Remembering Katie, A Year Later

It’s been a year now since we heard the terrible news that our co-blogger Katie (Vada) had been killed in a car accident. I feel like a year should be long enough for me to believe that this horrific incident actually happened, but I don’t always feel like I’m there. Part of it is maybe the absurd awfulness of the whole thing—could the universe really be so cruel as to have this happen to a mother of six, driving home from seeing her twin girls in the NICU? I mean, really??? And part of it is maybe tied up with what it means to  have a relationship with someone when most of your interaction is online. I hadn’t seen Katie in person since her sister’s wedding in 2011. But it felt like I “saw” her all the time, because she was around on Facebook, and in our blog discussions. And yet—people disappear from the internet regularly. It doesn’t usually mean that they’re actually gone. It’s like I can’t get my brain to entirely process that the reason she isn’t on Facebook anymore isn’t just that she decided to take a break. That’s she’s not going to reappear. It’s still wrenching to grapple with the reality of what happened.

But I’ve been reading through our archives, and I’ve picked out some comments she made over the years to share. Katie brought a very down-to-earth, practical tone to her blogging. There wasn’t much pretense with her; she simply said what she thought. She once noted, “I should probably be a lot more hesitant about writing comments, but I’m generally not. I seem to just not care about making a fool of myself (so please, jump right in and join me!).”

Katie was straightforward about her feminist views. When we asked people about their most significant gender-related concerns, she responded:

My number one concern is gender roles in the temple ceremony. My numbers two and three were the male-only priesthood and husbands presiding. The reason these things bother me more than the others is because these are things that are not just of this world, but of eternity. I don’t love that there are no women in church administration, but I also believe that church administration is only applicable in this life, so it doesn’t bother me as much. What really gets to me is the suggestion and implication that I’m going to be a second-class citizen not just temporarily, but forever.

On a similar note, she observed:

We pray to Our Heavenly Father, and have no relationship with our Heavenly Mother. As far as we know, she was not involved in the creation of this world, and her only part in the plan of salvation seems to be to help in the creation of us as spiritual beings. I have no desire to be simply a spiritual baby machine, any more than I want to simply be a physical baby machine in this world. We no longer teach that women’s only roles in this life are that of wife and mother, but we’re not far from such teachings, and our teachings still indicate that those are our only roles in the eternities.

Though she also noted, in another conversation, that she hoped for something better:

My feelings on gender roles in the endowment are (besides being angst-ridden) hope and faith that these relationships are not set up the same way in heaven. Some people might criticize this, and say I shouldn’t expect things to change in a certain way, but if I really believed that things were ordered that way in heaven I think I’d leave the church. I have to have faith that this is an earthly principal set up for a specific reason.

She also weighed in on the issue of modesty:

Young women wearing short skirts or tank tops should not be blamed in any part for men having pornographic thoughts. The men who have those thoughts are responsible for them. Period. Telling the young women otherwise is perpetuating cultural norms that are wrong and, in my opinion, downright evil (such as a bishop needing to evaluate how much culpability a rape victim possessed for her rape).

And she expressed frustration about common kinds of discourse to husbands and wives:

Men are told to “love” and “treasure” their wives. Women are told to “encourage”, “pray for”, and “help” their husbands. I think that this is pretty common in church discourse. How much better would it be if the general authorities, instead of telling husbands to treasure their wives, said something like, “Husbands, your wives are working hard, and doing important things. Encourage them, help them, and pray for them.”

While love is great, I don’t particularly care about being treasured. And I know I could always do with more encouragement, help, and prayers. That would be an inspiring message.

She also objected to the idea that wives should be subordinate to husbands in the same way that Jesus is subordinate to the Father:

The biggest problem I have with the Heavenly Father-Jesus and husband-wife parallel is also one of the biggest problems I have with the view/treatment of women in the church — that they are children. Too often things are grouped as “men” and “women and children”, while I think the grouping should be “men and women” and “children”.

And she pushed back on the idea that men and women needed to develop gender-specific attributes (responding to the comment: “I think that some of the things that make for a good woman don’t necessarily make for a good man”):

Can you give us any examples? We are all taught to come to Christ, and to gain Christlike attributes, and that this is the only way to become perfect. It seems to me that this means we should all be cultivating the exact same attributes (namely, the ones that Christ had).

