Today I am an “Angry Feminist”

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Y’know what? There’s a reason feminists become “angry”. It’s because you wake up and check your facebook/twitter/news station and get smacked with another steaming hot face-full of sexism.
 
This morning it was some scraggly-bearded, hobo-turd in a tweed jacket saying that women aren’t as ambitious as men. That we aren’t “driven”. The only way we’ll ever be happy is marrying and having children.
 
We aren’t driven. Women. All women. That includes me.
 
This pushes me over into angry feminist territory, because I have spent the last five years of my life FIGHTING to achieve my goals, to not give in to the sucking vortex of hopelessness and stress and shitty jobs, while I struggled to write more and write faster and write better. I have been rejected and rejected and rejected and broken down and picked myself up over and over because I WANT THIS SO BADLY.
 
Lately I’ve been killing myself to meet two deadlines that fell on the same date. My house is in shambles, I’m eating out of Tupperware, I’m on the computer until eleven at night. The other day I edited for seven straight hours.
 
I mean, I am literally working my butt off (yes, literally, I forget to eat occasionally and dropped three pounds over the last three weeks). I look like a wizard trying to dress like a muggle because at this point I’m just putting on whatever is left in my closet.
 
So don’t you dare tell me I’m not driven.
 
I just sent off both projects last night and realized my house looks like a bomb went off, and I am a disgusting, unwashed mess and most of all I realized, I AM FIERCELY HAPPY. I love what I’m doing. For once in my life I don’t stand around and wonder, What the hell am I doing here? I don’t have times where I’m watching Netflix or lying around on my phone thinking, I feel like I should be doing something. Those feelings are gone when I’m fulfilled, when I know I’m right where I should be, doing exactly what I’m meant to do.
 
So don’t tell me I’m not happy.
 

My husband also makes me fiercely happy, he’s an amazing guy (and he puts up with the human disaster that is me) and it’s not like I don’t want to have a kid someday, but to have some dirt-bag yammer on about how women simply aren’t driven after all of this…well, it’s enough to make a gal angry.

And I’m not the only driven writer I know. I know loads of them, all balancing work and family with their writing, squeezing in time to write between feeding everyone and cleaning the house and working a full time job. They do this because they’re driven. Because they have ambition and passion and they’re not going to give up regardless of how much rejection they face, or how difficult the battle becomes.

So basically I have one last thing to say, and it’s not professional or eloquent in any way, but it needs to be said so…

Screw you neck-beard, dude. Screw you.

And that’s about it.

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/87098609@N00/511361871″>White Panther</a> via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a> <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>(license)</a>

7 Comments

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7 Responses to Today I am an “Angry Feminist”

  1. I don’t ever plan to have children, so according to this straggly-bearded douche-turd, I’ll never be happy. That’s good to know. I’m so glad to know that, like you, I’m giving everything to my writing, but some misogynistic prick has decided that I can’t possibly be driven because I happened to be born without a dick, and I’ll never be happy unless I choose to breed.

    It’s revolting shit like this that highlights exactly how far the world has to go before anything close to true equality is achieved.

    • Yes exactly, it’s hard to believe that this guy exists and these are real opinions, but I guess there are all kinds of crazy. Unfortunately sometimes the crazy is broadcast on the news or someone publishes a book and gives it a platform….

  2. Yeah Erin, now I know that you are the feminist I hoped you’d be. Keep driving girl.
    Here’s another thing to get angry with:
    “There is no more sombre enemy of good art than the pram in the hall.”
    C. Connolly, Enemies of Promise 1938

    Happy Valentine’s Day to your fierce and angry he-art.

  3. Heather Lovatt

    How much energy do you use on being a feminist?

    MY answer? Too much. Why? Because you should NOT have to explain to ANYONE that you are a human being. (Gawd, did I just hear the echo of John Hurt as “Elephant Man” screaming that phrase? Hm. *looks at you*)

    I totally get what you’re saying–trust me, Erin, you don’t wanna KNOW how much I know what you are saying cos I’ve LIVED in this world a whole lot longer than you and _I_ was doing it without the help of any cheerleading section to back me up. I’ve been down some pretty dark holes…

    I always seemed to be in a room, citing the real truths of the situation and noticing the large space around me as I looked at the others or management or that asshole with the wiggle between his legs. *grin* And I was usually being poked towards the cliff, so just don’t start! *laugh*

    But understand something here, a male is nothing more than that so-called Dauntless character who wants your spot.

    HE WANTS YOUR SPOT, Erin. It’s not about your sex.

    Remember that. And he’s got a Bible Belt’s worth of backup to tell him he’s right.

    But see, we are all the same under god’s sun. Yes?

    Heather, gives you a shake.

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