Boys Scouts: A Lesson in Plurality?

Dear Joel,

Our family went out on a limb this year.

We let our oldest, who will be 13 soon, join a Boy Scout troop.

[Gasps among our progressive friends.]

It’s a Mormon Boy Scout troop.

[Even gaspier gasps!]

We’ve long been cautious about Boy Scouts, even choosing not to donate to the United Way because that organization dispersed funds to the Boy Scouts during years when Boy Scouts across the board wouldn’t permit gay boys or leaders from joining.

All the reasons we were cautious about Boy Scouts–the organization’s foundation as a response to white anxiety about white masculinity in a globalized world, the nationalism, the militarism, the redface rituals (And, yes, we went to the peer-reviewed literature for help here.)–were major reasons for our resistance. But, after a lot of thought and finding, through our research, that local leadership was really influential in the running of a troop, we found a troop that was a good fit for our son. The troop leader, a neighbor of ours, focused on outdoor survival skills, not selling popcorn. A scary experience he had as a young man of getting lost one winter night in the mountains of Utah convinced him of the need for young people to respect nature, and he was a gentle leader who pushed kids to exceed their own expectations about themselves while being smart about Utah’s wilderness.

We also found that the local troop was enthusiastic about allowing our son to participate in ways that he could adapt to our faith. He could participate without having to perform flag ceremonies, and we’d be skipping any rituals that troubled us. We got ample warning about whether any guest speaker might violate our religious values–even the police officer who came to the group to talk about online safety. Our son was encouraged to talk to about his faith freely and to be able to articulate ways in which our commitment to peacemaking shapes his experience in Scouts. While other faiths have badges for Boy Scouts–so a Mormon kid can earn his Duty to God badge for studying his faith, as can a Jewish child or a Muslim child or a child from all kinds of other faiths– Mennonites have been suspicious about the program and have no affiliation, which was a good opportunity for our son to forge his own path.

Though our son wasn’t the only non-LDS member of his troop (He was one of two), because the local stake sponsored the group and because stakes are neighborhood-based, he got to know boys in the neighborhood (and thus the LDS church) quickly and well. We’ve been so grateful for the opportunities scouting has provided: friendship, a religiously pluralistic setting where he can practice his faith among other people who respect religion, and some pretty serious camping and outdoor experience.


Above, a vintage photo of a Boy Scout looking off into the distance, his right hand over his eye brows as if to shield him from the sun’s glare.  

And now the LDS church has decided to end its relationship to Boy Scouts at the higher levels. While the LDS church has previously expressed concern about Boy Scouts’ acceptance of queer participants, the official reason is that the Scouting program for older boys isn’t meeting the needs of older boys. Instead, the LDS church will organize some kind of outdoor camping program on its own.

Given my initial reluctance and skepticism (and my continued ambivalence about some aspects of Scouting), I feel a surprising sadness about this. While our son could likely still participate, the new program is clearly going to be more LDS-oriented than even an LDS-sponsored Boy Scout troop is. It’s one more way that the new kid in town–one already not going to the LDS church–is cut out of relationships. I know that’s not the purpose of the decision, but it’s the result. And what is perhaps sadder for our family is that this particular way of getting to know our LDS neighbors has been so rewarding.

Part of me is saying, “Well, what did you think was going to happen? You got into the boat with religious conservatives! Of course it was going to sail this direction!” And part of me is feels like a hypocrite for being sad at the loss since these troops were never going to affirm queer kids–a deadly problem in Mormon communities–and we weren’t, even with our patient approach, going to persuade them otherwise, and so maybe I just shouldn’t have gotten involved at all. But I’m also grateful for the sadness, because it reminds me of how difficult these decisions should be.

Thanks for listening,



If you love someone, leave them alone–at least sometimes.

Dear Joel,

In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have trusted directions given by my six-year-old neighbor.

The little guy was over yesterday to play ping pong and Minecraft with my youngest, but he had to go home, he said, to help his father, a local contractor, prepare for a fireworks show.  I thought he said the show was that night, but maybe he didn’t and I just assumed it. In any case, I kept the little ones out past bedtime, loaded the van up with lawn chairs and water bottles, and showed up the the park at dusk to find just one other person in the parking lot.


