Re-Stancing

Last night my husband and I "Skype-d" with that overseas friend of ours who is headed for monk-hood, the one I mentioned the post before last. (Skype, for anyone who doesn't know, is a lovely little free online messaging system that has voice and webcam connections. But probably everyone already knows that, because I'm usually the last to know about these techy kind of things!)

He talked a long time about the choice he was making before we said much, and then he asked us if we had any questions or concerns--almost like it was Mario and I about to make this choice instead of him. At first I was determined to uphold my state of stasis, to maintain my congratulatory tones, and keep any objections buried, subverted.

But hearing him describe the life he would be embarking on made me remember traveling in Southeast Asia and seeing the monks in Thailand walking the streets, with their shaved heads and robes the color of curry or saffron, and thinking about how they had to shy away from females that passed them. On buses, they would step carefully to avoid even the briefest, most perfunctory touch. The respectful world traveler in me, knowing the rules they abide by, was always careful when in proximity to give them space and distance. The mischeivous feminist in me, however, was always tempted to reach toward their bare arms.

So I asked our friend if he would ever be able to hug his women friends again. He responded that no, he would be able to hug Mario, but not me. In his new world, even the most innocent and friendly touch from a woman becomes something to be feared. What about your mom, your sister, I asked? He wasn't sure but said he would probably go ahead and hug them regardless of the rules. Then I asked him if he would ever be able to hold my daughter--at what age do girls become women and women become a threat?--and he didn't know that either.

Resentment was creeping into my voice at that point. Our friend--who has always been a bit of a playboy--responded to my tone by saying he would be learning to treat women as equals rather than objects.

But my heart rejects anything that forbids the loving hug of a friend, frowns on the cuddling of a cute baby girl, and constructs the female gender as such an insidiously evil threat.

I'll take my spiritually unenlightened life, thanks.