The F Word: My Feminist Journey

Photo Credit: Jessica Maynard

The year 2020 has been a wild ride, and it isn’t over yet. As I am sure it has done the same for many of you, it has caused me to reflect on my life: past, present and future. What I used to be passionate about, what has been lost to me over the years due to motherhood, working to stay afloat and just plain fear, and what I am going to do about it. I have been slowly overcoming this fear as I see many of my female friends speaking up about what is going on in our country. You beautiful, strong, intelligent, amazing women; you give me courage. 

My epiphany came from a place I least expected to find it: a movie trailer. I was watching the trailer for the Amazon Prime movie The Glorias based on Gloria Steinem’s book My Life on the Road. The woman playing Gloria in her young adult years is told by a man, who appears to be her co-worker or boss, “Don’t associate yourself with those crazy women”. She turns back with a smile and says, “I am one of those crazy women”. I have long thought myself to be a feminist but many times I kept it hidden because I feared being called crazy, bitch, man hater, etc. or being a target when all I wanted to do was blend in. I am done with that. 

Call me the F word with a capital F. I am a Feminist.

My journey to this proclamation all started with a name: Betty Friedan. She was a famous feminist author whom I was not aware of until a degrading episode with a male professor. In college I majored in education and minored in social studies, which consisted of history, economics and political science. This is the type of subject which would cause eyes to glaze over and responses like, “How boring” or “I didn’t know girls liked history”.

My career goal didn’t elicit any better responses. When the topic came up in conversation and I stated I wanted to be a history teacher, I received responses like, “Oh? Which sport are you going to coach?” or “Good luck getting a job if you aren’t a male football coach”. I was raised by a mother who is a business owner so I wasn’t prepared to be told I couldn’t be what I wanted because I wasn’t a jock with a penis. I was determined to prove them wrong and continued on my path, but not without bumps or sexist pop holes in the road.

​Back to Betty. It was the summer of 2005. That’s correct. Not 1905 or 1965, but 2005. I was sitting in my History of Latin America class and had just listened to weeks of the professor, an old school military type and true man’s man, speak of everything the men did in this history. So I did what any self-respecting woman would do: I asked him about the Latin American women and their accomplishments. He said, “Making babies and keeping house. Nothing to write home about. If you want to read about women, read Betty Friedan.”

I didn’t realize it in the moment, but he was making fun of me in front of the entire (mostly male) class. He implied if I wanted to learn about the history of women, I couldn’t find it in just any history book. I would need to seek it out in feminist literature where it belonged. I was not familiar with the author’s name he mentioned and said as much as I approached his desk after class for more information. The look on his face said it all. He wasn’t serious when he made that recommendation. He was making jest of one of the few women who were brave enough to take his class. That moment has stayed with me for 15 years and I will never forget how I felt.

At the time, I was working long hours at my summer job to get by. I would wake up early, head to the college library to study before class, go to class and then head straight to my summer job working food service at an amusement park. I even wore my uniform to class so I could go to my job immediately afterwards and would work until late at night. I was busting my ass just to pay for the seat in his class and he had the audacity to make me feel like I didn’t belong there; like I hadn’t earned it.

My time at university was eye opening to me in many ways. While walking on campus I saw a poster for a feminist club and decided to attend a meeting to learn more. It was in that meeting that I became aware of the Equal Rights Amendment (ERA) and the daunting truth; it had not been passed into law. At the time it was a shock. I felt my world flip upside down as if everything I had known about my worth as a girl, as a woman, was a lie. Now that I am looking back on the situation a decade and a half wiser, I realize I should have seen the signs. It was a wake up call and I was determined to prove we were a force to be reckoned with.

After graduation, my sheer determination to get hired as a history teacher drove me forward everyday. I worked as a substitute teacher during the school year and worked with at-risk children during my summers, applying to every job opening as soon as it was posted. Unfortunately, the Great Recession took over our economy and schools were laying off teachers more than they were hiring them. After three years of blood, sweat and no insurance (thank goodness for Planned Parenthood - shout out!), I made the difficult decision to change career paths.

