Monday, 1 December 2008

You belong to me


The other day I was sitting in an espresso bar in London’s West End and a Chinese couple by the window caught my eye. He fed her a spoonful of the froth from his cappuccino on a dainty teaspoon. She nodded appreciatively. Later they stood and walked towards me at the back on the way to the toilets. His hand guided her pregnant form through the cafe. They descended and then reappeared a few minutes later. My initial reaction was “How thoughtful he is – a caring, gentle, protective man”. As the tune on the café soundtrack changed I was struck by its lyric “You belong to me”. What a fine line it is between protection and possession. How delicate the balance between love and control.

How am I to interpret the couple’s behaviour? Was the man warm and loving in his care or was he exerting his possession of his wife and unborn child? These sorts of questions of gender and belonging constantly spin in my mind as I renegotiate what it is to be a woman of God, working in a feminist-yet-not work environment.

The fact of the matter is that we don’t belong to anyone but God. Husbands, employers, parents or children may lay claim to our possession but deep down we don’t belong to them. We don’t even belong to ourselves. This is one of my favourite quotes which sums this up perfectly:

What we are is God’s gift to us.
What we become is our gift to God.
(Eleanor Powell)

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