"I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat or a prostitute." - Rebecca West
Whenever my mom asks me to set the table, I can't help but glance at my father and my brothers, who are sitting comfortably on the sofa, watching television. I force myself to suppress the fervent feminist inside me. A large part of me is tempted to face my mother with my feet firmly planted on the kitchen floor and to offer her a historical overview of the women's rights movement, explaining that a woman's place is not in the home and that such prejudice only dumps gasoline on our patriarchal society. However, I remain quiet and proceed to comply, knowing that my efforts to replace the cultural beliefs she has embraced for so long will be futile; my mother's reaction to my outburst will merely constitute a quizzical glance and nothing more.
And yet so many times, I have tried. I have asked, "why do you only ask me, and not Antherus or Peter?" The answer has always been the same: my mother's lengthy, drawn-out lecture about the necessary gender roles in society. Women are meant to do housework, just as they are meant to give birth. I refute her argument by saying that such expectations label women as a social group with the same dream and the same path to happiness, rather than as individuals. In the end, she gives up and sets the table herself out of frustration.
On my occasions, I have caught my mother on the phone with my grandmother, expressing her concern that I may not get married because of my feminist beliefs. They are taken aback by my outspoken, audacious nature because Korean culture defines a woman as passive and subservient. When I hear them talk about me, I can't help but laugh because I know some day, I will meet a man who will openly embrace my feminist beliefs and respect that I do not want to inherit his family name. And if I don't, big deal. This is the first year of high school that I have not had a boyfriend, and it has been the most enjoyable, so far. Despite my devotion to feminist theory, however, I'm not bitchy, or offended by friends who know I'm a feminist and crack misogynistic jokes to be funny, or by a man who holds the door for me. I don't think I'm any more or less than a man, my audacity isn't repelling, and I still want to get married. On my terms, my mother and grandmother have nothing to worry about.
When we label people with societal expectations, we add to the increasing dichotomy between social groups. When we use society's unwritten rules to differentiate one social group from another, we fuel the prejudice that leads to such atrocities like genocide. In each genocide, the first stage is the same: classification. We create a gap between "us" versus "them," using ethnicity, race, religion, or nationality to justify the gap. Now, I'm not saying that someone in the near future will wage war on women, but that all prejudice, despite whom it is against, is the same. We can't classify people according to standards that are culturally defined, as opposed to biologically. Although it is idealistic to believe that the world can achieve this some day, people's lives would be greatly improved if we simply recognized people as people. The roots of all society's problems lie in prejudice.
Got my heart broken. Broke someone's heart. Witnessed a miracle. Came to appreciate my family for its oddities. Tossed away the superficialities in my life. Found a best friend... then lost him. Got the first rejection letter (from anything) of my life. Realized that my best Saturdays end with me at Barnes & Noble curled up with a book. Got over high school and all the bullshit it stands for. Realized my true best friends. Was over and over again completely mesmerized, captivated, amazed by God.
In 2008, I... will stop talking to you.
And someday... I will stop loving who you used to be.
