I never really understood why feminism existed. In my earlier years,
that was because I was considerably ignorant on the subject. I grasped
the fact that women have never been socially, economically, politically,
or anything-ly equal to men, but I just didn't understand
why
that was true. We're all just people; I couldn't wrap my head around why
anatomical differences have engendered so many contentions and
inequities. I still can't, although now I am more educated on the
subject.
I went to a very progressive middle and elementary school, an
environment in which we had weekly lectures and activities about racial
equality and LGBTQ rights (this was before the umbrella term trans* was
created), but I don't recall ever discussing women's issues. When I
began reading
Rookie Mag
-- where nearly everyone on the staff is either a self-proclaimed
feminist, a women's rights supporter, or something in between -- was
around when I started to understand what feminism actually means. I had
always dismissed it as some sort of extreme movement that involved
misandry, bra burning, and public protests, like the time Eric and Donna
go to a feminist demonstration in an episode of
That '70s Show. That was about the extent of my knowledge.
I had never bothered to further enlighten myself because we are
taught that feminism is something negative, and the subject was so
foreign to me that I didn't even want to get involved. As I entered
deeper into the trenches of my adolescence, I went around thinking that
if someone looked at me lecherously or made an unwelcome sexual comment
that it was my fault. I had led them on, in some way. So I stopped
wearing V-neck T-shirts and never thought about it. Even at my
equal-rights-for-everybody-even-though-we-only-talk-about-certain-groups-of-people-because-they're-minorities-and-women-aren't
school we were taught, "Don't get raped," never "Don't rape." That
never seemed out of place to me. It's extremely stifling and maddening
to live in a world that objectifies women to such a degree that we don't
even notice it anymore; that's how large a part of our society it has
become. Or, I guess, always has been, for millennia. I only recently
realized that as a teenage girl I was being affected by misogyny,
disrespect, and degradation just by simply existing.
The fashion industry is one of the main propellants of the rigid
concepts of femininity and womanhood that are held so highly in our
culture. For decades, even centuries, women have been expected to either
be a perfect combination of elegance, sexual appeal, and vulnerability,
or urged to act more like men. Even with revolutionary members of the
media popping up everywhere -- Lena Dunham, Tavi Gevinson, Miranda July
-- women are only being more forcibly squished into these molds. We all
already know that the supermodel-skinny standards are a major part of
what's dragging us, meaning females, down. That topic deserves an entire
article in and of itself, but it's not all that the fashion world is
contributing to this huge dilemma. It's the clothing itself. It's a
topic that I've written about before, without really knowing what I was
saying.
Taking a tip from the boys, menswear for women, things of that ilk. That concept has taken a turn for the worst.
While reading the
Man Repeller
a few months ago, Leandra Medine mentioned that in order to embody
"swag," one must look like a male sixth grader: messy cropped hair,
boyish clothing, baseball caps, the whole deal. I admire and respect
Leandra immensely, but I felt that she had almost betrayed her fellow
ladies in this post through words like: "achieving 'cool' is wholly
about how well a girl can emulate a prepubescent boy." My immediate
response to her story was a big, bolded, upper-cased
WHY?
I understand that this could potentially be misconstrued as me being
ridiculously sensitive, but hear me out. Here's what I'm seeing. Looking
cool now entails dressing like guys. That would be fine, if the same
had ever been true for the opposite sex. When has it ever been
considered trendy for a man to wear a dress, or heels, or another
garment of clothing generally associated with women? Approximately
never, except for in the 17th century, when almost everybody in the aristocracy wore heels. And
Marc Jacobs's pink polo dress
that he wore to the opening of his museum exhibition in Paris last year
doesn't count. Marc Jacobs is not a valid representation of the general
male population.
I don't personally feel the need to wear anything characteristically
feminine in order to feel good about myself or how I am presenting
myself to the world. That probably stems from the fact that I grew up
completely unaware of how these injustices applied to me. Do my
androgynous tendencies -- short hair, near exclusion of pink in my
wardrobe, very little makeup, unshaved legs -- imply that I am actively
aspiring to look like a teenage boy? Not in the least bit. I like my
loose jeans as much as I like my shift dresses. I cut my hair short
because I hate feeling weighted down by masses of dead cells on my head.
I don't wear pink because it makes me feel like a sickly amalgamation
of an infant and cotton candy. I don't wear a lot of makeup, if any at
all, partly because I hate having to worry about taking it off at night,
partly because I prefer to present myself in my most natural form. I
stopped shaving my legs because I have much better things to be doing
with my time. I dress the way I want to because I like the way my
clothing looks.
