Feminist-A Dirty Word

I’m a feminist.

I’ve always been a feminist.

I was raised by a feminist.

I’ve always denied I was a feminist.

These may seem like contradictory statements, yet they are not.

You see, I was also raised in the South by a very traditional southern father. I was raised and observed from a young age the traditional southern expectations of men and women within the home and society. A man should work. A woman should stay home. If a woman does work, she should not make more than her husband to preserve the natural balance within the home, within society. A woman should be married by 25. A man should focus on establishing himself in the workforce to support a growing family. By 30, a woman should be so involved filling all the seats at her table that she doesn’t have time to work outside the home. A man, by 30, should be settled down with someone younger to start filling his role in society of being the breadwinner of the family.

This was the world my father was raised in.

This was the world my father intended to raise his family in.

My father married a feminist.

In his defense, he did not know he was marrying a feminist. I’m not positive my mother knew she was a feminist. My mother was a sneaky feminist. She never publicly displayed her beliefs for women’s rights, at least to my knowledge. Never stood on a picket line. Never marched on the capital. Yet, she believed in the equality of men and women in the workforce. Throughout her early career in the 70’s and 80’s, she fought to be treated equally in the male-dominated world of science and academia.

My mother began to rock the boat, starting with her very first job out of college. She moved to Florida and worked as an intern with fellow men and women marine biologists. Her first “big girl” job. While the job tried to be progressive by paying the men and women equally within the lab, the men weren’t doing any of the work. After several complaints making the boss well aware of the imbalance going on within the lab, my mother left. She moved home. Slightly with her tail between her legs, but mostly hardened a little more by the reality of inequality in the workforce.

Some years later, after a career change and a master’s degree under her belt, she decided to use her current study to pursue a Ph.D. while having and raising 3 children. During this time, my mother did not ask for or receive special treatment. Her workload at the office and at the home was not lessened. She simply took on the extra task of earning a degree while maintaining all other expectations. To say my mother is a driven woman is an understatement. To say my father was proud of his ambitious wife would be a major misconception. Before returning for her degree, the two incomes within the family were already too similar for my father’s comfort. After she received her degree, there was not a question if my mother’s income would surpass my father's but a matter of when. This did not sit well with my traditional 1950’s father. Yet, my mother proceeded anyways. She did not let the ego of a man hinder her personal dreams.

My favorite triumphant story told by my mother happened after she had worked for some time, and they brought in a new male hire. My mother and the new hire had the same education level, the same level of experience. The difference was she had already dedicated 7 years to the company, and he was hired in at 10k more than my mother was currently making. My mother kindly took this objection to her boss. Who could not deny the evidence and proceeded to give my mother a raise. Resulting in my mother’s income surpassing my father’s income. Two rebellions for the price of one.

My mother was never a loud feminist. She was soft. She was quiet. After all, she was raised in a time when children were seen and not heard, and the lesson went double for the daughters. Dirty laundry was never aired in public, and no one needed to know your business, so mind your own. Yet, whether she meant to or not, she was a feminist. She is a role model for young women today studying Epidemiology. She was my role model in obtaining an M.S. in marine science and my biggest supporter in leaving my career behind. My mother may not understand what all women go through, yet she supports what all women go through.

She is the feminist not spoken about.

The feminist I knew, I was taught about, was loud, was hateful, was argumentative.

To be a feminist in the South meant you were directly attacking the long-held ideals of the traditional southern family. I was raised to believe if you were a feminist, you did not support stay-at-home moms. You believed all men were inherently evil for the years of suppression they imposed upon womankind, and thus men must be taken down and pay for all their past transgressions. In the South, the feminists I knew were the bra-burning, men-hating women who wanted to completely turn society upside down. You are either for the traditional southern ideal, or you are against it. There is no in-between. Anything not completely for the way things were, is against and, therefore, a direct threat.

I believed in this representation of feminism for the majority of my life. And since I did not hate men, since I didn’t have an issue with wearing a bra, and I supported stay-at-home mothers. I was not a feminist. This is the trick. This is the trick those opposed to change will play. They will portray the argument as if there is no middle ground. They will depict life in black and white. They will make you believe the unknown is too risky, too scary for you to even ask questions that may change your current frame of mind.

And unless you are shown the grey in this world, in an argument, in feminism, you will believe them. Because it is, after all, everything, you have ever known. Please believe me; life is made up of a great deal of grey.

I’m a feminist because I can see the grey. I’m a feminist because I believe a woman can be an astrophysicist with a two-year-old at home. I’m a feminist because I believe being a stay-at-home mom is one of the hardest callings a woman can have in her life. I’m a feminist because I believe a woman can be a stay-at-home mom, a blogger, a philanthropist while going back to school. I’m a feminist because I believe motherhood does not define a woman. I believe a woman gets to be all the and-s, or-s, or but-s she wants to be without having to define herself to anyone but herself. I believe this because this is the belief that allows me to accept myself for the path I have chosen to live while knowing, accepting, and loving all the unique paths my fellow females are venturing upon.

I’m a feminist because I am accepting by nature.

I’m a feminist because it leaves more room for growth.

I’m a feminist because it leaves more room for the many beautiful shades of grey