Frenemies, Punk and the J-Word

The other day, I was reading an article in The Guardian about female friendship. The (female) author was talking about how in the media, more and more, friendships between women are being portrayed as more competitive than supportive. It's true- if I see another bloody film or read another article about "frenemies", I'll go mad. Every episode of Gossip Girl is about women trying to undercut other women, double-crossing and bitching and humiliating each other so that they can be the prettiest or richest or smartest or so that they can get the man. There's female celebrities constantly feuding and making snide remarks, there's whole magazines dedicated to ripping other women's "flaws" apart, there's older women presenters being sacked for more "attractive", younger women. And then outside of the media, there's competition over everything from jobs to men. The article reckons that, due to a bunch of factors, women are turning against each other. Because there is still inequality in our society (and if you don't believe me, read my previous posts on feminism, ha!), us girls are frequently pitted against each other. Interestingly, in Cheryl Cole's recent interview with Piers Morgan, he asked her a question about competition between her and Danni Minogue, and said something about how Amanda Holden had been gutted when she heard that Kelly Brook would be on Britain's Got Talent. Cheryl objected to the question, saying that women shouldn't always be pitted against each other- that they're both beautiful, talented women, with different strengths and skills. Cheryl had a point, the male presenters don't get pitted against each other like that. But then again, the men rarely get sacked so a younger, more "attractive" woman can replace them- so you can see why Amanda was worried (step up Danni vs. Sharon Osbourne, Arlene vs. Alesha etc). Because, more often than not, women are competing for roles that are at a premium and the only way they can survive in them is by being ruthless and bringing each other down. And it's not cool.

And it got me thinking about how this works in my life and the women around me. Bikini Kill (my favourite-best-ever girl band (although I still love you, Courtney Love), were part of a political, music movement called "Riot Grrrl" which was all about how hard it is for women in band scenes and how they can only ever be the lead singer and only if they're "hot" and how it's really threatening for girls to even get involved in bands and learning to play because you have to be AMAZING at guitar or whatever for anyone to take you seriously and so, girls don't get to go through that "I'm rubbish but I'm learning and that's okay" thing boys do in teenage bands. (also, they sing some kick-ass songs that are clever and funny and deal with interesting subjects). Bikini Kill have this super cool flyer that says "Encourage in the face of insecurity"- and about how the "J-word", jealousy, is the killer of girl love. This is SO true. Too often, I've felt a bit crap about what I look like or how I am and I've been around someone who I think is really pretty and I'm threatened by the girl so I am bitchy about her, I see her as competition. We've all been a victim of underhanded bitching from girls, if not open meanness- or been aware that we see other girls as a threat or competition. It even happens at Church and that sucks. I don't want to be a part of that.

Once, i was seeing this boy but he broke up with me because he realised he still likes his ex-girl friend. It made me feel pretty bad. I knew I had to see him at a stupid wedding the next week so I bought nice clothes and new, super-expensive make-up (this story is flawed, that was a stupid way to cheer myself up but whatever). Anyway, I got sat next to the ex-girlfriend at the wedding. I didn't even know she'd be there. I didn't even want to look her in the face because I felt so jealous and sad. I'd never met her before but anyway, we started chatting and we got to talking (somehow) about make-up and she said she felt really unattractive that day because she couldn't wear any make-up on her eyes because she was having really bad allergies and she couldn't afford the expensive stuff. In my handbag, I had the expensive, hypo allergic Lancome eyeliner and mascara I'd bought to cheer myself up. I knew I had other make-up at home and I knew that this was a turning point for me. There was a quiet voice in my head telling me to give her the make-up as a gift and I knew it was a stupid, tiny thing to do but it was a turning point for me because it meant letting go of being jealous and hurt and choosing to try to be friends with this girl, even though I wanted to hate her. So, i gave her it and she was really stoked and we made friends and she is a lovely girl. And it felt good to be friends with her, despite the odds and despite the fact that I wanted to tear her down because her being pretty and nice made me feel worse. In the end, I realised that the boy liked her and that didn't mean she was better than me, just that the boy wasn't right for me.

