It’s not about politics or censorship – it’s about neighbor love, and we’re doing it wrong.
Ah, October. The leaves are changing, the wind is blowing, pumpkin spice lattes are back at Starbucks, and all around the world writers are frantically putting off planning for the novels they hope to write in November.
A group of high school students from Lake Avenue Church has embarked on a weeklong exploration and investigation of California and US history of race relations. We’ve spent the last few days in Oakland and San Francisco – some highlights include discussion of the Black Panther Party and police brutality, genocide of Native American groups (literal and cultural), migrant labor and abuse of Latinx workers, and Asian American heritage (immigration through Angel Island and yellow peril, and then today’s “model minority” phenomenon).
Finals are over and my summer class at HoneyRock doesn’t start for another week, so I’ve road tripped out to Michigan to visit some family. Exactly one year ago I was in the exact same place – here, at my Aunt and Uncle’s in Michigan, waiting for HoneyRock to start. Except last year, this time, I really wanted to die, and this year I really want to live.
I am a Christian. And I am a feminist. I am usually identified by one or the other, depending on what makes me the outlier; when I was in high school I was recognized more strongly by my Christian identity, but at Wheaton I am predominantly recognized by my feminism. And yet all along I have been, and still am, a Christian feminist; together and at once. Standing in the gap between the two is one of the hardest things I do, but I think it is also one of the most important.
I’ve been back to school after Spring Break for a week now, and have been ruminating over some thoughts from my time off. I spent the break at home, in an unusually rainy Southern California catching up with friends and family. Being home meant singing my usual, “The fun has arrived!” line (my best impersonation of Turk from Tarzan) as I saunter into Bible study. It meant cozying up with a good book and a big mug of Mexican hot chocolate on one of Zona Rosa’s upstairs couches. It meant In-N-Out and afternoons spent writing at Starbucks, Panera, Corner Bakery, or the floor of my best friend’s apartment. It also meant a lot of those questions – “What’s your major?” and “Do you have a job?” and “So, are you dating anyone?”
Q: Who are you? What is this?
A: I’m Ellie! Nice to meet you. At the time of writing this, I’m in my second semester of my second year of college. This is a thing called a blog. I’m going to write stuff on it. Maybe it will be good, maybe not. Stay tuned.