The cringe-ification of feminism

In what I thought was an earnest effort to be more informed, I became one of many women who overcorrected and helped recast women’s issues as “cringe.”

“No, no, no, I can’t identify as a woman! People can’t know that. Men hate that. And women who hate women hate that, which, I believe, is most women.” — Selina Meyer, Veep

But first, here’s what else people are talking about on Diem:

1. What are some actionable steps I can take to make the world a better place?    

2. Hidden Pride Symbol   

3. am i a bitch for being petty about my bff wearing the same costume as me?  

4. Can capitalism protect women?   

5. Are we keeping our period tracking apps considering the election results?

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When Hillary Clinton lost the 2016 presidential campaign, I got a tattoo to mourn the defeat. “Valuable, powerful, deserving”—words taken from her concession speech directed towards young women who felt hopeless about their futures. I attended the Women’s March, wearing not quite a pussy hat but still a shirt covered in boob illustrations and brandishing a handmade sign. I read books like Lean In, fired off tweets, and lectured whoever would listen.

Now, my Instagram posts from the Women’s March are archived, my tattoo something I only ever share with assurances that I’m embarrassed about it. I calmed down, in general, with my feminist rhetoric. This is not because I no longer believe it. It’s because nobody else did.

Over the course of Donald Trump’s presidency, this modern proud, loud, women-empowering-women feminism had to reckon with some harsh truths: that a majority of white women voted for Trump, that women in power still abuse it, that all women, even proclaimed feminists, can commit harmful acts of racism, classism, and internalized misogyny. Upon reflection, the Women’s March started to ring hollow. The pussy hat became a symbol of cringe, the term “girlboss” now only ever said in a mocking tone. In an effort to distance myself from that, I, too, joined in the mockery of the flawed movement I nevertheless built my identity upon.