Not too long ago, I was called a feminist.
At the time, this bothered me because like a lot of people, I had no real understanding of the word. I pictured your stereotypical woman who hates men and burns her bra on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. But never once did I imagine that I could be one of “them.” Feminists were women who hated men, were staunchly pro-abortion, wanted the world to be run by only women, and any other number of fictional monstrosities.
Boy, was I ever wrong.
“Feminist” has become the label that society places on women who are strong and independent and for some odd reason, like to have an opinion. And you know what, that makes me one of them.
Feminism is actually the active attempt to change the condition of women in society. Wow, imagine that, someone wanting to make things better. No wonder the idea is so looked down upon.
In society today, women doing the same jobs as men still make less money than their male counterparts.
Women are not promoted as quickly as men because they may become pregnant and have to miss work.
Women are turned down for jobs because they are not “qualified,” but when attempting to gain such qualifications, women are not given an equal opportunity at education.
Some would make the argument that there are certain things that are “men’s work” and that women have no business attempting. The most recent example given to me was a strenuous physical task. In my opinion, if the woman is qualified, then she has as much of a right to that job as any man. But, if she’s not qualified, then she has no right to the job.
This brings to light an interesting argument, one that was made long before my humble writings.
In her “A Vindication of the Rights of Woman,” Mary Wollstonecraft talks about the dilemma of women of her time, and I think in part it still applies today to the difference in the way that society raises male and female children.
She wrote: “To preserve personal beauty, woman’s glory, the limbs and faculties are cramped with worse than Chinese bands, and the sedentary life which they are condemned to live, whilst boys frolic in the open air, weakens the muscles and relaxes the nerves.”
Maybe the root of sexism lies in the way we condition our young people into thinking and behaving. Maybe it’s been rooted there for centuries.
All too often, we treat children differently based on their gender. We tell our girls that it’s OK to cry, but when our boys do it, we tell them to toughen up and stop acting like girls.
This perpetuates the idea that it’s ok to be a boy but not ok to be a girl. We accept it easier when our little girls act like boys than we do when our boys even show the sign of a possible feminine characteristic.
Why should it be ok for our girls to cry and not our boys? That is one of the things that needs to be changed.
When you look at it, all of the social changes that America relishes have begun with a few radical people who saw a problem and knew that things could be
better. If those people had given up when they were called things and labeled as “bad people,” then conditions in this country would be much different.
Realizing this, it is not such a bad thing to be called a feminist. Wanting change is not bad.
In the memory of my foremothers, the Sojourner Truths, the Mary Wollstonecrafts, the Susan B. Anthonys, I will wear that badge with pride.
My name is Abby Morris, and I am a feminist.

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