The Fine Line Between Modesty and Misogyny

I am dressing modestly and uncomfortably by wrapping this infinity scarf around me…

When I talk about modesty, I am not referring to the opposite of vanity or conceit, but modesty in the way that this one Christian group on Facebook describes as necessary for “protecting brothers in Christ.” This is the idea that women should dress modestly lest their brothers in Christ stumble.

I don’t remember how I stumbled upon this group, but it caught my eye because it encouraged Christian women to delete “un-modest photos” from Facebook or untag themselves in photos where they might be in swimsuits or other photos so that women can help “protect brothers in Christ.” It caused an eyebrow raise because the idea that women have control over whether or not a man lusts is quite similar to the idea that a woman has control over whether or not they become a victim of sexual violence.

For the record, BOTH are untrue.

I say that because both these ideas seem to accept the fact that men cannot control their sexual urges, that they are wild animals, that being sexually aggressive or lust-driven is just who they are. I know there seems to be some truth in it and yet there isn’t. There really isn’t.

There isn’t because every time we accept that as true, that women are somehow responsible for how they are looked at by another man or responsible for any sexual advance from a man, we take away the responsibility of those men. Men are just as responsible, if not more so.

It’s time we teach men about self-control, delayed gratification, and respecting a woman’s body. Ancient Greek statues of naked bodies weren’t sexual; they were considered beautiful works of art. Nothing about Venus de Milo was considered pornographic or sinful. But, somehow as time went on, we became ashamed of the naked body, found it to be perverted and lustful. We’ve lost sight of what Creation is.

The Birth of Venus by Sandro Botticelli

Granted, I myself don’t necessarily feel comfortable with clearly pornographic looking Facebook profile pictures, ass cheeks hanging out of skinny jeans, or selfie Instagram shots that are down angle of major cleavage. But to make it seem like women are solely responsible for protecting the precious eyes of men who are afraid of lusting drives me nuts. It is just shy of asking me to wear a burqa. Remember the days when showing a woman’s ankle was risqué? Who defines what is too sexually provocative and what isn’t?

Besides, women are fighting the battle of being objectified on the daily. To add to that pressure of having to think “is what I am wearing too provocative? am I causing someone to sin?” frustrates the hell out of me. When it is hot out and I am sweating my ass off, I want to be able to wear a spaghetti strap tank top and for it to be okay. And it is okay. But groups like this will claim that I am showing too much skin and causing my brother in Christ to sin. How about if my brother in Christ just learns not to associate my shoulders with sex? My shoulder is a shoulder. I carry purses on it.

Does this cause you to stumble? She’s not inviting you to fantasize sexing her up. So don’t blame her for where your damn mind goes.

I cringe because asking women to cover up more or delete un-modest pictures to “protect brothers in Christ” feels uncomfortably close to a form of control over women. It is such a pussy way for men to deal with lust. If a man is struggling with lust and sexual addiction or whatever the hell is wrong with these men, then the solution is not in asking the women to hide every part of their body that may cause a dude to stumble; the solution is in men teaching other men how to be strong, how to not objectify women, how to respect them and not see their bodies as purely sexual objects. Asking a woman to be responsible for that is like saying, “Well, it’s YOUR fault I’m lusting because you’re showing that much skin.”

I know that I’m not a guy (specifically a Christian guy; I’ve noticed that non-Christian men don’t beat themselves up over lustful thoughts) and so I don’t know how hard it is to look at a scantily clad woman and not feel sexually frustrated or something. We also live in an overly sexualized culture. It’s really everybody’s fault at this point. But the point is the same: women are not responsible for men’s sexual behavior.

Men, you are responsible for where your mind goes. You are responsible for where your hands go. You are responsible for where your dick goes. Not women. My skinny jeans are not an invitation for an ass grope. My v-neck is not a request to be howled at. Even tanning at the beach is not my way of asking you to hit on me. Women are not asking for anything.

So, Group Promoting Dressing Modestly in Christian Women Profile Pictures, this is what I have to say to you. If you want to stop Christian men from lusting, then start with Christian men. Don’t you dare blame how a woman is dressed for what a man’s mind is doing.

Who Invented The Unspoken Christian Rules?

I have a friend who writes great blog posts like this one on the irony of Christians against marriage equality or this one on Christians becoming just like Ned Flanders and we often bond over the fact that we love Jesus but just aren’t feeling this pop Christianity bubble that many of our Christian peers are a part of.

