“That last mile was so fast,” I said to my sister as I came in from running in the morning.
“Why?” she asked.
“I was thinking about the patriarchy,” I replied. “And how it still exists in ministry,” I added.
In 1956, Margaret Towner was the first woman to be ordained by the denomination that would become the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.). But sexism, both subtle and overt, did not stop with the right to ordination. When the pastor walks through the church kitchen and is greeted with a “joke” from an older man about her place being in the kitchen, this is sexism. When the pastor is about to get into her car at 5 p.m. after a long workday and is asked why she needs to leave early since she has no family to care for at home, archaic gender roles are placed on her. When the pastor is reminded that men have trouble hearing a higher voice, she hears the message that her congregation would be better if she were a man.
Each anecdote above comes from my personal experience. And sometimes, like that day I ran the final mile of my run so much faster, I find myself angry. My experiences — and the stories I’ve heard from other female pastors who are regularly reminded that they are somehow inferior — make me angry. I am angry that women have worked so hard to dismantle the harmful patriarchal prejudices, yet they persist.
After my angry run, I discussed with my sister (also an ordained pastor) how nothing seems to change in the patriarchy unless we perpetuate the stereotypes by making ourselves vulnerable. Calling a man sexist seems to elicit a laugh that the pastor is being too sensitive or that it was only a joke or even dismissal. Instead, to evoke change, I must make it about my feelings: “When you say that I don’t feel valued;” “When you joke about that, it hurts my feelings.” I’ve found this rhetorical approach effective when speaking to a man who holds himself in a place of societal or even ecclesiastical power. Sometimes this framing of the problem creates change — because they would not want to hurt the vulnerable female pastor after all, would they?
I think one of the reasons the #MeToo movement has been so powerful is that it gave non-males an acceptable language for abuse. Even the word abuse often puts men on the defense. The stories shared in #MeToo posts were vulnerable enough for them to hear us. Sadly, I sincerely believe that the three men in the scenarios I shared above are likely completely unaware of the #MeToo movement. But I can preach it. I should preach it. I must preach it. Because we all so often need to hear what we ignore.
My parents chose the PC(USA) to raise their three daughters in because they wanted a safe, welcoming and egalitarian place for us to learn and serve our God who created all gender identities. I’m grateful for this rainbow denomination, but on my hardest days, I do find myself righteously angry that pastors still find themselves wasting energy on patriarchal evils.
But on my more hopeful days, I do find my call to continue dismantling the patriarchy — to leave this denomination more welcoming than I’ve found it. And if I find myself running just a little bit faster some days when I reflect on the patriarchy, well, then I’ll count those speedy miles as a victory too. But I won’t stop there. Because God has called me — a millennial, a female, a pastor with a little higher voice than some – to continue the work of those female pastors who came before me and to dismantle the patriarchy so we can all love and serve Christ.
