I Was Terrified of Feminism
But I turned my fear into power — here’s how.
If you asked me about feminism last year, here’s what I’d say:
- Women can vote
- My dad pays his female and male employees the same salary
- It pisses people off, and I’m a people-pleaser
- Case closed; I’ll never be a feminist.
I didn’t hate feminism, per se, although it felt unnerving. I sympathized with the movement, especially those coming forward with #metoo. But I resented the hashtag for reminding me of my own painful memories.
Pretending I didn’t care about my past was easier. No one could hurt me except my own damn self, I believed.
But I was terrified underneath my facade.
Bad timing, I think, sparked my initial fear.
Most little girls imagine their first kiss as a magical Disney moment, and I was no exception. But the reality was not a fairy tale.
I was sleeping over at my friend’s house. Her boyfriend, Alex, hung out with us all night, and he was waiting for his mom to pick him up when my friend went to bed.
Alex wanted me to finish watching a movie with him. I felt uncomfortable but agreed. I thought he’d be leaving soon, anyway.
