I Used to Call Myself ‘Softly Feminist’ — But Now?
Now I’m just a feminist
I used to call myself Softly Feminist, meaning that I wanted to convey a gentle approach to the theme of feminism.
Like all of us, I have a father. Some of my best friends have been male. Some of my lovers have been really great guys. Some of my most inspiring teachers and role models have been male.
However, I’ve recently dropped the word Softly before the title Feminist.
Why is that you ask? Well, I’ve realised something –
– What use is a softly anything?
And what exactly did I really mean by ‘Softly Feminist’ anyway?
If I’m brutally honest with myself, I think I was afraid of being too polarising. I also think I was trying to sound less militant, and really, I have no clue why, because I really admire and respect the reason feminism exists in the first place.
The Suffragettes were pretty badass and militant. They had to be to enforce such an unprecedented change in society. If they went about it softly, women would still be unable to vote, work, study, read, and have an opinion. We’d still be fawning and fainting in our corsets every five minutes.
Believe it or not, the word ‘feminism’ has just given me a reason to be even more secure in my decision to use the title more assuredly.
Let me try to explain.
I used to believe in the societally vanilla view of marriage, children, a mortgage, and the highly coveted ‘happily ever after.’
I was born in an era that expected me to be a dutiful wife before the arrival of children. I didn’t even consider that it wouldn’t happen.
However, I believe that one of the reasons my father pretty much disowned me is because I’ve let him down by not becoming a wife to someone. And I have the evidence. On meeting one of my partners for the first time, he said (with full humourless sincerity), “When are you going to make her an honourable woman?”
Picking that apart, it’s clear he found my unmarried, albeit in a long-term relationship status, highly dishonourable in some way. Needless to say, I stood there aghast as my own father tore into my sense of sexual morality.
But times, they are a changin’ (yes, I sung that line as a lyric).
Apron-wearing and cookie-baking marriage is so far from being the expectation these days. We’ve given it a new name now. It’s called the ‘Tradwife’ lifestyle.
As an unmarried middle-aged woman, who has given years of my life to men; loving them, cooking for them, cleaning for them, wanting to raise babies with them, and generally living life as a ‘wife’, I’ve always been completely puzzled that no-one’s ever (seriously) asked me to marry them.
The closest I got was a former partner who used to make rings out of sweet wrappers when he was drunk and fake-propose to me. The real ring never came.
He ended up going and sowing his wild oats elsewhere.
If only I’d tried harder – made the house nicer – looked prettier – cooked better dinners – wore sexier underwear – was just better at wife-ing. But, with hindsight, I don’t think I could have done any more.
Heck, maybe I wifed too hard.
Maybe the ring was superfluous because I was already doing the wife stuff too well already.
But despite all of that, I’d previously concluded that I was a defect.
Yes, it’s the 2020s, and there’s still a stigma to be an unmarried older woman. There’s something pitiable attached to being a Miss, and nobody’s Mrs. It’s always seen as the woman’s fault – that there must be something wrong with us – and never that we just attracted commitment-phobic guys who happened to be more interested in keeping their options open and their trouser zips undone.
It has been a sore subject for me for a long time, but something shifted in me recently.
I’d finally healed from an emotionally abusive relationship in my thirties and found someone much less red-flaggy in my early forties. Consequently, I’ve been with my current partner for over five years.
Within the first year of our relationship, he admitted that he wanted to marry me at some stage in the future. As a believer in love, romance, and the happily-ever-after, I was delighted. And so, I’m not embarrassed to admit I’d been waiting – ever hopeful.
After a particularly raw and vulnerable chat with him a few months ago, I finally asked him how he felt about marriage now, several years down the line. He replied that because I have said that I’m a feminist, he doesn’t see marriage as an option anymore. Plus, he said, he’d given me a child, so that was enough of a commitment.
Punched in the stomach? More like trampled underfoot by a herd of rampaging buffalo.
And just like that, over forty years of imagining myself as a bride came crashing down.
I don’t want it anymore.
I’m done.
You see, the word feminism to him implicates that I’m too much of a challenge against the status quo, maybe that I’m against men, that I’m somehow less malleable to becoming the kind of woman that will do what’s expected by a husband, and that I’m basically no longer marriage material.
