The War On Feminism

I SEE YOU READING THE HEADING AND MOVING YOUR MOUSE TO CLOSE THE TAB AND LEAVE THIS BLOG. DON’T THINK I DON’T SEE YOU. PLEASE COME BACK HERE AND LISTEN TO WHAT I HAVE TO SAY BEFORE YOU GO ON A RANT ABOUT HOW FEMINISM IS SO OVERDONE AND YOU’RE SO OVER IT.

Thank you.

I see your discomfort at having to read yet another blog about the importance of feminism in today’s society. Calm yourself. Just take a deep breath, and throw out any expectations of what you think you’re going to read on here. Throw out all your angst. Just let it go for, like, ten minutes. Then I promise you’ll be able to re-palm your pitchforks and torches and continue to chase me out of the city.

I’m not writing this blog because I need to rant about men. I’m not writing this blog because I need to rant about women. And I am most certainly, most assuredly NOT writing this blog simply because I am a privileged white young woman, who has grown up in a home without any form of abuse. It is because I am privileged that I am able to write this blog, and I fully acknowledge that. I also fully acknowledge that it is because of my high standard of education that I am able to have an opinion on feminism, and furthermore be able to write about it in a public space.

It will be impossible for me to portray a perspective on this topic with which I am not familiar, which is why I am making it clear now, before I start, that this is purely my own opinion, as influenced as it is by my background, my class, my education, and even my race.

All this aside, I feel the need to share why I believe it is not only necessary, but crucial, that women in positions of power embrace feminism. And by “women in positions of power”, I mean all women who, like me, have had the benefit of a good education on their side, and possess enough intellect, independence and integrity to fight for the rights of those women who do not possess these things as a result of their sex.

I’ve noticed that a lot of teenage girls reject the word “feminism” with a standard reaction that involves rolling their eyes, tilting back their heads and breathing a long, loud, exasperated sigh. Honestly, if I took offence at every time a teenage girl did this around me, I’d have a psychologist’s bill that I could roll from here to Congo… right onto the doorstep of a woman who’d been raped, beaten and verbally abused from the age of five for no other reason than because she is a woman.

Look, girls, I know that you get a lot of lectures on what it means to be feminist, and how important it is to be a feminist and fight for equal pay in the work place etc. etc. and so on and so forth to infinity and beyond, but I still don’t think you really know what a feminist is, or why it’s so important. So let’s try sort that issue out first.

FEMINISM (noun): the doctrine advocating social, political, and all other rights of women equal to those of men.

HANG ON. PAUSE. Take note of that word I so kindly put in bold print for you. “EQUAL”. So, like, exactly the same. That’s it. Feminists fight for equality.

If your idea of feminism looks like this:

then you are wrong. This is misandry – totally different discussion for a totally different day.

And if your idea of feminism looks like this:

then you need to re-examine the definition up there. Because feminists fight for equal rights. At the moment, feminism is so not even nearly focused on addressing the issues of sexes holding open doors for each other. Honestly? Do you really believe arguing with a male because they did/didn't hold open a door for you is the biggest problem we're facing right now? And this brings me onto my next point…

Feminism is not about you.

(Bolded, italicized and underlined for your convenience. Interpret that as you will.)

That’s right. Chances are, if you are reading this blog right now, you are educated enough to be able to read and understand what I am writing. Chances are, this blog hasn’t been censored in your country because it evokes ideas that are considered “dangerous”. Chances are, you’re actually able to read this blog because you both have time to waste on the internet, and a device on which to read it. That means, at this present moment in time, feminism does not apply to you.

Well, feminism shouldn’t aim to empower you alone. YET. Let’s go back to the definition once more: feminism has the aim of giving women equal social, political and all other rights to those of men. So, surely, when you’re looking at fixing a damaged social situation in which one sex is placed below the other, you start with the most pressing problems.

Let’s think about it logically: What enables you to become an activist for women’s rights? Education. What enables you to fight for a job amongst male candidates? Education. What enables you to gain enough independence to see the difference in the way in which men and women are treated? Education. And, most importantly, what will give you the opportunity to seize a chance at independence, to create your own identity as a woman, and to fight against misogynists for your rights in the workplace, in your home and in society? EDUCATION.

(And then building onto this would be to combat the issues that interfere with a woman's education, including health, governmental restrictions, poverty… but we won't go into that because I will go on forever.)

