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I became a feminist without realising...

At the ripe old age of 27 I feel comfortable saying that I am a feminist. 10 years ago I would have argued that I was not a feminist, I wouldn’t have argued very convincingly because at that age I was without a shadow of a doubt a bit of an idiot. I was listening to Lesley Gore on repeat and becoming irrationally irritated by my friends and their obsessions with boys but I was confused by the semantics of ‘feminism’. I suppose because some believed we were in a post-feminist world where the ‘major issues’ challenged by feminism were, in a way won, I saw little credence in understanding what feminism really meant. We have the vote, rape was recognised as a crisis rather than an inconvenient truth and women were finding professional success in areas like sport and business. #Whoops.

I spent a fair amount of time as a teenager in a struggle between understanding my ideals as a young woman and making myself small enough to dodge the feminist label, women much smarter than me, were trying to pin to my chest. How I wish I could go back now and say to my younger self; “You bloody fool! You are a feminist through and through and btw that’s totally cool.” I might have found my ‘thing’ a lot earlier and I might have avoided a very dark and uncomfortable period of hate filled self-bullying because I would have found, much like Anne of Green Gables always seemed to do, a kindred spirit in the strong self proclaimed feminist of the past.

It is important to me that feminism has become fashionable. I am no purist in this respect and I am delighted to...

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