Excerpt

With a Woman's Face

The church's public commitment to a preferential option for the poor at the regional bishops' conference in Medellín, in 1968, meant that Catholicism in Latin America could no longer be looked at as a static, conservative force in politics. At about the same time, feminists also began to reassess their conclusion that religion inevitably contributed to women's subordination.

Carol Ann Drogus

In 1987, women from Christian base communities in the Catholic parish of Santo Antônio in São Paulo's poor eastern periphery celebrated International Women's Day. To commemorate the event, they designed a poster bearing the slogan "Women! Make History!" emblazoned above a lithograph depicting a woman with upraised arm, bursting the confines of a house. The slogan was more than mere rhetoric: since 1980, Santo Antônio, like many poor urban areas throughout Latin America, had been galvanized by a series of social movements challenging the government to improve living conditions. Contrary to the expectations of both social science and popular wisdom, poor, religious women from the base communities were in the forefront of this activism in Brazil and throughout the region.

Women's mobilization and politicization were unexpected consequences of the creation of the Popular Church, a movement identified spiritually with liberation theology, and organizationally with the Christian base communities. As one author observed of E1 Salvador, "The surprise in the birthing of the Iglesia Popular (Popular Church) is that the midwives are women" (Golden 1991, 38). Liberation theology set out to shake the Catholic Church out of centuries of passive and active support for the existing social order. It envisioned religion as a source of cultural, political, and social change. That change was to come through a process of consciousness raising in the base communities—small grassroots communities of the poor—that would lead the poor to recognize and act upon their oppression as a social class.

The liberationist message, with its emphasis on exploitation of the poor as workers, was most clearly directed at the situation of poor men. When priests and nuns carried the consciousness-raising techniques, radical symbolism, and class analysis to poor urban areas, however, women were more likely than their husbands to respond to the call to form base communities (comunidades eclesiais de base, or CEBs). One nun working in a factory and living in a poor urban community noted: "The CEBs don't have an adequate structure for workers. The factory influences them for forty-eight hours, the CEB for two. I perceived then that the church did not reach youth or workers, but only women, old people, and children, whose life is centered in the neighborhood.... In the CEBs, the majority are women" (Nunes 1985, 178). Base communities are not exclusively female preserves, of course. In Brazil as a whole, women represented about 55 to 60 percent of all members in 1994 (Pierucci and Prandi 1995, 22, 29). In many urban communities especially, however, the day-to-day audience—the core workers who organize the masses, catechism classes, novenas, and often the social movements as well—is female. Cecilia Mariz's informal survey of sixteen CEBs in Pernambuco found that 74 percent of the leaders were women (Mariz 1989, 84). In urban São Paulo, two-thirds to 90 percent of base community members are women (Hewitt 1985, 120; "Aos animadores").

This book explores the significance of this fact for women, for the Catholic Church, and for society. It asks whether religious experience is gendered and, if so, what impact this has had on the liberationist project of religious and political change. To answer the second question is to ask as well what the liberationist experience has meant for women. What effect did participation in the base communities have on their religious beliefs, political attitudes, and behavior? Finally, this book asks how the experience of the base communities may have changed women's thinking about themselves and their roles in the family, the church, and society.

RELIGION, CULTURE, AND POLITICS

Only twenty-five years ago, it would have seemed strange to ask what role religion, particularly Catholicism, might play in political and social change in Latin America. The problematic linkage was not between religion and politics or society. On the contrary, many scholars saw Latin American politics and culture as profoundly shaped by a Catholic ethos. Precisely because Catholicism appeared to be the source of deeply ingrained political and cultural beliefs, social scientists of many stripes—Marxists, functionalists, feminists—deemed it incapable of generating change, and especially "progressive" change.

Catholicism arguably stood as an obstacle to social change in the direction of greater equality and democracy in two areas especially, political culture and gender relations. Scholarship generally pointed to three means by which the church buttressed inegalitarian relationships. First, institutional structures and politics tied the church to elite groups, whether political or gender elites. Second, the larger religious ethos of official Catholicism—doctrine, ritual, beliefs—seemed to be a powerful conservative cultural force. Third, popular religion, though quite different from the official religion, also seemed a substantial obstacle to progressive change.

