Confessions of a would-be feminist

I confess that I only joined the ranks of active feminists less than ten years ago. And that until then I'd never even set foot in an 8M demonstration. What's more, as a young woman, I disliked the most active feminist activists. I've always considered myself a feminist. I almost spontaneously combusted with indignation when my parents argued that household chores could be different depending on whether you were a man or a woman. But to be lumped together with the feminists who called for the manios of March 8th, so little mainstream (and now I know how necessary) of my youth, well, no. Time had to pass for me to understand that a defense mechanism had been activated in me, one that is triggered in many women, consciously or unconsciously: not wanting to be identified with the problems. With the badasAnd I fell for it too.

I confess that I am unaware of (or haven't yet read) so many women who have advanced feminism through their thought and essays. And in 2017 I published a book, Cactus heart and other ways of loving (Cruïlla/SM) and my editors and I decided that even though the content was feminist, we wouldn't use the word so as not to scare away readers. Two days later, #MeToo and #TellYourStory flooded social media, and suddenly the word "feminism" began to be seen differently. But the book had already been published... Although it's still alive, more than ever, because I dedicated myself to questioning this shitty romantic love. Ahem.

Becoming aware of privilege

I also admit that for a long time I've lived unconsciously, ignoring my privileges. And in doing so, I had to confront an obvious truth: I'm a woman, therefore, I always start with a minus fifty, but I'm also white. And I was born in Barcelona, ​​that is, in Europe, that is, in the Western world. And into a well-off family. The place I start from is not the same as that of so many women who have it much worse. And I know I can't speak for them. If I did, I would be making the same mistake as those men who think they know what women think better than we do. But I can demand their presence, listen to them, engage in dialogue with them to find out what I can do, what they need. And accept that the fight for equality is the same, but their path is different and steeper.

And finally, I confess that I'm convinced that coming to active feminism later doesn't make me a worse feminist. It's just that I have more to learn, and I owe it all to the women who were already there. Because feminist activism allows me to see life more clearly and, despite the current difficulties and the rise of the far right and conservatism, with more hope. I also like to think that my feminist activism is the logical consequence of my pacifist activism in my youth. Because the world cannot have peace without equal rights for women and men. And I will never be ashamed of that desire. On the contrary.