Feminist

It’s International Women’s Day! The one day a year that prompts us to reflect on our own experiences as women and evaluate the current state of feminism in our society.

My thoughts when it comes to this topic are very scattered. I mean, I’m a woman. I feel everyday. I sometimes take time to process those feelings logically but many times just channel my emotions into a good cry. But I do want to start with a few anecdotes about my life growing up as a girl. Because that’s where it all begins.

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When I was younger my dad sent me back into my room to change my outfit. I was wearing a v-neck T-shirt and he told me women can’t dress like that in public because other people will judge me for being indecent. I was probably 12. Ever since then I’ve always had to think twice about the way I dress and present myself, feeling some type of guilt for wanting to wear a skirt. I felt like it was my responsibility to cover up and not distract boys with my body.

Although I grew up washing dishes and doing laundry, before I left for college my mom made sure I knew how to do housework. She told me it wasn’t important for boys to know these things, but as a girl, I had to learn to be “good wife material.” I was taught to shrink myself in the presence of my dad and cater to his mood.

When I got my period, I was to never let the world know about my “female problems.” My mom taught me to hide my pads and tampons in discreet little pouches like my period was a shameful dirty secret. During high school P.E. swim classes, we had to turn in signed notes from our parents to be excused from swimming during our periods. The notes always read some bullshit like “My daughter doesn’t feel well this week” but the P.E. teachers understood. We just couldn’t say it outright.

When I was in college I was afraid to be a “feminist” because I never wanted to hate men. I knew girls who spent so much time on social media calling out microaggressions that triggered them everyday. I didn’t want to spent all my time overanalyzing everything every man said to me so I never embraced myself as a feminist.

Even when I started working my first big girl job and an unqualified white male got promoted to manage me, my mom told me to learn different skills because I can’t beat him at this game. “That’s just the way things are,” she tells me. I was just supposed to take whatever came at me and compromise myself.

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For my parents and older generations it was normal for women to expect to aspire to marriage. Even though my mom was a feminist in her academia world, having worked her way to the top of the class in a room full of boys, she still held and passed down these gender beliefs that prescribe how my sister and I should be. To be “good wife material” you must like to do housework. My parents wanted, and still want us, to do it all. Be crazy successful in our careers, find the perfect husband, be good and attractive. They raised us to break glass ceilings in our careers but at the same time expect us to be cooking, cleaning, thinking about marriage and babies.

Clearly I don’t have an answer to this, nor am I wanting to call my mom out on her impossible expectations for the millionth time. But it’s going to take a long time to unlearn the lessons of gender I internalized as a girl growing up, and I’m happy to have started this journey.

I do love being a woman. I love being able to express my full range of emotions, especially to Simon who patiently listens even though he doesn’t know how to respond to my often unpredictable outbursts. I love digging deep into my insecurities and sharing my vulnerability with other women who feel the same internal struggles and anxieties. I love being close with my girl friends and basically having mini therapy sessions every time we hang out.

I also want to work harder at being a feminist. I want to recognize who I am and what I want to do, and be myself without fear of judgment for not doing the “right things” as a young woman. I want to explore the world instead of learn to cook. I want to work harder to make money instead of spend time cleaning. I want to be good without having to compete with the women around me. I want to do my thing without having to impress anyone or prove myself to them. The only person who can truly validate me is myself.

“We teach girls to shrink themselves, to make themselves smaller. We say to girls, you can have ambition, but not too much. You should aim to be successful, but not too successful. Otherwise, you would threaten the man.”

— Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

With that said I want to leave some movies for y’all to indulge in that I believe tell an amazing narrative from a woman’s perspective. Movies and TV deeply influence the way we see the world and I think it’s obvious and degrading when a female-led story is written by a male screenwriter who portrays the protagonist as a shallow prop. I love stories with rich complex characters who are in touch with their emotions and solve problems in a sensitive way using their compassion and humanity (the true superpower).

In no particular order: