Welcome to Feminism. If you leave your dresses and heels, your grace, your gentle heart and your long hair at the door, Skrillex there *points to military booted, gnarly looking woman* will follow you in.
Okay, okay … Maybe not entirely. 😉
Very recently I was given a shout out at naughtynovellas.wordpress.com (and thank you for it! Made me blush and giggle like a little girl, just before stepping into the shower at the crack of dawn – not a bad way to start the day), where she wrote ‘But BEWARE – she is not a feminist!’ about me. And so very true. I’m not. It got me thinking, though.
Being antifeminist is not about being a doormat. It’s not about taking shit from a man, just because he has a c*ck. I’d never stay in a relationship with someone who treated me like his servant or his dog. And I do want the same constitutional rights as a man ( /sarcastic tone start/ ‘Really?’ /sarcastic tone end/ – Really! 😉 ), but I’ll never whine ‘I want the same pay as my male colleague!’ – because the male colleague who gets it, had the balls to -ask- for it. I’ll thank every single time a man holds the door for me, every time a stranger offers to lift my suitcase. Men and women are built differently. We’re good at different things. There’ll never be total equality, and thank God for that.
Thankfully, not all feminists are harsh, angry women. Just as not all antifeminist are Al Bundy-wannabe’s. What am I then?
I’m … *looks at the screen for a while* … I’m soft. And more soft and gentle by the month. I’m proud. I’m quick witted. I make my own destiny, I make my own success. A careerwoman. I don’t stand in my man’s shadow. I’m not forced on my knees before him. But I will kneel -happily-, willingly, for my man.
Just as I want to spoil my man, cook for him, wash his clothes, kiss him, f*ck him senseless and make sure he never has to leave my door with wet eyes (not as in crying, but as in being sexually depraved), just as I’m gonna be proud of standing by my man’s side, I want him to be proud of me. I want him to want to spoil me (Did you catch the difference? I dont ‘want him to spoil me’. I want him to -want- to spoil me. I’m never gonna be the woman who nags to get flowers.) It’s not a one-way street. I give and take, just as I’d expect him to do.
What I want, is a man who’s confident and strong. Someone who’s gonna lead me. Both literally and metaphorically. Outta bed and in. I want someone who will place his hand at the small of my back, and lead me across the restaurant, confidently. With an air of authority. I want someone who stand’s his ground. Malechauvanists has nothing to do with this Alpha I want. The type who, just because he’s an asshole, would never apologise if he had clearly wronged me, I wouldn’t give the light of day. But I do –not- want the type of man who’s so endlessly common – the man who apologises to his woman, just to end the discussion. Not knowing what he did wrong, and ending up just wagging his tail and laying down flat. God, how I don’t want one of those. No, I want a –man-.
It’s weird, my mom and I expressed it long before I ever found the Manosphere. Maybe 10 yrs back. We were talking about men and the type we both like, and I said ‘It’s so undefinable, isn’t it? I want a man who has that … ‘ and I sort of made a low, guttural purr/growl. And she said ‘Yes! Exactly that!’ We also found out, and this is sort of eery, that we both have a thing with ties. We never talked about it, but we both tug at men’s ties where there’s chemistry. For instance when saying ‘thank you’ after a dance, I’d gently tug at his tie while smiling at him and walking off. Or while flirting and standing closely, I’d tug at the end while saying ‘Really?/Yeah?’ and while still smiling – I smile a lot in general, in all honesty. It’s hard to describe, but I just can’t keep my hands off a tie, that’s sitting on the neck of a man I have chemistry with.
The point though, was that being antifeminist in my country is not about being a victim or Amish or bowing down. I’m a bitch sometimes – much more rarely now than a few years back though, but especially when something is gnawing at me and I can’t work out how to deal with it, I get unreasonable. And that’s one of the reasons I don’t want a soft, cutesy man. I want someone who’s -more- stubborn than me. Someone I can lean on and who’s gonna be my rock and someone I can be soft as butter for, someone I can spoil rotten.
So if I can choose between feminist or antifeminist, I’m gonna choose the latter. But in all honesty? I’m just me.