I Dare You

I wish I had said this … but it seems that all I can add is ‘ditto’.



I was seven years old, sitting in my metal student desk, wearing my appropriate length skirt, staring up at the hole-y paddle on the wall, when I was first told girls couldn’t be pastors. I went home and cried and told my mom I wanted to be a boy.

How dare you.

I was standing next to my parents in the church parking lot, staring at the black asphalt beneath my feet, listening to a grown woman weep. She was telling my parents her ministry had been shut down. The church elders had determined she was teaching men. I felt humiliated for her, and for all women, everywhere.

How dare you.

I was sitting in high school theology class, with my legs crossed femininely under a skirt and a white folding table, when a missionary told us that only men could fly planes on the mission field and only men…

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