Feminist Camp

I just returned from a week long pre-college leadership program for young women at a college that will remain unnamed.  I was brimming with excitement to attend the competitive program, for which I had to write several essays on feminism, submit grades and teacher recommendations.  I anticipated a group of smart, articulate young feminists, eager to share their knowledge, skills and connect with like-minded girls.  Perhaps I got my hopes up, or perhaps I'm an outlier.  When I got there, I took a poll: how many of the young women identified as feminists?  Approximately eight out of the 60 in attendance said yes.  I was shocked.  This was a "feminist camp."  Why were young women who had to write essays on what feminism meant to them so reluctant to wear that term with pride?

I've heard similar anecdotes about most women in the real world: they don't identify as feminists because of the alienating stereotypes attached.  But even at a leadership institute, comments in the Women's History 101 class were prefaced with an "I'm not a feminist, but..."  Every time feminism was mentioned, someone would drag out the tired trope of "hairy man-hating harridans."  This term, I've found, is added only as a disclaimer to an identity, not as a descriptor of real people.  I challenge anyone who uses that phrase, or any variation thereof, to come up with a moderately famous person who fits that stereotype.  Only Andrea Dworkin comes to my mind, and she was hardly an accurate barometer of feminism.

More disturbing was how so many of the participants presented themselves in class. In school, I'm one of the few girls who raises her hand.  Turns out, I was one of the few at feminist camp as well.  Our women's history instructor read out a list of names of famous women, seeing who could explain each one's significance.  "Angela Merkel?" she tried.  Not a flicker of recognition among the bunch.  "Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf?  Michelle Bachelet? Katharine Graham? Mary McLeod Bethune? Jane Addams?"  The room was embarrassingly silent.  I felt like an anomaly for eagerly explaining who each person was, let alone knowing.  When a girl would tentatively venture to identify someone like Frida Kahlo or Hillary Clinton, her vocal patterns would be as dismaying as the group's silence.  Without exception, each comment was prefaced with an "um,"  followed within a few words with a "like,"  peppered with "y'knows" and ending in an upward inflection that would ordinarily signify a question.  Though these are common speech patterns for teenage girls, it was discouraging to hear the young leaders of tomorrow speak in such halting and uncertain terms.

The disappointment of peers ignorant of feminism, women's history and lacking in speech confidence was overshadowed, however, by the astonishing ambition of the young women.  There were future doctors, politicians, executives and artists among them, all of whom were hardworking and dedicated to bettering the common good.  Instead of framing their experiences in terms of male oppression, they demanded to know why equality wasn't a given in out society.  Read your feminist history, ladies, I wanted to tell them.  Learn about our foremothers' struggles and progress, learn how to speak up without apology and you can succeed.  I am certain they will.