I am a feminist, I am not feminism.

I recently had a conversation with a friend about the fact that they don’t want to identify as a feminist because they like wearing makeup. They care about their appearance, they enjoy playing with face paint (as I like to call it), and they are sick of the shit they have been getting for it. (Before this starts a minor riot of sub-tweets, my friend lives in the USA, she is not part of the NZ feminist circles.) The conversation made me angry.

Mostly angry at people who would push a woman away from supporting their beliefs because of how she presents herself. But also angry at her, for thinking a small group of women, who identify as feminists, ARE feminism.  And it made me think about how those of us who identify as a sub group, niche, clique, activist circle, coven, or whatever you want to call it protect our domain.

And I want to shout FUCK THAT.

For me feminism is simple.

Equality. Equality between all people across the gender spectrum. And yes, my personal way of going about it tends to be reminding women what they have the right to, and reminding men to have respect.

 

Some feminists protect women.

 

Some feminists argue with men.

 

Some feminists fight the system while some work within the system, undermining policy that protects imbalance.

Some feminists show their colours on the outside.

Some feminists have to conform so that they can get into spaces that are not “safe spaces."

 

Some feminists use pseudonyms, some don’t.

No one person pops out a fully formed feminist. It's a learning experience, growing and changing and developing as you do. I suspect as I become more disabled with age that my feminism will evolve with it.

There is a massive range of feminists, and combined, they make up the thriving vital varied growing mass that is feminism. None of them has the crown of Feminist Super Queen. There is no supreme feminist of which we can all aspire to. There are only ideals, and millions of different people who seek to fulfil them in a myriad of ways.

Over and over again I see feminists dismissing each other because they don’t have the same brand of feminism. Not educated enough, too rough, too brown, too white, too trans, too pretty, too privileged, too inexperienced. I’m pretty sure I’m too fucking bossy.

There is a huge spectrum out there, and there are feminists that I don’t like the behaviour of, or the personality of, or the ignorance of, or I don’t like their choices. Me not liking them has zero impact on whether they are a feminist. The only thing me liking them changes is whether we are friends.

Interestingly enough the only people who loudly proclaim to be feminists that I genuinely want to strip of their badges and send them back to feminism school are the TERFS, and they aren’t advocating for equality. They loudly denounce trans women as less than cis, and yet they never seem to think they are less feminist for it.

Chances are if you are questioning whether you are a feminist, you probably are. And if you don’t like someone else’s brand of feminism, then don’t hang out with them. Keep looking; keep being honest about what you think. Keep reading, keep learning, and eventually you find your tribe.

There are very few things that make me think someone cannot be a feminist. And they all come back to undermining the equality of people.

Quite frankly, if you are telling someone they can’t be in your cool feminist clubhouse, that’s pretty damn unequal isn’t it…

 

Image thanks to the talented Skottie Young - BUY A PRINT!

 

The end of another Decade

Image thanks to @AlastairJNZ

Every year I try and use my birthday as a marker point for “where I am at”. It’s a chance to review, and look back on how I’m doing, where I’m headed, and if I want to stay in that direction.

This year is a little different. Partly because I’m turning 30, and am old enough to see aging for the bitch it is, and young enough for decades to still mean a lot.

The other part is that this year has been really really hard.

I don’t mean, “oh yeah, work has been stressful and I hated my flatmates” hard.

I mean, “name an aspect of my life and there is a high probability that it has had to change substantially” hard.

I was sitting in training tonight with a phenomenal view over Auckland harbour. The light was pouring in from the west, and there was an enormous black cloud to the east, out over the harbour and covering the Coromandle and east Auckland.  There was some SERIOUSLY bad weather going on over there, the clouds blocked any kind of view, and it was clear the rain was torrential.

But from where I was sitting, and the way the light was hitting it, it was the most stunning sunset I have seen this year.

The clouds were lit up purple, the sea was a deep pearly grey black, and the yachts were lit up like fairies, flying across the water returning into safe berth. The sun was lighting the clouds over me from below, and they were breaking up and showing all different shades of pink and orange.

I sat there a bit stunned by the gorgeousness of it all, and stupidly overwhelmed with how well tonight’s sunset summarised my year.

Those big black metaphorical clouds, haven’t been long gone. I can still smell the rain in the air, and it’s going to take a while to clear up. But right now, having gotten past the storm, life is as beautiful as it has ever been. And sometimes that’s all you can ask.

This year in summary.

I have experienced Loss.

I have lost friends.

I have lost family.

I have lost a love.

I have lost a future that I held as certain as I have ever held any future.

I have lost the body I was proud of, the strength I was sure of, and the certainty of what my health will be in the future.

