as I explained my lack of cash to a perhaps equally tired attendant in a toll booth on the New Jersey Turnpike. I had been awake for close to 24 hours on my journey home from a lovely and thought-provoking 10 days in Scotland and England. Unfortunately, the last leg of my flight had been cancelled, along with numerous other flights, and it well looked as if it would be two more days before I could walk through my own door. I decided an 9 hour drive would be preferable to a couple days spent in the Newark Airport, waiting to see if I made the standby cut. Rental car steering wheel in hand, I turned onto the Turnpike at 1am, guided by the gps on my cell phone. I had never driven I-95 north of Maryland, but I figured I was capable since I had just been navigating foreign countries. I hurtled into the night, feeling pretty good about my resourcefulness. I blasted the air conditioning and radio, continuing my burst of confidence, until I realized I was singing along with Carrie Underwood “Before he sleeps” instead of the correct words. (The man was a cheater, not sleep-deprived.) The first toll-booth added a couple more holes in the armor of assurance I wore. With only credit cards and British pounds, I counted myself quite lucky the attendant took pity on me and let me use a card to pay at a cash-only booth. I managed to find the $4 fee for the next booth in the various pockets of my backpack, but wasn’t quite sure how I would manage the subsequent stops.

A handful of other cars zoomed around me, but the night was dark and quiet. At least it was until a huge monstrosity loomed before me. “Holy s*%#!” erupted from my mouth, a phrase I do not believe I have ever uttered in my life. (In all honestly, it would be uttered a few more times before I arrived home the following afternoon.) In the shadows, an enormous monolith reached to the heavens, and I couldn’t see a sign anywhere that told me what the heck was going on. I quickly found myself careening over a massive bridge, quite terrified.  (pictured above – but imagine it was really, really dark;  you’re sleep-deprived; and you have an irrational fear of really high bridges) The bridge phobia can be blamed on my family, who decided to have an outing when I was a teen to see the campy horror movie, Happy Birthday to Me. While my family laughed, I was horrified at the lobotomy which took place when a car failed to make a drawbridge.

By the time I navigated what I later realized was the Delaware Memorial Bridge, I needed a break. I found myself at a Comfort Inn just north of Baltimore a little after 3. The night clerk checked me in, providing some basic necessities I lacked. I slept like a rock until 7:30am, when my body decided it was really Sunday afternoon and time to be awake. I went to check out, hair still wet from my shower, and asked the desk clerk how many more tolls were ahead of me, hoping I could come up with a solution to my lack of US cash on a Sunday morning. I rattled on about my adventures since returning to the States, and she marveled that I was able to use a credit card at a toll booth. “I have something in the back that can help,” she added and disappeared through a door. She returned in a moment, holding out a $10 bill. “You only have 2 more booths, and this will cover it.” I protested, but she insisted. (Yes, customer service knows about this stellar employee.)

I made it home safely 7 hours later. I don’t know if it was stress, exhaustion, or just the elongated vowels and blondish hair – but numerous perfect strangers were graciously kind and generous.

And isn’t that what life should be all about? The Hebrew Scriptures have a large focus on Hospitality. In a day and age where life was dangerous and often scary, any decent person would welcome the stranger, providing shelter, food, and protection. It shames me that so many in our bountiful country speak out of fear, not wanting to be in community with those who are perceived as different. We can expect our loved ones to care for us, but it’s the strangers who need our love the most. Thank goodness for that dependence. It’s what makes us truly human, and brings out the best in each one of us.

The Depths of Winter

a cold January day at an old Irish cemetary

a cold January day at an old Irish cemetary

My daughter and I had a recent conversation about “winter music.” As we drove around in my car, I yet again forced her to listen to Sting’s If On A Winter’s Night. She didn’t seem to mind, but was curious why I was still listening to Christmas songs and it was after January 6. (We do observe the full 12 days of Christmas in my home.) I shared that throughout the centuries, people had songs they would sing during the dark, short days of winter, and this was the music Sting honored with his album. That definitely included some tunes about the Christmas story, but winter was broader than just 12 days.