While she could certainly engage these kinds of questions theoretically, on the ground, Katie often exhibited a pragmatic approach to things. She once commented, “As for the ever-contentious issue of presiding, I tend to ignore it, because I don’t like it. I don’t know if it’s the best solution, but it seems to work for me.” Another time, she went into detail about how she and her husband navigated the presiding issue:

On the other hand, we never do come to an agreement on some things, and that’s where presiding comes in. Sometimes a decision has to be made even if we don’t agree on what the decision should be. So the arrangement in our marriage is that each of us presides over different things. Not that we’ve ever explicitly stated it that way. We have, however, divided many responsibilities in our marriage (explicitly and implicitly), and we both understand that whoever’s responsible for a certain thing therefore presides in that matter.

Her practical approach to life also shone through in her comments about not having been given a middle name:

Unlike others, I wasn’t really bothered by the fact that my parents didn’t give me a middle name. I was occasionally bothered by the fact that I didn’t have a middle name, but I just chose my own middle name (Vada, as a matter of fact) and used it. End of issue for me.

In addition to talking about feminist matters, Katie regularly addressed day-to-day issues involved in being a member of the church. For example, she once shared what she disliked about Enrichment:

Enrichment doesn’t have to be all about scrapbooking. (And I, for one, wish it wasn’t. The only enrichment activity I currently enjoy and participate in is playgroup. And while I appreciate it, it doesn’t really enrich me.)

Another time, she mentioned some Enrichment groups she would have liked to have available, including a group that visited other churches and learned from their leaders,  and a group that exchanged meals:

 You know, you make enough casserole or whatever for 8 different families, and 7 other families do the same, and then you exchange them and have 8 different good meals already prepared. I’d especially like this because I feel like I have no ideas of things to cook any more, and I’d love to get some good ideas (besides the good, already prepared food).

She also tackled practical issues that come up around callings. She once posted about her ambivalence about asking to be released from a calling, with refreshing honesty:

So, I really want to be released. I’m miserable and hating church. But I haven’t yet managed to convince myself that I should ask to be released. Part of this is because I know there are other people who do callings they don’t particularly want to, but they are good and gracious and do them anyway. I feel guilty asking to be released from a calling that really isn’t that hard . . .

On the other hand, I’m miserable. I dread church. I hate going. I’m also starting to get bitter and resentful . . . . I’ve put in my time in a miserable calling, shouldn’t it be my turn for a good one? Shouldn’t [others with preferable callings] have to put in their time being miserable before they get to do something good? I hate that I have these thoughts, but that doesn’t stop me from having them (at least sometimes).

Another time, she did a survey: “Would you rather hold a time-consuming calling or would you rather your spouse held one?” For her personally the answer was that she would definitely prefer that she be the one in her marriage with a difficult calling:

 While I don’t particularly enjoy being a cub scout leader, and it’s certainly not a calling I would ever aspire to (much like that of bishop), I still find it infinitely preferable to my husband being cub scout leader and me having yet one more night home alone with my children.

A particularly fun thing that Katie brought to the blog was her willingness to post about completely random things. For example, she once wrote a post titled “The Thing I Lose the Most,” sharing:

It occurred to me today that the thing I lose the most is not your typical keys, wallet, phone, etc. No, the thing I lose the most is … whatever book I happen to be reading . . . I tend to lose it at least once a day, and sometimes it takes me quite a long time to find it.

And on the topic of books, she also wrote a post sharing what mattered the most to her in reading:

The conclusion I came to was that for me, a good book is all about the characters. A good book makes me feel what the characters are feeling. There needs to be a halfway decent plot, but if I can’t relate to the characters, no amount of plot will save the book for me. The same goes for the actual prose. It needs to not get in the way of the story too much, but I honestly don’t care if it’s great.  . . . [The books I love] mean a lot to me because they made me feel like someone understood me and understood how I felt at times in my life when I wasn’t really sure anyone did. That is what makes them great books — I can empathize with the characters, and conversely, if others can write characters who feel like these ways, I’m not alone in feeling them.