So, realistically, (going right back to the beginning here) as a woman (or man! You guys are invited, too) who has the benefits of a good education on your side, you should be embracing feminism so that you can aid other, less privileged women in their quest for equality. (Here are some statistics to motivate you. And even more.) This all comes down to empathy and action. We need to empathize with women who are in much more drastic situations than we are, and then we need to do something about it. (This is what we can do. Or be creative and launch your own activist campaign.) Only then, once we have educated and empowered as many women as possible, can we focus on the other - undeniably important - issues such as equal pay in the workplace (and there are so, so, so many more). Even “free the nipple” or whatever those radicals are going on about.

You’ve got to build your army before charging into a war, don’t you?

(And while we're empowering other women, we can work on destroying the gender stereotype by changing the way we act. The way that we portray feminism is ultimately either going to gain a whole lot of support for the movement from both men and women - which is essential to its success, honestly - or ruin it.)

There are so many more issues we can address about feminism, but what's important to remember at this point is that you do not have to define yourself as a "feminist" - especially if you disagree with what some people who identify with that label do in their fight for equality (I, for one, don't agree with the "All Women" notions that tend to over-generalise in their aim to defeat stereotypes). What's important is that we fight together for a cause that will bring about global change, and that we work towards a place of greater equality for the sexes, where everybody will be able to enjoy the same rights and privileges. 

Existential Crisis Mode: Activated

It’s only five hours into half-term break and I’m already having my first mental breakdown of the long weekend. Honestly, I expected so much more from myself – I thought my over-worked mind would at least have the decency to wait until around 2 a.m. tomorrow morning before I was hit with the “Oh God I’m only one sixth of the way through matric and I’m already dying” avalanche of thoughts.

It wasn’t even that I had a huge workload that has set off my latest “let’s just remember how small I am in the huge scheme of things” crisis. It’s that I’m stuck in the middle of Magaliesburg, armed with only my laptop, a useless cellphone and my worn copy of Tess of the d’Urbervilles (which I swore I would finish this weekend if it killed me). So what’s the issue, you ask? What could possibly have triggered this “crisis” of which you speak? And what, pray tell, makes it so extreme that it inspired a blog?

Well, firstly I’m so not-in-the-right-frame-of-mind that it took me four tries to figure out whether to use “prey” or “pray” in that last sentence. Secondly, I’ve just answered the last question I asked myself first – something highly illogical considering we still haven’t figured out why I’m having this major crisis. Thirdly, did the previous point even make sense? I can’t tell. Fourthly, wait… is fourthly even a word?

DO YOU SEE THE PROBLEM WITH MY BRAIN AT THIS PRESENT MOMENT?

Anyway. Let’s just take a few steps back because I think I’ve thoroughly confused myself and gotten lost along a path I wasn’t even planning on taking – oh, hold up. That’s the whole issue in the first place isn’t it?

So back to the beginning: My latest and greatest “crisis” was triggered by the entirely self-inflicted thought that I would award myself with an entire afternoon to do anything I wanted. I promised myself that I would not let myself touch a single piece of schoolwork until tomorrow morning, and that I would not even think about that English film essay just waiting to be planned and written and scrapped and rewritten and cried over several times.

This wonderfully intelligent and well-meant plan didn’t work out so well when I discovered, after fifteen whole minutes of indulging in thoughts of what I could possibly do, that I had absolutely zero motivation to do anything.

So basically, I was bored. Simple. Except – BAM – add a few hormones, a body that hasn’t slept properly in just over a month, and a brain that’s still trying to figure out what “holiday” really means… Instant existential crisis.

Oh my word I don’t even know what I should do with myself for a couple of hours in one afternoon how am I supposed to decide what to do with myself after I finish school IF I even finish school wait didn’t I promise myself I wouldn’t even think about school today except that when I try not to think about school I can’t even think about anything because that’s how centered my life is on an institution that brings me nothing but pain and stress and heartache but also an extremely overpriced education that might just be useful to me in the future but not really because it’s a tradition kept in place by a society that tells us to sit in a building for twelve years and then get a job and pay for our children to sit in a building for twelve years so that they can get a job and pay for their children to sit in a building for twelve years when we could pretty much all live in harmony and farm our own food and have no form of currency and just barter for the things we need but America would never allow that because Capitalism is destroying all the hope in the world and is Communism even such a bad thing maybe I should move to China but then how am I going to pay to get there because I still have to finish my twelfth year in a building to get a job to receive income to pay taxes to fund the same institutions that teach us we have to go through this stupid process in the first place…

And so on and so forth.

Cue me lying on the floor listening to sad music and looking down on my life in utter misery.

