People who have known me for a while can attest to the significant changes in my perspective over the years. Embracing growth is, in my opinion, essential to being a well-adjusted adult. Things started shifting for me even before I welcomed my third child—a daughter.
Back in the day, I didn’t see myself as a feminist. I held the misconception that feminists were just women who stirred the pot by burning bras and saying things like “don’t open that door for me.” I believed they were just a bunch of angry ladies out to bash men. The truth is, I enjoy having doors opened for me, I appreciate my bras, and I like men. I love being a woman.
Here’s a little secret: There was a time when I confidently told my friends that I didn’t believe a woman could ever lead the United States. I know, I know—I cringe just recalling it. “Men are better suited for that,” I actually said. What was I thinking? Thankfully, I had some wonderfully patient friends who didn’t abandon me when I made those ridiculous statements. They taught me that being a feminist doesn’t mean rejecting femininity or the desire for respect. It’s about celebrating who we are and believing in the potential of women.
Feminists, like me, choose different paths: some leave corporate jobs to nurture their families, while others opt for adventures like sailing the high seas without a thought of marriage or kids. Feminism is all about making choices because women have the right to determine their destinies.
Realizing I’m a feminist is just the beginning; I also have the privilege of raising three kids to understand and value the strength of women. It’s a challenge I embrace wholeheartedly. Instilling bravery and confidence in my daughter has been one of my greatest joys. Watching her stand up for herself instead of retreating in fear fills my heart with pure happiness.
Recently, we took the kids trick-or-treating in a friend’s neighborhood. My daughter, Emma, approached a little boy dressed as a police officer who was driving a ridiculously oversized battery-powered cop car. She tugged on the door and announced, “I want a ride.”
All the adults cooed, “Aww, look at the adorable ladybug wanting a ride!” Emma climbed in, turned to the boy, and firmly stated, “You’re in my seat.”
He looked confused, but she repeated, louder this time, “You’re in my seat.” What followed was a hilarious stare-down. The boy’s parents were clearly unnerved as their son was being bossed by a girl. After a moment, he reluctantly relinquished the driver’s seat. Emma hopped in, took the wheel, and sped off. In that moment, I couldn’t have been prouder.
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To sum it all up, my journey from skepticism about feminism to embracing it—and teaching my children the importance of female empowerment—has been transformative. I’m proud to raise a daughter who knows her worth and stands her ground.