In the realm of politics and political culture, much research focused on the link between the institutional church and the state. From that perspective, the church seemed firmly linked to the interests of conservative elites. It repeatedly sided with and gave legitimacy to authoritarian regimes throughout the region, often in exchange for recognition of church privileges. The second source of church influence, official doctrine and symbolism, also seemed to shape the region's `'two-class, authoritarian, traditional, elitist, patrimonial, Catholic, stratified, hierarchical, and corporate" political culture (Wiarda 1973, 209). Religious reinforcement of this authoritarian political culture originated in Iberian Catholicism's corporatist, feudal, and antidemocratic tendencies (Wiarda 1973). Popular religious practices seemed to further buttress political practices such as patron-clientelism, with its hierarchical structures, dependence of the masses on elite benefactors, and impediments to effecting intraclass political mobilization. Moreover, the otherworldly quality of folk Catholicism arguably led poor individuals to channel their efforts toward propitiating the supernatural elements, rather than organizing collective political action for change (de Kadt 1967).

Feminist scholars modified mainstream sociological theories of religion and applied these to the analysis of gender relations. They concluded that religion was "the major cultural reinforcer of modern industrial patriarchy" (Briggs 1987, 408). In Latin America, feminists saw Mediterranean Catholicism reinforcing a conservative gender ideology in much the same way it reinforced an unequal and exclusionary political culture. The institutional church's actions, such as opposition to divorce and birth control, contributed to women's subordination. So, too, did official Catholic doctrine, which stressed women's domesticity and proper vocation as wife and mother. In its popular folk version, marianismo, Catholicism's exaltation of the Virgin Mary simultaneously raised women to a level of moral superiority and excluded them from participation in the public realm. Indeed, the term marianismo came to describe not only a complex web of beliefs and devotional practices centered on Mary, but also a social norm, the inverse of machismo, that perpetuates women's subordination, especially in the public realm.

Static theories of religion's conservative political and social impact, however, ignore the fact that religion has always been a crucial element in stimulating political action by the Latin American poor, including women. A team of Mexican researchers claim that "For the Latin American people, the leaders in whom they have confidence are religious leaders.… Movements of popular rebellion have been religious movements although not always inspired by priests. But a popular movement always needs religious motives...." Such theories also ignore the multifaceted nature of religious belief, concluding that religiously inspired popular movements must be reactionary, "traditionalizing," or in some way "pre-political." But while some religiously motivated movements may have these characteristics, religion is not always and inevitably a conservative force with respect to either politics or patriarchy.

In different contexts, David Laitin (Africa) and Daniel Levine (Latin America) have stressed the mutability and complexity of religious symbols. Laitin points out that multiple strands in religious traditions make them particularly open to reinterpretation:

"any religion encompasses a number of traditions that are in some degree in conflict.... World religions constitute complex social realities; and adherents to those religions are not limited in their repertoires for action by a single system of symbols. Religious adherents have available to them the original books and founding ideology, the various traditions of the priests, and the contemporary development of the religion elsewhere in the world." (Laitin 1986, 24)

Levine notes that such complexity can provide a basis for change in even the most "conservative" religion: "it is not religion per se which produces conservative effects, but rather a particular set of historically determined concepts, tradition and organizational commitments. As these change, we may expect new models of social and political action to arise in association with them" (Levine 1980, 16).

The multifaceted nature of religious symbols opens them to conflicting interpretations, some with conservative and others with quite radical implications for social, political, and cultural change. This fact was brought home to students of Latin American religion and politics by the advent of liberation theology and the growth of the Popular Church. The church's public commitment to a preferential option for the poor at the regional bishops' conference in Medellín (1968) meant that Catholicism in Latin America could no longer be looked at as a static, conservative force in politics. Since that time, most scholars have come to take "change in religion...as normal and continuous," and have also stressed the primacy and autonomy of religious motivations for political action and social change (Levine 1991, 683).

At about the same time, feminists also began to reassess their conclusion that religion inevitably contributed to women's subordination. The women's spirituality movement and feminist theologies of liberation suggested that reworked religious ideas could be a source of empowerment rather than subordination for women. Consensus on religion's mutability and potentially liberating role is considerably less widespread among feminists than among mainstream students of religion and politics, however, and most feminist theory still casts doubt on the ability of a movement initiated in a male-dominated church to emancipate women.
The central issue for Latin American religion in any case was what impact liberation theology's new ideas would have on society and politics. Liberation theologians only gradually modified their class analysis to include other forms of subordination, such as sexism and racism. Moreover, most early feminist theology was written in the United States and Europe, emerging in Latin America only in the early 1980s. In addition, the male-dominated structure of the church itself, as well as the assumption that the main audience for liberation theology was defined by class ("the poor") helped to sharpen the scholarly focus on liberation theology's likely effect on political rather than gender-related change.

