I’m a fucking feminist. So, let’s get one thing straight right off the bat: I’m a fucking feminist. I love women. I love that we have the right to vote, and also the right to choose what goes down on, around, inside and in the general vicinity of our bodies. If you are a woman, and you want to grow up to be a kick-ass CEO, I think you might be my hero. I grew up in a house full of powerful, stubborn and self-empowered women. I went to Sarah Lawrence College. I know a few things about being a girl, and I fucking love women. I want to see women in office, I want to work with women, I want to watch powerful female characters on TV and in the movies.  Now that we have all of that out of the way, I have a confession to make: I don’t want to have a huge successful career in the workforce. I want to be a fucking mom. I mean, I’d be stoked to work as an office manager for a few years, maybe go back to school and become a nurse, or a teacher; or, even better!, sign some sort of contract promising me millions of dollars upon the completion of my best-selling collection of short stories. I mean, fuck. I have goals, I am ambitious. But if my birth control somehow failed, and I found out I was pregnant tomorrow— it would be all baby, all the time from then on.  I’m sick of people giving me shit for this. I plan on raising smart, beautiful children in a stable and constructive environment. I don’t give a shit about money or working my way up to the top of some cutthroat industry. I do give a shit about parenting and babies. Every “Feminist” I’ve discussed this with has given me that sideways eyeball, that loaded look that seems to mean either “You poor oppressed and unempowered little shit”  or “You have a lot of growing up to do”.  Here’s why I take issue with this attitude: Parenting is traditionally a woman’s role. Feminists will tell you that it shouldn’t be that way, that parenting is a two person job- they will show you Sweden and laud its parental leave, its tax breaks for new families. This, I agree with! But suddenly, if my own personal goal is to be a parent— that is to say, if my own personal goal is to operate in this traditionally Female position— suddenly, I’m unempowered. I don’t have ambitions, I’m not going anywhere with my life, and I certainly can’t be a feminist. It seems to me that in order to be considered empowered or feminist in any meaningful capacity I have to have dreams of becoming President or CEO of some Important Capitalist Company (or, Even More Important Non-Profit Organization).  In other words, in order to be feminist, I’ve got to aspire to the roles of power, roles traditionally reserved for men. This reinforces the patriarchal dichotomy that feminists claim to oppose.  Again, I’m going to remind you that I’m a fucking feminist. Keep that in mind: I support the right to choose, I support women in the workplace, I support the empowerment of women in all their endeavors.  I fucking love shopping. I also fucking love getting dressed up. And wearing make-up. That’s right. I pluck my eyebrows. I shave my armpits on a semi-regular basis. And I own a huge mess of mascaras, concealers and blush (among other frequently-used cosmetics). I’ve had more than one “feminist” tell me personally (and I’ve read about this countless times on “feminist” blogs) that by wearing make-up and/or shaving my armpits, I’m buying into some kind of male-driven beauty standard. It’s as if, by shaving my hairy pits, I’m forsaking my true femininity in the name of some kind of unattainable beauty goal. If I really loved myself, and if I truly considered myself a feminist, I wouldn’t shave. I wouldn’t put on eye-liner or spend time styling my hair.  What irritates me so much about this is the assumption that I’m not making my own decisions. As if I’ve been so brutalized by advertising and magazines, so brainwashed by Evil Men, that I can’t even see “how fucked up it is that women DO shave their legs”. Please, ladies, give yourselves a little respect. This attitude casts all appearance-conscious, make-up wearing women as helpless victims of some kind of evil beauty regime. If you don’t want to shave your pits- please, don’t! In fact, I think it it super rad and kick-ass of you. Personally, I shave because if I don’t, I smell like skunk. Seriously. My BO smells like skunk, and it’s worse when I don’t shave. But by all means, if you want to be a member of the Hairy Pits Club, or if you want to rock that unibrow, do. I support you 100%. Just refrain from judging me for my choices. Don’t assume that my Clinique mascara and my Benefit POREfessional pore reducing cream make me any less of a kick-ass sister. You and I both believe that our appearances shouldn’t affect how seriously we are taken by society. The difference is that my appearance (that is, the fact that I wear make-up) reflects traditionally Female practices (women have been using make-up since before Eve). So we come back to my original point: by making choices that are traditionally associated with women and female gender roles, I’m basically “unempowered”.  I agree, with all of my heart, that beauty standards today are unfair. (This is by no means limited to girls. Have you ever watched a porno? Seen a magazine rack at the supermarket? Both genders are held to an impossible aesthetic. Duh.) But, please, make your own decisions. Don’t assume that I’m not living up to my full feminine and feminist potential just because I don’t want a six-figure salary and hairy legs. I mean, I believe that if you want both of those things, it is your unalienable right to have them (or, in the case of the six-figure salary, it’s your right to try. Six is a lot of figures). Now I have a headache and need to take a nap or something. But I’ll be back to write about sex and also about blowjobs and cumming later. Goodbye. 

