A couple of weeks ago I shared a post about being a housewife, and how I am glad to be one. It’s true, I love staying at home and taking care of my home and family. But, I was honestly scared to share this revelation. You see, I find that when I tell people how I actually like what I do, especially other women, I tend to get the side-eye.
You know what I’m talking about, the look that is a mix of pity and annoyance. Like I’m throwing away everything that the feminists of the past fought so hard for. How dare I turn my back on them like this?!
Well, the thing is, I do consider myself a feminist. And I think what I am doing is exactly what the first and second wave feminists intended me to do-I’m choosing to do what makes me happy.
First and second wave feminists both wanted the same thing – choice. First-wave feminists fought for the choice of representation in our governments. They worked their butts off to get us the right to vote. Second-wave feminists wanted to bust the idea that all women were happy in the home, and wanted to make sure that women who chose to were able to have equal access to the workforce.
They wanted the right to choose.
I also want the right to choose, the thing is, I choose to stay at home. I believe that the first and second wave feminists did not mean for their movement to end up belittling women who make this choice. Just like they would not want a woman belittled who chose to work.
I choose to stay at home. Do you know what else I choose to do?
I choose to dress nice, fix my hair, and wear makeup almost daily. I choose to look nice 90% of the time when I go outside of the house (there is always that 10% that I can’t get it together, and I’m not ashamed). I choose like ruffles and flowers, and sweet smells in my home.
I choose to do all of this, and that’s okay. I can be a feminist and still be feminine? Want to know why? Because if you choose to be different I’m okay with that too.
If you choose to work outside of the home? Fine with me.
If you choose to never wear a dress or the color pink in your life? Sounds like a plan.
If you don’t know the difference between baking powder and finishing powder? Who cares?
The point is I like it; I choose to do it. Heck, I even sometimes wear pretty aprons when I clean. I am not suppressed because I am a homemaker- I am exercising the choice that my feminist forbearers worked so hard that I could have.
What’s wrong with that?
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