Feminism, Man.

by Michelle

TL;DR – I’m talking about feminism, and I hope you’ll read it and appreciate my thoughts.

I think I have always been a feminist, even in the days before I really knew what that meant. I was raised by my father to be opinionated, smart, brash, and an asshole. Although, I don’t know if at the time he knew that he was creating a tiny feminist. Frankly, I have always pushed societal boundaries, just asked the cousin I tried to kiss when I was six. I have always been a person that believes in being themselves, and doesn’t fucking care if anyone likes it. That’s not to say I don’t have normal insecurities and want people to like me, but I assume that the ones that do like me are the right people for me, and the ones that don’t, do not really matter. I am strong, I am annoyingly independent — I wouldn’t let my boyfriend carry a box into my apartment for me a couple of weeks ago because I could “DO IT MYSELF, ANDY” — I have supported myself for many years now, and stand up for myself and anyone I love. I believe fiercely in the equality of all humans — except gingers — and don’t understand sometimes, how another woman could say she isn’t feminist. I think Amy Poehler said it best when she spoke of women non-feminists:

“That’s like someone being like, ‘I don’t really believe in cars, but I drive one every day and I love that it gets me places and makes life so much easier and faster and I don’t know what I would do without it.”‘

HELLO! All of the freedoms you enjoy, are thanks to feminism and brave feminists!

The point of all this, I suppose, is that I have been feeling EXTRA feminist lately, and I am angry. I am angry that as a 26 year old unmarried woman, I have to explain my choices to anyone. I am angry that anyone would even ASK why I am on birth control, as if it fucking matters, and that they think it might somehow be their business whether I am on it for medical or sexual reasons. I am angry that myself and a majority of my friends have been raped, gray area or otherwise, and have to suffer through it silently lest we be called sluts or asked what we did to cause it. I am angry that I have to explain to people why rape jokes aren’t funny, and that this recent New York Times piece, left me and many of my friends shaking and in tears. I am angry that a girl, barely 18, had to be made into a case study for anyone to start listening, and that her innocence was taken away from her. I am angry that what most men fear about going to prison, all women fear in the short walk home at night. I am angry that when I am forceful and straight forward, I am called a bitch and when I get angry about that, I am told I am being irrational. I am angry that anyone thinks it’s okay to comment on my body as I walk down the street. I am angry that men keep trying to make misandry a thing; it fucking isn’t a thing, so please shove your fedora wearing head up you ass. But here is what I am most angry about: That women are too quick to disassociate themselves from feminism, and have seemingly stopped supporting each other. 

I am very lucky to have some wonderful women in my life that support me fully and vice versa. But I really wish women as a whole would stop being so spiteful towards each other, and stop shaming one another. We will never become the equals we so rightfully deserve to be if we keep allowing men to pit us against one another. If we keep letting them make hot lady lists and decided that curvy vs skinny is a thing. I don’t need to shame skinny women to know that I am a babe. Be fat! Be skinny! Have three legs! who cares?

We are all humans, lets start treating each as such.

I have A LOT more to say about this, but not all my idea are fully formed, so I will stop here.

Anderson out.