Why I’m Not A Feminist

First of all, let me point out that there are some fantastic people out there who identify themselves as feminists. Good for them. That label doesn’t hold for me.

All right. 100% honesty. Go!

You ready for this?

I didn’t care all that much. It was against my religion. Which one is that? The Church of Jesus Christ of Apathetic Latter Day Saints. ALDS, for short.

So, somehow, I couldn’t get too worked up about women’s issues. Some wage gap? Patriarchy? Abortion? Condoms versus birth control or tampons? Slut shaming? Who cares?

I’m a woman. I do what I want because I want to, not because it’s what’s expected of me. That’s feminism, right? Even if I don’t care about anything else?

But what about the more radical side? The bra burners and slut walkers and egalitarian rally crashers? “Kill all men?” “Male tears?” “Misandry 4 lyfe?” Women who scream sexism at the drop of a hat? Who have a tizzy when a man makes a joke about his feminine side?

Good grief. Give me a break.

My personal egalitarian crusade (if, indeed, it can be called that) began as a mere curiosity. A post I stumbled across on a psychology blog. But that led to the tags on Tumblr. And obsession reigned. I started to care about something.

Let’s talk about some double standards, shall we? Starting with women abusing men. Men, who are socialized to never hit a woman. Women, who are socialized that it’s okay to hit a man if he deserves it. Trust me, I’ve been hitting guys all my life. Even now, when I see how unfair it is, I still can’t stop myself. And a man being raped by a woman still sounds like a foreign concept. Too many male rape victims have been told they were lucky.

What about fiction? Abuse. Rape. You know what’s sad? We’ve all laughed it off. But if it was reversed, blood would be shed.

And, you know what? Women are good at playing the victim. They’ll cry rape, they’ll cry domestic violence, they’ll cry self-defense. They’ve gotten away with it. Men get told to “man up.” Because real men don’t cry. They’re supposed to be stronger than that. But above all: respect women. Even when said women don’t deserve respect.

Women look at men and see a potential abuser. They complain about being objectified, but then turn right around and objectify men. It’s sickening.

So, why am I not a feminist?

Because the women in my family screwed me up royally. They lied, manipulated, threw tantrums, hit, lied some more, were two-faced, and hoarded. My dad was the only relief from all of this crap.

I’ve wanted to be a boy for so long. But, if I’d been granted that wish, my sister’s play-the-victim tactics would have worked much better, and I probably would have been arrested. Because I suffer from effemiphobia, and can’t imagine what it must be like for a guy. Because all my life I’ve watched my father and uncle get pushed around by their overbearing (batshit crazy) wives. Because I believe that women are much more than victims, and need to quit whining. Because I don’t believe in objectification.

Because feminism—by its root, by its definition—is about women alone. Not equality.


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