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29 July 2014

Feminish

Because I honestly don't know.


Could it be I’m not a feminist? I’m never really sure.
I don’t think it means the thing I used to think it meant before.
And despite the helpful anecdotes and practical suggestions
From enthusiastic people on the web, I have some questions:

Can I shave my legs and armpits? Can I shop for sexy bras?
Can I ask for help with moving house and stubborn lids on jars?
Can I sneak a sidelong glance at well-formed bottoms at the gym?
Can I praise a man’s physique without objectifying him?

If I take my husband’s surname, have I finished being me?
If I earn more than my partner, is that inequality?
If I pole-dance in a bar, am I exploited or empowered?
If I don’t walk home at night-time, am I smart or just a coward?

Is it ok if I giggle when a sexist joke is funny?
Is it ok if I answer when a male friend calls me “honey”?
Is it ok to say “suffragist” instead of “suffragette”?
Is it ok if I don’t assume that every man’s a threat?

Should I ask the girl who risks her life by learning maths and reading?
Or the woman left to perish slowly, faceless, cut and bleeding?
Should I ask how FGM or acid-throwing victims feel
About whether it’s insulting when a man pays for a meal?