So, I want to carry on trying to give away mascara to people I want to hate. I won't let my insecurities get in the way anymore. I won't allow myself to be in competition with other women- to be the cleverest or prettiest or thinnest. I won't put someone else down because I feel bad. I won't see myself as better or worse than another woman or put myself in a hierarchy or "leagues". I won't submit to all the crap we are unwittingly taught that says women can't be friends with other women. I won't bitch or back stab. I won't subscribe to crap theories about being the "alpha female". And if there's a chance to build up another woman or compliment her or put her forward, I'll do it. I will promote the best there is about being friends with another girl- the kindness and compassion and the understanding. And I will work, with my lovely friends, towards being the best kind of women we can be- those that encourage in the face of insecurity and never allow ourselves to be threatened by another girl or pitted against someone else- for jobs, for boys, for friends or for popularity. And I think that we can do it.

Thoughts on my last post (hubris or God taking me seriously?)

Here's something funny; Last week, I got a big shock at work. Cuts, changes in funding and "restructuring" means that my job doesn't exist anymore. (The government funding body for drug treatment said "We want as many people off drugs, off benefits and into work as quickly and as cheaply as possible". They actually said that. That is their brief as a body. Forget people, forget quality of life, forget caring, forget making sure the women are healed and well equipped and will stay clean for the rest of their lives. Quick fixes. Statistics.) I have no idea what will happen next- they're not gonna get rid of me (that's nice)....I'm either gonna be kinda demoted (more anti-social hours, less input with the women, no emotional supporting, just practical stuff. I'm not really a practical person) or they might decide to invest in me and massively promote me- send me back to uni to become an addictions counsellor or something. The first option would not be great. The second option would be awesome, my ten year future plan (I mean, one of them- I also want to be an MP, a policy adviser on sex work, foster children, travel America, and write a book), condensed in to a few years. The first option is likely. The second option seems unlikely.

And it's funny, because of my last blog post. I'm all like "yes, I don't wanna stand still, I wanna do some new stuff, take some risks". Great attitude, kid. But it's pretty hard when you're in it. Is this God punishing me (surely not, bit too Old Testament style) or taking me seriously? This is a scary place and it's a new place. Loads is at risk for me- I love my job, I love the charity I work for, the pay is ok, i love who I work with...but also stuff about pride- could I take a demotion?

But it has got me to start thinking about a few things- trusting that God has a good plan for me. Trusting that I'd find something else to do. Trusting that it will be okay. But also, thinking about God's way of doing things. I wasn't qualified (really) for this job. I'm not the best choice to invest in (as a trainee counsellor)- I'm young and comparatively inexperienced and soetimes silly. But through history, God has used silly people for great things- lispy people to make speeches, murderers to teach laws about justice, sex workers as saviours of cities and haters to lead a new, loving way of life. And I'm all about taking chances on people, chucking stuff away on people who might not appreciate it and putting my trust in people who lie to me. So, this is not to say that I'll get the promotion because I might not. But this has reminded me how it feels to be offered a chance to grow into something you don't fit yet and I like it. Like Jesus does. Like Sufjan imagines God saying "I've an idea for you, placed in your mind, to be a better man". God buries something in all of us, an idea of being a better man, no matter how unlikely that seems. I'm gonna try to give chances and expect more of people and offer olive branches and honour people that might seem not to deserve it- because, it feels pretty nice when someone takes a chance on you.

Challenge me, c'mon

Today feels like a good time to take stock of stuff. I've been working at One25 for a year now, I've lived in Bristol for a little longer than that and I've been living in the dream house/hippie commune/18Th century vicarage for 7 months now. In many ways, I'm living the dream (my dream, in any case). Maybe you're catching me on a good day (and today IS a good day, it's beautiful and autumnal outside, I feel good about myself and the world and my house is temporarily peaceful and quiet and still). There are still days where I feel like I can't handle the life I've chosen (or the life that's chosen me)- I've hit the year mark for working in a residential mothers and babies unit for women exiting street sex work and coming off heroin and crack and I see why people kept telling me that there's a shelf life for working in a residential setting. It gets in your head. It's hard sometimes living my life in a communal way- sometimes I want to read my book and listen to music and be alone but it doesn't always work like that. And sometimes my home life is suspiciously close to my work life. There are days when I think that if I hear one more traumatic story first hand about violence or rape or abuse or sadness, i will start crying and never stop. Or I think I will stop feeling anything anymore and I'm not sure which one is worse. And sometimes I'm astounded by how much I want to run away- to Vienna or Stockholm or Tennessee. or even London. Somewhere where I can buy back in to trying to be indie and cool.