Above, fireworks, which we will see maybe next week?

She was alone in her own minivan, doing something with her phone. My husband, irritated once again with my failure to double check details, insisted on asking her where the fireworks were if they weren’t here, like we thought they would be. Recognizing the situation for what it was, I begged him not to interrupt her, but my dear husband has that Midwestern sensibility that assumes everyone loves to be helpful just as much as you do, so he (to my horror) signaled for her to roll down her window. Unless I were fleeing from an attacker and wasn’t sure I could outrun him, I would never, ever interrupt a woman on her own.

She rolled down her window sheepishly. “Do you know where the fireworks are supposed to be?” he asked.

“No,” she admitted. “I’m just sitting here, playing a game on my phone.”

They both rolled up their windows; she returned to her game, and we left the park with a vanful of crying children. My husband noted that it was weird that this women was at the park, in her van, playing a game on her phone by herself.

I didn’t tell him, but of course I’ve been there, and I’m fairly sure that most mothers have been, too. Maybe it’s not Candy Crush or Clash Royale or That Dragon, Cancer. Maybe it’s Celebitchy or TMZ, or maybe it’s my two favorite Twitter feeds: Los Feliz Daycare (“Incident report: Helper Pat ‘stole Nola’s nose’ which led to an explosive, stevia-fueled “My Imaginary Body Is Still My Body” think piece.”) and KimKierkegaardashian (“Try on a high-waisted swimsuit. See if it conceals your despair.”) Maybe it’s FB stalking your high school crush, reassuring yourself that it could be so much worse: you could still be living in your hometown, raising children who look like that guy, who turned out so much less handsome than you thought he would, working a MLM scheme to subsidize your salary as a part-time receptionist at your in-laws’ drywall business. (If a review of that crush’s life outcomes doesn’t perk you up, just keep going down the list. You will eventually find someone who would have ruined your life more than the spouse you chose and the children he gave you.)

Hiding at the park is just one way to do it, but we do it all the time. We pick the long line at checkout. [Checker: “Ma’am, aisle 3 is open.” Me (not looking up from the People I’m not going to buy): “I’m fine. Just fine!”] We put the gas cap back on and walk the long way around the car before we get back in, just to avoid the chaos within for a few more seconds. We push the grocery cart back to cart corral slowly, and we pick up a few extra carts, floating in the parking lot, “to be a good citizen,” but let’s get real: those children won’t roast in the van if I take an extra 45 seconds in returning, and I can see them, safely buckled in, from where I am. We lock the bathroom door and turn on an app that sounds like a shower, then try on all our old lipsticks, remembering the occasions for which we bought each, none of which involved children.

Not in every family, but in many, fathers can hide in plain sight because, if Mother is around, children ask her first anyway. (Which reminds me of that joke: “All I want for Mother’s Day is for the children to remember that their father can get them a drink of milk, too.”) We are special and needed and very loved. And we are sometimes tired.

To the woman in the green van at Friendship Park last night at 9:15, who put her children in bed, then pretended to run out to pick up the forgotten gallon of milk so that any requests for another story or another glass of water or another bedtime song could be fulfilled by someone else: Your secret is safe with me. Play on.


***UPDATED to address the concern/condemnation (rising to the level that I “don’t deserve to have children”) that some folks have expressed about this post: I clearly love my family, as a review of my writing here and elsewhere indicates.

I also recognize that, broadly speaking, women do more of the work in a family than men do and that being married increases the amount of work a woman does and decreases the amount a man does. Women parent on average 2 hours, 10 minutes per day, while men average just one hour, 35 minutes per day. And though they work in paid employment for the same number of hours per week, working fathers have about three more hours per week of relaxation time (for fun, hobbies, or being left alone) than working mothers. While some families never fit this trend and most families probably deviate it from it in some ways at some times, it’s still the typical experience for women.

But to be clear: no, my having children didn’t actually ruin my life, though it did ruin my waistline, my shoe size, and, just this week, a spot on the carpet in the van where some contraband bubble gum found a home it doesn’t want to leave. All of that said, I miss them when they or I are away, I cherish even their grubby fingerprints on the glass in the  front door, and I like hanging out with them a lot, just as they like hanging out with me.

