Day 354 - Why Won't Mennonites Have Sex Standing Up?

The joke goes, because it might lead to dancing...

(And as we all know, dancing is the devil's snare to all sorts of vile ungodliness.)

No, this is not my actual family.
This is just a photo I found online when I searched for "dancing Mennonites."

My parents left the Mennonite church before I was born, but they didn't leave everything Mennonite. It's the peculiar thing about change - I call it the "maximum rate of change." It doesn't matter where we start or how far we think we want to go, the human mind can only evolve so fast. So, we convince ourselves that the real truth is within reach and all we need to do is shed a few layers, like a snake outgrowing its skin. 

Just comparing the truth to a snake probably made every conservative reading this shudder with horror. But, look at history. How many times over and over and over has the story been about one man (not usually a woman) who rebels against the traditions of his ancestors to forge a new path, is first persecuted, then lauded for it, organizes and enforces a new set of rules for a couple of generations until once again, someone else breaks free from the herd to explore new terrain? 

Really, I'm fairly convinced that the truth is like a snake, in that there are continual cycles of shedding and growing a new skin. And the baby snake can't skip to growing the adult skin, regardless of his brilliant deductions about truth and life. He is restricted by a maximum rate of change.

Mom didn't cut her hair immediately after leaving the church or abandon the head covering, but she did start wearing her hair down and she changed the style of her covering. Every little change was met with grievances from her family, because they believed their truth was the only truth and the best love for her was a tough love. Any amount of earthly hell that they inflicted on her was justified as long as they could save her immortal soul from the eternal sufferings of God's judgment.

While Mom's changes centered more around her appearance and her sexuality (such is religion), my dad went through more changes with his work. Learning how to work and succeed outside of the Mennonite community was hard for him. He was capable, but with only a high school diploma, he didn't hold any of the world qualifications...and he wasn't connected. He had to figure out how to make friends, how to talk to people, how to market himself, how to seize the best opportunities. And quite honestly, as both an introvert and an ex-Mennonite, he floundered in confusion and resentment a lot. It's probably one of the biggest reasons why we moved so much.

Mom gradually learned how to wear makeup and jewelry and Delbert finally found his own feet in working for himself, apart from family or religious motivations. However, that took my entire childhood for them to get there. My siblings and I were the snake babies often awkwardly dressed in hand-me-down skins. Even so, from their starting point, my parents did change a lot:

• Us girls eventually wore pants (although initially we were dressed in cheap boys clothing)...

• Mom finally whacked our hair to shoulder-length when I was eight (much to my father's fury)...

• and we sporadically attended public school between the religious institutions and being home schooled (which faithfully introduced us to school dances and rhythmic music capable of tempting the hips to gyrate).

Mom and Delbert attempted a little square dancing themselves, but honestly the unholiness of freely moving the body for pleasure (and in public!) was so deeply ingrained that they could never fully add that to their change. Their rate of change was maxed out.

So square dancing, Olivia Newton John, and Neil Diamond were my intro to the sinful liberties of dancing. We didn't even have a t.v. until I was 13 and we never had cable, so MTV and VH1 were absolutely not an option. In fact, I had to begin my own rate of change by sneaking the radio under my pillow at night to listen to light rock, secular music. Needless to say, the social engagement or physical prowess of dancing did not get handed to me or my siblings on a silver Walkman.

My school friends had to ask my crush for my first dance in the 8th grade...and I politely bowed my french-braided head to offer him a modest thank you afterward.

At my only prom, I vowed to dance with as much enthusiasm as I wanted (which I did)...and was later rewarded with the horrifying reenactment of my efforts in front of everyone who came to the after party. I'll never forgive that douchebag for that.

Note the general awkwardness of
...everyone in this photo
Is that dancing? Or wrestling??

I awkwardly, but eagerly stumbled through swing dancing lessons from a VHS tape with a handful of bible college students - but only during the summers when we could escape the school rules that forbid dancing. I started to have more confidence with dancing, even though I once embarrassed myself with the hip throws that finished with my legs wrapped around his waist. 
(He literally dropped me...because he assumed that, of course, we wouldn't take it that far.) 

He didn't drop me, however,
for this move...hmm

Attempt at belly dancing with a friend

But I kept exploring, kept taking free dance lessons, and kept offering my body to the gods of sensuality on the altar of humiliation. I fought my way through my own rate of change. 

So did my sister. She and her husband even included dancing at their wedding, which, of course, made my grandparents feel as if they were tricked into condoning immoral behavior. 
(They wrote her their own letter of reprimand after the wedding.)

I'm still dancing. 

I went country dancing tonight.

I often feel more like a drunk giraffe in the Icecapades, but I'm much more comfortable with my body in public than a true Mennonite would ever be.

Though, I should mention....
there might actually be a correlation 
between having sex standing up and dancing 
because they're both equally challenging... 

...and equally fun.