I just read this glowing piece, “Can We Stop Misrepresenting Our Own Movement,” that stomps out the points of what I have been thinking about in my head. It’s concerning the latest call for submissions for a feminist anthology which explores sexual assault, sex, and consent. It’s getting pitched by the Feministing crowd with a title, “Yes Means Yes.”
I say YES to this article by Andrea Rubenstein. Praise the words this womyn’s got!
It got me thinking, again, about feminism.
Inspired by Sylvia in a non-public discussion, the question of when do I want to be a feminist settled my rear end into a couch.
When do I want to be a feminist?
- When I read poetry, memoirs, fire pieces by womyn of color about the movements throughout history and knowing that I am a part of it. Like carving my initials into a feminist tree, I want to write SUDY WAS HERE.
- When people genuinely ask about women and gender issues, I’m thankful to be a feminist.
- When I think about raising children.
- When I meet other rad fems who make my soul sing with their undeniable power and grace.
- When I think about womyn, poverty, backlash, and energy – I want to be a feminist.
- When I think about strength, self-definition, spirituality…mhm mhm mhm I love me some feminism.
Which leads me also to think about when I DON’T want to be a feminist.
- When I read mainstream feminists in any form – tele, radio, book, blog (especially blogs)
- When I teach students about different feminist authors who insist Betty Friedan write for all women, including womyn of color
- When feminism’s boot refuses to ease up on the throat of womyn of color and the backs of marginalized people
- When BLIND feminists are given the mic and supposedly speak for the (capital ‘m’) “Movement”
I am a feminist. I am feminist. And just as I say I am a Catholic with some SEEEEEERIOUS issues, the same is true for feminism.
But that doesn’t mean I like it everyday.