Example exhibits A and B:

Those who know me personally (or who even simply know the reputation of Sydney Anglicans, of which I’m a card-carrying member), will appreciate how humorous it is that I’m now regularly being called a feminist. If nothing else, the label evidences just how thin some of our American evangelical friends’ cultural and contextual understanding is. Their world is very narrow indeed.

But that aside, how do I respond to the moniker in principle? Well, in earlier post I asked (and answered):

That’s what it is to be a feminist now?! The bar is now so low that simply affirming the human female was designed by God to be equally capable of rationality, equally invested in preserving truth, equally concerned with guarding what is good — and, tragically, that these good design features in women were just as compromised by sin as they were in men — is enough to be branded a feminist? That’s where we’ve shifted the goal posts to, huh?

No. I’m not “a feminist”.

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In a typically thoughtful comment on that post, my very perceptive friend J, wrote the following:

Until very recently, I have done a lot of rhetorical and emotional work to carefully signal to my conservative peers that I’m “not a feminist” while I seek to improve the conversation around men, women, relationships, and gender difference in the church. However, I have come to realize that most Christians I know have only a vague notion of what “a feminist” is (or that it is not one monolithic thing) and therefore it has become an almost empty term that often means “person [usually woman] whose ideas about gender I find too progressive.”

All that being said, I’m curious how YOU define what you are distancing yourself from when you say “I’m not a feminist,” and whether you would agree that you do hold to ideas that were considered “feminist” in the past (such as women’s intellectual equality with men – cf. Mary Wollstonecraft) and therefore may find yourself a type of feminist simply by affirming the human female was designed by God to be equally capable of rationality, equally invested in preserving truth, equally concerned with guarding what is good — and, tragically, that these good design features in women were just as compromised by sin as they were in men" [side note: AMEN!]".”

J’s insightful reflections and consequent questions were so thought-provoking that I decided they deserved a standalone response. You’ll see that some of what I have to say below echoes some of what she has already said (especially in her first paragraph)

So here goes my attempt to explain why I’m not a card-carrying feminist. #SpoilerAlert: I’ve left the most important reason to the end.

Because it’s Such a Woolly Word

I agree with J that:

“…most Christians I know have only a vague notion of what “a feminist” is (or that it is not one monolithic thing) and therefore it has become an almost empty term”

“Feminism” consists of eight letters that, when put together, say both everything and nothing. All at the same time. For example, consider Joe Rigney’s recent description of what feminism apparently stands for and seeks to do:

[Feminism] hates womanhood as womanhood, and it constantly seeks to turn women into men. That’s the lie of interchangeability. Feminism treats the womb as a problem, a barrier to a woman’s flourishing… Feminism convinces women to forsake or postpone marriage and child-bearing in favor of climbing the corporate ladder and breaking glass ceilings.

Well, I guess that’s one definition. But is it accurate or caricatured? Well, let’s (very briefly) consider the 150ish years of (official) feminist history.

First-wave feminism (late 19th - early 20th Centuries) led to women getting the vote, being able to own property and beginning to develop a legitimate public voice and presence. Amongst other things, Second-wave feminism (c. 1960s-1980s) was responsible for the proliferation of birth-control, abortion and female sexual autonomy abandon. Third-wave feminism (c. 1990s-2011) focused on “queering” norms and promoting allyship with other “minority identities”. Alongside its spearheading of the #MeToo movement, Fourth-wave feminism (c. 2012 to present) has devoted itself to trans ideology and rights.

Given this, what does it mean to be a “feminist” today?

Is it some of these things? All of these things? Can a feminist hold one or two of these convictions while rejecting all the others? Is it possible to believe that women’s participation in democratic elections, their ability to open a bank account and their increased presence in the workforce were good societal developments, while also believing that men and women are not interchangeable and that marriage and motherhood remain very important and noble vocations for women to pursue and even prioritise?

Can a woman, like Megan Basham be a wife and a mother and a best-selling author and a professional journalist without being in danger of being derided as “a feminist”? Or does the fact that she is married and has children automatically give her a pass? Is it just those of us women who are single and/or childless but who also have a job that need to brace ourselves for the label and be willing to bear up under its weight?

