It’s been, oh, six months or so now that I’ve finally embraced feminism as another “ism” that I can ascribe to. My conservative friends react to this with awkward unease, and my liberal friends with a sort of smirk, as if to say, “See, I knew you’d come around eventually!” It was strange being a male feminist at first, like I was cross-dressing philosophies or something.
I had to read some feminist theology at PLU my freshman year, and trust me, the way to become a feminist is definitely NOT by reading crazies like Mary Daly. The best way to become a feminist is to meet for yourself a real live liberated woman. The power of the liberated feminine spirit is beautiful and true and every bit as competent as her masculine counterpart. Fellas, if you want to really light up your girlfriend, buy her The Feminine Mystique for her birthday. Well, maybe if you want to light up my girlfriend. But I’d rather you left the lighting to me. And besides, I already bought it for her.
Of course, the other best way to become a feminist is by reading Scripture and reading it well. But more on this later, as that’s another blog for another time. Tonight might be that time, but perhaps not.