CAN YOU SPOT THE RUBBISH FEMINIST?
I am a feminist, and you are a feminist. Or at least you should be. Because to identify as a feminist is to recognise that women warrant the same social, economic, and political rights and opportunities as any other human being.
Argue against that. I dare you.
The problem is, there are many ways to be a feminist, and there are a lot of people who think some of those ways are a bit rubbish. And I’m one of them.
For some, feminism has become synonymous with man-hating. Recently, an article in the Independent revealed that many men experience lasting psychological trauma at the birth of their children. Many feminists did not respond well: we had women who argue against women being denied things, denying men their feelings. Not helping ladies.
That’s not to say there isn’t deeply embedded misogyny in our society, and that men do, generally, have the upper hand in our culture. But man-bashing isn’t the way to fix things. Man-bashing just ends up skewing feminist intentions, with women making heartfelt cases often being seen and reported as being angry. Feminists are never portrayed as passionate. Feminists are never described as driven. Just angry.
Obviously, that’s a lazy stereotype; all feminists aren’t always angry. But there does seem to one trope that feminism has bought in to: feminists are serious.
To be fair, there is a lot to be serious about: from women not being allowed to drive in some countries in the Middle East, to the UK Parliament being incredibly patriarchal. But I have a confession …
I’m not always serious. I love pink and purple, and I read a disturbing number of romantic novels. You know, girly stuff.
That’s right, I like things millions of other women like. And I’m also a feminist. But girly stuff isn’t serious. So, what does that make me? Am I a rubbish feminist? Or a rubbish woman?
I strive to be self-governing, but I also want someone to take care of me and look after me. Does that negate my desire for equality?
And if I’m so deeply passionate about gender equality, should I know more about boys’ stuff? For instance, I know little about football. I never know who’s playing, who the opposition is, what way they’re scoring, who’s home ground they’re competing at, why they’re paid a ridiculous amount of money for kicking a ball around on grass, or why so many of them seem to fall over so easily.
But here’s the thing. I don’t need to.
I don’t need to like (or understand) male pursuits. I don’t need to act like a male. I don’t need to hate males. I just wish several of them would treat women in a more honourable way, then I wouldn’t have to relentlessly call them out. And I wish I didn’t have to be so serious so often. And I wish I didn’t have embedded in my head that a feminist is a certain type of woman.
Feminism is renowned to be revolved around independence. For me, not so much. For me, feminism is choice and the right to choose. It doesn’t matter if you’re a lady who wears long skirts, high neck blouses and big boots in summer, or a woman who wears practically nothing on a magazine cover. Your body, your choice. But whatever you choose, don’t slate others for doing what they choose. None of us is perfect; we’re all different, and we’re entitled to equality.
At the end of the day, I’m a feminist, and, I’m also myself. If that makes me a terrible feminist, so be it. I’d much rather be a rubbish feminist, than not be one at all.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Mia Hesdon is a confident 17 year old girl who has always had a passion for writing. In 2016 Mia came second in the Jack Petchey Speak Out Challenge Surrey Region, her speech was on one of her main passions; Feminism.
Mia hopes one day to become a serious journalist, and perhaps even a presenter on television. Her articles on PassionforthePlanet.com are her first step to achieving this dream.