A Declaration of My Feminism

I came to America a decade ago because I thought it was better to be a woman here than to be a woman in the Philippines. In some ways, it is. But I recognized quickly upon my arrival here that pink pussy hat feminism was not for me. It did not resonate with my experience, and there was no actual place for me in it, except as a token or a stick to prop up something I didn’t fully believe in.

This was long before there were actual pink pussy hats. And I’m not a token. I’m not a stick.

I must create my own feminism, I remember thinking.

Then I learned about and connected to other feminisms, and I realized, it’s already here. I’ve been here. We have been here. We are here.

Being a woman in this world fixes a grimness on the mouth that we are supposed to smile prettily through. That we are supposed to speak strong and caring words through to lift up and inspire, but only in the perfectly packaged way. There are many packages for us to perform beyond the traditional ones, mind you. A performance is a performance, no matter how liberated it looks. I’m tired of performing.

Like you, I arrived here on the grit and resilience of women that came before me. I arrived here on my own grit and resilience. Love, too. I have been hurt by women and I have been held by women. I too have hurt and held.

I wish better for us all.

I support genuine women’s liberation, not the patriarchy-in-woke-clothing, hyper-individualist, girlboss bullshit that passes for it these days.

I support the liberation of whole-ass, kick-ass, thicc-ass, thin-ass women that have been relegated to the margins for whatever reason, none of those reasons good.

I support the liberation of women who have gone to the edge of the night and back.

I support the liberation of women who are still there.

I support other visions of the world where it doesn’t have to be this way.

We don’t have to do this at the expense of each other.

Our voices matter. Our hearts matter.
Our safety and well-being matters.
Our ideas and creativity matter.
Our labor matters.
Our financial freedom matters.
Our leadership matters.
Our mere existence, which is by no means minor, matters.

May other feminisms continue to pour forth to the fore. And have a real say.

Happy International Women’s Day.