7 things that DO NOT make you a bad feminist

Between 2015 and 2017, I was a graduate student in the Women, Gender, and Sexuality Studies master’s degree program at Oregon State University. This was one of the most important experiences of my life, primarily because it gave me the strong foundation in the feminist knowledge that I knew I would need if I wanted to become a successful feminist blogger. Yet I also derived essential benefits from the experience insofar as it revealed to me how exclusive modern feminism can be. But as the great bell hooks reminds us, Feminism Is for Everybody.

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1. Being heterosexual

At some point in this long battle for gender equality, we got confused and assumed that meant that female-identified people who love and/or want to bang people of the male persuasion must exist in opposition to the cause of feminism. If the logic here is that it is because men are part of the problem, well, that’s as sexist as the problem itself. 

2. Being privileged

As an upper-middle-class (as long as I live with my parents, anyway) Caucasian, I’m privileged. I know that. What I don’t know, however, is why this has led people in the past to assume I’m “part of the problem.” Those who are not of color and are of wealth have perpetrated some abominable atrocities. But that doesn’t mean all people sharing one or both of these traits must automatically be taken as the enemy. A lot of us have our hearts in the right place and are eager to learn from people who are differently oppressed and work together with them to make things better. The need for sexual equality knows no income or skin color.

3. Being monogamous

Sexual liberation has been a critical element in feminism since the dawn of the second wave. But somewhere along the way, being sexually liberated became a requirement to join the feminist cause, and moreover, the definition of sexual liberation seemed to shift to exclude long-term, single-partner relationships, especially relationships with men (see above). But I call bullshit. True sexual liberation means feeling free to engage in whatever type of sexual activity you want (as long as it’s consensual) without worrying about how others will perceive it. It doesn’t matter if it takes place in the context of a committed relationship. 

4. Being cisgender

Shaving your legs, wearing makeup, or being in any way “feminine” whatsoever is NOT mutually exclusive with being a card-carrying feminist. True feminists realize gender roles are human-made, and so resisting freaking out over whether you’re conforming to said gender roles, by realizing certain traits are merely artificially coded “feminine” or “masculine,” is as feminist an act as I can imagine. As Martha Rampton of Pacific University’s Center for Gender Equity notes,

An aspect of third wave feminism that mystified the mothers of the earlier feminist movement was the readoption by young feminists of the very lip-stick, high-heels, and cleavage proudly exposed by low cut necklines that the first two phases of the movement identified with male oppression.

5. Wanting to get married

I’ve just about had it with the argument that a quote-unquote real feminist activist can’t dream of someday saying “I do.” Whatever your gender identity or the gender identity of your chosen spouse, the institution of marriage has the potential to be extremely feminist. After all, marriage, at its best, is about two people coming together as equals and promising to honor and love each other; and equality is feminism manifest. 

6. Wanting to have kids

It’s okay to want to tie the knot. The same goes for the desire to procreate. Motherhood isn’t inherently feminist, despite what some proponents of breastfeeding might have you believe; but it isn’t actively un-feminist, either: Most of the professors I studied under at OSU are parents, and let me tell you, they’re all veritable paragons of feminism. So, yes, I want to be a mom. I also want to shatter the patriarchy. Luckily for me, a feminist can do both.

7. Wanting to beat men at their own game

Second-wave feminists “rejected the ideal of inclusion because … they would only be vying for inclusion in a world built on men’s values.” This MO has continued to dominate mainstream feminism ever since. But while I am loath to tell anyone to “lean in,” let me just say there is nothing at all wrong with wanting to work in the same institutions as men, e.g., a traditional workplace, and surpass them in excellence. It’s totally OK to wish and demand that there be space for us women in the world we live in now.

Otherwise, in my humble opinion, we’re just letting those who benefit from the patriarchy off the hook.

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ADHD is a Battlefield; Meli is an Ally.

If you’ve ever heard of ADHD (or, more likely, ADD), you’ve probably also heard that people usually get over the disorder when they grow up. But I’m going to let you in a little (horrifying) secret: Many people don’t get over ADHD, but get more ADHD when they enter adulthood. And there is a name for these people: women.