I acknowledge I am like much of our society when I want to skip winter, unless it involves a pretty snow that is easily drivable in a day or two. It seems Christmas is about bringing as much happiness and light into the world as we can, and then we immediately turn to Valentine’s Day where love reigns supreme, and then we immediately skip to swimsuit season. Unless we enjoy winter sports, we try our best to ignore the short, gray days, and the sadness that can often accompany them. When Sting gave interviews about his winter music, he discussed the importance of diving into winter and embracing what it means spiritually. When we just try to survive it – to skitter through in anticipation of bright, sunny days – then we miss an important aspect of life.

In the past couple decades, our society seems to have become more and more obsessed with being happy. The pursuit of happiness appears to take precedence over anything else in our lives. We don’t see the value in things which don’t make us happy. Many years ago I met with my wise spiritual director, Susan, and I can remember telling her that I just wanted to be happy. She responded, “Perhaps wanting to be peaceful might be a better option. Happiness can be superficial, and doesn’t really speak to your soul.”

Peace can only come when we really face the gray days of winter. If we try to ignore those times in our lives, we will not truly know peace. I invite you this winter to observe a full winter. Find times of quiet. Reflect on the purpose of your life. Embrace the darkness, knowing that it will shed light on the easier days. Dive into winter – the cold, the lack of light, the isolation – and look into what your soul says to you. We will definitely appreciate the warmth more fully when it comes, and be able to grasp the deep peace which truly does bring joy into our lives.

Certainty is the Devil

extant

“Certainty is the Devil.” So states JD Richter, as portrayed by Jeffrey Dean Morgan, in the Halle Berry fronted series, Extant. Extant is produced by Steven Spielburg’s Amblin Entertainment. When Oscar winner Berry was attached to the series, it make a stir in the entertainment community. The sci-fi concept is set in the future, with Berry as an astronaut who finds herself connected with aliens, and possibly an alien invasion. Government conspiracies and threats of totalitarian rule soon ensues.

The show was a bit slow in its inaugural season, but the addition of Morgan and a revamped story line made it a must see this summer. The season finale airs tomorrow night. Morgan is his usual compelling self – this time a renegade bounty hunter with a better sense of justice than anyone in power. He has proved an excellent complement to the brilliant and heartfelt astronaut, Molly Woods. One aspect the series has relayed so well is the gray areas in the world, especially in regards to government, politics, protectionism, and what it means to be human. The near future, as many conveniences as it offers, is not an Eden where technology and science have made it easy to know right and wrong. If anything, moral certainty seems even further removed from reality. It is the people who have no room for doubt who make the biggest mistakes. And thus Richter offers the aphorism, “Certainty is the Devil.”

I can’t help but think of Kim Davis, the Kentucky Clerk of Court who has violated a court order to fulfill the responsibilities of her government position and issue marriage licenses because her brand of Christianity does not believe people of the same gender should be married. She is as certain as the day is long. This is the case in spite of being on her fourth marriage, and having conceived by one man while married to another.

Certainty is the Devil. Even Jesus seemed to realize this. One of my favorite passages in the Bible is that of the Syro-Phoenician woman (Mark 7:24-30). She is a non-Jewish woman with a critically ill daughter. She begs Jesus to heal her daughter, but he tells her that he has come for his own people. Who cannot think of the refugee and immigration crises around the world today when reading these words? Yet, she refutes his lack of concern for her plight, and he changes his mind. Yes, the Son of God, recognizes this foreign woman as a child of God and changes his mind. Her daughter is healed.

Jesus himself understood certainty was of the devil.

History is filled with stories of people who are certain, who refuse to listen to the experiences of others. Their certainty takes precedence over law, social norms, reason, experience, or relationships. It is the story of men who knew they were created in God’s image and should rule over women, who were seen as only a poor imitation of men. It is the story of people who found verses in the Bible that justified enslaving hundreds of thousands of people due to skin color. It is the story of people who want to protect people like themselves, regardless of the dire situations of other humans. It is the story of people who believe they alone know right and wrong, and that others should follow their dictates.

