I suppose I consider myself a feminist. In fact, of course I do. I would have said I am not a militant feminist, but maybe I am. I don’t like the term. But I also don’t like the fact it has negative connotations. Why should it? I believe fervently in equal rights: for men, for women; for blacks, for whites; for gays, for straights, for those just deciding, and those who have decided it all works for them.
Equal rights…. Isn’t that what it’s all about?
So yes, I guess I am a feminist – although I prefer humanist. I am for the people – all of them…. All of us… But ESPECIALLY those that can’t speak for themselves or have their voices heard.
Friday I was in a meeting, and it dawned on me that there were 13 people in the room. Of those 13 people, 12 were 6 foot tall white guys. And me. And ALL of us were wearing “the uniform” (including me): jeans and a collared shirt. (Actually, the most senior person in the room was wearing jeans and a shell-material zip up athletic hoodie – so there’s that.)
And I work in an entertainment industry in silicon valley. And my boss and my coworkers are great people. They aren’t sexist. They are pro-woman. They both have daughter and would happily consider themselves “feminists”. And they are. And yet still… 12 men and me. You do the maths!