Olga Wolstenholme's picture

Am I Bad Feminist?

I have a confession to make. I know jack squat about feminist theory.  No, really, it’s true. I’m busted!  You found me out!  I’ve never read The Feminine Mystique (I can’t even tell you who wrote it with utmost certainty), I’ve never read The Second Sex (the only reason I know who wrote that is because I love me a French existentialist), and I have no idea what the difference is between first wave, second wave, or third wave feminism.  Seriously, I have no idea.  Although, I’m confident enough that I could probably fake my way through a pretty decent guess.  At least with someone who didn’t know any better.  And even then most of what I’ve picked up is from movies, TV, and every other form of media, but then only by chance.

I can pretty much count on my fingers the number of books I’ve read that weren’t novels and that were somewhat related to feminist theory.  I remember when I was about 18 I bought two books from the woman’s studies section at the new Indigo bookstore in downtown Montreal the titles of which were Bitch and Slut.  The only reason I picked up these particular books is because of their succinct and titillating titles.  I only got around to reading them about four years later and anyone with a mind can figure out the premises: i.e. women who hold power are bitches and women who have sex are sluts.

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