Why I Became a Feminist, Pt. 3

by Guest Blogger

I am a man; I am a feminist. This is not the contradiction that it can appear to some people. In fact, I think being a feminist makes me a better man, the kind of man that I can be proud to be. It doesn’t mean that I want women to be superior to me or that I have any less desire to be a man. It means that my definition of being a man is different. It means that I don’t feel domination and oppression based on arbitrary gender roles have anything to do with being a man. I know that what makes me a man is simply genetics; that it’s my choices in life that matter and not my genitalia.

I think I can trace my feminism back to my mother and father, both staunch conservatives while I was growing up. My father was in the military and my mother was very open to being dominated; she would do what ever he wanted, almost without question. Even at eight years old, something about that didn’t seem right. I felt bad for my mom, like she was getting a raw deal. I don’t want to give off the impression that my father was abusive or that he demanded that sort of treatment, but it just seemed to be how it was. At one point, my dad went overseas for a year and my mom took a nose-dive right to the couch, barely moving from her comfort zone. Without my father around she didn’t know what to do; it was during that year that I came to the conclusion, without a doubt, that things shouldn’t be that way. No one person, man or woman, should be so dependent on another person that they cannot live their life without them. Now, I know that what happened to my mother was not simply a function of her devotion to my father, but also as a part of a series of mental conditions she later became diagnosed with, but the impression was still there. Some things never leave you.

My family wasn’t the only formative element in my development, throughout the years, I became friends with many different women. I don’t mean that I made female friends in an effort to have sex with them, although I am ashamed to admit that was something I did in my younger years. But no one is perfect. As I formed these friendships I began to notice the kind of things that other men my age were doing and saying about the women I knew and didn’t know. Women to most of them were nothing more than objects of desire, things to be had and used until they were done with them. Had they taken the time to get to know the girls that they were talking about, they could have realized how much more they had to offer than “ass, titties, and blow jobs.” I began to hear stories from more of my friends than I ever thought possible. These were about guys who would force themselves into a position in which my friends felt that they had to sleep with them. It was rape through emotional force as far as I saw, and it made me sick. I can’t tell you how many girls I knew that would go out on dates with young soldiers–fresh out of basic, full of testosterone, and a sense of entitlement–who would come back and cry to me about being raped. They were all too scared to say anything, because on post (like everywhere) it was always assumed that she had been willing to have sex or she wouldn’t have been in the guys barracks. If she was lucky, the guy would be charged with statutory rape and maybe get kicked out of the Army. At least half of the women I have dated throughout the years have confided in me that their fathers, uncles, brothers, or neighbors had molested them. One in particular had been molested at (roughly) six years old; she still has nightmares to this day about those terrible events. I am thankful everyday that the woman I love more than I have ever loved has never had to deal with that. I hope to someday leave a world where no one else will. Some things never leave you.

In high school I discovered radical politics. At some point most people toy with ideas like socialism and anarchism, or their polar opposites (although I’ve never known anyone to seriously espouse the virtues of fascism.) I read about populist movements, workers rights, and class warfare. I read Noam Chomsky, Rigoberta Menchu, Karl Marx, and Emma Goldman. I came to the conclusion early on that equality and egalitarianism meant everyone and not only a certain type of people. I have marched in LGBT rallies, seen inflammatory political speeches given by some of the most intelligent people I have ever met, and I have sat through class after class designed to teach me the importance of history (all of which were led by women who I could never imagine being superior to simply because they had a vagina). My studies of history have shown me how far we’ve come and how much more work we as a society need to do. Women are still underrepresented in our history books. They were rich and vibrant characters, not just fashion accessories.

I am not the best candidate for becoming a feminist, but here I am. I grew up in a Southern, conservative, military family and spent much of my time in southern conservative, military towns. I am American, white, and male, which makes me part of the most privileged group of people to ever walk this earth, but here I am. I have learned lessons that most men will never learn, because some things will never leave you.

- Ian

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The “Why I Became a Feminist” series is open to anyone who identifies as feminist and wants to share their story. Please email me at rottenlittlegirls @ gmail.com and I will consider publishing your piece in this series. I’d love to have a broad range of voices and experiences.

Part 1 and Part 2 of the series.