But mostly these days, I think I am pretty happy with where I am and what my life is like. (Gosh, this sounds very self satisfied and smug, doesn't it? Apologies). And the last few days, a little thought has been creeping in to my head and a voice somewhere has been talking about starting to feel comfortable and settled. Which is nice, really. And for so long, I was finding my new life here so madly challenging that I needed lots of support and encouragement (of which I am very grateful for, thank you friends), it seems nice to stand still a little bit and enjoy things. I manage okay at work (I mean, it's still hard but I'm not TERRIBLE at it anymore), I live in an amazing house and we have kids knocking on our door and a baby running around and people coming to stay for some extra love and TLC and youth group is gathering kids weekly and we started a girls group and these girls come every week and learn about cool stuff like respecting themselves and looking after each other and I am a vegetarian now and I've got my finances more in order and my regular giving and friends here and people to hang out with and......suddenly, it feels like I'm not taking quite so many risks anymore.

A friend has just given up his lovely, successful life here and sold his stuff off and moved to another country to work with sex workers and drug addicts because he met Jesus and it seemed like he should actually take Jesus seriously about what He said in the Bible. And at Church they're talking about building your foundations on Him and not getting seduced by the world. And my manager at work just quit her job because she felt God calling her in to something new. And I keep thinking about risks and adventure and new things and how I feel closest to God when I'm scared and I can't do this alone and when I'm close to the lonely and the sad and the dispossessed. And I don't want to be stuck here- happy and comfortable and self-satisfied because I'm giving a BIT of my money away and I'm kind of opening my home and I did what God asked me a YEAR ago. I don't want to stop. i don't want to stand still. I want to keep stripping it away and getting closer to God.

So, come on! What next? Thank you for loving me and comforting me when this was hard but don't let me rest here. Challenge me! C'mon, challenge me! What else is God saying? It's not about DOING stuff, I know. But I feel reckless and excited because I feel like God wants more and more and that we shouldn't stop because we feel like we've given enough of ourselves away. And the seasons keep changing and it's Autumn already and a year has passed and I feel ike the rich young man saying "yes, I've done that, like you asked...what else?". So...challenge me; talk to me about God, about risks, about taking things a step further, about making irrational decisions and doing the mental, weird things that God calls us to do to redistribute wealth and make flowers from concrete and dancing from crying and insane dreams where there was once only mediocrity and staying still.

Urban outfitters, street parties and 'Generation X'

When I can't sleep or I'm thinking too much about things, I have certain "comfort" books I pull out- they're typically short (I can read them in a few hours), easy to read (sometimes trashy), I've probably read them upwards of five times (so sometimes it's more like a mix of reciting and skim-reading really) and for various reasons they comfort me (I would be baring my soul a little too much if I told you what they were and why they comforted me. Ask me in real life or something.)

So, last night, I pulled out 'Generation X: Tales for an Accelerated Culture'- Douglas Coupland's 1990's novel about a group of disaffected twenty-somethings that kind of drop out of society and form their own community. They are fed up of consumerism and the rat-race and their dysfunctional families and the media and expectations and dating and being in their twenties and being a target market and sitting at a computer all day and trying to conform and being the same but trying to look different-but-not-too-different. So, Andy, Dag and Clare move in to these faceless bungalows and sort of drop out of life. They get "McJobs", with low-pay and no commitment and they share their lives with each other and they tell each other stories- funny stories and sad stories and stories about themselves and stories about made up people and made up towns and stories about nuclear war and stories about their fears and stories about falling in love. And they try to make sense of their anxieties and their frailties and their hearts.

Why is it one of my comfort books? I don't know. I like the stories, I like the way it's written, I like the characters and I guess that what it was criticising chimed with me. As a Christian, I don't want to buy in to the greed and the lust (for money and for bodies and for things) that characterises my generation (which is admittedly a little younger than the Gen X gang). I like the idea of dropping out of that kind of society. I like the idea of telling stories to make sense of things. I like the idea of your friends and those around you becoming like your family and inviting people in to that to combat the loneliness and the feeling of being disconnected.

