Feminism: Giving the dirty word a much-needed bath

MANILA, Philippines - I don’t need feminism,” I remember telling a female org mate so many years ago. “I don’t feel the oppression they are talking about. I can do whatever I want to do.”

“Me, too,” she agreed.

The setting of this conversation was in the country’s premier university — a haven of liberating ideas that had yet to trickle down to the rest of society. My friend and I were privileged enough to be swimming around in this bubble of freedom and social standing. Of course, we didn’t feel anything.

In her widely lauded UN speech, Emma Watson attempted to give the word “feminism” a bath, and it was one that was much needed. See, gender equality has traveled far enough to grant women access to education, the right to vote, and the freedom to speak their minds in some parts of the world. But the tragic part is, instead of being aware of how much further there is to push, many of those empowered or affected by its currently limited reach assume that the fight is over, because in their realities it practically is. Suddenly, feminism is the domain of angsty and nit-picky “man-haters” who for some angry reason are not yet satisfied with how good they have it.

A closer inspection

Other than the self-centered, navel-gazing tendencies of youth, I have no idea how I managed to convince myself that there was nothing more to fight for. I guess I just wasn’t paying enough attention, because really, one doesn’t have to look so hard. I may not have been one of the rural African girls denied a secondary education, but I did spend my entire adolescence convinced that the reason I didn’t have a boyfriend (and would continue having a hard time finding one) was because I was too strong a character. This was a view reinforced by those around me — that I had to tone it down and learn to be submissive if I were ever to find love. I’m glad I got over this issue, because trying to be the nice girl was making me boring and wasn’t bringing any boys to the yard either. It was when I threw fate to the winds and picked up my strength for the sake of being true to myself that people strangely flocked to me — even though real Cate was at least 10 times bitchier than “nice” Cate.

And that’s just one of the many, “shallower” concerns that come with being a woman today. I could go on. There is the matter of how certain men assume that the reason I stepped out of the house in shorts is to please them. How my monthly period remains more taboo than the act of defecating. How some people automatically assume that I have issues just because I’m not interested in having children. How for the longest time I was convinced that as a woman, I was needy for commitment when it came to dating. (Closer inspection of myself revealed that while I did want intimacy, I was also equally protective of my freedom, and equally scared of being tied down.) For a while, I thought that made me half-man, but as Watson pointed out, why can’t we view gender on a spectrum instead of two opposing ideas? Is there any reason why some feelings and states of being should be off-limits to me?

A snuggle with a struggle

This week, we had a mass-produced T-shirt in the country’s biggest mall chain encouraging and trivializing rape. And at the much-anticipated catwalk event of a big clothing brand, we had a woman demeaningly being led onstage attached to a leash.

On the surface, it may seem trivial, especially since the parties involved have already denied and/or apologized for these slips and recommitted their stands regarding women. But I don’t believe in mere slips. I think you can always trace these things to more significant and pervading attitudes, like how the leaked naked bodies of female celebrities were treated as free-for-all fodder — and how any woman knows that that is exactly how she will be treated should she be so unfortunate. Being harassed and cat-called on the streets is a good enough preview of the worse things that may come if you aren’t careful.

We also can’t claim enough how we consider rape a serious issue — until a victim comes out, and for reasons that seem perfectly legitimate to us, we proceed to subject her to malicious doubt and slut shaming — or the even more crippling silence. Maybe “snuggle with a struggle” was an accurate way to describe the status quo of our thinking — at least as far as our failure to stand for another human being and their rights is concerned.

Still, on another level, feminism seems like a begging plea by victims (women) to their oppressors (men). But I was 21 when I realized how lucky I was to have the freedom to be weak when I needed to be — and how having the space to be sensitive and to fail, even to the point of falling apart, was essential to being genuinely whole and strong.

“When women get hurt, no matter how bad it is, they’re just hurt,” I was telling my friend recently. “But when men get hurt, it’s different. It’s like there’s this implosion that happens, and you can’t tell how far it reaches or what it does to him.”

“And the effects last longer,” he agreed with me. Women bled, while men got cancer — because they didn’t have permission to bleed.

Double-sided oppression

I used to buy into this oppression, too, dismissively assuming that men had to be good providers — until I started working and realized how hard it was to provide for myself and to stay afloat. From that point on, I decided that even though I still wanted someone with drive and who worked for his own keep, I could never complain about any financial “shortcomings” when it came to taking care of me — especially if I myself was struggling to meet my needs and wants.

In dating, women are often brainwashed to think that they need a man, but lately, I’ve found that men need a world of things, too. And by that, I don’t just mean sex. I used to believe in the Disney ideal of a knight in shining armor, even after I stopped buying into the idea that I was a damsel in distress. But as I learned to listen and pay attention to the other person, I found that there is much for me to do and to contribute. I learned to grow and realize that I had it in me to take care of another person, and that people, no matter what gender they are, need things from other people. It’s been strangely liberating to give up my Prince Charming fantasy and trade it for the reality that I was simply with another human being. There was less role-playing and more room to deal with whatever had to be dealt with. And as a byproduct, I found myself getting stronger, richer, and more capable. I found that I simultaneously had oceans of bitchiness and grace.

Men have no idea what they’re missing out on when they don’t permit their women to be fully actualized and strong for them. I loved how the UP Pep Squad demonstrated this in their competition routine where women also carried the men, effectively demonstrating how shattering such confines wasn’t going to be the end of order and civilization; and that our society has actually been aching for balance to be restored. I look forward to the day when we are completely done telling each other what roles we ought to fit into — who ought to be stronger or weaker than who. When we can all simply be who we are and give ourselves the permission to carry and be carried as needed.

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