I grew up in the 90’s and my vagina really didn’t prohibit me from doing much besides peeing standing up. I had (and still have) two brothers and a sister, and whoever wanted to play sports, played sports and whoever wanted to play dolls, played dolls. It seemed super normal – and for good reason. But now, as a 31 year old married woman with a career… for the first time in my life I’m feeling like my having a vagina is preventing me from being able to really do what I want to do without judgement.
Here’s my dirty little secret which would be sooooooo sexy if I were a man: I love to cook and keep house. But because I’m not a man, I sometimes feel like I’m some how abandoning my feminist sisters and brothers when I get my domestic on.
Now, let’s just clear one thing up off the jump – I absolutely identify as feminist. I will march with ya, fight with ya, demand change with ya… but I’m also gunna swing by the grocery on my way home to fix dinner.
¿Why can’t we have both? To me, being a feminist is being true to yourself, and to the idea of equality and progress for women. If I made my husband do the shopping and cooking on principle a few things would happen. 1) I’d be denying myself something that I truly love doing for a shitty reason and 2) I’d probably suffer a diabetic shock from too many “ice cream for dinner” nights.
We need more camaraderie and less judgement. I went out for drinks with colleagues after work recently and when I mentioned I was going to make dinner when I got home, you’d have thought I said I wasn’t excited for the next season of GIRLS.
I can still be a feminist and want to fold my husband’s underwear. I promise.
So, let’s make a deal. Imma do me, You do you. I will love, appreciate and celebrate you for anything you do as a feminist, because that is precisely what a feminist does. And in turn, you do the same. Pinky promise. Thumb kiss.