Me: The Closet Feminist

I wrote before I knew women had to write under pseudonyms to get their books published.

And I rode my bike without knowing in some countries the ban on women doing so has only just been lifted.

I was a feminist before I knew of the stigma that comes with it.

I recently discovered I’d been a closet feminist my whole life. Not hiding from embarrassment or shame, but from a lack of motivation. Without the feeling I could actually change something. It hadn’t occurred to me that what I considered just to be me being overly opinionated, and a tendency to never shut my mouth, could potentially do some good. And it turned out I wasn’t the only one objecting to rape jokes, or to ‘lad’ culture, and there were others doing it with much louder voices, and there were even more who were beginning to sit up and take notice.

My savior came in the form of my mum, armed with a copy of the Guardian.

It was International Women’s Day and I’d been reading on Twitter -feeling slightly depressed there was still a need for this day, rather than just a celebration, but more importantly at that time, procrastinating from revision.

“There’s a girl in the newspaper, about your age. She’s been using Twitter for feminism. This sounds like your sort of thing.”

Now I’m a member of TYFA. I’ve spoken to brilliant feminists from across the world. I’ve read horrifying statistics and personal accounts that remind me, this is not a grey area, this is not something that can be debated against. And it doesn’t matter if no-one reads this blog, or even if its attacked by misogynistic idiots. Because I’ve seen what can be done, and I’ve seen what’s still to be done. So now I’m proud to say, irrelevant of whatever stick I may get from it, that I am a feminist.

Originally posted on 'The Happy Feminist."