Why I Need Feminism

I walked out of the Midtown Cinema on a lovely Tuesday evening in August feeling energized and empowered. The YWCA and NOW had just screened an inspiring documentary, "She's Beautiful When She's Angry," which highlighted the dedicated and brilliant leaders of the women's movement from 1966 to 1971. Galvanized by this glimpse of the passionate and fearless feminists who had come before me, and exhilarated by the company of those working for change in Harrisburg today, I felt like I could do anything. Yet as I rounded the corner of the parking lot to go to my car, that familiar clench of fear returned as I checked the alley and reached for my keys. The many reasons why we need feminism were still spinning in my head, but in that moment I was reminded of why I need feminism.

I need feminism because I want to live in a world where being afraid is not synonymous with being a woman. Although sexism manifests itself in many ways - both subtle and overt - the most ever-present and jarring part for me is the fear. Fear of being harassed, attacked, raped, killed. Fear of both physical and sexual violence. For a long time I thought that it was just me - that I was just being anxious, and needed to get over it. But the more I have talked with other women and read articles like 34 Things Women Do to Stay Safe Show the Burden of 'Being Careful', the more I recognize that this is not a personal problem.

The second wave feminism of the 1960's and 70's was built upon the idea of "collective consciousness": that as we share the stories of our lives with one another, we realize that we are not alone; and what may have seemed like personal problems are recognized as societal problems that impact us all. Having named them as such, we are able to rise together to challenge the powers that be. The personal becomes the political.

Feminism has taught me that I am not alone in being afraid to walk by myself at night, not stopping to get gas after dark, checking around me before getting out of the car, and double-checking my locks before I go to bed. I am one woman, among many, living in a society where violence against women is the norm. I am one woman, among many, walking through rape culture everyday and trying not to become a statistic - all the while knowing how flawed the notion is that avoiding victimization is my responsibility to begin with.

Because statistics are not just numbers in a report - they are lives, women's lives that are forever altered after experiencing violence. They are the lives of my sisters, my friends, my co-workers - and these "statistics" invade even the most innocuous environments. This summer on a girls' getaway three of us had road tripped to visit a fourth girlfriend and her 18-month-old daughter, and we were all hanging out at the beach. Between playing in the waves and reapplying sunscreen, I had to wonder: Which one of us will be the 1 in 4 women to experience intimate partner violence? Which one of us will be the 1 in 5 women to be raped in our lifetime? And what kind of a world will this sweet, innocent little girl be growing up in?

So my message to all the women out there is: you are not alone, and you are not to blame. My message to all the men out there: you have to be part of creating a culture where violence against women is not the norm for your mothers, your daughters, your wives, your friends. We know that #NotAllMen are sexist, but #YesAllWomen experience sexism. This is the reality that we, as women, live with every single day.

I recognize, though, that women experience violence and the fear of violence differently depending on how our gender intersects with our other identities. I hold privileges as a white, cisgender woman that affords me a level of protection not available to women of color and trans women. So I am cognizant of the fact that although we all experience this, we do not all experience it the same.

If we are going to make change like our sisters before us did, we must be allies for one another. Women must support other women, intentionally reaching across lines of race, class, sexuality and gender identity to create a stronger force for change that recognizes all of our experiences. And men must support women, standing side-by-side with us. Because a world free of violence against women is a better world for everyone.

I imagine sometimes what this world would look like; what it would feel like. I imagine walking outside with confidence, and not encountering the invasive looks, words and actions of men who feel entitled to me. I imagine reading PennLive or my Facebook feed and not seeing reports of girls and women who have been molested, raped, attacked, killed. I imagine seeing trailers for new blockbusters or reruns of CSI that do not feature women being victimized. That, for me, is what a world without violence against women would look like.

Often, that world seems so far removed from our current realities that it is tempting to give up hope. However, I go back to the metaphor at the end of "She's Beautiful When She's Angry" - that of social change always being on the horizon. As we know, the horizon is a point in the distance that recedes as you move towards it – so our challenge as feminists is to keep moving forward, keep pushing for progress, and claim the opportunity that each generation has to create a better world for the next.

The sun setting over the Susquehanna River.