Click: When We Knew We Were Feminists Book

Every single one of the 29 essays in this book held some nugget of truth that resonated with my own experiences. Each writer told of his or her personal journey coming to embrace feminism on his or her own terms. Some come from liberal backgrounds with card-carrying feminist parents; others were raised in conservative homes. There is a self-described third-world feminist as well as an out-and-proud LGBT activist. There are people from privileged backgrounds and those raised poor in the inner-city. One woman writes about her marriage to a war correspondent; another writes about the myriad voices that crowd her head while she's staring at her closet trying to decide what to wear for a night out. An African-American man tells of his feminist upbringing by a mother who would never call herself a feminist and an Asian-American women writes of her struggles to feel that she deserves her spot at a prestigious engineering school. Topics as varied as Kurt Cobain's death, hunting as a rite of passage, and the high school marching band make an appearance, too.

I loved that there wasn't a single definition of feminism to which they all were held. Jordan Berg Powers defines feminism as "the fundamental and, some would say, dangerous belief that women are, and should be treated as, equals" (41). Sophie Pollitt-Cohen says feminism is "more than just caring that women not be treated like dirt, or believing in basic, vague concepts of equality. It's taking it upon yourself to be aware of what you are involved in and what is going on around you" (122). Marni Grossman expands the definition further: "Feminism is not about perfection. It's about the power of speaking one's truth" (72). I love Winter Miller's description that "I'm saying anything you can do, I can do, too. Not better, but just as well. Better than some, worse than others but not based on qualities rooted in gender or sex" (102).

They also don't whitewash their experiences. They discuss the trauma of eating disorders, lack of self-esteem, rape, and abortion; the struggles of growing up with a learning disability or disadvantaged by crushing poverty. One of the essayists acknowledges that "historically feminism has struggled with incorporating perspectives of women (and men) of diverse classes, races, abilities, and experiences" (55). Several writers lament the younger generation of women who are so reluctant to adopt the label, while recognizing their own initial hesitance. But their tone was consistently universal, not trying to elevate any one group over another. Amy Richards states, "We all experience discrimination in different ways, certainly some more severely and less naively than others, but living in a world where anyone is oppressed hinders everyone" (140).

Each essay was thoughtful, intimate, and powerful. They were hilarious, moving, insightful and poignant. Several presented topics in a light I hadn't before considered or found the perfect words to encapsulate thoughts I hadn't yet managed to completely formulate. For example, Li Sydney Cornfeld states, "The best way to break a stigma is to out yourself." That should ring true to any of my LDS friends who, like me, have occasionally found themselves in a conversation with those not of our faith who hold many misconceptions about Mormons. The tone of the conversation shifts as soon as I address the inaccuracies by saying, "Well, I'm a Mormon. We believe in Christ, have dances at our church buildings all the time, and my husband only has one wife." The stigma of "Mormon" starts to fade at least for that person as they discover that what they've "known" about Mormons doesn't match the reality of the person standing in front of them.

That's not to say that I agree with everything that was written in this book. But I deeply appreciate that inclusiveness is a recurring theme; we don't have to agree on every issue to be part of the same community. Anitra Cottledge says, "For me, feminism has always been about choice. It's about being able to choose what to call yourself, what to wear, what issues to take up, what battles to fight. What kind of feminist - or womanist, or person - would I be if I didn't at least respect someone's choice to locate themselves within feminism in a way that feels comfortable for them?" (65).

One thing that struck me consistently was their insistence on embracing the difficulties and contradictions inherent in life and working through them. While life might be simpler or calmer (on the surface) if one chooses not to rock the boat, it takes a certain level of integrity and self-knowledge to fight against societal assumptions that not everyone perceives as being unequal or problematic. And over and over again, these people describe doing just that. "The good thing about telling the truth," claims Karen Pittelman, "not the problem, as I'd once thought - is that then we have to do something about it" (119). That's the best definition of integrity I've ever read.

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