Yeah, I’m still around. And I’m still not a Christian.
Well, DUH!” You say. “We know that.”
But do you know the main reason I am not a Christian, why I turned to a pagan religion, instead? Don’t get me wrong, I have the utmost respect for some Christians, the sane ones. Their book? Ummm. . .not so much.
The first and foremost reason was, as a Christian, I was nothing simply because I was born a setter instead of a pointer. A thing, placed here for the convenience of males, who were the “real” people.
I remember wishing I was a boy when I was very small. Boys got to do stuff. I remember the toys my daddy sent me for my birthday, but not Christmas, because Christmas was a sinful pagan holiday. The dolls with their heads torn off and holes punched in their butts. My little brother could do this because he was a boy and boys could treat girls however they pleased.
I remember coming home from school and seeing a brand new bike leaning upon it’s kickstand on the porch. Wow! Someone was getting a new bike. Not me, of course. I knew that without being told. Imagine how I felt, though, when I ran to get my bike, also given to me by my absent father, and it was nowhere to be found. Grandfather had sold my bike, my sister’s bike, too, and used the money to buy the new bike for the “baby”.
Why had he done this heinous deed? Wanna know his reason? It seems when girls ride bikes, it spreads them out “down there,” and loosens them up so when they have sex with their future husbands, Hubby won’t enjoy it so much. I hated my future husband.
The Earth is Man’s domain. Patriarchy is IN, ba-Bee! And has been for a very looonnngggg time.
When I say Man, I mean males, of course. Women don’t count. Women, they claim, were put here as incubators and to “help” i.e. serve and service the real human beings, men. If you don’t believe Fundys still believe this crap, even in this day and age, I refer you to my Grandfather.
From the year 1695
From the year 1962
He wholeheartedly believed that women had nothing to do with the creation of babies other than as an incubator for the new life. In the male sperm, he said, there were tiny fully formed little people. Everything was already there from hair to toenail. Injected into the mother via the man’s penis, all they did there was grow for nine months. Therefore the woman had no rights to the child. It was exclusively the man’s property. Even my ten year old self could see through that!
“But Grampaw, how do you explain the fact that I’ve got your little short legs?” According to his theory, I was no relation to him at all. I was solely my father’s child. Other than an evil glare, he ignored my question. In the interests of self-preservation, I shut up.
Okay, so that was way back in 1963. I would be willing to wager that there are still a few of these idiots around and about.
Grandfather’s reason for not voting: those unrighteous heathens running for office.
Grandmother’s reason for not voting: It’s not a woman’s place to make decisions like that. That’s the man’s job.
Last names? Women don’t have them. They take their father’s last name, then their husbands. Slaves didn’t have them either. They took their master’s last name, just like we women do.
“But the fundamentalist SBC pastors say, “Ahhh, but you know, a woman’s role is really in the home, and women should not work outside the home. The Bible says that the husband is to be the provider and the wife is to raise the kids and do the laundry.” How long will it be before they discover that you do not really need an education to do that?” (my italics)~ Women Equal-No Buts: Powered by the same Source
– Shirley Taylor
Uh, they already know that. They figgered it out a while back.
Yup. That’s right. Girls don’t need education. They’ll get married and Hubby will take care of them. edumacation is a waste of time and money. God don’t want no setters workin’ outside the home. They might get uppity idears, like wanting equal rights or sumthin’.
I was property. I belonged to Grampaw as if I were one of his cows, or a tractor. I wasn’t worth as much as those items of course. As a property I was relatively worthless. I was useful for only two things, as an unpaid worker and a punching bag. Oh, I forgot, there was a third thing I was good for. I was an excellent little sex toy.
Do I sound bitter? My grandfather was empowered to do these things, supposedly by his “Good Book” and his God. I was a little girl, utterly without protection, with no one to save me but myself. Yes I’m bitter. You betcha!
You think my grandfather was an exception, do you? Most Christians aren’t like that? Maybe not, but there are enough like him to destroy many, many young lives as mine was destroyed, in the name of God. I don’t hate Christianity and Christians across the board. There are lots of good folk out there who call themselves Christians. It’s the Fundys I despise, who reduce me to a thing for the simple reason I have a vagina and not a penis. Is it any wonder I fled screaming from Christianity as soon as I was old enough?