Experiential Feminism

As you all know, this is a new blog. So it was only the other day that I realized exactly what it was that this blog is "about." In trying to explain this to two of my friends last night, the best words I could come up with were, "Experiential Feminism."

(Or maybe "experiential feminism." Capitalization might be a little much here.)

Here's what I mean: this is not a blog like the wonderful Feministing, which brings you regular news of what's going on with feminist issues around the world, forming and informing feminist theory. Nor is it a dating blog, or even as personal a blog as Diary of a Mad Blacktress. What I really aim to do here is chronicle what it's like, on a day-to-day basis, being a young feminist in New York and in "today's world"--reconciling and melding the feminist ideals I grew up on with the realities of being a woman, making my way, etc etc.

What are these ideals, you may ask? And what these contradictions? That's fodder for a longer post (or several). But here are some of the basics: both my parents are self-avowed feminists, who had the habit of giving adult answers to any question I asked, supporting me in all my endeavors, and banning from the house anything bearing the word "diet. " It was good. Then puberty hit, and life got harder. Being smart and strong and vocal, and not obsessively counting calories, suddenly seemed totally at odds with getting boys, who were suddenly interesting to me. The older I got (get), the more I struggled (struggle) with the double-whammy that girls don't get as much respect as guys, but if they DO get respect then no one wants to sleep with them. (Or so it seemed.) And when I'm bombarded with negative messages about guys, how do I even get it up* to want one? Putting aside those kind of identity issues--how do I change the injustices? How do I cope with the fury that they, and my powerlessness, cause me?

I want to write about all this and more. I want to write about my life in part to figure it out as I go, but also to demonstrate (to myself and others) that feminism is a growing, malleable thing. I want to write about the myriad different ways in which we all make it a part of our everyday lives.

Also, The Pickup Artist.


*So to speak.