purple
Update 09-07-2011: this excellent article shines light on the conundrum of trying to define laws/moralities with regards to sex.
The bible and the church take a pretty harsh stance on homosexuality. According to the bible, god created man and then created woman to be with man. That is the way relationships are meant to be structured:
A man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh. (Genesis 2:24 NIV)
If you don’t do it this way, if you sleep with your own gender god will not look kindly on you. In Leviticus (written c 550-400 years before Christ) god states that
If a man lies with a man as one lies with a woman, both of them have done what is detestable. They must be put to death; their blood will be on their own heads.” (Liv 20:13 18:22).
This god of the old testament displays strong opposition to homosexual acts. During Jesus’ time on earth very little was said about homosexuals but afterwards, in Paul’s letter to the Romans:
(1:18) From heaven God shows how angry he is with all the wicked and evil things that sinful people do to crush the truth… (26) God let them follow their own evil desires. Women no longer wanted to have sex in a natural way, and they did things with each other that were not natural. (27) Men behaved in the same way. They stopped wanting to have sex with women and had strong desires for sex with other men. They did shameful things with each other and what has happened to them is punishment for their foolish deeds… (2:6) God will reward each of us for what we have done. (7) He will give eternal life to everyone who has patiently done what is good, in the hope of receiving glory, honour, and life that lasts for ever. (8) But he will show how angry and furious he can be with every selfish person who rejects the truth and wants to do evil. (9) All who are wicked will be punished with trouble and suffering. (Romans 1:18-2:9)
Later, in Pauls first letter to the Corinthians he says:
(9) Don’t you know that evil people won’t have a share in the blessings of God’s kingdom? Don’t fool yourselves! No one who is immoral or worships idols, or is unfaithful in marriage or is a pervert, or behaves like a homosexual (10) will share in God’s kingdom. Neither will any thief or greedy person, or drunkard or anyone who curses and cheats others. (11) Some of you used to be like that. But now the name of our Lord Jesus Christ and the power of God’s Spirit have washed you and made you holy and acceptable to God. (1 Corinthians 6:9-11)
This is confirmed by Paul’s friend, Timothy who wrote:
(10) The Law was written for people who are sexual perverts or who live as homosexuals or are kidnappers or liars and won’t tell the truth in court. It is for anything else that opposes the correct teaching (11) of the good news that the glorious and wonderful God has given me. (1 Timothy 1:10,11)
It should be noted that although these words were written by Paul and Timothy, Christians believe that they are part of the holy scriptures, written as the inspired word of god. These aren’t the thoughts of man, this is god’s word.
So the god of the new testament also discriminates against homosexuals. Now, while there’s mounting evidence that some people are born gay, I think that it can be demonstrated that the bible is unclear in what it preaches at an even simpler level. I’m convinced it doesn’t add up.
As we read in Genesis, apparently god created male and female like ying and yang so that when the time is right the man will marry the woman and they will become like one person. This is the way is is supposed to work according to the Christians I know. However, this heteronormal model is over simplified, and I believe it was probably based on the less-than-divine knowledge of people who lived thousands of years ago.
First the writer needs to define what is a man and what is a woman. Most people will classify a persons gender based on their organs; boys have penises, girls have vaginas. So what about intersexuals (also known incorrectly as hermaphrodites)? They may be born with both a penis and a vagina and historically the doctors and/or parents select a gender. What’s god’s plan for them? This is just the tip of the iceberg. As noted in the Wikipedia , sex chromosomes do not just come in two flavours;
“There are quite a few other possible combinations such as XO, XXY, XO/XY, XYY, XX male, XY female, and there are many individuals who do not follow the typical patterns.”
To add to this list, there are other combinations such as XXX, XXXX and XXXXX or people born with a combination of XX and XY throughout their body.
