I’M A FEMINIST, TOO.

I sit down to write after hours of procrastination, feeling a new fire blazing in my belly. I have been plagued all day by the looming Monday deadline I created for myself. I vowed to write and post an article on Feminism following the Women’s March I attended yesterday morning. My first ever women’s march marked a day I will forever remember as a newfound sense of togetherness embraced my being. I stood with glee and glistening cheeks sprinkled with tears of pain and joy, and felt proud to be a part of something so positive.

My procrastination was caused by something much deeper than sheer laziness. My procrastination was due to an avoidance of the thoughts that were shaking up in unwelcome residence within my brain. At long last, after the battle was exhausted, I scooped in and caught the thoughts racing through my mind, wizzing about in a frantic scurry. I grabbed those thoughts by the you-know-what, and I immediately put an end to their dreadful demise. What were those thoughts? Bullshit. A whole whack of bloody bullshit.

You know what they said? They said I was not smart enough, political enough, wise enough, or read enough to discuss Feminism. Who are you to write about such a charged subject, such an important category, such a serious topic? Who are you? Who am I? Fuck if I know, and fuck if I care. Where did these thoughts come from? In part, admittedly from my own sense of unworthiness, in part from the influence of society, in part from my family, and in part from a girl who told me that I should be careful how I represent myself if I did not back that representation in full.

I was politely ‘warned’ not to attend and represent the company that I have founded here if my company was in any way offensive, somehow imperfect, or politically incorrect in any manner. I could not fathom why myself, and my fellow creatures should be discouraged to stand by the message of love that we endorse here at CASSIDYALEXA, and spread the word of our mission.

I felt completely boggled by that discouragement. How do my sentiments not align with those of other feminists? My entire company is built around extracting and celebrating people’s uniquely beautiful gifts. It was also clearly insinuated that I was an ignorant white feminist and I was condescendingly advised to do some reading, as not to exclude or offend anyone.

Offend them by what, being me and singing my song? Isn’t that what we’re all trying to do here? Why is my stance any less valid than anyone else’s? As I always say; to offend is not to oppress. I’ve spent my life being oppressed and aiming not to offend, only to feel silenced and unwell, and that shit ain’t going down no more, I’ll tell ya that much.

So I wonder, why I am not allowed to talk? If I speak, need I ensure that I cover every nook and cranny of all of society? Is that even possible? Must I walk on eggshells for the rest of my life? How on earth can I express anything if I have to tip toe around my voice.

It is  simply impossible to create with such restrictions, and so I reject them entirely. I am not claiming to be some sort of perfect human, in fact I’m claiming just the contrary. I’m claiming to be a little freaky, a little flawed, a lot quirky, and completely, unapologetically me.

To me that is Feminism. It’s Humanism. It’s being my own self and not only tolerating, but relishing the person that you are, too.

These thoughts kept me away from the keyboard, away from the freedom to share my own experiences, and away from the confidence to put to words what Feminism means to me.

Thank God I am not that easy to shut up.

Emily Ratajkowski has spoken out of her experience as a young girl being preyed on by older men and then chastised for bringing it upon herself by not concealing her breasts or masking her figure with appropriate clothing. Emily has gone on record saying; ‘I don’t see men having to justify what they wear or how they express themselves.’ This is a valid argument, a retaliation to being blasted for being too hot to handle and shamed for her bomb ass bod. She has been under fire for snapping herself nude and semi-nude on social media, with claims that it makes her less of a Feminist. Wait, what? She is not a real feminist because real feminism means what? Being conservative, and modest? Sure, it can mean that too, but there is nothing wrong with celebrating your form. Why should Feminism mean we have to step out of our sexuality, and resign to religiously foreboding womanhood?

In a recent interview, Emily was quoted saying that ‘I think a lot of people really feel that the idea of a woman being sexual or being sexualized is the opposite of feminism,’ and that the criticism she faces is ‘anti-woman’, because she’s considered ‘too sexy’ for certain roles, and has lost jobs because her boobs are too big. ‘What’s wrong with boobs? They’re a beautiful, feminine thing that needs to be celebrated. Like, who cares? They are great big, they are great small. Why should that be an issue?’ Here, here, Emily.

Gloria Steinem was actively hated for being a beautiful braniac with political views and strong opinions. Gorgeous, brilliant, and strong? Blasphemy.

And then we have Lena Dunham being criticized for celebrating her body and owning her beauty because it does not fit the conventional guidelines put in place by a bunch of idiots who don’t know shit. One second she’s hated for being too fat, and when she loses weight for her health, she’s condemned for that too.

So, we’re either too hot, or too heinous to handle. Lose, lose situation folks, lose, lose.

These women make people uncomfortable. They cause those people to squirm with the unresolved sludge that they refuse to face, in turn barfing onto the rest of us. Disguised in a subtle sheet of shame, cloaked in an invisible layer of a hot sticky substance known as oppression, which leads us to repression, and the cycle continues. Our bodies are ours, we have every right to do what we like with them, and I emplore you to exercise that right, given of course that you do not cause harm with said body to yourselves or others.

I have been told to cover up more times than I can count by my family, men, and women. I have been slut shamed, thrown up on websites who’s soul purpose was to degrade and lash out, a hate platform veiled as free speech. I have even been put down for wearing too much lipstick, too short a skirt, too sheer a top. I have been rejected by casting directors who claimed that my lips were ‘too much.’ I have been sexually harassed on set. The list goes on, and right now is not the time to get into all of that.

The one person who has always helped me celebrate my body is ironically the person who has dealt with the most hideous abuse of her own body; my mother. She has always taught me to be comfortable in my own skin, not to be ashamed of myself in any way. Although she might not love seeing her daughter’s semi nude body photographed all over the internet it has remained clear that it is my body, my choice, and I am not to be afraid to use those rights however I like.

Yesterday I discovered that, along with my keen fever to be actively involved in making our universe all the more grand, I am really quite political. Either passively or actively, we are all fundamentally political. We are all making a statement, even if we think we aren’t making one at all. Though at times subconsciously, art is always political. Okay maybe not the Bed and Bath art, but that’s not my kind of art anyways. I want to feel, and I want to be pushed off the edge of a cliff by the art that I consume. I want to be polarized by Art. That’s the only way I’ll have it, and those standards aren’t waning. So, I’ll take my politics with a side of art, and my art with a side of politics. I will continue to pursue them both because they really are one in the same. I’m here for the world. I’m here to make a difference, to leave an impact, to be of service. I am in it for humanity, and I’m in it for the love. Ultimately, with passion, I belong with mercy and surrender to the wonders of the world.

go to www.canadians.org to find out what you can do to raise your voice, and get involved.

written by cassidy, photographs by cassidy, rachel, or by source linked to the image.