Not every woman is convinced by egalitarian books or blogs, especially if those books and blogs do not even exist in her world. There are many women who live in an alternative world created by evangelical patriarchy, where the rules are set by those in power and handed down to those below with a smile.
These women wake up every morning to the relentless demands of endless housework, and judgmental neighbors who attend the same church and keep a watchful eye. They go to bed with the same relentless demands from husbands who barely noticed them during the day, but who never fail to notice them at bedtime. They go from maid to wife in less time than it takes to remove the slippers. And they are expected to smile.
But isn't this how life should be? Shouldn't women accept their "role" in life with cheerfulness, and thank God he made them women and not men? Isn't freedom something women should shun "for their own good"? It depends on a lot of things, but mostly on how we see women: are they persons or property? You won't ever hear evangelical patriarchy say women are property, but they are treated as such nevertheless, for humans are known by their freedom of will; a married woman has none.
I have always thought freedom looks like a woman. Kind of like wisdom, and justice, but more... free. She isn't frozen like Lady Liberty, nor is she bound to a town, like Lady Wisdom in Proverbs. Lady Freedom roams the earth freely and suddenly one day I found myself desperately wanting to roam the earth with her.
Not that I wanted to rid myself of my family. I wanted to rid myself of the endless work that came with no pay and few rewards. Families are well-meaning, but they rarely appreciate what women do for them. Slowly the relentless work load began to take its toll. Bitterness and resentment replaced peace as everyone else was free to come and go, but I, the wife and the mother, was stuck in the house with the laundry. At the end of the day there was little to smile about. Yet, I didn't find equality in the laundry room, I found it on the internet.
I had joined a church in Sweden in my mid-Twenties that in retrospect I wish I hadn't, but it was through this crazy, prosperity gospel preaching, partiality loving group that I met my husband, and to make the long story short, I moved to the United States of America and met evangelical patriarchy. I don't think either of us was happy about the meeting.
In the beginning it didn't really bother me. I was a married woman - a step above a single woman - and I had all the freedom that came with being married to an overworked chef. But the day our firstborn arrived, the world tilted and not in my favor.
Now I wasn't just a wife; I was a wife AND a mother, and everyone within the evangelical world felt they had the right to tell me what my proper "role" was. It was one of silence and subservience - sleepless subservience. The freedom I had enjoyed as a single woman, and as a married childless woman, was yanked from me in one violent gesture and I was left helpless to defend myself, for now I was a mother, and the worst thing that could happen to me was that I would be called a bad mother.
I don't know if I was a good or a bad mother, I didn't have time to think about it, for sleep deprivation removed momentarily my ability to think critically - until one day I stumbled over a group on the internet called Factnet and a lot of the members had belonged to the same crazy church I had, and they were telling their stories.
Slowly a very ugly picture began to emerge as I read firsthand accounts of people who had been part of this "church" for years. I had to finally admit to myself that I had been part of a cult, a brainwashing cult that made you believe the leaders were closer to God than you, and your only job was to listen and obey. One day, I decided to challenge one of their leaders, who was posting under a false name. My heart trembled, my hands were sweaty out of fear, but I knew I had to do it. So I did.
Not much happened outside of me as a result of our discussions, but inside of me a rebellion was fomented, one that would not just go away. If the leaders who pretended to speak for God resorted to lies and manipulation when challenged, why should I listen to them? Why should I listen to anyone but God? I took the whole thing a step further - why should my husband make all the decisions? There was nothing wrong with my mind, why shouldn't I use it?
Suddenly the thought that had been in my mind months before returned: if love doesn't seek its own, how can a husband command his wife to obey his preferences?
I went to the bookstore and wandered off to the feminist section. I picked a book from the shelf; I thought I was going to either pass out or throw up, but I bought the book and read it, and then went back for more. I read The Feminine Mystique by Betty Friedan, and the question about homemaking was forever settled in my mind. I agreed with her - the world is larger than a baked potato, and I don't need to bake one if I don't want to. I spent hours studying the writings from the early church and found that our modern theologians would have ended up in a fist fight over their views, for no one considered the woman the man's subject from creation until the 13th century. The lies, the deceptions, the deliberate changes in translations, all sang the same song that would become a lament before the day was over. But by that time, I had found my way to freedom and happiness, for a cage without a locked door works only when the prisoner isn't looking for a way out. As soon as the fear vanishes, the prison evangelical patriarchy builds for every woman is found to be built with tears that dry in the sunshine, and the sun shines on every woman.
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