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The Room

I wrote this when I was a junior in college.  I graduated with a woman’s studies minor which turned out to be the hardest, most rewarding experience.  I grew to love the women that I shared hours with weekly.  I learned quickly that they desired everything that I did.  Proverbs 19:22 says that “what man desires is unfailing love.”  God used my experiences and these women to change my life in many ways.  Below is something that I wrote during one of my classes in regards to the women and the constant burden that I carried for them.

Twice a week we get together.  I walk up the three flights of stairs in Schneider Hall, wondering how I will get through the next hour and fifteen minutes with these women.  The atmosphere is different then any other room I have been in before.  They say they are accepting and open-minded but as soon as I walk into the room, I will be picked apart by eyes that question why I am so confident to enter into their territory.  That is what it is; their territory and their turf.  I will leave my safe bubble and enter into a world where there is no room for illiteracy in the area of liberal knowledge or women issues.  Once across the doorframe, one cannot turn around.

There are twenty-five feminists and one lesbian professor.  The seating arrangement is usually in the form of a circle.  The circle is created with the desks and this is done so that everyone may see each other and create an inviting environment.  My opinion is that they do this so that when one does speak up and if what that person is saying is not relevant to what their ears want to hear, they can easily question you heartlessly and cause you yourself to wonder why you said what you said.

My seat is next to Margo’s, a young woman who says that she finds both sexes attractive.  She has a stud in her chin, a hoop in her eyebrow and nose, and purple hair which is cut very short.  A butch cut, which is a common use of language in the woman’s studies department.  She is very pretty and likes it when I ask her questions.  She keeps me informed on what gender she is attracted to each day.  Yesterday she told me she was with a woman but that “it could change tomorrow.”  She also tells me that she likes to be loved.  “I do too,” I whisper.

This room is very dangerous, you see, because once in the room, you have to guard yourself so carefully.  You are in their hands and if you do not understand or know what you believe deeply, you are a perfect target for these women.  You are in danger of walking out a completely different woman.  But this is what they don’t know.  I am there to change them.  There are some days when I feel like a spy, taking notes and listening to every word they speak, trying to find what it is that their heart is crying out for.

It is kind of ironic that I am there trying to figure out what they desire when all along I have the answer.  I have the prescription that will heal their broken hearts, their “open-mindedness.”  I have the knowledge of the One who holds the key to their eternity.  That is a long time.  Why don’t I speak up?  Sometimes I know I am I too passive.  One would think that if someone had such important information such as I have, I should feel compelled to share it with each one of them.

They say that I am not a normal kind of feminist.  They do not see me at the feminist rallies or their once a month meetings on how to change the campus.  Might I just say how to change society as a whole?  They notice that I do not raise my voice or use derogatory words in class as I talk about men or President Bush in the way they always do.  When I am given the topic of submission to present in class, my main points are not related to theirs in any shape or form.  My idea of submission is foreign to them, a different language that they are not willing to learn or even hear out.  Apparently, openness and acceptance are the only classroom rules.  Oh, and smiles.  You must smile.

My professor’s office doesn’t hold the same rules behind closed doors.  I am unable to choose a subject to study, such as pro-life.  “They will tell you lies.”  Apparently, pro-life centers will tell me “lies.”  Truth is desired.  Everyone is right and nobody is wrong.  That is, except me.

I approach the door, grab the door handle and pull.  The Lord is here.  The Lord is very much alive.  His truth is present.  I walk through the door.  The women look uncomfortable.  I sit down.  This room is holy ground.



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