For the past few weeks, I have been obsessed with finding as much information as possible about fringe religious groups.  The most interesting of the bunch, in my opinion, has been the Quiverfull movement. I’ll refrain from saying too much here about the ideals of those involved since … well … I’m not into being set ablaze for the Lord.  Whether or not you’re aware though, you’ve probably already been exposed, thanks to TLC and their love of the Duggar family.

This morning I came across a parody page (at least, I was really hoping it was a parody!) touting the benefits of quiverfull living for secular feminists.   I was just so moved by what I read (read: ROFLMAO) that I had to type up a quick email showing my support:

Reverse Quivering: The Answer to my Question!

I was sitting at home yesterday and I was alone.  I am always alone at home but, to be fair,  I’m rarely at home.  It was Saturday night and all of my friends as well as some of the other women from my office were going out to a hotel bar.  I was ready to go out with them – wearing a black dress, black heels and my Blackberry was in it’s case in my black Coach embossed python tote.  Despite this being a Saturday night ritual since graduating university 8 years ago, I could not motivate myself to head out.  I was overwhelmed with sadness.  At least I think it was sadness.  You see, I’m an empowered woman living life in the fast lane on he track leveled out for us by women generations before.  I work as a high powered corporate person making big ticket corporate purchases and deciding things that effect other people in my social and economic sphere.  Unlike the sappy housewives of the 50′s, there is no time for emotion in my life.  This isn’t Sex in the City!  I work 60 hours a week!  So I thought it may be sadness but I wasn’t sure so I pretended to have a 24-hour virus and texted all my girlfriends the news.

That was last night.

This morning I had an email from my grandmother, and while I tend to ignore those (they range between “when are you gonna meet a man?” and “make me a great-grandchild – and not a test tube grand-baby like your mother did!”), I was somehow drawn to open this one.  I’m so glad I did!  Her email was simply a link to your website and an emoticon where a little smiley guy was on his knees with his hands clasped in a begging gesture.

I’ve seen the light!  As soon as I read your words I felt a warmth fill my heart … or maybe it was my tits, which would be a maternal thing, right?  Either way, I was moved and I’ve decided what I want to do with my life.  How better to spread my feminist, work-hard-play-hard ideals than to breed a bunch of little clones?

As it all settled in, my affection for the idea turned into anxiety.  Where does one meet a secular quiverfull man?  All of the men I know had vasectomies straight out of college and have so many mistresses that they’d never have time for me and the kids.  Perhaps you should start a dating section on your site.  Also, a forum so we could share homeschool ideas (Unschool?  Waldorf?  Something new for us in the movement; something Steinem inspired?).  What letter do you suggest I start all of my progeny’s names with?  I was thinking “M” so I could have both “Madyson” and “Mackynzie” but I’m lost after that.  Should our family uniform be made by D&G or so I go off the rack?  I’m thinking black.

Thank you for opening my eyes to opening my uterus.  I can’t wait for my new life to start.  Having a quiverfull is going to be so freeing, I can feel it already!

I’m still hoping the site is a parody since the comedian behind the keyboard posted my letter.  If not, I may have inadvertently set myself up for a whole new type of witness knocking on my door!