I used to be afraid to call myself a feminist

Identifying boldly as a feminist has not always been an easy journey for me. I used to shy away and say I aligned with some aspects of feminism but not the label itself. I would sit and ask myself why I chose to evade these questions with such a vague answer that bordered on a lie. Was it because I was ashamed of my beliefs? Did I think I was wrong? What made them so embarrassing?

It became clear that it had more to do with the fact that every time I had been asked asked if I was a feminist, it was accompanied by a tone of dismissal, as if what I was saying would instantly become laughable if I answered in the affirmative.

I opted to evade the passive aggressive clings to superiority by giving non-answers to that question, and since have learned to attack disdain with disdain if the need arises. If someone asks me a direct question, they now receive a direct answer: Yes, I do identify as a feminist, and no, I do not want to hear everything you think you know about feminism, because correcting your misinformation is a waste of your time, and more importantly a waste of mine.

When did feminist become such a dirty word in the first place? Why am I only asked if I’m a feminist during conversations not about feminism, but other issues? Who are you to tell me I should identify as a “humanist” instead of “feminist” if I believe in just the egalitarian nature of the movement? Spoiler alert: humanism is already its own thing. If you don’t know that, you shouldn’t be asking me questions about feminism in the first place.

Can it be argued that the only reason “feminist” is used as such a derogatory word due in part to an undercurrent of sexism that is still pervasive in our modern society? Seems likely.

Within my experiences, if I tell someone I am a feminist I am often inundated with the reasons why feminism is wrong, how it’s unnecessary, that it hurts our society by removing “natural” gender roles, etc. None of these reasons are all that hard to knock down if you have someone willing to have a thoughtful and insightful conversation with a strong foundation of respect, but rarely is it ever that easy.

I’ve had people tell me feminism isn’t needed in western culture anymore because seemingly sexism doesn’t exist here, and feminists should be grateful for living in such a progressive society because things could be so much worse. The logic within those types of arguments relies entirely on expectant complacency of women however, and saying “hey look, you could totally be stoned to death but instead we don’t do that so you should stop where you are right now” isn’t ever going to be a valid point. Could a murderer stop their homicidal tendencies, instead choosing to just physically harm people, and tell the legal system they should be happy with where they’re at now? Of course not, so don’t expect women to do that either.

The results are in (and have been for quite awhile), the wage gap exists. Even in female-dominated fields like nursing, men make more than women while occupying the same positions.

So why am I still having arguments with people about its existence? 

About two years ago I was told that “Feminism doesn’t have a purpose anymore because sexism doesn’t exist in America.” and “The wage gap is a myth, it’s illegal so it can’t exist.” I was floored at these outlandish claims, and I thought about how to respond to them.

As an awkward teenager waiting to figure out who she was I would have diverted the subject, moved along, and been like “yeah who knows” and attempt to continue a friendship with someone with beliefs in stark contrast with my own. Instead, I chose to attack the claims head-on, letting this particular individual know exactly how I felt. I didn’t care about what happened next to our relationship, because the most important thing to me in that moment was making sure my voice was heard. I sent him study after study disproving everything he had to say, and argued from personal experience. He asked me if I believed in the feminist movement, and I weighed my answer and eventually went for it. I told him I absolutely did, and he returned the answer with some crude insult. He refused to accept anything because of some prejudice against a movement and resorted to personal insults. I solved the issue by eagerly deleting his number and calling it a day.

Realizing that the best thing I could do for myself was to trust in my ability to reason with someone, and carefully explain why I respectfully disagreed was a huge stepping stone. It made me feel confident and as if I had underestimated myself all those years before, when I doubted myself because of someone else’s opinions. It was the first time I could confidently answer the question “Are you a feminist?” with a “Yes,” and was a huge stepping stone into being comfortable with my own adult identity.

Much more recently, I had the delight of hearing that “western women literally have the best men in the world and they still complain about inequality” and that western men basically “created” equality and respect for women. 

To me this embodied everything about the expectations of female complacency, to be grateful for what has been given to us, and not focus on what we deserve. My response to this message was not kind, it didn’t spare feelings, and I let the person really have it. Western male culture didn’t “invent” respect for women, we fought for it. I’m not going to argue that western women enjoy privileges that other women are still fighting for, but it’s not as if we didn’t fight for those rights as well. The right to vote, to own land, or to attend universities wasn’t graciously bestowed unto women in western cultures by men who just happened to be super nice that day. They were each long and hard battles faced with many critics, and immense amounts of hatred by men and women alike. They said something about how feminists lose their minds over everything and tried to make a joke, I ignored it because it was clear they had no genuine argument left.

I let this individual know all that I thought and felt about their words (and more), and it gave me the same sense of satisfaction I had gotten from the first time I openly identified as a feminist. I understood that a long-held relationship could have ended because of the differences we shared and went for it anyways, and honestly it felt great. It was a blatant display of confidence in myself and my beliefs, and I cant help but wonder how many uncomfortable situations I could have avoided in years past if I had tapped into this self-assurance earlier.

The last feeling I had after that discussion was a hopefulness that people close to me could learn to respect my beliefs as I do with theirs, because I know backing away from the word “feminist” won’t be happening any longer.