On September 1st, 2018, I was walking to my local Rite Aid to do some last-minute shopping for a retreat that I was going on with my church later that day. As I was walking, a car slowed down next to me and the man driving it catcalled me. I glared at him, rolled my eyes, and strutted away from him with confidence, as if I wasn’t nervous that he would park his car somewhere, find me, and hurt me for not “appreciating his compliment”. Being catcalled is an unpleasant experience, but it’s not an uncommon one, for most girls. I’ve experienced it walking down the streets of Manhattan, waiting for the bus at 5:30am by my home, and at the pool. It’s unfortunately become too commonplace for me to exert as much energy being angry about it as I used to.
I browsed the medicine aisle looking for some allergy relief medication when my boyfriend texted me about “Ariana Grande and the priest”. He told me he was so sorry that men are the way that they are. I had no idea what he was talking about—but a quick Google search led me to the news that would make my stomach drop and cause tears to well up in my eyes just three seconds later.
If you haven’t heard about what happened, do the same Google search I did that day. Watch the video. I can’t rewatch it so I won’t put any pictures or videos here, but I remember the exact feeling I felt that morning, knowing that one of my favorite artists, and a woman I look up to with tremendous respect—not just because of her musical prowess, but because of her ability to deal with trauma, transparency about mental illness, and love for all kinds of people—had been humiliated in front of the entire world, live. And in that moment, she did what I also would have done in her situation — smiled uncomfortably in an effort to ignore what was happening to her for audiences everywhere to see, and waited for it to pass.
That same day, I saw that the Catholic Church would not be breaking the confessional seal to report child abuse that happened at the hands of priests who felt they were too untouchable to be kept accountable.
What happened to Ariana afterwards? Did she start a movement? Did she press charges? Did she post something on Instagram and end the caption with a #MeToo? Nope. This was all she tweeted:
She did what most girls do when they are disrespected — try to move past it and focus on more positive things. Except this wasn’t an ordinary catcalling on the street. This was something that happened live for millions of people to see, at a FUNERAL for one of music’s most beloved artists. But she felt compelled to treat the situation like I treated the man who catcalled me. We just tried to move on. And that’s what it seems like everyone else in the world has also done: they’ve moved on.
That day just over three weeks ago, as I walked home from Rite Aid, furious and devastated, I put “god is a woman” on repeat at full volume in my headphones. I’m fully aware of the complaints that some Christians have voiced about the song online for obvious reasons, and even though I find a lot of the innuendo in the song cringe-worthy and unoriginal, I had enjoyed the song since its release because of its production and Ariana’s vocals. I wondered, even as I was listening to it, why I felt so inclined to listen to that song on repeat, and I still couldn’t put it into words in the weeks to come until I listened to that song again today, as I was in the middle of writing an upcoming article about sweetener (shameless plug…stay tuned).
I thought to myself today that the message of the Church is that God is loving, forgiving, empowering, compassionate, encouraging — basically everything good, pure, and holy. God is unconditional love. But if women have experienced so much trauma at the hands of men, and have had very little positive experiences with men to, at the very least, balance the scales, what reason do women have to believe that God is a man?
Why did I see absolutely no remarks from any pastors about the incident?
Was it because of the length of Ariana’s dress at the funeral? I won’t go into detail about all the times I have been catcalled while I was wearing a winter coat, but to our pastors: need I remind you of John 8:1–11, when a woman caught in adultery was brought to Jesus by a crowd fully prepared to stone her? Jesus’ response to the crowd was, “Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her”. While I wouldn’t consider Ariana’s choice of attire something as serious as a sin, Jesus was fully aware of the woman’s life of sin, yet He chose mercy and gave her a chance at a new life, free from her crime, because He knew that He was to pay the price for her transgressions.
Was it because of things Ariana has said in the past, or the sexual content of some of her songs? To our pastors: need I remind you of John 4, when Jesus spoke of living water to the Samaritan woman who was married five times and considered an outcast, empowering her even just by making conversation with her in public? Many Samaritans in the woman’s town ended up coming to Christ because of her testimony.
I understand that there are some people out there who might have thought that what happened to Ariana was unintentional, and they may have a point. I can’t say that I know 100%, without a shadow of a doubt, what was happening in Pastor Ellis’ mind. But I love the way a friend of mine put it — if you’re driving and you unintentionally hit someone riding a bike, you’re not labeled a malicious person because of the incident, but you still have to come to terms with the fact that what happened was fully wrong, and take responsibility for the mistake. Where is the ownership, as a church body, for what happened? Where is the confession that what happened was fully wrong and that Pastor Ellis should be held accountable for his actions?
So, again, what reason do women have to believe that God is a man? As a woman who has also been mistreated by men in the past, what reason do I have to believe that God is a man?
Well, apart from theological reasons, when I look at the cross, I think of a Heavenly Father who loved me so much that He sent His Son to reconcile me to Him. I think about how God chose two women to discover the empty tomb of Jesus, and entrusted to them the Gospel message of Jesus’ triumphant resurrection that my faith hangs on. I think about how God used Rahab, a prostitute, to carry out His plan for Israel and spared her in the conquest of Jericho. I think about how I’ve been privileged enough to belong to a loving church community with men who truly love and respect me, and have given me a glimpse of what pure, brotherly love in the body of Christ can and should look like. Very, very few women can say that they share my experiences.
So what does this mean for the church? Christians have passed on far too many opportunities to speak up for people who don’t have a voice, and have instead contributed to beating them down instead.
Men, I want you to ask yourselves when you get up in the morning: how can I empower my sisters today?
Women, I know you’re tired—I’m tired, too—but don’t stop trying. Don’t stop trying to fight for the equality and justice that God will bring forth when we live in the new heaven and new earth that we are so looking forward to.
And for anyone with any sort of power, when it comes to race, religion, SES, ability, or whatever else, I want you to ask yourselves the following: how can I use my privilege to empower those who have been given the short end of the stick?
God had every right to condemn us. Instead, He took the short end of the stick on our behalf. The representation of Christ through His body is what’s at stake here. People’s souls are at stake here. Your move, Church.
