I am a Feminist!

The bus to your next chapter always arrives on time I find.

The new destination for me turned out to be feminism and the first leg was a book called 'How to be a Woman' by Caitlin Moran. Absolutely brilliant read. I wish all my learning had me snorting with laughter. Really this book is as much biographical as a discussion on feminism, but whatever you want to file it under, it is really bloody funny. Tre gaffaw.
And so there is my husband on his side of the bed, quietly reading 'A Game of Thrones' and then me on my side, slapping my thigh, tears rolling down my face, stuffing the doona in my gob to muffle my laughter. It is pointless reading him the extra marvellous bits, he just shrugs and looks bemused by my beaming blotchy face.

I probably won't buy a slogan t-shirt, but Caitlin helped me want to be a feminist. Actually, can I say here that I think the word 'feminist' is a little bit wimpy, like a fairy with a lisp. Which is ironic because it's all about empowering. But anyway, it's not that I didn't have views on the state of women, it's just that i was always a bit scared of Germaine Greer and thought if I declared myself a feminist, people would think I was a hairy, angry, argumentative man-hater. And really, I think people found me a little trying already.

Anyway, Now I know more about what a feminist really is, I can pop my name on the list of endorsers and I feel a few more buttons pop off the Coat Of Learnt Restraint. Being in a bookstore is handy because now I am devouring some more related reads. Of course, I have got Germaine Greer and Simone de Beauvoir which I will read with the light on, but right now the two I am reading and which I can highly recommend are "Nice Girls Just Don't Get It' by Lois P Frankel and Carol M Frohlinger and then 'Shattered' by Rebecca Asher.
The "Nice Girls' book is just fantastic for anyone who is afraid to put her full self out there for fear of offending someone (I think we all do this in some degree) and 'Shattered' whose full title includes- 'Modern motherhood and the illusion of equality' is for any parent or parent to be. This book is very much about men too and not in a negative way. It's really about antenatal care, maternity/paternity leave, work practices and relationship dynamics as ruled by the state, employers and the parenting industry.

These books are red pills I choose to take and open my eyes further to what is around me. Once I see clearly what I am wading ankle deep in on a daily basis I am empowered to change things for the better. I am really excited for myself, and I am also proud to be a better example for my children.
I think it is a hard line to walk between fear and equality, but humour really is a great travel companion.

The Slumbering Corpse Awakens

Part of my new tough love regime is 'Morning Pages'. Thought I'd share todays.

It’s ten to six. Obviously in telling you I am going for full sympathy or admiration.
I’ll take either if you fall for it. Truth is I woke up, it seemed light through the chinks in the blind, and the crazy skylight we installed in a retarded moment (it was dark in there that day. Truly.) so I got up because I knew I had to go into work early and it was surely minutes away from the alarm going off.
It wasn’t. It was 5am. Ugh.
So I slap myself in the forehead mentally with a mallet and put the kettle on. Nothing but drinking coffee can make these moments work out okay. And so here I am doing morning pages before even the first zingy young kookaburra can clear its throat.
What to write about? Oh I don’t know. What is there beyond moaning? I have to go to work, blah, blah (I volunteered), I have to go early (I always say I am a morning person), it’s cold (I tell people I hate the heat), I’m tired (because I had a big party), I feel a bit off on the tummy (because I have been eating too much crap), my skin doesn’t look good (see last note), it’s that time of the month (been happening this way for the last 25 years, were you expecting something different this time?) and the pets need feeding (you went out of your way to convince husband you needed them, searched extensively for them, paid big cash for them and have had them for years where they gave you love and devotion for free and ask little in return and don’t complain about often b-grade care, what do you want from these poor creatures exactly?).
So there you have it. Poor me in my nice snug house, having to go have a hot shower in my new bathroom to put on new clothes to drive to work in my new car to work in a bookshop. Life is, obviously hell for me. Boo-hoo.