I have lost an element of hope and optimism, and I’m sorry to say my heart is harder than it was.

I have lost something deeply important to me, which I’m still not ready to admit or talk about.

I have Gained.

I have gained friends.

Oh my god. You guys are AMAZING. I have met the most vibrant, exciting, scintillating, fascinating, brilliant, kind and generous people this year. I have made more new friends this year than I did in the four years previous combined.

I have strengthened and rejuvenated old friendships.

I’m so so proud to say that the same girls that jumped up and down dancing like loons at my 21^st will all be there on Saturday for my 30^th. We have fewer things in common, but they are my sisters. They know my heart, and I love them so deeply.

I have gained a new space in my heart.

I became a godmother, my friends have had children and I have found a whole new space in my chest, all ready to adore these little people. Every time I see my godson and his sisters I’m surprised by the depth of how much I adore them, and I feel a great sense of honour that their parents allow me to be so much a part of their family. This participation means more than they can possibly know.

I have gained a career.

For the first time in my life I feel as though I have a career, not just a job. I have a sense of purpose, job satisfaction, I am making a very real difference, and I can see a career path that excites me deeply.

I have gained strength.

What feels like a cruel, bitter hardening of my heart right now will eventually soften, and these experiences have given me new skills, ways to cope, and resilience for the future.

I have gained pride.

I have overcome a lot this year and although I’ve had a huge amount of support when I called for it, I have essentially done it alone. No one else got me out of bed and into work. No one else kept me doing what I needed to do to keep my mind well through all that grief. I did it.
I fucking survived, and right now is the first time I’ve taken the time to feel proud of what I have made it through.

I have gained new skills.
I am learning new tricks, have passed a correspondence course, have started a new volunteer job and am learning an instrument.

Partly this is because some of my old hobbies have had to stop, with the Arthritis, but I’m genuinely excited about these new skills, and pleased to say in spite of all the turmoil, I’ve continued to grow and achieve.

I have gained independence.

I’ve always enjoyed and been good at being single, but the last year has been a real learning curve. For the first time I feel truly independent, less chained to what other people think, and confident enough to follow my own path.  I have maintained my sense of community, while realising that I can’t save anyone but myself, and to TRULY let that go was a challenge.  Living my own life, with integrity, is something I am feeling more confident in.

I feel like my world has literally been turned upside down.

It seemed like a bad thing when it was happening. But now, now I look at my life and it’s something I’m proud of. This plant may have its roots in shit, but it grew twice as fast and 10x as strong because of it.

I won’t ever wish for a smooth ride, because boring isn’t something I do well. But the ability to sail through a storm, and be able to use my support crew, and my own skills to get through it, that’s a hell of a gift.

To those of you reading this who have been there with me for the ride.

Thank you .

I can’t thank you enough.

Let me get you a drink and a hug on Saturday.

X

Scube

Image thanks to @PaulaAMelville

Not a nerd.

I am apparently “not really a nerd”.
I was discussing nerd stuff with a friend the other night and Doctor Who came up.
Doctor Who came up because I proud to self identify as a nerd, and we had been having some awesome discussions about nerd stuff...

Neverwhere vs. any of Terry Pratchett. – Bloody hard call but I gotta go with Terry for the politics.

Firefly – how funny is the fact that people actually started collecting money for Nathan Fillian seriously thinking that he would waste that amount purchasing the rights to a show??
(For those who have wanted to donate, Nathan suggests a good NFP – Perhaps a safe home for puppies against cancer in childen?)

Various nerdy podcasts (including Freakonomics – go get it NOW) and how much we love them.

When Doctor Who came up, I had nothing. As far as I am concerned it may as well be “Doctor Who?”, because the programme scared me as a kid, and bored me as an adult so badly I haven’t even bothered watching the new versions.
So yep, I don’t like Doctor Who.

“You don’t like Dr. Who? - you are sooooo not a nerd.”
“But I like Trek and Babylon 5...”
“Yeah but, jeeez. You really don’t like it?”

I just about had to hand over my coms badge and ray gun there on the spot.*

It made me laugh because for all the other nerdy things I do in my life, disliking one element that she was really passionate about was enough to undermine my identity in her eyes.

I didn’t really care; my nerd status has been pretty much set since WELL before nerd was trendy.
When I was 11 lunch times consisted of time in the library curled up with Stephen King, Terry Pratchett and the Alanna series.
Or when I was 12 and only had one real friend at school and we played chess all lunch time (A massive hug to Grover Boy at this point).
Or when at 13 I realised I was the only one who had already read all of Shakespeare’s comedies and tragedies.
Or at Uni, when I sat and read everything I could find on Fibonacci sequences, because I got interested in the maths behind art.

