[Vision2020] Joan: not at all dangerous

[keely emerinemix]

I read this after I read Ed's screed on "real men" and "real women."  I was 
temted to respond to Ed, who told us that real women know they should not 
hold positions of authority, that real men must protect them and never cry 
-- a sign of weakness, Ed blusters.  I was appropriately revulsed, angry, 
and saddened.

Then I read this.  I know that it will feed Ed's ravenous vitriol, and that 
my own husband might be caught in the smorgasbord.  But what Joan wrote fed 
me, too, albeit in different ways.  Her analysis of Kirk "masculinity" 
strikes me as right on; I wish I could take credit for it.  They are future 
men in every sense, although I suppose that statement -- "future men" -- 
expresses certainty in what I can only hope for them -- the attainment of 
full, mature, Christian masculinity.  It will look absolutely nothing like 
Ed, or ToeKnee, or Doug Farris/Wilson/Jones, and a great deal like the 
historical Jesus.

You know -- the one who wept, who upheld and respected and encouraged women 
as equals, and who saved his verbal fire for the powerful, pompous and 
privileged.  Sorry, Ed.  If your Savior is a misanthropic blowhard, you've 
got the wrong one.

For those of you interested in Biblical feminism, even if just to see if 
such a thing exists, check out Christians for Biblical Equality at cbe.org.  
As we CBE'ers say, ". . . hey, Jesus started it!"

Yours in radical equality between the sexes,

keely


From: Joan Opyr <joanopyr at moscow.com>
To: Vision2020 Moscow <vision2020 at moscow.com>
Subject: Re: [Vision2020] Joan: not at all dangerous
Date: Sat, 13 May 2006 22:52:49 -0700

On May 13, 2006, at 6:53 AM, keely emerinemix wrote:

>Perhaps you noticed, Tony, that Joan's threat was conditioned on Heirdoug's 
>ever referring to her children in any way in any public forum, a privilege 
>he most certainly does not have and yet one he has a tendency to assume.   
>Your concern is for protecting Doug's genitals; hers is for protecting her 
>children.  Let's hope they're both safe so you can get back to obsessing 
>about whatever it is that gets you going today.
>
>By the way, Joan is not "man-hating."  She's quite fond of my husband, and 
>I applaud any friendship between my man and anyone who can discuss with him 
>the peculiar joys of the Honda 70 series trail bike, which relieves me from 
>ever having to repeat the embarrassment of assuming that the "70" refers to 
>the year in which it was built.
>
>Thank you, Joan.  And Tony, it's time to go wipe the foam from your mouth . 
>. .
>
>keely

Thank you, Keely and Chasuk, for your eloquent defenses.  As you can 
imagine, I don't give rat's fanny what Tony Simpson thinks; I care very much 
what you do.  I only want to add a couple of observations to what you've 
already said.  First and most important, you will note that I never make 
derogatory statements about the wives or children of Doug Farris, Dale 
Courtney, or Ed Cooper Swan.  They are not part of our "conversations."  I 
find such references to my own minor children deeply offensive.  DF, DC, and 
ECS know this, of course, but they have no shame -- a consequence, I think, 
of their collective lack of maturity.

Doug Wilson has written a book called 'Future Men.'  Perhaps some of you are 
familiar with it?  I've come to believe that there's an unintended double 
entendre in that title.  In my lengthy experience with the male members of 
the Kirk, all of the men are future men.  There's a sad lack of men, real 
adult men, in the here and now.  In the rarified atmosphere Wilson's 
Neverland, men play-act at being Oxford dons, or seminary students, or 
professors, poets, philosophers, theologians, great writers and great 
thinkers and, worst of all, jolly Victorian patriarchs.  They lay claim to 
authority and status, respect and power that they have not earned and do not 
deserve.  They lay claim to omniscience.  There is nothing that they do not 
pretend to know and know well, and they speak with all the blustering 
inerrancy of the precocious 14-year old.  Back when Doug Wilson started 
Logos School, he advertised a full classical curriculum.  At the time, he 
was taking Latin 101 at the University of Idaho.  This qualified him to 
teach Latin?  Of course!  Because Doug wanted to teach Latin, by God, he was 
qualified to teach Latin.  We should consider ourselves lucky he didn't 
settle on brain surgery.  Or amateur gynecology.

