So all last weekend I was at an anti-racism analysis/training workshop (Damascus Road, if you're interested in details). It was:
-exhausting
-fascinating
-enlightening
-way more information than I have yet had time to process
-and sponsored/run by Mennonite Central Committee (among others).

This last was something I found particularly bizarre, since I have a number of issues with the broader Mennonite church, and it was very odd to be dismantling one -ism in a program run by an organization that I consider to be a perpetuator of others. (I will say, for the record, that I think MCC is better, as an organization, than MC USA, for example, but it's still all wrapped up in it. And a lot of the attendees come from MC USA churches.)

But this is causing me to put words to something that I have been vaguely aware of for a long time:

I do not know how to be a good Smithie when I'm in what-I-wouldn't-say-in-front-of-my-grandmother mode.

And S totally called me on it. My first reactions were justifications (Okay, I suppose that can be a gender-ambiguous name, but the main association in this country is usually female. Also, your fellow group member is definitely using female pronouns, which suggests to me that you're not out to your group (or have asked them not to out you to this group), and I'm supposed to pick up on it anyway? Etc). And as points, I do think they are pretty valid.

That doesn't change the root of this issue, though.
When I am in groups that I suspect or know to be more socially conservative, I am more socially conservative myself. I don't mean just in the not-being-stupid-and-getting-myself-in-trouble way. I make the composition of those groups more conservative, by the way I act, the way I dress, the way I present myself, what I don't say.
It's very easy to present myself as the modest, straight, mainstream-Christian (okay, mainstream-Mennonite, which is a} not the same thing and b} definitely an oxymoron), not-making-a-fuss girl, and keep my subversive thoughts inside my head. If I do it right, it doesn't require a lie -- it's just not telling the whole truth.

And I'm not saying that I lie. Not even to keep the peace with my grandparents will I lie outright. And I don't need to. In the situations I'm thinking of, it would never occur to most of these people to ever ask a question I need to answer with a lie in order to preserve the façade. I just sit in the corner with my knitting, and bring my WWII book instead of my sci-fi short stories, and chat about fibercrafts and cooking and gardening, and while I say I went to Smith, most of the people around here don't know what that means well enough to understand what I'm telling them.

I'm not saying that I'm looking for fights. I don't feel any particular need to argue with my grandmother, or with the Mennonite Church as a whole. But I wish I knew how not to mislay my Smithie hat when I put on my Mennonite bonnet.

None of the people I usually babble at seem to be online, so I'm going to babble about my response to Jo Walton's Farthing on lj instead.

. . . it's interesting to note that today's writer's block is about racism.

( Cut for sort-of general spoilers )

So a month ago, harp_of_israfel posted an entry bashing Advent (among other things - among talking about other things). I've been thinking about this all season. Because I love Advent. It may be my favorite liturgical season.

Advent is often described as being about waiting. And I suppose you can look at it that way. But I prefer the word anticipation. Also preparation. Waiting is something you do because you don't have anything better to do. Anticipation is something to be savored.

I think of Advent as a time of paring down, of slowing down, of focusing on the essentials. Hope. Peace. Love. Joy. Christ.
I like the Advent songs. They're distinct from Christmas songs, and while there are lots of obnoxious pop Christmas songs, there are many fewer obnoxious Advent songs. Advent songs tend to be a bit more reserved, and often draw from the Old Testament readings describing the coming of the Messiah. They're joyful, but in a different way than Christmas songs, and generally have absolutely gorgeous harmony. You just need to make sure that to sing them fast enough so that they don't drag.
And the Advent readings. The Isaiah readings are gorgeous pieces of poetry, even in translation (or maybe it's just that I'm inclined to hear Handel's Messiah whenever they are read aloud). And then there are the apocalyptic readings. I don't go to a particularly fire-and-brimstone church, so that "some shall be taken and some shall be left" sorts of readings are things that we really struggle with, which leads to interesting and thought-provoking sermons.

Perhaps I think of Advent as a sort of antidote to the secular celebrations of Christmas. I like the symbolism of Advent. It's not just that I'm fond of fire; there's something that really speaks to me about candles during the darkening months of December. A light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. Christmas Eve is the epitome of this for me, culminating in Stille Nacht as candles are lit around the room.

Perhaps later I will discuss why I found Christmas Eve this year unsatisfactory, and why the service yesterday served as a balm for my wounded sensibilities. Not at this particular moment. Do you people actually read when I babble about religion?

I am unpacked and my room is (mostly) clean. It only took a month-plus (admittedly a month that a) included a week and a half of me doing nothing because I'd just gotten my wisdom teeth out and b) was fairly hot, off and on, so moving boxes of stuff and working in my room was unfeasible). But I have now successfully absorbed an entire* dorm room worth of stuff into my already-full-of-stuff Philadelphia-home room**.

( Cut for lots of long babbling )

So I guess what I'm saying is, "High School Miriam, sometimes I feel like I don't know you at all. I'm pretty sure that I'm happier being now-me than I was being you, which I suppose is a good thing, at least from this end. I'm glad that I/we/you got back into writing. I may sometimes wonder a bit about your decisions, but you managed to pick a college where I had a marvelous four years, and I will say that you definitely had good taste in friends.


( footnotes on the above cut )