A Real Feminist

I never considered myself a feminist. I was born in 1967. So of course I grew up an environment where woman had to fight for their rights, and burn their bras. Sure woman have had the right to vote since 1889, but in the scheme of things, that wasn’t that long ago. And did it get us equal rights? We have not been treated equal in any aspect of modern life. Woman lost their majestic power I imagine they had in ancient times when woman were revered for their healing powers and ancient wisdom. Somewhere along the line that powerful force inside woman was squashed. Was it out of fear? What else could it be? Or is that men are just assholes who decided they were bigger and stronger than women and were going to rule over them and pay them 50 cents to the dollar for the same work? I don’t know. All I know is that I saw it clearly when I was young and decided I wasn’t a feminist but rather a smart ass woman who was an opportunist. I used my looks and feminine charms to get what I wanted. I wasn’t going to let anything stop me. I was going to get what I wanted at any cost. And I did. I flirted, lied, manipulated, and maybe even at times slept my way to success. I didn’t care. That was a real feminist in my mind. Fuck the system. Fuck the patriarchy. And fuck you too if you got in my way. I was mad. By the time I went to university to study architecture in 1985, I was one of 3 women in the entire architectural college, out of hundreds. One of the girls was a lesbian, and I say that in the nicest of ways. I love lesbians. They got it right. They are real feminist. They don’t fuck men. I love it. Anyway, they were both better than me at everything. I didn’t take any drafting in high school but had taken woodshop instead, with my bestie Joellen. We were the only 2 girls in the class. I still have a cheeseboard I made. Today Jo is still one of my besties. Her and I are both horse woman today and have a need for speed and adventure. But neither one of us considered ourselves to be feminists. That felt like an excuse to us.  A cop out. It felt like a big whiny complaint that made woman look even more like victims.  I chose instead to just play the fucking game and get my way. In college I was so mad and angry and had a huge chip on my shoulder and I didn’t know why. I was just mad. I would pick physical fights with men. Most of them wouldn’t hit a woman, but they had no problem punching whatever guy I was with. I didn’t care. I was mad. And now the guy who just got punched is pretty mad too. But hey, I didn’t ask him to fight my fight. That’s was his own macho bullshit.

When the ‘Me Too’ movement came along, I woke up. Of course ‘me too’. Me too a thousand times. I wasn’t even paying attention to the ME TOO. I just thought it was part of the system, the game if you will, and you had to play along if you wanted to get anywhere. Stop winging. Just make shit happen any way you must. But it got me thinking? This isn’t OK. This is not normal. Wait a minute? Why have I been so complacent? Why didn’t I do something earlier? How could I just play the game and not try and change the game. I became so, so proud of my younger soul sisters who took on that challenge. Hell yes. You go girls. Fuck that. This time I got mad but now I knew who I was mad at. The patriarchy. And I was mad as hell.

At 57 years old, I have everything I have ever wanted. I didn’t let anything stop me. I got married, had a career in architecture and raised a family. And one day, the flood gates of anger just blew open. It’s all that anger and visceral got me here. Let me tell you, I did not get here because I felt I deserved it. That’s for sure. My self-worth was in the toilet . You would never know it. I came across as confident. Not easily shaken and not easily embarrassed. But deep down, I felt unworthy. My whole life I’ve been told I was a crazy, wild woman who most likely needed a good man to control her. And God bless that poor man who ends up with Shanon. I took on that narrative. I played into that narrative. I went along with it. Not realizing that my self-worth was not good. I let my husband start talking to me disrespectfully. I deserved it. After all, I was a crazy woman who would go feral if I didn’t have a man to keep me in my place. I was told that I would grow old as a lonely cat lady. Today, when someone says that to me, I tell them not to threaten me with a good time. I love cats.