I cannot find the wonderful entry he wrote on Christians and Christian music, but today it got me thinking: who created these strange unspoken rules of what it means to be a Christian? Some of them aren’t biblical, some of them aren’t bad if you want to follow them (let’s say you only listen to Christian music), but what peeves me the most is when Christians assume that I am less of a Christian for not following them.

Case and point. Let’s look at these myths of what it means to be Christian.

They look cool though…

1) Only listen to Christian music.
I can’t. I haven’t listened to Christian music (other than hymnals at church) in a while. This means, no Chris Tomlin or Hillsong United. Why? Because, honestly, as a musician and singer I can’t honestly say that popular Christian music is good. This one time, Mumford and Sons (not a Christian band) came on the mainstream radio and my boyfriend pointed out that it sounded like a Christian song. That says a lot about Christian music that songs can melodically sound “Christian” regardless of what the lyrics were. I can write Christian music. I have. Whipped out my guitar, threw down some G, C, D, Em, C, D, G with a bridge of Am chords and BAM a catchy worship song to lift your hands to.

Don’t even get me started on how poor some of the theology is in many popular Christian songs. That’s a whole different blog entry.

So, if I am going to listen to the radio on my drive home from work or go to a concert of a hipster-y indie band that doesn’t sing about Jesus, how does that make me less Christian? It’s okay, guys, I am not on a road to hell just because I want to listen to jazz every now and then.

Totally stole this picture from InterVarsity’s website for Global Urban Treks. They are really awesome though.

2) Missionaries only go overseas.
This was a big deal for me when I was in college because I never felt called to overseas missions. I felt called to local missions, inner city work, working among the least of these in the United States. I even got Acts 1:8 tattooed to my arm to remind myself that we start in our own Jerusalem (our own cities) and then go outwards from there. Yet, time and time again, my peers were lauding over those in the fellowship who felt called to Peru or India or China. Nobody gave a crap about students who were going to spend a summer doing an urban plunge or participate in an urban project. It wasn’t sexy enough.

Guess what, God cares just as much about American poverty as He does poverty in Africa (which is a continent, you guys, stop saying you feel called to an entire continent which is made up of several very different countries). And it doesn’t always have to be poverty, trust me. Rich people need God too.

This is a good book that talks about some of these things. There’s stuff like prayer circles, worship styles, oddities about Christian culture.

3) Use “Lord Father God” in prayer about a trillion times.
Why? Just….why? Why do we do that? I don’t say your name — let alone your full name or nicknames inside of your name — every so often in conversation with you. Why do we do that with God? And why “Lord Father God” and not “Father God Lord” or “God Lord Father” or…

I once knew a man who started his prayers with “Hey Dad.” It was sweet. Not my cup of tea, but it was original. And personal. And not a result of being a clone of a culture.

*$&!!#$@#*&!!

4) Don’t cuss.
Sam wrote a blog entry on this. Saying “frick” is really ridiculous because we all know you are really dropping the F bomb and trying to lessen the blow by being cute. I am personally not a fan of rampant cussing or dropping the F bomb like it’s nothing, but it’s not the end of the world if I stub my toe and say “shit!”

I know there are tons of verses about your tongue and being wise with what comes out of your mouth, but honestly, the little coverups for cuss words are just as bad and frankly, much more annoying…

Beers I had with friends recently. Beer is yummy.

5) Don’t drink.
I like beer. I like wine. I don’t do it to get drunk. If I end my work day with a bottle of beer or go out and meet up with my friends at a bar, it doesn’t mean we’ve abandoned God. I like a good Belgian ale or a sauvignon blanc.

But I do remember when I thought this was an important “rule” to being Christian and abstained entirely from alcohol once upon a time. It did not make me any more spiritual.

6) Facebook PDA determines how spiritual you are.
How many Bible verses have you posted to your Facebook? How many Christian artists have you “liked”? How many articles about godly marriages have you reshared to your newsfeed? Oh, zero? Not good enough!

I confess I used to be super PDA (public displays of affection) on my Facebook, Twitter, you name it, about Jesus and God and Faith and Church. I’m sure it inspired a shit ton of my Christian friends but honestly, it does nothing for those that don’t believe in Jesus. It isolates you and makes you hard to relate with. What’s it like to be a light to the world if we’re in an annoying bubble that speaks our own little Christianese and feels like a weird exclusive club that only listens to Australian worship bands?

