Michael accused me of using a nuclear approach of addressing issues on my mind in my last post. So, I’m going to attempt to address at least one of those topics in a little more depth.
Feminism. For a long time I didn’t self-identify as a feminist. Not to say that I was anti-feminist. I just didn’t feel too connected to the image I had of feminists. I expected equal treatment for myself and other women, but somehow the label didn’t seem to fit me.
It still makes me mad when I think about my college professor who told me that being a woman was all I had going for me and my chances of getting into vet school. The issues of children, and how many, and stay at home motherhood, or not have been ones that I’ve defended either choice—as just that, a choice, and a personal one at that. And there are some issues that I just can’t seem to get worked up about (this just doesn’t induce “seething rage” in me).
So anyway. My recent musings on feminism have stemmed from reading a few feminist themed books. I think it sort of startled me when I realized that that was indeed what these books were, and so I began to reassess my self-identification. And what I’ve come up with is that yes, I’m a feminist, in this sense of feminism.
And related to Pooka’s comment, the part of one of these books that I disliked most was the part where the authors were indicating that being in relationships with men was a hindrance to feminine spiritual enlightenment.
It kind of reminds me of an experience I had a few months ago. I was at church working in the library, and someone asked me where I work. I told him and his response was, “Oh, you're one of those environmentalists…” And quickly I said, “No, I’m biomedical researcher.” I thought about that afterward—I don’t hate the environment. I like trees. I like animals. And yet I was very quick to not be categorized as “one of those environmentalists.”
