Not That Kind of Feminist?
Why so many women resist the label—and why it’s time to reclaim feminism from the “be nice and behave” version we were sold.
→ Read the full essay on PROVOKED
Editor’s Note: Off-Script—the why, what, and oh sh*t moments behind this article.
Do you consider yourself a feminist?
I used to grimace at that question. Not anymore. Because I finally realized: What the hell? Of course I am.
The problem was never feminism.
It was the half-baked, sanitized, “be reasonable” version I grew up with—the one that told me to negotiate with patriarchy instead of dismantling the damn thing.
That revelation sparked this article. One of the first I wrote when I started PROVOKED.
And here’s what I didn’t know when I hit publish: how many women would respond with relief.
Not agreement. Not “yes, queen” cheerleading. Relief.
Relief that someone finally said out loud what they’d been thinking but couldn’t name. That the polite, palatable version of feminism they’d inherited felt like a trap. That wanting power, safety, autonomy, and respect without apologizing for it wasn’t selfish—it was sane.
What I’ve learned since is that too many women still treat feminism like some weird family heirloom they’re not sure what to do with. Thanks to decades of media bullshit, they think it comes with a checklist. Do I have to protest? Hate men? Apologize for my ambition?
No. You just have to stop performing the “cool girl feminist” who never makes anyone uncomfortable.
Because feminism that prioritizes comfort over change isn’t feminism. It’s PR with a selfie filter.
I wrote this piece angry. I’m still angry. Because we’re a year past publication and women are still being told the problem isn’t systemic inequality—it’s their tone.
This one matters more now than it did then.
Feminism needs everyone.
But it doesn’t need permission.