Why?

I keep seeing the modesty discussion come up on twitter, and frankly, it saddens me a great deal. First, I feel like the discourse isn’t going anywhere. I see a lot of men talking down to women and trying to dictate exactly what they should and should not wear. When you do that, you’re really trying to dominate women.

Look – God doesn’t want that. It doesn’t lead to love, charity, or unity. I DON’T see men being vulnerable and honest about how they struggle with chastity in terms of women’s clothing. They might admit porn use. But, it’s always, “If you wear this, you’re causing me to sin!” rather than, “Here’s where I really struggle in daily life with regards to this.” Clerically Speaking had a good discussion about this.

Porn addiction and sexual compulsions are tough, but I do believe fixing all of this stuff is possible. It’s hard, it takes work. And your progress probably won’t be linear: you’ll try and fail; but maybe the next time you’ll try and won’t fail at it so fast. Conforming yourself to Christ is hard work, and it’s the work of a lifetime.

And that’s what we want, right? If you’re reading this, I’m assuming the reason you care about modesty is that you want to become holy and have a relationship with Jesus. I see a lot of people on twitter saying how doing X will make them a saint: becoming a priest, or having a bunch of kids, or having a traditional marriage, etc. Those plans might come to fruition, but then again, they might not. Life has a funny way of upending the best of plans.

I felt the same way in my when I was young. Mass, rosary, Adoration, Penance. Achieve chastity inside and outside of marriage. NFP. A holy marriage, children, etc. Feeling like I had cracked the formula for holiness.

All of these things are good, and necessary things to do!

But then, I noticed something. Self satisfaction. Spiritual pride sometimes, but more often spiritual complacency. Thinking I was winning because I was doing better than 99% of the people out there.

And then I noticed something else: I have several close family members that did exactly what I did: rosary every day, mass most days, protesting at the abortion clinic, no birth control in marriage. And these close family members hated everyone else. HATED them. They judged people. They talked about them behind their back. They were nosy. And they hurt the people they talked about.

So, going through the motions and following formulas for sanctity isn’t necessarily a guarantee you’ll end up closer to Jesus. The only thing to fix this is LOVE. The practical love that tells us we need to have charity for people we disagree with. Yes, we still might notice someone in yoga pants, but, in charity, a) decide not to judge them for wearing the yoga pants and b) focus on something else in the moment. Yelling at people for wearing the yoga pants (in person or online) isn’t going to spread the love of Jesus. Actually going outside of yourself and loving other people will spread the love of Jesus. Love sanctifies. So, here’s a list of things you can do to actually love other people instead of tearing them down.

Corporal Works of Mercy

• Support your local food pantry: volunteer, organize and collect donations from your parish, or raise money for them.
• Buy gift certificates to restaurants for new parents, those who are sick, and homeless folks you encounter. You can also bring folks a home cooked meal, too.
• Volunteer with meals on wheels
• Support clean water initiatives where you live, including infrastructure. Many of the pipes we rely on were laid in the early to mid 20th century. They’re going to need an upgrade, and we really will need to rally political will to fix these infrastructure problems. T
• Support sanitation efforts in countries without good sanitation. Got an engineering degree? How about reinventing the toilet?
• Donate time, money, and goods to homeless shelters.
• Support affordable housing in your community.
• Support efforts to help people who can’t pay rent. It’s cheaper to help someone with rent for a few months rather than house them completely.
• Support a moratoriums on evictions for people affected by the coronavirus; also demand banks defer mortgages.
• Visit the sick and the elderly at home or in the hospital.
• Volunteer at nursing homes.
• Lobby for preferential option for the poor to access healthcare.
• Actually, lobby that we ALL get good healthcare.
• Visit folks in prison.
• Volunteer to help kids who have family members in prison.
• Help out a family member who’s struggling pay for a funeral.
• Pray for those who have died.
• Send a card or flowers to grieving people.
• Remember veterans, first responders, and all who have died in service to others.
• Have masses said for the dead.
• Some parishes have a Funeral Committee who cook or bake for receptions that the parish holds after a funeral. I had no idea this committee even *existed* in my childhood parish until my father’s funeral. We really appreciated that small reception after the funeral.

Parish

• Pray for the health and growth of your parish
• Join one! Even if you’re only staying for a year between school programs or deployments, join a parish and volunteer to what ministries you can.
• Leadership skills? If there is something you’d like to see at your parish, how about starting a ministry?
• Even though it’s not in the catechism, I’m pretty sure people who volunteer to teach CCD get years shaved off their time.

Laudato SI

• Invent a system of reusable packaging for consumer goods and food. Remember blockbuster? To watch a movie you’d need to rent something called a video tape. Blockbuster had reusable durable plastic containers, with reusable label/cover with a barcode. If we could make a system like THAT, but better, for consumer goods (and dare I say, food), we’d end up producing less waste.
• Recycle, if you can.
• Start a recycling company where you live. We ship most of our recyclables to China. China stopped accepting them, so they’re just being incinerated.
• Support sustainability efforts in your local communities.
• Turn off the lights when you leave a room.
• Build better, long lasting, reusable batteries. Parents will thank you.