Of what am I certain? I am certain that each and every person in the world is a child of God and should be treated as such. I am certain that not one of us is God and fully knows what God thinks. I am certain that each one of us will find ourselves surprised in the great beyond to learn about some of God’s ideas that we have chosen to ignore. I am certain I don’t have all the answers, but I am called to struggle with the difficulties of the human condition and the big issues in the world. Certainty is the Devil.

Felicity Smoak – Role Model

A couple years ago I started watching a new show on the CW network, Arrow. I watched for one reason alone – John Barrowman. Barrowman starred as Captain Jack Harkness on BBC’s Dr. Who and Torchwood. It was a great character, and I figured his presence alone was a good reason to give this little comic book show a try. I enjoy action movies, and I can recognize Stan Lee, but I know nothing of this particular comic series.

The show immediately engaged me apart from Barrowman’s presence, and the appearance of a new character, Felicity Smoak, several episodes in had me riveted to the television. Apparently, this character does not exist in the comic world, and was meant to be a one-off, but the response by fans was so positive that Emily Bett Rickards quickly became a series regular. Smoak is a beautiful blond, but this fact is superfluous to her character. She is a genius-level tech whiz. She can hack anything on earth in just a few seconds, and throw in some amusing asides while barely batting an eye.

Felicity falls for the lead character, Oliver. Since she’s the geeky tech girl, and other women seem to catch Oliver’s eye, the audience could only ship these two. That was until the end of last season, when we realized Oliver was a smart man after all and fell for Felicity. This is tv, so naturally the course of true love does not run smoothly. Felicity yet again proves that she is not the typical young woman on an action show. She loves Oliver, but she also loves herself. Oliver is an imperfect hero, and makes plenty of mistakes. And you know what? Felicity is not going to allow her life to be ruined by the man she loves. Oliver decides to join forces with the evil Merlin (for good reasons, but does the end truly justify the means?), and Felicity wisely refuses to be part of it. She reminds Oliver of what happens to the women he loves, especially when he strays from the path of goodness and integrity, and she refuses to be a woman he loves who gets destroyed.

I literally cheered at the tv when she took her stand. I have always loved this character, but how many times have we seen stories where the women love the guys regardless of any stupid or risky actions. They practically sing “Stand by your man.” Romantic love is the most important thing. Reason is trumped by love, even to ruin or death.

Felicity loves herself enough to know that she deserves better. She deserves a man who will act with integrity. She deserves a man who will not ask her to go against her conscience. Yes, she loves Oliver – but this by no means negates the love she has for herself. Felicity is a role model. She’s proud of her smarts. She has a great sense of humor. She works hard. She expects a great deal from herself and from others. And she will not settle for anyone less that who she really deserves.

I love Felicity Smoak.

Seeing oneself as a hero – a Theological Interpretation

Thank you, Tina Fey and Amy Poehler, for once again providing an evening filled with humor, truth, wit, and insight at the 2015 Golden Globes. I oftentimes get bored during awards shows, especially when I haven’t seen most of the fare which has been nominated, but last night kept my attention for the entire three hours. Part of it was that gifted duo of hosts, part was watching with my teen daughter and explaining things that were out of her realm of understanding (and hearing her talk about how lucky Fey and Poehler’s kids were to have the coolest moms anywhere – no offense taken on my part), but the biggest part for me was the affirmation of people who were not considered mainstream being celebrated in Hollywood.

