I’ve been joking these last few years that I’m a
convenient feminist. I’m a proponent equality and women’s rights, but I
still make men lift heavy objects, get things off top shelves and kill spiders.
In my younger days, I was more militant feminist
than I am now. I think at some point, my dad was probably worried
I’d be on the news burning bras. I wouldn’t do that, of
course. Good bras are expensive.
I remember coming home to visit my parents on
the weekends. I’d have a bag for my clothes, a laptop, and
extraneous items in the trunk of my car. My dad would come out the
front door, “Do you need any help?” and for the longest time, I’d say
“no”. I could do it myself. I’d load up 2-3 bags and
trudge them on in. It was hard, but I was a strong independent
woman. I didn’t need help.
Fast-forward a few years to one random
weekend. My dad came to the door as always and made the same
offer. For some reason, this time, I stopped before I did my typical
response. Why not let him help? There may come a time
when he won’t be able to help, so why deny him the opportunity now?
Helping me do “heavy lifting” was one of the
ways he expressed his love for me. I let him carry some of my bags in,
and tried to never say no to his offer for help again. This was one of
the philosophical turning points in my life.
What was lost on me in my younger years
(and I’m now really starting to figure out) is I can’t be so focused on being
independent that I deny others the opportunity to be a part of my life. I
don’t have to expend so much energy trying to prove anything. I have
nothing to prove (and isn't that the whole point of feminism?).
I lost my dad almost three years ago to
cancer. I’d give anything to have him walk out the door and
would gladly let him carry all the bags he wanted.
