Wymyn and me


Whist I have an abhorrence for terms like 'wymyn' (puleese!), I have been grappling all month with the fact that I let International Women's Day slide by without a celebratory post. Back in the day, I was all about the girl power. I used to wear badges that said things like 'Billions of men, why animal test?' and 'When will someone have the balls to castrate rapists?' I went to rallies and, hell, I even did a year of Wymyn's Studies (including 'herstory') at Sydney Uni. Oh yes, I was well up on the feminist literature. I bored myself stupid.

And then, ('scuse the pun) it all just petered out.

I think it all started with the Reclaim the Night march. I didn't get why men couldn't march with us. There was a massive debate about should-they-or-shouldn't-they in 1993 and the answer came back 'they shouldn't'. Well, I didn't agree with that at all and neither did many of my friends. One of them dressed in drag and came along anyway... the reaction of our fellow marchers was anything but pretty (hey, the only way to carry a heavy load is to lighten up, ladies!). And it suddenly occurred to me that I didn't agree with the exclusiveness of feminism. I didn't think we would ever get where we needed to be without the support of the, er, myn.

I get that we had to start without them. I mean, frankly, back in Mary Wollstonecraft's day, the men were more likely to march over you than march with you. But that's kind of the point. These days (or at least back in the dark ages of 1993) men want to show support, they want to be part of the movement that says 'equal rights for all' and 'when will someone have the balls to castrate rapists?'

Then there was the whole 'gender neutral' thing. I never got that either. I think herstory has shown us that most other women didn't really get it either. Sure, a woman can do all the stuff that men can do with a little bit of help from technology (bin man, anyone?), but did she want to? Hmmm... maybe not. But at least she has the choice these days, right? At least she got to decide what her life could be like and set about making it happen. It wasn't just a given that she didn't want to be the guy lifting 185 heavy bins before sunrise. And frankly, if the bin man turned around and decided he wanted a career change and decided to stay at home and raise his six kids under five, then that was okay too (and, dear god, good luck to you, Bin Man).

But remember this, without feminism, I wouldn't even be writing this post. I wouldn't have a voice. I wouldn't have a choice. I would probably have twenty babies and pointy boobs. 


So I embrace the suffragettes and I embrace those silly raunch-culture girls and I embrace the women who wrote all those seriously mad articles I ploughed through in Women's Stuides and I embrace the women who call all men rapists (actually, no I don't embrace them at all, but still). I am still very proud to call myself a feminist.

I thank the pioneering wymyn who made it all happen for me. Who were marched over time and time again but continued to rise up and demand the right to choose. Who said 'I will not be silenced, I will not be bullied', who cried 'I matter and I'm here'. I'm sorry something went a bit wrong and your cause became deeply unfashionable. Maybe when women stop cleaning the glass ceiling, we'll realise that feminism hasn't run it's course. That there is still some heavy lifting to do.

What does feminism mean to you?
 [Image by Clouded Sunny]