I am NOT a Feminist

I am not a feminist.
Don’t get me wrong…
I don’t walk ass out
hanging tits on the town
wondering why men don’t respect me
or my Britney Spears “oh baby, baby” body.
And I’m not about to lie down pregnant
stand up clean
move in cook
dash out laundry
rinse and repeat after rubbing his hard working feet
but there’s something about taking the man out of woman
and replacing it with a big, fat Y
that makes me wonder who the battle for equality
is really being fought against—
chauvinistic men with old fashioned ideas
or linguistic anthropologists?

I am not a feminist
because today feminism isn’t about believing women are equal to men–
it’s about believing that women are better than men
and fighting for the right to vote or equal pay
has all been replaced
with male bashing and penis mocking
and, to be frank, I like penises too much
to claim that anyone who has one is one
because I know too many guys who love a confident, strong woman
too many men willing
to clean the dishes after she cooks
and do the laundry if she vacuums.

I am NOT a feminist
but I AM a confident woman—with an A—
the new scarlet letter
women brand on other women
to stand for anti-feminism,
antiquated, antithesis, abandon
and lest we forget abject
because the worst offenders of objectifying
women are other women.
because not all not all blondes invest solely in Estee Lauder
not all brunettes are bookworms
not all lesbians wear comfortable shoes
and none of us are dictionary definitions of a single word.

I am not a feminist because
my work is worth the same as a man’s
but I don’t need to bully-smack him into place to prove it.
Looking pretty and dressing up for a date doesn’t set the women’s movement
back 50 years of hard bra burning, ball kicking, bread-winning work.
Just because I love my breasts, my ass, my ability to make men’s heads turn
doesn’t mean I don’t also love my brain, my work, my ability to make people think
and what makes me so fucking awesome
is that I’m not Paris Hilton OR Gloria Steinem
and I can be beautifully smart and intelligently gorgeous.
I can take a guy out on a date and still expect flowers on my birthday.
I can change my oil and own more shoes than Macy’s.
I can make bread and be the breadwinner
and I don’t need to be better than a man to feel any of it is worth it
because there’s a difference between women’s rights and women’s appropriation
and before I can begin to define myself as a woman,
I’m a human,
something bigger than men
bigger than women, than womyn, than feminists, than misogynists.
I’m not a feminist because I don’t believe in it anymore—

but I’m an avid humanist.


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