this one

and the daughter of creation, of creator,

of the name her begrudging husband prayed to,

became a coin exchanged for labor.

this one,

her father said.

leah wanted

to be loved by her husband, probably

wanted her father to give a shit, too.

the tent closed itself around her

and she was held and loved

for the one night she

was mistaken for another.

leah wanted

to be loved, and became

instead a punishment. became a mother

to lesser children, lesser because hers.

finish with

this one, her father said.

When I was in college I spent a quarter defending what seemed to me the right of men to exist at all. It was a feminist theory class, and as the only outspoken and happily hetero woman there, I took a beating. I should mention that I am well aware of the great many lesbians who do not hate men. However, my introduction to their world was blatantly anti-male. I am and always have been exuberantly pro-male (perhaps too exuberantly at times), and the inability of anyone to not find men perfectly, heart-breakingly beautiful struck me at the time as willful and in defiance of the evidence.

Which is all to say, I came from a somewhat naively loving attitude towards men.

I remain convinced of the need all humans have of one another, regardless of sexual specifics, and I probably also remain somewhat willful myself in my persistent adoration of men. But the story of Leah and Jacob only grows worse in my eyes as I get older. The very thought of a woman spending the majority of her life longing and praying for her own goddamn husband to love her, and being denied the gratification of such a simple wish, is gut-wrenching to me. And make no mistake: Leah's story in the chapters skipped over by the liturgy is nothing short of tragic.

I have no concrete reason for thinking that the creators of the lectionary skipped over the most painful parts of Leah's story intentionally. I do, however, find it somewhat disgusting that the next we hear of Jacob in the mass is from his glamorous "wrestling with God" moment. I might ask for a similar "begging of God" story for Leah. It is a plea which Jacob never deigns to answer.

I sometimes try harder to find some redemption in a woman's story - a glimmer of hope, a perspective that shows she was not as powerless as she might appear at first glance - but in Leah's case, I would be lying to my own heart. Jacob and Laban behave reprehensibly towards a woman who was placed by God into their care. I can only pray that I never treat any one of God's creatures in such a manner.