I became a feminist because of my hate for men and what they have done to my body, mind, and soul. I stayed a feminist because of my love for women and what they have done to my mind, body, and soul.
I Became a Feminist Because of My Hate for Men.
It became increasingly easy to have some disdain for men. My father was the first man I ever deeply loved, and the first to be the biggest disappointment in my life. I loved him to the point in which his self and issues damaged my perception of men. I let my perception and love carry me on a storm cloud to:
Man 1: A man who induced my miscarriage to save him self from his wealth racist family having a negro grandchild.
Man 2: A man who slap my mouth closed so hard I felt like I got hit by a truck.
Man 3: A man who threw money out the window and drove off on one occasion and flirted maliciously with women calling at him on an outdoor shooting excursion.
It felt like the only choice I had was to become what I thought a feminist should be, or should I say a womanist. I called myself a womanist before I understood that black feminism was already separate from white feminism. I’m a black feminist, aka a feminist. Anyway, What I thought a feminist should be was steeped in hate for another gender, and that made no sense, for me. Feminism needed to be a love for my fellow ladies (My ladies who are black, indigenous, POC, trans, disabled, and REAL white allies.) Instead of bringing that other gender down, I needed to learn to build up the gender and non-binary folks undeserved. I’m still learning. But I can say the love for women is stronger than it’s ever been.
I Stayed A Feminist Because of My Love For Women.
I always remembered what love for women looked like. It looked like my mother. She did everything in our household. My mother bricked our fireplace, laid marble tile on our cold basement floors, and still made dinner that night. Momma is beautiful in all her flaws, and her love saved my life. It took me a while, but now I can see her love reflected in:
The two women who laughed with me in the rain so hard until we cried and looked wild.
The woman who held me twice through serious heart breaks and would whisper “I’m for you bro, I got you.”
The woman who held my hand and ate pizza with me when I was a wreck.
Loving women should have always been my introduction into feminism, a world where women show each other so much love that it becomes the water that flows over them and helps them flourish. The 1% and the media have done a fantastic job at creating little silos where we each get to live. We have all of our basic needs met and more, but we lack sisterhood. I love women! Some of them are awful and rude, but for me, recently it’s about 10%. I love love. Thank you, ladies, for helping inspire love in me, helping me stop hating men, and letting me love you.