It’s just that sometimes even Betty Crocker wanted to pretend to be Marilyn Monroe. And there is no harm in pretending that for just a bit.

Attacks on Minority Rights in the Name of “the People” and God

Hi Joel,

Three unrelated apparently unrelated events have been swirling in my mind lately. Help me think through them?

First: The Texas State Supreme Court recently said that same-sex couples might be legally married in the state, but they don’t have a legal entitlement to the same benefits as same-sex couples. The all-Republican court was pressured by the state’s GOP to pick up the case, which centered on whether the city of Houston was right to grant spousal benefits to same-sex spouses of city employees if the couple was married out of state before same-sex marriage was legal there. Obergefell, the 2015 Supreme Court case that recognized the validity of same-sex marriages in all 50 states, should have easily answered this question, but here come folks from Texas Values, a Religious Right group, to weasily argue that

“The Supreme Court held … that the Constitution requires states to license and recognize same-sex marriages to the same extent that they license and recognize opposite-sex marriages, but it did not hold that states must provide the same publicly funded benefits to all married persons.

The Equal Protection Clause should take care of this, but Texas conservatives never like to miss an opportunity to whine about federal overreach, so here we are, with the poor conservatives of the Supreme Court going to have to decide if they can handle the pressure of siding with 14th Amendment.


Above, Jason Rapert, one of the worst state politicians in the US, stands in front of a Ten Commandments monument just installed at the capitol in Little Rock. TheIt’s

Second: Arkansas’ second-worst state politician, Jason Rapert (I leave the national award to Senator Tom Cotton.) made news this week when his beloved 10 Commandments, newly installed on the state capitol’s grounds, was smashed by a… well, I guess we’d call him a separation of church and state activist. Anyway, Rapert’s obnoxious desire to waste taxpayer money on the inevitable legal challenge to the display reminded me of a comment he made two years ago at about this time in response to the just-delivered Obergefell decision. On Facebook, he said,

“I urge every God fearing American to pray for our nation on their knees, but to rise to their feet in opposition of those who have gone too far by imposing unjust laws against our will.”

Not a theologian, a law scholar, or a historian by training or talent, he compared his cause to the American Revolution and the Civil Rights movement. When a more informed citizen reminded him that, uh, actually, that’s not how it works with rights, he struck back by saying that “We the majority, grant you rights by choice.”Screen Shot 2017-07-02 at 12.25.46 AM

Third: Among anti-Muslim Christians there circulates the argument that Muslims do not have a First Amendment right to practice Islam in the US. One angle in this argument, exhibited by this awful speech that Rebecca Bynum gave to the Memphis chapter of ACT for America, says that Islam is not a religion but a political ideology, and therefore it is not protected by the First Amendment. This is also sometimes used to justify a ban on entrance by Muslim immigrants and refugees to the US. A second angle says that it doesn’t matter if Islam is a religion because Muslims aren’t free to practice it in the US anyway since the right to the free exercise of religion, as articulated in the First Amendment, is derived from “our Creator”–that is, the Judeo-Christian (but NOT Judeo-Christian-Islamic) deity. Explains Jason Rapert’s spiritual mentor former Alabama Supreme Court Justice Roy Moore:

“Muhammad didn’t create us. It’s the God of the Holy Scriptures.”

(Moore, by the way, was kicked off the bench for being a preening fool. He’s led efforts to install the 10 Commandments in Alabama courthouses, fought hard against recognizing the legality of same-sex marriage, and is generally an embarrassment to the intelligent people of Alabama. Oh, and he’s running for Senate now, and Christian media is reporting that he is in the lead.) The argument here is that–follow me closely through this slop–the right to practice (or not to practice) religion is only for Christians and Jews because they are the only people who recognize the authority of the God who gave them that right. Atheists have no right not be atheists because the right to be an atheist comes from a God atheists don’t believe in. Likewise for anyone who is not a Christian or Jew but who wants to practice religion.



