Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Bad Feminist.

Dear Feminists,

I have always considered myself one of you. Always.

I mean, I went to an all-girls high school. And a womens' college. In fact, for years, there were members of my family who wondered if I was more than just a feminist. Maybe 'cause I didn't date until I was 21? And, geez, I just like the Indigo Girls music. Why does everyone make that such a big deal?

Anyways, I digress. If you were to ask me if I were a feminist I would say yes. Even when I quit my job to stay home with my girls. And when I decided to homeschool. And when I signed up as a Mary Kay Lady.

I believe women should be treated equally with men. Maybe not the same as men, but with an equal amount of respect and dignity. So, that makes me a feminist, right? I mean, heck, I hyphenated my last name. That has to count for something,

But, I am starting to wonder if I'm just fooling myself. Because, my feminist friends, I have been behaving like bad feminist.

Case in point:

The other day it was time to upgrade our chickens from starter feed to...whatever it is that comes after starter feed. So, I went to the feed store to get food. And I could have googled it so I would know just what they needed. But, I didn't. And I found myself in the feed store (a bastion of masculinity and testosterone second only to the men's room at the Super Bowl) reverting to some scary gender role stereotypes.

Since I didn't know what I needed I decided to fake it and ask for a 50lb bag of chicken feed. The very big, very young farmer boy looked at me with a look I recognize as one I give to my kids and asks, "what kind of chicken feed? scratch? or bla-bla-bla*? or something bla-bla*?"

To which, I completely switch into my helpless female voice and say, "Oh, man. I don't know. My husband asked me to come and get it and I can't remember what he said to get. I don't want to call him 'cause he'll clobber me for not remembering (oh, yeah, and he doesn't have a clue what I should get) do you think you could help me figure out what I need?"

And, suddenly, I was swarmed with overall-wearing farm boys anxious to save me from my chicken dilemma. It was too fun. I got my feed, had it carried out to my car, was treated so sweetly by those feed store boys, and preserved my husband's reputation for farm-knowledge.

So, feminists, I think this must mean I'm out of your club. I can't imagine anything less in keeping with your ideals. Which is a bummer 'cause I sure do like your music...

*not intended to be an exact representation of terms used by the delightfully helpful feed store boy.


Kelsey said...

Oh my gosh this had me laughing too funny!

marigold said...

Nah, you can still be feminist and ogle over cute overall-wearing boys who lift heavy things into your car. Totally! Swear!

I love the Indigo Girls, too. Like if I could just be a professional concert attender, they would be my group to attend!

The mom, the robot, and the dancer said...

Oh my word you crack me up! I LOVe it! And I'm a bad feminist for all the same reasons. You gotta pull out the girly-girl sometimes in those desperate situations!