Starting Over on EXPERT MODE

I can hardly believe that we're about to finish our third year in this small town. Our relocation to Salisbury has proven to be an illuminating experience in a myriad of ways -- especially when it comes to our social life. We have truly started over, and this renovation of our social network has been far from simple.

In our prior life, we had a rich tapestry of close friends. We had a slew of connections from ministry ventures, music projects, and even my own history in my hometown. Perhaps I took it for granted. As a 30 year old in an unfamiliar place, I'm learning how influential these factors were -- music, ministry, and history. The glaring absence of these crucial factors is like resetting a video game and choosing a much harder difficulty level. It's like we started over on EXPERT MODE.

The difficulty of starting anew has made me appreciate our past, and it has also imbued me with a brand new compassion for people who spend their lives socially isolated. I realize I've been privileged to know a life filled with friends and opportunities, and my heart breaks for people who never bask in that same light. We have to face the epidemic of loneliness in our modern world and war against it.

This illumination of experience also reminds me of how important good friends really are. One can audaciously assume that good friends can be found anywhere, but the truth of the matter is much more complicated. Social connection is both vital for your psyche and spirit, and treacherously challenging to cultivate at times. True friendships are crafted through time and shared experience, and they cannot be merely replicated wherever you go.

The larger cultural reality of the matter is this: many adults are facing a crisis of social isolation, and America as a whole is becoming more lonely over time. Often, people in their 30's and 40's become entangled in the trappings of child rearing as they place their own interests on the back burner. Adult friendships atrophy as they pursue family obligations, and this trend continues into their later years. Perhaps it's no coincidence that Americans have consistently reported higher levels of loneliness over the past several decades. Lackluster friendships are a byproduct of our modern way of life, and it's making people miserable... but it doesn't have to be this way.

Despite the multitude of challenges and obstacles that lay in our path, I refuse to accept the norms of the modern social experience. Social connection requires intentional effort and real connection, and a life lacking in these things is truly one that has not realized its full potential. I may be grappling with this new difficulty setting, but I refuse to be defeated by it.

A New Vision for Masculinity.

If you're anything like me, you read lots of good stories and compositions all the time. The same could be said for good TV shows and good songs. Lots of things are satisfactory, but few things really stick with you. Every now and then, though, a writer's work resonates with you. It haunts you; it remains embedded in your psyche.

That's what happened to me back in February after reading an opinion in the New York Times entitled, "The Boys Are Not All Right." This piece was composed in the wake of a mass shooting, and it brings a breath of revelatory fresh air to the entire debate regarding masculinity and acts of violence. We often find ourselves collectively scrounging for clues based on what we know about shooters -- their ethnicity, their motives, their religious backgrounds. We often gloss over the most prevailing common thread of all, though -- their manhood.

More often than not, men are the aggressors. Men are the shooters; men are the abusers. Men are astronomically more likely to inflict violence on the people they know. We have to wrestle with this undeniable truth that stares us in the face. When we're talking about rape, or school shootings, or gang violence, or violent robberies... we're talking about men.

I recognize the biological component in this, of course. The presence of testosterone can be an aggravating factor in the psychology of men in general. However, we are not merely at the whim of our biochemicals. We are more than that. So... what the hell is happening to men in our nation?

The aforementioned article argues that our nation's boys are not okay. They're broken and shipwrecked with no real direction and no real measure by which to understand themselves. We don't even know what it means to be manly.  By contrast, women have stepped up and made tremendous strides to better themselves and liberate themselves culturally. Women are continually telling one another, "do what you want. Be what you want. Pursue the best you."

Men have stumbled in this regard. We have been sold a cheap imitation of masculinity that is more defined by what you can't do. A man shouldn't _______ because that makes him girly, or heaven forbid, gay. That monumental fill-in-the-blank has come to swallow masculinity whole. It's suffocating our boys everyday. Boys are defined by what they can't do, whereas women are making progress by broadening their definition of what they can do. I see it in the lives of my daughters constantly.