On top, former Alabama Supreme Court Justice Roy Moore, standing with a Ten Commandment monument. Below, one of his supporters, part of a traveling anti-LGBT protest group, stands outside the Alabama Supreme Court courthouse last year. Inside, the court was hearing arguments about whether Moore should be booted off the court–a second time–for ethical violations. (Answer: Yes.)

These not-entirely-unrelated instances (all in the South, all efforts led by white Republican men) have been ringing in my head for a few days now, and what I see bringing them together is that the rights of minorities–same-sex couples and religious minorities–are consistently seen as in conflict with democracy rather than central to it. (But I also suspect that they don’t much care about the “will of the people.” Rapert, for example, is fighting Arkansas’ Amendment 6, legalizing medical marijuana, despite popular support for it.)

Am I imagining it?







What if Donald Trump Was a Good Guy?

Hey Rebecca:

I’ve been wondering lately: What would the world be like if Donald Trump was a good guy and not a man of such transparently ill character whose corruption and classlessness infects all around him?

Screen Shot 2017-07-13 at 6.40.50 PM.png

A pause: I don’t like attributing character flaws to people with whom I disagree. Usually, they’re good — or good enough — people with different opinions! But with Trump, the crappiness of his character is key to the critique of him. It’s unavoidable.

Let’s apply the question to this week’s big scandal — the newly reported meeting between Donald Trump Jr. and a Russian lawyer he thought might provide Russian government dirt on Hillary Clinton during the 2016 campaign.

If the people around Donald Trump had been both smart and patriotic, we wouldn’t be waking up this week to news that his son met with a Russian lawyer to dig up “dirt” in Hillary Clinton. We would’ve found out last summer — and it might’ve provided the boost he needed to win the presidency.

News of Trump Jr.’s meeting broke this week, adding to the appearance of a White House under siege and a legal noose tightening around the president’s inner circle. All of this — this part of the scandal, anyway — could’ve been avoided if the Trump campaign had just done two things:

• Called the FBI.

• Held a big press conference announcing why they’d called the FBI.

This approach would’ve had two advantages. It would’ve been the right thing to do. And it would’ve helped Trump look like a real American leader — someone selfless enough to sacrifice a possible advantage if taking that advantage meant doing dirty business with the country’s rivals.

There was precedent for this: Back in 2000, Al Gore’s campaign received a tape showing George W. Bush’s debate preparations — and promptly sent it along to federal investigators.

”I looked at it, and I said, ‘I shouldn’t have this and shouldn’t be looking at this,”’ said former Rep. Tom Downey, the Gore adviser who received the tape. ”I knew that it was serious stuff.”

Gore, of course, ended up narrowly losing the presidency. Trump narrowly won.

But imagine what our politics might look like right now if the Trump campaign called the FBI then held the press conference. Imagine the campaign bounce he might’ve received if he’d made a statement like, say, this:

“The Russians tried to give us damaging info on our opponent but even though that might have given us an advantage, it wouldn’t be the right thing to do for our country. We are all Americans.”

Trump still could’ve railed against “Crooked Hillary.” He still could’ve charged that her email setup as Secretary of State had made America less secure. But he could’ve put questions of collusion with Russia largely to rest, and — for once — maybe even made himself look a little more like a statesman instead of a two-bit schemer. “More in sadness than in anger” would’ve been a good look for a politician attempting to appeal to moderates.

That would’ve taken some imagination, though. That would’ve taken some moral fitness — or the smarts to try to appear fit once in awhile.

Instead, the Trump campaign played to character, choosing to pursue the dumb, obvious, “let’s screw our enemies” power move. And when that didn’t work, he went public asking the Russians to release any info they had on his opponent.

The trouble with Donald Trump’s campaign and presidency, from the beginning, has been his inability to get out of his own way. His determination to avenge slights and be in “control” — but only in the most rudimentary fashion — led him to fire James Comey, to attack the “Morning Joe” crew, to slam veterans like John McCain and to pick fights with Rosie O’Donnell, to get his pound of flesh but to almost always get it in a fashion that leaves his presidency as collateral damage.

Given the choice between blunt-force trauma and the smart, silent shiv — or merely doing the right thing and being nice people — Trump and his minions choose blunt force every time. I’m not sure they’re aware that different possibilities exist.