Furthermore, does being a direct beneficiary of the pioneering work of the First-wave feminists mean that all women who celebrate any of those historical developments as beneficial (for women and society alike) automatically become feminists? Would those earliest feminists willingly go by that label today? Would they even recognise their ideas amongst or consider them consistent with the mix-tape of contemporary feminism?

Feminism is a woolly word that means different things to different people in different places at different times within different contexts (as Joe Rigney demonstrates in the quote above).

And so while there are some aspects of early feminist advocacy which I not only agree with, but am thankful for, I choose not to call myself a feminist (or even directly associate with it) because who even knows what I would mean by doing so? The label creates confusion rather than clarity.

That’s the first reason I don’t call myself a “feminist”.

Because it’s Become the Boogey(wo)man

In The Nightmare Before Christmas, Oogie Boogie is the literal (or, at least, the animatedly literal) embodiment of the Boogeyman. He’s a villainous burlap sack, stuffed full of writhing insects. He thrives on generating fear and chaos. He wields terror to scare people into staying in line.

For many evangelicals, “feminism” is the Oogie Boogie of the contemporary evangelical world.

It’s the monster lurking in the corner waiting to devour your God-fearing girls (and so empowering them to devour your God-fearing boys). It’s the red-eyed devil that wants you shaking in your boots so you’re willing to do its progressive bidding. It’s the sacrilegious ideology, ‘The Queen of the Woke’ and the primary source of all theological anthropological distortion in Western culture.

Consider Megan Basham’s earlier comments about my (supposed) feminist tendencies:

“The objections are clearly feminist in nature”.
”It seems pretty obvious that you have tendencies towards a feminist outlook”

She’s not interested in encouraging you towards a healthy evaluation of what aspects of my objections are (allegedly) feminist and in what particular sense that is the case. She’s not trying to inspire you to undertake an even-handed analysis of my outlook to identify what features are (allegedly) a problematic inheritance of historical feminism or a destructive expression of contemporary feminism. She provides no definition, exploration or justification of exactly what she means by “feminism”. She’s not interested in establishing why, in her view, having a “feminist outlook” is an altogether destructive thing.

But why would she be? That’s not the point, is it?

Rather, the point is to paint me (as a critic of something she wants to defend) as an enemy to be defeated—or at the very least, trolled into oblivion. The point is to “abject other” me so that the substance of my ideas doesn’t need to be dealt with. Those comments about my “clear” and “obvious” feminism are nothing more than a dog-whistle to everyone who is already convinced that feminism is The Boogey(wo)man set on devouring not only the evangelical church, but Western society as a whole.

Forget acknowledging that the same best-selling female journalist with over 155K followers on Twitter/X and who writes for the Daily Wire, the Wall Street Journal and the Telegraph wouldn’t have ever been in a position to achieve any of that had the First-wave (and also the Second-wave) of feminism never materialised. We don’t need to bother with inconvenient, complex stuff like historical reality. All we need to know is that feminism is the dark shadow looming in the corner, ready to terrify you into doing its will.

And so, if you want to conveniently dismiss someone’s argument, sideline their critique or caricature them personally—especially if they are a woman— then all you need to do is call them a “feminist”. Congratulations. Your work here is done.

That’s the second reason I don’t call myself a “feminist”.

Because of All the Invisible Tripwires

Recently, a foolish controversy erupted on X/Twitter (what else is new?) when one man posted the following in response to another man’s post in which he celebrated a Christian woman’s appointment to an editorial position at Crossway.

He then followed it up with this…

And this…

And this…

I could continue with more of his posts on the topic, but for all of our sakes, I’ll leave it there.

Now, don’t worry about the details here. The thing I want you to note is how we are told over and over again that the real problem with a qualified Christian woman being appointed to an editorial position within a Christian publisher (instead of a Christian man and father) is, yep, you guessed it: Feminism. Also known as the “feminizing” of evangelicalism (it’s a woolly word, remember?).

Thankfully, a bunch of male Christian leaders (eventually) came to the defense of this Christian sister who had been turned into a social-media punching bag. But a primary argument—especially amongst the most conservatively minded of them—was that her appointment wasn’t problematic because:

1. They knew her personally and could confirm that she isn’t a feminist. Stand down, everyone. She’s not one of “them”.
   
   and/or…
   

2. It’s not like she had been appointed as CEO or something. Her editorial work wasn’t significant enough to trigger the feminist alarm.

