Full Frontal Feminism: A Young Woman's Guide to Why Feminism Matters

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To Miss Magoo.

I don’t know why I didn’t call myself a feminist until I was in college. I certainly was one way before then. I think we all are.

I mean, really, what young girl
hasn’t
thought at some point that some sexist bullshit is completely unfair to women? The problem seems to be putting a name on that feeling. “Feminism” is just too scary and loaded a word for some women. Which is really too bad.

Because feminism is a pretty amazing thing.

When you’re a feminist, day-to-day life is better. You make better decisions. You have better sex. You understand the struggles you’re up against and how to best handle them.

I wrote
Full Frontal Feminism
because I spent a really long time feeling completely confused about why more young women wouldn’t embrace something that to me was clearly the greatest thing ever.

Feminism has become such an important part of my life; it’s changed me for the better and shaped who I am in tremendous ways. While I’ve always
known
I was a feminist, I didn’t get into it hardcore, or even call myself a feminist, until I was in college and took my first women’s studies class. My sister likes to tell me that I said (and I still somewhat refuse to believe that I ever said anything this cheesy) that the class “opened my eyes.” But I guess it really did. Without that awakening, I never would have gone to grad school, worked for women’s organizations, or started my blog, Feministing .com. I needed that one little push that let me know what feminism was
really
all about.

Then I realized that young women don’t have enough outlets teaching them and showing them how great feminism is. Of course, there are women’s studies classes and books, and maybe some of us are lucky enough to have moms and friends who are self-professed and proud feminists. But the majority of young women only know the total-crap stereotypes. To most young women, feminism is ugly. It’s unpopular. It’s the anti-cool.

So when I thought about writing a book about feminism, I thought the most important thing I could do was dispel the myth that feminism is anything but awesome.

Because young women—most of whom, unfortunately,
don’t
identify as feminists—don’t know what they’re missing. And if the idea of a stereotypical feminist doesn’t exactly inspire thoughts of some secret fab life you’re missing out on, I’m here to tell you—you
are
missing out.

I truly believe that feminism makes your life better. Imagine being able to get past all the nonsense that tells you you’re not good enough. To all of a sudden understand why you’ve ever felt not smart enough or not pretty enough. To finally be able to put your finger on that feeling you’ve always had that something is off. Believe me, to get to this place is amazing.

Full Frontal Feminism
is not an exhaustive review of all things feminist. There’s a lot of feminism out there—and you should check it all out. This book is just my take on it—my love letter to feminism and my invitation to my readers to embrace feminism for everything it gives to and does for women.

Most important, perhaps, was my desire to write something that explained not only why feminism is so necessary and relevant, but also why it’s so damn cool.

I’m hoping that as you read the book, all of this will become clearer. Maybe you’ll call yourself a feminist when you’re done. Maybe you won’t. But at the very least, my hope is that this book changes the way you think about feminism—and yourself.

What’s the worst possible thing you can call a woman? Don’t hold back, now.

You’re probably thinking of words like slut, whore, bitch, cunt (I told you not to hold back!), skank.

Okay, now, what are the worst things you can call a guy? Fag, girl, bitch, pussy. I’ve even heard the term “mangina.”

Notice anything? The worst thing you can call a girl is a girl. The worst thing you can call a guy is a girl. Being a woman is the ultimate insult. Now tell me that’s not royally fucked up. Recognizing the screwed nature of this little exercise doesn’t necessarily make you a feminist. But it should. Most young women know that something is off. And even if we know that some things are sexist, we’re certainly not ready to say we’re feminists. It’s high time we
get past the “I’m not a feminist, but...” stuff. You know what I’m talking about: “I’m not a feminist or anything, but it is total bullshit that Wal-Mart won’t fill my birth control prescription.”

Do you think it’s fair that a guy will make more money doing the same job as you? Does it piss you off and scare you when you find out about your friends getting raped? Do you ever feel like shit about your body? Do you ever feel like something is wrong with you because you don’t fit into this bizarre ideal of what girls are supposed to be like?

Well, my friend, I hate to break it to you, but you’re a hardcore feminist. I swear.

For some reason, feminism is seen as super anti: anti-men, anti-sex, anti-sexism, anti-everything. And while some of those antis aren’t bad things, it’s not exactly exciting to get involved in something that’s seen as so consistently negative.

The good news is, feminism isn’t all about antis. It’s progressive and—as cheesy as this sounds—it’s about making your life better. As different as we all are, there’s one thing most young women have in common: We’re all brought up to feel like there’s something wrong with us. We’re too fat. We’re dumb. We’re too smart. We’re not ladylike enough—
stop cursing, chewing with your mouth open, speaking your mind
. We’re too slutty. We’re not slutty enough.

Fuck that.

You’re not too fat. You’re not too loud. You’re not too smart. You’re not unladylike.
There is nothing wrong with you.

I know it sounds simple, but it took me a hell of a long time to understand this. And once I did, damn, did it feel good. Why go through your life believing you’re not good enough and that you have to change?

Feminism not only allows you to see through the bullshit that would make you think there’s something wrong with you, but also offers ways to make you feel good about yourself and to have self-respect without utilizing any mom-popular sayings, like “Keep your legs together,” or boy-popular screamings, like “Show me your tits!”

Really, imagine how nice it would be to realize that all the stuff you’ve been taught that makes you feel crappy just isn’t true. It’s like self-help times one hundred.

But all that said, I really do understand the hesitancy surrounding the f-word. My own experience with the exercise that kicked off this chapter—“What’s the worst possible thing you can call a woman?”—was presented by a professor on the first day of a women’s literature class after she asked how many of us were feminists. Not one person raised a hand. Not even me. My excuse-ridden thinking was,
Oh, there’s so many kinds of feminism, how can I say I know what they’re all about? Blah, blah, blah, I’m a humanist, blah, blah, blah
. Bullshit. When I think back on it, I knew I was a feminist. I was just too damn freaked out to be the only one raising her hand.