The Fuel for 'Feminism' & Reclaiming the 'Feminine'

I’m Annie.  You probably know that.  So if you’ve met me, read my blog, followed me on twitter or simply heard of me, you probably also know me as a ‘Feminist’.  

“Hi, meet Annie, she’s a feminist”

“Oh so you’re Annie the feminist”

“You’re that feminist aren’t you, so why do you hate men then?”

As if it isn’t bad enough that feminists have been given the label of ‘man haters’ (see blog post on the F word), but my beliefs about gender equality have somehow managed to present themselves as my sole identity.  You may as well brand a big ‘F’ into my forehead!  

So for the sake of my own social retribution, let me explain why that ‘F’ should be replaced with a ‘C’.

Once upon a time there was a girl who was very angry and bitter, yet passionate about justice.  She dressed in dark clothing to match her dark soul and dark thoughts and she didn’t really like anyone.  She was sad and lonely and never really had much of an example of true ‘masculinity’ in the way that God intended it to be.  She saw violence, hatred, rage, malice and deception.  The definition of ‘man’ was: reckless predator with high alcohol content.  She felt the inflictions of this broken image and her heart gave birth to feminism, a screaming baby with high demands to be consoled.  She kicked and screamed and fought this ‘otherness’ of men that she just could not understand, as anger fuelled the journey in her search for peace between men and women.  Needless to say, anger does not breed justice.  No peace was found.

It wasn’t until the girl was touched by God, and for the first time in her life felt what is confined to the word ‘love’, that things began to change.  Her heart was transformed - a true miracle.  A perfect father affectionately placed his hand on the screaming rage and brought peace to an angry feminist.  All of a sudden, into her life came a figure of real ‘masculinity’, of love and comfort and adoration.  A protector had found her.  But she didn’t want to be protected, this was all new to her, she denied such love at first, and time was leant to her to grapple in search of understanding.  Darkness was all she’d ever known, so what was this light?  She tried to find ‘Mother God’, she found her, yet something was lacking.  Then God sent her an earthly father, a man persistent in love, a reflection of the heavenly parent who never gives up on his children.  She could not escape this physical presence and she softened, and as she learnt to receive love, she learnt also to give love in return.  The bitterness was made weak by the strength of deep compassion, and the feminist fell in love with Jesus the man and God the Father.

And they lived happily ever after...?  Well, almost.
The fuel behind my feminism has changed, but it is still there, just as it is there for God who hates violence and loves the unity of man and woman.  As we know, Jesus spent most of his life trying to liberate women.  My feminism is not something to be feared, or scoffed at, or joked about, because it’s probably not what you think it is.  So, to clear things up:

I am not a feminist because I hate men, but because I love them.

I am not a feminist because I love women more, but because I want men and women to love one another.

So I love men, does that make me a bad feminist?  Arguably I am ‘better at feminism’ now I’ve had a change of heart and the fuel is pure.  Through embracing an image of truer masculinity, I have also come to see the ‘feminine’ that once was lacking from my feminism.  Blessed also with an earthly godmother as of late, it has become all too evident that my desires have changed and my fears have been lifted.  Over time the dark clothes disappeared, I stopped hiding behind my grim image and bitter grudges against the hurt I’d suffered.  An exchange was made as the frustration of being weak and vulnerable evaporated, and was replaced by a new celebration of my God-given feminine beauty and a real sense of joy and peace that I am a woman.  So what if I’d like to be a wife and a mother!  Does that make me any less of a person?  You’d think so according to my own determined political passions, but being a feminist is NOT about becoming as ‘masculine’ as possible and denying all those wonderful things that women are so dearly blessed with.  I am a feminist whose heart has grown to love her femininity, to embrace it even and enjoy it for the blessing that it is.  I am a feminist who loves men and women for all their differences and unique characteristics that are equally beautiful reflections of a divine God.

If I were branded, brand me with a ‘C’.  I belong to Christ, and my love for him comes first, as he first loved me.  The consequence of this is an outpouring of that love, so through me flows a passion for the lost and broken.  A consequence of this is my feminism.  For God so loved the world, man and woman, that he made us all in his beautiful image - God so loved the world, man and woman, that he gave his only son to set us free of conflict and hatred.  And there you have it.