So, it is possible for nature to spew forth a smorgasbord of genetic abnormalities and chromosomal combinations that break down the traditional dichotomous classification system. It is also possible for a person to be born a male trapped inside a woman’s body: i.e. 5-alpha-reductase deficiency:
Individuals with 5-ARD have XY chromosomes and testes, and tend to have a vagina and labia, but with a small penis capable of ejaculation instead of a clitoris (this penis, however, appears to be a clitoris at birth). These individuals are normally raised as girls. However, come puberty, their testes will descend, their voice will deepen and they often will develop a male sexual identity. But they develop only limited facial hair.
The problem is that intersexuals are born naturally with an ambiguous gender. They may be a small percentage of the population but they still exist. God’s law needs to be applicable to all humans but it doesn’t work for intersexuals and many others.
The bible seems to assume that if, for example, someone is born with male organs, then they are going to be equipped with male hormone and a male brain which drives their emotions and impulses a certain (natural) way. I rank this stark heteronormativity on par with the theory that the earth is at centre of the universe.
It looks like I’m not alone, some other people have looked at the evidence rather than just making stuff up:
Critics of heteronormativity say that the existence of intersex, gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgendered people undermines any fundamental assumption that gender is naturally dichotomous. They believe it problematizes justifications such as the appeal to natural law, or certain Christian notions of faith in God’s plan or belief in the goodness of Creation.
This is viewed as being rather hypothetical to my church family, but it does exist. I was talking to a lesbian friend a few weeks back. I don’t see how it would be possible to try to push a Christian agenda onto her because she met a intersexual at last years pride picnic. How can you tell her about the ‘natural way’ god intended when she’s met a person created naturally who physically doesn’t abide by any of the laws of the creator?
The Christians are left in there own little fantasy world where these are not real problems because these people do not really exist. The truth is they do exist. They are either suppressed by our society and assigned a gender or they decide not to hang around churches because they don’t need to hear this ancient propaganda. Intersexuals are real, homosexuals are not pretending and the bible needs revising.
Update (3/3/06): I was reading back through this and thought I should add a link to this Four Corners transcript
(Janine Cohen’s report ‘The Gender Puzzle’, aired 25/07/2005):
“RACHAEL WALLBANK: We were able to take the court through a journey, really, a scientific journey that firstly dealt with the kind of diversity in human sexual formation, arising from chromosomal diversity as well as bodily formation diversity, to the point where we could deal with evidence concerning brain sex differentiation in the human being.
JANINE COHEN: The court was presented with several scientific studies suggesting a biological basis to transsexualism. A Dutch study looking at the hypothalamus of six male-to-female transsexuals found they had similar features to female brains. They examined the part of the brain essential for sexual behaviour and found it was the same size in female transsexuals as it was in other women. In men, this region of the brain, known as the bed nucleus of the stria terminalis, is much larger. The study suggested that gender identity develops as a result of an interaction between the developing brain and sex hormones. Other studies supported this theory.”
The Haircut
In the past, haircuts have been painful. They have been periods I’ve dreaded to the point of considering dreads. I’ve avoided the barber like the plague, but avoiding a ‘hairy’ leads only to magnified pain and suffering.
I am not exaggerating, I’m not blowing this out of proportion, hair cuts were a dominant factor in me wanting to leave home. For the past few years my brother and I would be terrorised by our parents because of our lack of pride in our appearance. Haircuts became the centre piece of their argument. As soon as we started to look slightly unruly they would begin pestering us to go and get our hair cut.
Dad would try to ensure us that we were very lucky to be able to get our hair cut by professionals. He never did until he was in his 20’s because his mum insisted that she would do it to save money. Mum and Dad tried to be reasonable, they told us that they would pay and we could have it cut however we wanted as long as it complied with the school rules. They didn’t understand, the only ‘style’ I wanted my hair in was that of an unruly, overgrown punk teenager who didn’t care the slightest about such superficial nonsense concerning outward appearance. I told them this. They agreed that it was superficial but they persisted that, “personal appearance is important because it tells the world what sort of person you are. A caring person takes pride in their presentation”. I told them that I didn’t want people to make such shallow judgements of me and I didn’t want respect from a world that would judge me on such a stupid property. I wanted a hair cut that reflected my belief that haircuts are vain and stupid and that people should have more important things to worry about (i realise it’s doublethink to say people should have more important things to worry about and then write an essay about the topic).
