Review: "At the Root of This Longing" by Carol Lee Flinders

Spirituality is as old as human culture-- indeed, it is one of very few commonalities shared between all cultures in one form or another. Suppose you are a woman wishing to explore your spirituality. Suppose further that you are a feminist. What are your options?

Carol Flinders doesn't like the options. In her newest book, "At the Root of This Longing: Reconciling a Spiritual Hunger with a Feminist Thirst," she has astutely noticed that spirituality is one area around which feminism has tiptoed, with frustrating results for those feminist women who feel a need for spirituality in their lives. Flinders distinguishes spirituality from religion, the former being more personal and not requiring the structure of the latter. She does not identify herself as Christian, Jewish, Muslim, or any other such categorial name, speaking instead of a spirituality that transcends specific dogma, one that is personal for each woman. Even the agnostic and the atheist have thought about spiritual matters, if only to reject them. All women-- from feminists exploring spirituality to religious women unsure about feminism-- can learn from this book. I rate it a +.

Many feminists reject spirituality because it has been tainted by the misogynist dogma of so many religions. The culture we experience in the West is steeped in tenets of these androcentric faiths -- it is no wonder that feminists recoil from anything smacking of spirituality. But Flinders looks deeper than the patriarchal surface culture we experience: recognizing that spirituality is a profound human experience, she refuses to reject it entirely just because it has been used against women in recent history. Why, she asks, must we cut away this very fundamental portion of our humanity in order to embrace feminism? Feminism is, after all, about making women whole; surely we can find a way to reclaim spirituality within a feminist discourse instead of accepting the unpalatable choices we currently have-- namely, misogynist dogma or spiritual celibacy.

Flinders' book is a far cry from the "New Age" feminine spirituality that has cropped up lately. While the New Age movement celebrates "female qualities" such as peace and nurturance as superior to "male" ones (a simplistic inversion of the male-centered religions we see now), Flinders presents a genuine analysis of spirituality through the feminist lens. She outlines what specific qualities of modern (and primarily Western) religion have proved to be sticking points with feminists, and why. Through the visions of Julian of Norwich, the Indian tale of Draupadi, and some very personal anecdotes from her own life, she explores the complex relationship between spirituality, women, and the social roles men and women play in society. Her mental wanderings range widely over topics such as violence against women, girls' experiences as they enter adolescence, and the origins of patriarchal culture. The reader is not so much talked to as guided along the same path that Flinders herself walked in her process of reconciling feminism with spirituality. By the end of the book, author and reader have come full circle in an understanding of how the paths of these two movements are intertwined-- and how they coincide more often than they diverge.

The first section of the book is devoted to revealing the worth of spirituality in women's lives and to understanding why feminists tiptoe around the subject. A movement not known for shying away from tough questions, feminism nonetheless seems to be stuck in the "denial" phase regarding the sacred: "religion, and by extension spirituality, is harmful to women and therefore has no place in our lives. End of story."

Flinders helps us understand more clearly what is going on. She identifies four sticking points in traditional spiritual teachings that cannot help but rub feminists the wrong way:

Silence: Almost all spiritual paths require the acolyte to meditate or pray in silence. Silence is essential in the process of opening up an inner understanding and in exploring one's personal spirituality. And yet, no self-respecting feminist would accept such a tenet-- in Flinders' words, "that same quashing chorus has silenced women, excluding us so effectively from all avenues of discourse that ultimately it not only impaired our capacity to speak at all-- to say what we mean, without fear of consequence and in language that does not subvert our intentions-- but even lessened the ease with which we imagined what we might say if we thought we could... The need to find voice is at the core of feminist concerns today-- not merely at the literal level, but in the fullest sense." (p. 63). Accepting spiritual silence certainly seems like a giant step backwards for womankind.
Self-naughting: This term means subversion of the ego. It is the ability to put others before oneself, to avoid pride and boastful behavior, to act humbly and not put on airs. In spiritual teaching, this tenet does not imply "being a doormat," but many women view it with skepticism because they already are being doormats! That's the accepted female role-- complete subversion of the self. Feminists encourage women to develop their ego-- in a healthy, socially-aware manner-- not negate it, so self-naughting also seems like a step back into the traditional role that we are trying to remake as feminists.
Redirecting desires: Many spiritual teachings remind us that a source of pain in our lives is wanting too much-- too much money, or sex, or power, or fame. Giving up these desires and redirecting them toward spiritual learning is an important step in achieving inner harmony. But again, women have gotten altogether too much of this lesson already. "The dominant theme in feminist conversations about women and desire is the observation that because of cultural constructs of 'woman,' women are commonly estranged from their own desires-- from all their desires... Women have very powerful reasons for curbing most of their desires-- reasons that have nothing to do with morality or health or courtesy or, above all, with spiritual practice, but rather with the simple fear of ridicule... and ostracism.... Contemporary women are well aware of this imbalance and its unfairness and, whether they declare themselves feminists or not, are rejecting it." (p. 73).
Enclosure: "The literature of mysticism is shot through with images of enclosure." (p. 77). We see monks in their monestaries, congregations gathering in a church, morality bounded by strict commandments, and sexuality encased in ritual. This may be acceptable for defining a spiritual path and rules for its followers, but it is also the lot of women in general. "'Ours has been a history of confinement,' writes essayist Nancy Mairs, 'in the childbed, in the crinoline, in the kitchen, even (if all other safe harbors fail) in the asylum... But most have needed no turn of an iron key, no leather thong. We've known where we belong.'... Wherever gender is highly polarized, as it is in most traditional cultures, one runs into this dilemma: the very stength of purpose and sense of her own worth that would permit a woman to guard her own chastity are felt to be incompatible with what are regarded as core feminine qualities. Strength and vigilance are all his, softness and pliancy all hers. She must be enclosed, and he must have the only key." (pp. 78-79). Not suprisingly, feminists are less than eager to embrace the confinement which spirituality typically requires.