One of the greatest misconceptions about people interested in fashion
and clothing is that they care too much about their appearance. It
takes a significant amount of indifference towards other people and
their judgements to walk outside into a world where everyone feels
entitled to share their opinions on every subject, whether they be
valuable or completely uncalled for. That translates directly into the
issue about women's rights. People make comments, assumptions, and
evaluations on women's semblance all the time, thinking we crave their
approval, that we strive for their acceptance. In reality, nothing could
be further from the truth.
Some women definitely seek that sort of confirmation, but that often
is a result of insecurity or lack of self-confidence. That isn't to say
that ladies that choose to ignore others' criticisms on their looks are
not insecure, nor is it to say that women who attire themselves in a
more sexualized manner are doing so for the benefit of those around
them. This may somewhat of a mantra for feminists, and hopefully
eventually for every person: we are not trying to look a certain way for
you, whoever you may be. I don't know who gave the general populace the
power to decide who is a "slut," or at least looks like one, and who is
not, but they should feel pretty crappy right about now because they
are painfully fallacious. I don't think that word should even exist; I
don't believe that promiscuity is so terrible as long as no one is hurt,
either emotionally or physically, in the process. A woman has a right
to use her body how she wants just as much as a man does. I've always
wondered why nearly every rape story I've heard or read about involves a
male rapist. What it is about penises that makes men think they can
just stick them everywhere? I have a supposition that it has less to do
with biology and more to do with social hierarchy. It boils down to the
fact that women are simply not considered equal to men.
When we ask ourselves where this inequality stems from, it's easy to
say that way back in the Paleolithic and Neolithic Eras the men were the
ones that hunted and the women tended to the children. The latter's
fatal infirmity was their inherent femaleness: the menstruation and
subsequent complications, the decreased ability to maintain dense muscle
mass, et cetera. Men saw themselves as superior because they could go
out and spear a buffalo for the whole clan and not have to worry about
doubling over in pain from cramps or what have you. Sure, women have
their weaknesses, but men don't? They absolutely do. The number one
argument that I feel neutralizes everything is that women can have
babies, and men can't. In theory, that should give us immense power, but
it doesn't. Instead, guys just went ahead and took the liberty of
impregnating women without their consent. I know it's completely
inarticulate, but my instinctual response to that is: what the hell.
I've never been pregnant before but I have taken freshman biology and I
know plenty of people that have bore children, and it sounds like having
a small person growing inside of you doesn't feel so fantastic. Forcing
that on someone who has not asked for it is one of the most heinous
crimes I can think of. Perhaps that's one reason why we don't see a lot
of female rapists: we're at a higher risk of suffering the consequences
of having non-assented sex both physically and socially.
As a high school student and teenager, my future is like a massive,
daunting, multi-colored cloud that looms ahead of me at all times. I
have high hopes for that cloud. I want to be able to pursue a career in
something I enjoy and not have to be concerned about whether my male
occupationally equivalent colleague is getting more perks or has a
higher salary purely because of my physical constitution. People's
intellectual capabilities are purely a result of how much work they put
into cultivating their garden, to cite Voltaire. In other words, my
brain and all it can do and create is a product of my own labor, not
genetic chance.
I often think back to the time in my life when I had no idea what
sort of unjustified prejudice I was in danger of facing because of my
chromosomal makeup. I was ignorant and had been brainwashed by the
patriarchal society we live in that, as a female, it was my duty to
protect myself from harm but to simultaneously exude femininity. That
only works if you're the only person you're ever around. There's no way
to control what other people perceive as suggestive or girly (not that
the two are synonymous in any way), thus it is impossible to satisfy
everybody's personal requirements. If that's the case, then I don't see
why I should bother trying to live up to the world's expectations for me
as a woman. I would much rather strive to please others on the basis of
what is expected of me as a human being. That's what we all are. Male,
female, non-cisgender, somewhere in between, we are all just people.
What baffles me is why we can't treat each other as equally as the
universe intended us to be. If we were supposed to have hierarchal
distinctions within our race, some of us would be born with five extra
retractable limbs and X-ray vision. Please correct me if I'm wrong, but I
highly doubt that anyone possesses those abilities.
Feminism is not about hatred or anger or misandry. It is not
negative. Feminists are not intrinsically evil, nor are they lesbian by
default, nor do they wish to purge the Earth of all non-women. "Male
feminists" shouldn't have to be a term that distinguishes men that
promote equity from those that don't. All of this is about equality and
freedom and love. It isn't up to us to decide our anatomical structure,
but we can most definitely choose to act in particular ways despite our
natural differences. The power rests entirely in our hands to change, if
not reverse, the undeniable misogyny of the world we live in. Once
people can stop defining each other by their gender, appearance,
ethnicity, or any other uncontrollable quality of ours, and begin to
appraise one another based on the substance of our thoughts and merit of
our deeds, we'll be on the right track.
Source: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/odelia-kaly/gender-equality_b_3365689.html