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By Roxane Gay

The world changes faster than we can fathom in ways that are complicated.  These bewildering changes often leave us raw. The cultural climate is shifting, particularly for women as we contend with the retrenchment of reproductive freedom, the persistence of rape culture, and the flawed if not damaging representations of women we’re consuming in music, movies, and literature. We have a comedian  asking his fans to touch women lightly on their stomachs because ignoring personal  boundaries  is oh so funny. We have all manner  of music glorifying the degrada- tion of women, and damnit, that music is catchy so I often find myself singing along as my very being is diminished. Singers like Robin Thicke know “we want it.” Rappers like Jay-Z use the word “bitch”  like punctuation. Movies, more often than not, tell the stories of men as if men’s stories are the only stories that matter. When women are involved, they are sidekicks, the romantic  in- terests, the afterthoughts. Rarely do women get to be the center of attention.  Rarely do our stories get to matter.

How do we bring attention  to these issues? How do we do so in ways that will actually be heard? How do we find the necessary language for talking about the inequalities and injustices women face, both  great and small? As I’ve gotten  older, feminism has answered these questions, at least in part. Feminism is flawed, but it offers, at its best, a way to navigate this shifting cultural climate. Feminism has certainly helped me find my voice. Feminism has helped me believe my voice matters, even in this world where there are so many voices demanding  to be heard.

How do we reconcile the imperfections  of feminism with all the good it can do? In truth,  feminism is flawed because it is a movement powered by people and people are inherently flawed. For whatever reason, we hold feminism to an unreasonable  standard where the movement must be everything we want and must always make the best choices. When feminism falls short of our expectations,  we decide the problem is with feminism rather than with the flawed people who act in the name of the movement.

The problem  with movements is that, all too often, they are associated only with the most visible figures, the people with the biggest platforms and the loudest, most provocative voices. But feminism is not whatever philosophy is being spouted by the pop- ular media feminist flavor of the week, at least not entirely.

Feminism, as of late, has suffered from a certain guilt by association because we conflate feminism with women who advocate feminism as part  of their personal  brand.  When  these figure- heads say what we want to hear, we put them up on the Feminist Pedestal, and when they do something we don’t like, we knock them right off and then say there’s something wrong with femi- nism because our feminist leaders have failed us. We forget the difference between feminism and Professional Feminists.

I openly embrace the label of bad feminist. I do so because I am flawed and human. I am not terribly well versed in feminist history. I am not as well read in key feminist texts as I would like to be. I have certain . . . interests and personality traits and opinions that may not fall in line with mainstream feminism, but I am still a feminist. I cannot tell you how freeing it has been to accept this about myself.

I embrace the label of bad feminist because I am human.  I am messy. I’m not trying to be an example. I am not trying to be per- fect. I am not trying to say I have all the answers. I am not trying to say I’m right. I am just trying—trying to support  what I believe in, trying to do some good in this world, trying to make some noise with my writing while also being myself: a woman who loves pink and likes to get freaky and sometimes dances her ass off to music she knows, she knows, is terrible for women and who sometimes plays dumb  with repairmen  because it’s just easier to let them feel macho than it is to stand on the moral high ground.

I am a bad  feminist because  I never want to be placed  on a Feminist  Pedestal.  People  who are placed  on pedestals  are expected  to pose, perfectly. Then they get knocked  off when they fuck it up. I regularly fuck it up. Consider me already knocked  off.

When  I was younger, I disavowed feminism with alarming frequency. I understand why women still fall over themselves to disavow feminism, to distance themselves. I disavowed feminism because when I was called a feminist, the label felt like an insult. In fact, it was generally intended  as such. When  I was called a feminist, during those days, my first thought  was, But I willingly give blow jobs. I had it in my head that I could not both be a fem- inist and be sexually open. I had lots of strange things in my head during my teens and twenties.

I disavowed feminism because I had no rational understanding of the movement. I was called a feminist, and what I heard was, “You are an angry, sex-hating, man-hating  victim lady person.”

