Until I was about eighteen old, I thought feminism was a dirty word. I liked wearing make-up and high-heels, and I wanted to have babies–lots of them. No, I definitely wasn’t a feminist.
Feminists, I thought, had hairy armpits and crazy hair. They were perennially single and had high-profile careers and no children, and they spoke of men (and to men) with an angry snarl.
Back then, if someone had asked me my thoughts on feminism, I’d quickly insist: “Oh no, I’m rather traditional, actually. I LOVE men.”
Looking back on that now, I cringe.~ read more ~