Religion Is Sexist?

I met her when I was 12, we fell in love almost immediately. We had a deep connection and shared a mutual knowledge of this connection without really speaking about it. It was a mother-daughter love, a love so deep, my life was turned around, I became a better person. I really wanted to make her happy, so I became more obedient and less rebellious, started to do my house chores at the right time, I got closer to God. Call it the power of love. Even my mother used it to “blackmail” me.

At 13, I was very sure I was going into the religious life. I wanted to be just like her, and maybe someday, meet a young girl and transform her for better. I wanted to be like her, with hopes that I’ll be able to pour out all my love to children and teenagers, since I won’t have mine to channel them to. I had hopes that I’d smile at children, and they’d see God smiling at them. I made a strong resolve, to be a reverend sister, or nothing. I considered being a Dr. Rev. Sr too. I thought I could study medicine and use my knowledge and experience to help people as a reverend sister.

Guess who was having none of that— my dear mother! I was one very strong willed girl. We argued, we fought, we talked, yet, I was hell bent on going to a convent after secondary school. After several intense arguments, I said, If God willed, I’ll be professed, and if not, I’ll be sent back home, while she insisted God was never going to will it.

According to my non-Catholic mum, sisters take an oath of poverty and everlasting suffering. She went further to say she’d have left me to be a priest if I was male cos she’d be rest assured that I’d have parishioners to take care of me, and to be the family I wouldn’t have. Please, take note that this was just a myopic view, based on the impressions she saw. She saw sisters as sufferheads, and she wasn’t going to suffer for me, sweat blood and water, only for me to end up a “suffer head,” have a romance with poverty and still not give her grand children on top that.

Prior to her statement, and meeting Sister Immaculata, I always fancied being a priest, dressed in my perfectly pressed robe, on the altar, offering gifts to the Lord; chanting and singing prayers; breaking bread and repeating the words said at the last supper; spreading out my arms gingerly as I invoke blessings on my congregation; sprinkling the Holy water, with a proud tilt of my head as I look at my congregation and a warm smile on my purified face; walking, like Jesus walked on the troubled sea like it was nothing, during recession, and placing my hands on little and blameless children who’d see me as Jesus or an angel in flesh and blood, as they hug me. So, when my mother made the statement about priests having more privileges like being able to own a car, and having parishioners to cater for them, I became angry and thought life was unfair to women. But I didn’t really mind at that point, I just wanted to live and share in the life of sister Immaculata.

Now 14, with sister Immaculata taken far away from me, to a foreign country, I was left with only memories of her, which are some of my most cherished memories, by the way. I still wanted to go into the religious life. At this age, I was fortunate to have known some smart philosophers with whom I had enlightening conversations and arguments.

One of such, was about I how thought religion was sexist. I gave several reasons and instances. Mind you, by religion, I wasn’t referring to just Christianity or the church, though I later narrowed down my argument to the Catholic church. If you’re thinking one of my arguments was of women not being allowed to be priests, you’re right! That was my major argument.

While still into the argument, my adult friend asked if I was a feminist cos I behaved like one, from his observations of our past and current conversations. I didn’t give a definite answer, my response was “I guess I am,” cos I wasn’t sure of who a feminist was but I just knew it had something to do with females and supporting females and for reasons I don’t know, I didn’t ask for the meaning. That was unsual, not asking a question when I do not know. I guess I was more interested in continuing our argument, than finding out the meaning of feminist, since I was pretty sure my assumption wasn’t far from the actual meaning.

The first thing I did after that conversation/argument, was pick up my dictionary. I looked up the word “feminist” and smiled with satisfaction at the definition and said to myself, I am a feminist, I believe women and men should be given equal opportunities to be whatever they want, cos no gender is greater or lesser then the other, no gender is inferior or superior to the other. It was from that day I wore my feminist badge in my heart, little did I know that it was an actual movement and a very big deal, and that years later, people would redefine it to suit their agenda and make me ask myself if I still want to wear the badge. I guess it’s a till death do us part thing.

If you started out, reading this piece, hoping to find a totally different content, sorry to disappoint you. I didn’t write to give one thousand and five reasons why I think religion is sexist or not, I wrote to share my story and to know your thoughts on religion and sexism.

Don’t hesitate to give your two cents in the comment section, please.