So yep, I didn’t really care what she thought.

Last week in yet another shitty mood that comes with this season I was sitting thinking about it...
How DARE someone undermine my self-identity?

It is called self identity for a reason, and if I want to call myself a nerd I can. If my particular brand of nerdiness isn’t enough for someone then they can bugger off.
Same goes with anything really.
I know it was just because I was in a bad mood that I cared what someone else thinks, but seriously – I will identify myself how I like, and that identity is flexible and my own choice.



*I don’t actually have a coms badge or ray gun. Or any other uniform. But I have friends who do.

Tall Poppy syndrome is alive and well in the blogosphere

There is feminism, and then there is Feminism.
There is first wave, second wave, a token wave to, and ‘the revelation hit me like a wave” Feminism.
There are young people just learning and starting out, and older women who have battled for a generation or more already.
None of us are alike, but all are invested in equality, it is only our knowledge of the world around us that varies how we practice what we do.

I must confess that one of the biggest deterrents to blogging was the large amount of sniping and criticism that goes on in blogging circles.
This isn’t a “lady problem” or even uniquely feminist. I find the same thing in atheist circles, parenting blogs, and science groups.
If someone is passionate enough about something to write at least once a week on the topic, then they have got confirmed theories, opinions and issues around the topic already. Add to the mix the amount of anger that can stand behind marginalised groups, and the fact that each person is a different medley of minorities and it is a volatile mix.

I love the debate of the comments sections because I can choose or not choose to engage.
It gives all sides an opportunity to explain themselves if needed, and provides an open forum to potential resolution and understanding in both parties.

I’m less fond of the growing trend of passive aggression by the way of writing a critical analysis of someone else’s point of view and separating into two camps without constructive discussion between the two. It's all well and good if you overtly disagree with the entire thing (my example would be the tits out campaign). However if you like a concept but they have missed mentioning something that is YOUR baby (whether it is the forgetting the inclusion of your group, or the way something is worded) don’t immediately run back to base and undermine an entire cause.
Discuss with the organisers your concerns in private.
Discuss with the organisers your concerns in public.
Then look at reasons that have been put out there, and if they are still unreasonable by all means, step up and take a stand.

Before you do all this, take a look at the organisers.
A corporate group with their own legal team and plenty of moolah to research should know better, and should take feedback on board and make changes swiftly.
(Hello The Rock FM and HAHAHAHA to your latest ratings btw).
A volunteer group may not have the resources, but should also have people’s best interests at heart.
A blogger... well who are they?
Are they just some shmuck who likes to write, a person with their own passions for human rights but a fledgling knowledge of all the issues?
Or are they a well informed person who should know better and is well respected and widely read?
Are they a cover for someone on the other side trying to undermine a cause?
(The “vote on my abortion” fiasco would be a good example of this).

Take a look at who you are trying change, and why.
The range of opinions on the internet is what makes it so cool, and I would hate to pasteurise our feminist movement through fear of criticism.

So next time you decide to jump on a good cause because there is something you don’t like about it take a deep breath.
Is it really their job to cover ALL the issues at once?
Is there a trend of offensive behaviour or exclusion?
Have you even asked why they have done what they did?
Have you given them the opportunity to improve?
What are YOU willing to do as far as putting in working hours to help find a solution?

Or are you just doing this to bolster your own profile and have something to write about in your own space?
Tall poppy syndrome is international, not just a kiwi issue. The internet has shown this to me.


Disclaimer: I started writing this when I first started my blog and it always sounded like "why are people so meeeeeean?" it has taken me this long to whittle it to a more functional version. If I didnt know you 18 months ago, it has nothing to do with you! (except you jerks mentioned in the examples!)

Fuck; Im Not a tomboy?

I’m sitting here with bright red nails, in a house that has a sewing machine, craft cupboard, and inordinate amount of women’s hats.
I’m quite a ‘feminine’ woman most of the time.
I also have hiking boots, a white water helmet and a bunch of rad-ass science nerd bits and pieces.
As an aside, I also have a kick ass bone collection, but that’s just seen as a bit odd, rather than traditionally gendered one way or the other.

Most of my childhood was spent thinking I was a tomboy.
I must have been; I never wore pink. I didn’t wear dresses.
I didn’t play with dolls, I liked to build things and climb trees.
So I must have been a tomboy.
Right?

When I was about 11 I said to a friend “well, you know; I’m such a Tom-boy.”
“No you aren’t! You like girl stuff.”
“Wha...???”
The thing was, at her place I painted my nails, and tried lipstick, and played dress –ups in actual dresses. I LOVED her Barbie collection and stayed pretty clean, because they didn’t have a yard.

