Month: April 2014

On Feminism

It took me a long time to realise I was a feminist, mostly because I always thought being a feminist meant burning my bra, shaving my head and becoming a lesbian. I used to quickly defend myself whenever I called out sexism and my guy friends called me a feminist. “I’m not like an actual feminist” I’d insist. God forbid, right? One day, after I said this, a friend asked me “Why not, don’t you want equality for women?” I answered “Why, of course I do”. And then she said the most liberating thing to me. She said: “Then you are a feminist.” See, the media always like to put up images of angry, negative, man-hating extremists that are nearly impossible to relate to, and then slap the “feminist” label on her. And even if women try to be feminists, an army of journalists are ready to pick her apart and point out all the ways she isn’t feminist enough: “Beyonce is too naked, too married, too pregnant, too sexy, to be a feminist.” Never mind the fact …