I remember that when I was younger, I felt like saying that I was a feminist meant I was this modern, amazing female who was way ahead of the rest of my classmates. My aunt Karen was this modern day hippie that kept her last name when she got married, does yoga and is a masseuse and a vegetarian. She always tried to teach me to love the fact that I am a woman and that I should be proud. She was in no way this man-hating, stereotypical feminist that most of society thinks of when they hear the word feminist. My impression of a feminist was a strong woman that understood the world around her. I felt a strong connection to my aunt and I immediately wanted to know more women like her.
In school I studied the different feminist waves, and in third grade I had to dress up as Amelia Earhart, and do a biography on her. I became obsessed with her and the fact that she defied the image of what people thought of women. She did the unthinkable in her time; she showed she was an independent woman that could conquer the great feat of flying across the Atlantic alone. She did exactly what a man did, and she showed she could do it just as well as he did.
In the 6th grade we studied the suffrage movement where I did a project on Susan B. Anthony. Through learning about her and the whole idea of suffrage, I became more proud to be woman.
The next year in 7th grade, I have this specific memory of getting into an argument with a boy in my class. I cannot remember exactly what the argument was about, but I know that it had to do with the equalities and inequalities between men and women. I remember standing my ground so strongly that I ended up completely shutting this boy down. He shamefully started to walk away, and then he turned around and called me a stupid feminist who probably didn’t shave her armpits. I ironically was wearing an orange tank top that said “Boys Lie” on the front of it, and although I did not really understand why he said I probably didn’t shave my armpits, I threw my arms up and shouted, “I am just standing up for what is right!”
It wasn’t until that moment that I learned about some of the bad stereotypes that are associated with being a feminist. I wanted to be known as a feminist, but I did not want people thinking I was a man-hating feminist, especially since I was in middle school! Soon I lost the reason of why I wanted to be a feminist and I was afraid of being categorized in the feminist social construct.
Now, I am not completely sure how to categorize myself in the feminist spectrum. I stand up for myself when confronted with sexism, but I don’t shout it to the world that I am a feminist. Although I enjoy doing things for my boyfriend like cooking for him, I am still fiercely independent in many aspects of our relationship.
I have realized that when I was young, I held true to the ideas of feminism and did not care about what the social stereotype was… I didn’t even know what the word meant. All I knew was that I felt it was important to be independent from men in order to understand myself as a woman. Somewhere along the line of growing up, I lost that idea and it hasn’t been until just recently that I have started to throw the stereotype out the window; I fell that I have come almost full circle.
