Thanks Queen B. Thank you for 1) making "Flawless" my go to morning jam and 2) exposing me to the unmistakeably profound TED lecture by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.
I'm sure you're wondering how the heck Adichie relates to "the event" from 5 months ago and what slut shaming even means. I have directed the gospel choir at my university for three years. I have a deep desire to see people realize joy in Christ no matter their situation or their state of emotions. Gospel music has a robust theology of sorrow and hope and God's future promises. Throughout my university career, leading gospel music worship has LITERALLY been my favorite thing I do. Therefore, this fall after we led worship in an all-student, all-faculty event, I was prepared to hear the usual amount of elated feedback. I looked forward to hearing about encounters with our mighty God via the avenue of gospel music.
So when one of my friends approached me because a professor took the time out of BOTH his 8am and 11am lectures to have a hearty discussion about gospel choir, my ears perked up. This man did indeed talk long and seriously about the events of that morning... About the slut who led the choir.
How too tight the director's jeans were.
How inappropriate it was for her to lead worship in skinny jeans.
How attention seeking it was for her and choir members to dance during a worship service.
How she was responsible for lustful thoughts in the audience.
How he didn't even know her name, but this was direly important and appropriate to discuss.
He didn't use the word "slut" explicitly--he didn't need to. After all, slut shaming is an implicit intention disguised in cultural concern or moral integrity. Caught up in his self-righteousness, I obviously doubt he considered the amount of students in those classes who knew me...including my roommate, dear friends, coworkers, other student group leaders, and members of my very choir. Groups of people approached him and called out his gross misconduct, and a sincere apology was sent out to his classes several days later. Although, said lament was never spoken in person to me. Nor a note. Nor an email. Nor a blurb.
I processed through the whole affair on my own with the support of family, friends, my choir, my loving God who is faithful to speak in your doubtful dark moments when the lies creep in. But by many I was advised to be silent. To not bring the affair to the dean of students. To not confront this professor. We are taught that this silence should be our response as women, are we not? Shut it out. Stay subdued. Suffer in secret. Bear the shame they smudge upon you without being able to turn said shame in its head. When a woman is sexually molested, she is hidden away and told to bear that cross in shameful secrecy. When a woman is exploited, she is told to keep her chin up and deal with it in counseling--not protest in the public sphere. When a woman is raped, she is asked what she was wearing and what she was doing under the assumption that she caused such an event and that now she must live in quieter existence to avoid further instances.
It's a special kind of suffocation when you cannot speak out against your abusers.
Now, this man did no physical harm to me. His exploitation was of a very different variety. Slut shaming. The act in which someone has you become the responsible party of another person's weakness. The act in which your attitude, your dress, your words, your personality are put under scrutiny regardless of your intentions. The act in which someone else's standard is demanded to be that of your own. The act in which your identity in Christ stripped and your identity in man's eyes is elevated. In my case, the act in which wearing skinny jeans--a standard Western dress that is both unavoidable and perfectly acceptable and absolutely normal--labels me as an attention seeking slut conspiring to trap men while I have my five minutes of fame on stage. Furthermore, this act becomes true slut "shaming" when someone takes it on as their personal crusade to PUBLICLY slander you (i.e. two classes totaling near 100 people). Their moral reaction to your dress or behavior is so visceral that they take it on as a God given mandate to warn others against you and your slutty ways.
This is an exploitation in which a woman is belittled down to her body and her clothing--clothing which is not even immodest but is simply not to a certain man's preference. Her intentions, her intellect, her will, her motives, her beliefs, her desires are all sacrificed on the altar of an outward biased cultural opinion. Slut shaming is sad even more so because it belittles men down to being ravenous minds who cannot control themselves. And who shouldn't be expected to.
So I have one thing to say to this professor: My body is NEVER again to be the subject of your classroom discussion.
Feel free to tear down my theological views--I am a liturgical, Anglican, arminian, covenant, egalitarian, amillenial, progressive creationist Christian.
Feel free to tear down my political views--I am a conservative Democrat, pro equal marriage rights, social justice enthusiast.
Feel free to tear down my professional pursuits--I am going to be a folk singer for a while before completing seminary to be ordained as a Reverend and then further pursuing a doctorate in English literature.
But you are NEVER again to speak of my ass or what covers it in your classroom.
You are NEVER again to say that my God who chose me from eternity past does not cause such joy to spring from my fingertips that would inspire me to dance as David did while singing His praise.
You are NEVER again to say that I wake up and dress not with the freedom as a daughter of the Most High but instead with the desire of causing others to lust after me.
You are NEVER again to say that I lead the people of God before the throne of God in musical worship with nonchalant self-seeking motives.
And you are NEVER to slut shame any young woman on this campus again. Or we will not be silent. You will not be able to hide behind the frail throne of your podium and the cowardice of your email and the self-righteousness of your degree.
In closing, here are Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's words that gave me a voice:
Recently a young woman was gang raped in a university in Nigeria. And the response of many young Nigerians, both male and female, was something along the lines of this: “Yes, rape is wrong. But what is a girl doing in a room with four boys?” Now, if we can forget the horrible inhumanity of that response, these Nigerians have been raised to think of women as inherently guilty. And they’ve been raised to expect so little of men that the idea of men as savage beings without any control is somehow acceptable. We teach girls shame. “Close your legs. Cover yourself.” We make them feel as though being born female they’re already guilty of something. And so, girls grow up to be women who cannot say they have desire. They grow up to be women who silence themselves. They grow up to be women who cannot say what they truly think. And they grow up — and this is the worst thing we do to girls — they grow up to be women who have turned pretense into an art form.
