I always thought I was a bad feminist.
I love wearing thong underwear. I don’t mind shaving my armpits. I admit to throwing like a girl. I don’t get all that angry about the injustices done to women on a daily basis–mainly because I don’t think about them.
I was aware that the whole concept of Tinder–that men would judge me and within 2 seconds, or sometimes even 1, decide whether they want to get to know me based solely on my looks–wasn’t doing feminism any favors. Still, I wasn’t offended by it. After all, it worked both ways, right? I also “got” to judge men based only on their appearance (and in many cases, without even knowing their height or smoker status–the latter of which can be an absolute deal-breaker for me).
But then yesterday, as I was leaving the weight room I have to pass through to get upstairs to the pathetic little track at the rec center that I’ve been relegated to thanks to the never-ending winter, I heard a man say, “Ma’am.” Read the rest of this entry »