In other words, it turned out that (some) of Christian Twitter decided her appointment was to be allowed. But not because of what it was. No. It was to be allowed because of what it wasn’t: feminism in action.

A regular team challenge featured in some of my favourite strategy-based reality TV shows involves contestants entering a dark room tricked out with red-laser beams acting as digital trip wires. One by one, they need to contort their bodies over, under and around all of those beams without setting any of them off. Recently, the producers of one particular show upped the ante by making the wires invisible to the naked eye. They divided the contestants into pairs and gave one of each pair a set of goggles that magically (OK, probably scientifically) allowed them to see the laser beams. That person’s job was to yell out verbal instructions to guide their metaphorically blind (and usually very confused, frustrated, and even panicky) partner through the maze of metaphorically dangerous beams and safely out the other side.

That’s precisely how “feminism” is used by many evangelicals today. It’s a complex maze of invisible and highly sensitive trip wires, each rigged to be set off as soon as someone (especially a woman) brushes up against it.

But many of us (especially women) can’t see the wires. We’re told that we have become so conditioned by and to our environment that we’re now blind to their location. Even their presence. And so we need to rely upon (typically male) guides who have the special ability to see the invisible wires on our behalf. They need to instruct us on exactly how many steps we can take in any one direction before we trip over one of them and tumble headfirst into that thing called “feminism”. They have the authoritative knowledge and insight. They tell the rest of us when we must freeze and go no further. They yell when we have taken a step too far and set off the alarm.

Meanwhile, our job is to accept without question that the laser beams they can see are not only there but in the exact location they claim them to be. When they announce that we’ve triggered one of the beams and tripped the warning system, our job is to retreat without hesitation or investigation.

Here’s the problem, though. For a guide who:

1. Sees in the woolly word whatever meaning they wish to see in it, and…

2. Sees feminism as the nasty boogey(wo)man set on devouring church and society as a whole…

… then pretty much everything they don’t like is a tripwire.

Or as J. put it in her comment:

“[Feminism] has become an almost empty term that often means “person [usually woman] whose ideas about gender I find too progressive.”

The boundaries are whatever they say they are. The limits are whatever limits they have decided to set. They dictate what feminism is and is not. They proclaim which women do and do not have a “feminist outlook”. They determine which jobs a woman can and cannot do without tumbling into the pit of ideology from which there can be no return.

And we… well, we have no right of reply.

And if we do dare pop our head above the parapet and say “Ummm. Are you sure? That doesn’t seem quite right”, we are immediately met with “Shut up you feminist!”

Being seen to have any sort of affinity with anything that could be remotely considered to have any vague association with feminism immediately renders you an evangelical transgressor. (Unless you are a Megan Basham-esque figure with a profile that is high enough, an agenda that is conservative enough and a platform that is useful enough to earn you a pass). You’re surrounded by invisible tripwires whose complex layout has been pre-determined according to the goggles someone else is peering through. Indeed, there are multiple sets of tripwires, multiple people, multiple goggles to negotiate.

The deck is stacked. The game is rigged. You’ve lost before you even made your first move. So why even try and play them at their game?

That’s the third reason I don’t call myself a “feminist”.

Because I’m a Christian

But here’s the most important reason why I choose not to articulate or advocate for my beliefs about what it is to be a woman in this world in association with feminism.

It’s because I am a Christian.

Now, before some of you get your metaphorical knickers in a metaphorical knot, let me say what I don’t mean by that.

• I don’t mean that being a Christian and having any sort of affinity with feminist thought is always and utterly incompatible.

• I don’t mean these things are always and obviously compatible with each other either. I think there is plenty within (particularly recent/later) feminist ideology that stands in direct contradiction with life lived in light of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

• I don’t mean that Christians should not be alert to, able to discerningly evaluate and speak out about where secular ideology (including tenets of contemporary feminism) corrupts faithful theology and life in the household of God.

So, what do I mean by saying that I’m not a feminist because I’m a Christian?

I mean that the primary reason I don’t align myself with or borrow from a secular or ideological feminist framework to determine and describe what it means to live, love and relate as a woman of God is because I have a far more eternal and reliable framework for doing precisely that. It’s a Jesus-shaped one.

