Thanks Jessie Anne for this contribution.
Content warning: involves discussion of eating disorders.
I have the pleasure of knowing many amazing
feminists; feminists working for social and climate justice, feminists working
against racism, transphobia, homophobia. I know feminists who are working in
their own way to make their own workplace or industry less patriarchal and
misogynistic. Feminists raising kids to
be kick ass feminist warriors. They remind me what strength looks like. They
ground me with something healthy to aspire to and be inspired by.
Lately I’ve been thinking about the
internalized patriarchy that these women quietly carry around with them every
day. The baggage I don’t know they have
which I haven’t had a chance to help carry. I’ve been thinking about how many
of us have similar experiences, and if there are things we can do as a movement
to help ease that load.
Being a feminist is kind of a tough gig
sometimes, and, at least for me, it has meant some pretty high self-imposed
expectations that I added to my already hefty list of unobtainable goals;
complete with accompanied guilt.
My particular clusterfuck of internalized
patriarchal baggage I’m focusing on here is my experience with eating
disorders. It’s long and complicated, and not really a story I have time for
here. Although I no longer define myself as someone with an eating disorder, in
some ways it continues, though less acutely. I think anyone who has experienced
an eating disorder know that the lines between ‘recovered’ and not can be blurry
at best. It started with dieting when I
was 8, and has at different times involved vomiting multiple times a day for
months and years on end; otherwise named Bulimia; the awkward unpopular kid in
the class of eating disorders. It has meant a lot of things between that too.
It has meant secrecy, and shame, and often most
overwhelmingly, utter mental exhaustion. Sometimes it was so consuming that I
had little room for anything else. Sometimes it was less about what was actually going into my body, and
more a hatred of my body that was so strong I barely left the house for days.
Feeling repulsion and disgust for the skin you live within can be very near
debilitating.
I am somewhat at peace with the journey around
these issues with myself and my body being a lifelong one. This realization has
led me to examine the pressure I have put on myself to be free of internalized
patriarchy.
I’m not going to wake up one morning to
find myself free from being triggered by comments or situations that make me feel
the need to make drastic and unhealthy changes to myself. But I think I now
know a place where I can calmly reject those thoughts before they take hold for
long; a place which I consider a victory and has taken years of hard work to
get to.
For many years I thought, sometimes
unconsciously, that I could only be a fully-fledged feminist and activist once
I got 100% over my eating disorder and my sometimes-general-self-hate.
Unfortunately, through my own
interpretation of what it means to be a feminist, I’ve spent years thinking
that I had to one day be a ‘fully formed feminist’ without hypocritical
thoughts and with a impenetrable shield that deflects all patriarchal nonsense
from piercing my external layer.
In some ways, I’ve labeled myself a feminist-in-waiting.
This may have, in part, contributed to my
silence around my eating disorder. Maybe if people knew about it, I thought,
almost subconsciously, my feminist membership card might be revoked, only to be
returned once I got the ‘total-self-love’ stamp. The unobtainable expectation
to be the internally perfect feminist has also led to feeling an added layer of
unnecessary guilt. Cause if there’s one thing women could do with a bit more
of, it’s guilt, right?
This expectation I set for myself for so long
was largely self-imposed and the expectations self-created. But I do wonder how
many other feminists out there find it difficult to talk about their own internalized patriarchal baggage. Looking
back at conversations and dialogue around issues like eating disorders that
I’ve observed or been a part of, I do think that there can be a sense of
‘otherness’ attached to them, which can leave you feeling like these things are
experienced outside of our feminist and activist communities. This otherness
doesn’t encourage inclusive and open dialogue when they might be experienced in
the here and now.
A feminist friend and I also recently
talked about the internalised patriarchy we carry into relationships with cis
males in our lives. We admitted to each other (this after years of chatting
about pretty much everything) how much we often are part of creating a
patriarchal power dynamic in these relationships. Once it got down to examples
it was kind of funny; and relieving! I wasn’t the only one, and she wasn’t
either!
It’s just another example of how the reality of
our lives as feminists is still affected by internalized patriarchy. Some of it
is pretty hard to admit, too. My friend and I were both left shocked at the
fact that we’d never been in a space where we
could acknowledge these behaviours with others. Are we the only ones?
A very quick glance around the interwebs
reveals many blogs and articles by feminists highlighting similar pressures;
the pressure to be a beacon of pure post-patriarchal light in the dark and the
silencing which comes with that invisible pressure.
Another friend helpfully pointed out, when
I raised this topic, that the pressure comes not only from within the movement
but from outside of it. Impossibly high
standards are made for us by patriarchy, and it seems by feminism too. But I
think these standards are contributed to by the market-friendly co-opted parts
of feminism which are at times hard to identify; the smiling and happy feminist
front; the ‘feminism for everyone’, buy your happy relatable feminist T-Shirt
here!
Maybe we could set up more spaces to discuss
what patriarchal baggage we all carry; maybe that would help share the load. A
lot of these issues, the internalized patriarchy shit we deal with in private, are sometimes subtle and unclear,
even to ourselves. But it’s important we talk about them, or at least talk
about whether and how we do. Because whether it’s a secret eating disorder or
recreating patriarchal power relations in our relationships, or whatever else,
these things can end up affecting not only ourselves, but those around us, and
our wider communities.
I’ve come to realize and accept that many
of us can carry the worst parts of what we are working to change within us, and
that those parts don’t necessarily fall away when we pick up the axe aimed at
patriarchy. The axe helped me cope with them; it even empowered me to
eventually move beyond my eating disorder, but there are parts of me that
remain affected. And that’s ok.
So what I would say to the 17 year old me,
and any other young girl feeling so enraged and empowered by this new knowledge
of feminism to put to her experience is this:
Being a feminist is a journey. It’s different
for everyone. You don’t live in a silo that separates you from the influences
of patriarchy. The parts of yourself that will be, at least in part, shaped and
defined by patriarchy will come in different forms and
will be different for everyone. But you can positively contribute to the
dismantling of patriarchy even while having terrible feelings created BY
patriarchy.
Patriarchy is fucked, but no matter how it
fucks you up, don’t let it also take away your claim to being part of the
movement to dismantle it.
3 comments:
Wow this post is awesome and really resonates with me. Thanks for sharing your thoughts.
Wonderful post - thanks Jessie Ann
I needed this today. The constant internal conflict between the feminist self and the self I find in the world who is flawed in ways that the feminist self believes to be politically unjust.
Thank-you so much, Rachael
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