I’m not one for labels, but being a feminist, like a fine chocolate bar, is just one of those things you can’t mess with. It is a label. One that should be worn like a double C clasp, with pride. I’m not going to give you a rambling “how-to” of sorts but rather a chart because who doesn’t love one of those in the middle of the summer?
Your very own chart on #howtospotafeminist
– Walks with a confident swagger in her step
– Is the beholder of a gift (no, not that “gift”), a bright, shining, outspoken brain. You may be thinking, brain? Huh? But yes, brains control our speech and how we formulate what we say. Much to some guys dismay, our plump pout is not the only becoming thing a woman has to offer.
– She wears what she wants, kisses who she wants, and goes wherever she wants. This is giving me déjà vu to a few years back at Bergdorf’s annual 75% off sale. There was a long wrack of beige pants with orange panels. I turned to my mother and asked why such a unique pair of pants were sitting there untouched. She responded, “No woman would ever have the guts to wear them.”
– She may or may not have long, dyed in the front hair, aviator glasses, be as thin as a rail with a mind that can use words as weapons, but hey, that’s just me. Bonus points for anyone who can figure who this is.
– someone who loves their mother, wife, grandmother, aunt, daughter, niece, female co-workers, and has a deep respect for any woman who has graced their life.
– He honors her, values her opinions, and supports her in every way possible.
– when you think about it (if guys are your Jam), a feminist guy is your McDreamy
TO ALL THE MEN OUT THERE READING, GROW A VAGINA AND CALL YOURSELF A FEMINIST.
so there you have it, your own personal handbook on #howtospotafeminist