On being a Birthright Friend.

I got an interesting comment on my last post. Well actually I got several interesting comments, but the one that tickled the old grey cells most was this one;

interested to hear more about what’s different about
your views as a ‘birthright’ Friend, I didn’t realise that such a concept existed
anymore! {)}

Well you’re right of course! The concept is utterly irrelevant these days, and this is a Good Thing.

From quaker.org.uk (For those of you who think I’m making up words
here);

In the past children of Quaker parents automatically became
members of the Society and were known as “birthright Friends” but
nowadays this form of membership no longer exists.

The form of membership doesn’t exist but the phrase still remains. It’s not a ‘fossil’ because the original meaning and new meaning are still within common memory and usage respectively, but it’s verging on it. These days it’s only used as shorthand for ‘person who happened to be born into a Quaker family/meeting’ which is, I hope you’ll agree, arduous and clanky.

We evolve as a society continually. This is one of the things I like about Quakerism. I’m quite chuffed about not being thrown out for marrying a non member for instance, and just this morning I happily popped on boots I love just because I love them (They’re practical too but it’s irrelevant) and the other day I wore a tshirt with a decadent splash of red on it, with no fear of being hauled up before the elders (unless they happen to run into me today and want to know where to get one themselves of course).

But we’re also creatures of habit. It takes several centuries for Britain Yearly Meeting to rid ourselves of bit of archaic language (or at least tone it down a bit. I suspect we kind of like it really sometimes). Take ‘Meeting for sufferings’ for instance. Adapted for different usage, given different meaning. Or rather kept its meaning but evolved into a phrase used to describe an utterly different circumstance. I’m personally very unhappy about losing ‘Monthly meeting’ to ‘area meetings’. I liked the link with the history that the term reminded me of.

I think its along this line of thinking that makes it ok in my mind to continue using the shorthand ‘birthright Friend’. It’s nice and quick, as ‘Convinced Friend’ is (I personally like ‘Convicted Friend’ but suspect many would disagree).

So what’s different about my views? I have no idea, I can’t possibly answer for anyone other than myself. What I CAN tell you is that being born into something gives you a different perspective than coming into something later. That’s not to say my view is in any way better or more valid – It’s certainly not – but it’s different. It’s impossible to put your finger on really. Just as if I were to move to London or America I would have a different perspective on the place to those who’d grown up there, so I think my view of the society is maybe a little different to those who came into it later. I experienced a different sort of upbringing to many because of my family’s way of life and my meeting’s input. It was, of course, again different to that of the other kids in my meeting, but there were common elements.

There was a decorated peace testimony on the wall where maybe a family from a different denomination may have placed a crucifix. My whole meeting was responsible for my upbringing, and a fantastic job they did of it too I have to say. I remember calling my Elder from Uni sobbing my heart out because my Grammar exams were out to get me, and she talked me through the stuff with no hesitation as to why I was bothering her at that time of night. Of course many churches and religions have this concept of working as a community but from my limited experience I think the tone of this may be different within the context of a Meeting. I’d like to hear what other think of this.

I was fortunate enough to go on many of the Link weekends as a teenager which had a profound effect on me. There was that certainty of belonging at that age which was a wonderful thing. It was impossible to rebel of course. Whatever you do as a quaker teenager barely raises an eyebrow unless you’re actually putting someone in danger, which luckily I was never prone to.

I think the thing I find easier that many of my more recently convinced F/friends find hard coming either from ’stricter’ religions or no religion is that I have always been given the tools to find the questions where they have often been given an answer and expected to
swallow it whether it’s relevant to them or not. Some of these Friends say they find it makes them a little giddy, the freedom to search for themselves, where I’ve always utterly taken it for granted.

Being a young Friend has its advantages and its disadvantages. I didn’t experience the C of E Sunday school education for instance, so I had no clue as to what parts of the church were called what when it came to RE lessons, which made me feel a bit daft when this was knowledge everyone else assumed to be part of some sort of cultural consciousness. I also got on the bad side of my RE teacher early on when she tried to tell the class that George Fox founded the Methodists and both myself and my best friend, a Methodist, squeaked indignantly that this wasn’t true at all actually! And while we’re on the subject of school my head of year could never tell the difference between us and the JWs. I once got pulled out of assembly because a Quaker was speaking and she thought I wouldn’t be allowed to listen!
*sigh*

But there is something special about being raised within the meeting. The communal responsibility for one another is much like growing up in a small village in Gloucestershire (Trust me, I did both). You can’t get way with anything because everyone’s equally watching out for you, but you always have people to turn to you because everyone’s always watching out for you, and as that responsibility is shared it’s also flexible enough that you develop a sense of self, independence and place within a community. I can’t speak for other upbringings but that’s one small but fantastic element of growing up within the context of a meeting. Then it’s your decision whether to stay within that community. I didn’t take out formal membership until I was 26, ten years after I was first asked if I wanted to, and in a different meeting in a different country.

So I don’t think it’s fair to say that being a birthright friend means utterly nothing, it’s just irrelevant in terms of ‘who’s better’, ‘who belongs more’, ‘who has all the answers’. But quakerism shouldn’t be, and to me isn’t, about any of these things anyway. I understand that people may find reference to ‘birthright’ quakers intimidating or cliquish, but to some extent I feel that it’s a terrible shame and unnecessary. It smacks of the nasty ‘not a real quaker’ conversation that I utterly detest, coming from either side. I don’t want to make anyone feel that they don’t belong, but equally I don’t wish to give up part of my identity, especially a part that has been so defining for me.