I am a feminist.
I rebelled against this title for years, I didn’t like the armpit hair wearing, man hater connotation that it seems to carry. But I believe men and women are equal, I believe their innate talents are different, but that their basic worth is equal. I believe that a woman should be able to chose any profession she wants and climb the corporate ladder as vigorously and as high as she wants and be paid equal. I believe that woman are just as intelligent as men. I believe that women have been objectified for so long that many women feel they are are worthless because they don’t weigh the same as they did when they were 14. I could go on and on, but I think you get the idea.
So what what I’m about to write may have some women gasping and hollering to have my membership card revoked.
I believe that submission to your husband in marriage can be healthy, and cause less strife and power struggles. As the head of our family kyle has huge responsibilities, and when he makes a decision he is sure of, the last thing he needs is me barking at him that he should do it my way.
I think that having 6 kids,and being a stay at home mom is a legitimate career choice. I may not be breaking down any walls as a star environmental lawyer, but raising decent human beings is worthwhile and earth changing.
I should be proud of my body. I am. Growing and delivering 4 beauties is AMAZING! So is knowing that within me me now new life lights. Nursing the three I got to keep, is one of my proudest achievements. I wish I could pull off that ‘my body is beautiful the way it is because it does what God made it to do, develop and nurture his greatest creation’ attutude and believe it entirely. I can’t. Sadly my near non exsitant bust didn’t make it through. My once firm and perky tiny boobs sadly have lost most of their breast tissue in nursing, and I now just have protruding nipples in place of breasts. I’ve never been able to fill out an A cup, but these days I need to wear a bra to give the illusion of breasts. Although this pregnancy is helping to fill them out, the only time I feel femine is during pregnancy for this very reason. This feminist is GASP… considering plastic surgery in a few years. Nothing drastic, I rationalize it by thinking of it as mostly reconstructive. But I don’t know if I can do it, and still be able to sit on the edge of Petra and Natalia’s bed and gently stoke their teenaged faces and tell them they are beautiful just the way they are, if I’m full of sillicone, and yet I would like to feel good in my skin.
So that’s it.
Good feminist, Bad feminist.