To be honest, I’m not sure I know. Can a man be a feminist, or just a feminist sympathiser? Can a feminist be anti-choice, or subscribe to a patriarchal religion? Does a feminist have to be part of a feminist group?
I’m not actually going to answer any of these questions, but anyone else is welcome to try. What I will say is that feminists can come in all shapes and sizes and don’t have to be hairy vegan lesbians who call themselves feminazis and shop at Savemart (sorry if this is you).
When I was about 15, a fifth former at Palmerston North Girls’ High School, I said something about being a feminist.
“You’re not a feminist!” a friend of mine said.
Back then, amongst the women and girls I knew, feminism was a dirty word. It meant bra-burning dykes who hated men and possibly lived in communes—certainly not a 15-year-old me (despite having blue hair, tunnels and wearing some really fucking weird Savemart clothes).
Around the same time, that friend and I, and two others, made a band. It was called Riot Girl. We didn’t know anything about the riot grrrl movement—the name was suggested by my sister, a punk rocker—and we were far more Josie and the Pussycats than L7, but the name meant something to us. It meant that in a city dominated by male bands, where we were one of about three chick bands, we were indominable. A girl band could be cool, we could give all the guys a run for their money—and we did.
A few years later, I signed up at Vic for Law, Politics and Gender Studies. I dropped Gender Studies after six months, finding it limited what a feminist was, what a woman should be like, and what feminism’s role in society was. In the same way I’ve found feminism presented in informal circles at Victoria and beyond—including VUWSA exec meetings—a feminist was a certain type of women.
In a 2007 exec meeting I attended as Salient news editor, there was a discussion over feminism, Cosmopolitan magazine and the Women’s Room that left me bemused. As I recall, the President had somehow gotten some free craft magazines and some copies of Cosmopolitan (I don’t know where from). The Women’s Rights Officer said they couldn’t accept the craft magazines—craft would only serve to oppress women and to keep them in subservient domestic roles. Another female exec member disagreed—feminists had reclaimed craft, it was an activity they could do separately or together which could empower them.
The same executive member said there was no way, however, the Cosmopolitan magazines could go into the Women’s Room—it wasn’t the sort of thing women should be reading. Now, I acknowledge Cosmo is fluff and repeats its 100 greatest bedroom secrets for (straight) couples bi-annually, but shouldn’t the women using the room be given the option of reading it? Perhaps they were going to the Women’s Room for downtime and wanted to read escapist fluff and 20 ways to wear a scarf, but in the end, they weren’t given that option by the exec. Feminists, ladies and gentlemen, do not read Cosmopolitan magazine.
In case you’re getting lost in what I’m trying to say, let me lay it down: I identify as being a feminist, but I disagree with a lot of what ‘feminists’ say. I fit the stereotype in that I’m a pro-choice, pro-sexual equality, bleeding heart greenie liberal. But I would rather read Vogue than feminist literature, will likely never employ the services of a Mooncup and have moved on from the time I went to Big Day Out just to see Sleater-Kinney.
The impression I get from many feminists, especially around this city, is that they believe a feminist has to be a certain way—they aren’t blonde or skinny like Barbie, they read Greer and Wollstonecraft, they visit the Handmirror Blog and some even tell the editor of Salient he’s supporting rape by not printing a full-page women’s column each week (regardless of the Women’s Rights Officer not wanting a full-page weekly column).
So what, then, is a feminist?
Anyone, I believe, can identify themselves as a feminist. It’s about empowering women, supporting women domestically and around the world and believing the sexes should be equal. Feminists look different, read different things, listen to different music, dress differently, and not all of them wear Doc Martens or enjoy tofu. They can be a lawyer, a prostitute, a nurse or an army officer. They can agree to disagree on some issues, and find common ground on others.