I haven't posted in some time.
There have been plenty of stories I could write about; adultery and infidelity, misogyny in sports, the breast cancer debacle, Greg Oden. For some reason, I can't find the words to directly convey how these things have made me feel. Of late, I have been especially sensitive to stories about rape, domestic violence and adultery. I have no idea why. I have used this blog as an outlet of sorts, to share information and to vent frustration and anxiety. But mostly as a means to share information and to further the goals of feminism.
So I ask again: What is feminism? Why am I a feminist?
I hardly know anymore. I used to think feminism is about equal rights; about learning and language, combating misogyny in the media, debunking gender stereotypes, equal pay for equal work; campaigning, protesting, organizing for the right to chose when, where, if and how to have children. All of this seems so trivial. The deliberate misuse by the media of simple terms such as gender, sex and sexism; powerful men with a national voice hold hostage the very rights women such as myself have been fighting for. Misleading information about socially acceptable issues such as breast cancer. The massive scale back of women's choice in federal legislation under a president and congress that promised they would work for gender equality.
Huge setbacks- sorrowful regression. It is as if all the work feminists, gender rights activists, our mother's, grandmother’s and great grandmother's have done, has all been for naught.