These four sticking points are serious. They get at the very heart of feminist discourse, and what it means to be a woman in a society that does not value women as self-actualized adults. Flinders makes an excellent point regarding these four tenets of spirituality: they are nearly the opposite of the rules men learn to live by. Men are encouraged to speak (and act), to think of themselves as important and deserving of rewards, to have strong desires which they pursue as goals, and to control others by defining what they are allowed to do (ie, by enclosing them). Therefore, following a spiritual path that requires silence, self-naughting, redirection of desires, and enclosure would be an arduous task for a man, testing his deepest ability to change himself, trying his commitment in a rigorous way.

And so it seems that most spiritual practices we have access to were, like so many other things, designed for men. No wonder feminism has essentially dropped all association with spirituality! But Flinders wants to dig deeper.

The second section of the book is about what we can do to bring feminism and spirituality back together. Flinders cites examples of grassroots feminine spirituality that have sprung up in response to the subtle (and sometimes not-so-subtle) misogynist values that still pervade our culture. Again and again, she shows ways that women (and some men) have turned spirituality into a woman-positive movement that counters the four "sticking points" listed above.

Number one on her list of concerns is the destruction of girls' self-confidence as they enter adolescence around age 12. You don't have to be a sociologist to see that "something happens" to girls at this age: they become silent, uninterested in school, and with each passing year, less self-confident. It's not a "teenage phase," it's the subtle misogyny we still carry in our culture. Girls grow up with the constant subliminal message that they are less important than boys, that they will not shape the culture they live in except by producing children, that their opinions do not really matter, and that they will accomplish less simply because they are girls. It's enough to make anyone silent and pessimistic.

Flinders imagines a spiritual revolution that will combat this destruction of half our children's psyches. Noting that other cultures have belief systems which value girls (not treat them as superior, but simply value them as humans), she encourages us to adapt their beliefs to our own culture. In a culture where women and men are anchored to woman-positive images through spirituality, patriarchy loses a lot of its clout. Women may have moved into the workplace, but we still get less basic respect than men, and Flinders sees this spiritual revolution as the key to changing our subtley but persistently misogynist cultural values.

Flinders' vision for the unfolding of this revolution is a bit vague in terms of details, but the implication is that it will proceed in a rather third-wave way: starting with grassroots efforts, it will "catch fire," and then spread unstoppably across the country (and why not the world?). At times I found myself wincing slightly at Flinders' decriptions of how this sort of activism works; it is clear that she doesn't have first-hand experience with movements that don't have a capital "M," but I admire her perception in identifying the growing trend for women to simply reject androcentric faith in favor of something they put together themselves with their own meaning.

I hope that Flinders' book will start women thinking about their spiritual lives in a more feminist way. Perhaps they will realize how artificial it is that we must choose feminism or spirituality, which will lead to tough questions directed at the androcentric faiths we see around us. If we indeed embark on a spiritual revolution, we won't follow the idealistic, enlightening, naturally-unfolding path implied in "At the Root of This Longing." But whatever the path, the revolution is worthy, and I hope those who read Flinders' book will think hard about how it relates to their own life, and what they can do to keep the flame of her ideas from going out.