It was an argument I always lost, occasionally with tears. After a few weeks of this pointless debate I would tire and ‘go get my ears lowered (I never understood that expression but my uncle used it whenever someone got a haircut). I submitted to a haircut just to end the fight, because it wasn’t worth the energy.
Once a friend I knew from primary school who is now a hairdresser cut my hair and did a good job, it looked pretty funky. When I got home mother’s comment was “did you do that just to infuriate me?”. Needless to say, this is a pretty rude response when after weeks of torment your son has gone against his wishes and tried to abide by your code of practice.
Some time later it was getting to the stage again where my vision was being impaired. I’d been to the barbers a couple of times before and asked for a crew cut but on both occasions he refused because I have “beautiful hair”. It just seemed practical and it would remove some of my ascetic identity. It was what I wanted. So I went out to the shed, found dad’s shears and started hacking away at my head. It turned out a little harder then expected so I asked my sister to lend a hand. She took the clippers and tried to finish the 1mm crew cut. It was looking great but Becca insisted that there were some longer bits down towards the front left. She dug the clippers in and I ended up with some ripples running through my hair. It didn’t look cool, it looked messy, but frankly my dear, I didn’t give a damn.
Dad did though when he saw it. It was a crime against humanity to have such a half-arsed job and he ordered me to go to the barber to see if it could be fixed.
I knew it would be uncomfortable, but nothing could have prepared me for the reaction of the barber. He was torn apart by the loss. He somehow took it rather personally but agreed to try and fix it. He put the smallest guard on his clippers and pressed it hard into my scalp. After about ten minutes it was looking a little more professional so I asked him how much I owed him. He wouldn’t take it, he claimed he hadn’t given me a haircut, he hadn’t done anything and didn’t deserve any payment. I disagreed, he had worked his magic, so I left ten bucks (his usual price, bless his soul) on the counter and took off before further argument could be entered into. The next time he saw my dad he vented much anger for my disobedience and I coped it when dad got home and then again when I returned for my next hairy.
As a side note I would just like to mention the beauty of the crew cut. It is too easy to look after, little washing, no drying, no combing, no weight, improved aerodynamics, no problems. You cannot have a bad hair day. As far as practicality is concerned, this is as good as it gets. EVERYONE should try being bold, at least once.
Anyway, sick of the continuous arguing over haircuts I decided enough was enough. It was time for me to be my own master. I left home. I’ve been living away for about six months now and during this time my parents have only mentioned my hair once. I only see them about once a month and when I do they are much more gentle, they miss me, they really do love me. After six months in the wilderness my hair was getting kind of long and yesterday my hair was all over the place.
When mum pointed out how overdue I was I surprised her, telling her I was probably going to get it cut within 24 hours. I went on to explain that I was getting it cut by a girl who lives around the corner from my place. I was telling mum about the school this girl goes to when mum queried weather this girl was going to become a hairdresser. I don’t believe so. I told her that as far as I know her only experience was in cutting her own hair.
This notion was met with disbelief. Apparently I cannot do such an act. It is wrong and dangerous.
So, to spite her, and for the high novelty value I pursued this dream.
It had the potential to be little worrying at times with comments from the amateur hairdresser including “I really shouldn’t do it like this”, or “I don’t think this side is as good as the other”, or from her friend who was on looking: “are you crazy? she’s doing a terrible job, she’s gonning to screw it up”. I wasn’t phased though, this girl is artistically brilliant and she has good taste and if worse came to worse and she felt that she’d blotched it beyond repair, I told her it was fine to take razor to it and we’ll start again.
I paid her in chocolate bars and thanked her muchly. I returned home and checked it out. I decided it didn’t look too bad, very similar to styles I’d had before and I couldn’t see anything indicating that it had been crafted by a lay person. It looked great although I wasn’t overjoyed at the prospect of having to apply product in the morning and perhaps even have it trimmed within 2 months (I feel I need to do justice to such a good personal cut, normally I just let it grow out -and out and out some more). It was very good, but it seemed a little bit too high maintenance.
