Though it is my first social media love, Facebook is a place I tend to avoid unless I am at the absolute height of boredom, or I need to wish someone a happy birthday. Scrolls through my newsfeed tend to produce copious “OMG this is amazing” posts, exclamation point-littered proclamations of good news, wedding/engagement/baby announcements, and of course, the awkwardness of updates from people I haven’t spoken to in ages, but don’t have the heart to unfriend.
What seems to be a newer phenomenon in my feed, however, is the Facebook Preacher. As we’ve gotten older, many people on my friend list have either recently found God, grown stronger in their faith, or made a conscious decision to get their acts together and begin living on the straight and narrow for the Lord. Gold star for them. What I’m not here for, though, are the seemingly endless fire and brimstone, Bible-thumping posts that come from many of them, specifically from Christian women, in regards to sex and sexuality.
One woman posted a diatribe–laced with words in all-caps for emphasis, of course–about her disgust with Rihanna’s “Pour It Up” video, because what Rihanna was doing was only to be viewed by a woman’s husband. She went on to explain that this applies to ALL (caps lock power!) women, whose bodies first belong to God, and then to their husbands. Thanks for the memo, sis. I’m not sure how the Good Lord feels about watching a video that is essentially soft-core porn as a premise for sharing religious views, but y’all can talk that out.
In a similar vein, the satirical “How To Twerk” video was almost inescapable on my feed at one point, as woman after woman posted it as “perfect” and “must watch”. In it, the creator suggests that women who dance suggestively lack class and self-worth, do not want to be seen as people, and deserve disrespect or a lack of commitment. And of course, she reminds us to keep those legs closed, because she did, and now has a husband to “drop it like it’s hot” for. Recently, a friend shared to the feed–with disgust–a Christian woman’s take on “suggestive” dress, namely, yoga pants, and encouraged women to take more responsibility for the lust they can create in men, and their subsequent lust-driven actions (oh hey, rape culture!).
I was personally quite tickled by this gem, which garnered thirty-some likes, and many an “Amen”:
Another variation, written in a status, replaced “visitor’s center” with “amusement park”, and reminded women that “ride passes” shouldn’t be given out until after a wedding. Ermagerd, so many clevers. Other women, however, take a pseudo-diplomatic approach, reminding us that at one time, they too were lecherous trollops, so if they can close their legs to premarital sex, and open their hearts to the love of Jesus, so can we.
You want to remain chaste and closed-legged, marvelous. But spending copious amounts of time typing with fervor and piety in an attempt to shame fornicators (and their sympathizers, because those apparently exist) into purity is obnoxious and pointless. To borrow from the movie Friday’s great philosopher, Smokey: Don’t worry about what the f*ck I be doin.