But last night, it didn't comfort me. It made me worried and a bit lost. And then it made me annoyed at things and at myself. It made me think about twenty-something Christians, like me, who see something wrong with the way our world is. And like Clare and Dag and Andy, we sort of drop out of the world and create these hip little communities that are comforting but a little bit cliquey and we listen to good music and dress cool and read Rob Bell and are sarcastic and ironic and cool and we shop at Urban Outfitters. And I got scared because I think I might have been making the Bible in to the stories they tell to each other, recognising the counter-culturalness and the upsidedown-ness of Jesus' stories, seeing how post-modern and beautiful and eclectic they are but just telling them to each other, over and over, saying "yes, we got it right. yes, the rat race isn't for us. yes, capitalism sucks. yes, we aren't the rich", not declaring them to the people the stories could transform, just telling them, over and over, to each other. And please hear me, the stories of the Bible ARE beautiful and good news and we should keep telling them to each other to encourage and change each other but maybe we should tell them to other people too. Maybe we should invite other people in to our communities- even if they aren't indie or they aren't funny and if they don't like foreign films or read the Guardian.

Maybe I haven't explained this well. Maybe it's offensive (mostly to myself, I think). I just realised for a long time that I LIKE a lot of the disadvantaged areas, but only when they're cool and they have good street art and cool art spaces and street parties in summer and only when skinny jeans outweigh drug users and sex workers and the homeless. And because it's actually cool to be anti-consumerism and anti-war and politically aware. I think I've forgotten the transformative power of Jesus and just kept talking about how cool and counter-cultural He is. And even then, only to my friends and to people like me.

The town mouse and the country mouse- or thoughts on exciting news.

I want to tell you (I want to tell the world!) about some exciting stuff going on at the moment. It struck me that I make a massive fuss about the hard things and the sad things and the confusing things but say very little about the cool things- and this is very cool!

Okay, so, the girls I live with have wanted to move to an area of Bristol (Called Barton Hill) for a long time now because that's where they (and now I) do youth work on a Friday and because it's an exciting area and because well, we feel an undeniable and unexplainable pull to this area, despite the fact that it's a little run down (not in a cool, Brixton-y way either) and it isn't really an area that people are fighting to move in to. And we've long (separately and corporately) dreamt of having a house big enough to be hospitable- where we could have a room or two for friends and people who need to crash somewhere to come and stay, a kitchen big enough to have people over to eat with us and just space to make it a bit of a haven. But the thing is, there aren't really any houses with more than two or three rooms in this area, because it's mostly small council houses (with long waiting lists) and high rise flats. So, we've been living in a little (but lovely) house in Easton- where the girls have let me live with them for the last six months and kept looking out for houses. And we've kept dreaming and praying about some place to live. My housemate painted a picture, out of nowhere really, of high rise flats with flowers growing up around them, taking it over and bringing beauty in to a grey area. But nothing seemed to come along.

But, there's this beautiful big 18Th century vicarage with a huge walled garden right at the heart of Barton Hill, about a minute's walk from the church we do youth club at and exactly in the area we wanted to move in to. And, my housemate had this idea lodged in her head that this was the place we'd live. And after loads of really weird God-coincidences, we decided to see what the score is and email the diocese to see who lived there (we knew the vicar of the church it was originally attached to didn't live there anymore). They emailed back that a charity called "Earth Abbey" was taking it so that they could start a community project in the garden (which is a third of an acre- a huge garden, especially in this area. We were a bit gutted because we really wanted to live there and make it a bit of a hub for the community, somewhere for the kids from youth group to hang out etc but the diocese said the charity were having an open meeting about it, so (slightly grudgingly) my housemates attended, if only to show that they weren't being resentful...

So, it turned out at the meeting, that they needed four people to live in the house. The catch was that they wanted people who cared about the area, who would be happy for the garden to be used as a project for the community and who were sold out on the idea of being hospitable and generous with the house. And after a few exciting meetings, they gave us the house! (well, we rent it but you know what I mean!)

