I'm Not Feminist Enough
On being an imperfect feminist in a world that demands perfection
Who cares about what I have to say?
Who do I think I am?
Am I feminist enough?
What if everyone finds out that I'm a hypocrite, who heard her brother say something sexist and didn't call him out?
What if all these people suddenly realize that they've made a huge mistake trusting me with their emails?
I'm a fraud.
I'm an imposter.
I don't belong.
I'm sad.
It may sound like I'm making things up but I often dream that people will see me for who I truly am - a poser and a liar.
They don't come often - these thoughts - but they come often enough.
I had, no, have so many ideas. So many things I want to do with myself and Feminist Inc. but I can't help but wonder if people are interested; if I'm ‘special and unique’ enough; if I'm a good enough feminist even though I have people I consider friends who say rubbish sometimes.
I feel guilty because I see other young people doing so much more: organising at the grassroots, having bigger platforms, being more consistent, essentially, leaving bigger impacts.
I don't hold others to these standards and I know everyone's journey is different but if I claim to be a feminist activist then should I not be doing more?
And even though I know systems of oppression don’t fall because one person works herself to the ground, I still catch myself thinking, “If I were more serious, I'd have helped a girl.”
Capitalism teaches us that we are only valuable if we’re productive.
Even my activism has started to feel like a hustle.
And I hate that.
The problems are infinite but we're finite. Systems of oppression were not built in a day and it will take a whole lot for them to fall.
So, what even is ‘enough’ effort, ‘enough’ thought, ‘enough’ activism?
I don't know much, but I know that enough=your best.
And if that best means showing up every other week writing this newsletter and speaking up whenever I can, then I'm okay.
Who even gave me the idea that I need to be perfect because I'm a feminist. I blame all these men on twitter, but maybe it's because I’ve seen how the world treats women who identify as feminists when they make not-so-feminist choices.
The internet has turned feminism into a performance where one misstep becomes evidence of your entire illegitimacy.
There's this unspoken rule that once you call yourself a feminist, you forfeit the right to be human. To have bad days, complicated relationships, moments of silence, or the simple desire to exist without constantly proving your worth to strangers online.
I'm still scared, I still have bad dreams, and I still wonder. But I'm not letting that stop me. I'm still going to implement my ideas. Even if they don't work out. Even if they flop. I'm still going to start all the projects I've been telling my friends about. Even if I feel like a fraud.
Maybe that's what makes me a feminist after all.
Roxanne Gay’s Bad Feminist literally talks about this
Self doubt is human nature. I like to think that regardless of likes or subscribers, sharing our thoughts, stories, research, etc sows seeds and sparks thought and more ideas, which can lead to change. We can’t always know how much of an impact we have, but as long as we are trying, we are doing.