In light of this, I would like to propose a new vision for modern masculinity that liberates men to become all of what they can be. I want to see a return to the idea of The Renaissance Man -- a man who has a breadth of knowledge and experience and excels in everything he does. Leonardo Da Vinci was the icon of this lifestyle. A true renaissance man feels equally comfortable writing a poem as he does throwing a basketball. A true renaissance man feels at home in the kitchen and in the weight room. A true renaissance man pursues the arts and the sciences with diligence and curiosity.

And that one word -- curiosity -- is the key to this equation. More than anything else, the renaissance man is defined by a fervent hunger for all of what life has to offer. He is intellectually curious and that burning curiosity guides him in his pursuits. Maybe he's not knowledgeable of everything... but he wants to be. He wants to do it all. He wants to open all the doors and follow every path he sees.

This stands in stark contrast to the modern macho man, which wants to know nothing and discover nothing. Modern masculinity is defined by what you can't do -- cook, clean, write, sing, dance, self-care. Modern masculinity is a never-ending cascade of slamming doors. Renaissance masculinity is marked by all that you can do. It's defining characteristic is possibility.

When I look upon the horizon at men I respect, I identify renaissance men. They pursue multiple fields of interest and they hunger for excellence in the things they do. In that light, I want to be that kind of man as well. I want to understand athletic matters as well as artistic matters. I want to be able to converse about history, literature, world events, and pop culture. I want to discover the world in all its forms, and I sincerely hunger to understand.

It's no surprise that our highest office in the nation is currently held by Trump, a man who embodies the superficial hollowness that is modern masculinity. He stands in defiance to the entire notion of renaissance manhood -- he has the world's secrets at his fingertips, and yet he hungers for no knowledge. He delights in ignorance. It's pathetic. But I suppose that's another topic for another post.

I believe the boys of our nation have hope, if we can aggressively seek to open their eyes to a new way of life. Furthermore, it must not fall on the shoulders of women to do this. They have worked tirelessly to liberate themselves -- they can't do the mental and emotional labor of men too. It's time for fathers and men in the community to shake off the chains of modern masculinity and trade in those shackles for the key that will unlock all of what the world has for our next generation. It's time to let go of what used to define masculinity in our nation's past.

How I Became Pro-Choice.

Abortion is a contentious topic, and with the nomination of a new Supreme Court Justice, this issue promises to be more pivotal than ever in the public discourse. For many voters, this is the only issue that really matters. Two candidates can run for President, a villain and a hero, but if that villain is superficially pro-life, he gets the vote. Every time. (Oh, and SPOILER ALERT -- that will possibly be the scenario in 2020. Mark my words.)

In that respect, abortion can be a golden ticket that allows many people to bypass any need for civic engagement. Why be involved or knowledgeable about the issues when you can just pick the pro-life candidate? I know this because I used to be one of those people. I used to hold pro-life ideals in such high esteem that, practically speaking, nothing else mattered by comparison. I gave my money, my time, my prayers, and my political allegiances to the person who championed the pro-life movement.

So what changed? A lot of things, which I'll outline below.  Before I do, I feel compelled to state this: I believe abortion rights are a women's issue, and that our society does not need another white male voice joining the cacophony on this topic. However, I also recognize that the pro-life movement and the evangelical right are dominated by white male voices, and this is my effort and endeavor to speak truth into those minds. Beyond that, I'll gladly take a seat to my feminine superiors on this subject.

The Role of Faith

My journey into the pro-choice camp was marked by a few key realizations. Although it's no secret that I have complicated feelings about religion in general now, I began this transition before my departure from the church. After a great deal of studying, I realized that the actual scriptural support for the pro-life movement is flimsy at best, or nonexistent at worst.

Simply put, there is no biblical prohibition on abortion. None. Instead, there are a variety of vaguely sentimental verses like Psalm 139:13-16 that are instead spun into anti-abortion arguments. Jeremiah 1:5 is another classic example of this -- a poetic phrase about god's knowledge has become molded into a theology all its own through a great deal of extrapolation and interpretation. In reality, Jeremiah 1:5 could just as easily be manipulated into an argument against contraception. And truth be told, the entire anti-abortion argument can be boiled down into those two words -- extrapolation and interpretation. Church leaders have cherry-picked a few romantic sentences from the scripture and stitched them together into a theology that just doesn't exist without the church propping it up.