Our relationship with God does not need to be plastered all over our Facebook newsfeed. That is a byproduct of the culture of oversharing and frankly, slightly narcissistic. It almost screams, “Look at me! I’m spiritual! How many likes can I get on this Bible quote?!”

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At the end of the day, these are just a few of the weird unspoken rules in Christian culture (all six of the aforementioned rules I consistently break). I didn’t even begin to mention the rules of wearing Christian brand t-shirts or the weird overemphasis of marrying off the young single women in the church or else they are nothing. The reality is that some of these are good: don’t get me wrong, Christian music is inspirational and uplifting, overseas missionaries are sacrificing a lot to live outside of their comfort zones, there’s no wrong way to pray, cussing can be obnoxious and make you look unintelligent, drinking in excess gets you real messed up, Facebook PDA is a great social media outlet for any type of PR…

But, when we begin to measure people up to these invisible rules and determine someone’s “Christianness” from it, we are no better than the Pharisees who made up their own special spiritual rules, like fasting on certain days or doing absolutely nothing on a Sabbath. Start with the greatest commandment of loving others and loving God and then determine if doing these things (or not doing them) affects our abilities to love.

Remember Shalom, InterVarsity: my open letter to Campus Access Concerns

Dear InterVarsity Christian Fellowship,

I must start by saying thank you: thank you for teaching me about racial reconciliation, about social justice, about seeking shalom, about civil rights, about God’s heart for the marginalized and the oppressed.

Without your amazing urban projects, incarnational ministries, and in depth Scripture studies, I don’t think I would’ve learned that Jesus is a friend of the least of these, that he deeply loved those that society rejected and deemed unworthy. I love Jesus this much more because of it.

But today, I write you this letter, asking you to take everything you have ever taught me about God’s heart for social justice and His passion for the forgotten ones and change your response to my LGBTQ brothers/sisters/individuals. 

On this day in 1965, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. led a march from Selma, Alabama to the capital in Montgomery, to fight for the right to be treated as an equal. Tonight, a thousand people will march from the Castro neighborhood in San Francisco to City Hall, with a passion in their hearts for marriage equality. Tonight, amazing individuals who are some of our brothers, sisters, parents, coworkers, teachers, ministers will stand up for the universal human right to be treated as an equal.

I received a letter from you, InterVarsity, a couple weeks ago. I assumed it was another alumni letter asking me to donate. I opened it anyway, even though I already donate for some of the most amazing InterVarsity staff workers I know. Instead, it was a letter from you specifically asking for support in the Campus Access Concerns. I wish I hadn’t furiously recycled it after reading it, but I do remember you saying that you were not going to “give in” to these secular university pressures, forcing you to allow anybody to serve as leaders regardless of spiritual background.

That is not the whole story, InterVarsity. They are not asking you to let Wiccan students lead Christian Bible studies; they are not asking you to “give in” to religious pluralism.

Tufts University. SUNY Buffalo. Vanderbilt University. What do these universities and their InterVarsity chapters have in common?

Discrimination against gay students. But why was that nowhere in the letter you sent me?

InterVarsity, you tended to and watered a very empathetic heart in me. You fueled my fire to serve among the least of these, to love those that are outcasted, treated differently, and ignored. You are the reason why I stand beside my gay and lesbian brothers and sisters as a straight ally and ask to be heard. In so many ways, this is the Jesus you taught me about, one that would do the exact same.

Where is the transparency? What is with all the theatrics and playing the victim of discrimination from secular universities? Do you not know that hate crimes against LGBTQ currently far outnumber religious hate crimes in the United States? How dare you play the victim in a battle that you have barely started to fight when my friends in the LGBTQ community have struggle far worse discrimination, even to the point of violence and even death?

You have every right to be an organization on every campus. You have every freedom to tell the world about this amazing Jesus that you told me about. But, if you do not begin to open your arms and begin conversations of love towards the LGBTQ community, nobody will hear about him. All they will hear is rejection.

It pains me when I hear my LGBTQ friends talk about their experience with the church. It saddens me when I hear them say, “You can’t change something that is part of their religious beliefs” because I don’t believe it is. Rejection, discrimination, being a stumbling block in someone’s journey to know God is not part of our beliefs. And I don’t want the rest of the world to continue thinking it is.