The tenets of feminism (woolly word that it is) do not account for what I believe. The teaching of the Bible informs what I believe.

I don’t need historical feminism to defend the rightful equality of women and men. God himself has made it clear that both men and women are created in his image and that salvation in Christ comes to male and female alike.

My impulse to identify misogyny where I see it is not informed by “pretty obvious…tendencies towards a feminist outlook”. Rather, it is compelled by how Jesus himself loves, dignifies and values his female disciples and calls us to do the same.

I’m not a feminist because, before, over, and above anything else I could ever be, I’m a Christian.

And that is more than enough for a woman like me.
In fact, that is everything.

These days, I’m finding that position increasingly untenable.

Maybe it’s age? Maybe it’s maturity? Maybe it’s changing contextual circumstances? Maybe it’s disillusionment? Maybe it’s all these things combined? Whatever it is, I now find myself less and less willing to let moments of Christian misogyny pass without identifying it for what it is. And this, not despite my complementarian convictions but precisely because of them.

I write all of this by way of introduction to some reflections I want to offer on this recent article, How the Pill Obscures God’s Truth in Creation.

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An Apology, A Restatement & Initial Thoughts

But first, I need to make an apology to Peter, the author of that article. When I read the article a few days ago, I made this off-the-cuff comment:

The reality is this hasty post was neither thoughtful nor helpful. I’m sorry for that and am humbled by Peter’s generous reply in which he asked me to “Say more.” As you’ll see, I remain unpersuaded by some aspects of his article and some of his comments about or implications for women in particular. However, I really don’t like the fact that I’m now “primed” to spot what I think are instances of misogyny and then automatically interpret them as unapologetically or intentionally so. Peter, I’m sorry for doing that here. I need to do better at discerning between a piece like yours and a piece like this (whose anonymous misogyny makes it next to impossible to appreciate any points of theological substance buried underneath the casual chauvinism).

I also think it is important for me to restate something I said in that (somewhat ill-advised) tweet. I firmly believe that we evangelicals are way overdue for a reckoning when it comes to contraception, IVF and even adoption. I think our general approach and attitude to these matters display significant inconsistent (sometimes even contradictory) theological reasoning and grossly inadequate pastoral application. (I’ve found Matthew Lee Anderson’s contributions—e.g., here, here and here—well worth considering). All of which is to say,  I suspect Peter and I share broadly overlapping concerns on the topic of contraception as a whole (more on that below).

Having said all of that, I still have some thoughts…

The Problem that is [Contraception] the Pill.

I recognise that not every article can say everything about anything related to its premise statement. In other words, Peter’s argument doesn’t need to incorporate a discussion about all forms of contraception to evidence his premise about why one particular form of contraception is uniquely problematic. But here’s the thing…

Peter argues that the Pill is the form of contraception primarily responsible for the obscuring of divinely designed sexual differences. For example:

“The main technology that obscures God’s truth in our sexual differences is oral contraception, approved by the FDA in 1960”

“But it [i.e., the Pill] also severed the link between sex and procreation in the minds of entire generations. In doing so, it paved the way for no-fault divorce, same-sex marriage, and today’s transgender movement with its neologisms like “pregnant person,” “chestfeeding,” and “people who menstruate.”

These are significant claims to make about this one particular contraceptive technology in particular. And yet, immediately after laying all of these evils at the feet of the Pill, the rest of the article consistently conflates the broader category of contraception (and its effects) with the Pill specifically. For instance:

• The terms “the Pill” and  “contraception” are regularly used interchangeably, as if they were absolutely synonymous with each other or the sum is represented by the part.

• The article offers two quotes (one from Harrington and another from Akerlof and Yellen) to substantiate the detrimental consequences it ascribes to the Pill. However, in context, both sources are actually talking about the development and availability of contraception technology broadly.

• The article links the uptake in contraception with the uptake of abortion (FYI: I think it is a fair link to explore). But it then continues, “Because Christians oppose abortion, we tend to think we’re immune to the Pill’s other effects”, as if abortion is a direct effect of the Pill.

But does this casual conflation of contraceptive technology with the Pill matter? Am I being unnecessarily pedantic?