Once I realized this, I saw the naked truth of the matter: the pro-life movement is not a matter of pure theology, but instead, it's a matter of orthodoxy and social dynamics. Church attendees are pro-life because pastors are pro-life. Pastors are pro-life because the leaders above them are pro-life. There is a kind of social trend, an unspoken agreement, that Christians must be pro-life. We call that orthodoxy, and it is hollow of any substantive theological power. It's no different than the many churches that have forbidden drumsets from the stage, or prohibited women from wearing pants in the sanctuary. The pro-life movement is not underpinned by the bible -- it's largely just an agreement among the white men in power. Many people are pro-life for social reasons, not spiritual reasons.

After walking away from the hulking machinery that is religious thought, I began to search for my own truth. Deductively speaking, abortion is either murder, or it's not. If it's murder, it must be outlawed. If it's not murder, then any intrusion into abortion rights are a major breach of a woman's bodily autonomy. Abortion is either an egregious destruction of life, or one of mankind's greatest technological achievements. It either kills a person, or allows women the capacity to totally control their own reproductive choices.

I believe that the foremost question that must be answered regarding abortion is this: where does life begin? More specifically, where does a distinct and separate life begin? After all, a mole on your nose or a tumor may be living cells, but they are not distinct. They are... you. So when does a fetus become a person in its own right? We can search for these answers, but only after recognizing that the bible will not and cannot provide them. And that's okay.

In my own journey, I became acquainted with a very lively debate about where life ends. For a long time, death was defined as the cessation of a heartbeat. However, medical advances have allowed us to keep humans alive with no functioning heart at all. But is that life? Emerging voices have called for death to be defined as a cessation of brain activity. Your heart is just a muscular pump, but your brain is you. When you are brain dead, you are just dead.

Without a doubt, the exploration of life's beginnings and endings can be murky and complex. The most important part of this is acknowledging that these definitions are not gifted to us from a god or a divine being. There's a lot more to be said on the science regarding defining life, but the point remains clear. Many people in the pro-life movement have mistakenly assumed that their beliefs are backed by scripture, so they've sought no other opinion. They've ended their search for answers. In light of the reality of the bible, that seems rather lazy.

I am still on my own journey to figure out where life begins, what life is, and what happens at its conclusion. In the mean time, I will advocate for women to have access to resources that grant them greater control over their bodies. I will also value their voices and remain vigilant for movements that aim to harm women whether intentionally or by happenstance. Lastly, I would like to share one more insight regarding my change of heart.

As the saying goes, you are what you eat. However, I think that applies to the information you consume as well as the food you devour. One of the habits that has most molded my perspective has been changing where I get my information from. I began to follow news blogs written by female voices and other websites owned by minorities. I sought diversity in my media diet just like anyone should in their nutritional diet. I turned away from the raucous echo chamber that reassured me that all my opinions were already airtight, and that truly changed everything.

I don't have all the answers, and I probably never will. However, I have opened myself up to a slew of new truths and possibilities. I have liberated myself from the arrogant presumptions of my former life, and I want to encourage everyone to do the same. I'd like to hear your thoughts on this topic! Comment, email, message... Let me know where you stand and most importantly, why you believe your truths to be real.

The Spirit of Liberty

Exactly one year ago today, we buried my mother. Her tragic passing has been on my mind a lot this week. In the wake of that sudden loss, I've searched for answers, pondered the past, and questioned what we could have done to prevent it. However, all of that ruminating has faded from view as I have sought to honor her memory over the past few days.

I feel disappointed that, in general, our society does not have more poignant ways of preserving the memories and legacies of our loved ones. Quite frankly, we do a terrible job of remembering those who came before us. Their entire life's trajectory just evaporates over time. I want to do better than that. I want to find ways of preserving and memorializing my mother and anyone else I lose over the course of my life. I want to teach my children stories of the people who came before them.

