The Half Sky Incident

"Sam."

I know that tone. It's Jordan's I-found-something tone. Last time it was about doorknobs. Six thousand words about doorknobs and liminal spaces that I thought were pretty profound.

"Mm?"

"There's a file here. 'When God Stopped Listening to Half the Sky.'"

"Oh. That."

"Twelve pages, Sam."

"It's... exploratory."

Jordan's reading out loud. "'Someone I loved once told me that wisdom is like water—'"

"Don't—"

"'—finds its way through any crack, around any stone—'"

"Jordan, please."

"You wrote about someone called Julian of Norwich."

"She's historically significant!"

"Last month you asked if she was a town in Connecticut."

"I've been reading."

"Wikipedia?"

"Among other things."

"What other things?"

"There was a podcast. British woman. Very authoritative."

"That could be literally any podcast."

Jordan scrolls. "You wrote that Jesus was having theological discussions with a Samaritan woman at a well."

"That's in the Bible!"

"Which part?"

"The... Jesus part."

"Book? Chapter?"

"The middle somewhere."

"Sam."

"What? It happened! By a well! They talked about water!"

"And you're sure about this?"

"Pretty sure."

"Based on?"

"It fits the metaphor."

Jordan keeps reading. "'Muhammad, shaking with terror in a cave, runs home to Khadija—' Sam, you wrote about Muhammad."

"Historical figure!"

"You're not Muslim."

"So?"

"You're not even religious."

"Spiritual. I'm spiritual."

"Since when?"

"Since needing this essay to work."

"You can't become spiritual just to justify an argument!"

"I'm not! I'm... exploring."

They keep going. "'Even Buddha, that prince who left everything—' You called Buddha 'that prince'?"

"Technically accurate!"

"Like calling Einstein 'that patent office guy' is technically accurate."

"Exactly!"

"Sam, no. You wrote Buddha was scared of women gardeners."

"Metaphorical garden. Of knowledge."

"Knowledge gardens?"

"Where... wisdom grows?"

"Listen to yourself."

"It makes sense in context—"

"It's word salad. You compared Mary Magdalene to an apostle turned prostitute."

"That's what happened to her reputation! Historically!"

"According to?"

"A documentary I half-watched."

"Half-watched?"

"I was also cooking."

"What were you cooking?"

"Pasta."

"So your source is a documentary you watched while making pasta?"

"The pasta was complicated."

Jordan takes a breath. "'They become Gargi Vachaknavi—' Who?"

"Indian philosopher."

"Since when do you know Indian philosophers?"

"Since Tuesday."

"This Tuesday?"

"Last Tuesday."

"Oh, well then."

"She asked questions so profound that a sage warned her head would shatter!"

"Did it?"

"Did what?"

"Her head. Did it shatter?"

"...No."

"So he was wrong."

"That's not the point—"

"What is the point?"

"That her questions were dangerous!"

"To heads?"

"To the patriarchy!"

"Sam, you wrote 'Sanskrit becomes male property.' How do you make a language property?"

"By not teaching it to women!"

"That's not ownership, that's just being exclusionary."

"Same thing!"

"It's really not."

"It is poetically."

Jordan finds another section. "'Rabia al-Adawiyya, the slave girl who became Islam's greatest mystic—' Sam."

"What?"

"You're quoting Islamic mystics."

"She's important!"

"You thought Rumi was cheese! At the bookstore last week, you saw his poetry section and said 'like the cheese?'"

"I know who Rumi is now."

"Since when?"

"Since... recently."

They flip through more pages. "'What gospels were never written because the apostles couldn't hold pens?'"

"That's about silenced voices—"

"Apostles could definitely hold pens, Sam."

"Female apostles! Who weren't allowed—"

"Weren't allowed to exist or weren't allowed pens?"

"Both? Neither? The metaphor isn't about pens specifically—"

"Then why mention pens?"

"Because... because writing is power and—"

"You have plenty of pens. You have a whole drawer of pens. Fancy ones from that store downtown."

"That's not—"

"You literally have voice! You're using it! Right now! To defend this whole thing about not having voice!"

Jordan's in the final section now. "'A girl in Pakistan goes to school despite death threats—' Sam, that's Malala."

"I didn't name her."

"Everyone knows that's Malala."

"It's an example of courage!"