As a result, very little attention has been paid to women's role in the Popular Church, despite the fact that historically and culturally women were considered the primary bearers of religion in Latin America. As Daniel Levine points out,

"There has...been scant attention to issues of gender, such as the roles women occupy in religious symbols and structures, or the specific way in which gender affects the reception of religious or social messages" (Levine 1991, 685). Yet it seems increasingly clear that "gender turns out to be a major determinant of how messages are received and what is viewed as legitimate action" (Levine 1991, 688). Moreover, it is also plausible that women's new status, roles, and activities in the base communities contribute to changing gender attitudes and relations. It is time to reassess the Popular Church as a women's church, asking both how women's experiences and perceptions have shaped the radical project of the liberationist church and how participation in that project has affected women's lives. Such an assessment is necessary to understand fully religions potential as a force for political and cultural change in Latin America.

GENDER: MEDIATING CHANGE, CHANGING RELATIONS?

In recent years women's numerical predominance in the CEBs has received increasing recognition, so that it is now common to find references to the CEBs as primarily women's organizations, or to have note taken of women's day-to-day responsibility for carrying on the work of the Popular Church. At the same time, feminist scholars have increasingly noted the origins of many urban working-class women's movements in the Popular Church. The church is, according to some feminist scholars, one of several major strands that fed the growth of a regional women's movement during and prior to redemocratization (Jaquette 1991, 6). Yet despite this growing recognition, analysis of women in the Popular Church remains rare.

The empirical fact of women's predominance and the relative neglect of women's roles point to a serious gap in our understanding of the Popular Church. They would alone not be enough to justify a focus on gender issues. There are, however, also compelling theoretical reasons for looking at women in the Popular Church.

Gender as a Filter for Religious Experience

Liberation theology's impact is likely to occur through gradual, diffuse changes in culture, rather than through a dramatic impact on political behavior. Although it may have real long-term social implications, such diffuse change can be difficult to perceive (Levine 1992; Escobar 1992). Assessing it requires looking at the way liberationist ideas are taken up, reconceptualized, and used to generate both political behavior and new cultural attitudes in the Christian base communities. In other words, we must understand the process by which ordinary believers interpret their faith and the world in the CEBs. As noted above, there is a growing consensus that gender may be one important factor in this process of interpretation. Thus, analysis of gender as a factor is a prerequisite to answering larger questions about liberation theology. Theoretically, however, it is also a legitimate area for inquiry in its own right.

The empirical fact of women's predominance in the CEBs suggests some theoretical reasons for positing gender's importance. Throughout Latin America, women bear the burden of advancing Catholic movements—whether conservative or radica1 and carrying on the religious life of communities on a day to-day basis." Women in the base communities in Santo Antônio remembered, "When we began to get together, there were just the women." And one Salvadoran base community, reflecting on its evolution, noted, "The chapel was a place for women'' (Golden 1991, 41). Women throughout the region have a quantitatively distinct relationship to religion, participating in ritual and sacraments more, praying more, and organizing more than men.

Women's quantitatively greater religious activity suggests one important sense in which religiosity is "gendered": in Latin America, and indeed it seems throughout the Mediterranean Catholic world, religion falls into women's sphere of interests and competence despite their lack of formal authority in the church. Women are expected to be more religious and to maintain religious teachings, morals, and traditions in the home and community (Stevens 1973). The sexual division of religious labor may have implications for the way women perceive the church, religious symbolism, tradition, innovation, and so on, as well as for their higher levels of participation.

