I have found as I age (please note there is no reference to getting either old or older as neither apply), and like most people I speak with, I become clearer and clearer of who I am and what I hold to be dear. There are of course the obvious selections; my children who have taught me far more than I could ever hope to teach them. There are my girlfriends who, only through misaligned biological connections, are not my blood sisters, but sisters to me in every other way. There is the four years of work/blessing I had at the Women’s Centre that filled me up and made me stretch and want to stretch more.
And there are my ideals. These are the core beliefs that I have that, although were inside of me as I grew as a young girl, did not find their voice or their clarity for me until the last few years. Working in a woman’s organization, conversations frequently settled around the feminist ideal and how different it is from woman to woman, from agency to agency. There are, however, a few basic truths that seem to carry regardless who is claiming to be a feminist or to hate them all or anything else in between. I have had many conversations involving comments such as “I’m not a feminist; I just want equality for women.” What on earth is feminism but the struggle for equality? I also hear, “I just can’t stand feminists.” I hear that one a lot. From all kinds of people; from people you would never expect to hate any segment of the population. I think somewhere between the birth of feminism in the 60’s and the mid 80’s the feminist voice became tainted with the fear and uncertainty of a culture unsure of what now seemed to be an inevitable course of events. I would argue (and frequently do) that feminism is not an achieved goal; far from it. There is so much left to do it often makes me feel as if my miniscule drops of sweat will have no impact on the sea that is injustice against women. But thankfully, that doesn’t happen often.
I was lucky to work with a lot of remarkable women at the Centre and to witness the journey of many others. One particularly beautiful soul had written her own feminist manifesto. She was a young woman in her early 20’s and I admired her knowledge of self, her strength of character and her dedication to becoming the best woman she could. And she inspired me to do the same.
In an effort to clearly identify what I believe to be a feminist ideal (but certainly not ‘the feminist ideal’), and to articulate once and for now, what I believe to be true, here is my feminist manifesto:
As a woman I claim the right to be treated with the same respect, dignity and honour of which all humans are deserving, but are so often denied. Because horrors are committed against human-kind in the name of God, Allah, the Almighty or whatever name is chosen for the power that is deemed to have created us all, does not justify or negate that women more often are the victims of abuse, murder, rape and assault. Until all of us women on this planet are safe, none of us is safe. I claim the right to be able to speak my discontent, be it mild or consuming, without my views being dismissed as the rantings of a hormonal, over-emotional female.
I claim the right to choose to be sexy or not, and I will not accept the stereotypical assignment of stupidity in direct proportion to how good I look. I like to look my best, to dress to impress, to turn heads when I walk into a room. This does not give anyone permission to presume acceptance of anything more than a compliment and good conversation. If I am interested in a person, I am perfectly capable of expressing that interest in a way that has little ambiguity. If I choose to be un-sexy, it is because for that moment in time, that is how I am most comfortable. It does not mean that I am on my period, that I’m bloated, that I’m in a bad mood or that I have “a hard on for someone.”
I am not a whore or a slut because I have taken responsibility for my own sexuality or reproductive system. My body. My choice. I believe that acts of love committed by consenting adults in the privacy of their homes are their business and should not be fodder for gossip, trial or persecution. There is enough hatred in this world; actions taking place out of love should be left sacred.
I chose to be a mother, and I respect and embrace women who choose not to be. I chose not to work outside of the home when my children were young, only because I had the privilege to do so and I empathize and support women who do not have the luxury of that choice.
I have given birth to sons and am proud of each one and the man he is becoming. I have done my best to instill in them the ideals that I profess here, but claim no responsibility for the impact of a culture that demeans women, diminishes their impact to sexual interference or objectifies them, and I mourn the change that culture has had on the voices of my sons. I am a feminist and I love men. I have given birth to three and loved many in many ways. I do not hate men.
I like to be a girly-girl as much as I like to be a mature woman. I want to be cared for and to care for others. I want human contact and in the absence of it, I become less of the person I know myself to be. I wish to see the best of me reflected in my friends’ eyes and laughter and embrace and I apologize to the many people who I have disappointed or hurt along my journey. I strive to set a good example and look for others to do the same. I am drawn to men for their strength, nobility, charm, humour, honesty and kindness. I have met far too many who possess none of those characteristics. I am drawn to women for their softness, insight, nurturing, grace, humour, honesty and kindness. I have met far too many who feel they do not deserve to possess any of those characteristics.
I believe that violence is never the answer. I knew when I was being beaten, that I had done nothing that would merit this mistreatment of me and I know that to be true of every child who has been beaten and abused and every adult who has faced the same fate, man or woman. If you can believe that a person deserves to be abused, than you can just as easily believe that I did as well, and I will not accept that as a truth in my life.
I claim the right to like the colour pink, “chick flicks,” sentimental music and all pretty things. That does not make me less strong. My strength comes from deep within and has carried me through agonizing times that I thought would buckle me under an unbearable weight of sorrow. My strength allowed me to emerge, spirit in tact and wisdom expanded.
So hopefully you will see feminism is not an absurd notion filled with radical ideals and destructive wishes. Like any other segment of the population, whether divided by race, sex, religion, ethnicity or financial standing, feminists are as wide and varied as your selection of candies in a candy store. The idea, like anything else in life, is to pick what you really like and pass by the rest.
