Though, We Adore Men Individually

When hearing the word "feminist," there are many who think of a rabid wild women. Unshaven and free, tits in the wind (curse you, bra, for attempting to constrain this gypsy she-beast). A rejector of standard female stereotypes. Hater of pink, florals, and the vile enemy that is man. 

That is definitely one version of "feminist" - probably one who was driven so far into the kitchen that when she finally got out, she sprinted into the sunset and cast off the shackles of yesterday and flung them off as far as possible. But obviously, there are many shades of that beautiful rainbow. The baseline that I've seen running as the pulse of feminism is simply this: freedom of choice and equal access/treatment, regardless of gender. That can mean a lot of things to different people, but in the purest form, in my opinion, it means:

• Being able to chose to have children and be a stay at home mom, or to never have kids at all. Or to adopt. Or to be a foster parent. Or to have children but send them to daycare to work. Having the right to be pro-life and never ever consider abortion for yourself, but also not stopping others who may need to chose that option from having access to proper medical procedures. Your body, your choice. 
• Freedom to love whoever you want, regardless of sexual orientation or gender. And to spend your time with them without persecution and harassment. 
• To be whoever you want - whether that means donning every pink girlie-girl outfit you can get your hands on, or rockin' the pantsuit. To be a strong, independent woman, or one who leans a little more heavily on their support system to keep afloat (we don't all have to be rocks or rolling stones, some of us are just trees who need roots).
• Having access to the same opportunities as anyone else, whether it be for housing, employment, access to education, travel, etc. We should all be given fair and equal treatment under the law. 

I could give a thousand examples of what I think that freedom of choice looks like, but that wasn't really where I was going when this started.... So, let me loop back to the type of feminist that I am. Far from being the man-hater (although, I do get on my "smash the patriarchy" rants a bit more frequently lately), I am a huge proponent of strength through teamwork. Men and women have many complimentary strengths, and while I don't think a woman "needs" a man to get by, with the right partnership, both can be enhanced and can grow. 

So, every once and again, from atop the soapbox, one must give a shout out.

As Jake and Elwood said, "Stand by your man." Cause, after all, he's just a man.

For just shy of three years (holy moley), I've been happy to have a ridiculously supportive partner by my side. In the days surrounding the Women's March, he was astounding, and I wanted to share some examples of how he was extra encouraging* as I laced up my marchin' boots:

• First off, he almost came with to the March. He later decided it was important for me to have that time with my ladies, so opted out. But for even considered coming, and not questioning my going, I give him my kudos.
• A few days beforehand, he helped me buy snacks for the roadtrip to the March and my poster-making night (which he happily was onboard with me volunteering our apartment for). When the ladies came over to dive into our feminist agenda and take marker-to-paper to stick it to the man, he gave us our space, and offered to make popovers... from scratch.
• In the evenings pre-March, I spent hours consuming women's lib documentaries - reminding myself of the struggles women went through, and growing angrier over the issues that are still a problem, decades later. (Go watch She's Beautiful When She's Angry on Netflix if you haven't yet - it's fantastic.) Instead of running away, the beau engaged me in conversation about points from the documentary. We got into a good discussion about what sparked the movement in the '60s and '70s and how those decades saw a perfect coupling of so many factors that brought forth such a strong feminist wave. 
• The night before, after making the last minute decision (at 11 pm) to draw up a "Side B" on my perfectly designed poster, he stayed up, even though he had work early the next day. When, after twenty minutes of stenciling and markering, I decided to hold up my sign to check out my progress... I realized the marker had bled through (they hadn't on the other side, but for some reason they did this time). My perfect poster (Side A) was basically ruined. Cue me having a complete breakdown. All the tears and emotions. I had wrecked the one thing I had done perfect to contribute to the cause, my flawless lines, my beautiful creation. Mere hours before getting ready to leave. I basically felt like I'd failed all of womankind.
  As I frantically dug through every drawer, basket, and craft box, scouring the apartment for white paints, markers, crayons, anything to fix my error, the beau took to the street. He ran to the store and bought pretty much every type of white-out they had. Upon return, he saw a much calmer version of my grief-stricken self and offered the solution he'd bought (along with snacks), and then let me salvage the remainder of my pride and work alone, painstakingly brushing away my mistake with that itty-bitty white-out sponge. Attempting to restore the former glory.
• The morning of the March, a freshly burned mix CD was handed to me. He'd made us a playlist of powerhouse fem vocals (from his regular music collection) to listen to on the drive. (Track list available upon request lol) As he headed to do his work and I headed to do mine, I was grateful that he had my back. He kissed me goodbye and wished me luck. Told me not to get arrested... I neglected to mention that I had his phone number Sharpied on my stomach, just in case I needed it for my one phone call. (Lord knows this memory of mine couldn't be trusted in time of need.)
• Once I got back home, he listened to my full recap with rapt attention, asking questions and filling me in on the news coverage of the day. In the subsequent days we've had talks on subjects ranging from politics to abortion. Always the good conversationalist, he has been a great sounding board during all this. 

Overall, there have been a lot of brownie points earned over the course of the past few weeks by my dear fella. ((Meanwhile, back on the soapbox....)) Not to belittle his behavior in any way, but the fact that his actions and level of support for all my feminist excursions seem so exceptional, well, it speaks volumes about some of the weak-tit men I've grappled with previously. (Not all, but definitely some.) Women need to insist on a high level of respect and support (and proper discourse) with the people they chose for partners. It shouldn't be an exception, it should be an expectation. Because, as Zefron once said, we're all in this together. And when we're being kind and supportive human beings, who see one another as equal (beyond gender, race, religion, creed, etc.) - well, we all win.



*Sorry beau, the internet knows how swell you are now... and the internet never forgets!