The broader cultural division of labor into a private, female sphere and a public, male one may also have an impact on women's religious experience. This possibility is glimpsed in descriptions of women as not only more actively religious but also more emotionally involved and seeking particular kinds of solace from religion:

We came together, men and women, but the women had many more troubles and pains to talk to God about. The misery is the same for everyone, but women live with it day and night, seeing the children cry from hunger, watching their stomachs swollen with worms. To them falls the care of the children with diseases that can't be cured, to them falls seeing the children die without being able to do anything. The women are the ones who know everyday that there is not enough, that there are only tortillas and salt.... She feels more deeply all the bad things and even ends up feeling guilty about them.... Sunday, in the chapel, everything could be forgotten. (Golden 1991, 41)

Here, members of a Salvadoran base community posit religion as "gendered" not only in terms of quantity but also in terms of the quality of the religious experience. The source of differential religious experiences, they suggest, lies in the different roles men and women fulfill in a gender-based division of labor. Women's socialization and their distinctive responsibilities as caregivers for the physical and psychological well-being of children, in particular, may color their religious and other life experiences in fundamental ways.

A variant on this approach stresses divergence in men's and women's psychological and moral development, whether or not these originate in a gender-based division of labor. It has become common in feminist studies, for example, to posit a "women's voice." Such a voice may or may not reflect the psychological requirements of women's gender-assigned roles. Many studies leave aside that issue altogether. In any case, certain behaviors and attitudes are described as characteristically female and as characteristic of a female interpretation and understanding of issues. Women, for example, are held to emphasize interconnectedness and interpersonal relations more than men (Gilligan 1982). They may also have a distinctive set of values stressing the preservation of life and the development of socially acceptable behavior (Ruddick 1980). They may communicate in a distinctive way that demonstrates a commitment to interpersonal interconnectedness rather than hierarchy (Tanner 1990).

Religion has not been exempt from attempts to show that interpretations from a "women's perspective" might produce substantially different readings of accepted symbols and values. Some of this literature has reflected a feminist view, described earlier, that male-dominated religions centered on a male God reinforce women's subordination because they perpetuate dependence on males and a sense of the illegitimacy of female authority (Christ 1982; Schneiders 1983). In other cases, however, authors have simply sought to demonstrate that fundamental religious concepts such as sin and salvation may be interpreted quite differently by women and men (Salving 1979).

Generally speaking this literature has remained theoretical or prescriptive rather than empirical. That is, women theologians or others have asked how a particular "male-defined" religious concept might look from women's perspective and provided an answer based on logical extrapolation from their perception of women's distinctive worldview. Such studies have rarely had recourse to surveys or interviews to ascertain whether women do, indeed, generally hold a particular, gender-identified view.

There is, however, at least some sociological evidence to support the claim that men and women interpret religious symbols differently. One study found, for example, that "girls were more likely to depict God as loving, comforting and forgiving, while boys tended to view God as a supreme power, forceful planner and controller" (Batson and Ventis 1982, 4). This difference in perception of God actually fits rather neatly with many feminist descriptions of women's "different voice." Similarly, there is some evidence to indicate that one fundamental divide in types of religiosity involves the extent to which people experience religion as an individual relationship with God (agentic) or a relationship with God through others (communal). Although it is unclear whether these categories cut across genders or capture some male-female differences, the two types initially sprang from research, which identified them as typically male (agentic) and female (communal) (Bakan 1966).

In sum, several hypotheses suggest that gender mediates religious experience, adding weight to existing studies that suggest the importance of "developing an understanding of the way gender shapes the experience of being and becoming a religious person" (Davidman and Greil 1994, 109). First, women's assignment of a particular role in a religious division of labor may influence the quantity and quality of their participation. Second, public-private distinctions and corresponding divisions of male-female roles and responsibilities may shape women's needs, interests, and perceptions in ways that influence their religious lives. Third, and more simply, women's different psychological and moral development, whatever its source, may lead them to interpret many issues and topics, including religious symbols, differently than a "male-defined" norm.

If women experience religion and religious symbolism differently than men, this could have important consequences for a project of religious-cultural change such as the Popular Church. It could lead women to interpret the new, liberationist religious symbolism in distinctive and unexpected ways. Indeed, this possibility might be particularly strong in the case of liberation theology, when a doctrine developed almost exclusively by men is propagated in communities composed of a majority of women.

