Feminism in Religion

The other day, I was listening to a Christian Radio station and there was a broadcast of what I assume to be a local church’s sermon. When i turned on my radio, the pastor was in the middle of saying “there was not 1 female angel”. He want on to say that there was a reason that the angels were referred to as “he”. I’m sure said preacher had a point but I didn’t continue listening to see where he was going with this. I do not know all about the Bible. I am still in the infancy of my faith. However, I do not believe that anyone knows for a fact that all the angels were males. A quick search tells me that only a few angels were ever mentioned by name in the Bible. There are possibly a few more mentioned in the Torah or Qur’an, which I doubt this pastor was referring to. Either way out of a “host” of angels having at most 10-15 names you can’t possibly know for certain that ALL the angels were male. The concept of gender, to be quite honest, might not even apply to angels. It reminds me of the male seahorse. Maybe just maybe, what you thought was a male is indeed a female and at that point you are just too ashamed to admit it. Happens to the best of us.
I will always wonder how much of the role women were given in the history of monotheism was because of male traditions at the time. When I was growing up my mother always taught me that women were not supposed to be preachers/ ministers/pastors, etc. but she never explained WHY. When I was younger and thought of God I always pictured a Sistine chapel, old, white, bearded God.sistine chapel god Then in high school, I liked the idea of Black Jesus with dreadlocksblack jesus. Now I much prefer an unknowable God. I like to think of a God too beautiful and terrible to look upon. I would like to believe that our concept of what God sounds and looks like, fail in comparison to who he really is. And if angels are the instruments which God uses to do his work, why couldn’t they be what our frail minds conceive of as “female”? Didn’t God work through Esther? Through Ruth? Through Mary?

What do you think? If I am wrong by all means correct me and let me know.

Mary Jane

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I’m drunk as fuck right now, listening to Rick James’ “Mary Jane”. My first memory of this song dates back to ’94-’95. My mom was dating a guy nicknamed  Woody (put 2 n 2 together there and figure out what he was with my mom for).
He took us all to Galveston where a bird promptly shat on him while we were on a ferry. Due to the fact I had never been to Galveston before and I hated Woody (for reasons we will get to soon enough) all in all it was a good day. On the way back from Galveston Woody stopped at Checkers and got us burgers. Woody always felt like he was getting gypped by buying the combo so he would only get burgers at a restaurant, then stop by a convenience store and get chips and sodas which he said was cheaper. My mom thought this was infinitely stupid, because by the time he drove from a fast food joint, and then paid separate  taxes not to mention gas for Woody’s Camaro he spent more money. Due to the fact a bird had pooped on him earlier that day Woody was  not in the best of moods to hear a woman challenge his intellect.
We had been listening to some Rick James tape, I couldn’t tell you the name of, the entire drive. On cue, Rick James questioned if Mary Jane really loved him. Woody asked the same of my mother. “If she really loved him why would she make him so mad after the day he was having?” He rationalized, his anger boiling up. He made another stop at blockbuster to pick up the movie Dead Presidents.  apparently he had went into the store for something else but they didn’t have it. I spent a long time in the back of his Camaro cramped up. I was a skinny kid (if you can believe it) and I always had to sit behind Woody, who was tall, so that he had enough legroom. Never mind that at 8 I had very long skinny legs. Woody always called me skinny mini because I was like the male version of Pop eyes Olive Oil. My bony ass knees always poked into his back, irritating him more. I had to sit sideways so that I wouldn’t make him mad but then my brother would always complain that I was kicking him. It was a lose lose situation. By the time we got home he was thoroughly pissed. Bird shit on his shoulder, back hurting from an 8 year olds knees and pride hurting from a woman that didn’t see that he was ALWAYS right.
My brother and I had went off to our room after a short while. I tried to stay up to at least hear part of the movie. Out of nowhere an argument started between my mother and Woody. My brother and I tried to ignore it but as the situation got louder it got harder to ignore. Screaming, crying, glass breaking. We couldnt take it anymore! We rushed in to save our mom, who by the time we came into the room had been thrown through a glass table, and punched several times in the face. But try as we could we couldn’t do anything to this grown ass factory worker.
On top of his hitting us too our mom was furious at us for jumping into the situation when she had told us to stay in our room!

Every time I think of that incident I hear Rick James’ Mary Jane as the soundtrack. I picture Dead Presidents on the TV, and envision my mother, bruised and bleeding on the floor. I can still remember how helpless I was, how useless I was. “Do you think you love me Mary Jane?

Matriarchal Success

What does it take for a girl

to succeed in this patriarchal world?

When she was a twinkle in his eye

it took lust

When she was a fire in his loins

it took thrust

When she was a decision for his morals

he was just

When she was defenseless

it took trust

But when it took care, impossibly

she was crushed

Now that girl wounded in pieces

What does she do?

Now that girl wooed as he pleases

She thought she knew

Now That Girl fooled and mistreated

Does she come unglued?

Does she climb atop another Obelisk

Claim a new Ra

Flood and destroy her pyramid

only to lose her

Does she sit as her child dies

Is she akin to Cleopatras imagining

is she Revered like Mary?

or Relegated like Mary Magdalene?

Does she know her ancestor

was a Shaman?

Does she just watch as

manifest destiny happens

What does it take for her to succeed?

Does she require two successful parents

Does she pull herself up by the boot straps

Does she pull herself up by the bra straps

Does she burn her bra & love freely of thought tax

Does she hate the tree & act with a false axe

Is she pantsuits & lawsuits

Is she fishnets & fishscale

Is she blue collar & blue pills

Jerse Shore or Maya Moore Jersey Sales

Is she Pro Life or Pro Love

Is she big girl’s club or Bad Girls Club

Does it take her rape, her pride,

her respect, her objectification,

her humility, her sexuality,

her intelligence, her piece of mind,

her piece of the dream, her morality,

her history, her identity,

HER SOUL to succeed…

And after all that.. is that.. Success?