My Kind of Feminism: Sex and Christianity, Part 4

I know this firsthand. Around me every day for the past couple of weeks I've been surrounded by a group of people, mostly girls and women, whose lives have been transformed by generous love. I have spoken with nannies in obscure Chinese orphanages who have labored tirelessly to save orphaned girls. I have heard countless stories of parents, mostly Moms but also many Dads, whose lives have been turned inside out because of love for their Chinese daughters. I have spoken with girls of various ages, some now knocking on the door of college, who began lives on the other side of the world and who have forged identities amidst questions of heritage, race, language, and family ties.

My kind of feminism is not the kind that is predicated on girls and women imitating the worst patterns of some men. Rather, it is the kind that looks like passionate advocacy on behalf of girls and women whom God has created as daughters, sisters, friends, mothers, grandmothers; as students, professionals, workers, artists--but always as people whose desires point them toward their deepest joy. My kind of feminism recognizes that for some, their desires point them toward a profession; others, toward a family; others, elsewhere. In a word: my kind of feminism is rooted in the discernment of vocation, asking how our families, communities, government policies enable girls and women to grow in love.