I unabashedly and enthusiastically describe myself as a feminist. I have seen every episode of Orange is the New Black, I have pictures of Emma Watson, Amy Poehler, and Laverne Cox on my door, I share and reblog Planned Parenthood’s posts on both Facebook and Tumblr, and I’m an avid petition signer. Miss Representation is on my Netflix list and Kathleen Hanna is my hero. I rant, I write and I read about feminism. However, as I stand in front of my vanity mirror, blinking away the sting of last night’s eyeliner even as I painstakingly apply more, I can’t help but ask myself: I’m a feminist, but am I a good feminist? Is it possible to balance one’s desire and need for social equality with one’s desire and need for Rimmel lipstick?
Feminism is about womankind’s autonomy in making decisions, but when those decisions seem to fall in line with conventional gender roles, it can sometimes be tough to draw the line between smashing the patriarchy and buying into its rhetoric. For example: as much as I want to defy gender roles and fight against the grain of society, I can’t help but salivate over 6” heels that hurt just to look at them. It definitely doesn’t help that oftentimes, online and off, other feminists have their own ideas of what feminism entails and are totally prepped to beat down your expression (think Britta in the first couple seasons of Community, before it all went south). It’s totally okay to be a “bad feminist,” and if anything it’s a title that should be embraced along with self-acceptance and self-reflection.
If you don’t want to take my word for it, then at least take Roxanne Gay’s (who, in my opinion, is an excellent voice for third wave intersectionality, if you’re into that kind of thing). In Bad Feminist, her collection of essays that touch on everything from fear of public speaking to Scrabble tournaments, she openly admits that she’s a bad feminist and that it’s not the worst thing to be. And it’s really not. Social justice is a process of learning and relearning behaviors- I remember being young and telling my older brother that he hits like a girl even as I now cringe at the thought. One doesn’t just wake up a champion for human rights, and if that were the case then there wouldn’t be a need for feminism at all. There’s nothing wrong with refusing to shave your armpits and abhorring makeup, and there’s nothing wrong with spending over an hour perfecting your eye shadow game (unless, of course, if it interferes with your schedule. All things in moderation).
To say it simply: there’s nothing wrong with being a feminist and being feminine, just like there’s nothing wrong with not being feminine but being feminist. Whichever aesthetic you choose, feminism is about having a choice and not about whether or not you’re following a single style or expression. In the wise words of Janet Mock, a transgender activist/queen: “[W]e all come from various walks of life and that doesn’t make any of us less valid.” Expression is a very individual thing, and with the wage gap to worry about the last thing feminists need is to stress about whether or not their skirt is secretly advancing a sexist agenda. I can say with no uncertainty, I’m a bad feminist.Â
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