Not surprisingly, I had another wake up call after the Barbie movie. My God, the shit we have been dealing with. Why haven’t I seen it before? It’s right there, clear as day before my eyes. The inequality, The gaslighting. The powerplays. The blatant sexual assault. It’s all right there. But this time I’m old. My looks don’t matter. I don’t need a career. I have money in the bank. I had my babies. I could now be a real feminist. Like, here I am. I’ve been through some shit. I overcome that shit. And I’m fucking mad as hell that I had to play that game to get my shit. Mad as hell. What do I do with all this anger towards the patriarchy? I realize I have been explaining myself, apologizing or myself and letting my husband talk to me disrespectfully. Thank God I woke up. Thanks to the younger generation of woman who showed me the way. Not that I didn’t pave that way by being the only girl in woodshop in 1983, or one of the only women in the architecture college in 1985. Or my unapologetic attitude towards sex when all my friends were still lying about having had casual sex. I never did. I owned it. I never felt ashamed. But now I am ashamed that I didn’t see how I was playing into the game. I’m ashamed I didn’t see it earlier. I see it now. Clear as day. And I’m mad again. This time I will proudly call myself a feminist. Me and my grey hair and my loud unapologetic ways, look out. Here I come. It started with my marriage. My husband had to become aware of things he was not aware of. He’s had to get real with his mansplaining ways. I wasn’t taking anymore. I know my husband respects me deep down. But strong woman can be hard for men. My dad never liked me. I was not his type. He liked sweet, quiet, introverted woman. HA! That was not me. And he made it known that he didn’t like me or most of my friends. And I didn’t Iike him either. He was a narcissistic man who treated woman poorly. My husband is not my father. He respects woman. I do think he is also just a product of his time. I had to reteach him how I wanted to be treated. I no longer will explain myself.  I will no longer apologize for myself either if I don’t mean it. Just NO. I am ready now to officially call myself a feminist. I will roar loudly and unapologetically. I will fight for equal rights. I will fight for woman to get the respect they deserve. We were once revered. We will be revered once again. Of course, a partnership is about a division of duties. Those duties need to be agreed upon. Both parties need to agree to the terms. Sometimes woman work and men stay home with the kids and sometimes men work and woman stay home with the kids. But woman today still carry the burden of the daily chores. That is not fair. We work, cook, clean, pay bills, and take care of the children. It’s not been fair. It is still not fair. But that’s for the individual parties to work out a fair and equitable deal. Woman have taken all this on themselves. We have set ourselves up for failure. We tried to ‘do it all’. And that’s a ridiculous standard that has made us woman tired, overworked and resentful. We need to stand our ground. Take off our martyr hats and demand respect, equal pay and fair divisions of duties. We need to stop doing all the work without getting any of the credit. How many times I have let the old white man take the credit? I’m ashamed.

My daughter has more self esteem than I had at her age and my mom instilled me with more self worth than she was given. It gets better with each generation. My mother was in love with my father. He was an alcoholic with a list of other addictions, and she suffered from mental and physical abuse from him for years. I watched her cower to my dad and keep her mouth shut. She was not able to stand up for us kids because she was scared too. I didn’t do that. If my husband was being unfair, I did not stay on ‘the same the page’ like therapist tell you to do. Fuck that. I stood up for my kids in the face of his unjust treatment. Just because he’s the father, the man of house, doesn’t make him right. My mother was an amazing woman; smart, beautiful and elegant. Everyone loved and respected her. But she couldn’t speak her mind. She did however tell me two things that stuck with me; never have children with a man under 30. And never rely on a man financially. Wow – that was bold for her day. And I listened. I was hell bent on never relying on a man or anyone for that matter. My daughter will succeed in life because I taught her self worth. I already see a huge difference in her generation; The Gen Z’s. I love this generation of anything goes. You can be a man or woman or neither or even a furbee. They don’t care and have fought for the right to be themselves. Bravo Gen Z! I’m with you. I will now fight like hell for you. I will proudly wear the pink beanie and march with you. And I have nothing to lose and everything to gain. I finally know who I am and where I have come from. I am not sorry. You can call me an hysterical women and I will promptly come kick your ass and make you sorry you ever met me. I didn’t get to where I am because I felt I deserved it. I got here because I was mad as hell. And I am madder than I have ever been. I see it clearly now. The game I played. The back seat I took. The attitude I endured. Had I been less attractive, things may have been different. I had what they call today ‘Pretty Privilege’. When I walked into a room, all the men saw was tits and ass. And I played along. I used my looks to get ahead. I had to. What choice did I have? Today, woman have more choices. They still have a long way to go. I have several woman family members is their late 30’s early 40’s and they work fulltime and the husbands stay home with the kids. Which is fucking fantastic. But when these mothers get home from a long day at work, the babies get handed to them and their second job begins. The cooking and cleaning and child care. What the fuck? It does remind me of an old Native American tale about the division on duty between men and woman. The men said one day, why do the men go out and hunt and the woman stay at camp and prep the food and take care of the babies? We can switch roles. So the woman went off to hunt for the day and the men stayed at camp to crush the acorns, weave the baskets, get the fire going, take care of the children and have dinner ready for the return of the woman hunters. Of course, the woman came home with a kill, but dinner was not ready when they returned to camp. The acorns were not crushed. The fires were not started. The children were dirty and hungry and the camp was a disaster. The men realized the woman could do both roles, but were better than the men at those more domestic jobs. So the men from that point forward revered the woman for doing those impossibly hard jobs. They were recognized, appreciated and respected. Those days were lost centuries ago. Woman were systematically burned at the stake in more ways than one. We have had to do BOTH jobs twice as hard to get paid half the salary. Why haven’t I seen it until now. I mean really see it. I see it now. And already I feel different. Already I hold myself in the majestic womanhood that I should have been holding myself in decades ago. I’m being treated differently because I feel different. I am older than half the population. That makes me more experienced. You cant tell me what to do. I’ve been there and done that. I’ve hunted and I crushed. I have experience on my side that the younger woman don’t have. I will fight for these young woman. I will no longer be complaisant and accept the system. I have been part of the problem the whole time. I am ashamed of myself and vow to do better. And be better. And do for others what they can not do for themselves. I am mad. But this time know why! Look out!

My friend Jo on her horse Halo in Utah taken from me on the back on my horse Stella. 2023