My flat mate got home a little later and she almost flipped. She thought it was fantastic and was surprised by how well the child had cut it. Even just then, as I was writing this several hours later she is still commenting on how good it looks so it must be all right. So i blow the sentiment of a raspberry into the face of my parents and all the non believers who snarked at the prospect of getting an experimental haircut. You were wrong and now I have a lighter head and my artist has a Turkish Delight.
Sorry if it’s stuffy and stale in here
apologies. Try as I might, I was unable to prevent the thick layer of dust from caking the surface of my blog. I predominantly blame blogger. I’ve run out of net usage at home which means I have to travel into uni to use the net. Normally this would be fine, but every time I was at uni blogger would log me into someone else’s blog so I was unable to post here. Soon Kent and Nimeton will have their own domain and server space and I will be able to leach a few Mb to hold my text independent of the inconveniences blogger has been causing.
Below are a few entries I prepared earlier. I had to reheat them but they should hopefully still taste all right and not be overly soggy.
Ode to Sparky
I actually wrote a song a while back called ode to sparky, but this limerick about my dog is much better and has had much greater success. Kent liked it and encouraged me to share it here.
there is a young doggie called spark
last night he decided to bark
he was born a good dog
but it’s quite a tough job
so poor spark is now locked in the dark
Limericks are cool
Believe it or not, I’m not obsessed with dogs. I used to be terrified of them.
Dawn
This is something I wrote the other morning. It seems a little spaced-out but exhaustion will do that to you.
I wake in darkness. I roll out of bed and check the time, 4:19. I stumble back onto the bed, the nokia display burnt deeply into my retina. I slumber for sometime and then wake. It’s much lighter now. I walk out into the living room and look out the front windows. It’s twenty past five and the sky is awash with oranges and deep reds. I figure I missed sunrise by ten minutes.
I wonder if they’d left without me, I don’t see why they would. My friend’s father wont let her sleep overnight at my other friends house, so early in the morning they rise and drive her back home before anyone else wakes up. It’s easily romanticised in my mind, a forbidden love that must act under the secrecy of the night. Now the concept seems even more romantic. The orange washes over the red and throughout the rest of the sky. Somewhat breathtaking.
After some hesitation I wake my friends. A minute later Michelle walks hypnotically into the lounge and slumps onto the couch. After a while I hear her say “I’m a tired little unny”. “Did you just say you’re a tired little bunny?” I ask. Her trance is broken and she gives a little laughs, “yeah, I guess I did.”
We drive for a while. I decide that when we stop to refuel it is close enough to my stop. I jump on my unicycle and bid them farewell.
It’s 6:12. There are lots of people awake. A cyclist climbs wearily up Glen Osmond road. The truck driver waves. The joggers jog.
The joggers are the happiest. They march along, greeting me with a smile and a welcome that some people would consider too happy for that time in the morning. Others may consider it too happy regardless of the time. Not me though, I thrive. The side street is empty. The absence of the normally overbearing noise of traffic leaves the sound of birds filling in the pauses in my music. As I roll, I air-drum to the music. I must look fairly funny but the only other people are still the joggers and I think they look even funnier as they waddle along their circular journey.
After one of the most peaceful rides of my life I turned into a empty drive way. I unlocked the door and entered the empty house. It was also peaceful, I was almost certain no one had been home for a few days. I put on some quite music and sat outside the door as I downed some breakfast. I had a shower and started reading Cujo by Stephen King. Soon it became too peaceful and I found myself napping for about an hour.
During these early hours I felt it was a wonderful time to be alive. My alarm is still set for 5am. I still want to watch the sun rise. I want to greet the morning joggers. I want to be tired before 1am. So far I have failed on all counts, but I am optimistic every night that I will act differently the following morning.
The Soothing Call of the Jack Russell 