Why I am Writing about Feminism

Feminism was another F-word to me growing up. The word created visions of bra-burning and overall hatred towards men in my mind, and often made me angry.

Thank God I was wrong.

Growing up, I was surrounded by good men. People who were chivalrous and kind helped shape me into the woman that I am today.

However, the lack of exposure caused by living in a homogeneous Midwestern town led me to believe several myths. These myths, as well as experiences I have gone through, witnessed and heard, inspired my book.

Women should not be strong. As a high school athlete, I would spend many days in the weight room and on the court. I would lift in order to be harder, better, faster, and stronger. I would thrive with the instant gratification that I could press over three times my body weight with my legs. I could squat as much as many of my guy-friends.

But, I still was told that I needed to lose weight. These messages were not always out of the mouth of others, but some were directly to my face.

Some were from doctors who didn't measure my body fat percentage (which was definitely on the low side) but would mention my BMI putting me in the "overweight" range. When I was 14, one particular doctor didn't even say anything but left a note discussing the importance of a healthy lifestyle. As if my participation in two varsity sports, show choir, and club volleyball wasn't enough. I didn't "look" the part.

Some messages were from the dressing room at my favorite stores that told me I was “medium” or average. Some would even go as far as saying that I wore a size four times larger than the one I walked in the store wearing.

In college, I wanted to use lifting and exercise to battle my anxiety and depression. This led to me eating less than 400 calories a day, and still getting grief from those around me.

Keep that shirt, because it might fit you later.

Don’t lift too much; you will look like a man.

I am so glad that you are not a “twig bitch.”

Oh my god, are you really going to eat that?

Messages everywhere that overlooked every aspect of my life because I could not squeeze into the mold that society has taught girls all around the world to fit.

Women need to be strong. Hell, we are inherently strong.

And while it is nice to have people open the door for us, it should not come from a place of superiority but of respect. So say “Thank you” and move on.

Women are meant to be mothers and wives. I was raised by two of my favorite people on the planet. A couple who have been together since they were in middle school, and still seem truly enamored in one another’s company.

While they worked hard to tell me that love happens and cannot be forced, I still tried. I tried really hard.

I had this weird idea growing up that everything that happened to my mom at a certain age would happen to me at that respective age. Odd, but it truly haunted me.

So, in middle school, I forced relationships. In high school, I chased relationships. In college, I loathed relationships.

I finally got to a point after a horrific breakup that I gave myself the attention I so desperately gave the “men” I dated. I lived alone. I went to dinner alone. I went to movies alone. I traveled alone.

And I freaking loved it.

I was the best date I ever had.

I loved it so much that when my person came into my life, I was a bit sad. What about my independence? What about my freedom?

Thankfully, the right person will not take any of that away. They will respect it and encourage you to have your life away from the relationship. Your identity is more than your marital status. It is more than the number of children you have. It is more than the function of your womb.

Women should be approachable. Growing up, my mom and I would have the same tiff each morning on the way to school.

Kenzie, please stop scowling. You look so angry.

Believe it or not, I have been a victim of resting bitch face since I was in elementary school. This unintentional expression made my mom so uncomfortable. It made her feel like she would be judged if someone saw my face. As if having Wednesday Addams for a daughter would not make her even more of a badass.

It could be because my mom has a resting nice face and might be the bubbliest person on the planet.

It led me to think about how she treated my brother. Did my parents ever tell my brother to smile more? Did anyone ever ask what was wrong with him if he did not have a grin plastered on his face?

Not even once.

It's not like they didn't want him to be happy, but there is this weird double standard that women must constantly express their mood or feelings.

The crazy part of all of this though is that women have been treated like they are asking for the approval of those around them constantly. Like we should care what people think.

When was the last time you heard a man be on the receiving end of a compliment?

When did you last witness a man compliment another man?

But, when have you looked at a woman and judged her on her appearance? When did you think that she should be smiling, or that she looks bitchy?

This is not to say that women should not be cheered up, or that people should not be complimented. In fact, we all should be in pursuit of being a beacon of light in every room we enter. Leave people happier than the moment they met you.

However, do not approach a woman and tell her to smile. And definitely do not tell someone that their beauty is dependent on the expression on their face.

Women who are frank are bitches. Oh, the dreaded b-word. It is tossed around like litter so often in society.

I remember getting into a bit of a fight with my boyfriend when we first started dating. He was constantly asking for me to rub his neck or scratch his back or do something for him. I thought it was rude.

I realized it was because I felt like I needed to not be a bother to people. Like me merely existing with some sort of request would put a ruin someone's day. How is that even possible?

Newsflash: Asking for help, a hug, or a hand is not rude.

You are not a burden if you need something.

You are not a bitch if you ask for revisions.

You are not a hag if you want a task done a certain way.

You know how some men who did these things would be described? Detail-oriented, driven, and a director.