Women last night once again proved they bring the funny. They proved they are more than the designer they wore. They spoke about rape culture and changing the discourse. They celebrated the trans culture. They spoke about freedom of expression. Common, co-winner with John Legend of best song for “Glory” in the movie Selma, identified himself as the woman on the back of the bus needing a seat, as the kid needing a hand when he received a bullet, and as a cop being shot in the line of duty. They spoke about unity and the right to self-expression. And one woman spoke about being a hero. Gina Rodriguez, star of the new CW show, Jane the Virgin, surprised many by winning best actress in a TV Comedy. It was the first award of the night, and left me in complete tears. “This award is so much more than myself. It represents a culture that wants to see itself as heroes.”

Heroes – not as outsiders, interlopers, immigrants, undocumented, unwanted, a drain on a white nation of heroes modeled after John Wayne. Heroes.

One of the best parts of the Gospel message is that Jesus was an unexpected hero. He hailed from the backwoods of Galilee, born of unwed parents, lived in poverty, hung around with some dodgy sorts, and angered the righteous, upright citizens who had all the power. He came for the outcasts – the ones neglected, abused, or cast away by good society. He came for those who lived on the fringes, denied access or acceptance. He confided in and trusted people who were seen as unworthy or unimportant – women, non-Jews, puppets of the Empire, lepers, and so many more. Jesus told each person they were a special child of God, loved by God. He told them they were meant to be a hero.

One thing I love about my job is the great diversity of the young women with whom I work. I am thrilled to see a young Latina woman, the first in her family to go to college, realize she can be a hero. Even if she still gets mistaken for a maid when she stays at a hotel to present a paper for an academic conference, even if some men only want to talk about her body, even if people assume she is undocumented – she is a hero, and she will inspire me and countless others.

Thank God for the heroes, and for the ones who teach me everyday.

Country Music, Women & God

I’m proud of my roots. I am a native of the North Carolina mountains and have many fond memories of my childhood. I particularly loved the only radio station we could always get – no matter what cove or valley we drove through – an AM station that played a lot of country, some rock n’roll, and even the occasional disco item. Country music in particular was the background noise of my childhood. Some of the songs were hysterical and cheesy – think “Convoy” – but many were always filled with a variety of life situations and a range of characters. There was also the standard fare – tough lives, drinking, rural living, and God.

In recent years, country music seems to be dominated by boys (and I use the word intentionally) who write about trucks, hot young women in tiny outfits, and drinking. “Bro- country” is the term that has been coined by music critics, and I am certainly not alone in my disdain for the one note that is filling the country airwaves. Young country phenom Kacey Musgraves famously spoke about this last summer when she said singing about trucks should be outlawed. The interesting thing about country music, and particularly bro-country, is that it still pays homage to the Christian faith, which is inconsistent with the themes of the preponderance of these songs.

My favorite country music song of late is “Girl in a Country Song” by Maddie & Tae. These two young newcomers provide great insight into the way women have by and large been relegated to sex objects in the world of country music today. Women in these songs are passive observers, simply there to be desired by the male protagonist. There are exceptions to this overbearing dominance in country music today – Miranda Lambert, Carrie Underwood, The Band Perry, Zach Brown Band, and a smattering of others. I’m by no means the first one to be irritated (to say the least) by this disturbing trend the past decade. However, one of the things I find most troubling is country music’s belief that it is intricately connected to Christianity. At the heart of Christianity is the belief that each and every person – no matter what gender, race, culture or orientation – is a child of God and should be treated with respect, honor and love. And how is that possible when women are seen only as objects, relegated to the lower status of “girls,” and celebrated for wearing skimpy outfits while putting up with bad-boys? Would any Christian parent (or any decent parent of whatever faith tradition) truly want their daughters to aspire to such things?

I certainly understand that a certain number of songs (in any genre) will be written about a physical attraction and desire, but when this is the overwhelming theme played on today’s country stations, there is a problem. Someone who truly purports to be of the Christian faith will recognize that each person (male and female) is created in God’s image, and is thus worthy of respect. Let’s hope Kacey Musgraves, Maddie & Tae, and others will continue to speak and be heard in their quest for better quality country music that truly reflects an egalitarian and respectful society, for people of whatever faith background.