The whole world, it seems, wants me to stop talking.
Why is it that my parents and friends, who often engage with me in discussions about feminist issues, sigh and roll their eyes when I tell them that I’ve joined my school’s feminist society?
Why is it that if I even mention the word ‘feminist’ to a boy they turn and run as far as they can because they think I’m trying to undermine them?
Why is it that, despite the near-synonymous meaning of the two different terms, people are more reluctant to associate themselves with the word ‘feminist’?
Today, I comfort. Tomorrow, I begin the fight for a better future.
Some claim that American democracy is dead, but it is a zombie. It’ll rise up again.
We can cry ‘we need to get more girls into science!’ as much as we like but getting girls in isn’t the problem; it’s keeping them in.
I am a girl. I am a girl and I deserve exactly the same treatment you get when your head, stomach or any other body part hurts. I am not PMSing if I’m cranky, nervous or tired. Joking about my weight, gain or loss of it, does not make you cool or funny, it just makes you a jackass.