Girl walks into the world 

& she learns the rules

& she tries to navigate 

& she gets tired

& she gets angry

& she gets loud. 

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Growing up a woman comes with conditioning by the outside world that is only apparent in hindsight as you try to unlearn the ingrained lessons. Women are taught to be especially polite, especially quiet, especially appeasing. Maybe not each individual woman, but women as a group are generally expected to be courteous, to think about the feelings of others, to consider how others might perceive them and act accordingly. As you grow up, if you’re a woman, you realize this is the only way to live if you hope to have some guarantee of safety. Being aware of and sensitive to the feelings of others might keep you out of a precarious situation; learning how to lie kindly and convincingly to a persistent man might mean the avoidance of violence. 

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I have been lucky to grow up with people who didn’t suppress my voice, to learn from strong women with open eyes and clear voices. I have been taught to think, to engage critically, to dig in—and that’s what I hope to do. Moving through the world as a woman means, to me, that there are questions to ask. The ways society, culture, and expectations are impacted by gender are endless, convoluted, intertwined. I’ve been looking at the world around me with a closer eye and exploring how I see things differently because I am a woman. 

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I’ve embraced the label of feminist because, for me, taking a closer look at how being a woman changes my experiences also necessitates speaking up about what I see. I’m not sure how to exist in the world and not be vocal about my opinions regarding the way society is failing women. I know there are men and women out there who believe the same things I believe but aren’t comfortable with the label; I can understand this. I can understand this especially with the way women who speak up to contest their lot are treated; the mutation of the word feminist into “feminazi,” as if we are committing a cardinal sin for acknowledging inequality and oppression and calling for change. 

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Though feminism is clearest way to identify who am I and what is important to me, feminism still falls short in so many ways. I still fall short. Sometimes I struggle with the word because I worry about the way it has been attached to white women who have the ability and the privilege to speak out. Feminism has, traditionally, worked only to benefit cis, straight, white women, and ignored those of other intersectional identities. I worry that the feminist movement will address the issues plaguing this niche group and leave everyone else behind. Feminism without intersectionality is no feminism at all. 

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When I think of the ways the movement isn’t equal, I think of the Women’s March on Washington, and all of the women in their pink pussy hats flooding the subway and the streets. It was beautiful, but centering a movement around reproductive justice is inevitably exclusive. We marched for women while suggesting to many of them that the fight was based on anatomy, which isn’t what makes a woman. I think of how most of the women I saw in D.C. were white and how afterward I saw news outlets impressed by how peaceful the protest was. I think of how news outlets attributed the peacefulness to the women and how they didn’t stop to consider the aggression that may have come from the other side had the streets instead been filled with women of color.

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I think of the Me Too movement, which happened because sources like the New York Times and the New Yorker dedicated time and resources to uncovering the truth and making sure the men who have abused their power face a reckoning. And this is important, and powerful, and a larger step forward than woman have had in some time. But there are women who have been left behind, who are abused and harassed at work and who cannot leave, who live with the pain and have to shut down the trauma each day because there is no reckoning there. Women whose voices don’t bring a spotlight are left behind.

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And even talking about girl power ostracizes nonbinary and gender fluid people. As much as I love to talk about how great women are, it’s important for me to remember and work on my language, to think about the identities I might be excluding with my rhetoric. There are so many words we have to work with, it’s not hard to find a better one that encompasses everyone—it’s just a matter of energy.

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And feminism is for men, too; it’s for men who don’t feel safe to feel things, who don’t feel comfortable identifying as victims in whatever capacity, who struggle with asking for help when they need it. Toxic masculinity hurts everyone. 

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I think about how we consign women to talking only about women’s issues, like domestic violence and childcare, as if these are things that only affect women and that these are the only spheres women deserve to speak in. Women are invited to the table as a consolation prize, handed the issues that directly impact them but that can’t really hurt anyone else, in hopes of getting them to be quiet. I think of how it suggests that other issues should be left to the men, who perhaps are less familiar with the ways in which gun violence is a women’s issue, who have often decided that they are the ones best equipped to regulate a reproductive system despite having never carried children. I think about how loudly we have to speak to demand that someone pay attention to rape culture, to sexual harassment in the workplace, to the healthcare system and the number of maternal deaths. If you are a white woman, it is dangerous to exist in the world. If you are a woman of color, a transgender woman, a woman in the LGBTQ+ community, a disabled women, a woman and any other one or many intersecting identities, it is even more dangerous to exist in the world. 

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I think about all of these things and sometimes i feel rage inside me moving at a rolling boil. And sometimes it is too much, and I am too tired, and the rage bubbles on at a low simmer, and it’s easy to pretend for a minute that being a woman in the world doesn’t come with any extra obstacles or rules or baggage.

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But it does, and that’s why I need feminism. Feminism means the freedom of expression regardless of where you identify on the spectrum of gender and sexuality; feminism means the freedom to live life as it suits you; feminism means equality for everyone. And this is why I stick with the word, even with its shortcomings and flaws, even with those claiming feminism to a radical degree. Feminism, at its core, is about equality; it’s about boosting women who have historically been kept from positions of power, who have been kept out of decisions that impacted them. It’s for those whose identities have been denied, ridiculed, and targeted. I don’t want to abandon the movement because of the cracks within it; I want to speak up about the ways feminism can help women as long as it is intersectional, and hope that the movement can be a space where everyone is welcome to fight for the changes we all need.