When I was not a feminist, I readily subscribed to the notion that feminists are humourless, man-hating types. I conceived of myself as progressive, so I defined myself against this vision of feminism. I always qualified my statement “I support women’s rights” with the proviso “as long as they take into account men’s rights.” I was quick to denigrate feminists as hippies, space cadets and self-pitying fearmongers. I refused to believe in systematic oppression or patriarchy; I was contemptuous of feminist activism. I hated what I called “feminist jargon.” I would say anything or do anything for a pat on the head from the patriarchy. I wasn’t “like other girls.” I now realize how ignorant I was. I was refusing to see what was always right in front of me: Women, are still seen as sub-human. Sexism is real and pernicious. Stereotypes of feminists do not reflect reality. Words are more than just words. The patriarchy will never let a woman rise above her proper place.
I now see how I collaborated in the oppression of women. One of the greatest challenges I’ve faced since I decided not to participate in my own subjugation has been overcoming my feminist-phobic ideas.
It has been particularly difficult for me to claim feminism for myself. I denigrated feminism for such a long time that I am now afraid to call myself a “feminist.” I know what others who think like I once did will call me if I say I am a feminist. I know that I will be written off by anyone who isn’t already acclimatized to feminist concepts. I know that any time I use “feminist jargon,” my arguments will be sidelined and I will be subsumed under negative stereotypes of feminism. I know that the words I have learned–the words that have been given to me that refer specifically to the realities to which I bear witness–will be used against me to paint me as unrealistic or too academic or antagonistic. I am afraid to be maligned and sidelined. I am afraid that I will never make a difference because I will always have to fight for legitimacy before I can fight for freedom.
It hurts so much to be immediately dismissed. It hurts to be swept aside and defamed simply because you appear to subscribe to a contemptible viewpoint. It hurts to be ignored, demeaned, bypassed, laughed off. It hurts when your ideas instantly are met with denial, disdain and blame. I am anguished to think that I ever hurt someone in this way. I feel deep shame and regret for how I once treated others. Now that I know how much this type of treatment can hurt, I am afraid to come out as a feminist. I know, however, that if I don’t stand up for feminism, I am helping the patriarchy. I am submitting. I will not submit. I will claim the language of feminism, I will refuse to be bound by stereotypes, and I will fight. To do any less would be complicity.