Tonight, Grace Cathedral will be marching alongside our LGBT friends. They will be wearing these t-shirts:

Faith Demands Justice

This is what I remember learning about in InterVarsity. This is the stance I thought InterVarsity would take. This is the perspective I hold in my heart as a result of the years I spent as a Bible study leader and intern. This is my plea to you: remember shalom.

With Much Love,

The Girl Who Wrote This Blog Entry That Also Ruffled Your Feathers

Being An Ally

After much introspection, I’ve finally been able to name why I am so passionate about equal rights for the LGBTQ community. When I came out as a straight ally (which is a real process, mind you; I checked with PFLAG) by telling everybody to stop getting their panties in a bunch over Chick-Fil-A, it was my first step to truly understanding why I care.

I once wrote a poem about Dr. Martin Luther King Jr when I was 11-years-old. It was along the lines of wanting to go back in time to meet him. I know there’s different opinions to comparing the civil rights movement of the 60s to the LGBTQ movement of today, but bear with me for a second. At the end of the day, the bottom line is that we are fighting for people to be treated equally, for humans to be looked at as human.

I became a Christian in junior high, but I’ve cared about equal rights for way earlier than puberty. And it’s dawned on me why: I grew up as a minority in a small town.

I was treated differently for the color of my skin, the shape of my eyes, and the language I spoke at home to my immigrant parents. Granted, I made friends and didn’t experience violence for being “different” but I knew real well what it felt like to be discriminated against.

We talk about microaggressions during trainings at my field practicum and in my classes about social justice. We don’t realize we do it, but we say ignorantly hurtful and oppressive things every day. Whether it’s other kids asking me if I ate dog or someone making an ignorant comment in my class about how “research says gay men can’t stay loyal in relationships” (that pissed me off so bad that I said that straight men don’t have a great track record either and that is no reason for us to ban them from getting married too and questioned the source of said “research,” but I digress) we are subtly shaping how someone else feels society responds to them.

I am truly thankful to have such an amazing field practicum for my final semesters of my graduate program, working at an LGBTQ counseling agency. I can resonate with President Obama’s process of becoming an ally too; it started with my childhood compassion for civil rights, to my annoyance at people putting so much pressure on a stupid chicken sandwich.

So now I am at a place where I constantly wrestle with what some of my Christian peers say and think and what my heart deeply feels. And I also strongly believe God gave me this heart.

And the tables are turned at my internship but with a huge surprise: while I may be a sexual minority at my practicum (being the only straight cisgender female there), I am accepted, loved, welcomed and treated equally. I only wish our lesbian, gay, bisexual, pansexual, transgender, queer, intersex brothers and sisters could have that same comfort in our “straight” workplaces.

Honestly, I often times think that the root of most prejudice is birthed from ignorance. The majority of people who I know that have an anti-gay agenda also know very few gay people, have no knowledge of current research or are not as educated in general. This may sound pretentious of me (and I think I could care less at this point) but I’ve noticed that the more educated someone is, the more culturally competent and understanding they are of diversity.

We forget how similar we all actually are as human beings. An amazing woman and writer, Maya Angelou, once said: While I know myself as a creation of God, I am also obligated to realize and remember that everyone else and everything else are also God’s creation. Just because someone doesn’t like what you like, eat what you eat, believe in the same god you do, listen to the same music you do doesn’t make them any less human than you or me.

The moment we stop trying to say that there is only one right way to be and stop trying to make everybody just like ourselves, we will truly find peace. We can start by watching what we say, be aware of the microaggressions, and being willing to learn about something new.

Somalia is Not India: The Importance of Cultural Competency

I have started reading the book The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down, a story of a Hmong child and her encounters with the American medical system. As I read about the loyal social worker and her above and beyond commitment to Lia Lee’s family, I can’t help but think about my own experiences with a refugee.

For confidentiality reasons, I’ll call him Nadif, which means “between seasons” because in many ways, Nadif was always in a liminal stage. He escaped his war-torn country of Somalia through a sponsorship, along with his sister. Little is known about his mother and father — whenever I’ve asked him, he would go on a tangent about a blind man and suddenly start speaking both French and English.

Nadif was intelligent: he was trilingual (he spoke English, Somali, and French fluently), he had dreams of becoming a water engineer in Somalia and he followed American politics religiously (although he said he’d vote for Mitt Romney, not realizing what that means to the welfare he was receiving).

