How to be a feminist. No, really, how?
I grew up feisty. I was strong headed, opinionated and very sure of my worldview as a teenager. Then, at 20 I got married. I became a mother at 21. I drifted from one day to the next for about 12 years, and only when I could no longer recognise myself, or even remember who I really was, I decided to exit the marriage with my child and a dog and start. I could say start over, but it doesn’t seem right somehow.
At 35 I found myself in a world that I no longer recognised, having to make a living, pay the rent, school fees and feed the family. My mother stepped in to help me, and moved in with us. It was all new yet I fell into the familiar pattern of surviving from one day to the next. There just wasn’t time enough to explore who I really was, what I stood for, how I felt about any given thing. Pragmatism can make you incredibly short sighted.
Then I turned forty. I had made friends, I interacted, reacted and responded to this world without still having made a decision, but now I could hear my feelings. This made me happy, that made me sad. I started recognising happiness, anger, confusion, fear, love, distaste, and nonchalance as responses. I finally understood how I felt about my job, about my colleagues, my ex and events. I could finally differentiate between things I did because I loved doing them and things that I had to do. Things that didn’t fall in either category, I just stopped doing. I also found out that I am a feminist, and found out that I am terrible at it. This blog is my attempt to introspect, understand, probably interact with some of you out there to decide on the right way to behave and respond to this world that helps my feminist agenda.