Still I Rise

When I started at my college in 2017, I had no idea that my feminist principles would come at such a cost. I had no idea that when I began to “Defend the weak and the fatherless and uphold the cause of the oppressed” I would lose the respect of many whom I loved and treasured. I had no idea that my now husband would be “warned” about me by someone whom I thought was a friend. “Be careful,” this person said, “because just so you know, she is super passionate about women pastors.” I had no idea that when I took a stand for women’s equality, my husband’s closest friend would refuse to come to our wedding, and beg him not to marry me. I had no idea that my passions would be called a sinful by professors and classmates. I had no idea I would receive hateful messages that would keep me up at night, crying, because I just wanted to love. I had no idea that I would be left behind by those with whom I thought I was close.  

How don’t they know my heart? Why can’t they trust it? 

I look back and grieve the times I spent in college being told I wasn’t good enough, and that my desire to go into leadership, as a woman, was sinful. I look back and grieve the times I was literally weeping in front of my entire class because I had teachers railing into those beliefs. The true mental abuse I faced by people who were supposed to come alongside of me has left me feeling broken and alone. 

And now, as I have learned and grown, I’ve lost even more. One by one, I saw friends fall away. I heard the things they were saying behind my back - people I thought loved me. They don’t know that those things keep me awake at night, even several years later. 

And yet the more I was hated, the stronger I grew in my passion. Because the hate I faced is nothing compared to the struggles of the truly oppressed. 

So, I’ll still stand. 

I’ll get up in the morning and fight for the cause and the rights of my LGBTQ+ friends. I’ll be their ally. I’ll be their family.

I’ll get up in the morning and make mindful choices, so that every thought I have and every action I take is anti-racist. 

I’ll make my bold statements that push against white evangelical principles. I’ll boldly say, “Jesus was a socialist,” and “Jesus would have been marching during Pride, not standing on the sides and hurling insults.”

I’ll make sure that I share the wealth that I have - whether that’s monetarily, emotional support, and/or just plain old love. 

I’ll give back. I’ll pay it forward. I’ll take my privilege and put it to good use. 

I’ll go out of my way to be as PC as I can, because you know what’s biblical? Doing everything we possibly can to make sure people feel loved, and not hurt by ignorant words. 

I’ll push back against the comments like, “people on unemployment are lazy,” “people who struggle with addiction made their choice,” and “minimum wage is meant for high schoolers, so if you want a better job, just go to school and work harder.” I will call people on their privilege. 

You can tell me I’m not meant to be a “strong” woman. You can tell me that complete submission to my husband is my “biblical duty.” You can tell me that my desire to be equal, to be in leadership, is “usurping the man’s position.” You can push on me your purity culture, your sexism, and your poorly disguised misogyny - but still I rise. 

To my BIPOC, my AAPI, my trans brothers and sisters: I’m fighting for you. 

To my fellow feminist Christian women who are trying to go into leadership in this patriarchal society: I’m fighting for us. 

To my LGBTQIA+ family and friends: I see you. I’m fighting for you. 

To the disabled community, my friends living with visible and invisible disabilities: I see your fight. I’m standing for you. 

To all the marginalized, all the oppressed, all of my brothers and sisters living under the boot of privilege and societal hate and injustice, I fight alongside of you. And I won’t stop.