¿A qué te dedicas?

This week I am staying with the Grandparents at their house on the south coast of Spain.  They’ve lived here for almost seven years now, they love it but they miss the grandchildren, so I try to visit them at least once a year.  My Grandfather is a smart man, a retired businessman with a strong mind.  We usually engage in debates about something or other as we sit under the stars on the porch, his traditional conservatism contrasting with my postmodern liberalism.  It’s a great bonding tool.  A topic that seems to have dominated our conversation this week is the topic of careers.  ‘What do you want to do with your life when you leave university?’

The truth is I have absolutely no idea what I want to do…  Here in Spain the recession has hit harder than most places, surprisingly even worse than in the UK.  People are running around looking for any kind of work they can lay their hands on, men even walking the main roads clutching hand written signs, offering to clean your car inside and out for a mere €3.  The desperation is shocking.  A person’s job is often central to their life.  In most cases people would argue that their job is their life, financial income being their source of food, housing and health care.  As well as bringing such security, our jobs seem to play a huge part in our identity and our social life.  When we introduce ourselves to people we often say our name, age, and what we do for a living.  When we make friends, we are more inclined toward those who have interesting careers, keeping useful contacts to boost our social framework.  It is so easy to judge a persons entire personality based on what they do for a living.

So those of us who are holding that pin, where do we want to place ourselves upon the map of socioeconomic institutes that make up the working world?  At the moment I don’t want to do anything.  But simultaneously I don’t want to do nothing.  So where do I go?  I’ve been discussing various careers with my Grandfather and he has been suggesting areas of work that pay well, careers that haven’t been threatened by the recession.  I feel I suit none of his suggestions.  I find myself considering these jobs merely out of necessity rather than real interest.  But then I think: why should I do something that has no real worth?  After all, what is money gained when precious time is spent?  I’m with Morrissey on this one: ‘I was looking for a job and then I found a job, and heaven knows I’m miserable now… in my life, why do I give valuable time, to people who don’t care if I live or I die?’

So does having a job mean sacrificing your spirit?  Too many people today are doing jobs because they ‘have’ to, the stress and competitiveness of the work place driving people insane.  People have forgotten about the things they really love.  How many people have you heard uttering phrases such as ‘I always wanted to do this but…’ and ‘I wish I’d have tried this when I was younger’?  The pressure of finding a career smothers any real flame of passion that might have burned within us, many of us going for life roles that bring us the greatest financial gain or the strongest sense of security.  Following this comes the death of spontaneity.

I’m not saying that this is the case for everyone.  I’m sure that there are many people that love their job and are quite happy to work hard in a career for the majority of their lives.  I’m simply saying that perhaps we should question the system: how do we know it’s right?  I’m no economist, but it seems to work economically (most of the time), but how does it work for the soul of the individual?  We are not inclined to ask such questions because we are all born into this system, and we are taught from a young age to live and work for our future.  We go to school to learn the basics to then move up to secondary school, then we work hard to attain enough GCSE’s to get into a good college or sixth form, work even more to get sufficient A Levels to get into a good university, and then get lost somewhere between 1^st class degrees, masters degrees and PhD’s.  Then you compete to get into a career, work your ass off, retire and die.  The idea is that you can’t have fun until you retire, but then only during the time between hip replacement operations and queuing for your pension to pay for your TV license before (heaven forbid) you can no longer watch Corrie and Strictly Come Dancing!

It’s depressing to even think about let alone to live it out!  To me it seems clear that the system is all wrong.  Working nine till five in one job doing one thing, day after day after day, is the most torturous idea I can imagine.  Where is the freedom, the passion, the spontaneity.  Where is the living in ‘making a living’?  I know what you’re thinking, ‘what a ridiculous sensationalist idea!’ but why does it have to be so? 

‘…and if you must go to work tomorrow, well if I were you I really wouldn’t bother, for there are brighter sides to life and I should know because I’ve seen them…’

                                                                                   - Steven Patrick Morrissey