Well, yes, I think it does matter. The article titles and frames its argument around the Pill itself rather than contraception more broadly. Peter is seeking to say something specific about this particular form of contraception. And that’s fine. There is room, even good reason, to focus specifically on the impact of the Pill on society and the Church.

But to conflate the broader impacts of contraception with the Pill and then lay all (or almost all) of these terrible consequences at its feet is problematic for a number of reasons. Not the least of these is that doing so lays all (or almost all) of those terrible consequences at the feet of those who swallow the Pill—women.

Oh, certainly, men come into play. They are assigned some responsibility. But only as a secondary result of the reproductive agency the Pill offers to women.

“Whereas in the past, a young man felt social pressure to marry a girl he got pregnant, that sense of obligation diminished with the Pill. If a woman can control her “reproductive life” as the Pill promised, then how can a man be held accountable for her pregnancy? Men began to feel less responsibility for their sexual actions…”

Sure. Ok. I can absolutely see how ready access to the Pill exacerbated the issue of men’s sexual irresponsibility. But the key word there is exacerbated. That problem didn’t spring into being with the Pill.  It was a rampant problem before the Pill.  Furthermore, it was a rampant MALE problem before the Pill, that WOMEN inevitably bore the brunt of.

This is where the red flags of subtle (unintended) prejudice against women first started waving gently in the breeze for me. As far as I can see, the article places the bulk of the responsibility for men’s (worsening) irresponsibility on women and their newfound reproductive agency, rather than where it actually belongs and has always belonged. Soley and squarely on men. I don’t think it was intentional in the argument as framed. But I do think it is the inevitable read of the argument as framed..

As I read, I couldn’t help but wonder why there is no mention of a certain other form of contraceptive technology whose ready availability predated the Pill by centuries (millennia, even)—the condom. Here are some stats that reveal just how pervasive that form of contraception was in the decades immediately prior to the Pill:

“By the mid-1930s, the fifteen major condom manufacturers [in the US] were producing one and a half million a day at an average price of a dollar per dozen,” Gamson writes. During World War II, condom production ramped up to 3 million a day, because condoms were given to American troops.1

For all the article’s talk about the detrimental personal and societal consequences of contraception, why doesn’t that technology get a mention?

The Bitter Pill of Double Standards

Well, I think the answer to that question lies in the fact that the article does not actually want to focus on the broader problematic effects of contraception generally—although, I do think there are numerous points where it does seem to dive into this, thereby confusing or even veiling its main goal and focus. What is its main goal or focus? It wants to identify one specific problem that it contends is the direct responsibility of the Pill in particular— the flattening of sexual differentiation between men and women.

Now, at this point, I must make a confession. Even as I understood the article's premise, I was confused about aspects of its argumentation. Numerous reads later, and I still remain somewhat confused. I think (hope!) I now get it—read on. But it took me some time to parse its particular claims about how and why the Pill has obscured sexual differentiation between men and women and what that obscured differentiation actually is. I’d encourage you to read it for yourself and make up your own mind as to whether you think I’ve understood it correctly or not.

Let me start with what I don’t think the argument is saying.

 “the Pill has reshaped our understanding of women’s fertility, making it more conceptually aligned with the way we think about men’s ability to engage in sex without necessarily considering procreation”

In other words, the Pill has allowed women to treat sex and its consequences as cavalierly as men do. This means the two sexes are now much more like each other in terms of their ability to engage in sex without proper consideration of the consequences. Now, as much as that seems to me a natural reading of that particular quote in the broader premise of the article, I cannot and do not believe that Peter actually thinks that this is the “splendour of our sexual differences” that have been lost by the Pill. That is, I cannot and do not think that he is lamenting the fact that men have lost the capacity to be uniquely cavalier in making unwise or sinful sexual choices.

So if not that, then what?

Well, I think we see a glimpse of the answer in the quote offered from Mary Harrington:

[The Pill] “promised to flatten the most irreducible difference of all between the sexes: pregnancy.” 

I think the sexual differentiation that the article laments has been flattened is pregnancy (namely, that pregnancy is something women used not to be able to avoid. But now they can). Peter seems to confirm this when later he writes (emphasis added):

“… so contraception [Note: In a previous sentence it was the Pill that was specifically on view] clouds our Christian ability (and sometimes our desire) to see the splendor of our sexual differences. It’s easier than ever before to think of men and women as mostly interchangeable. Many of us do. We unwittingly make men the measure of women, whether in work or life or the church”.

