Confessions Of A Fierce Yet Flawed Feminist: Is This Your Story Too?

If I am intimidated and slightly jealous of my friend’s achievements but I shove that feeling down and cheer her on with the loudest voice possible, how good a feminist am I?

If in 9th grade I sided with my biased math teacher when she bullied a boy I’d studied my entire life with just because I was her favourite, how good a feminist am I?

If I wholeheartedly support my friends exploring their identity and yet find it difficult to complete reading an article about a throuple because I can’t comprehend how such a relationship is possible, how good a feminist am I?

If my clothes get longer and more sanskari when I reach my hometown though it isn’t what I’m used to or comfortable in, how good a feminist am I?

If in spite of being the middle schooler who made a boy cry, I still breakdown if the affections of a man I like changes in the slightest, how good a feminist am I?

I do all this and yet

I enter into the most number of arguments with my male friends about the misogynistic ideals that they’re used to, and am the first to educate their ignorance.

I’m that niece that my old fashioned uncle avoids, because he knows that any joke he makes about my youngest nephew and I being darker skinned than rest of the family is going to end up with me calling out generations of this disgusting behavior, that eventually led to me stocking up on talcum powder.

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I’m that friend who stood up for you when your high school bully took it upon himself to scream at you in front of 50 people even though he was double my size and it shook me to my bones.

I’m that person who rages with tears in her eyes to fiercely protect her ideals of feminism in front of her family and friends, though she failed to do so in front of her highly sexist teachers (sighs, approval seeking has always been my low point).

And I’m that crazy powerful woman who lifts extremely heavy boxes, orders around a group of 50 juniors to do their job, sends spur of the moment emails to NGOs she admires asking them to hire her, and can handle a full day’s social interactions even if her day at home wasn’t the blissful place everyone thought it to be.

I’m still learning, from the most surprising of sources!

The last year and a half I’ve learnt more about myself being at home, safe and secure in my own room mostly from stories my best friend tells me about her apartment every evening at 6, and from people on the internet who have been messiahs in such tough times.

I’ve learnt that my body image, the one that I’ve always wanted to fit into the mould of a perfect woman, was only as distorted as I let it be.

I’ve learnt that the beautiful, talented boy who does makeup tutorials online could just as easily be my neighbor (why is that 10 times more difficult to accept?).

I’ve learnt to look at myself in selfies I have flipped to no longer be a mirror image and I’ve learned to like it.

I’ve learnt that the support system I have always longed for has been building itself all around me, in the form of my brother, friends I made last year, girls I’ve known my entire life, and those few boys who paid heed to my words about issues that were previously considered ‘just women’s issues’.

Currently I’m learning from my best friend’s 7 year old neighbor who got absolutely fed up with one of her little admirers and told him to back off (boundaries, people!).

I’m also learning from how instagram moms are teaching sex education to their children when they ask about it (no more bees and flowers for them cue applause).

The reason this article is made up of personal anecdotes is that feminism is a personal journey.

It is the choices you make to make yourself more empathetic, more bold and passionate about the world you are building for your future.

It is gaining the most out of the experiences of fellow women. It is setting goals and standards for myself that is defined only by what I learn everyday and not dictated by anyone else.

The way I define it might change by my experiences tomorrow but this has been my journey so far. How about yours?

Image source: a still from the film Qarib Qarib Singlle

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