I’m a feminist. Oh dear god, how will you ever be able to read my blog posts again with knowing that I stand for equals rights for everyone? I have no idea.
I must be a man hater if I’m a feminist, right? No. The feminist idea doesn’t think that women are better than men. I don’t think that at all. Feminism is about equality for all genders but in my eyes, it’s about equality for everyone.
All gender inequality affects all genders including men and feminism is not just for women, it’s for men too. Yes, it became a noted thing in the UK during the suffragette movement when women didn’t have the right to have a say in political standards. However, today, men are also treated unequally to women.
Men are not given custody of children for being seen as less ‘motherly’ than women which in my eyes, is bullshit. Yes mothers do normally have a higher maternal feelings towards their kids than men. However, a man should have their rights over their kid and should be given custody if the mother is unstable or seen as unfit or a danger to the child.
We, as humans, are treated unequally from the day we were born and it grows more obvious when you get older.
Whenever I watched Disney as a child, it was always the knight in shiny armour who saved the princess and it gave the message that we, as women, are weak and always need help from the other sex. Well that again is crap and we can save the other sex too.
Yes, I do cry ‘like a girl’ and no, that isn’t an insult. It isn’t a weakness and is nothing to be ashamed of.
When I got my period, I was 11 years old. I was ashamed by boys as it was seen as disgusting and whenever, I was on my period, I would refuse to go to school due to the dread of leaking. I was embarrassed about my early boob development and the first time I was catcalled was when I was only 12 years old… 12. I was wearing shorts. Catcalling isn’t a compliment and my length of my shorts isn’t as invitation for it. Even now, I am too scared to wear tops and jeans which show my figure incase I get stared at by men as old as my dad.
When I was 13, I was told that it wasn’t attractive not to wear makeup so everyday, I would paint my face to please the beauty standards of my sex.
When I was 14, I had to use the lie that I had a boyfriend which would stop grown men and teenage boys from hitting on me. They’d appreciate the excuse of another man than my lack of interest or the right to say no.
I’m 15 and I don’t like walking home by myself at night. I’m scared by the figures and the warning of rape. I’m scared of the catcalls. I’m scared that nobody would listen to me when I would say no and to be asked the most common question ‘What were you wearing?’
There’s been so many times when I have said no or I’m not interested or I’m too young but I’ve been ignored and still made feel uncomfortable.
I don’t want my children to feel like it’s normal to feel unsafe in the dark and to be warned about the needs of the other sex.
Because funnily enough, my needs and my wants are higher than a society’s desire to shape me.
I’m not weak.
I’m not a sexualised object.
I’m not a cry baby.
I’m not girly.
I’m not a tomboy.
I’m not being difficult or trying hard to play.
I’m a young independent women,
with the right to say no,
with my own thoughts,
with my own needs