But now I’m here writing this, which ultimately solved the problem of my boredom in the first place, so I suppose we can consider my existential crisis for the day officially over.

I just realized that ultimately this entire blog was totally without a point.

(Much like my life.)

(Oh my word, Amy, calm down life isn’t even that bad – you were bored, get over it.)

(I get the feeling that after I’ve posted this I’m just going to be stuck in the original situation again. Better start scouring the hotel for things to read that won’t send me into a state of mild depression.)

(…I am so going to regret posting this in the morning. Eh… Consider this blog as a glimpse into the mind of a 21^st century teenager when faced with the unavoidable and incomprehensive concept of having nothing to do. It’s pitiful.)

"We're all part of the same sick little games"

Anybody who knows me at all will be extremely aware of my unfortunate obsession with All Time Low’s music. However, those who know me just a little better will have realised by now that my seemingly never-ending love for the band is not because of their looks or the punk-pop image they promote. It’s the lyrics that I’m desperately, hopelessly struck by.

Anyway, I had an inane thought today when I was listening to my iPod and ‘Sick Little Games’ came on. Let me be honest and say that while I do really like ‘Sick Little Games’ and its message, it wouldn’t be the first song I’d play to somebody who’d never heard of All Time Low before. At first listening, it’s not deep enough to be considered meaningful, but it’s also not incredible enough to become somebody’s favourite song immediately. Regardless I was listening to the lyrics rather intently today, and something clicked.

If you’ve never heard the song before, I recommend listening to it now. I really couldn’t care less if you don’t like this type of music. Just listen to the lyrics.

I’m going to assume that you took my advice, even though I know most of you wouldn’t have. *sigh*

In essence, the song is about how the artist is obsessed with watching celebrities, and truly aspires to be one of them. He wastes all his time playing the “sick little games” of the rich and famous, and watches all his friends slip away as he becomes more and more obsessed with the fame. The most disturbing part of the song, in my opinion, is the bridge: “If I play my cards right, I can make the big time. I could be a reason to stare. Caught up in the spotlight, shaking from the stage fright, how did I end up here?” The lyrics suggest that fame is not about talent, but “playing the cards right”. It is all just a game.

Sounds a little familiar, right? Think about it: isn’t our entire society based on the media, and the information we receive from them? And given that about forty percent – or even more – of mass media these days is based on useless celebrity news. So ultimately, we’re all caught up in the observation of people who are more talented, more likeable, more attractive, and consequently more famous than ourselves. Aren’t we all, in some sick way, a little crazed by the very idea of celebrities? (Hell, you just have to look at the way this very blog that you are reading right now was inspired by a song by a vaguely famous band.) Don’t those glossy magazines with creative names like ‘People’ and ‘You’ sell billions of copies every week? And why? Because billions of people are obsessed with other people whose biggest issue in life is how to spend their excessive money on a wedding that’s not too bland, not too flashy, but just right (and yet still cost more than it would to build twenty hospitals in Zimbabwe). That is messed up.

As a teenager who is significantly less interested in celebrities than other people my age, I’m probably a little more confused with the obsession my counterparts seem to have with the celebrity world. I think I’ve been personally shunned at least fifteen times this year because I don’t dedicate a small part of my life to watching ‘Keeping Up With The Kardashians’. It’s seen as a sin, an absolute crime, that I as a teenage girl do not waste my precious time watching another girl cry for twenty minutes about how she lost her diamond earring – which probably cost about the same amount of money as my house. Seriously? Seriously?

Let’s take one step back, shall we? Kim Kardashian – the star of afore mentioned ‘Keeping Up With The Kardashians’ – is one of the most famous people in the world. Not for her kind-heartedness, not for her charitableness, not even for rescuing a kitten out of a tree. She’s famous for a sex tape that went viral.

I like to think that if aliens were to invade our planet right now and take a look at our society, they’d obliterate the entire human race simply because we’ve idolized a woman who took a poorly-filmed video of herself having sexual intercourse with some male, and is now one of the richest and most famous people in the world.

This is crazy. It’s sick. It’s even worse that thousands of humans are desperate to be famous, and are molding themselves after people like Kim Kardashian, Miley Cyrus and Justin Bieber. Not the best role models out there… The value of simple talent – and not just for the things that get you on TV – has been lost almost completely. As human beings, we’re more interested in what’s going on with the people on our TV screens than we are about helping other people.

But, you know, I’m not an Oscar-winning actress, or a rock star, or a supermodel. I’m not famous, so it’s not like what I have to say will give any more meaning to your life.

Just something to think about.