Women and Submission

Date: August 17, 2025

Author: Bobbi Holmes

It wasn’t until I joined TikTok about three years ago that I realized I had been raised in a bubble for most of my life. I had never stepped into far-right Christian spaces, where the women are taught to submit to their husbands, and girls who showed their legs and shoulders were held responsible for the actions of boys.

My parents never taught me that boys were superior to girls. They paid for my college education—back during a time when it was affordable. Had I been one of those women who discovered the man they married was abusive, my parents would never have told me I needed to try being a better wife. Hell no, my daddy would have never stood by while someone abused one of his daughters.

Dad had been raised by his grandparents and regularly attended a fundamental Christian church as a child. As an adult, he was an agnostic who said the Bible was written by smart men trying to control people. Mom was raised Christian Science and after she married Dad, she stopped going to church, started going to doctors, and sporadically sent my sister and me to Christian Science Sunday school, where we learned about a loving God, not one who we needed to fear.

Now back to TikTok, and why I said I was raised in a bubble. When first exploring the platform, I stumbled upon videos of people deconstructing. They were typically Mormons and Evangelical Christians. And once you’ve watched a few of those videos, the algorithm kicks in.

For a perspective on where I am coming from, I am a Boomer, yet some born the same year as me (1954) call themselves Generation Jones. I have only one sibling, a sister who I’m close to. Growing up, Mom always said Dad only wanted girls. Now that I am much older, I wonder if that is true or just something Mom said to make us feel good about ourselves. However, once I asked Dad if he ever regretted not having a son to carry on his last name. He laughed and said there are enough Johnsons out there; it wasn’t a problem.

While Dad was of the generation that believed classes like Home Economics was for girls, and Auto Shop for boys, it didn’t stop him from teaching me how to change a tire when I got my first car, nor did it keep him out of the kitchen. Dad was typically the one who cooked the main courses of our holiday meals, and while I remember him making homemade pies, I can’t remember Mom ever making one.

When I hear on TikTok how pastors in conservative churches teach the young girls about keeping their shoulders covered and hemlines lengthen, so as not to temp the boys, I remember how I spent my summers as a teenager, working in my family’s marina on Lake Havasu. I pumped gas for boats, waited on customers in our small lake-side country store, scooped minnows and waterdogs, and dumped boxes of redworms and night crawlers out to make sure they were alive before selling them to fishermen—all the while wearing a bikini. Hey, it was Havasu with summer temperatures well over a hundred, and the old store only had a swamp cooler, which meant we had to jump off the docks into the lake periodically during the day to cool off.

Despite my skimpy attire, I managed to graduate from high school without having sex, although I kissed my share of boys. Hey, I liked to kiss, and it was the sixties and seventies. My point being, I wasn’t raised to feel ashamed of my body, yet I was taught there were consequences for my actions, and since I intended to go to college, getting pregnant was not on my agenda. Marriage was also not on my immediate to-do-list. Unlike what right wing podcaster Charlie Kirk yammers on about regarding young women needing to find a husband, I didn’t go to college to find a husband. I went to get an education. When I did decide to marry my husband, it was because he was the person I wanted to spend my life with, not just because I wanted to get married.

Growing up, during my first thirteen years, Mom was a traditional stay at home mom (SAHM). She took care of the home and helped Dad in his general contracting business. Yet, unlike how I hear SAHM described by some of the younger generations on social media, Dad didn’t treat Mom like a child. They were partners. The money he earned was theirs, and they never taught me I needed to “submit” to my husband someday.

In today’s current political climate, we are seeing the prominent platforming of far-right “MAGA” Christians. One of these is Joel Webbon, a Christian Nationalist pastor from Texas. He talks about how his wife needs to ask his permission before she can read a book. Basically, he treats her like a child.

Maybe it’s the absurdity of it all for me. I can’t imagine my mom ever asking Dad for permission in what she could read. And my husband would look at me like I had lost my mind if I asked for his permission to read a specific book.

Plus, Webbon is a young whippersnapper from this old woman’s perspective. The boy is younger than my daughter, and he presumes to be such a wise sage that he can guide the women in his life. Malarkey.

I believe—and I am serious, not just being a smart ass—that wanting to submit to your husband, or wanting your wife to submit to you is nothing more than a sexual kink wrapped up in a false interpretation of the scriptures. While I don’t kink shame—what goes on between two consenting adults is their business—when people like Webbon or that women-shouldn’t-vote-Pet-Hegseth’s-Pastor-Doug-Wilson, wants to legislature their fetishes into the mainstream I have a problem.

Now, if you want to argue I am wrong about this being a false Biblical interpretation, stop. It doesn’t really matter whose interpretation is accurate. The last time I looked, the First Amendment prohibits our government from establishing a religion. Therefore, if your reason for wanting to take away women’s right to vote is based on your interpretation of the Bible, I suggest you reread the First Amendment.

However, if you believe a penis means a person possesses more intelligence and wisdom than a person with a uterus, you are in fact an idiot. There are brilliant and capable men—just as there are brilliant and capable women. There are also incompetent and mentally deficient men and women.

