Feminism: In Solidarity and in the Trenches…

I first identified as a feminist in college.

I silently identified as such after I read The Caged Virgin: An Emancipation Proclamation for Women and Islam by Ayaan Hirsi Ali. I was affected by her pain, and deeply bothered by the impact of religion and culture. I, however, also fell in love with her resolve. She knew what she wanted and she stood, fell and got up again and again for it.

But, the foundation that shaped my identification with feminism was laid before college, before I read Ali’s book and before I truly saw the world. My identification was influenced by two different, but adjacent and maybe contrasting experiences.

My father is the first stone that laid this foundation. I should stop here to share that my dad does not and may not identify as feminist. The older I get, the more and more I see his flaws. He, like many men in his generation and especially in the culture he grew up in, have a lot to unlearn. However, my dad is a compassionate man, and that compassion showed up in how he moved as a husband and father in our household. He is the primary and foundational influence on my thoughts on gender roles and what I want, expect, and hope to build in my home when marriage and children enter the picture.