I’m a fucking feminist.

So, let’s get one thing straight right off the bat: I’m a fucking feminist. I love women. I love that we have the right to vote, and also the right to choose what goes down on, around, inside and in the general vicinity of our bodies. If you are a woman, and you want to grow up to be a kick-ass CEO, I think you might be my hero. I grew up in a house full of powerful, stubborn and self-empowered women. I went to Sarah Lawrence College. I know a few things about being a girl, and I fucking love women. I want to see women in office, I want to work with women, I want to watch powerful female characters on TV and in the movies. 

Now that we have all of that out of the way, I have a confession to make: I don’t want to have a huge successful career in the workforce. I want to be a fucking mom. I mean, I’d be stoked to work as an office manager for a few years, maybe go back to school and become a nurse, or a teacher; or, even better!, sign some sort of contract promising me millions of dollars upon the completion of my best-selling collection of short stories. I mean, fuck. I have goals, I am ambitious. But if my birth control somehow failed, and I found out I was pregnant tomorrow— it would be all baby, all the time from then on. 

I’m sick of people giving me shit for this. I plan on raising smart, beautiful children in a stable and constructive environment. I don’t give a shit about money or working my way up to the top of some cutthroat industry. I do give a shit about parenting and babies. Every “Feminist” I’ve discussed this with has given me that sideways eyeball, that loaded look that seems to mean either “You poor oppressed and unempowered little shit”  or “You have a lot of growing up to do”. 

Here’s why I take issue with this attitude: Parenting is traditionally a woman’s role. Feminists will tell you that it shouldn’t be that way, that parenting is a two person job- they will show you Sweden and laud its parental leave, its tax breaks for new families. This, I agree with! But suddenly, if my own personal goal is to be a parent— that is to say, if my own personal goal is to operate in this traditionally Female position— suddenly, I’m unempowered. I don’t have ambitions, I’m not going anywhere with my life, and I certainly can’t be a feminist. It seems to me that in order to be considered empowered or feminist in any meaningful capacity I have to have dreams of becoming President or CEO of some Important Capitalist Company (or, Even More Important Non-Profit Organization).  In other words, in order to be feminist, I’ve got to aspire to the roles of power, roles traditionally reserved for men. This reinforces the patriarchal dichotomy that feminists claim to oppose. 

Again, I’m going to remind you that I’m a fucking feminist. Keep that in mind: I support the right to choose, I support women in the workplace, I support the empowerment of women in all their endeavors. 

I fucking love shopping. I also fucking love getting dressed up. And wearing make-up. That’s right. I pluck my eyebrows. I shave my armpits on a semi-regular basis. And I own a huge mess of mascaras, concealers and blush (among other frequently-used cosmetics). I’ve had more than one “feminist” tell me personally (and I’ve read about this countless times on “feminist” blogs) that by wearing make-up and/or shaving my armpits, I’m buying into some kind of male-driven beauty standard. It’s as if, by shaving my hairy pits, I’m forsaking my true femininity in the name of some kind of unattainable beauty goal. If I really loved myself, and if I truly considered myself a feminist, I wouldn’t shave. I wouldn’t put on eye-liner or spend time styling my hair. 

What irritates me so much about this is the assumption that I’m not making my own decisions. As if I’ve been so brutalized by advertising and magazines, so brainwashed by Evil Men, that I can’t even see “how fucked up it is that women DO shave their legs”. Please, ladies, give yourselves a little respect. This attitude casts all appearance-conscious, make-up wearing women as helpless victims of some kind of evil beauty regime. If you don’t want to shave your pits- please, don’t! In fact, I think it it super rad and kick-ass of you. Personally, I shave because if I don’t, I smell like skunk. Seriously. My BO smells like skunk, and it’s worse when I don’t shave. But by all means, if you want to be a member of the Hairy Pits Club, or if you want to rock that unibrow, do. I support you 100%. Just refrain from judging me for my choices. Don’t assume that my Clinique mascara and my Benefit POREfessional pore reducing cream make me any less of a kick-ass sister. You and I both believe that our appearances shouldn’t affect how seriously we are taken by society. The difference is that my appearance (that is, the fact that I wear make-up) reflects traditionally Female practices (women have been using make-up since before Eve). So we come back to my original point: by making choices that are traditionally associated with women and female gender roles, I’m basically “unempowered”. 

I agree, with all of my heart, that beauty standards today are unfair. (This is by no means limited to girls. Have you ever watched a porno? Seen a magazine rack at the supermarket? Both genders are held to an impossible aesthetic. Duh.) But, please, make your own decisions. Don’t assume that I’m not living up to my full feminine and feminist potential just because I don’t want a six-figure salary and hairy legs. I mean, I believe that if you want both of those things, it is your unalienable right to have them (or, in the case of the six-figure salary, it’s your right to try. Six is a lot of figures).

Now I have a headache and need to take a nap or something. But I’ll be back to write about sex and also about blowjobs and cumming later. Goodbye. 

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