I like men qua men; I always have.  But when I say that, I mean that I like 
grown-up men.  I like men who are secure in themselves; men who are secure 
in the knowledge that recognizing women as equals is not a threat to their 
own masculinity.  Being a feminist is not about hating men; it's about 
respecting women.  Being a lesbian is not about hating men; it's about 
preferring women as sexual and life partners.  I count among my closest 
friends equal numbers of men and women.  I love my father-in-law, Don 
Huskey.  He has taught me more about what it means to be a strong man and a 
good parent than I could fit into a ten-volume encyclopedia.  He's a former 
Marine Corps captain and the first male feminist I ever had the privilege of 
meeting.  (I've met many more since.)  My brothers-in-law Johnny, Micah, and 
Lew are fine men, terrific fathers, and close friends.  I enjoy their 
company.  We share the same interests and hobbies.  (And, yes, we all laugh 
at fart jokes).

Keely's husband, Jeff, is a kind and gentle man with tremendous inner 
strength.  It emanates from him in waves.  I wouldn't hesitate to call on 
him in times of trouble.  I have remained very close to my high school 
"boyfriends," Brian and Dave and Boris.  Brother Carl Westberg is the 
brother I never had.  I don't hesitate to say that I adore him, or that he 
is one of the finest men I have ever known.  It is my honor to call him 
friend.  (Because he's Scandinavian, he'll be embarrassed to death when he 
reads this.  Sorry, Carl, but it's the truth.  You are a stellar man.)

The epigram at the beginning of my book is an old saying of my 
grandfather's:  Everything turns from sugar to shit.  I can't express what 
my grandfather mean to me.  He and I spent thirty-six years locked together 
in a mutual admiration society.  I thought he was the end-all, be-all, and 
he thought I was the bee's knees.  It was Ranny Watkins who taught me to 
stand up to bullies; to protect my children; and to fight like hell for 
them.  I make no apologies for that.  When I say to Doug Farris, "You may go 
this far but no farther," I mean it.  His dismemberment may only be 
figurative; it will be verbal, not literal.  But it will be a dismemberment. 
  I have a tongue like a machete and the will to use it.  Do not tempt me.

A few days ago, I emailed Doug Farris privately.  In light of Tony's 
juvenile frothing, I will now share that email with the list.  You'll find 
it below my signature.  Make of it what you will.  It sums up my sentiments 
exactly.

Joan Opyr/Auntie Establishment
www.joanopyr.com

From: Joan Opyr
To: Doug Farris
Subject: The root of your bitterness

What kids, Doug?  The kids I love.  The kids I care for.  The kids for whom 
I've been saving for college since the day they were born.  The kids who 
know me as a devoted stay-at-home mom.  The children of my heart and my 
soul.  There's more to family than biology, Doug.  Much, much more.  I'm 
sorry that you seem incapable of understanding that.  I'm sorry that you 
find it appropriate or even funny to be cruel to minor children who have 
never and would never do you or your children any harm.  I'm sorry you have 
so little in common with the Christ you say you worship.

I'm going to leave you alone now, Doug.  In truth, I feel sorry for you.  
Your world is so sadly small and circumscribed.  You seem to know nothing of 
charity, of generosity, or of kindness.  You seem to know nothing of love.  
You must feel so insecure, so alone, and so fundamentally empty.  Kicking 
you is like kicking the air.  You're a high wind with nothing to blow.

I'm doing you a mitzvah, Doug.  I'm forgiving you.  And now, I'll forget 
you.

Shalom,
Joan


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