Bang the drum - not: women-church in the desert - spiritual journey conference for women

Commonweal, June 4, 1993 by Catherine Walsh

How can women roll back patriarchy and tackle seemingly insurmountable social problems including sexism, racism, violence, and poverty? No less daunting a question was asked by the organizers of "Women-church: Weavers of Change," a conference held in Albuquerque, New Mexico, April 16-18. Their answer was unity. In an effort to include women of other races and religions, organizers of the event down-played its Catholic roots, and embraced an agenda promoting the "spirituality of women" and liberal social change. The result was a politically correct and spiritually bland weekend. Even so, it did not avoid controversy.

The majority of the 2,500 participants were Catholic (laywomen and nuns, mostly middle-class and middle-aged), yet there was a marked discomfort with Catholic identity, symbols, and language. When asked for a percentage breakdown of Catholics and non-catholics in attendance, Sylvia Cancio, a conference planner and Cuban-American from Cincinnati, Ohio, said: "We refuse to use the terms |Catholic' and |non-catholic' in discussing what kind of conference this is. The word |Catholic' in this context denotes religious imperialism."

In an attempt to appeal to everyone and offend no one, rituals, prayers, and worship services focused on an undefined deity. That deity dwells within women, heals and empowers them. There was little talk about Jesus Christ or loving one's enemies. It seemed that along with the much publicized decision by the organizers not to celebrate a Catholic Mass, a more troubling and perhaps less conscious decision had been made to avoid expressing Christian beliefs.

Women were encouraged, however, to bring drums from home and to learn from the spiritual journeys of those different from themselves. The conference was organized around six "threads" - Native-American, African-American, Asian-American, Hispanic, Euro-American, and lesbian/bisexual - in an attempt "to bring women together across a great deal of diversity," said Adrian Dominican Sister Jamie Phelps, a conference planner and African-American theologian from Chicago. Sister Phelps wamed that "charting new waters" of cross-cultural dialogue would not be easy, and she was right.

Minority women were highly visible as keynote speakers and workshop presenters. But as Linda Simunek, a Filipina woman who spoke on education, noted, the sea of white faces in front of her were different from mine." And it wasn't just the faces. Though Simunek eventually received a standing ovation, her approving words for military women who put their bodies on the line "to free Kuwait" were greeted with a loud murmur of disapproval.

Perhaps the blistering final session, in which minority women excoriated the conference's latent racism, was inevitable. Women of color had been put in the role of teachers by white women who, distancing themselves from much of their own cultural and religious traditions, were looking to fill the void. As theologian Mary Hunt told the National Catholic Reporter, many Catholic women were exploring other spiritualities because they believe the church "is bankrupt morally, financially and theologically."

But a number of minority women grew increasingly uncomfortable with the role the conference had thrust upon them. At a focus session on African-American women and the church, one black woman expressed surprise and discomfort at seeing so many white women present. She wanted to know why no sessions had been planned where women of color could "air our dirty laundry without our white sisters listening in." This complaint and variations on it, expressed throughout the conference by minority women, over the tendency of the dominant culture to expropriate exotic aspects of their spiritualities came to a head during the final session when a Native American told white women carrying drums, "Put them down!"

Women had been invited at the beginning of the conference to participate in the weaving of a large basket set up in the Albuquerque Convention Center. Twigs and grasses, yarn and bright strips of cloth were provided so women could symbolically weave their dreams into the basket's frame; participants could also choose to put personal items, letters, and the names of loved ones on the basket. During the closing ceremony at the nearby Civic Plaza, the basket was symbolically burned as some women danced around it waving orange streamers. The basket was actually burned a week later for the purpose of "releasing the energy of women's dreams into the universe."

This colorful, chaotic basket seemed finally to capture the whimsy of the Women-Church conference. Seemingly anything could go into making the basket; the hopes, dreams, and beliefs of women from many different walks of life could all fit and end in creating something new. But the true value of the basket may have been sentimental only. To weave something that endures-like a Navajo rug - requires faithfulness to a tradition even while expanding it. Women-Church hasn't defined yet what it really believes and thus its long-term impact is still a matter of conjecture.