You’re a religious belly dancer in a fundamentalist Baptist Church. (And, at one point, you’d also like to become Catholic.)
You’re dressed in a long pink gown. (And at one point, you’d like to go to a Catholic Church.
You’ve been assigned to a Catholic Church where every time a member of your family tries to talk to a woman who’s a “progressive,” you’ll be told, “No. They’re going to hell.”
You’ve got your hair and make-up done by Catholic sisters who take a year off between weddings. (And, at one point, you’d like to go to a Church in which every “progressive” woman is a Catholic.)
You have a Bible verse carved into your forehead that reads, “God and Mammon are one.”
(And, at one point, you want to get married. Not to anyone but to Jesus Christ.)
(And, at one point, you really, really want your life to end on the cross. To die in a way that is just not supposed to happen. Not in the way that is supposed to happen and is supposed to end in the way that is so beautiful and holy and beautiful. To die in a place that is neither paradise nor hell. To die in a place where everything is just right.)
For years, you had no idea what the hell you were actually doing. It was always a mystery to you. What did it all mean anyway? Why was doing it “good?” If all this was about God and Jesus, and it might have its place, why did it have to mean going to church all the time?
(You’ve been assigned to a Church that’s been in existence for a thousand times longer than your childhood friends have gone to church. Your parents know this and are worried that you’re going to get mad if your own children try to start a church of their own.)
Your family and friends are worried you might actually believe all of this — that you’re a fundamentalist, that you’re going to hell, that you’re doing all this to “save the world” with a Bible.
(You’re a fundamentalist Baptist Christian. Your family and friends believe you, because they do not care what you think. If you say anything else, they’re going to be forced to get off your back.)
One night you go to a party attended mostly by fundamentalist women. You know a lot
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