Hypocrisy, Apologies + Modesty: Growing Up In Fundamentalism
{This is a recollection of my experiences at a fundamental baptist school from 1-12th grade. I would like to note: my home life was not the same. My parents were not fundamentalists.}
first day of 2nd grade
I have to be sort of careful what I say here. I like a few of these people. A few.
I will never forget the look on his face — beet red, so full of fury it looked like you could pop it with a pin — when he turned to me and said bluntly, “either it goes, or you go.” And I — a confused, zit faced, 13-year old girl whose mother didn’t let her out of her sight — just stared back blankly and replied, “ok.”
I would find out later that day that he was referring to my participation in a gang.
Yes, a gang.
You know, the groups of likeminded individuals who commit horrific crimes and shoot people. That kind of gang.
Looking back, it was an obvious conclusion I suppose. The night before this conversation, my girlfriend and I were stuck late at school and boredom got the best of us. We took out some paper and a Sharpie and made these signs with giant “W”s on them. We put them on various peoples lockers as a symbol that “we’ve been here” and we wanted to see if they could figure out it was us.
Can you imagine? This is the kind of shit we had to do to entertain ourselves as a freshman in a fundamental high school full of rules— and what’s even worse? We thought it was freaking hilarious. We laughed all night about it.
Until, of course, the morning came and the principal’s office sent our parents a letter warning them that the “W” gang symbol had come to our school. And their daughters …had brought it there.
I guess you could say — there was always the assumption of guilty until proven innocent. Especially if you were not one of the chosen ones — meaning your parents didn’t teach at the school or you didn’t attend the church there. And you were always treated with an unhealthy dose of skepticism.
my girlfriends and I wearing ridiculous homemade paper hats, a few months before I was accused of being in a gang
As I went home that night, dumbfounded and fearful of expulsion, I crafted a three-page letter to plead my case to the principal that I was worthy of staying at the school. Never did it cross my mind that I hadn’t done anything wrong— that THEY should be apologizing to me for making an absurd assumption that wasn’t even in the realm of possibility of being true.
And yet, I knew it was my job to apologize so I could stay.
So after an hour of tearfully reading through my letter — my parents were allowed to continue paying $3k to keep their 4.0 GPA—perfect—attendance—no—detentions—ever—non—gang—member daughter in that House of Rules.
I didn’t realize it back then — but this set up a very harmful pattern in my life.
This is just one of the few examples of what it meant to be seen as an “outcast.” There was also a warning once given to my best friend’s mother — that she should probably break up our friendship because I was friends with a another girl, who happened to be raised Catholic, and Lord only knows what kind of bad influence that could be.
I could go on for days.
Rules, Rules, and More Rules
No matter HOW much you followed the rules — if you weren’t an official “fundamental baptist” you were never approved of. You weren’t good enough and certainly not good enough to date —- or even like — anyone who was. There was someone I liked very much, for many years, and he liked me too— but we didn’t even attempt a relationship because it just wasn’t acceptable.
The feelings of “not enough” took a very long time to overcome.
Speaking of rules, let’s go over a few of the school rules:
No attending movie theaters (they actually made you and your parents SIGN a form). No listening to non-Christian music — but not just any Christian music, only the Christian music without a “beat.” No open toed shoes without nylons. No shirts below the collarbone. No skirts above the knee. No sleeveless shirts. No pants for women. No shorts for anyone. Men couldn’t have their hair touching their ears. No facial hair. Women couldn’t have unnatural colors in their hair. No tattoos or piercings other than earlobes (for women). You can only possess the King James Version of the Bible. No swearing, or even “Christian cuss words.” No denim except for when attending sports games. No tennis shoes. No dancing.
our “cheerleading uniforms” — turtlenecks and skirts below the knee, with shorts underneath
I’ve yet to find any of this in the Bible. All of this to try to please a God who states with such clarity “all your good works are like dirty rags.” (Isaiah 64:6)
It never was and still isn’t about good works, or following rules — to assume so is to miss the entire point of Jesus. So it makes you wonder — did they really misunderstand the Bible this badly, or were they just trying to please a bunch of random men who made up these rules and called it a church? A church which called our neighbors out from the pulpit for being an interracial couple the first time they visited. A church which allowed a man who impregnated a teenager to relocate to our school and become our soccer coach because they “dealt with it internally.” A church whose leader was put on the highest pedestal, only for it to be discovered years later he was participating in some rather immoral activities.