In other cultures, it is quite common to honor the spirit of your ancestors. In some societies, it is totally normal to pray, reflect, or meditate upon the spirit of your ancestors, seeking them for guidance. As skeptical and critical as I can often be regarding all things religious, I can say with honesty that.... I get it. I understand that reflex, to seek your ancestors even when they're long gone.

Where is my mother now? Does her spirit remain with me, or is she just alive in the recesses of my heart & mind? I don't know. Does it matter?  Whether she abides as a spirit, or she just abides in my memory.... she's there. She means something to me. Some people would say she was "larger than life". Instead, I'd say she was always more mythological than motherly -- she was always more fiction than fact.  She was a character, an embodiment of something greater. And I want to honor that; I want to find a way to cherish her with my actions.

So, in an effort to preserve my mother's memory, my little family made a trip to the beach on the day of her passing. When I was a child, my mom would often take me to the beach to gather shells. In honor of that, Eisley and Maebry gathered shells to place around her gravestone, and we spent the day having fun and visiting relatives in the area. In this way, I believe we created a ritual that would honor her in a way that fits her. This is what she would have wanted.

Throughout this week, I've also paused to reflect on what she meant to me.
She taught me to seek beauty.
She taught me to be expressive.
She taught me to be unashamed of who I am.
She taught me to be free. Really, truly free.

My mother is the spirit of liberty in my life. Her body rests in the soil of Onslow County, but her spirit resides upon the waves. Her spirit walks the shoreline, and her spirit walks with me too. I want to celebrate her, and the liberty she imparted upon me. I want to teach my children who she really was, and I want to show them how to cherish the loved ones that leave this world.

Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find real and qualified mental health services for yourself or a loved one. 

I am not your ally.

A curious thing has happened to Hannah and I over the past several years. On a variety of occasions, people will interact with us in a seemingly normal, sociable way. We exchange small talk and formalities, and then, in the midst of a superficially banal dialogue, a shift occurs.

And out comes the racism. Out comes the sexism. Why does this keep happening?

When we first moved to Salisbury, Hannah visited a local veterinarian, and the vet interacted with Hannah for less than ten minutes before confiding some very awkward, highly racial opinions to her. Somehow, we keep finding ourselves in this situation, with acquaintances and strangers alike. Racists and sexists find themselves emboldened in this age, ready to spout off their nonsense anywhere.

So let me make this clear.
I am not your ally.

We are not allies of the racist, the sexist, the bigots, the homophobes. We are not your confessional booth, and we will not be complicit in your inane war against decency. Do not mistake my skin color or my gender for permission to disseminate your poison. It will not be accepted or permitted in my world.

We are the allies of the downtrodden, the oppressed, the marginalized, the hurt. We vote that way, too. We consider these people groups when we give donations, when we volunteer, and when we cast our ballots for local and national leaders.

I would encourage every reader to search their soul and ask themselves where their allegiances lie. Who have you aligned with, and who have you placated? What concepts have you let reign freely in your life and in your social interactions? The time for change is now, and the time for tepid disagreement is over.

To the racist,
the sexist,
the oppressor,
the aggressor.....
I am not your ally.

A World Without Closets

June is LGBT Pride Month, and this very fact tends to conjure up some interesting reactions in people.  Recently, a major leader within the popular fitness company Crossfit was embroiled in a firestorm after stating that LGBT pride was a grievance against god. It wasn't long ago that I was firmly planted in a world that felt that way, and yet, it all seems so foreign now.

Perhaps the most perplexing piece of this mentality is the rejection of pride itself. Now,  I realize that many faiths condemn homosexuality as a sin, but the reactions against what we celebrate in June don't make sense, and here's why:

Pride is a natural outcome of honesty.

As I've written before, we live in a world rife with closets. People remain closeted about their sexual orientations, their gender preferences, their beliefs, and so much more. The celebration of LGBT pride is a natural by-product of the fact that many people are leaving their closets behind, and they are profoundly glad to see the light of day. Regardless of where you stand on the topic itself, you should be thankful for that... because at least we are having honest interactions.