Domestic Violence

• Support Domestic Violence shelters in your community.
• Ask your parish priest to give a homily on domestic violence. The problem is *everywhere*, and yet it’s never addressed at the pulpit. Here’s Fr. Charles Dahm speaking about domestic violence.
• Create a group of volunteers to provide moving services for women who need to escape abusive homes
• Work for better stalking and harassment laws. Remember, St. Maria Goretti was stalked and harassed long before she was stabbed to death. Also, someone you know HAS been stalked or harassed, but, in many places, the laws are inadequate to hold stalkers accountable.
• Support legislation to protect women from domestic violence. When South Carolina ranked as one of the worst states for DV, activists were hopeful that better laws would be enacted to protect women. All of the laws the proposed to help women (like gun restrictions for violent men) stalled in the legislature, except one. The ONE law that was passed? A court order to protect the PETS of victims of domestic violence.
• Support victims you know who experience domestic violence. Your support could help abusers see (some) justice.

Women

• 995 out of 1000 rapists GO FREE. This is a tough problem, with no easy solutions. But there are too many men who get no jail time even when rape is reported. There is a lot of work needed to help rape victims and to hold rapists accountable. One thing we can do?Process rape kits. There are hundreds of thousands of rape kits mouldering in law enforcement offices, but departments lack the political will and funding actually test them. When Detroit tested its kits, it found a staggering amount of serial rapists. Call your local reps to prioritize funding for this!
• Hold local law enforcement and officers of the justice system accountable for enforcing rape and sexual assault laws.
• Childcare. Most people have children, and yet, most families have trouble finding good childcare. As always, fixing this problem will take a partnership between the public/political realm, families, and employers.
• Work/life balance. When paid and unpaid word is tallied up, women work 39 days more per year than men. Many women feel like they are ultimately the ones responsible for running the household. Ultimately, its going to take men to honestly look at what their wives are doing and really taking ownership over the household chores.

Racism

Wow, this is a big one.

I’ve been reading and hearing reactions to George Floyd’s death and one question people keep asking is how do we know whether or not George Floyd’s death is racially motivated.

And honestly, I can’t provide that answer. I can’t read other people’s minds. But I think the question is telling. Instead of asking what the motives are, we should ask ourselves how a police officer could kneel on a person’s back for 9 minutes – while being filmed, with bystanders telling him to stop – and NOT think he would face punishment for that?

What does it mean that a man has to die over $20? That our civil authorities kill someone over something so little?

Why do we spend billions – yes, billions – to pay for police misconduct settlements? The system acknowledges the problem by settling lawsuits, paying victims and lawyers, and selling municipal bonds when the cost gets too high. While the system acknowledges the problem, do our HEARTS acknowledge it?

Love demands that we try to understand where people are coming from when they talk about race. Asking a question blithely about Derek Chauvin’s motives ignores a lot of the research that has been done about police brutality. The first step, really, is education.

Mental Health

• Reach out to folks you know who are depressed, anxious, and struggling. People who are struggling might have a really hard time getting help. It’s hard to find a good therapist, and find one who accepts your insurance. People who are depressed might not have the energy to deal with this stuff.
• Support mental health funding in your community.

Education

• Children are basically being thrown into padded rooms for minor infractions, even if they have autism or other developmental problems. Some kids are even committing suicide because of quiet rooms. My son has autism. I’ve seen several posts from parents on the autism boards where their child has been physically injured while being restrained; but children do die of being restrained as well.
• Volunteer to tutor kids who need it.
• Invest in your schools and become involved in them to make them better.

Everything ELSE

• Pray for people, and let them know you’re doing so.
• Babysit. It’s a huger need than you’d think.
• Volunteer to teach technology to adults and children
• Spend time arguing on elderly relatives behalf to the cable company/cell phone company/medical insurance company. This is true charity.
• If you’re healthy, volunteer at a polling station.
• AAAAND everything else.

Ugh, That’s a Big List

Yeah. I didn’t even put inequality, immigration, sex trafficking or wage theft or littering on there.

The list goes on and on. And there will always be new things added to the list. I know what you’re thinking…I can’t do all these things! And the truth is, no one can. But you can pick ONE thing to work on. Choosing to do one of these things, instead of starting another modesty debate, will sanctify you if done from Love.

And it will sanctify the world: through our love, other people will experience the love of God.

I decided to go to the evening mass at my church on Holy Thursday. I wanted to go so I could bring my week to the Lord. I also wanted to makeup for a bad Lent. I decided to give up worrying for 40 days, which, when you have anxiety is rough. Even if I wasn’t successful, it at least got me thinking about worrying versus anxiety, and what that means about my faith.

I also did not abstain from meat, for the first time ever. I decided that I would not because I have PLMD due to anemia. And I decided to not give up another food instead of meat, because I’m tired a lot due to anemia, PLMD, and DSPD. I seriously need the energy. I told God that I just couldn’t do Lent like I usually do this year, and decided to let Him forgive me for it.

So, I went to the 7:15pm mass. The church was packed. It’s a beautiful church, and we always have a lot of visitors to pray in front of the Blessed Sacrament in front of the Altar of Repose after mass.

I had mixed feelings coming to my parish that night. I really like the church, but the parish is pretty conservative for my taste. I knew that only men were going to have their feet washed that night, and that’s pretty difficult for me to accept. Growing up, I didn’t know that only men had their feet washed. We typically went to Stations of the Cross on Good Friday, but not mass on Holy Thursday. When I moved to the neighborhood and starting attending this parish, I went to mass on Holy Thursday for the first time and noticed that only men had their feet washed. I’m glad Pope Francis started washing women’s feet, too, but I’m also sad that it sparked an argument around the custom.

The priest began his homily – about how the church isn’t prejudiced against women, and that it doesn’t allow 99.5% of the population to be priests, as most men aren’t cut out for the priesthood, either. He followed with telling us that we are the folks who can reach people he can’t reach, as a priest. I thought about Nina. I guess I reached her that week. I stopped her from committing suicide. I had to call the cops to stop her, but at least she was still alive.

