This article originally ran in issue 78:11 of the Moody Standard, on May 1, 2013 as an installment of the author’s bi-monthly column, “Writer’s Block.”

It’s overwhelming.

I just walked down to the Houghton 3 lounge to give my mind a rest from writing the article on self-harm and from transcribing a student’s interview on her cutting experiences. Awhile before that I was reading some of our former columns telling stories of students’ pain. And my mind kept interrupting my writing and research; I kept thinking about the pain those closest to me are going through right now.

Then in the lounge, because of what I’ve been reading and transcribing and struggling to write, I looked up at the ceiling, imagining the floors and rooms and spaces above me filled with women who are hurting. The amount of pain and suffering contained in this building — it’s overwhelming.

There’s often an aversion to pain in Christian culture, but we’ve been doing better at Moody these past few years, haven’t we? David Ulrich’s Sackcloth and Tea column opened eyes to what’s beneath the surface of many peers’ smiles. The “Can You Relate” campus events have helped some see that others are dealing with the same issues they are. Efforts have been made, and as one of our articles pointed out, openness to vulnerability is trending.

I’ve seen it outside the Moody bubble as well. I’ve been reading more blogs these days, and have come across a few by Christians who desperately want to reveal how often pain gets pushed aside. “Letters to the Wounded {#2}” on aholyexperience.com was one of the most beautiful things I’ve read in a long time. I recommend it in a heartbeat, if you’re prepared for the likelihood of tears.

I may have fooled myself, though, and been lulled to contentment with the progress I’ve seen, both in and out of Moody, to see and address people’s pain. Just because we’ve made progress doesn’t mean that the problem isn’t still there, and the problem is that people are still walking around this campus shoving intense pain deep inside, sadly, to hide it from the rest of you.

So this new openness could easily be and stay just a trend. Because many of you don’t know who David Ulrich was, and certainly don’t remember his stories. The “Can You Relate” events only served to enlighten those who attended, and the rest of us had to rely on the few who ignored the request that the stories told there were not to be shared. The blogs as well are only a tiny fraction within the fraction of Christians who write and interact with blogs.

This is my last column, and I was going to write about how scared I am about my future — and I am. Desperately. And that’s something we need to talk about too, how scared we all are of the future even when we slap on happy faces and say we’ll figure it out as we go.

But this is more important right now.

You are more important right now. The people around you are more important right now — your pain and their pain, seeing it, addressing it, sharing it, loving each other in and through it, instead of despite it.

So I’m using this, my last opportunity, to tell you that it’s on you now. Look around you and realize that someone is reliving abuse right now; someone is feeling like she just can’t do it anymore; someone just started medication for severe anxiety, and all it’s done is make her nauseated; someone was emotionally abused last night; and someone has scars on his skin from last week’s razor blade.

Stop ignoring it. Stop being shocked. Start seeing it and acknowledging it.

This article originally ran in issue 78:9 of the Moody Standard, on March 6, 2013 as an installment of the author’s bi-monthly column, “Writer’s Block.”

I am not a feminist. Or, at least, I don’t think I am. I’ve even been guilty, in the past, of rolling my eyes at the concept.

My reaction was, in part, one I’d learned from the people around me: actually, from many of you. If I had to generalize the reactions of Moody students toward feminism, it would be ridicule, eye rolling, sarcasm, even disgust. Yes, that’s a stereotype, but it’s an overwhelmingly accurate one, as those were the immediate reactions I received upon telling people I was writing an article on the Feminisms blogging event.

Such reactions may be understandable — if they come from people who know the ins and outs of what they’re reacting to. If that’s you, if you’ve explored and read and researched feminism (specifically, here, Christian feminism), and you still believe strongly against it, then ok. I’m not addressing you. Unfortunately, I’m afraid that’s mostly not the case here. If I were to continue to generalize the atmosphere at Moody in regards to feminism, I would add ignorance — and I would include myself in that.

Why wouldn’t I call myself a feminist? It’s not because I don’t believe in the tenets of feminism, think it’s a gross movement or don’t want to be associated with the word. No, it’s because I haven’t spent enough time researching the arguments for and against it to say if I am. Do I believe that women and men are of equal value and worth as human beings? Yes. And do I believe that women should be treated as having value and worth and that our current culture doesn’t always do so? Yes again. The label of feminist, at its simplest, doesn’t seem to require much else.  

But how many of you think of feminism in terms of man-hating, equal-everything-demanding, angrily-protesting women? How often do Moodies laugh scornfully when they overhear a girl say she is a feminist? Or when she says she’s been made to feel subpar here for being a girl? How often is “feminist” used as a derogatory term, an easy insult of a strong-willed female peer?

There’s a problem here, and it’s not the feminists.

The problem is the guys who say men just don’t find feminism attractive. It’s the women who act as if feminists are an insult to their gender. It’s even me, who feels nervous writing this because part of me doesn’t want to be associated with something held in such low regard by my peers.

There are women at Moody who are passionate about feminism. There are men, both current students and alumni, who have no shame in calling themselves feminists. There are girls who don’t call themselves feminists, because they aren’t ready to take on the connotations — but they care deeply about women’s rights and wish the words “women’s rights” didn’t also receive ridicule.

And their peers mock the passion, shame the label, disregard the efforts of learning. Belittling the passions of a brother or sister in Christ is not a small issue. Making a mockery of someone’s deeply held beliefs is not a joke. And scoffing at others’ journeys to decide for themselves what they think about feminism is not our right, no matter how ridiculous one may think feminism is.

How are these actions loving? How are they excellent or praiseworthy? How are they, in any way, being used to encourage? If you want to engage in the conversation, if you still strongly disagree with the philosophy, then by all means, dialogue. But first, approach it with love, not scorn. Second, spend some time learning why these men and women, your peers, believe what they do. Their blogs, especially with Feminisms Fest having just happened, might be a great place to start. Third, talk to them instead of about them.

And if you don’t have the time, the energy or the desire to put that effort in, there’s one easy solution: don’t say anything.