Feminism

This is something I wrote a few years ago on another site, and I'm reposting it here.

     Feminist. Feminism.  Those words conjure up a lot of emotion in people. Some consider them fighting words. They dredge up images of ball-busting Femi-Nazis. I've heard women say, "I'm no feminist." Mostly in effort, I think, to distance themselves from that image.
     First off, let me tell you what feminism ISN'T. Feminism isn't about hating men. It isn't about wanting all men castrated. It isn't about putting women above men. It's not about putting men in their place.
     Don't get me wrong. Women like that do exist. I won't deny it. But if that is how you identify yourself as a feminist, then let me be the first to say You're Doing It Wrong, Sister.
     I've entertained feminist thoughts as far back as I can remember. They were further reinforced after I become a mother. So let me tell you what feminism IS.
     Feminism is growing up in a rural area, questioning why it was acceptable and encouraged for women to serve food on plates for men, and then to let them sit at the table and eat first. It is thinking to yourself, how are you better than me? How about we each fix our own plates and sit down and eat together?
     Feminism is realizing that the sexualization (or de-sexualization) of female political candidates is to strip her down to what use she is to a man. To reduce her to the level of being the bearer of a vagina he either would or would not touch. To realize this is done by those who are fearful of the power she represents and has earned.
     Feminism is shutting your mouth firm against what all you have been indoctrinised about what girls should like, when you realize your daughter is happier playing in dirt than with Polly Pockets and wants a Bob the Builder cake for her birthday.  And to stand up for her, if someone calls you on it.
     Feminism is hearing a man say that he thinks women belong at home taking care of the kids and hoping that your daughter is never reduced to that level of thinking when you know she is capable of so much more.
     Feminism is letting both your daughter AND your son take turns mopping the floor and doing the dishes. Because either way, it is not only a useful skill to have when they are an adult and living on their own, but also to create a better husband for your son's future wife.
     Feminism is wondering how a man came to develop the idea that it is ok to get even with a woman for being a tease by sexually assaulting her when she's passed out. Then to assure yourself to work hard to never let your son pick up beliefs such as these.
     Feminism is raising your son to have respect for women and never to let the barbaric thought of hitting a woman or hurting her physically in any way cross his mind. To look down on those who would with disgust.
     Feminism is to encourage your daughter to play football or be on the wrestling team, instead of ballet, if that is where her interests lie.
     Feminism is when you realize that it IS true that a woman has to work twice as hard as a man, with no complaint and less compensation, to earn just a grudging amount of respect. And to KEEP doing it, because it may make things a little easier for your daughter when she grows up.
     Feminism is a dad teaching his daughter how to fix a car or playing basketball with her.
     Feminism is a dad knowing better than to comment on his daughter's weight or appearance so as not to encourage an eating or body image disorder.
     Feminism is a father willing to confront his own indoctrinations about gender and to encourage his children to be their own person and develop their own interests despite what their gender may dictate.
     Feminism is a man willing to be a single dad or a stay at home dad, despite the looks he may get.
     Feminism is a man who shares the responsibility of his children, because he is a parent, not a babysitter.
     Feminism is a man who realizes he married an equal partner, not a second mother to adopt him and take care of him.
     Feminism is a woman appreciating what is often taken for granted, whether it be driving or holding down a job. Because her forbears didn't have that option and paved the way for her to have those things.
     I think most of all, feminism is activism. Activism not just for women, to promote women. But activism to level the playing field. Not just for us, but for our children. And not just for our children, but any of us who are so ballsy, and brash and outspoken that we are willing to rattle the cage.

Hot Mess Mommy

"How has motherhood made you a misfit? Have you found that parenthood has made it easier or more difficult to make friends? Do you rebel against the cliches of modern motherhood or embrace them? How have you changed?"

Those were the questions posed recently on a blog I follow. They're definitely food for thought.

You know, as far as being a misfit goes, I've always been that. Now I'm just a misfit with children. Sometimes that makes it easier to make friends. Sometimes, that makes it harder.

Having children is definitely an icebreaker, and opens doors for you in some ways. If you see a person with children, you know you're in the same boat. Theirs may be a yacht, and yours a dinghy. But nevertheless, you're both navigating the tricky ocean of parenthood. Instead of say, driving a car. On an established road.

If it weren't for my daughter, I would never have attended storyhour at the library. I wouldn't have made friends with other new mommies, and found myself as part of a playgroup. However, these women, as nice and friendly as they are, only see a facet of myself.

Don't get me wrong, I'm genuine with them.... I'm just not my "whole" self. These women have their lives together. They make potty charts for their children. Shuffle them off to Gymboree, preschool soccer, all sorts of organized activities. They have mommy hairstyles. They get the perils and pitfalls of motherhood, but they do it with class and style.

I'm a hot mess of a mommy. My kids are perpetually crusty faced and messy haired. I wear T-shirts and jeans insteads of blouses and khakis. I'm never prepared for anything, always forgetting to pack a snack or sand toys when we go to the park, not having any wipes or extra pants for my kid when he messes himself. Always having to borrow these items from other mommies, my face full of shame, even when they tell me they understand, they have 3 kids themselves.

I wear my hair in pigtails, when I so fancy. My chidren have never attended anything more organized than preschool or storyhour. We dig around in the yard looking for worms, when the weather's nice. I'm always, ALWAYS running late. To everything.

Every once in a while, when the planets align just so, I find another Mommy rowing a dinghy like mine. Ok, I admit it -- it's just happened once. But it's glorious to find another mom who appreciates the finer things in life. Like old school paper, pencil and dice role playing games. The merits of playing a video game for 6 hours straight. Trashy celebrity gossip rags. Or leaving the kids with the grandparents to get your drink on and dance the night away in some dingy, dimly lit overcrowded lounge.

I like to think I've stayed true to myself, while also embracing the part of me that is Mommy. I'm all about feminism and equality. When my daughter wanted a Bob the Builder cake for her birthday, she got it. She loves to play outside in the dirt, and I encourage it. When she's debating on whether to be a ballerina or a firefighter when she grows up, I suggest being a ballerina who's on the volunteer fire department.

I also try to keep an open mind and agree to requests from my son, when he wants help putting on his sister's Cinderella dress. Polishing his fingernails if he asks, and letting him wear one of my rings if he wants. And stand up for him and say, "That's what he wanted" if someone should dare tsk, tsk me about it.

While some mothers are dragging their babies and children off to pageants or getting their ears pierced and suggesting I do so too, I stand firm. My children are their own people and not my personal accessories or an accomplishment. Should they ever want to do those things, I'll support them. But they're not going to do them, solely because *I* want them to.

I guess that's one way I have changed. My children have given me a reason to root out the issues I care about, and to stand firm on them. Before children, I was a reed in the wind, bending to the whims of wishes of others, whether I agreed or not.