The Proverbs 31 Woman, Capitalism & Naps

Chances are if you were assigned the tender feminine gender at your evangelical birth, well, ya probably have a lot of baggage and issues that stem from questionable portrayals of women in the Bible.

Among the vagina-laden humans celebrated in the canon, we have everyone from a literal teenager, whose virginity inspired millennia of penis-havers to idolize purity, to the wily, vengeful Judge Deborah, who straight up murdered a Philistine with a wicked tent peg through the temple. Pretty badass, tbh. 

But greatest among these female role models, as few and scattered they were amid the many, many Jezebel-style characters (by the way, “eaten by dogs” is my preferred way to describe a death)…there stood alone a perfect prototype of the ideal wife. The Proverbs 31 Woman. This strong, gluten-free woman (she eats not the bread of idleness), stays awake all damn night working on her embroideries and preserves, dresses her children in scarlet, herself in purple and linens, and gets busy making food, importing and exporting goods, feeding the poor, feeding her lovin’ man/king, and fully celebrated by all excellence at everything. She surpasses all other women with her tireless, industrious, wise work ethic. But when does she get to take a damn nap? 

Join your new favorite heretics as they discuss what The Proverbs 31 Woman meant to them, why 3/3rds of them *still* have a hard time letting their lamp go out by night, and where and how we might like to grow in perhaps less hurried and productive ways. Welcome to radical uselessness. And yeah, you can wear all the scarlet and purple and strength and dignity you can handle - no shame in that. Just know that it’s good to take a beat sometimes and even better to remember this P 31 woman (as I’ve seen her referred to on her most devoted fan websites) - she was never a real person at all. What if we could become our own heroes instead of living up to an impossible idea? What if we got to enjoy the fruit of our labor too?

Let’s try it. After we take a wee nap.

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The Object of My Affliction.