Why I am not a modern day feminist

The title of this post will, I’m sure, make most people reading this hate me. And that’s ok,

because at least I know that if you’re here, you can read. I’m sure you have an opinion on the topic of feminism, because who doesn’t in this day and age? And that’s good, because I am a writer, writing about issues worth writing about, and I’m on the right track.

I find modern feminism a very difficult topic to talk about. We all know the definition: the advocacy of women's rights on the basis of the equality of the sexes. I understand, there should not be a question that the treatment of men and women should be equal. There should be no difference in pay, no difference in basic human rights, no difference in our ability to make choices about our sexual activity and sexuality. Sure, women should not be seen as weak for being mothers, for breastfeeding, or for crying at Marley and Me - because we know all the men were sobbing too. So, hate me a little less now?

Recently, I was part of a conversation in which I was made into a villain. In fact, I may as well have been dragged around town by my ankles with my underwear on my head. My opinions were so “controversial” to a group of girls, that I could barely get a word in. On January 20th at 8am, the Women’s March commenced. Thousands of men and women marched around Downtown Los Angeles, demonstrating with each step how dedicated they are to feminism. After some thought, and a pretty brutal hangover, I decided not to walk.

During the aforementioned conversation, I was ripped apart for my lack of contribution to females as a whole. I admit, laziness, a headache and a mountain of homework definitely played into about 20% of my decision. However, the remaining 80% was up for debate.

So, why do I not instinctively jump at the idea of marching for feminism? My answer can be best described by a writer I have grown up with, in an article which was published in The Times some years ago. It is one written by Caitlin Moran, one of my favorite columnists and is called “All about my brothers - My brothers made me not scared of men”. Moran was part of a big family, one whose characteristics appear to be very similar to those of my own family: a little chaotic, maybe dysfunctional at times, while also totally loving and breeding strong individuals (both male and female).

I, like Moran, grew up in a household of brothers, and have surrounded myself with many lovely male friends. Moran talks about growing up with boys:

“The luck of a woman with brothers is that she gets to be around boys, without being a girl. Girls are not girls to their brothers. And brothers are not men to their sisters. Instead – all brought up in the same puppy basket…when you’re together, you’re just family…You are all “Moran”.”

As per usual, Moran hits the nail on the head with this metaphor. My big, hectic family, meant that there was no room for “being a sissy” as my brother, Reuben, would say, or “being a pansy”, as Teo would smirk. Friday Night Dinner was like our own Roast Night game show: Reuben making fun of me for my ballet “bun-head”, him and I convincing fair-haired Teo that he is adopted, and all of us arguing about who should have the biggest allowance - Reuben said it should be based on boob size, and that I would therefore still lose. We were part of the same litter, thrown in together, and even as a girl, I was forced to harden up a bit.

Growing up in my household may have given me some kind of advantage in a world in which gender equality is still not perfect. Modern feminism disappoints me again and again. It appears to me that much feminist demonstration is in the form of public activism, while not much resides in real belief or support of female equality in society. I live and breathe feminism, so while I may not act out on it, my personality takes responsibility for it. Too much feminism relies on social media, but proudly "shouting" on Facebook and Instagram that boys are pigs and that you’re a “nasty woman” is not going to do much for woman’s position in society. I do not believe that I or any girl needs to wear a t-shirt which promotes feminism in order to be a feminist. I don’t need to hate men to be a feminist. I don’t need to label myself as a feminist of this era to be an advocate for equality of the sexes. In fact, I feel like if I were to, it would destroy my cause and damage my arguments for equality by highlighting how I am different from my male peers. The more defensive we are, the more desperate we seem to prove our worth. Instead, the way that I conduct myself, my behavior, my support of other women, my position as a leader, my ability to speak out when I am right and shut up when I am wrong; these are all things which present me as a feminist who truly believes that I am equal to my brothers.

I am grateful for the men in my life, for the ones who have loved me, and even for the ones who have broken my heart. And to my brothers, I am grateful for trusting that we really are all equal, and that men are not people to be feared. I am grateful that they have always treated me like they treat each other, that a swift kick to the shin comes just as hard to me as it does to one of them. Because of this treatment, I have never walked into a room of men and felt inferior. I instead feel perpetually confident that I have dealt with my fair share of name-calling and teasing and can take on anybody who crosses my path, male or female. But why give them a warning on a t-shirt? Just let them have it when they’re least expecting it.

https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/all-about-my-brothers-lshrfflmbbn