If Trump had tried to be a bigger, better man, he might right now have a bigger, better presidency. All he and his campaign had to do was the right thing. They didn’t. Of course they didn’t.

With disgust, Joel

Adoring the Adorers of the Blood of Christ


I’m kind of in love with the Adorers of the Blood of Christ right now. A group of these sisters in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania (my hometown) have built an outdoor chapel in a rural area of West Hempfield township, right in the middle of some of the richest agricultural soil in the world. The chapel is a space where people can contemplate nature and our relationship to it. It aligns with the sisters’ religious commitment to stewarding the earth.*

And it’s right in the path of the proposed Atlantic Sunrise pipeline.

Above, the Adorers of the Blood of Christ dedicate their chapel. 

Last week, a federal judge said that the pipeline company, Williams Natural Gas, has every right to use eminent domain law to seize the land. (Hello? Where are the “Fifth Amendment people”?)

The pipeline is not a public good. It is a private business–one that paid $2.4 million in fines in the last decade for environmental problems that resulted from their poor practices and TWO HUNDRED AND NINETY MILLION DOLLARS in fines for misleading investors about the sorry state of its finances.

Judge Jeffrey Schmehl thinks that Pennsylvanians should be forced to give up privately owned land to a private, for-profit, publicly traded company that can’t even do its job (carrying gas safely) or manage its own finances. Stockholders get the profit, and Pennsylvanians take the important risk: their land and health.

No matter your religion, no matter your feelings about pipelines, you gotta know that something is wrong here. And you should probably also know that Donald Trump is a big supporter of using eminent domain to seize land for use by private companies. 

Claims to sacred space have not protected Native Americans from the seizure of their land, of course, and they may not protect the Adorers. But these women are doing what all people with privilege should do: insert it in the way of injustice.


*I know that agriculture isn’t exactly stewardship. But we’re not choosing between agriculture and wilderness here but between agriculture and gas. And leaks anywhere on the path (see below) endanger nature.

Image result for path of the atlantic sunrise pipeline

Kyle Smith and “Women’s Movies”

Hi Joel,

You are optimistic to engage uninformed, untalented men who have undeserved access to public audiences, as they explain women’s problems to you. Multiply that feeling by slightly more than half the US population and extrapolate over a life span of, on average, 81 years, and you get the sense of why so many women are so deeply frustrated.

You are right, of course, in your critique of National Review Online‘s Smith’s assessment of why the Bechdel test, which is a very basic measure of whether a film gives any consideration to women apart from their use by men characters, is silly. Smith’s argument (I’m being generous with that term) is so bad that you wonder if he was actually trying or if he, like so many other mediocre men, is coasting on snideness alone. As a “critic-at-large”(Rich Lowry, if you are reading this, please, please find someone with an ounce of sensitivity as a viewer or talent as a writer to replace Smith. He’s so remarkably unskilled that it’s not even fun to argue against him.), Smith teaches his readers nothing about film or music (Illustrative quotation: “There isn’t a lot to argue about when it comes to music: Either you like it or you don’t.”); as a politics writer posing as a critic, he’s as uninformed as he is unbearable.

A brief summary of his recent writing about gender and film:

There is plenty of overwrought (sometimes nearly hysterical) writing about Hillary Clinton, Chelsea Clinton, Kathy Griffin, Katy Perry, Lena Dunham, and Elizabeth Banks, but they all amount to the same thing: Smith knows nothing about women, fictive or real.

