I wasn’t always so involved with the woman’s rights movement. I was the typical high school girl gossiping about what other girls wore in gym class and who slept with who on prom night. I knew my rights as a woman were important but I didn’t know exactly all that went into getting us where we are today. As a kid I always seemed to shy away from gender roles. One birthday my mother bought me a pink dress and I simply refused to wear it because it was pink and “I don’t have to wear pink if I don’t want to.” I didn’t understand my absolute hatred for the idea of anything feminine at the time but now I contribute it to me not liking to be told what to do, even if it was indirectly. When I was born my nursery was forcibly painted pale pink which I hated even into my early teenage years where I then rebelliously painted over it with black. The subtle notions that society told my mom was right really just pissed me off. Why do I have to wear a dress on Christmas? Why do I have to get my ears pierced? Now that I’m older I largely contribue my detest for all things feminine to my rejection of the ever so prominent patriarchy in my life. I didn’t know how to tell my mother that I didn’t want to wear pink because I didn’t like pink, I did like the color pink- still do, it’s because I didn’t like to be told that that’s what I had to like in order to make me a proper female.
Since I’m older now I choose not to rebel against anything that is the typical “femme thing to do” I love wearing dresses, make-up, jewelry and it’s often a misconception of feminism to be opposed to those things. People hear me get in a passionate discussion about feminism, look me head to toe, and question my intentions all together. I believe that by rejecting most aspects of femininity like those the patriarchy essentially wins. I’m going to take control of what I can and can’t do. Sure I could dress like a total stripper if I wanted to, that doesn’t give anyone the right to over-sexualize my body, and the same goes if all I wore was sweats and a t-shirt. But again, I digress. Being the most ideal form of a woman that the media portrays doesn’t make that woman any less likely of being an active member of the feminist movement.
Since I questioned so much of what was right and wrong for me to do as a little girl when I became older and more aware and much more tech-savvy and one day happened to stumble upon a feminist blog on tumblr. I was curiously reading which I always do when something in me just felt moved. Of course I wasn’t thinking about activism and social justice when I was a child hating dresses and earrings. Reading social bloggers just spoke to me. I think the line I drew when it was decided that I was really against the patriarchy wasn’t just one definitive moment, but a collaboration of the way that every male has looked at me since I hit puberty. I always felt really uncomfortable around older men even if they hadn’t posed a threat. I became so untrustworthy of guys. Seeing my girl friends in the same light didn’t help much either. Watching my friend walk into the gas station and seeing a man seemingly open the door for her out of kind-heartedness but quickly grabbing her ass the second she steps inside the store was a very awakening experience. I just became so mad at everyone who thinks that that’s okay. Riding in my friend’s cars when they would whistle at girl’s on the streets or yelling at girls walking to their cars from the club calling them “sluts” didn’t sit well with me.
The biggest question I ask myself lately is where the hell do I draw the line? – Should I have given a huge thought provoking “feminist killjoy” lecture to my drunk friends in the car that night? Should I have gotten my very reasonable PINK mace out of my car and gone and pepper sprayed that asshole who felt up my friend? Do I bring up every seemingly offhand comment that a family makes about a woman’s appearance when it makes me uncomfortable? I used to be the one joking around with my brother talking about how that girl’s shorts are too short. Should I devote my energy to convincing my uncle that I’m not exaggerating the extent of rape culture and street harassment, even though I know repeatedly having the same argument frustrates him? When do I bite my tongue in the hopes of not alienating my family members that otherwise I love and get along with? Do I correct my twelve-year-old cousin every time he makes a sexist or racist comment because he does not yet understand why it’s wrong? Do I go off on a tangent to the man who works at 7-11 and calls me sweetie every morning not knowing how uncomfortable it makes me?
I know my situation isn’t as bad as it could be considering but it’s just hard for me when my aunt- a fellow woman, shouts at me across the table and tells me to “turn off the feminsm, Chandler.” Believe me, I’ve tried. But I can’t take off the social justice hat. Once it’s on, my eyes are open. I have now come to accept the fact that I’m going to get pissed when I see a comercial on tv directly aimed to little girls in attempts to make them “prettier”. I’ve accepted the fact that when someone I’m around says something that makes me uncomfortable or I find offensive, I’m going to bring it up and have a discussion with them about it. I don’t mind if they get mad because to me, the risk is worth it. It is something I’m passionate about and something that I see that is wrong with the world.
The thing is, is that I do care. Maybe I care a little too much but for me there is nothing wrong with passion. I might make a few more enemies here and there or piss off my family members at a few holiday gatherings but I will voice my opinion. There is no off-switch.
Girls Are From Jupiter 