Through gritted teeth that were desperately trying not to allow the disappointment and hurt to spill out, I attempted to explain what feminism means to me.
I hoped he would understand what I was about to say because he now has two daughters – one with me and one with his ex-wife.
I hoped he might understand that I want a better future for them than the one that I and especially my female ancestors have lived.
Feminism is the hope that we will one day be completely equal with men. No better, no worse.
Feminism is the hope that we will be employed, not because we were showing just the right amount of skin at the interview, or because we might be eye candy around the office, but because our training, skill set, and experience match the job description.
Feminism is the hope that we will be paid as much as our male peers for doing the same roles as them within the workplace.
Feminism is the hope that we might get the promotion at work, instead of being shelved in lieu of impending child-rearing years.
Feminism is the hope that we can express all of our emotions without being called a bitch, crazy, hormonal, neurotic, or hysterical.
Feminism is the hope that we won’t be expected to do more than fifty percent of the household chores.
Feminism is the hope that we won’t be expected to ‘honour and obey’ a husband by doing things we do not wish to do.
Feminism is the hope that we will have the ultimate autonomy and choice over our bodies and our fertility.
Feminism is the hope that we can live without fear of being physically brutalised by the ‘stronger sex.’
Feminism is the hope that we will still be able to use terms like ‘breastfeeding’, ‘vagina’, and ‘womb’ without them being rendered obsolete. No disrespect to the non-binary brothers and sisters inferred.
Feminism is the hope that we will be believed my medical professionals when we attempt to self-advocate for our pain and ill-health.
Feminism is the hope that all the progress women have made over the last one hundred or so years won’t be crushed and reversed into some frightening real-life dystopia (aka ‘The Handmaid's Tale’).
Feminism is the hope that we will be seen as more than a living puppet for men’s pleasure.
So I won’t go softly about my feminism anymore. I’ve wasted too much time already. Mind you, I’m not militant either, because a call to arms creates a like and equal energy, which risks creating a gender war.
War is a construct of the patriarchy which I particularly dislike.
I’m merely saying that I see through it all now. It’s like the veil dropped from in front of my eyes.
I’m not taking anything away from women who have great husbands and marriages. Congratulations to them.
However, I see that the entire system is set up to keep women in their place, and to keep our power at bay. I’ll no longer wait for the ring to arrive because I see that it’s a symbol of the indoctrination into a system that doesn’t serve women in many ways.
I’ll no longer hope to be made more honourable or whole by a wedding proposal from a man.
I am a proud feminist who likes the company of men, and will continue to live life with my male partner, work to provide a balanced income for the household, and do many of the gender-typical feminine roles.
I am the kind of feminist who will unapologetically and steadfastly stand firm for the rights of women.
We have come too far to let it all go now.
Plus we owe it to the next generation to keep up the vigilance.
There appears to be a growing divide between the genders. There is a legacy of trauma that needs healing. We must continue to have difficult conversations and keep the discussions going.
I see a lot of men standing up in support of women. They are feminists too.
I watched in tears of happiness as I witnessed strong men making videos in solidarity with women during the ‘Man Vs Bear’ debate. Some were even brave enough to admit that they were ignorant and held different beliefs before diving down the rabbit hole, and that by listening to the real and raw experiences shared by millions of women about their experiences with living in a ‘man’s world’, they’ve changed the internal narrative.
This is huge ladies.
So before anyone calls me a man-hater, I do not hate anyone or anything. There are things that people of any gender can do that I strongly dislike. I detest any behaviour that seeks to harm, undermine, control, coerce, devalue, and subterfuge others, regardless of the gender of the perpetrator.
I will always choose peace, equality, and love. I will always seek a harmonious resolution that promotes fairness and balance.
But softly doesn’t achieve anything except denial of one’s sense of personal power.
And we women are powerful.
We’re powerful in our ability to love, in our ability to create life, in our ability to provide solace, compassion, empathy, and so much more.
We must put our hearts firmly on our sleeves and go strongly and confidently about our feminism.
All rights reserved © 2024. True Love Tanya
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