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Over the last few months, there have been so many unwritten blog posts. They glide around like ghosts, and this post was almost one of the ghosts because who writes about their new year’s resolutions in February? (Chronically tardy people, that’s who. Which is a perfect description of me.)

Since my last (non-book review) post, I have turned 40. Jon planned a birthday trip for me in Michigan’s wine country, which was amazing and one of my favorite moments of 2018. I’ve read a lot—an odd combination of mysteries and nonfiction. I’ve started on a weight loss journey, and started an Instagram account to document it. I celebrated the new year in a jazz club in Detroit. And I have made resolutions, which I have procrastinated on sharing for approximately 8 weeks now. Here they are:

Resolution 1: Appreciate my body more, flaws and all.

I threw my shapewear in the trash on New Year’s Eve.

I was in a jazz club with my husband, perched stiffly on a bar stool due to my shapewear. I looked around the jazz club and there were women of all sizes wearing their sexiest clothes, and I was done being immobile in my dress due to fear that my fat rolls might be on display. So, I went into the bathroom and trashed my shapewear. And it was liberating.

I may not be at my ideal weight, but my body has always been good to me. My body is strong, and I’m rarely sick. My last book review on the blog (Pure by Laura Kay Klein) and my next planned book review (Hunger by Roxane Gay) both focus on body shame and moving past it. Because life is too short to be uncomfortable in your own skin.

Resolution 2: Do less around the house.

I spend most of my life focused on what I’ve left undone, whether it’s the bathrooms I haven’t cleaned or the phone call I haven’t made or the writing project I haven’t started. Something needs to go.

There are four able-bodied people in my house, and there is no reason that I should be responsible for the great majority of the cleaning.

Resolution 3: Try more independent restaurants in my town.

An unflattering thing about myself: I tend to be kind of grumpy about where I live. I moved to Canton five years ago, when I got married, and I was less than thrilled about leaving Ann Arbor. The suburbs are great if you enjoy SUVs the size of tanks, happy hour at Applebee’s, leisurely strolls through Hobby Lobby, and maximizing your Kohl’s Cash. (Disclosure: I have no idea what Kohl’s Cash is, and I plan to keep it that way.) I’m not that person, so the things I love about Canton are limited to my house, the library, and my gym.

I want to find in joy in the place where I live. Canton is not cool and neither am I, and that’s perfectly fine. But here is a stealthy cool thing about Canton: It’s diverse.

This is where the restaurants come in.

While Canton does have abundance of chain restaurants, there is also a lot of independent restaurants too. They are in strip meals and are generally nothing to look at, but given the high number of immigrants in Canton, they are authentic. Aside from the Indian restaurants closest to my house and a few sushi places I have frequented when Jon is out of town, I largely have not gone to these places. My husband has the most Midwestern palate of anyone I know, and this largely limits where we eat as a family, but going forward I am venturing out even if it means dining alone. And with each meal, I will experience something new about Canton.

Looking at all three of my resolutions, I think this year is about loving my life as it is. It’s definitely not a “burn it all down” year, but a year for contentment and happiness.

February Book Review Club: Pure: Inside the Evangelical Movement that Shamed a Generation of Young Women and How I Broke Free by Linda Kay Klein


Linda Kay Klein was raised within the evangelical culture during the purity movement. When she found herself too attracted to her high school boyfriend, she convinced herself that God wanted her to break up with him to show her devotion, as that was an easier concept to understand rather than that sexual attraction is normal and healthy. Just out of high school, she learned that her youth pastor had been a pedophile and a young girl in her youth group had been his victim, and Klein first begins to question purity culture. In early adulthood, she still finds herself bound to it. When she begins some sexual experimentation with her boyfriend, she obsessively takes pregnancy tests, even though she is still a virgin. Ultimately, her questioning led her to graduate studies where she wrote her thesis on white American evangelicalism’s gender and sexuality messaging for girls. It also led her to conduct interviews with women raised in purity culture about their experiences. Those interviews, coupled with her own experiences, became the book that is Pure. The interviewed women ranged in age from the early twenties to the early forties, and all are white evangelical females unless otherwise noted.

Pure is part of a greater backlash against purity culture that has been underway among current and former evangelicals. Even Josh Harris, author of the infamous I Kissed Dating Goodbye and golden boy of ‘90s evangelical circles, decided against continuing publication of his own defining book, which told an entire generation of evangelicals how to approach romance, marriage, and sex, even though he was a homeschooled 21-year-old when he wrote it. While Klein is not the first to point out the ill effects of the purity movement, she has possibly done it best by giving voice to many women and by explaining the psychological effects of the purity movement.

Klein explores the inconsistencies of purity culture, how girls are told if they just keep themselves pure and sexless before marriage, they will instantly enjoy a fulfilling sex life upon marrying, as that is God’s blessing upon upright young couples. One woman Klein interviews married very young, as she and her husband were eager to go to bed together. Having a strong sense of purity, they waited until they were at the altar to have their first kiss, a mortifying and very public experience that involved clanking teeth, only to find their total ignorance of sex kept them from having a satisfying sex life for several years. That is quite possibly the most extreme story in the book, but it is likely not uncommon among evangelical circles, given that even thinking about sex before marriage can be frowned upon, as thoughts are considered to be a reflection of the soul. With that type of expectation, for a “pure” couple to successfully have great sex on their wedding night, they would need to be a pair of prodigies.

Many of the stories are those you would expect to find in a book like this: One woman was raped by her brother, only to have her parents blame her for “enticing” her brother. There is a lot said of women being “stumbling blocks,” the classic cliche of the evangelical world, where women are blamed for the lustful thoughts of men. Klein points out this is a misinterpretation of scripture, as only one Biblical reference to stumbling blocks refers to sexual desire, and in that reference, it is the lustful eye that is described as the stumbling block, not the object of desire.

As someone who grew up in a fundamentalist church, I related to this book. Lately, I have been thinking of how my early religious upbringing has formed me. The best of me can easily be credited to my childhood church and to my parents. That is where I learned about service, community, and what it means to live selflessly. There are other things–critical thinking and social justice, for instance–I have had to learn for myself as an adult because they were notably not taught at church or at home. There is also damage. All of the trauma and sexual anxiety that Klein describes I recognize in my own life. There was also a spiritual trauma completely separate from the purity culture. As someone who is prone to doubt and genetically prone to anxiety, growing up in a church that regularly liked to share the bad news about hellfire was probably not the best for my mental health.

I do strongly recommend Pure. The obvious audience is those who have grown up in evangelical or fundamentalist homes, but I think this is relevant outside that subculture. Purity culture can be seen in gender-specific school dress codes. The belief that women are “stumbling blocks” to men is at the root of the Me Too “anxiety” that men can’t mentor women in the workplace because women are too distractingly sexy or because they are Eves who might falsely accuse them of sexual harassment.

FCC Notice: I bought my own copy.

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@Barrie Summy