Stacy Coontz is a journalism and political science student at
the University of Kentucky.
By Stacy Coontz
Daily Bruin Contributor
Attached to a bulletin board in my apartment is a button that
reads "Feminism is the radical notion that women are people
too."
I bought it at the State Fair this year, courtesy of the
Jefferson County National Organization of Women. I would have never
stopped at that booth five years ago. I would never have spoken
with the women sitting there, much less bought several buttons from
them.
What changed all that?
Five years ago, I would have never called myself a feminist. I
had set images of feminists, and I didn’t fit any of them.
Feminists, I thought, hated men. They didn’t wear dresses or do
anything remotely "girly." On the other hand, I didn’t hate men;
most of my best friends were male. I loved dresses. I even
collected Barbie dolls. How on earth could I possibly be a
feminist?
I believed that women and men were equal. I thought women should
be able to do as they wished; just because I had no desire to be a
nuclear physicist didn’t mean I should be barred from that role. Of
course, I also assumed everyone thought that way.
I grew up in a wonderful family that taught me there were no
limits on me, save those I imposed myself. In their eyes, I could
do anything I wanted. My choices of careers ranged from astronaut
to president to zoo keeper. I went to a school where the girls were
required to take shop, and the guys were required to take home
economics. My school system never gave me problems over what I
wanted to do. Two XX chromosomes did not pose a barrier.
Imagine my surprise when I got to college and realized other
people were not as fortunate as myself.
There was the guy who sat behind me in one class and told me I
didn’t belong here. I should be home, learning to be a good wife,
and I was taking up space in a class a friend of his wanted to
take.
Not being shy, I promptly informed him of my grade point average
(which, by the way, was higher than his) and told him if he
couldn’t deal with women in his classes to return to his own
century.
I watched my female friends go through similar situations. I saw
how furious one science-minded woman became when a guy made some
crack about women not knowing their way around a chemistry lab
because they don’t understand science. This year, I listened to my
younger sister protest because the high school she attends took her
out of auto mechanics and placed her in home economics, much to her
dismay. She really wanted to learn how to fix her car. But she
can’t, not in school anyway.
Those were the mild occurrences. I have friends with eating
disorders, friends who have been raped, friends who have been
forced into unwanted roles – all because of gender.
That’s what woke me up. My internal alarm went off and said
"There is something seriously wrong with this picture."
I have taken innumerable classes in which we discussed feminism,
both as a political theory and as a cultural theory. My views
aren’t as radical as others I have read, but apparently they are
still a bit more radical than some people’s views. I still believe
all people should be equal. I have no intense dislike of men in
general (although there are a few individuals with whom I am
displeased). To me, there should be no barriers solely because of
gender. I do not wish to join The Citadel, but obviously some women
do (whether Shannon Faulkner should have been admitted is another
argument entirely).
I support electing women to office, but I refuse to vote for a
woman who has political views the exact opposite of mine, just
because she is female. I believe that women should be free to
choose their path in life: if I want to work, fine. But if I want
to stay home and raise a family, that’s fine, too. I have my own
personal definition of feminism: the right of a woman to choose her
own role on the stage of life where no one may dictate to her or
force her to go against her own wishes.
Feminism is still, years after Betty Friedan and Gloria Steinem,
a controversial subject. There are still a million stereotypes
bouncing around. I am not certain where my previous views of
feminism came from, but I’m willing to guess a good deal came from
the media. Conflict plays well, and the extremes always get great
press. It’s time for those of us in the middle to speak.
That’s me; I’m a moderate feminist. It took me almost 17 years
to realize it, but it’s true.