Scarlett Curtis

No two people experience feminism in the same way, but each perspective is valid and important.

Feminism did not happen to me. Feminism was not one moment. Instead it has been the result of a series of events throughout my life, and the people who turned each of those events into a tiny informative experience.

My heart, on the other hand, soars at the mention of the dynamic princesses of fairy-tale dreams, their lofty ideas, hopeful hearts and glorious tresses. I agree with my mum, shrug off the notion of feminism for tonight and rewatch The Swan Princess for the second time this month. Tomorrow, I decide, I’ll dredge up Matilda, Jo March and Hermione Granger who I can cite as suitably studious, substantial literary feminist influences, all of whom I liked but didn’t idolize, unfortunately.

eenage years are permeated with the memory of the belief that books were for me and beauty was for others. Somewhere along the way I latched on to the idea that women of substance, politically conscious, world-changing women worth paying attention to, were above the frivolities of feminine indulgences.

I liked me, I knew me, I knew I didn’t have to be beautiful to be worthy and it was much more valuable and interesting to have thoughts, dreams and plans to heal the world. It was better to spend time developing one’s mind with Russian novels than with the latest reality star’s diet and lifestyle coffee-table book.

Does femininity impede feminism?

And this is when I realize that perhaps feminism isn’t about being morally pure or well-liked, and is more about doing the damn thing. Maybe it’s about being a woman in her truth, fighting for her cause, her dreams, her vision and doing it exactly as she sees fit.

‘You’re not depressed, you’re just complex’, he sighs.

AND THERE IT IS.

COMPLEX.

WOMEN ARE COMPLEX.

THAT’S ALL.

One day we’re the storm, loud and unmanageable. One day we’re the sun, radiating light in every direction. One day we’re air, breezing in and out invisibly. One day we’re fire, furious and passionate.

And we don’t need an app to tell us when our anger is justified. Or to shave off our hair to be true feminists. Or unanimous approval to prove we’re a trailblazer. Or damn underwear to declare us liberated. And we certainly don’t need to devise a new set of feminist rules and specifications that tell some women they qualify and others, ‘You can’t sit with us’

‘I dare you the courage to be all of who you are, all the time.’ It’s her class motto and a mantra and a challenge for the artist to be brave and open.

And to me it’s also what I hope feminism can do: give all of us the courage to be our full selves and know that all parts are OK.