It was a difficult homily to hear. I flashed back to my conversation with Nina. At one point, she started apologizing, “I’m sorry, but I don’t have a dick.”

I asked her what she meant – and she did not explain it, she just repeated it. But I knew what she meant. She was tired, as a lot of us women get. She had gone to AA, and a man had admitted to raping women, after she had been raped at 15. She had been an engineering manager, and ended up hiding under her desk to cry because of the pressure. Pressure to be everything to everyone. Trying to be assertive – and if succeeding being called too aggressive, and if failing being called too passive. To try to be a manager and not be considered too authoritative, or too weak. It’s a crazy line we have to walk all of the time. Or being told that she needed to couldn’t say no to her husband, even when he wanted to pee on her. Or to always be the dutiful daughter for her parents, who didn’t support her, and criticized everything she did.

During the feet washing, I wondered why I was there. I wanted to go back to my car and cry. I thought I shouldn’t be there – that I had been through too much that week already. But I stayed, hoping.

At communion, I got to receive Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament. And then the priests processed, followed by a small crowd, to the Altar of Repose.

Then the mass ended. People everywhere began to get up – some to go to the Altar of Repose to pray, or to take a picture. The line for confession opened up, and I joined it. Confession was good – short and businesslike because of the line. This was good for me – I didn’t want to have a long conversation with a priest that night. And it fulfilled my wish to get to confession during Holy Week – to do ONE small thing for God, who carries me through.

And, I started feeling better. I felt happier, lighter. The church was filled with joy. People were laughing and talking. Groups of people shuffled through, taking pictures because they were visiting Seven Churches. The church felt looser, and more alive as people skirted the aisles, touring the church. I decided to leave after saying a few prayers – too soon, actually. I rushed home because I remembered that my husband may need to put in extra work. It turned out he was fine, and we had a late dinner. I felt better. I knew that I couldn’t save Nina, but it wasn’t my job. But I could walk with her through the difficult time she was having, with God’s help.

Image by falco from Pixabay

When my husband got home on the day Nina threatened to commit suicide, he took one look at me and said that I should text the babysitter to have her watch Bubba in the afternoon to get a break. She was free, so I decided to try to get out of the house.

Monday I had planned to go to church and go to confession, but Nina called. I debated about doing so Tuesday, but I decided not to. Going into Holy Week I had been frazzled, but Nina’s call just about did me in. Confession can be a bit emotional for me at times, and I did not want to go into the confessional just to cry. I needed some emotional distance from the previous day. I was not overwrought, per se. I was very tired, and very sad. I knew if I stayed home, I would just ruminate over the situation.

To be honest, I feel a bit mournful about Nina. I’ve known her for ten years, and she used to be one of the most vivacious people I had ever met. She was super smart, but she always made other people feel comfortable because she always knew what to say (I did not, and I still do not). She laughed easily in conversations and she made friends wherever she went (and she’s a world traveller, so she’s been everywhere). She seemed to be pretty successful, too. She recommended me for a job in a company she worked for, and when I started working there, I found out Nina was fairly popular. In her first year at the company she spoke at it’s main conference on the improvements her team was making and ran a seminar on the technology they were developing. So, I mourn over what is happening to her on two levels: for her as a friend; and for her, as a colleague. Not many people can lead engineering teams well, and she seemed to have the mix of people and tech skills to do it.

I also have a lot of difficult feelings about her and my brother. They were together for over 3 years. Their breakup wasn’t pretty, and my brother still hates her. I really can’t hate her, though. While they both hurt each other, she did bring a lot of good in his life for a bit of time. She definitely brought him confidence in dating, and smoothed out some of his rough edges. He started dating someone new, whom he married, after he and Nina split up.

When I say I mourn for her, I mean that I feel grief over the fact of what she and I have both lost. I feel like I’ve lost a friend, in a sense. We aren’t friends in the sense that we have a mutual relationship right now. She needs someone to lean on, but I don’t lean on her. She has lost a lot, too. She has lost her career. She isn’t working right now. She is struggling with staying sober. She’s dating a guy she met in AA. He seems like an okay guy, but Nina has told me that she really can’t stand being alone. I hope her relationship is good, but I just don’t know. And I know that she’s lost her relationship with her sister over her drinking, too. She has just lost so terribly much.

I didn’t want to think about everything Nina has lost. I didn’t want to think about our lost friendship. I didn’t want to think about my own anxiety and depression, because I feel like I could have easily landed in her shoes. So I decided I didn’t want to confront or dwell on things: I needed to clear my head! So, I decided to go shoe shopping instead of to church. This was a mistake.

I haven’t seriously bought shoes for the past couple of years, since I usually buy good quality shoes that last me for awhile. I have flat feet and plantar fasciitis, so I usually look for brands with some support, and I usually wear shoes seasonally. In Chicago, the weather usually dictates boots in the winter (snow boots, ankle boots, or knee high boots), spring/fall I usually go for flats, and sandals in the summer. I like flats for the spring and fall when the weather isn’t too warm but you’re tired of the boots.

When the weather started getting better, I pulled out my favorite pairs of flats and noticed that none of them fit. Suddenly my shoes were not long enough: my big toe runs against the edge of the shoe, or the toe box is too tight. I’ve been living in sneakers since I had my son, so I haven’t worn them for a couple of years.