Members of the ADHD medical community have observed for decades that women seem to experience an amelioration of ADHD symptomology during pregnancy. (This is great, because physicians will tell you that you should only continue taking ADHD stimulant medication while pregnant if you feel that the benefit to you, the mother, outweighs the risk of harming your baby in utero; basically, the implication is that you’d have to be a sociopath to continue your treatment regimen if you have a bun in the oven.) However, it has also been observed that women seem to experience an exacerbation of their symptoms during menopause, and as young adults every few weeks or so.

As it turns out, studies in recent years have shown, an average woman’s mental acuity is proportional to her estrogen levels. An ADHD woman, of course, struggles with inattentiveness and lack of focus just as a baseline. Thus, she may be able to get by and even thrive during the first half of her menstrual cycle each month, thanks to medication and/or therapy of some kind. But when she hits her PMS week, her hormone levels deplete, and stay low until the end of her period, leaving her feeling out of it for virtually half of every month.

I mentioned in my last post that I’ve been empowered by acknowledging how real — and how limiting — my ADHD has always been. It became particularly acute starting around age 18, and now we know why: In a word, hormones. If I weren’t aware, or didn’t believe, that my disability has a biological foundation, I would inevitably suffer even more, because I would be left believing that the cause of my troubles were some flaw in my character, my quality as a person. I can’t adequately express how significantly my mental health has improved since I’ve learned to acknowledge my own limitations (and their neurological basis) and forgive myself for not always being able to exceed everyone’s expectations.

But that’s only half the battle. To win that battle, you need allies. I have at least 20. Let me tell you about one of them.

Me and Meli, May 8, 2015

Me and Meli, May 8, 2015

This is Meli. She and I were roommates at the University of Oregon’s Living-Learning Center residence hall during my freshman year of college. We definitely did not have a perfect roomie-roomie relationship back in 2009, but with every passing year she and I have grown closer and closer, so much so that today each of us considers the other one of her best friends. There is a lot to love about Meli: She is adorably small in stature and unabashedly nerdy; I can’t do justice to her particular syntax, but trust me, it’s completely unique and utterly hilarious. Above all, though, I love Meli because she loves — and supports — me, ADHD and all.

About two months ago, on the second Friday in May, Meli accompanied me on a trip to Newport (one of Oregon’s coastal towns) for the wedding of my friend Dana to her longtime boyfriend, Nick (Dana and Meli get along really well, which isn’t surprising, because they are both awesome), in which I was to be a bridesmaid. The members of the wedding party had all chipped in to rent a beach house for two nights. Around 10:30 p.m., after everyone had returned from the rehearsal dinner and a complimentary boat ride around Newport Bay, Dana knocked on the door of the bedroom Meli and I were sharing to inform me that in about 10 minutes we were all to congregate to go over the logistics of the wedding day. “Is that okay?” she asked. “Yes,” I deadpanned. “As long as you understand that I am heavily unmedicated and will not retain any of what you say.” Dana, of course, gracefully accepted this, she being an ADHD ally herself, though we were left wondering what to do in light of the current situation. But then, Meli chimed in and gamely offered to attend the confab as my proxy and take notes on the scheduling and my responsibilities for me to read the next day when I was medicated once again.

Now, granted, I was pretty emotional already, seeing as how I was about 15 hours away from witnessing the nuptials of two incredible people, but I almost burst into tears because of what had just happened: Rather than chiding me for being lazy, or even encouraging me to have some faith in myself, Meli simply accepted that I couldn’t handle the task at hand, and offered to do it in my stead. Why? Because she could. It was a far cry from my senior year of high school, when a girl who at the time I counted as one of my closest friends told me that I had done a good job “not saying anything stupid yesterday.”

A true ADHD ally embraces an ADHD woman for all that she endures, and for all that she is unable to endure. My friends support me when I push myself, and support me when I don’t. Meli is the epitome of an ADHD ally. I’m hanging out with her tonight, in fact.

I can’t wait.