feminism: (n.) the advocacy of women’s rights on the grounds of political, social, and economic equality to men
If you had asked me, at age 12, whether or not I was a feminist, I would have told you no. I would have told you that no, I am not one of them. I don’t hate on men. I don’t burn my little training bras nor do I walk around downtown New York, barechested and angry.
Three years later, I’m still very much the same. I don’t hate on men. I don’t burn my normal bras. I don’t prance around the streets in some kind of militant nudity, and I’ve never been to New York. I would say, however, that I am a feminist. What I am not, is a misandrist.
Google tells it to you straight. Feminism is about equality, not superiority. And for my second contribution to Word for Wednesday, my challenge to you all (on both a social and a literary perspective) is to rethink your definition of feminism.
So what does feminism mean to you? Do you see it as I once did, as this radical protest for male servitude and female dominance? Or do you see it the way the dictionary does- a revolution for equal rights on the grounds of sex? Either way, think about it. My challenge to you.
(Of course, if you inherently believe that women ought to be “lower” than men, then that’s your opinion. And there are many people like you very close in my life, and while it’s utterly disappointing as a girl whose opportunities are stripped away from her simply due to her sex, it’s still your opinion.)
Word for Wednesday! Twisted it a little this week, but hope that’s okay.