Mini-Mina
Before I met my husband, I dated someone who was very close friends with a woman who regarded herself as a staunch feminist. She didn't like me. I had only met her once, had been nothing but polite and accommodating, and this was perhaps part of the reason why she didn't like me. According to her, I was too feminine, "a damsel in distress."
I wear long skirts. I always have, ever since elementary school. They began as a way to mimic Mina Harker from Dracula, which elementary me read and loved, and later became a central part of my own style. I wear my hair long. I always have, ever since kindergarten, because I like long hair and I enjoy the options I have to play around with it. I'm a small woman, on the shorter side of average, with a slight build. I like cooking, and knitting, and stuffed animals, and small, cute creatures. I like glitter and playing dress-up and putting on make-up. I'm a homemaker, a stay-at-home spouse who takes care of the house while my husband works. I hope one day to be a mother.
None of this means that I am not strong or smart or capable. Femininity does not equate to weakness. And you don't have to give up your femininity to be "a good feminist."
I realize that now, but at the time I felt taken aback, even shamed. It took me a long time to undo this and other toxic messages about femininity, a long time to reclaim my femininity as a source of strength. I feel like I've come a long way, but sometimes this message creeps back into my skin, and I need some time to remember that I am no weaker for my long skirts and long hair, my lipstick and my sparkles. In fact, I think that if more people reclaimed a sense of their femininity, a sense of their gentler nature, an appreciation for flower crowns and the softer things in life, we'd be all the stronger for it.
