Feminist №1

Girls Who Ride Horses

The first time I really, genuinely thought about the fact that I was a girl, I was five. My dad had taken me to a playground at one of the old British clubs in Cairo, Egypt. I was riding a toy horse side-saddle, and I fell off. My dad asked why I had been sitting on the toy horse that way; it clearly wasn’t safe. I knew better.

At the time, I lived and breathed a deep and unwavering love of Disney Princesses and American cartoons. Those delicate and ladies sat with the grace and dignity I thought had been afforded them by their rank. No one actually rode like that anymore, but I didn’t care.

And so, in my young wisdom, I responded with something along the lines of “Because I’m a girl,” as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Girls — especially the dainty ones on the English-speaking TV channels — rode side-saddle, and boys rode frontwards. Girls were jostled and tossed, boys were stable and comfortable. Girls fell off horses; boys did not.

My father is a wonderful person, so naturally he rolled his eyes; “Sit like a person, Mariam. You’re going to fall off and hit your head.” Of course I argued with him. I got on the toy horse and rode the way I thought girls rode. I fell off. I hit my head. When I got up, I had learned my lesson. The Disney Princesses were idiots.

After that instance, I never doubted the fact that I was just as capable, intelligent, and powerful as any boy I knew. My parents made it abundantly clear that they thought so too, each in their own ways. My mother did that thing that every mother does to her young child where, before I could articulate objection, she signed me up for every sport and activity she thought I could possibly be interested in. At the time, it kept us both busy. But retrospectively, her actions helped me understand that I could do literally anything I put my mind to. By believing that I could do the splits, recite my multiplication tables, and write the next bestseller all at once, my mother instilled in me an unshakeable belief in my abilities (those who know me know that my greatest struggle now is understanding that I do, in fact, have limitations).

And of course, both my parents taught me that the most valuable thing in the world is human decency. And a key component of human decency, alongside compassion and understanding, is an unending dedication to equality. I never felt discriminated against until I moved to the United States, where my race and gender were problematic.

Please, friends, don’t misunderstand me. When I say this is the greatest country in the world, I damn well mean it. While America is nowhere near perfect, this is a country in which we can create change, in which each person, man, woman, or child, has a voice. In which yes, there is discrimination, but there is so much promise of healing that We The People always seem to look past that and still have dreams for better days. This is a country in which hope, feathery as it is, reigns supreme. The last eight years with President Obama have been especially formative — we have elected our first black president, planted the seeds of universal healthcare, and legalized marriage equality. We have created change, and we have made caring the law of the land.

But we still have so much to do.

I don’t think that I can, in the greatest confidence, write to an audience that does not believe somewhere, deep in their hearts, that there must be equality. And I don’t think I can ask my friends and fellow writers to do so either. The Feminist Papers are not here to preach to the choir. We are not here to be loud, or angry — though in the case of equality and the lack thereof, we have every reason to be.

This publication is here because we believe that everyone on this earth has some idea, even within the smallest shred of their consciousness, of what justice is.

This publication is here because we are all given a voice, and the writers of this paper would like to use theirs.

This publication is here because there are still people who think there’s a difference between feminism and equality.

This publication is here for girls and women.

This publication is here for boys and men.

This publication is here for those who identify as both or neither and are still denied basic humanity as a result of such.

This publication is here because we have so much to do.

But most importantly, this publication is here to begin a conversation.