I fell prey to this way of thinking when my daughters were little. I’d sometimes ask them what they wanted to be when they grew up and then suggest all sorts of wonderful things like a teacher or writer or doctor. I came to realize I was suggesting everything except the one thing only a woman can be: a mom.”

I think Peter is saying that the sexual differentiation that the Pill has compromised is this: Because women are now able to avoid the reality of pregnancy, and so freely pursue (and be distracted) by other aspirations without regard for that, this makes them more like men.

I think the key phrase here is that the Pill has led us to “unwittingly make men the measure of women”. Peter illustrates this by speaking of how he encouraged his young daughters to dream big about everything they might grow up to be until he realised that he was himself flattening their unique sexual differentiation. How? By not ever suggesting the one thing that is the unique measure of a woman— being a mother. (Hold that thought. We’ll come back to it in just a moment)

So, in summary, this is what I have come to understand the article’s overall argument about the flattening effect of the Pill to be:

1. Because women are the ones who get pregnant, the unique measure of what it is to a woman is—or at least must necessarily include reference to—being a mother.

2. Men can be fathers (and that’s great!). However, because they don’t get pregnant, the unique measure of what it is to be a man does not necessarily include reference to being a father.

3. By providing them with agency over whether or not they get pregnant, the Pill has enabled women to measure what it is to be a woman without necessary reference to falling pregnant and being a mother.

4. In other words, they are now like men in that respect.

5. And so, the Pill has uniquely obscured the sexual differentiation of men and women.

Sorry friends, but I sense a double standard lurking here.

Why is the measure of a woman found uniquely in what only she can do—being a mother—while the measure of a man is not found uniquely in what only he can do—being a father?  

Why is the male measure consistent with “all sorts of wonderful things like a teacher or writer or doctor” without reference to fatherhood, while a female’s measure may possibly allow for some of those wonderful things, but only so long as it includes reference or allowance to motherhood?

(Note: I’m not saying I think motherhood should be incidental to womanhood. Rather, I’m questioning why fatherhood is considered incidental to manhood.)

Is this really what we think lies at the heart of sexual differentiation between men and women? Women get pregnant and so their measure is rightly made in relation to that. Men don’t get pregnant and so their measure is not necessarily related to their capacity to impregnate women?

From what I can see, that seems to be the conclusion of this article. From what I have been able to understand, that is the sexual differentiation it claims has been tragically flattened by the Pill, and the Pill in particular (and therefore by women, and women in particular).

Unfortunately, I think this results in the diminishment of the privilege and responsibility of both men and women in this creation. What is more, this diminishment is characterised by unintentional and subtle, but nonetheless inevitable, misogynistic undertones.

If we are going to measure what it means to be a woman by her capacity to bear children (and become a mother), then we also need to measure what it means to be a man by his capacity to impregnate women with children (and become a father). If we are going to exhort women to form their expectations of how they go about fulfilling the creation mandate to work in this world in necessary conjunction with their privilege of conceiving children, then we need to exhort men to form their expectations of how they go about fulfilling the creation mandate to work in this world in necessary conjunction with their role in the conception of that child.

To put it simply, I don’t think the argument or conclusions of this article truly honour the equality that is implicit within sexual differentiation. And I don’t think this is healthy or honourable for women or men alike.

Postscript: I feel I need to clarify that while I believe God’s design for conception and procreation is absolutely intrinsic to sexual differentiation in this creation, I am resistant to the idea that it represents the ontological definition of sexual differentiation (i.e. that it is the absolute, fundamental, eternal thing that differentiates men from women). We will all still be men and women in the resurrection age. But there and then, none of us will be having sex, being impregnated, impregnating others or becoming parents. This suggests to me that procreation is essential to understanding God’s design and intent for manhood and womanhood in this age. But that it is not the basis for our telic understanding of differentiated manhood and womanhood as an eternal ontological reality that will be perfected in the new creation. As Christians, we straddle both of those ages and so should resist defining what it is to be a man or a woman now solely on the basis of this creation alone. But that’s a discussion for another day. My point in this piece has been to critique this article on its own terms and according to its own argument.