The question of what happens in the CEBs when doctrine becomes lived faith, then, can be restated much more specifically: What happens to the doctrine of intellectual male clerics when it becomes the lived faith of working-class laywomen? Asking this question is essential to understanding the probable effect of liberation theology on culture and politics, as it leads us to clarify how women's attitudes and political behavior are changed by their experiences in the CEBs. It may also lead us to ask whether this experience changes women's perceptions of themselves, their roles, and male-female relations—whether women's religious and political experiences in the CEBs may not contribute to changing patriarchal as well as political and cultural values

Religion as a Shaper of Gender Relations

There is little doubt that religion is important in defining gender role attitudes and behavior. A variety of studies, particularly in the United States and other industrialized countries, have demonstrated that even in arguably more secularized countries, religion continues to play a key role in defining appropriate gender roles and relations. The fact that religion is most often identified with the private sphere may be particularly salient in legitimizing gender roles for women, since they are also culturally identified with that sphere.

Feminist writers have advanced a number of theories about the ways in which religion, particularly Christian religion, may maintain unequal, traditional gender roles and relations. Religious language that uses the "universal male" form, religious symbols that reflect ambivalence about women, male dominance in hierarchically organized religious institutions, and even the focus on a male God may exclude and delegitimize women as authorities. In addition, religious teaching often directly addresses the appropriate model of family life and in doing so has typically stressed a family division of labor in which women are identified with the private sphere.

This list is not exhaustive, but it demonstrates that feminist scholars have found numerous reasons to believe that religion reinforces traditional role expectations and women's subordination. Yet a closer examination of the list suggests that religions may differ greatly with respect to these features, so that some may offer greater opportunities for women to reassess traditional roles and empower themselves than others. Indeed, cross-denominational research carried out in North America indicates that Christian religious groups vary considerably in the extent to which they reinforce traditional gender role models (Porter and Albert 1977; Brinkerhoff and Mackie 1984 and 1985; Heaton and Cornwall 1989). More over, a static model of religion as a source of gender-role traditionalism ignores religions' evolution. Religious institutions, like others, accommodate and sometimes encourage changing social trends, including changing gender roles (Thornton 1985).

Finally, as others have noted with respect to religion's political impact, religious traditions and symbolism are rich, complex, and multifaceted. Their very complexity may facilitate women's use of religious symbols and concepts for personal and political empowerment, even within male-dominated churches. Feminist spirituality is only one possible religious route to personal empowerment for women. Women take advantage of the complexities and contradictory messages in even quite conservative religions to map out and legitimize new and empowering dimensions for their lives. Women "returning" to orthodox Judaism, for example, may utilize its rigid constructions of gender roles in ways that empower them rather than reaffirm patriarchal values and practices (Kaufman 1985). Similarly, American women Pentecostal preachers exploit the "tension between the God-given inferiority of women, submissive to men and the belief in equality before God" to pursue nontraditional roles (Lawless 1988b, 145-46). Latin American Pentecostal women also seem to follow such a path (Brusco 1986).

Reform Catholicism, as embodied in liberation theology, cannot simply be dismissed as a bearer of patriarchy. In order to assess a religion's potential for empowering women, we must seek to understand the messages and opportunities it provides for them, and the space it may provide for women to develop their own critiques and variations on religious themes. Returning to the feminist critiques of religion outlined above, we can see that there are two broad mechanisms through which religion is thought to shape gender roles: ideas and organizational structures.

We need to look at each of these areas systematically in order to see what possibilities the Popular Church offers for women's empowerment. Specifically, we need to ask about ideas: what messages does religious symbolism convey about gender roles? What are the religion's overt teachings concerning gender and family? In regard to structures: what roles and opportunities are available for women within the religious organization? What kinds of extra religious roles does the religion encourage women to take on? Are these in the private or public sphere? Answering these questions with respect to the Popular Church produces a portrait of mixed messages, but it is also one that opens at least some possibilities for women to redefine their gender roles.

Women in Christian Base Communities: The Debate

There are, then, theoretical as well as empirical reasons to analyze the interaction of religion and gender in the base communities. As the foregoing discussion suggests, that analysis may usefully be approached from two directions. First, what role does gender play in the interpretation of religious ideas and activism in the CEBs? Second, how, if at all, have the base Communities contributed to the development of gender consciousness and the empowerment of women?