You could cut the hypocrisy with a knife.
Speaking of the opposite sex, that was a whole other set of rules to abide by:
No sitting next to the opposite sex without a foot between you. No touching. Cannot walk up the same stairway (my husband got detention for walking up the girls’ stairway during class, when no one was using it. Then he crumpled up the detention and got another detention for that.) Cannot sit on the bus next to each other. Guys and girls’ lockers on opposite ends of the halls.
Looking back, I’ve watched this brainwashing lead to a whole host of destructive mindsets in adulthood — emotional detachment, lack of affection, pornography addiction.
on our senior trip at Niagra Falls, ankle skirts and turtlenecks
Not only were the students expected to abide by the rules — so were their parents. My mother, a total savage who has never cared what anyone thought about her — was not so easily persuaded to change her way of life to please the overseers. As a middle schooler desperate to fit in and not draw any more negative attention, I found her confidence to be the bane of my existence. She marched her pants-wearing legs right into those parent-teacher conferences and it was utterly horrifying.
Years later, of course, I see how my mom’s actions taught me a tremendously valuable lesson.
So what did this 12 year experience leave me with?
It’s been 20 years since I graduated, and I’ve never really discussed how this experience affected me. I’ve only mentioned my school years in jest — yea, I went to this super strict school and was accused of being in a gang, haha. But I’ve never really grappled with what it did to me mentally. How it shaped my self esteem and overall world view. After all, I did spend the majority of my time there until 18.
The first and most superfluous observation is that I simply feel sad. I feel like I missed out on the normal high school experience. (I try to live it vicariously through movies) Everything that you think about in terms of school — we didn’t have. It felt like we were little robots walking around, getting detentions for our skirts being 1/4 an inch above our knees, and didn’t really get the luxury of being “kids.” There was no prom. There were no football games. There were no senior pranks. There was no dating. There were no awesome senior trip memories.
I remember being so scared of getting in trouble because this boy’s hand was so close to mine!
What’s truly bizarre, is that all of us were sharing this abnormal experience — that we didn’t even realize was abnormal at the time. Many of the students also went to the church associated with the school and they were never in a different environment. And somehow, despite the weird circumstances — we managed to forge great friendships. Although I will admit, the opposite sex friendships always felt “wrong.” But I do owe my very best, most lifelong friendship to this school — a girl I met the first day of 3rd grade when I borrowed her a pencil. (this is the same friend who was in the gang with me)
Oh yea, and I also owe my marriage to it as well.
On a deeper level — it left me constantly striving to please everyone because I never felt good enough. I felt shame for who I really was, for who my parents were. Shame about my body and that it was a “stumbling block” to men which was inherently my fault. It left me on a constant apology tour for anything and everything. It left me confused about relationships. All of the hypocrisy and rules caused many to reject God altogether, but it caused me to dig deeper and figure out the truth amid the confusion. I was fortunate enough to have balance in my life — my parents showed me the loving and less rigid side of Christianity. The most unconditional love that meets us where we are — no matter how imperfect, and accepts us anyway. The Jesus who welcomes everyone. Who knows we will never be good enough, and says, “that’s ok.”
But, I would be remiss not to say there weren’t some good people at the school. Many of the teachers — barely getting paid enough to survive, really did have good hearts. Most of them were just doing what they were taught was right, I suppose.
Were a lot of them on a self righteous-high-horse-power trip? Yep.
However, there were some who were not judgmental— but in fact, very genuine and truly cared for us — and I’ll never forget them.