Hey, y’all! As many of you know, I am writing a book based on the first two seasons of Feminist Hotdog. I thought I’d get brave and start sharing some of my writing on the blog. I’d love your feedback!

Excerpt from Chapter 3: What Does it Mean to Lead a Feminist Life?

I recently had dinner with a good friend and her new boyfriend (who I like very much—whew! So awkward when they’re duds). He and I were getting to know each other, and we started talking about the podcast. By way of introduction, I gave him my usual elevator spiel (finding joy through feminism, yadda yadda), but I could tell he wasn’t 100 percent mapping on.

“So, what is it about?” he asked. “Explain it to a guy like me. I get feminism [here he pumped his fist in the air], but what do you talk about?”

I described some of the guests I had interviewed and told him how we talked about their work and the things they valued and appreciated and about living a feminist life.

And then he asked, “What does it mean to live a feminist life?”

The sincerity with which he posed that question really took me aback. Sitting in that restaurant, I had a small out-of-body experience while his words ricocheted around my brain like a pinball. I was thirty episodes into a podcast about feminism and had looked at this question indirectly from a million different angles but never actually asked it—or tried to answer it.

The more I thought about it, the more intrigued I became—by the question itself and by the million possible answers. There are so many ways to live a feminist life. And feminism is so personal and contextual. Women and gender-nonconforming people have been engaging in all kinds of subversive, norm-busting badassery forever, but they didn’t always call themselves feminists. That concept wouldn’t even have made sense to them depending on when and where they lived. Were they leading feminist lives?

For those of us reading, listening, and trying to figure out what the fuck is going on in the third decade of the 21st Century (you read that correctly) feminism carries all kinds of meaning—and baggage. Remember my (somewhat dubious) camp analogy from earlier in the book? I explained it that way to try and cut through the noise that often distorts dialogue about feminism and get clear on why I think the concept is valuable and necessary. But I also want to be clear that the “camp” I belong to doesn’t have firm property borders and a bunch of rules and a pink uniform and a special song you have to sing every morning.

We’re not always going to agree on who is a feminist or what feminists think or say or how they should act because there is no one feminist perspective on any issue. This bothers some people BUT IT’S REALLY OK. It would be weird if there was only one way to do feminism. In fact, it would completely undermine the whole concept.

But it’s not the total Wild West. Feminism, as I see it, does makes some basic assumptions:

1) People of all genders are equally valuable, should have equal access to rights and opportunities, and be free to live their lives unbothered. (It sounds so simple. *Sigh*)

2) Right now, real life isn’t working this way. See (non-exhaustive list in no particular order): domestic violence statistics; street harassment; relentless attempts to block access to birth control; women being arrested for having miscarriages; low numbers of women and GNC people holding leadership positions in just about every industry; the pink tax; rape kit backlogs; Gamergate; Harvey Weinstein; the U.S. Women’s Soccer team’s paychecks (and the gender wage gap in general); oh, and electing as president a man who brags about sexually assaulting women.

3) It’s worse if you’re not a cisgender white woman. See (same disclaimer as above): murder rates of black trans women; unsolved murders and disappearances of Indigenous women; lack of media coverage for black women killed by police; black maternal mortality rates; sexual assaults perpetrated against migrant women; welfare queen myths; even less representation in leadership roles; oh, and those wage gaps get way worse. These issues compound further if you have a disability, are an immigrant, are poor, are fat, or—in some parts of the country—are not a Christian.

4) Real life is not working as it should because we live within systems and institutions (schools, courts, banks, sports teams, entertainment, industrial complexes, governments at all levels) that were designed by—and to maintain the power of—white, cisgender, able-bodied, heterosexual males. (Not me theorizing. Entire well-established academic disciplines devoted to this. If institutional misogyny and white supremacy are news to you or you don’t believe they exist, I’m probably not going to convince you here. There are a bunch of resources at the end of the book: Take yourself to school. Or, like, read the U.S. Constitution? It’s all in there.)

5) We have all been raised up in these intertwined systems. So not only do we have to topple the dudes who are explicitly trying to keep us down, we have to confront the misogyny and white supremacy that lives within us all. See: The number of white women who contributed to the outcome of the 2016 election; fatphobia so ingrained that we spend billions a year trying to get to or stay in single-digit sizes; colorism; the double (triple? quadruple?) standard about who is supposed to have and enjoy sex; and the millions of other ways we subtly and not-so-subtly cram ourselves and our girl-identified children into roles and behaviors that keep us small, quiet, safe, and obedient, particularly if they are black or brown (and often out of necessity or self-preservation).

6) The vast majority of people (even many people who would deny it) would be a lot happier if real life worked as outlined in Number 1; we should work together to make that happen. (More on this one later in the book.)

