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I grew up surrounded by strong, intelligent women. And by men who loved and respected them. It’s hard to come out of that kind of upbringing without a profound sense that women are capable, worthy, autonomous human beings.

I remember a very telling exchange I had with my mother many years ago. I was quite young, probably in elementary school. I don’t remember much of the conversation, or how we got on the topic, but I do remember saying that I wouldn’t really have to worry about finding a good job when I grew up because I could rely on a man to find one, and to presumably support me and our family.

At which point my mother gently said something to the effect of, “Why couldn’t you have your own job and support yourself?”

I obviously don’t remember her exact words, but I never lost the lesson: I am smart. I am capable. I can support myself just as well as any man could support me. And I think it’s a testament to how well I learned that lesson that I absolutely balk at the thing I said all those years ago.

But it isn’t the strong women in my family who brought me personal meaning to the word feminism. It is those women who aren’t so blessed. Those women who aren’t taught from a very young age that gender is no determination of personal worth. Feminism became a real concept to me when I realized that not everyone comes from a family like mine. That there are women who are condescended to, humiliated, discriminated against, ill-treated, abused, raped and killed. That there are human beings on this planet who are made to suffer because of a few basic biological facts of their own bodies. Facts over which they have no control. Facts they did not choose.

And everything I now believe about feminism, every angry rant I’ve made about restrictive abortion laws, or pharmacists who’ve decided very recently to have consciences, or those who insist on pigeon-holing an entire gender to one acceptable role in life, has stemmed from the realization that what seemed so natural, so logical, and so beneficial in my own upbringing has been totally absent from the lives of so many. I was lucky to be born into my family, and others aren’t so fortunate. Should the course of a woman’s life, her potential, her possibilities be determined so certainly by an accident of her birth?

Clearly not. And it’s that belief that is central to my own conception of feminism. Because I was a beneficiary of feminism for so long without even knowing it, and because every woman should have that chance. Every woman deserves to see that she is capable. Every woman deserves to see that she is worthy.

Becky O.
Champaign, Illinois

This entry was posted on Thursday, March 8th, 2007 at 4:18 pm by Guest and is filed under Feminism, Guest Bloggers. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.