A mother. A daughter. A topic.
Me.
I consider myself to be a feminist but I honestly don’t think about it very often.
It’s just a part of who I am.
When I was a teenager, the fight for the Equal Rights Amendment (ERA) was in full force. My mother was an adamant supporter of the ERA and attended public rallies and marches to push the cause forward (with me in tow), but the movement took another turn toward public policy, instead of a constitutional amendment.
Even so, the effect on our family was dramatic.
Until then, we had been a pretty traditional family. Dad went to work. Mom stayed home. The kids kept quiet.
And then my mom started listening to the Gloria Steinem’s and Jane Fonda’s of the movement, and soon after…we all became feminists. My dad, my mom, my brother and me.
It changed the way we thought about traditional roles and responsibilities.
We adopted new ways of thinking and new ways of acting toward each other. As a consequence, the stereotypical roles of women and men in a family, in business, in politics and in life in general, began to explode wide open.
And for the first time, I was told – OUT LOUD – that as a woman…I could do anything. Be anything. Want anything. And from that…my potential – my future – was blown wide open.
So to me, a feminist is someone who:
- Thinks a woman offers value to the world, as a woman.
- Doesn’t believe a woman must compete to BE a man…because BEING a woman is perfect as it is.
- Believes women are fully capable of doing anything they want to do, assuming they are willing to work at it to become proficient.
- Believes that compensation should be paid fairly for the quality of work done…regardless of sex.
- Strives to be tolerant of others and expects tolerance in return.
- Believes there is no such thing as inequality between the sexes…just lovely differences that offer value and fullness to both.
Being a feminist is a part of who I am. I don’t think about it. I don’t feel I have to fight for it. But I have spent my entire adult life trying to honor the gift of feminism that was given to me by my parents and by the times.
I don’t take it for granted. I guard it with my life. And I raised my children to be feminists so that they would be the type of people who tolerated others, believed in equality and realized that they could do anything, be anything and want anything, regardless of their sex.
So far, I think I’ve done a damn good job with that one!
I have my degree in Women and Gender Studies from the University of Colorado. I didn’t choose that as my major because of the crazy amount of career opportunities (obviously). I chose it as my major because I loved it. I loved studying people and society, and the things that we all do that we don’t even think about. I loved looking at the world through a different set of lenses. A pair that’s more attuned to the rights and wrongs that we all commit. A pair that sees things differently than most people.
That lens, most of the time, was Feminism.
Being a Women and Gender Studies major got me a lot of shit. I heard every joke and rude comment in the book.
“Oh really? I studied women in college too.”
“So is that, like, sewing and cooking and stuff?”
“Does that mean you’re a lesbo?”
I think that the term “Feminist” scares a lot of people. I met lots of people in college who hated that word, for a variety of reasons. Some hated it because, in their mind, it was too radical. Some hated it because it was too “hippie”. Others wouldn’t use it because, originally, Feminism (First Wave) was incredibly racist. And some held the idea that Feminism was something to hate, to look down on, to not take seriously.
I learned dozens of definitions of types of Feminism (most of which I forget because I loathed my Feminist Theory class… I am in no way claiming to be an expert). And I learned what “being a Feminist” means to me.
And there’s a big, huge point I’d like to make about Feminism.
I truly believe that it’s about more than just a definition that somebody else makes for you. It’s more than a one-size-fits-all label.
It’s what you make it.
Of course, I believe that there are certain things that Feminism must include. Most notably the belief that women and men are created equal.
(NOTE: I’m not saying women and men are the SAME. That’s an important distinction.)
The other thing that all definitions of Feminism must have, I believe, is the belief in a woman’s right to choose.
Now, I’m not JUST talking about abortion, here. I’m talking about Choice for everything.
Which brings me to my personal definition of Feminism.
I believe that women have the right to choose anything that they feel is right for them. As long as that choice doesn’t hurt others (and let me be clear that I do not include “fetus” in the definition of “others”), then I believe that women have that right. (I also believe that men have that right, but I feel like we rarely deny (straight) males their right to choose.)
If a woman wants to have babies and marry her high school sweetheart, that’s her choice.
If a woman chooses NOT to have kids, or to never get married, that’s her choice.
If a woman wants to join the army, become a teacher, a lawyer, or model, that’s her choice.
If a woman wants to dye her hair, pierce her nose, go barefoot, or never wear a bra, so be it.
And, what a woman does with or to her body, is HER CHOICE.
When it comes down it, THAT is feminism.
Treating women any less than men is inherently NOT Feminist. Believing that women should strive to be men is inherently NOT Feminist. Hurting women is inherently NOT Feminist. Judging women because they are women is inherently NOT Feminist. Being racist, homophobic, or classist is inherently NOT Feminist.
Of course, it’s much more complicated than that. We can debate whether or not a woman can actually choose to be in adult films, or get paid for sex. And we can debate whether or not a Feminist can be a conservative Christian or stay in an abusive relationship. There are even theories that one cannot be a Feminist and eat meat.
(Me and my salami sandwich tend to disagree with that one, but still…)
But I’m not here to debate.
At least not right now.