She once wrote a post venting about the medical challenges faced by both her and her children, which included this memorable response to a doctor’s visit:

My position summed up: AAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

She also blogged about strategies for self-motivation, noting several that had worked for her. One year she shared that she’d started a spreadsheet as a way to manage her goals:

The spreadsheet doesn’t have the problems that past lists and charts have always had. You see, all I had to do was label the columns at the top and put the calendar dates down the side, and voila! — all set, no more work to make it up or keep it up. I also don’t have to keep track of it (always a problem in my house which tends to get overrun with papers) since it’s on my computer. Plus, there it’s a constant reminder (because let’s face it, I spend way too much time on my computer). It’s always open, and I look at it multiple times a day, and I want to check those little boxes off. And guess what? It’s working.

And in one of the most random posts ever on this blog, titled “There’s a Fly in My Room,” Katie debated whether she should turn off the light or kill the fly. Because over the years our posts here have often been somewhat academically dense and have tackled a lot of heavy issues, I loved that she was fine with posting things like this.

As a single woman, another thing I appreciated about Katie’s comments is that she gave me more insight into the challenges faced by mothers of young children. For example, she once noted:

Also, while I would love to have single friends, and always said I would even when I was married, and when I had kids (and that I would be friends with those who were married without kids even when I had kids, etc), I’m finding the practice much harder than the theory. It’s not that I don’t want to be friends with these people, it’s just that I’m so overwhelmed chasing my kids that I don’t get a chance to talk to them. So my advice is that if you want to be friends with anyone with little kids is to go a little out of your way to talk to them rather than waiting for them to talk to you (I know, I’m sure there are many other circumstances that make talking to new people hard as well) — I’m pretty sure they’ll be grateful you did.

Similarly, in a discussion of the weirdness that sometimes marks any interaction at church between a married person and someone of the opposite sex, while acknowledging the existence of problematic cultural norms, she also noted:

That being said, if a single woman is talking to my husband at church, I’m sure I’ll be hovering. That’s because if my husband is talking to anyone at church I’m generally hovering, silently thinking, “What are you doing having a conversation with someone? Come help me with your children!”

That kind of thing is actually really helpful information for someone in my situation.

Katie did not at all idealize motherhood; she talked about it in a very candid way. Her post that got the most google hits, by far, was the one titled “I Hate Breastfeeding.” She shared:

Well, since it’s National Breastfeeding Awareness Month, I’ve seen a number of posts about breastfeeding and how great and wonderful it is. Azucar even talks about the glories of nursing toddlers. So I felt the need to come out of the closet myself, and tell everyone the truth. I hate breastfeeding. I absolutely hate and abhor it. Much like pregnancy. (Though I think I hate and abhor pregnancy more.)

Another time she commented:

But while my family is the most important thing in my life, it is not the only thing, and it’s never going to be. While I spend my time feeding kids and changing messy diapers my mind is atrophying, and it’s driving me insane. I have to have some intellectual stimulation. So I read, do our taxes (not fun, but definitely challenging), and have interesting discussions online. And I write.

She also discussed the frustration she felt around issues regarding the choice to be a SAHM, and the choice to get education, and how those decisions got viewed:

I hate it that whatever we do with our lives as women in the church we feel like we’re making a political statement. Even though I’ve chosen to be a SAHM at the moment, and feel like it’s the right choice (for me, for now), it drives me crazy the assumptions people make because of that choice. The assumption I find the most annoying is from other women who are SAHMs (not all of them, but a few), who assume that I agree that that is the best and only thing women should be doing. Often when I tell people I’m a SAHM I have to fight the urge to place all sorts of caveats on it, like that I miss working, or that I want to go back to grad school.

And then occasionally I feel bad in the other direction, too. When I talk about graduating from college, sometimes it makes my friends who didn’t feel like I’m judging them or looking down on them, even though I’m not. Just the other day I was at the park with a few other moms and we were talking about how long we’d been married, and it took us a few seconds to come up with the year. And I said that the only reason I could remember it was because we got married just after I graduated from college, and I remember that year, so then I just have to count forward. After I said it all the other moms there made statements that made me realize that none of them had graduated from college and that they felt defensive about it. I felt bad, because I was not being judgmental and I hated that it made them feel judged. It was such an innocuous comment from my perspective — but I think since I finished college I just see that as the default and assume everyone around me did. Sometimes it’s hard to know how to talk about things without making others feel like we’re judging them for thinking differently or doing things differently.

In addition, Katie wrote thoughtfully about the challenges of raising children with disabilities. She regularly made sure that we remembered World Autism Awareness Day. She also once wrote about how her experiences had changed her from being a person who was uncomfortable around those with disabilities:

Being the mother of a child with autism has changed all this for me. I now often wonder how I could have possibly not known what to do when one of these children interacted with me. They obviously want the same thing that, deep down, all of us want when we interact with others — a kind word and a smile. And those things are so easy to give.

And in a hilarious aside, she once explained in a comment why she might not be making sense: “In my defense I have a 2yo dropping piles of paper on the bed next to me saying ‘I Diesel 10. I breaking timber.’ Over and over again. I’m pretty much incapable of real thought.” (I am especially appreciating this comment right now, because I am composing this post while doing my best to answer questions about Star Wars from my 8yo nephew. I feel like Katie of all people would have appreciated that.)

Other ZDs shared a few thoughts about Katie for this post.

from Mike C’s wife:

I miss Katie’s thoughtfulness so much. She was one of the most thoughtful people I ever “met” (“met” in quotes because I only knew her online). When I say “thoughtful,” I don’t mean “kind”, though she was very kind, I mean “full of thought”. I admired how introspective, careful, self-reflective, and measured she was. She thought carefully and deeply about many subjects . . . I was always so relieved to see her weigh in on things because I just knew her comments would be polite, well thought out, smart, compassionate, and wise. I really miss her wisdom. I often wonder “how would Katie have responded to this?” And then I imagine in my mind what she would have said as a way to remember her. It’s not the same as actually having her here, but it’s a way I can hang on to her.

from Ziff:

One of the strongest memories I have of Katie is how her “day in the life” post at fMh really expressed to me so perfectly how utterly exhausting it can be to be a stay-at-home parent to small children. Like, it’s an easy thing to say that it’s exhausting, but the way she explained it just hit me in a new way. One of my favorite posts ever on the blogs.

http://www.feministmormonhousewives.org/…/09/life-of-vada

from Galdralag:

As I go about my day I often feel a sudden painful prick, reminding me of her loss. Some of our collective musings have left her indelibly connected with world events in my mind .  . . for example, as Syria has re-entered American and Western political dialogue, I have felt her presence constantly around the edges of my thoughts. I recall on the backblog, in a moment when I despaired that more of my Mormon people had not advocated for Syrian refugees before they were instructed to do so by Mormon leadership, she gently pushed back. (For those who don’t know, my doctorate is in Middle East History, so it is perhaps not surprising that the Syrian conflict weighs heavily on me. I regularly resist the urge to post about it even more than I already do.) She was a passionate advocate for sick and disabled children, she explained, and it sometimes troubled her that others didn’t feel the same fire. People do what they can, and advocate where they can.

It was a small thing, but so much of life and relationships are built up from small everyday moments, and I valued her gentle reminder in that moment. It re-centered me. It was the kind of dialogue that I wish were more common on social media; as an interlocutor, she was unfailingly empathetic, thoughtful, listening, and willing to offer a different perspective while trusting in the good intentions of others. In other words, she was a good person and a good friend. I miss her.

I’d like to end with two comments I found in the archives that particularly  touched me. In writing about the meaning of “home,” Katie shared:

I feel at home on the bloggernacle, and especially here at ZD. I think it’s one of the great things about a family blog — you want everyone there for who they are, not because they fit in nicely with what you blog about. (Though technically, it’s not my family, and I’ve actually only met one member of the Zelophehad clan; still, they seem to have adopted me, and I’m happy to have them.) So here’s to feeling at home and being able to be completely and totally my random, crazy self.

It makes me happy to think that our community at ZD was important to her; she was definitely important to it.

Finally, I came across this comment, in the course of a conversation of what heaven might be like:

I am also waiting to attend the University of Lollygag in the hereafter. I used to plan what I was going to do in the millenium — like learn how to build really awesome old wooden sailing ships (like the Constitution), and build one and sail it. I figured if I have a thousand years, I could do that, along with a number of other things . . . I can’t imagine a heaven where I don’t get to learn (and get some experience with) all these things I’ve always wanted to know.

Reading this made me cry, but it also made me hope. I hope that’s what she’s doing now. Building wooden sailing ships, and learning all the things she always wanted to know.

She is deeply missed.