So, a few months down the line, here we are! We moved in today and the house is beautiful- we have a spare room for people to stay and a massive kitchen with tables to seat loads of people and a beautiful, beautiful garden. The whole thing has been a miracle- promised to us in dreams and prophecies and even visions painted more than a year ago. And the view form the house is the smae as the view painted in the picture- before we'd even been to the house or the garden! And the garden will be used for kids that don't have a garden to come and run around in, with a tree house and a big swing. And the charity, Earth Abbey (a bunch of amazing people), will start planting things and invite local people to come and learn how to garden and grow fruit and veg. And asylum seekers and refugees, the dispossessed, (of whom there are many in this area), can have some land that is theirs to grow things in, that can belong to them. And the garden is going to have a kitchen built outside in it, so that people can learn how to cook with fresh fruit and veg, in season. And people like me, city kids, can learn what it's like to live more in harmony with the earth- learning how seasons change and things grow and God provides abundance for us. And maybe, flowers will start to grow and bring colour to the grey, just like in that picture my housemate painted.

So, this is a happy post, and a grateful one and an excited one. My posts are often about the hard things, and I'm sorry for that- but I want to be honest and write about what I'm grappling with- but I also want to share the happy things- the miracles and the provisions and the gifts and the extravagance that we have in our life. Hard things may come but this is a story about fun and joy and flowers and promises and I hope you're as excited as me!

Thoughts on Love- or What Shane Clairborne doesn't tell you.

About 4 years ago at Spring Harvest I went to see a guy called Shane Clairborne speak. What he said, and what he wrote about in his book "The Irresistible Revolution", really clicked with me. I felt like he summed up and expressed and was actually living out what I think Christianity should look like today, what I want my life to look like but am a little bit too attached to money, clothes and I-D magazine to manage. He talks about the bits of the gospels that other people leave out, the bits that challenge and inspire me and frighten me- about giving away what you have, about not being attached to possessions and property, about being counter-cultural, about being anti-war and about loving those that society rejects. It's beautiful stuff. There are stories about caring for people- the homeless, the destitute, the chronically poor, the dying, the unwashed, the addicted- and about how he encounters Jesus in these people and loves them and sees lives changed and people come to know God and live a fuller life.

I've been trying to see what this looks like more and more in my life, not that I'm "there" yet and not that I've got my stuff together- I haven't. But I'm writing this at 4am in the office at work because I am on a night shift and I can't sleep because one of the residents has gone missing- she walked out yesterday, leaving her baby (who she loved SO much), calling up old acquaintances and going out to score drugs. She had been doing so well, three months clean, a beautiful little baby girl and just starting to really engage with a new, hopeful life- she was genuinely one of the best mothers I have ever seen and she had just started going to church and was planning to go to college. But she walked out, abandoning her little one (who has been taken straight in to care)because she couldn't take it and she really, really wanted to use. I am so gutted, I was her key worker and we spent a ot of time together and I really, really cared for her and I prayed for her and I really tried to love her and treat her with compassion and love and respect. Apparently, when she left, she was crying and said that we couldn't have done anything else to help, that we were perfect, that she loved us.

And this is the last straw in a few weeks for me of things going really wrong- a lot of sadness and mistakes and walking away- things going wrong and sleepless nights. My life, my personal life, is pretty a-okay- it's the lives of those I love that are spinning out of control. And I am wondering if when people say "Lord, break my heart for the poor, the lost, the outcasts" they would mean it, if they knew it felt like this- disappointment, anger, hurt, rejection, sadness, despair. Babies left alone, hours and hours of meticulous love and care thrown away, all my energy spent. I know about the success stories, I'm inspired by them and I know they are reality- that hope comes, that people are saved, that addictions are overcome- but what about the heartbreak and the not-yets and the refusals of help and the being shouted at and the hit where it hurts? Please hear that I am not being cynical, I want to spend my life on this, I do, I just want people to be real about it. And I am left here thinking about the editing that goes in to Christian books. Did Mother Teresa ever break down, was the sadness ever too much? Did Shane Clairborne ever have his heartbroken when someone went back to drugs? Does Rob Bell ever invest his life in someone that walks away?

And then somewhere in the back of my mind, I see a man looking over a city and crying for it, because he loved the people that lived there so much and it broke his heart and he would have gathered them together like a mother, safe with him but they walked away (Matthew ch23). And I see a Father waiting at the gates every night, squinting down the road to see if his kid is coming home, waiting with love even though he took all his money and squandered it on bad things, heartbroken but eager for his sons return. And I see myself, throwing everything away, time and time again, and being welcomed home time and time again. And I think I understand a little bit more.....