Beyond these assumptions, there are a few intellectual, philosophical, and interrogative guideposts about how to do Number 6. These are what differentiate intersectional feminism—feminism focused on emancipation for all—from mainstream feminism, which assumes that changes in policy and culture that benefit white women are sufficient for everybody (ignoring assumption Number 3). Such guideposts might read: Trans Women Are Women, A Threat to Justice Anywhere Is a Threat to Justice Everywhere, or Who’s Profiting from This?

The guideposts are there to remind us not to wander off toward into the quicksand pit of ideas that make us comfortable because they don’t require resistance on our part (e.g., “Not all white women!”) and reinforce beliefs we know are questionable but would really rather not look at too closely (e.g., “I am pro-choice but people on welfare shouldn’t have so many kids”).

I feel confident saying that these ideas are antithetical to a feminist life.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what exactly I mean when I say I am a feminist.

The other day I participated in my first Feminist Hotdog-related interview where I was the subject, not the one asking the questions. Predictably, the interviewer asked me what feminism means to me. (I say “predictably,” but was I prepared to answer it? Of course not.) My answer was fine, I guess: The belief that people of all genders are equal and deserve equal access to resources and opportunities (or something like that). I followed this up by saying that this belief did not seem particularly radical to me but noted that some women distance themselves from the word feminism, not because they don’t believe in equality, but often because they don’t identify with what their stereotype of what a feminist is, does, or looks like.

I wish I’d said more, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. There are a couple of things about that answer that I want to expand on.

One, some women who believe in equality and emancipation have very good reasons for not wanting to identify as feminists, and that is because the version of feminism that dominated the women’s movement for many years was neither inclusive nor intersectional. As my guest Lecia pointed out in Episode 5 of Season 1, beginning in the 70s many black women chose to refer to themselves as womanists because white feminism, in many ways, reproduced patterns of oppression and harm toward women of color. I hope that by guarding against white feminism and striving to be intersectional, Feminist Hotdog can support a version of feminism that is genuinely inclusive; but I also recognize that I have blind spots and limitations, and I actively welcome feedback on how to improve in this area.

Two, often when I get into conversations with people about the term feminism and why people do or don’t embrace it, the phrases “radical lesbians,” “femi-Nazis,” or "man-haters" will come up (i.e., these are stereotypes about feminists that cause women to distance themselves from feminism). I don’t think I have to explain why “femi-Nazi” should be left out of any rational conversation on this topic, but I want to address "man-haters" and "radical lesbians.”

Being critical of patriarchy and harmful male behavior does not make someone a man hater. I firmly believe that feminism is a good thing for men and people of all genders because it strives to break down rigid gender roles that prevent people from forming the kinds of social and emotional connections human beings need to be healthy. Because women demanding equal rights or being critical of male behavior falls outside those gender norms, it is often perceived as aggressive or entitled or even hateful toward men. But I would argue that, in the vast majority of cases, “man-hater” is a weaponized term used in attempts to discredit women or to silence their positions.

There are (small) factions of feminists who want to live separately from men and believe that men are beyond redemption. This belief is intellectually grounded in some cases; in others, it is born of trauma so horrific that the desire for distance is hardly a mystery. (You know how reverse racism isn’t a thing? Not wanting to hang around with your oppressor, also not sexist.) I don’t believe that lesbianism or queerness automatically equate to radicalism or vice versa, nor does my feminism rely on distancing myself from radicals or lesbians (that’s just old-fashioned homophobia, y’all!) or radical lesbians or radical feminists or anyone who sincerely believes in the emancipation of anyone not born as a cis man. I may feel curious about or even critical of some of the more radical positions out there, but I can’t buy into a version of feminism that throws other feminists under the bus for living outside of prescribed gender norms. (I do take issue with trans-exclusive feminism, which I will unpack in a forthcoming post.)

When I started this show, I felt it was important to point out that I am not a scholar of feminism. I know a lot about certain figures and key debates, but I would be hard pressed to explain the different waves with much accuracy—and I think that’s OK. Feminist Hotdog was never intended to be a primer. It’s an emotional experience; therapeutic for me and, I hope, for the listeners. At the center of the show is an unwavering belief in the healing power of connection between people of all genders who experience sexism as we find our way through this fucked up time (recognizing that things have always been fucked up for a lot of us). So, while I’m never going to claim that the show is about feminism per se, but I’m also never going stop striving to learn more about what feminism means to other people and to be better at talking about it in inclusive and intersectional ways. Otherwise, there would be no point.

I meant for this to be a short little post and it turned into a rant; if you’re still with me, thanks for reading. I would love to hear your thoughts/comments. I love you.

Sneak Preview! Excerpt from the Forthcoming Feminist Hotdog Book

What Kind of Feminist Am I?