Who Carries your Wet Wipes? Early morning ramblings on sexism in theology.

I missed an assignment for class this week and had to ask for an extension. I don’t think I’ve ever asked for an extension, even in seminary when I had a baby at the end of spring semester I got all of my work done before I went into labor. The response from my (older white guy) professor was, “fine, but just this one time…,” as if he, or I, have any control on what the next 5-7 years of my life will look like. So, I’m up early to work on it and I’m still struggling to write a 3,000 word essay on hermeneutics (the process of interpretation) and it’s contribution to my proposed thesis. Which dead white guy will form the foundation for my thesis? Because, of course, every (legitimate) theology must rely on the philosophical wonderings of white men. Or rather, every theology must rely on published philosophical wonderings, and because of racism and sexism they are all written by white men. 

In 2023 I was part of a clergy retreat in Ireland, we met with a few people who were part of the development of the Good Friday Agreement and ongoing peace and reconciliation work. One man we met with talked about his work with Corrymeela and I honestly don’t remember much about it other than he also talked about baggage and boundaries. The baggage we carry into our work and the boundaries we need to establish so we don’t carry our work into our personal lives. Well intended, he told a story about walking on the beach with his daughter when they came across a dirty diaper. He implied that his intention was to leave it there, it wasn’t his trash, but his daughter insisted he pick it up and take it to a trash can. So he did. He carried it to the trash and afterwards he wiped off his hands using a wet-wipe from his wife’s purse. The moral of his story was that you have to be sure to wipe your hands clean from your work before you go home to your family. Don’t bring work home, don’t let work stress impact your time with your family. Fine. Important message. But in a room of 20 people, all thanking him for his words, I was stuck on the part where we wiped off his hands with a wipe from his wife’s bag. His wife who had the forethought to pack and carry around wet-wipes. While he’s standing there talking about the importance of boundaries, it was his wife who allowed him, who gave him the opportunity, to wipe his hands clean. It was his wife who, presumably, took care of their daughter while he went to work. I was in Ireland, but it was because Lu was home with Elli that I could go on this trip halfway around the world and listen to him talking about what great boundaries he created for himself without acknowledging that it was his wife who allowed him to clean his hands before he came home. I travel a quite a lot but I am only able to do that work because Lu will be home with Elli. (And my parents help a lot too.) I’m only able to work on a PhD because Lu, Elli, my family, and you allow me the time and flexibility to write and study.

I wonder about the wives of those dead white guy theologians. I wonder what they carried so their husbands could lay the foundation for theological thought? I wonder about their own philosophical wonderings. It would not be the first time a man published and got credit for his wife’s idea. I wonder about the women whose prophetic writings would never be published, never be read. How much holy wisdom have we missed out on because a women* needed an extension but dropped out of the program instead of facing shame from old white guys?

(*women, queer folx, People of Color, etc.)

We will gather this Sunday, May 3, at 4 pm at the church. I don’t exactly know what we’ll do yet, poetry, prayer, and check-ins for sure, we’ll figure out the rest.

Looking forward to seeing you.