Like all the
advantages of being white and male in North America,
there are advantages when it comes to being an ordained pastor. Here are
some of the obvious ones:
- No one ever defines my ministry by my gender. No
one says, “wow a male pastor or a man in ministry, good for you.” I
always get to be just a pastor. I don’t have to constantly live with a
qualifier in front of “pastor”, and I am not forced to bear someone’s
inappropriate shock that I am my gender and I am a pastor.
- People expect me to be direct and tell them what I think.
They want me to lead them somewhere. I am rarely challenged or expected
to defend or make a case for my ideas. I don’t have to apologize for
having strong opinions or constantly defend my ideas.
- People think twice about fighting with me. I always
have a leg up in conflict, bullies find it harder to push my buttons
because I have fewer to push. I am never automatically second class
because of my gender, so conflict is on equal terms or tipped in my
favour. I don’t have to suffer being called “boy” or “son” as way of
dismissing my point of view, and I am not accused of being divisive if I
disagree with something or anything.
- People are used to pastors of my gender. There are
no congregations that are unsure of male candidates for ministry, no
parishioners who think it is alright to say something like, “I will
never be buried by a man.” I don’t have to endure questions about
whether I will take paternity leave, or what will happen when I have
kids.
- People almost never assume that I have a particular gift for ministry before they know me.
They don’t automatically think that my gender is suited to particular
areas of ministry like preaching or administration. No one assumes that I
am not good at pastoral care or being nurturing. People don’t say that I
have the gift of speaking with a voice that men can relate to.
- I don’t have to worry about my safety. I don’t
think twice about being alone in the church or if I am safe on my own.
If a man asks to meet with me one on one, I don’t have to question my
physical safety or his motives. Men don’t try to share the peace with me
by hugging me (or grabbing my ass).
- No one assumes that I am the church secretary or the pastor’s spouse.
I am never told, “You don’t look like a pastor or you are took young to
be a pastor” even thought I am built like a football player and at
times have had long hair and a beard like a hell’s angel. And I have a
tattoo. And I am 30 (two decades younger than the average age of pastors
in our denomination).
- Churches are built for men. Pulpits, altars, pastor
chairs, vestments are all designed my size and body type in mind. I
don’t look ridiculous because the standard garb of my profession is made
for my gender, and I don’t look like a cross dresser in a clergy shirt.
- All the pronouns are for my gender. God is a he.
Jesus is a he. Pastors are almost always referred to as he or him or
his. I don’t have to correct people because they never use the wrong
pronoun to refer to me.
- Being male is the norm in the church. I didn’t have
to take classes in seminary about men’s issues, there is no post-modern
male theology, male pastors where never brought in to speak about being
male pastors as if it was special or odd or a novelty.
- I could join the Old Boys Club if I wanted to.
Leadership in the church is still overwhelmingly male, and there are no
glass ceilings for male pastors in the church. No one pretends it is,
“all in good fun” to make sexist jokes about my gender, and none of my
colleagues treats me like I am second class because of my gender.
- I don’t have to walk on egg shells in ecumenical situations.
I don’t have to justify my position and call to my conservative
colleagues, because they all have male pastors in their denominations. I
am not an oddity or the token male at ministerial events.
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