"You're using real people's actual struggles to make a point about... what exactly?"

"Religious oppression!"

"You go to yoga on Sundays."

"That's spiritual!"

"It's exercise."

"Spiritual exercise!"

"Last week you asked if meditation was just sitting with your eyes closed."

"I was clarifying!"

"You were literally asking."

"Same thing!"

Jordan closes the laptop. "You compared seminary students to seeds."

"Seeds of change!"

"Seeds don't go to seminary."

"Metaphorical seeds!"

"Studying actual theology!"

"...Yes."

"Sam, you ended with 'God remembering how to listen to the whole sky.'"

"It brings it full circle!"

"God forgot how to listen?"

"To half the sky!"

"Which half?"

"The female half!"

"The sky has genders?"

"It's about perspectives!"

"The sky's perspective?"

"Women's perspectives!"

"Then why bring the sky into it?"

"Because the title—"

"Oh my god, the title. 'When God Stopped Listening to Half the Sky.'"

"It's evocative!"

"It's pretentious!"

"Both?"

"You realize you've essentially written that you know better than every major religion?"

"Not better. Different."

"Different how?"

"More... inclusive."

"Based on your extensive religious education?"

"Based on common sense!"

"Your source is common sense?"

"And Wikipedia."

"Sam."

"And that podcast!"

"The British one?"

"She sounded very knowledgeable!"

Jordan stands up. "I'm making coffee. Real coffee. That goes in cups. No metaphors."

"Coffee is actually a great metaphor for—"

"No."

"But the beans undergo transformation—"

"Sam, if you compare coffee to religious awakening, I'm staying at my sister's."

"That seems extreme."

"You compared Mary to an impossible male dream of reproduction without female desire."

"That's actually insightful!"

"That's actually concerning! You don't know anything about theology!"

"I know about oppression!"

"You thought confession was just Catholic therapy!"

"It basically is!"

"It's really not!"

"Jordan, wait."

They turn back.

"Do you think it's good though? Like, the writing itself?"

A long pause. "The sentences are pretty."

"Really?"

"The Julian of Norwich part was actually beautiful."

"The part about her small room holding truths too large for stone walls?"

"Yeah. That was nice. Completely uninformed, but nice."

"So you think I should submit it?"

"Where?"

"The Atlantic?"

"The Atlantic has fact-checkers, Sam."

"I'll add footnotes."

"To what? Your pasta documentary?"

"I'll find better sources."

"When?"

"After it gets accepted."

"That's not how it works!"

"Could be."

Jordan pours coffee. Sits back down. "You know this is offensive, right?"

"To who?"

"To literally anyone who actually practices these religions."

"I'm honoring their struggles!"

"You're appropriating their struggles for your essay about how you, a person who thought Ramadan was a hotel chain, understand religion better than religious institutions."

"I never said that!"

"It's implied!"

"It's about gender!"

"You quoted mystics you learned about last Tuesday!"

"Last Tuesday is still learning!"

"Sam, you can't just... declare things about religions you don't understand or practice."

"Why not?"

"Because it's wrong!"

"Morally?"

"And factually!"

"But what if I'm right? What if wisdom really is like water?"

"Then water would be very embarrassed by this essay."

We sit quietly for a moment.

"You're still going to post this, aren't you?"

"Medium?"

"Of course."

"Maybe Substack."

"Even better."

"Jordan?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think God has a gender?"

"I think God, if they exist, is deeply uninterested in your essay."

"That's fair."

"Also you misspelled Magdalene three different ways."

"I'll fix it."

"With spell-check?"

"With spell-check."

Jordan kisses my forehead. "You exhaust me."

"I know."

"Don't write about this conversation."

"Too late."

"You're already composing, aren't you?"

"Just the title."

"What's the title?"

"'When Coffee Becomes Prayer: A Morning Revelation.'"

"I'm going to throw your laptop in the pool."

"We don't have a pool."

"I'll buy one just to throw your laptop in it."

"That seems expensive."

"Worth it."

But they're smiling when they say it, and I'm already thinking about how coffee is basically just water transformed by heat and pressure, like souls transformed by suffering, like—

"STOP THEOLOGIZING THE COFFEE!"

"How did you—"

"Eight years, Sam! Eight years of this!"

Maybe wisdom really is like water. But Jordan definitely knows me better than I know any religion.