My Feminist Heart is Sore
Today, I sympathize with all the worn out shoes in the world. I’m a little faded, and my butt is metaphorically wearing away. If you notice my shoes are untied, please don’t tell me. I probably already know. That’s why I’m taking a reality vacation. Starting today, I’m insulating myself from the world. What exactly does that entail?
For starters, it involved regurgitating all the evils of the world on my closest confidants. (Thank you guys!)
Second, I inhaled a bowl of pho, a plate of deep fried yams, and a large strawberry bubble tea for dinner last night.
Third, I’m going to take a break from the 24 hour news cycle. Every new, terrible story is another dagger in my bleeding, feminist heart. I am the kind of person who wants to be aware of all that is going on. I feel a responsibility to know. I don’t want to avert my eyes. The lives of all victims need to be told! But right now, it is affecting my mental health. I feel powerless to do much about solving any of the world’s problems. Mass media’s depiction of young girls? I’ll tackle it next week. Global warming? Maybe tomorrow. Prison industry? I’ll work something out this summer. Monsanto and Cargill ruining everyone’s lives? I’ll have to give you a rain check on that one.
Here is the big thing though: I am going to start acknowledging the things I DO HAVE THE POWER TO CHANGE. I am going to stop minimizing what I, and others, can do everyday.
I can stand up to someone who I see harming others. I can sign online petitions. I can email my local representatives. I can donate a small amount of money to causes I care about. I can choose not to spend my money on products and company’s that I don’t support. I can continue to bring up feminist talking points around those that are unfamiliar with them. I can attend local lectures and support local change makers. I can lead by example.
Maybe in a few weeks I can hit the ground running, knocking out commentators left and right when a new article comes out about another popular male figure raping or beating someone up. Until I’m ready, I’ll be watching episodes of Bob’s Burgers and trying to write something lighthearted.
Does anyone out there have some tried and true advice for curing feminist fatigue?