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here are only a few memories I can recollect vividly 
from elementary school. One particular incident has 
stuck with me since second grade. My best friend 

Lauren and I were sitting at a table during indoor recess, and 
a boy in my class walked up to us and called me a girl.

There were a few things about this event 8-year-old me 

couldn’t quite comprehend. First, I had short hair and wore 
boy clothes (not to mention had a penis), so the only thing 
making me “a girl” by his standards was that I hung out with 
them. If he hangs out with his dog does that make him a 
golden retriever? And what about being a girl was supposed 
to crush my spirit so badly? My best friend was a girl and she 
seemed to be doing OK.

His “insult” really bothered me. Not because I was offend-

ed, but because I didn’t understand why that was the best he 
could come up with. If I had the extensive vocabulary I had 
now, I would have turned to Lauren and said, “Who cares 
what that misogynistic ass thinks?”

Looking back, I think of it as the day I became a feminist. 

Clearly, I was not walking around Switzer Elementary burn-
ing bras, but the attitude was certainly there.

It is true that girls mature faster than boys; for that rea-

son, my friends were predominantly girls. My male peers 
were interested in sports, video games, and naked women. I 
played soccer, but didn’t live for it. Wii was fun for a while — 
N64 still slays. I could appreciate the beauty of women, but I 
didn’t sit around drooling over them.

I should point out that not all boys were like this, but it 

seemed like the majority were either obsessed with boobs 
or books. Don’t get me wrong; boobs and books are cool and 
all, but I felt many of the boys at school needed to broaden 

their horizons. It took until high school to find boys who I 
really enjoyed hanging out with. Even before then, I wasn’t 
yearning for dude friends; I was happy with who I chose to 
surround myself with.

I wasn’t hanging out with girls for who they were physi-

cally. I was hanging out with female friends because we 
had nice conversations and laughed together all the time. 
The conversation one table over about who got a hand job in 
seventh grade didn’t interest me. There simply just weren’t 
a lot of people who I found stimulating, so I stuck with the 
friends I had.

But even though I was happy, other people in school 

found me hard to understand. The “girl” comments were 
continually sprinkled through elementary school, and then 
in middle school those were upped to my all-time favorite: 
“Are you gay?”

No, slackers of suburbia. I was not gay when you asked 

last week, and if you ask tomorrow I still won’t be.

Despite the confidence I had in who I was, comments 

from others built up feelings of frustration inside of me 
throughout middle school and the beginning of high school. 
It took a friend adding me into a Facebook group discussing 
gender issues to really help me form my own feelings into 
beliefs: I was/am a feminist. I had always shared articles on 
social issues on social media and my friend thought I would 
fit in well with that community. It turns out I did. We share 
articles and thoughts and opinions. It is welcoming. It is 
interesting. It is intelligent.

All along I had one of the first steps down: I didn’t get 

caught up with boys vs. girls in the way much of today’s 
youth does (and can we blame them with most activities, 

toys and interests being labeled with a specific gender?). I 
have an amazing group of people surrounding me. I’m not 
concerned with whether someone identifies as a boy or a 
girl. I’m concerned with what they bring to the table: loyalty, 
empathy, humor, and insight.

As I got out of the hell that is middle school, everyone else 

started to catch up. I know what I stand for and myself bet-
ter than ever. I will throw my thoughts into a conversation 
or share an article, anything to share the freedom I feel with 
knowledge. A small mind is only captive to its owner.

But, even now in college, not everyone gets it. I am still 

posed with stupid remarks and questions. “Oh, you took that 
one Women’s Studies class, now you’re a feminist.” Nope, 
not how it works.

“Are you a feminist because you listen to Beyonce?” No. 

*eye roll*

She is the queen and I agree with much of what she stands 

for, but no, she did not turn me into a feminist.

I am a feminist. Everyone should be a feminist. It’s not 

simply about women; it is about everyone. It is about power, 
intelligence and opportunity. It is about making a world that 
is great for everyone. A man doesn’t surrender his masculin-
ity by declaring himself a feminist.

I wish I could meet second-grade-me, mess up my hair 

and say, “It’s OK, everyone else will get it eventually.” I have 
friends that are girls and friends that are guys, but that is not 
what matters. What matters is that they are all great human 
beings with their own unique talents, senses of humor and 
endless other qualities that make me so grateful to have them 
in my life. It’s the realization that those standards apply to 
all people, regardless of gender, that makes me a feminist.

ILLUSTRATION BY MEGAN MULHOLLAND

Personal Statement: Owning my feminism

by Christian Kennedy, Daily Arts Writer

Wednesday, January 21, 2015 // The Statement 
7B