So yeah, I can’t imagine telling my granddaughter that someday she needs to submit to her husband, and he is the head of the household, the one to make all the final decisions.

And you know what? I equally would not tell my grandson that someday his wife needs to submit to him, and he needs to make the final decisions.

That is equally damning to both men and women. I remember back before I was married, thinking it was not fair for men to shoulder the financial responsibility of the family alone. I never wanted to marry someone so he could take care of me. I only wanted to marry when I found a partner I could spend my life with. Fortunately, I found that.

If you treat your spouse like a child—if you allow your spouse to treat you as a child, well, that is just weird. And kind of creepy. But if you are both of legal age, it is your business. But please, stop trying to push that on the rest of the country. It’s just icky.

Happy 46th Anniversary Don!

Date: June 18, 2022

Author: Bobbi Holmes

Categories: Bobbi Ann Johnson Holmes

Comments: 10 Replies

There is a reason time flies, and where does the time go are cliches. It’s because they are so true. Today Don and I are celebrating our 46^th Anniversary. We met fifty years ago—a half a century. I’ve been with Don for almost 75% of my life. And we keep repeating those cliches, because they are so true.

I met Don at the end of my senior year in high school, over Easter break. He had come out to Havasu Palms with his roommate, Gary Morris. Gary was one of my close friends, who often came to Havasu Palms where his aunt and uncle had a vacation trailer.

I was dating someone else at the time, so we didn’t really get together until I went into Covina, California, to shop for a prom dress. While there, we went to see Gary and since Don was one of Gary’s roommates, I saw him for the second time. And as another cliché goes, the rest is history.

We’ve had both good times and bad times, struggles and successes. It’s been an adventure and from it we had two wonderful children, who we are immensely proud of—and we feel blessed that we also love and respect our son and daughter-in-law. And of course there is our granddaughter and grandson. Being a grandparent is absolutely the best.

I suppose one of the many things about Don that I love, he never expected me to be less, so he could feel like more. He’s always been my champion and there when I needed support.

I love you Don, and Happy Anniversary.

Bobbi

Real Life Character Development

Date: May 17, 2018

Author: Bobbi Holmes

Categories: Bobbi Ann Johnson Holmes

Comments: 1 Reply

I suspect authors who write successful stories involving relationships tend to be people watchers or amateur phycologists—the kind of person who tries to figure out what factors shape people or as the cliché says, what makes them tick. Or what makes them tick in a certain way.

Our relationships with others shape who we are. Take marriage for example. Two people get together and marry, and it’s a good bet that ten years later each person from that marriage will be a different person from who they were before they met their spouse—even if the marriage dissolves before the ten-year mark—different from how they might have been had they married someone else.

I can see it in my own children. I see ways my daughter is a slightly different person because of her relationship with our son-in-law, and the same is true of our son and his wife. I am sure their spouses have also changed, yet from my viewpoint it’s impossible to say how.

What we hope for is that the spouses complement each other—or bring out the best traits in their mate. Unfortunately, some couple combinations are toxic, and they bring out the worse in each other—like Bonnie and Clyde.

When young and in-love we don’t always see the potential for a toxic relationship—such as one that might turn abusive down the road—yet those signs are probably there.

When I dated one of my first boyfriends I remember him saying, “A girlfriend of my will never own her own car.” I was about 14 at the time and remember thinking to myself, “Well, I guess we won’t be dating in two years when I get my license.” I didn’t argue with him or debate the subject. I simply kept quiet and figured when that time came, we would not be together anyway.

However, an older and wiser me realizes that was a major red flag. This was a person who wanted to control his girlfriend. Had I foolishly fallen hopelessly in love with him (or imagined I had as girls do at that age) could I have allowed him to shape me into a submissive version of myself?

There was another red flag in that relationship. I remember once he overheard a conversation I’d had with one of my parent’s friends. The friend had asked me about my plans for the future. I went on to tell how I was going to college and spoke of all the things I wanted to do—none of which included this boyfriend or any relationship for that matter.

Later, my boyfriend scolded me for what I had said, telling me I was too boastful—over confident. I will admit I felt embarrassed and asked myself, “Had I spoken out of turn? Spoken too freely of my dreams?”

Fortunately, we broke up by the end of that school year, and the next year I changed high schools.

Had I married someone like that, I suspect I would be a very different person today. Although, I would like to think I wouldn’t have stayed with a controlling man. Yet, can I really say that? Can anyone? Other circumstances surrounding us at the time we come to that road might have more to say about the outcome or how we respond than what’s in our hearts.

I never thought about it when I was a young girl, but I do believe we should be diligent in our close relationships. We need to look for those red flags and avoid going down a road we may later regret.

The man I married is worlds apart from my first boyfriend. I married a man whose ego does not require me to be less so he can feel like more. And for that, I am every day grateful.

The writer in me probably thinks about these things a little more than the non-writer, because I am always mindful of what shapes those characters chattering away in my head. But, it might be a good idea for teenagers to be more aware of those red flags in potential relationships. It might save them a world of heartache. Of course, that probably won’t happen, because teenagers—and adults alike—like to imagine they can change someone. Yet they forget, in the process they too change.