I decided that it would be good to get out and clear my head by going shopping and wow, this turned out to be a monumentally bad idea.

First: I’m really bad at selfcare, and my feet are not really fit for display. I had not done my toenails since October, so I took a little time to remove the remaining polish on my big toes. But my heels were dry and calloused, and they were noticeable even though I was wearing the little sheer footies you wear while trying on shoes.

Second: the whole shopping experience was bad. Just plain B-A-D.

The first place I walked into was the Macy’s in Watertower. Me and another woman browsed the ladies section, completely unhelped, for a solid ten minutes. Scanning the floor, there was a woman standing, also unhelped, for several minutes as I browsed. The opposite side of the floor seemed a bit busier, but since I didn’t see any employees even come to check if there was activity in the woman’s section. I left without trying anything on.

I visited Clark’s shoes, and got a little more help. I still had to wait several minutes for the lone sales person to start helping me, as she was helping someone else. Another sales person came out from the back after more people showed up. I didn’t buy anything from Clark’s because none of their shoes fit quite right: they were either too short and rubbed my big toe, or too long and completely slipped in the heel.

I went to the Walking Company and found some nice Dansko Mary Janes. I had really wanted a different type of flat, but the shoes I purchased are good for the spring weather.

The last stop was Nordstrom’s, which was truly disappointing.

The last time I shopped at Nordstroms for shoes (which was a few years ago now) I had a really good experience. The salesman who worked with me asked me what I was looking for, and brought out his suggestions. On top of some good suggestions, he brought out foot pads to get some of the shoes to fit better. I ended up buying a couple of really good pairs from him.

This time I went to Nordstroms was an entirely different experience. I didn’t like the selection. A woman asked me if I needed help, and I asked to try on a shoe in an 8.5 wide, if it came in wide. She went back to check, and another salesman came back out. He told me that they did not have an 8.5 wide, gave me a pair of the shoes in an 8 medium. He ran off before I even tried them on (of course they did not fit, they were too small). He didn’t stay to see if the shoes fit or not; nor did he offer to bring me a size 9.

I walked out of Nordstroms after trying on one pair of shoes.

Other than the Walking Company, the whole experience sucked. Getting help at the stores took a long time. There were multiple times that I asked for an 8.5 and the salesperson brought me an 8, instead of a 9. Sales folks used to bring you out a different color of the shoe in your size AND one size up to see which size was right. And a lot of the shoes just fit funny.

None of this helped to really clear my head, either. Instead I just kept wondering why the service in shoe stores had nosedived in the past few years. Is this the main reason why there is a retail apocalypse? I thought the main reasons were that shopping online is usually considered cheaper, and the PE firms keep buying up retail and loading them with unsustainable debt. This is not something I really want to think about as a consumer going out to spend money.

In the end, I think I should have gone to church instead of shopping. I might have not found consolation in church, but I at least could have done some good by praying for Nina!

Image by cocoparisienne from Pixabay

Unlike most of the town, I look forward to Mondays. Technically it’s my day “off.” I’m a stay at home mom, but my son goes to daycare on Mondays and Fridays. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays are devoted to my son Bubba’s various autism therapies. I woke when I heard my husband leave the house with Bubs, but lingered in bed dozing until I got a call from my friend Nina. It was just before 9:30.

Nina told me she was thinking about killing herself.

This isn’t the first time she has called me in crisis. I’ve known Nina for almost 10 years. We met through mutual friends, and had a common women-in-tech bond. After she left her husband, she started dating my younger brother. Their relationship didn’t end well, because her drinking got out of control.

Nina has always drank heavily, and when we were younger it didn’t seem to affect her negatively. She moved the US after she graduated high school after being a foreign exchange student. Her parents applied for the immigration lottery, and luckily were able to move to the US (along with her younger sister) from St Petersburg. Everyone in the family drank heavily. When Nina told her family she was an alcoholic, her father firmly told Nina that alcoholism “was just an idea that the Americans made up” and her mother told her she just needed to “behave” when she was out socially.

Since Nina and my brother ended their relationship, I haven’t really seen her much. I’ve kept my distance because she really loved my brother (and to be honest, she still does). I know if I were her, I would need some space. I don’t hear from her much, unless she’s having a really tough time.

Usually she calls me when she’s feeling like taking a drink. I usually try to cheer her up and talk through what is making her want to drink. Usually we talk through it, and then she’ll start asking about how I’m doing. I’ll crack some jokes, tell her about Bubs and how my husband is doing, and whatever stupid thing happened to me lately (like getting stared down by a barista and realizing after I got home the huge rip in the thigh I had in my jeans, or getting kissed by a weird guy while walking the dog….there’s always something).

Talking her through a tough day usually works, but this time, things were different.

She was drunk. She told me exactly how she was going to kill herself. She told me she couldn’t cope with her pain anymore. She told me she had been raped, multiple times, by her swim coach when she was 15, and groped everyday on the metro from the time she was 10 growing up in St Pete’s.

The worse part: these memories were brought up while she was in an AA meeting. A man admitted to forcing himself on women while he was drinking. Nina couldn’t take it, and left.

I had no words to comfort her.

It’s hard to say that I will pray for her. Nina doesn’t believe in God in the same sense as I do; she more believes “in the universe,” which I still don’t quite understand. When she starts talking about God and the universe, she starts spouting facts about space, and I can’t quite see exactly what she believes in (she does not sound like a reddit atheist). We only talk about God when she’s in crisis, and, usually drunk.

