• Charlotte

Feminist eye rolls.




I was recently told, by a loved one, that I should think about 'chilling out' with my feminist posts. It's too much - too feminist, too in your face, just too much. This really brought a smile to my face. I was told that people are intending to unfollow me on social media, because they cannot deal with my frequent onslaught of feminist cackling and the like (I do love a good cackle).


Taking a step back and thinking about this - what does my feminism have to do with you? I'm not looking to convert anyone - feminism is not a religious cult (not to me, anyway), and all I'm doing is expressing my own thoughts and feelings about things that really itch my shit. So basically I'm being told to not be me?


Whilst my feminist inclinations have increased over the past year (helped along wonderfully by intentional feminist meet ups and the end of my PhD), this does not mean that this has not always been there, I just feel more comfortable with my feminist skin. The number of eye rolls have increased (see Sara Ahmed's gorgeous writing about this), the glances in my direction when someone picks up on something pertaining to a feminist issue awaiting my reaction are increasing, and my parents are insisting that I'm going through some kind of pre-mid-life crisis.


But thinking back, this has always been there.


I remember starting to hate clubbing as an undergraduate student, because of the frequent times someone (99.9% of the time male) would touch or grab me in a club, resulting in my angry reaction for which we'd have to then leave.


I remember reading Matilda as a young girl and feeling the sense of injustice that she was told she couldn't do things because she was just a little girl.


I remember extended family only ever being interested in what I'm wearing or how I'm looking (even still, to this day), whereas my brother gets asked much more exciting questions about his work, hobbies, and general life.


I remember going out as a family, and the occasions where people in shops or restaurants only addressed my dad, and thinking why were they ignoring my mom.


I remember a teacher writing in my secondary school leavers book 'see you in Playboy'.


The feminist in me was always there - I just didn't have an outlet to discuss my frustration, or really put a cause to the issues.


But now I do. If you don't like it, don't let the door hit you on the way out.

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