I grew up in a household that never overtly defined itself as “Feminist”, even though we all are. My personal definition of Feminism includes components and beliefs that I’ve been taught my entire life. Equality. Choice. The right of every single person to live in a safe environment.
I never had to question those things. They were the rules of my world. It wasn’t until I got to my later years of high school, and then college, that I realized that everyone isn’t raised with the same values. That there are (lots and lots) of people out there who are AGAINST all of those things. I think it really hit me when my family and I (plus Mike) went to D.C. for the March for Women’s Lives. Walking through the capitol, having very angry MEN yell that I was a horrible person, really made it clear to me that my family wasn’t the norm.
And I think that’s why I gravitated to Women and Gender Studies. Because I wanted to know why people fight so hard against those things that I think are basic fundamentals of humanity. Why people hate.
(In case you’re wondering, I never found those answers. I found clues, but the truth is, I don’t think I’ll ever figure it out.)
But I did learn why it’s important for me, and others, to stand up and believe in equality, choice, safety, and everything else that Feminism stands for. Because it’s important. It’s important for women AND men, little girls AND little boys. It’s important for everyone.
First, I have to stop. Stop moving. Stop doing. Stop being…busy.
Sometimes I feel like I’m in perpetual motion. Always moving – but hopefully – moving forward.
Then there comes a time in every day when the movement begins to slow. And eventually…I can stop.
And then I can start relaxing.
I really don’t have a hard time relaxing. It comes easily and naturally once I stop.
But…and there’s a BIG BUT…I can’t relax for too long.
I get bored.
Maybe that’s because I equate relaxing to all things restful.
Things like reading or watching TV or even knitting (which is only a winter relaxing activity because it just seems to only make sense during cold, cloudy days) are restful and relaxing for me…but all that sitting makes me bored after an hour or two.
Unless of course I imbibe in a glass of wine, or other available “calming” substances (yes…it is what you’re thinking). Then…I can relax for many more hours at a time.
But eventually, I still get fidgety. I start thinking about all of the things I should, could, must be doing when I stop relaxing. And once that happens, I end up chucking the whole relaxing thing and go into perpetual motion once again.
Maybe my problem is that I don’t do anything requiring physical movement while relaxing. I know people who have hobbies that require actual movement and physical effort, like hiking mountains, or doing Yoga or baking batches of cupcakes…and they consider that stuff relaxing! While I consider that stuff physical labor.
There are also people who find it relaxing to exercise (God Forbid), and for the life of me…I don’t get that one at all. There is absolutely NOTHING restful or relaxing about exercising to me. It’s pure and simple physical labor and it is exhausting!
I know! It would seem to be a good fit for me with the whole perpetual motion thing and all…but I’m all about getting shit done…not just movement for movement’s sake.
I also equate relaxing to comfort. Comfortable clothes (which I call my “grubbies”), comfort food (give me a burrito and I’m in total relaxation mode) and comfortable activities like lying on the couch reading or watching TV.
I mean really, if I’m gonna stop moving for awhile, I might as well do it in comfort!
And rest.
Otherwise, what’s the point of relaxing?
I don’t have a hard life. I don’t have a whole lot of stress or responsibility or problems.
(Jealous?)
The majority of my stress comes from my own brain. I stress about random events, other people, and different situations that I have absolutely no control over.
(Not so jealous now, right?)
(OK, maybe you are. THESE ARE RHETORICAL QUESTIONS.)
But really, barring the occasional crazy parents donating/receiving organs, I have it pretty easy.
Since I live this relatively easy going life, I’m able to relax a lot.
The things that make me relax aren’t very unique or special.
I like reading, watching (too much) TV, and screwing around on the Internet.
I know some people who relax by exercising (gag me), or cleaning, or doing productive things like crafting some amazing thing with fabric or food.
But for me, those things belong on a very nasty looking to-do list, and not on my relaxation radar.
(Though if exercising and cleaning were on my list, life would be so much easier.)
(Plus, I’d be thin and live dust-free. WIN.)
I think that there are certain things that must happen if one is to relax.
First: comfort. Jeans, dresses, or anything that requires me to wear a belt, just won’t do. Baggy pants and over-sized shirts are incredibly important when relaxing. Also, a comfy place to lounge. The couch is great, but if you can get in a chair that reclines, life is really awesome.
Next requirement: a blanket. Even if it’s summer, I need something to curl up with. When it’s warm, I grab a lightweight scarf or sarong. When it’s cold, I grab a fleece blanket or THE GREATEST INVENTION OF FOREVER, my Snuggie.
(Do NOT judge me. It’s a freaking blanket with sleeves, people. You totally don’t know what you’re missing.)
Finally: quiet. I’m at the wonderful time in my life where I don’t yet have tiny humans running around my home, so making the house quiet it fairly easy. Except when the dogs are being naughty themselves. But then it’s as simple as blocking the dog door off (so they’re locked in the house and therefore can’t run outside and yell at the entire neighborhood throughout the day) or closing the blinds (so they can’t see (and bark at) the other creatures who have the audacity to walk near our house).
When all of those things are taken care of… well, life is pretty damn relaxing.