I’ve tried to explain that I believe in Jesus, who is a person who I’m trying to have a good relationship with. She once asked me how does somebody have a relationship with God, and I told her prayer. “Really?” she asked, sounding incredulous. I told her she couldn’t have a relationship with someone you don’t talk to. But saying “thoughts and prayers” is hard, given its connotation in recent days. To unbelievers, “thoughts and prayers” means sympathy without definitive action to change anything. While I don’t think that’s true, I understand why they feel that way in regards to gun control.

As I was speaking to Nina, I began to feel more and more worried. She didn’t want to go to the hospital, because she told me they would just put her in solitary and it wouldn’t help her much. I asked her if she had talked to her therapist, and her therapist had just told her to go to the hospital. I asked if therapy was helping – it sounded like no. I asked if meds were helping – yes and no, but she wanted to take a drug to help her with cravings, but no one would prescribe it for her.

I tried to figure out where she was. She started talking about Morris, the town where her boyfriend lives. A few months ago she told me she was going to put her house up for sale, so with how she talked about Morris, I got scared because I didn’t know her address. I asked to see her – she didn’t want me to come over, nor did she want to come to see me. Throughout the conversation, we talked about a lot of things; but I couldn’t figure out how to get her to give me the address.

We talked for over three hours. I asked her what was going on in her life – she was fostering a 15 year old girl (unofficially) and I found out the girl was at school. This alarmed me even more – what if this kid walked in on her dead body? And should Nina even be taking care of someone else when she was having a difficult time?

I started asking her about the 15 year old she took in. Nina told me the girl likes to listen to rap, of all things, and doesn’t even know about the Beatles. “Well, you’ve got to teach her,” I said. I was trying to steer the conversation to a lighter subject, to see if I could make her feel better just enough for her to listen to what I had to say, and go see someone right away. Nina asked me if I ever listened to Queen – especially a song called The Miracle. “You should listen to it!” she said. “Right now?” I asked. Yes – she wanted to listen to the song. So I put it on my computer, which killed the facebook messenger call session I was talking to her on. I told her I’d listen to it later, but it seemed kind of random she wanted me to listen to that song.

We talked some more, and I finally got her to agree to see me on Easter. I told her me and the family could drive down to her boyfriend’s town to visit, but she told me she wasn’t living with her boyfriend, she was still living in her old house in another suburb – and she told me her address.

At that point in the conversation, I was feeling better about her mental state. We had made future plans, and she seemed to be in better spirits.

I was wrong.

Once I got off the phone with her, I called my husband. He told me if I called the cops, she just might lie to them and tell them she was okay. I agreed, and decided not to call the cops, and got something to eat.

An hour later, Nina began to text me. She started talking about a trip to Ireland, ghosts, and how she saw a ghost in a haunted castle, and how she used to see ghosts living in her old condo in Printer’s Row. I asked her what the ghosts said to her, and she said they just wanted to pass along the message. After mentioning this several times, I asked her what message they wanted to convey. The message was the song.

She was talking about the song – The Miracle – by Queen.

At that point, I realized that she had gone incoherent. Then she started talking about killing herself again.

I called the local police in the burb she lives. They transferred me to dispatch, and kept me on the line as I explained the situation. They asked me to keep texting her as they were approaching the house.

Once the police had gotten in her house and made contact, the dispatcher let me know that they had everything under control.

It was hard to call the cops. I didn’t know if they would help her. In fact, I’m pretty sure that a stint in the psych ward wouldn’t really help her long term. It would keep her out of immediate danger, so I had to do what I had to do. And I felt ambivalent helping the cops keep her there involuntarily. But I did it anyway. An officer at the house called me. He asked me for my side of the story. When I told him about the texts, he asked me for screenshots where she threatened to kill herself, so they could keep her in the hospital longer.

I sent them.

I sent them, knowing they would just throw her in solitary confinement for a week. That it wouldn’t really help. But I did all the same.

I just didn’t know how to handle the situation better. I felt, and still feel, so ill equipped to help in situations like these.

What do you say to someone in crisis?

Most of the things we tell folks who are in some sort of crisis, or who are grieving or who are sick is just plain crap.

“God never gives you more than you can handle.”

That saying is bullshit. People wouldn’t commit suicide if God didn’t “give” us more than we can handle. We have free will, which means that we can hurt others so badly that they will eventually commit suicide. God gave us this free will, and he must have know that we could, and would, use it in such a way as this.

And really, is it God giving us more than we can handle – or is it other people in this case? I would say all of the people who sexually assaulted Nina gave her something she couldn’t handle. She told me she can’t cope with her feelings, and her brain tells her the only way out is suicide.

So, I can’t tell Nina that God never gives you more than you can handle. It’s so insensitive to almost be comical.

And it’s hard to tell her I’ll pray for her – because of the connotations “thoughts and prayers,” have to her and everyone else fed up about gun control. Telling her I’ll pray for her is no comfort to her, even though I WILL pray for her.

The only thing I could do was listen, and then call the cops.

Image by Public Co from Pixabay

Content Warning: This post includes stories of rape and sexual assault.

I’ve been thinking about writing this post ever since the archdiocese in my hometown released its list of priests who have been credibly abused of sexually abusing minors. I don’t really *want* to write this post. I feel compelled to, because while I never have been molested or assaulted myself, the scandal has affected me in several different ways. In short: it has not shaken my faith in the Lord. But it has weakened my faith, affection, respect in trust in not only the church, but in the members of my flesh and blood family. In very concrete ways, I can see how particular rape accusations have played in my own family mirror how they have played out in the church.

When the scandal about McCarrick broke, I began thinking about my aunt Elle,* my Mom’s twin sister. Elle and I were really close growing up. We visited Elle, her husband Earl, and our cousins the more than the rest of our extended family. Mom was closer to Elle than her other sisters. Elle’s daughters were older than me, and they babysat us growing up. My brothers and I remained close that set of cousins until we started marrying off and having kids.

Years ago, my Mom told me that Elle was raped by her parish priest as an adult. This was pretty difficult to hear, because to me, it felt like hearing your second mother was raped. This priest visited her at home several times to give her spiritual “counseling.” He raped her one day when her husband was on the road for work. She never reported the priest. When I asked why, Mom told me that Elle thought her husband would shoot the priest when he found out. I’m not really sure if that is what my uncle would have done, but he has always kept several firearms around his house, and he knows how to use them.

I think there might have been another reason Elle did not report this priest. Elle knew that her family would not support her once the allegations became public.

My Mom never completely believed Elle. When I asked Mom why she didn’t report it, she actually scoffed. She said that she didn’t know why Elle didn’t report the rape – that Elle was probably only making things up for attention.

What’s funny about that is – why would Mom tell me about Elle’s story if she thought it was complete BS?

And even though I was young, and naive about these things, in my heart of hearts, I knew what Elle said was true.

I do think Elle was telling the truth. For starters, Elle must have only told a couple of people, maybe even only my Mom. I haven’t heard the story from anyone else. My extended family is huge – Mom is one of 12 siblings. If I hear a piece of gossip about family from my Mom, chances are 100% I will hear it again from someone else. Yes, even something as bad as this. Hell, *especially* if it something as bad as this. If Elle did make the story up for attention, why wouldn’t she tell more people? And why make up a rape for attention?

The second reason I think she was telling the truth is that I know that she stopped attending her regular parish for a few years. I remember she mentioned this to us sadly one day, but she didn’t elaborate on why in the moment. My hometown archdiocese rotated priests every several years, so all she needed to do was to wait until this particular priest was reassigned to a new parish.

I never asked Elle about it. I was too young at the time to know how to approach the conversation. At that time, rape wasn’t something I would bring up unless she brought it up with me first. I would have been unsure to talk to her about it, since I don’t know if she wanted me (or anyone else) to know.

Unfortunately, this priest might never see justice. Elle died of cancer several years ago. I often wonder if the #metoo movement and Pittsburgh allegations would have spurred her to report the rape. But I do understand why she did not at the time – why report when your own twin sister doesn’t have your back, and you’re not sure what your husband is going to do?

Why didn’t Mom believe Elle? I’ve never sat her down to ask her why, but to be honest – she doesn’t really believe most women who come forward with accusations. I was 11 or so when Anita Hill testified against Clarence Thomas during his confirmation hearings. I don’t know how most people reacted to the story or how it played out in the press at the time. What I *do* remember was hearing about it one night on the evening news. I asked Mom what Clarence Thomas actually did to Anita Hill when the newscaster said that he had sexually harassed her. Instead of giving me any details, Mom said that Hill had NOT been sexually harassed – she was making it all up to discredit Thomas. In case you’re wondering – no, Mom didn’t believe the women who accused Brett Kavanaugh, either. There have been countless others my Mom didn’t believe – women who were “just looking for money” or “just looking for attention,” or just people that my Mom deemed “crazy.”

But isn’t that just how the institutional church has looked at victims of sexual assault over the years?

Five sisters from the Missionaries of Jesus had to start a public protest to get authorities to arrest Bishop Franco Mulakkal of Jalandhar for raping one of their sisters thirteen times over a two year period. They felt they needed to protest to get civil authorities to arrest the bishop, after their repeated reports from everyone to their local parish priest to the Vatican were ignored or dismissed.

Having the support of these five sisters, and family, was crucial as the bishop and many priests have denied the charges; and the civil authorities did not arrest the bishop until after the protests.

And, I think this is the main reason why Elle didn’t report the rape by her pastor. It’s hard to fight this type of injustice without family support. When an abuser is supported by their institution, it means that people in that institution are coming together to support the abuser – and a survivor needs friends and family who also come together to help in the fight.

In extreme cases, lack of family support can turn the police against a rape victim. ProPublica documented a case of an eighteen year old woman who was raped in her apartment one day by a man who left little physical evidence. When her foster mom told police she thought the young woman might have made the story up to get attention, they charged her with making a false report. It turned out the rape actually did happen. Police caught the rapist in another jurisdiction, and the photos the rapist took of the young woman were found in his house and traced back to her. This story is amazing in that justice eventually prevailed, but chilling in the fact that the rape charges were dismissed in the first place.

I mentioned the case to my husband, and he said that if he was a police detective he wouldn’t believe the young woman’s story, either. I told him that I thought that it was their job to really listen to their victim over family members.

Survivors have a rough hill to climb. The strange bias that they might be making up a false rape claim for attention is very strong. It boggles the mind when people think women make rape accusations to get famous or for attention. If you think this is true, tell me: off of the top of your head, can you name 10 women who accused Cosby of rape? How about 5? The only one I remember is the one who brought charges against Cosby. Very few sexual assault survivors become famous for making assault claims.

Another problem survivors have is that they also get accused of “not acting like a real rape victim,” as if there is a standard way that all rape victims should act. We need to face the fact that most of how we think about rape, like how survivors act, how they recall details, and the amount of physical evidence isn’t really grounded in reality. Typically, it’s grounded in what we’ve seen through pop culture: police procedural dramas, cable tv movie dramatization of real cases, etc.

