I was severely trolled today on a local rant and rave site. I haven’t, to this point, been one to be outspoken on such sites – but today I couldn’t resist.

And I stunned myself a bit because I was defending feminism.


For so long that was a connection that I’ve denied.

Feminism was long a “bad thing” in my life. Feminists were hairy, bra-burning, angry people who hated men – at least that was very much the picture I grew in my mind. Painted in part by my father and my ex, and in part by the media I was exposed to.

Part of me was well aware that without feminism, I would be viewed as nothing more than property (which truthfully I was and still am by some people), that I’d have neither education nor the right to vote nor the right to own property. So many things that had been won through women before me.

But feminism had gone far enough. So said those around me. Especially for the time I was involved in a Christian church…submission was the call to feminine action there. Feminism was anti-church to many who attended. It sounded so much like what I already ‘knew’ that I didn’t question their take on the topic.

I don’t know when my view began to change. When I started to begin to appreciate feminist thought and to agree with what the pioneers and activists have said over the years. When I started to identify with feminism as a positive force in this world, rather than the destructive one I had perceived it to be.

I think it began when I started with “Bitch in the house” a book I was reading at the tail-end of my marriage. I didn’t relate to many of the stories, and I began to question why. And it led me further into reading more and more on the topic.

And today I realized, that I just might be a feminist after all.

One of the worst things in the world a woman can be, I would think my ex would think if I would ask him. He might even think it’s to spite him, now that I’m free. I certainly would not have said I’m a feminist when I was with him, but it has nothing to do with him and everything to do with me.

And that – just being able to say that this is *mine* – my thought, my feeling –

I am a feminist. And I’m okay with that.



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