He became a client in our program sometime in the early 2000s, following a psychiatric hospitalization, aggressive behavior landing him in jail and then being diagnosed and put on psychiatric medications. Although he had been in the mental health system for several years, it wasn’t until he was transferred to my caseload that I realized he ought to be diagnosed with PTSD and not schizophrenia. I had no idea he was from Somalia until his green card fell out of his chart, with “country of origin: Somalia” written on it.

He had always been adamant about becoming a citizen. He knew the process full well, having applied and been waiting for someone to walk him through the process. His previous case manager, though both compassionate and sensitive to Nadif’s needs, wasn’t able to spend the time Nadif sought to reach this dream of his, hence transferring Nadif to my caseload. I decided that “taking medications regularly” wasn’t as big of a priority to us as “become an American citizen.”

Somali refugees source: http://www.unhcr.org

The mental health system has told Nadif repeatedly that he must take his medications and has gone as far as belittle him like a child for missing medications or refusing to take them. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never taken psychiatric medications and I know I would hate to take them since the list of side effects is endless. I don’t blame him for not wanting to take his medications, just like Lia Lee’s family struggled to find the benefits of giving their baby seizure medications.

I still remember someone in the office saying, about Nadif, “That Indian guy?” which really left me shaking my head. Nadif doesn’t even look Indian, on top of the fact that his last name is Arabic, which again is NOT INDIAN. How ignorant could we be to assume that he is something he was not! On top of that mishap, his chart indicated that he was Muslim; however, through my many conversations with Nadif, I discovered he attended church and had become Christian through the woman who sponsored him to the States. He talked about Jesus Christ with such awe, but often struggled with the thought that Jesus was white (don’t get me started) and equated his injustices with the fact that he himself is black.

My favorite memory with Nadif was after our gruesomely long process of getting him prepared for his citizenship test. With the help of a pro-bono attorney who specializes in assisting immigrants and refugees with obtaining their citizenship, we were able to get Nadif all the way up to his citizenship test. In that large and crowded waiting room, I sat with Nadif as he kept reading and re-reading his citizenship study packet (do you know who your senator is or what the Bill of Rights says? Nadif does).

He passed with flying colors and with the utmost confidence. We were told because of his criminal background (around the time of his first “psychotic” breakdown) that even though he passed, they would have to screen his results but that we should anticipate a notice in the mail for his oath ceremony. I am pretty sure I cried tears of joy. I know Nadif did. We walked out of that office and he tried to grab my cheeks, saying, “My little sister! Thank you! I love you!”

Because I had to leave my agency to focus on graduate school, I don’t know if he ever received his letter about his oath ceremony. Through my old coworkers, it sounds like he may not have and might be back at square one, struggling to get enough cash for cigarettes and sodas. I don’t know if maybe he was hospitalized again and quickly treated as yet another zombie, walking the halls of inpatient psychiatric care.

The lessons we learn from The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down is applicable not just to doctors and social workers; as human beings, we need to constantly learn about other cultures and increase our cultural competency. I chose to not pressure him to “do as he’s told” and focus on his dreams and his goals. Why did he want to become an American citizen so bad when he already had a green card? Because he wanted to be able to vote, because he followed our political process so closely, because he didn’t want the threat of deportation looming over his head if ever he was found guilty of God-knows-what, because he was done with Africa and because he thought America was the land of opportunity.

Refugees are seeking refuge. Refuge is defined as a place of protection from danger, a shelter and a place of safety. I can’t say that Nadif felt any safer or protected from danger here in America. Granted, he has food and shelter and a bit of money thanks to welfare, but what baffles me the most is one of the last things Nadif said to me before I left the agency.

“I am going to go back to Africa. White man is god in America.”

My hope is this: that American institutions — schools, medical offices, mental health agencies, social service organizations, even coffee shops and retail stores — will be filled with much more culturally competent people, who seek to meet newcomers where they are at, be driven to understand where people come from, and be committed to embracing the diversity that makes up this country.

I’m Not Offended, I’ll Just Diagnose You Instead

I am quite sure the title of this entry can be offensive. Nevertheless, it’s derived from the Facebook post of a clinical psychology student who once said something along the lines of running into a woman with an awful personality and finding absolute peace with his ability to diagnose her and no longer being annoyed or frustrated with her. Granted, I’m sure he doesn’t diagnose her to her face, but a way to explain to yourself why someone is the way they are.