This is why family support is crucial. Just as my aunt needed our family’s support, this nun needs support against the church, civil authorities, and members of her community that do not believe her.

Will things change? Pope Francis has since acknowledged the abuse of nuns by priests, and has stated that more needs to be done.

I think his acknowledgment will definitely help women come forward, but I’m not sure that the structures are in place in the hierarchical church to support adults who accuse bishops and priests of sexual assault yet. Accusations that priests abuse nuns are not new: in the 90’s, one woman reported that 29 nuns had been impregnated by priests in one congregation. It is unclear whether or not the Vatican has developed procedures to speedily investigate claims made by adults against clergy. Given the lack of response in this recent case, it doesn’t sound like it has.

And I think the reactions of many of our priests and bishops, and the reaction that my Mom had towards Elle, all makes me very sad, and very depressed.

Because deep down, I wonder: where is the Holy Spirit in all of this?

My Mom is known in her family as the religious one in my family. She prays everyday, she’s active in her church, and she often goes to daily mass. But she didn’t offer any kindness, understanding, or charity to my aunt. Was she given wisdom? God’s understanding?

What about our priests, bishops, and our (current and future) popes? Do they have the gifts, and fruits of the Holy Spirit, to handle sexual abuse faithfully, fairly, and quickly?

See for me, this crisis isn’t solely about “purifying” the church. The crisis, to me, is a real eye-opener as to who, and how, the Holy Spirit moves people.

I think I get part of it. Women don’t have a lot of power in the church. Children don’t, either. Neither do vulnerable adults, seminarians, and well, most of laity.

And Jesus didn’t want us to worry about how much power, money, or fame someone has. Everyone has dignity to him. And everyone is loved by Him. When we don’t acknowledge human dignity, and when we forget to love, then our biases and prejudices creep in. And before you know it – that’s when we stop listening to the Holy Spirit.

This is why bishops have treated survivors so abominably. It’s why they’ve refused to meet with survivors, or why they haven’t apologized to them, or why they say things downplaying the scandal.

When we stop listening to the Holy Spirit, we don’t take survivors, or their claims, seriously. We do not have the charity to listen to them. We don’t have the understanding to really ‘get’ how the abuse has hurt them. We do not have the counsel to judge these situations correctly, either. The hierarchy not only judged many of the situations inappropriately in individual cases, they didn’t understand how much the laity would be hurt and angered by their patterns of shuffling abusive around. Underpinning all of this: a complete lack of wisdom.

I think this is why Pope Francis advocates for shepherds to be close to their sheep. To be close: to love, but also to see, to understand, and ultimately, to gain wisdom.

I can only pray that the Holy Spirit pours out upon everyone in the church.

*Elle and Earl’s names have been changed

Image by Holger Schué from Pixabay

A few weeks ago, I went out on a mission: to find a pair of nice, black dress pants. The mission seemed simple – black pants are a staple in stores from fall to spring, so I should have a lot of options, right? I wanted a pair that I could dress up or down, to wear to church on Christmas, or to a nice dinner with my husband. Wearing a dressier top with black pants suits me better than wearing a dress simply because Chicago in the wintertime can be brutally cold. Being warm is my main goal in the wintertime, and I want to be comfortable wherever I need to go.

Alas, my shopping mission did not end in success. The reason why is that I’m plus sized, and options are limited in choice of cuts in pants.

My biggest problem is that I’m of average height – 5’6’, carry my weight in my hips and thighs, and I’m short waisted. Being short waisted is what really gets me into trouble.

Being short waisted means that my torso is shorter in proportion to the bottom half of my body, which means that the cuts of most plus size pants are off for me. If I buy a mid-rise pant, the waistband falls on or above my belly button. High-rise pants usually go up much past the waistline, sometimes to a couple of inches under my bust.

So pretty much all pants, even mid-rise pants, can be extremely uncomfortable due to what I call “long crotch.” Either the crotch is too long initially, or if wearing stretch fabrics, the pants settle at my natural waist, and the crotch hangs too low. It becomes uncomfortable when the crotch seam rubs the inner thighs. I’ve even had welts from crotch seams rubbing in the summer.

So I promised myself: no buying pants that don’t fit anymore! The crotch of the pant must come up to your natural crotch, and the waistline cannot be too high and dig into your stomach!

But none of the pants I tried on could fit this criteria. When I wasn’t plus size, I would just opt for a trouser that was classified as low-rise, knowing that when I put them on, they would not be too long in the crotch and would fit like a mid-rise pant, coming up a bit under my belly button.

But I am plus size, and low-rise pants are FORBIDDEN.

The cynical side of me thinks that’s why the body positivity movement had to be invented – so that we plus size women will keep a positive attitude and keep trying to look good, even while we keep running right smack into an industry that still severely limits our options.

So, I left the stores without completing my mission. Scouring the internet has not given me much luck, either. At this point, online shopping takes me as long as shopping in person. It takes time scanning through product descriptions looking for the front and back rise measurements of the pants, or reading through reviews to find out if anyone mentions how they fit.

With this in mind, I found Robin Givhan’s recent article “What kind of mission is fashion trying to send plus-size women” kind of exasperating. My first thought? I don’t give a shit what kind of message the fashion industry is trying to send me. I just want to find clothes that look good and fit well! Seriously, I would shop at a store called “The Husky Gal” if they carried low-rise pants that fit correctly.