The two questions are related in a variety of ways. For example, gender may affect women's mobilization in CEB-sponsored political and social movements; at the same time, participation in such public-sphere activities may have an impact on women's roles and self-image. It is also important to pay attention to the possibility of differences in women's religiosity and to ask how the nature of their religious lives and beliefs may be reflected in their attitudes toward gender relations. For these deeply religious women, it would be a mistake to assess a degree of "gender consciousness" in a vacuum, just as it is a mistake to make assumptions about CEB members, political consciousness without considering their religious beliefs. Daniel Levine's admonition to "take religion seriously" and "work outward from religious beliefs" applies as much to the assessment of gender attitudes as to the assessment of political beliefs.

These two questions—how gender mediates religious belief and how religion influences attitudes about gender roles— have usually been treated separately. In part this may reflect a division of labor between scholars of religion, who focus on the first, and feminist scholars, who tend to focus on the second. In practice this division is not nearly so neat, but it may be useful to separate the two questions here in order to describe the range of conclusions advanced so far.

Extremely little research has focused on the questions of whether and how gender might play a mediating role in the base communities. Yet these questions are crucial not only to understanding women's experiences per se, but also to developing an interpretation of the Popular Church's political and social impact. Thus far, two schools of thought have emerged in the literature. One suggests that women's high level of participation in the base communities constitutes evidence of religious traditionalism. Women are historically the main constituency for religious groups of all types and have especially been the target of movements to reassert traditional religious values. Because they are the bearers of religious tradition, women's higher level of participation may itself indicate religious traditionalism, if women are more likely to bring traditional conservative religious values to the Popular Church. From this perspective, gender is a mediating variable and one with specific consequences it deradicalizes and traditionalizes the Popular Church.

Other scholars have also hypothesized that gender acts as a filter for liberationist messages, but as Daniel Levine points out, we have little evidence of just what this filtering process consists of (Levine 1991). Some studies have suggested specific ways in which women reinterpret liberation theology, usually noting that they do so in ways that make its political content more compatible with presumed female values such as cooperation, community, and nurturance of children (Drogus 1990; Levine 1992; Burdick 1992).

Much more attention has been paid to the question of how participation in the base communities affects women's gender consciousness. Three major positions have emerged. Some writers, including many liberation theologians, portray the base communities as a unique experience offering empowerment to poor women. They stress the opportunities for leadership and the egalitarian atmosphere that the communities offer women (see Hewitt 1991, 63; Goldsmit and Sweeney 1988). Similarly, Daniel Levine points out that the groups certainly offer opportunities to otherwise marginalized women, and that these may lead to changes in their self-image and family lives (Levine 1992). Renny Golden concludes from research in E1 Salvador that faith motivates and empowers women, although she is not specific about the attributes of the base communities that contribute to this process (Golden 1991).

In contrast, although feminist scholar Sonia Alvarez recognizes that the church played a role in the evolution of the women's movement by gathering women together for political action, she contends that the church has stymied their development of gender consciousness She admits that the church may have empowered women as citizens. She argues, however, that church doctrine, symbols, and practices remain sexist, and that the church has openly hindered women's discussion of feminist issues and has excluded women from leadership roles (Alvarez 1990, 1991).

Finally, W. E. Hewitt stakes out a midrange position. He argues that the CEBs do provide substantial opportunities for women to develop leadership skills, new roles, and a nascent gender consciousness. While the Popular Church has not contributed directly to the empowerment of women and opportunities are limited, he finds that many women are able to overcome obstacles and use their experience in the CEBs to take on new roles. He concludes that women's opportunities are limited, but more substantial "than many feminist observers would admit" (Hewitt 1991, 66).

Thus, we have at least some propositions to consider with respect to both the gendered nature of religious belief in the Popular Church, and the church's impact on gender attitudes. The research to date, however, has generally not been informed by the specific theoretical considerations outlined above. Moreover, the conclusions reached have often been rather reductionist in nature, in treating certain attitudes as typically "female," rather than exploring possible differences among women. Finally, commentaries have generally focused on the implications of the liberationist church for women's liberation and have only rarely linked conclusions about the degree of women's gender consciousness with insights about their religious beliefs and political convictions. Yet base communities, despite the predominance of women, are not gender-consciousness movements. They are religious organizations with political implications. It is impossible to draw valid conclusions about their members' experiences and attitudes unless we appreciate fully the religious dimensions of their lives.

This text was excerpted from the first chapter of Women, Religion, and Social Change in Brazil's Popular Church by Carol Ann Drogus, University of Notre Dame Press, 1997, 226 pp.

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