I couldn’t tell you how many days I cried at my new job, answering calls from people inquiring about Medicare Supplement plans, because I felt like a failure. I had made it my mission to prove I could be a history teacher regardless of gender or coaching experience but instead I had proved them right. Only now, with the benefit of hindsight, do I see that job is where I was meant to be at that moment. I met people who I am friends with to this day and the experience at that job helped me get the position I currently work at a different insurance company. It is not the traditional classroom job I had sought out after college, however, my teaching skills come to good use when mentoring and training others and I know everywhere I have been has made me who I am today.

That being said, the extinguishing of my teaching ambitions was not the only career set back caused by my gender. When I first began seeing opportunities for advancement at my job, I was a single mother with a young daughter. My ex-husband was unreliable and the task of parenting was in my court more often than not. I was offered travel and overtime or asked to apply for higher ranking positions and I couldn’t, because I was a single mother with no family nearby and an ex-husband who struggled with being a dependable co-parent. I know not all men act this way and there are good ones out there, however, there are too many situations where a mother is left to financially and physically care for the children on her own and this just adds to the gender inequality we are already up against.

A few years went by and I found myself in love with a child on the way. I was over the moon about our son but was not prepared for how being a military spouse would quickly return me to my single mother days, this time with not one but two children. More opportunities for me to apply to higher salary positions came and went, with me in over my head trying to balance work and home. I requested to move my office home to help manage, and it did help in some ways, but it wasn’t enough. I had reached my breaking point and decided to apply for a role that was considered a level below what I was doing at the time. Of all the people I spoke to about my choice, the ones who understood the most were the working moms. There were many coworkers who thought I was crazy, but the working moms understood.

​Our careers are not the only place we face gender inequality. When it comes to home life, women bear most of the responsibilities. Still. In 2020. The COVID-19 Pandemic has only magnified that times ten. I saw it in my childhood with my mom running a business, caring for me and my sister plus the household chores and I swore things would be different for me. Yet here I am, working a full-time job the same as my husband and carrying a majority of the childcare and household obligations. Don’t get me wrong, my husband is a hardworking and loving man, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t room for growth. We’ve had many discussions about this topic and we will continue to have conversations on this topic until we are able to build a stronger relationship which makes us equal partners.

COVID-19 has caused many child care centers and schools to close. The reason for this, the safety of our children and the staff, is understandable; it is the after effects that are incomprehensible. In September, 865,000 women dropped out of the workforce according to a National Women’s Law Center analysis. This number is four times the amount of men who also left the workforce. The statistics are clear; more and more women are leaving their careers to stay home with their child due to lack of childcare or a move to virtual learning during this pandemic. The implications are also clear: one step forward, two steps back you silly girls.

I am blessed to have a job I can work from home but if you have ever worked your full-time job while also trying to watch your two year old and help your nine year old do her schoolwork, it is not exactly a picnic and everyone suffers from mom being stretched too thin. Also, having your toddler yell “I pooped!” while you are on a work call is a real possibility, take it from me. I love my children and I love my job but I am sick and tired of being penalized for having both. My heart goes out to the mothers making the hard decision to leave their careers and stay home during these difficult times.

Women are taught to put their husband, children, etc. before themselves. We are the nurturers and caregivers but soon burn out because we are not caring for ourselves. We must draw the lines, set the limits, say the hard no’s, but we do it as we fight the precedent and societal expectations set for generations. It will not be easy but we cannot lose the progress that was made by the feminists who came before us. After the loss of our beloved Ruth Bader Ginsburg, our rights are being threatened once again. We must vote, we must march and we must not be ashamed. We have value and deserve to have equal representation, rights and pay. We are a sisterhood. Let us (socially distanced) join hands and fight the good fight. 

And above all, don’t forget. We. Are. Feminists.