After my initial reaction, I hunkered down and read the article, and I found that Givhan’s piece made a few good points, but in the end fell flat to me simply because the article answers the questions it poses about the plus-size industry simply by existing.

The article describes two recent ad campaigns – one for Jason Wu’s holiday party collaboration with Eloquii, another for Universal Standard’s loungewear collection. The ad for Wu’s collection is a traditional one for plus size clothing brands. Take a gorgeous woman with a figure on the small end for plus-size, add a beautiful dress, and voila – you’ve got a dress advertisement. Universal Standard’s ad, in contrast, is much different. An un-retouched model, size 24, poses in her underwear and tank top. While the pose is pretty standard for a model trying to sell loungewear, it’s the fact that the model is larger – tummy, legs and all showing – that Givhan’s calls “invasive.”

In comparing the two ads – Givhan asks, “Now, as waiflike models are replaced with Rubenesque ones, can plus-size fashion be freed from the burdens of identity politics and cultural prejudices — to simply exist as clothes and not statements? When will a plus-size model get to stop representing diversity and simply be part of the pack?”

I think the answer to that question – whether plus-size fashion can exist without being a bigger cultural statement, or a plus-size model can be counted as part of the pack and not as a token of diversity – is a resounding NO.

And the reason why the answer is no is because the article exists.

Givhan’s calls Universal Standard’s ad in places “startling”, “unconventional”, and “invasive”. She asks whether or not these ads have the effect of “glorifying” or “fetishizing” plus size. The article wonders whether the model is being shown in the best light, and wonders if the plus sized model is “required to take a stance instead of simply just standing.”

These are fair questions, but there is no evidence in the article that Universal Standard feels that it is taking a huge stance on anything. Notice the backstory of Universal Standard’s two founders: Alexandra Waldman and Polina Veksler believed that straight and plus sized women should be able to shop in the same places. Waldman says she supports the body positive movement, but “unconnected to clothes.” Waldman says, “I don’t think a plus-size woman should have to make an emotional payment every time she goes shopping. We can’t have a conversation about plus-size clothes without having a conversation about how a woman feels about her body. You don’t have that with a size 6.”

So, Universal Standard wants to cater to the plus size demo just like straight sized women are catered to. And to start that, they put an unconventionally sized woman into a very conventional pose to sell loungewear. She stands with her arm back, in a tank top and underwear. Compare that to the Victoria Secret’s loungewear page. In each picture featuring a loungewear top, the model is only wearing underwear for bottoms. Images like these are commonplace for Victoria’s Secret, but when Universal Standard does it, the ad starts a conversation.

When I first saw Universal Standard’s ad, I will admit I was startled. “Wow,” I thought. “They are really going to try to reach everyone.” Then I was puzzled. “What are they trying to sell in this ad? Are they going to start selling underwear and panties – or are they doing the basics, like tanks and camis?? This doesn’t seem to fit with the other stuff they sell.”

So I went to Universal Standard’s to check it out. I found their loungewear collection, and their tanks and tees. I was surprised to see they carried an activewear collection. And sure enough, before I knew it – BAM! I was shopping.

The ad actually worked as intended.

And I think that’s the real point of the ad. I’m not sure if Universal Standard was trying to make a statement on body positivity, or diversity, or fat acceptance. The ad functions as an ad. It’s a huge beacon, because you instantly know that YES, they’re carrying your size.

Having an ad be a beacon to plus-size shoppers is a huge deal.

Last year, I happened to pass Soma, the lingerie store. The store had a sign in the window that said they now carried extended bra cup sizes. I was happy – actually happy and shocked – because I could shop there again. I wondered what other brands might be now carrying an extended size! It had been a long time that I had actually shopped in-store, since I tend to stick to brands I know and like and buy online.

There are many brands I’ve forgotten about or written off because I’m a size 16. I’ve experienced a lot of disappointment watching new brands being launched only to find out out they only go up to size 14, or that you can only get size 16’s online and not in store, or that while some styles are carried in a size 16/18, the item *you* want isn’t sold in plus sizes.

But when I look at Universal Standard’s ad, I *know* they are going to have a size 16 in that tank. I don’t have to go through their website looking for the “plus size” or “extended size” section. And I don’t have to look online to see if an brick and mortar store carries plus size items.

The ad is working effectively as an ad. It’s telling me at once what I really want to know – will this brand have something for me?

So, I don’t care about what “message” the fashion industry is trying to send me. I don’t worry about fat being justified or glorified with this ad.

Can plus size fashion just be about the clothes? The answer, unfortunately, is still no. The reason why is because of articles like this one – worrying about message – instead of articles about how the plus size industry is doing in catering to different sizes and tastes.

The other question the article poses: can plus-size models be regarded as just a normal part of the fashion community? I don’t think we’re there yet, given most the plus-size models we see are a size 10 or 12. Givhan asks whether the model in the Universal Standard ad satisfies the hunger of consumers aching for visibility. This might definitely be true, I can’t help wondering what the market research says. She remarks that, “The models are required to take a stance, instead of simply standing,” implying that the role of plus size model comes with a side of activism. But I’m not sure if La’Shaunae Steward, the model featured in the ad actually feels. She is not quoted, so we don’t know what she thinks. Is she taking a stand or simply taking a paycheck?

All this tends to my main point, in that the conversation around plus-size fashion is still mainly about the cultural and social issues around people of size. And frankly, I’m kind of tired of it. I want to have conversations about, and with, plus-size brands about fit and diversity in styles, rather than diversity of models. I want to be able to find a pair of pants that actually fits.