The first time I said it out loud, it took courage. It felt weird, a bit risky and daring. I was trying the word on, like a little girl trying on her mother’s shoes, to see if it fit me: feminist. And it did fit, it grew to fit beautifully, and so I turned this way and that, admiring the way the word clung to my voice and my thoughts and my work like we belonged together.
I’m a feminist.
Even now, all these years later, when I say the word in my “of-course” tone of voice, it can be met with disbelief or nervous laughter or raised eyebrows and, almost always, surprise.
Because really? a feminist, eh? so what kind of feminist are you? Meaning: Are you angry? Are you bitter? Are you a lesbian? What’s your stance on abortion? Are you against marriage and motherhood? Are you “one of those feminists” responsible for everything evil I’ve heard about feminists from Christian culture radio shock-jocks and straw man arguments on Sunday mornings? After all, we’ve heard feminism blamed for everything from day care to rape, bikinis to tornadoes, abuse to childhood obesity.
What kind of a feminist are you?
It’s a fair question. So here is my answer… Read the rest of this post at SheLoves Magazine.