Why I am a Feminist

Editor’s Note: As I have been revamping my blog, I have invited a good friend of mine to join me. You’ve seen me refer to her in previous posts under a different moniker. But before she was the FutureProfessor, she was the IntellectualFeminist. There will be an about tab soon just for her! And now…her first post…

I am ashamed to say that I have spent most of my life trying not to ruffle feathers. And so, for every person who has ever asked me why I am a feminist I have given a less than honest answer, crippled by unexplainable fear of confrontation.

As complicated as my journey to self acceptance has been, my reason for being a feminist is actually quite simple.

Truthfully, feminism is the armor I wear to face a society that feeds on my hatred of self and of my body. I wear this armor in preparation for a battle that I have yet to undertake, until now.

Why am I a feminist?

Because I have something to say and I am no longer afraid to say it. I am ready to engage in the war of words and ideas that is the way that women look at themselves and their bodies. That journey starts with me, but it doesn’t end there. Madeleine Albright says it best:

There is a special place in hell for women who don’t help other women

I realize that this fight is one that I cannot fight alone. And that is what brings me here. To fearlessly begin that trek to the battlefield and invite those who read this to take up arms.

 

 

I Saw Myself Today.

In the mirror, after my shower, I saw myself.

No different than any other day…except…

I saw beauty. Not ugly.

My skin, the color of caramel sauce, draped over a shoulder that’s uplifted many a friends head

And provides a cuddle-spot for my nephew when he hugs me

Is covered in stretchmarks, and scars from falls

But I wasn’t disgusted, for once.

My belly, with all its rolls and lines

Looks soft and warm…not deformed or horrid, as I once believed

Many a lover’s hand has spanned and rubbed this belly

Lips have kissed the heart-shaped scar on the left

While stroking the tender skin on the right.

My legs…shapely, strong. Limber. Powerful.

The rump that when carried on my fabulous legs

Is a work of art. Awe-inspiring in it’s roundness

Sexy in its sway

And devestating in a pair of jeans and high, high heels.

I saw myself today.

And this time, I smiled.

This was written while I was on my break at work today. Cappuchino does wonders for the creative juices, y’all!