It doesn’t always work because you can’t treat friends and family like clients, but lately I find myself feeling the same way. The longer I work in the mental health field, the more colorful personalities I meet, thus making some of the people in my personal life pale in comparison.

This isn’t, however, an invitation for friends and family with difficult personalities to walk all over me. It just means that I will probably go into therapist-mode and draw these wonderful boundaries until there is some mutual respect between parties … versus the more combative type responses that the rest of the world may have towards difficult personalities.

Example #1 – The Me-me-me Person: I used to be a people pleaser so if I knew someone with attention-seeking, narcissistic behavior, I had a tendency to feed it because I knew they would like me if I did. They needed attention so I’d give it. Nowadays, I’m much too exhausted to spread myself so thin for the needs of everyone and in the process, have probably upset the attention-seekers by not paying them attention 24/7. We had a youth like this to which we would draw strict boundaries with. She either hated us for it, or learned to be respectful. Or both.

Example #2 – The Troll: We all know that one person who thrives off of being the devil’s advocate or saying the most outlandish things (also for attention, see example #1) and normally, we get defensive or offended or upset with them. I’ve learned that it’s similar to The Me-me-me Person and stop fueling their attempts to push your buttons. I’ve got other things to do. Motivational interviewing skills (thank you to my graduate school for a lovely training on this) has also been helpful. Reflective listening is a good skill when The Troll is talking because then they hear what they say and you don’t make it about yourself.

Example #3 – The Hot-and-Cold: I also like to call this walking-on-eggshells because you never know if you will be loved or hated with this person. At my previous job, we had a lot of these and you can’t blame them. If you are tossed around the mental health system like a number that nobody cares about, you’d be hot-and-cold too. I’ve learned that when The Hot-and-Cold in your life is on a “hot” day, don’t be too flattered and don’t let it get to you. The painful part of knowing a Hot-and-Cold is that if you fall for them on a “hot” day, you’re incredibly hurt and upset on a “cold” day. Learn to not take any of the “hot” or “cold” days personally. They’re extreme by nature and it’s not about you.

I didn’t use actual DSM-IV diagnoses because I’m not licensed to do so yet so it wouldn’t be fair to describe people with certain diagnoses with what I said up there (I do it in my head haha). But, the reality is, the more I learn about why people are the way they are, it makes it easier to deal with them.

The common theme is not to make it about you (the same can be said to these three personalities as well). Never take it personally.

Unmarried Women’s Letter to The Church

Dear church family,

We appreciate your concern with our love lives, but we think it is time you take a step back and let us live our lives. There are more aspects to our lives than when we are getting married.

If we haven’t seen you in a while and among the first question you ask us is, “So when are you getting married?” or “Have you met anyone yet?” or “Are you guys going to do pre-engagement counseling?” We guarantee you we will shoot death glare arrows from our pupils into your forehead.

There are often multiple reasons we are the unmarried women of the church. Often times, we have become very devoted to serving in ministry, passionate about God’s people, driven to be a movement. Other times, we have become incredibly excited about our careers, learning and challenging ourselves to be stronger women, climbing a ladder to break a glass ceiling. Sometimes, the partners in our lives are still striving to be in a place where they can comfortable and confidently support us. For some, it’s beyond our control but we don’t need you to keep reminding us that we are who we are.

Our worth is not in our marital status. Your incessant emphasis on marital status feeds the lie to millions of young unmarried women that until they are married, they are not complete.

The truth is, we are complete. We are completed by our passions, our friends, our families, our devotion to God. We are not in some liminal stage, waiting to take the next step. We are not in some limbo season of life. We are living life. We don’t need you to dictate how living a full life looks like, especially if you think marriage is the answer. Do we desire it one day? Yes. Are we to be pitied until we are? No.

So, next time you want to see how we are doing and you’ve already asked the cliche question of “How is your walk with God?” please don’t follow it with a question about our love lives. There is much more to us if you took the time to explore.

Sincerely,

The Unmarried Women

P.S. I used to ask the girl I mentored when I caught up with her, “God, grades, guys?” in order of her life updates. I now regret inventing that mantra. Because life is more than God, grades and guys. Although, I do have an amazing boyfriend, I am kicking ass in graduate school and I’ve never been more in love with God than I am now. Peace out.