Protest Too Much

A few weeks back I told my good friend and office mate Evie that I had purchased a baby doll for my daughter for Christmas. She stopped typing, turned to me and said: "Doesn't buying your daughter a doll conflict with your feminist ideals?"

"But, it's a Cabbage Patch," I volleyed.


I first met Evie when I started work for the research center at the university. She was finishing up her PhD and was 6 weeks pregnant with her first child. She went into labor during her comprehensive exams (a killer, two-day-long test). She pushed through the pain and aced the exams. She delivered a healthy baby boy mere hours after. A few months later she sat in a room and defended her dissertation while her supportive husband held their baby out in the hallway. She defended with rave reviews from her committee, thanked them politely and went out into the hall to nurse her son.

This girl is tough shit.

And she's one of my closest friends.

Now.

But when I first met Evie, I had doubts we'd ever be close. For starters, she sits opposite of me on the political spectrum. She's a devout Christian. And she's proudly not a feminist.

This isn't to say that I only have friends who think like me; in fact, I prefer ones that don't. But Evie is the kind of person with such conviction that I wondered how we could ever talk about politics or religion or gender roles without clawing at each other, girl style. And on top of that, Evie and I are in a field that is extremely competitive. And, as women, we are naturally bred to view each other as rivals. At the time it seemed like too many obstacles to surmount.

But through the last four years working together (literally, our desks touch), she and I had little choice but to talk. And though the talking started light ("Can you pass me the stapler?"), it has ended in a place in which we often come to work, close our office door and cry to each other about the trials of motherhood or the difficulty in trying to publish our research. While I once thought it not possible, she and I have had numerous engaging and respectful conversations about politics and religion.

But despite all that, we still can't seem to make a breakthrough on the topic of feminism.

She calls me out on buying my child a doll. Which makes me wonder: do women think feminism and motherhood conflict? And does it? Does playing with dolls keep a girl from getting a degree and a challenging career? It didn't stop me. But then again, they were Cabbage Patches.

I wonder if Evie looks at feminism the way most women of my generation do: as a man-hating, bra-burning, hairy-legged frame of mind in which marriage and motherhood are degrading to the gender.

When I was in college, I met a guy who had the same last name as mine (though spelled differently). He jokingly suggested that we should get married so I wouldn't have to change my last name, to which I responded: "I'm not the marrying kind." Yes. I said this to a human male. Despite the fact that I am so the marrying kind.

Another time in college, in line at the cafeteria, a guy I didn't know offered to let me go in front of him by saying, "Ladies first!" When I politely refused, he rolled his eyes and said, "What are you, a feminist?" Well sure, but I didn't have to be such a bitch about it.

And what about my other ideals that seemingly conflict with feminist ideals? Like rabid support of freedom of press with publications like Playboy and Hustler. Or how I thought breastfeeding would be the most empowering thing I could do as a woman because men can't do it. And yet, when I gave it up, I couldn't help but think the pressure placed on women to breastfeed is extremely degrading. Or despite how truly fulfilling and rewarding I find motherhood, I already resent my other still-to-be-conceived children for making me plan my career around them.

Perhaps women of my generation reject feminism because it's so damn limiting. And somewhat confusing to follow.

If I playfully call a woman a "bitch," is this empowering or damaging? Is blaming my mood on my period counterproductive? Can I refuse to shave out of laziness rather than out of protest? Is happily supporting my husband's career growth naive?

I know of some women who make me understand why this generation rejects the term "feminist." One friend in particular called me out for going to a male dentist, saying that I should only use female doctors to help further empower women in the workforce. This completely caught me by surprise, because it not only interrupted a super cool root canal story, but it made me feel irritated by the zealousness.

Why do I support P!nk but scoff at Katy Perry? Why am I defensive about all of my daughter's headbands when they are so damn cute? And where do I land on the debate about strippers? Is that profession degrading or empowering? I suppose it depends on if they have dental.

Recently, a television critic for NPR called out Tina Fey for not keeping Liz Lemon, her semi-autobiographical character in 30 Rock, a strong feminist. Instead, the journalist claimed that Liz had become a stereotypical weak female in need of a father-figure's (Jack Donaghey/Alec Baldwin) approval.

Yes. Tina F**king Fey was being called out for not doing enough for her gender.

But Tina has done plenty for our gender by somewhat redefining feminism. Powerful, smart and above all, a sense of humor. Despite Tina's influential position, her exaggerated version of herself isn't flattering.  Liz is a smart, educated and witty woman who lacks any sense of style and is a mess at relationships.

This has bred a new crop of feminist icons like Mindy Kaling, the well behaved and highly educated daughter of immigrants who became one of the more successful women in comedy by endlessly making fun of her weight and constantly lamenting about her quest for a man to marry and impregnate her.

Or Lena Dunham. The wildly talented writer, director and star of her critically acclaimed movie Tiny Furniture, and her even more successful HBO series Girls, both of which follow her around a post-Sex-and-the-City NYC as she struggles with body image issues and begs for sexual and emotional attention from worthless losers.

Tina clearly isn't the sex-loathing, relationship idiot she plays as Liz; she's been married more than a decade and has two children. Mindy complains about her weight, and struggles with Hollywood's extreme standards, but was recently named one of People magazine's most beautiful people. And Lena's not the desperate unemployed singleton she portrays; she got a butt load of Emmy nominations and I read that she is dating the frontman of the band Fun. (Do I put two periods here?).

So what is feminism to a generation of women who didn't experience the feminist movement? Is it okay to talk about hating our bodies? Is it okay that while adult acne isn't our biggest concern, it's still a concern? Can we proudly be desperate for marriage and a baby? To look at Tina and Mindy and Lena, perhaps the new face of feminism is honesty. These women have an appreciation for the women before them who gave them the opportunity to have it all. And these women are honestly admitting that actually having it all is a f**king nightmare.

And Evie's the epitome of this argument. She absolutely has it all. A happy marriage, a nice home, two well-behaved boys, and a great career. She is very respected in her field; she's published, experienced and a damn fine professor. She can also sew beautiful quilts and can bake delicious brownies. She's a sharp dresser, a devoted wife and a fiercely loyal friend. And, most importantly, she does me the favor of honestly admitting how difficult it all can be. Tears and all.

So Evie can object all she wants. She can roll her eyes at me when I call myself a feminist. She can laugh off my concerns about pre-determined gender roles and the glass ceiling. And she can tell me over and over and over again that she's not a feminist.

But she's the biggest feminist icon in my life.

And it's high time she stop protesting that.