I've been trying to read Chrystia Freeland's Plutocrats,and despite how well-written and interesting it is, I'm trudging along at a snail's pace. For a while I wasn't sure why. After all, I care a lot about income inequality. We studied this topic a lot in social work school, and this book definitely offers perspectives and insights beyond what we read about and discussed in class. If it's so interesting, why do I feel so detached? I've wondered. I care but I don't feel connected. At the same time,I also recently finished Caitlin Moran's How to be a Woman and, after a slower start for me, I loved it, especially the later chapters. Suddenly I'm feeling all rah-rah about feminism, and that is as surprising to me as my seeming disinterest in income disparity. What's happening?
Today, I got it. Also, social work school (and the work that resulted from it) overwhelms me. The questions and truths about this world and me and (more specifically) my expectations that cropped up during the MSW overwhelmed me, and some still continue to do so. The enormity of the problems overwhelm me. And here's what I think: the book on income equality is an energy zapper at this point. My overwhelm meter is currently filled up on this one, and I feel beaten into the dirt when I think about it. I can't seem to muster up a lot of hope on that one right now, and, therefore not a lot of desire to read about it. I'm not forgetting about it by any means, but focusing on it seems counter-productive for my state of mind right now. Feminism, on the other hand, is filling the energy up and giving. I feel a great sense of hope and empowerment from reading books by feminist authors or from watching things like Courtney Martin's TED talk.
Fail spectacularly! Do it in spite of the overwhelm! Help even one person! Those are the messages that are feeding me right now. The work is rough, with no promises of security or certainty, but you just keep going with purpose and pockets of joy.
I haven't spent a lot of time in my life thinking about what feminism is or means. Or, at least, I think about it but don't categorize it as "feminism". I sort of skirt along the fringes. Girl power! I guess. I came across Caitlin Moran in my readings about parenthood and making the decision of whether or not to have children, and then the other topics around feminism crept into my conscious and peaked my interest. I've always felt vaguely uncomfortable with the word since its definition has so often been generalized to regimented and unequivocal man-hating in our society. I've internalized that bs. I don't hate men. I like them. (Well, ok, there are a few I don't, but that's because they're unlikable arses, not because of their anatomy and automatic membership to the "patriarchy".) And, I mean, honestly, I've also had a fearful sense that identifying as a feminist could open me up to a whole new realm of judgment from all sides. Am I really feminist enough? Am I truly committed to the cause? Am I strong enough to deal with the criticism and outright hostility from those who think feminism is a crock, and, likewise, can I cope with possibly being a huge disappointment to the cause? I think it's entirely possible that I like, think, or do things the strident types would view with disapproval. Do I want to fit in or not? I'm the anxious type. These things worry me.
But, you know what? F that! Instead of shying away, I'm now ready to thoughtfully and openly explore feminism and my role in it. The time is right. I can even say the word with barely any hesitation or awkwardness! I feel energized reading and hearing the inspiring words of women who really seem to get it and can articulate it so beautifully. Light years beyond me. I see the passion, intelligence, and drive of these amazing women, and I think these are the real articles. I think, YES! True role models.
I'm still in no-man's land as far as making any decision about having kids goes. Tis the season of holiday gatherings, and I'm having lots of opportunities to interact with the tiny humans. I love it. That never changes. They are usually the most fun party guests. However, while jogging yesterday, I found my mind likening the idea of having children to homework. Grad school reminded me just how much I hate homework. It's endless. Even when you get caught up...Even when you feel like you accomplish something and get satisfaction from the work...It's just always there. The work is never done, and there is always another assignment looming. I remember coming home exhausted night after night and still having a ton of work to do. I resented it. I resisted it. I can't help but wonder if I would feel the same way about having a child. Would it be like one massive, long, high stakes homework assignment?
Santa, if you could bring me some clarity for 2013, that would be great.
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