Am I a feminist? Are you?
I hear you: this is a pretty straightforward question. A couple of years ago, I would have agreed. If one defines feminism as the belief that men and women are equal, then yes, I am a feminist. Nearly everyone would claim to be. I believe that every person is of equal and infinite dignity, no matter who they are or how they identify themselves.
But this is not the current definition. This is how feminism was defined a couple of waves ago. If we take the “wave” metaphor too far, I feel like I’m watching people catch whatever wave we’re on now, hanging loose, hurtling toward the beach, while I’m bobbing up and down on my surfboard beyond the break thinking “I guess I’ll catch the next one.”
I want to be an advocate for women and a good example, but I don’t know what to say when someone asks me if I’m a feminist. It depends on your definition. Haha, how much time do you have? And when we get into it, so many people I’ve spoken to—especially young women—feel similarly alienated.
It is a collective failure that so much of modern feminism is about being rich and hot. Since when are these feminist goals? They are consumerist ones, to be sure.
We can dismiss this as merely “pop” feminism, “choice” feminism, or “girlboss” feminism, but if we get away from trendy terminology and into actual ideology, the garden-variety, dominant strain of feminist rhetoric these days can be rather alienating. So often it shows downright disdain for men, marriage, and motherhood. When I tell some people that I look forward to marriage and children, they look at me like I have two heads, or they call me a “pick-me.” What? When did wanting a loving husband and a family of one’s own become a suspicious, medieval desire? Is women’s ultimate liberation to not need anyone but themselves? Some would actually say yes.
The current feminist ideology is also cutthroat and competitive. It claims that surgically altering your body and face to fit the current trends of beauty is somehow empowering. It insists that there are no meaningful differences between men and women, mistakenly thinking that eliminating differences—rather than embracing them—will lead to equality. It promotes pornography and casual or risky sex as sacred acts of female empowerment. It blames everything on the looming, mutating patriarchy, arguably implying women are somehow inferior, robbing them of their agency before they even get started. It claims to honor diversity, but does not tolerate diversity of thought. (Or, frankly, even reasonable discussion, suggesting that women are incapable of critical, independent thinking and must do as they’re told.) And it is deeply ageist: it exalts the hot topless protestor, and in the same breath tells the middle-aged mother of three she’s not enough. If she wants to achieve her full potential, she simply must start an Etsy shop.
If this is the Feminist Creed, I cannot, in good faith, recite the lines. Do I need to believe in these things to call myself a feminist? If I don’t always agree, is there still room for me? For the many other women like me? What is a feminist and am I one of them? Are you?