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I don’t want to be a feminist anymore. Like a five-year-old, I want to close my eyes, stick my fingers in my ears, stomp my feet on the floor and scream “No! No, you cannot make me, I won’t, leave me alone!” I am, simply put, too tired. So very, very tired.
I am tired of being told “But we HAVE equality!”
I am tired of being asked. I am tired of being asked if I’m a lesbian or if I was raped. I am tired of being asked if daddy didn’t treat me right. If I was in an abusive relationship. If I was beaten. If I grew up with a single mother. If I don’t like sex. I am sick and tired of being asked “But, why are you a feminist, then?” I am tired of being asked why I wear make-up. Why I wear a bra. Why I wear skirts and dresses. Why I flirt with men. Why I shave my legs. I am tired of asking “why do you ask me this?” and hearing the answer “because real feminists are against those things, aren’t they?”
Most of all, I am tired of knowing. Knowing that my eyes have been opened, and that what has been seen cannot be unseen. I am tired of knowing it, when I see something that is wrong. I am tired of knowing that only speaking out can change it. I am tired of knowing exactly how hard and scary it can be to do so. I am tired of knowing that if I am not careful, the fight will eat up my hope and strength, and leave me only with bitterness. I am tired of knowing that I can never turn back to not knowing. I am tired of knowing that despite my fears and exhaustion, I am a feminist.
No, I don’t want to be a feminist anymore – today.
Tomorrow? Tomorrow I think I’ll try again.