This caricature is how feminists have been warped by the people who fear feminism most, the same people  who have the most to lose when feminism succeeds.  Anytime I remember  how I once disavowed feminism, I am ashamed of my ignorance. I am ashamed of my fear because mostly the disavowal was grounded in the fear that I would be ostracized, that I would be seen as a troublemaker, that I would never be accepted by the mainstream.

I get angry when women disavow feminism and shun the fem- inist label but say they support  all the advances born of feminism because I see a disconnect  that does not need to be there. I get angry but I understand and hope someday we will live in a cul- ture where we don’t need to distance ourselves from the feminist label, where the label doesn’t make us afraid of being alone, of being too different, of wanting too much.

I try to keep my feminism simple. I know feminism is complex and evolving and flawed. I know feminism will not and cannot fix everything. I believe in equal opportunities for women and men. I believe in women having reproductive freedom  and af- fordable and unfettered access to the health care they need. I be- lieve women should be paid as much as men for doing the same work. Feminism is a choice, and if a woman does not want to be a feminist, that is her right, but it is still my responsibility to fight for her rights. I believe feminism is grounded in supporting the choices of women even if we wouldn’t make certain choices for ourselves. I believe women not just in the United States but throughout the world deserve equality and freedom  but know I am in no position  to tell women of other  cultures  what that equality and freedom should look like.

I resisted feminism in my late teens and my twenties because I worried  that  feminism wouldn’t allow me to be the mess of a woman I knew myself to be. But then I began to learn more about  feminism. I learned to separate feminism from Feminism or Feminists  or the idea of an Essential Feminism—one  true feminism to dominate  all of womankind.  It was easy to embrace feminism when I realized it was advocating for gender equality in all realms, while also making the effort to be intersectional, to consider  all the other  factors that influence who we are and how we move through  the world. Feminism has given me peace. Feminism has given me guiding principles for how I write, how I read, how I live. I do stray from these principles, but I also know it’s okay when I do not live up to my best feminist self.

Women of color, queer women, and transgender  women need to be better included in the feminist project. Women from these groups have been shamefully abandoned by Capital-F Feminism, time and again. This is a hard,  painful truth.  This is where a lot of people  run into resisting feminism, trying to create distance between the movement and where they stand. Believe me, I understand. For years, I decided  feminism wasn’t for me as a black woman, as a woman who has been queer identified at varying points  in her life, because feminism has, historically, been far more invested in improving the lives of heterosexual  white women to the detriment  of all others.

But two wrongs do not make a right. Feminism’s failings do not mean we should eschew feminism entirely. People do terrible things all the time, but we don’t regularly disown our humanity. We disavow the terrible things. We should disavow the failures of feminism without disavowing its many successes and how far we have come.

We don’t all have to believe in the same feminism. Feminism can be pluralistic so long as we respect the different feminisms we carry with us, so long as we give enough of a damn to try to minimize the fractures among us.

Feminism will better  succeed with collective effort, but fem- inist success can also rise out of personal conduct.  I hear many young women  say they can’t  find well-known  feminists with whom they identify. That  can be disheartening,  but  I say, let us (try to) become  the feminists we would like to see moving through  the world.

When  you can’t find someone  to follow, you have to find a way to lead by example. In this collection of essays, I’m trying to lead, in a small, imperfect way. I am raising my voice as a bad feminist. I am taking a stand as a bad feminist. I offer insights on our culture and how we consume it. The essays in this collection also examine race in contemporary film, the limits of “diversity,” and how innovation is rarely satisfying; it is rarely enough. I call for creating new, more inclusive measures for literary excellence and take a closer look at HBO’s Girls and the phenomenon of the Fifty Shades trilogy. These essays are political and they are personal. They are, like feminism, flawed, but they come from a genuine place. I am just one woman trying to make sense of this world we live in. I’m raising my voice to show all the ways we have room to want more, to do better.

From Bad Feminist By Roxane Gay               Harper Perennial New York 2014

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