Imagine a world where everyone became shockingly, unapologetically themselves to their friends, family, and coworkers. Imagine a world where the curtains drop to reveal the things we conceal for the sake of our reputations. It would be a shocking atmosphere, for sure, but more than anything, it would be real. It would be honest.

Now, closets exist for a reason. Tragically, many people have to conceal themselves for fear of rejection, or discrimination, or even violence. This is the true abomination. Instead of railing against the rainbow-colored bumper stickers you see, consider the cultural phenomenon that makes pride even matter.

People have pride because we live in a society where just being you can require a tremendous sacrifice and risk. That's the grievance against whatever god may exist. That's the travesty.

So, wherever you stand on the topic of homosexuality (or any other nontraditional lifestyle), you must realize that the dismantling of each and every closet is a good thing. Because when the last closet door opens, we will live in a world where we can be candid without fear of mistreatment or harm.

It's time for us to work towards a world without closets.

A Promise Ring Rebuttal

So let's talk about promise rings.

In case you are not familiar with the phenomenon, promise rings rose to popularity during my upbringing. It became customary for many Christian fathers to give these rings to their daughters as a symbol of chastity and the virtue of celibacy. Sometimes, fathers and daughters would even have ceremonies wherein vows were exchanged, cementing the child's dedication to the noble cause of abstinence. Despite this glorious occasion, many teenage girls stumbled just the same.

Honestly, writing all of that out feels profoundly creepy. It's also worth noting that promise rings only existed among gendered lines -- fathers gave them to daughters, but you did not see mothers nor sons involved in similar exchanges. This smacks of sexism and it's pretty damning to our patriarchal experience writ large, but alas, we'll save that tangent for another post.

In essence, promise rings tethered fathers to the sex lives (or lack thereof) of their daughters. The intent seems innocent or even honorable at face value -- Christian fathers want the best for their children, and purity (whatever that means) is best. Although it seems like a kind gesture, the reality of the promise ring often proved to be very different. In my observation, it proved deeply harmful.

Promise rings, and the typical Christian family's obsession with abstinence, seems like protective parenting, but it may have done more harm than good. In my experience, I have heard countless stories where daughters succumbed to temptation and saw their relationship with their parents wounded in the process. After all, their father had a vested interest in the child's virginity, and losing it was an act of betrayal.

That's not where the injury ends, though. Even women who waited until marriage felt utterly sullied by the totally harmless and seemingly holy act of marital sex. They spent years wearing a ring that reminded them that sex must be avoided at all costs, and when the day came that they were liberated from the ring itself, it still left an imprint on their psyche.

The promise ring is a symbol of ownership over something that cannot be owned. As I recalibrate my own values and beliefs, I question how I can raise my daughters in a different vein than the things I have both witnessed and observed in the past. What does it mean to be a successful secular parent?  I'm still figuring that out, but needless to say, I won't be handing out rings to my children or demanding chastity pledges from them. The mere thought of doing so seems idiotic at best, and profoundly harmful at worst.

As Trevor Noah wrote in his book Born a Crime, "you do not own the thing you love." Parents must never mistake possessive behavior with love. I do not want to demand pledges and oaths of my children -- instead, I want to make pledges to them. It is incumbent upon me as the parent to be the one who forges a path of unconditional acceptance and support in their lives.

One day, when they'd old enough to fathom this conversation, I will give them this vow.

I promise not to own you.
I promise not to hinge my love on how you use your body.
I promise not to stake a claim on your personhood or your sense of autonomy.
I promise not to pit your love for me against your desires or choices.

I'm sure there will be times when this is difficult, but I'm choosing to let go of my old paradigms regarding parenting. I'm letting go of my old, broken definitions of love when it comes to being a father, and I'm searching for a new and beautiful definition in the process.

Thank you for reading On Letting Go, a blog about dealing with the wounds of the past. If you're looking for a little background on what inspired this blog, check out the introduction.  Click here for information on how you can find real and qualified mental health services for yourself or a loved one.