Was I pretending to be a girly-girl to fit in?

As a confident kid, I wasn’t the type to pretend to be something I wasn’t.
The simple fact was that there were no pink, or dresses, or dolls, or girly crap at my house.
The option simply wasn’t there.
My wonderful mother decided when her baby was a little girl that I would decide who I was, and how gendered I was, in whatever direction I would choose, when I was ready. However she didn’t really provide balance, since I guess she figured the world provided it for her.

Mums third child was another girl, and by then she had relaxed the rules a bit.
While I had a pirate party and a lords and ladies party, and loved them both I would have KILLED for a fairy party.
On the eve of my little sister’s 4th birthday mum sat up until the wee hours sewing a gorgeous little fairy costume for her fairy party.
In the morning there was much excitement over the cute tutu based dress with a glitter heart on the front.
My sister took one look at the dress and burst into tears.
Hell NO - she was not going to wear that thing!!!
Once Mum realised that my sister wasn’t going to wear the dress, I think she was close to joining her on the floor in floods.
All that work for nothing!
The party went without a hitch with the birthday girl dressed in her usual shorts and t shirt. I was a bit too old for a fairy party but sucked up as much pink, and glitter, and fairy-ness as my 10 year old self could do.
After the party I snuck into my sister’s room and tried desperately to squeeze into the dress.
At 6 years age difference there was not a chance, but I think we figured out who the tom-boy is!!!

So I spent a large portion of my developmental life identifying as something I wasn’t simply because my mother set me up that way...

Do Mothers realise how much power they have?
I assumed that Mum didn’t, but at Christmas this year she told a story...

Apparently when she was a child she and her brother were told that they didn’t like cake.
Not that they weren’t allowed it – of course if they wanted it they could have it – but they didn’t like it.
So there would be some sandwiches and cakes at church tea and Mum would be told what the sandwiches were, and reminded (so she didn’t have to suffer) that the other option was cake – But she didn’t like cake. It took until she was about 11 until she realised that she did in-fact like cake, as did her brother.
What the fuck?

How many quality years of gorging on cake did she miss out on? I should report the woman to cyfs.

So in conclusion, Mum knew damn well what she was doing. All you other Mums out there - enjoy pulling the wool over your kids eyes for now, because around about age 11 they are going to start realising what they really do and don’t like, and choosing for themselves.



Also... a BIG round of applause to my lovely mother who allowed all three of us kids to decide who we were in our own time. We tried all sorts and eventually settled into our own skins.
Thanks to her we are all supremely comfortable with who we are since it was a self controlled process.
Our lives were ours to build and she was ‘just’ there to support the process.
Thanks Mum.

Who is questioning whom?

Last week over a glass of wine I was subtly (or not so subtly) insulted by a friend.
Her question?
Do you ever worry that people will perceive you badly once they know you are a Feminist?
My response was “are you worried that I will perceive you differently having heard you saying that?”
She looked baffled, and quickly changed the topic.

I work in an industry where if we stop selling our products we no longer have jobs, and perception is everything.
We recently did a seminar on branding. Not just branding our industry, workplace and product but also ourselves.
It made me think about my own personal brand, how I dress, communicate and express myself with both my colleagues and staff that I am teaching.
Part of this is my identity and how much of that I give away.

Deliberately I don’t give much away at all. My friends at work know I am living with my male partner, that I am interested in musical theatre, that I love the beach, belong to a gym, write for a “women’s interest blog” and that I had a car accident in the past.
My colleagues I don’t socialise with know I have a partner, used to be a nurse in the OR and am based in *******. Further out from there and I hope all they know about me is my work ethic and education/professional history.

My beliefs have very little part in my workplace.
In the same way that when I was a nurse I had to give good, empathetic care to drink drivers and child molesters; in business I have to be pleasant to red neck assholes and over privileged men.
All of this is much easier if they don’t KNOW I think they are assholes.

Information is power, and the less people know, the more they will assume that you agree with them while you smile and nod, and the more they will tell you- therefore the more power you have.

So actually, yes, I do worry that people will judge me by the labels I give myself.
So I try not to use them.
For example I use partner, not boyfriend because it is none of their business what level my relationship is at, or who it is with.
I don’t discuss my politics and unless I am seriously pushed I don’t identify my beliefs.

I found it interesting that disclosing that she was concerned about the image of feminism revealed more about her than it did me.
I now assume she may not stand up for herself, that she may not put her career first, that she is perhaps not particularly interested in fostering mentoring in medicine and business for young women.

Not fair assumptions.
Certainly not positive.

It is interesting how much we give away just by questioning someone else’s identity.