June 27, 2013

Kicking the Feminists Out of My Bedroom. ~ Shasta Townsend


I am no longer willing to believe I am betraying the sisterhood by having sex.

Good sex. With a man. That I enjoy. A lot.

I am still a feminist.

I grieve for the experience of women these past 2,000 years. I cry for millions who lost their lives because they are women and who still suffer today because of their sex. I resolutely agree that there has been (and is still) too much abuse, degradation and inequality.

I have experienced it as a woman, but have also seen it meted out toward men. I have deep respect and appreciation for women who exposed their own livelihoods, reputations and even lives so others like me may have the same freedoms as men—freedoms that I see as inherent rights for all life on this planet.

I have railed against patriarchy, plotted revenge and denied access to my heart and my bed. I have made penis jokes, compared asses, ridiculed men’s intelligence and wondered, at times, how they tied their shoes and for that I am ashamed.

I am, however, no longer ashamed of loving men. I am no longer willing to be at war with men. I am no longer willing to deny my sexual current, my sensual feminine and my own appreciation of men. I refuse to believe I am sleeping with the enemy.

I am no longer willing to feel ashamed of my desire, my attractiveness and my curves. I refuse to be conservative because that is what “classy girls” do. On the other hand, I refuse to be an abrasive bitch just to offend the patriarchy. I refuse to give up lipstick, lingerie or my bra because they are tools of misogyny. I need my bra. It not only helps keep my breasts in place but they look much better in it!

There was a time when I gave pause to my femininity.

I gave pause to my desire. I gave pause to my relationship. I gave pause to sex because I felt ashamed. I felt like I was letting the sisterhood down by screaming my lungs out in joy with a man. I felt wrong that sex did not feel wrong. I was afraid the Feminist Gestapo would find out I allowed the enemy within—literally. It almost cost me marriage and the man I love with my whole heart. It almost cost me my sweet essence as a woman. Is this what feminists really wanted for women?

I don’t believe so. So I got over it. I let myself be this powerful, sexy, feminine, desiring woman. I created a vision for my self, my relationship, my marriage, and my sexuality that felt good at all levels for me. I let go of dogma, slogans, literature and even pornography and let myself be a feminist in love with men, in love with love, in love with life—and I felt the sweetness of it all.

And now I have to go find my amazing husband. I think our bedroom is now free.


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Ed: B. Bemel

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