But back to the matter at hand: Smith’s dunderheaded attempt to take-down the Bechdel test. I’ll add to your fine argument these four points:

  1. Smith assumes that in order for a movie to include an on-screen moment between women characters who are doing something other than talking about men, that movie must be written by a woman. This also assumes that men cannot write women. While this is too often true and is entirely true of Smith, it’s not required. We might ask more of our screenwriters who are men.
  2. It assumes that stories centered on men are more worthy of telling than stories centered on women. (Films need heroes! seems to be Smith’s line of thinking.) Of course, women are heroes–but, more than that, stories with nuance, driven by character, are also worth telling. They often require more talent to tell, but that just means we need to (See point 1.) demand more of our movie makers.
  3. Smith’s argument is factually incorrect. Not only do audiences love stories about women (from Gone with the Wind to Dirty Dancing to The Little Mermaid to Kill Bill to Bridesmaids to Hidden Figures), these films are, across genres, profitable. They make money, earn Oscars, and inspire Happy Meals toys.
  4. And to Smith’s argument that women should write fantasy novels that will brought to the screen if they want to watch them: has he not heard of JK Rowling, the first writer to become a billionaire based on her books? Not only is Rowling a woman, the real hero of the Harry Potter books is Hermione Granger.


Above, the real hero: Hermione Granger.

Which reminds me: next time we are tempted to read Smith’s commentary, let’s read Teen Vogue instead. 


The ‘Bechdel test’ doesn’t limit movies. It asks them to stop being so limited.

Dear Rebecca:

I’m shocked, shocked that a National Review writer has decided to take issue with the “Bechdel test.” The test, as I’m sure you know, is a very simple way to check if your movies have even a moment in them that isn’t dude oriented.

Here’s Wikipedia:

The Bechdel test asks whether a work of fiction features at least two women who talk to each other about something other than a man. The requirement that the two women must be named is sometimes added.

And here’s NRO’s Kyle Smith:

In the past few years, the Bechdel Test has begun popping up casually in reviews like a feminist Good Housekeeping Seal of approval. Take this appreciation last month of the 1992 film A League of Their Own, published by Katie Baker on the site The Ringer: “It is, in my possibly blinded by love but also correct opinion, one of the best sports movies there is. And it is an honest ode to women and sisters and friendships, with a story that breezes through the Bechdel test by the end of the opening scene.”

Hey, and you know what? Tom Selleck’s Matthew Quigley appears almost immediately in Quigley Down Under. Hurrah, this film breezes through the Cowboy Test by the end of the opening scene!

Neither of these two tests gives you any hint as to the worth of a film, and furthermore neither of them tells you anything about a film’s general feminist wokeness. It doesn’t even tell you whether the film is entirely about a woman.

A couple of observations:

•You know why the “Cowboy Test” is ridiculous? Because there have been a million fricking movies about cowboys. We actually have no need of further cowboy movies — though, admittedly, I’d watch one if a good one came along — because just about every permutation of the genre has been exhausted. The Bechdel test was invented, meanwhile, because such female-centric moments were relatively rare.

•Smith is right that the Bechdel test doesn’t tell you about the worth of a film or its feminist bona fides. Nobody makes those claims for it! (Check the video above for confirmation of this.) Instead, the underlying question is this: Does this movie contain a single moment that’s not all about the guys in it? It is the very minimum a movie can do, in other words, to put a female perspective onscreen.

• Which means that the Bechdel test doesn’t do much to constrain movie art: The art itself is pretty constrained — the movie business has increasingly been designed to appeal to and arouse the passions of teenage boys. To the degree female characters are designed to appeal to this demographic, it’s not often with their agency apart from men in mind. The Bechdel test was created because movies are so dude-oriented that getting such a moment was unexpected, to be noted.

Smith says the Bechdel test is irrelevant because women don’t make the kinds of movies that reap big box office. “Have a wander through the sci-fi and fantasy section of your local bookstore: How many of these books’ authors are female? Yet these are where the big movie ideas come from. If a woman wants the next Lord of the Rings–style franchise to pass the Bechdel Test, then a woman should come up with a story with as much earning potential as J. R. R. Tolkien’s.”

Which is … stupid. Tell the makers and viewers of Wonder Woman that they don’t like sci-fi adventure. For the love of god, tell my nerdy-ass wife — but give me a head start out of the room.

Hollywood discovers that there’s an audience for women-centric movies every couple of years, then promptly forgets it. Using that amnesia to justify the ongoing omission of women and women’s perspectives from our films isn’t just dumb — it’s clearly leaving a lot of money on the table. Conservatives, you’d think, might embrace the Bechdel test for this reason if for nothing else: It just might help them make a ton of cash from an underserved audience.

Sincerely, Joel