So the Hawks played the other night. Not just played but nearly lost....In fact, they were looking so far gone that hubby was nearly ready to change the channel. Luckily they didn't (thank God, because a Hawks loss means a very cranky Daddy for at least a day or two). Despite the outcome, this ridiculously tense game did mean at least two hours of tourettes style shouting, swearing, moaning and ridiculously loud cries of “What the firetruck was that?!”
Whatever the preferred code of football in your house, I’m sure many of you can empathise with me on this one. It’s not too bad during other games. Sometimes we can even get away with watching something else and just flicking during the ads for a score update. But if the Hawks are playing then look out…..all kids need to be bathed, fed and sound asleep, dishes done, all conversations completed, with a signed contract committing me to no interruptions, before the game begins.
In my house it then goes one step further. Not only do we have to be prepared at all times for the sudden deafening roars, we also have to deal with the fact that my darling man thinks that he has missed his calling as an AFL umpire (umpire or referee? I’ve told you before, I’m sports illiterate) The comments range from, “Hmmm, good call that,” to “What the fluffy duck was he thinking?!” When he is not waking up the baby across the road with all the noise, it’s a constant commentary of what the umpires are not seeing that my husband is, what they are going to see in the next few seconds (because he thinks he’s some sort of sports psychic and can predict calls before the umpires even make them), what they’ve done right, what they’ve done wrong and most of all what they should have done instead. In other words he is an expert. That’s right. My husband, is an expert and honestly believes (and he’s not joking, he HONESTLY believes it) that he missed his calling as an AFL umpire.
And you know what, that’s ok. Because I too missed my calling and feel that I need to work just as hard as him to fulfill my true vocation…….as a wine connoisseur and personal shopper. Vino, anyone?
So there is this campaign going on at the moment. It’s all over tumblr, occasionally pops up on my Facebook feed and has reared its head on Twitter as well.
Hmmmmmm, I’m not quite sure where to start on this one.
When I first read it, and looked at all the pictures I didn’t quite know what to think. I kind of understood where some of these women (or in some cases young girls) were coming from. I don’t hate men either, I don’t think I am weak and I do like the odd car door opened for me.
What I didn’t like was the majority of these women and their complete misunderstanding of what 21st century feminism is.
I am a feminist. Not a bra burning, marching the streets, shouting anti male slogans feminist.
But I am a feminist. And this is why....
I am a feminist because on the 14th of April 2014, 200 girls were marched out of their dormitory beds, abducted, and sold…..like cattle.
I am a feminist because on September 12th, 2013, in Pakistan, Muslim men stormed the home of three Christian women, beat them, stripped them naked and tortured them, and then paraded them in the nude in a village in the Kasur district.
I am a feminist because in more than half the countries where female circumcision is still practiced, the majority of girls are circumcised before they even turn 5 years old.
I am a feminist because there is still a Wicked camper driving around that says, “Inside every little princess is a slut that just wants to try it,” and my 11 year old daughter can read it.
Rebecca West, the famous British author and journalist once said, “I myself have never been able to find out precisely what feminism is: I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat."
I am not a feminist because I hate men. Nor am I feminist because I think I am a victim.
I am a feminist because I am lucky enough to live in a country where I don’t encounter many sexist issues anymore. I have choice and I have a voice when so many do not.
That is why I am a feminist.