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!