(The book is Self- Made Man. I don’t know if I would recommend it, on the whole. Some of the chapters, particularly the ones where she dates and goes to strip clubs, I found to be too raunchy.)

I heard her on NPR, where she discussed, among other things, how she went crazy as a result of the experience.

(The book is Self- Made Man. I don’t know if I would recommend it, on the whole. Some of the chapters, particularly the ones where she dates and goes to strip clubs, I found to be too raunchy.)

Starfoxy, I think you’ve made an important point–not only do we need to dissociate emotionality from spirituality, but we also need to dissociate physical manifestations of emotionality (i.e. tears, laughter) from both of the above.

As for the big deal made of men crying, I think we’re often unusued to seeing men cry because our society usually labels men crying as a negative thing. Though I do think this is shifting, and not just in the church (in the instances that Eve identifies). I think that there are a variety of scenarios (i.e. fathers crying when discussing their children, patriots talking about how much they love their country) where it’s become increasingly acceptable for men to cry.

I think the general lesson I would draw from my post and the additional thoughts by Eve is that we need to have a lot more awareness of societal messages and expectations when it comes to emotionality for both genders. Because I really think that misunderstanding on this subject can limit everyone’s spiritual and emotional understanding (because you’re being measured unfairly, or because you feel emotionally and/or spiritually restricted, etc.)

I think the presence of tears or laughter (or lack thereof) doesn’t necessarily indicate anything, and as you mentioned it is incredibly unfortunate that tears = spiritual in many people’s minds. This may just be another case of universalizing personal experiences to the point of ostrasizing those that don’t fit the mold. (“I cry when I feel the spirit so you must too!”)

I’m curious about how big of a deal it is when men cry during talks or testimonies. I remember Elder Eyring tearing up once during conference and everyone in the room grew very very quiet, and were watching very intently. It was sorta creepy.

For example, my husband has told me about a not-favorite mission companion who wept a lot during discussions and, quoting scriptures about Jesus weeping over the little children (no birds mentioned :>) and who suggested that my husband wasn’t as spiritual as he because my husband didn’t tend to cry while teaching. My husband said that after a while he started to wonder if he really wasn’t spiritual enough because he didn’t cry.

We’ve already talked about Girls’ Camp testimony meeting sobbing, but I’ve also seen it function as one of the few–maybe, in some circumstances, the only–acceptable emotional outlet for men. I remember being very struck by this as missionary, watching certain elders in one particular district who were chronically detached, cynical, and tough with each other get up in testimony meetings and sob. It was almost bizarre, the night-to-day transformation was so dramatic (and of course, once testimony meeting was over, they went right back to being their usual obnoxious selves). I think testimony meeting was functioning as an outlet for emotions that had no other place in their masculine lives.

One of the things I loved, and love, about my husband is that he cries without shame. He doesn’t cry often, but when he feels the need to, he simply cries. He tends to cry when feeling the spirit (maybe more than I do) but also, once in a while, for the reasons we all cry. I was so struck by that about him when we were dating–early in our relationship something happened, he got emotional and cried, I comforted him, and then we went on to the next thing. Unlike most other men I’d known, he wasn’t in the least ashamed of it. It was very refreshing.

Stephen, I can definitely identify with your sentiment! I didn’t want to address this point too extensively in my post, since it was a slightly different focus than my focus on gender, but I do think there’s a tendency in the church to align pathos with spirituality, and it definitely drives me crazy sometimes.

Tam, as I indicated in my post, I’m definitely in favor of reclaiming the emotions so that they’re not seen as something to be ashamed of. I, too, believe that Christ (and Heavenly Father as well) is an emotional being. I love Moses 7 (esp around verses 28-32) where God weeps because of the actions of his children. To me it indicates not 0nly is God an emotional being, but He is profoundly emotionally connected to his children and their actions.

And I don’t have anything against birds (that’s cool that you’re an ornithologist)! The talks by women in General Conference and other church meetings that consist primarily of cute stories about flowers, children, birds, etc., drive me crazy. I think there was one women’s conference or General RS meeting where almost all of the talks mentioned birds, so that’s what’s stuck in my head as a reference point for these kinds of talks.

EmilyS, I think your comments are very telling observations about what I was trying to communicate in this post. I think it’s interesting that both you and Kiskilili felt that there was something wrong with you (or had others think there was something wrong with you) because you weren’t crying during spiritual moments. My suspicion is that most men in the church haven’t felt like there was something wrong with them because they did not express spiritual feelings through tears.

Kiskilili, hehe. I will cry at church or during spiritual moments sometimes, but I cry much more often when I get angry or frustrated or really depressed. It’s something I very much wish I could change because when I get angry I want people to take my anger seriously, not pat me on the head and try to comfort me.

I belong very much in EmilyS’s camp. I have never once cried in my life as a result of feeling the Spirit. For a long time, especially as a teenager, I was convinced (and my leaders were certainly convinced!) that there was something wrong with me because I was such a boulder. In spite of the fact that I felt things intensely, I simply did not weep over them, and certainly not publicly.

On the other hand, I tend to cry profusely when I’m angry, so you’d better believe if you see me tearing up in Church that I’m in the mood to punch something, NOT that I’m having a tender spiritual experience.

Don’t get me wrong, I feel things deeply, but my spirituality just doesn’t seem to well up in the form of tears, and I’m afraid people often think of me as detached–or even unapproachable–because I am so much more interested in scriptoral analysis or doctrinal discussions, and often feel impatient with “bird stories” (sorry Tam!). This has the double consequence of making the women (speaking in flawed generalizations, of course) feel as if I don’t connect with them, and making the men feel distrustful of me as a woman who doesn’t exude the correct womanly approach to the gospel. Ack!

But on a personal level, I too have sort of bought into this idea that tears are a measure of true feeling. I often feel like I must not be truly repentant because my godly sorrow doesn’t cause me to weep with shame before the Lord. I remember thinking as a teenager that I probably couldn’t really be forgiven until I’d “proven” my repentance with tears, and I’d lie awake at night trying desperately to tap into the right angle of looking at my mistakes that would be personally horrifying enough to make me cry. In some ways I think I still feel this way, and wonder at my own detachment, even as I know I’m not truly that unfeeling.