Feminist dread—what it is, how I cope
Trigger warning: sexual violence.
I’ve had existential dread. I know existential dread. But this feels different.
The specific flavor of dread I have been experiencing the past few months is what I have decided to call feminist dread.
I had my feminist awakening in my late teens and early 20s as I was unpacking the belief systems I had internalized in my conservative middle-class suburban upbringing. I didn’t want to be a housewife. I didn’t want to be a Christian. I didn’t want to have a life in which my greatest accomplishments were being attractive, making money, and making babies. I wanted to have a life that I was proud of—but I had no idea what that actually meant.
That was my first instance of feminist dread. More like an appetizer of what was to come. Fast forward about 8 years.
Since then, I have been assaulted more than a couple times. I have been in abusive relationships with manipulative men. I have been made to feel small and worthless and objectified. Those things I can handle. These things I can overcome. Women are waging invisible wars every single day and winning despite the odds. I am resilient—not because I want to be, but because I have to be.
However, it’s the scope of this blatant and disgusting violence that plagues me—truly, haunts me. There are women being exploited by billionaires—little girls being exploited by billionaires. There are executives, politicians, and moguls of all kinds preying upon women and femmes. And no one. fucking. cares.
No one. Fucking. Cares.
It’s almost like I had fallen asleep after my first feminist awakening. I did the work, I learned the things, I unpacked the belief systems. And then I kind of subconsciously retired from my feminist awareness. And then BOOM. I’m reminded that the world was made by men for men, and that as long as manmade systems persist and they are occupied by men and catered towards men, violence against women will persist as well.
I walk around the world now as if it were a ghost town. I see a woman and wonder if she’s okay, if anyone has hurt her, what invisible wars she is waging today, what she needs, what she wants. I feel like I have been jolted awake. I don’t want to be jolted awake again—I want to remain vigilant. But still, I must continue to find joy and purpose and meaning in this life, and the task feels impossible. How can violence and joy co-exist? How can I experience happiness while carrying this anxiety? To be honest with you, I have no actual clue. But, I have a few ideas of what to try and where I want to start.
I am only going to talk about my experience. I have no idea how anyone else copes with feminist dread—that is their journey and theirs alone.
Going back to basics
Eating. Showering. Moving. Getting out of bed. Taking breaks. Drinking water. Breathing in. Breathing out. Setting boundaries, and not breaking them.
Getting angry
I am fucking pissed. I. Am. Fucking. Pissed. I am not going to pretend like I’m not. I’m not going to water myself down. I am not going to be quiet or still or silent. I am going to make some noise. I am going to let this rage galvanize me into actionable changes in my own life that create safe spaces for the women I encounter and care for. If I can help women feel safe in my presence, I feel like I’ve done my part. If I can stand up for women whom I do not know and will never meet by speaking out against the things that threaten women all over the world, I feel like I’m acting in alignment with my values.
Building intergenerational community
Something I realized when my grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and began to unravel her life for me as she never had before, is that violence against women has always existed. My mother, grandmother, great grandmother, cousin, friend, neighbor, co-worker have likely all experienced sexual violence. I can never know the ins-and-outs of the violence that runs through my lineage, but I can remember the sobering words of my grandmother and look outwards at the women around me and beyond me. Remember: waging invisible wars. All of them.
Being disobedient
I don’t want want to be obedient in a man-made world. Because if the world is man-made, that means the rules were created by men. If the rules were created by men, then that means we live in patriarchy, and patriarchy is inherently violent and oppressive towards women. Political violence is still violence. I don’t actually totally know what being disobedient will look like in my life. At the moment it is more of a consciousness that I carry within me—a willingness to interrogate everything that I have ever taken at face value as “the way things are”. But I am open to being actively disobedient as well. I will disobey anything that requires me to exploit myself or others or be complicit in the kind of gendered violence that is being perpetuated and ignored by our government. I’m jumping ship—I am my own government now.
Practicing self-compassion
Sometimes I feel like a piece of shit for sitting at home and knitting my freaking sweater vest while women everywhere are being tortured and violated. It almost feels like intrusive thoughts—I see the images, I hear the screams. But I know that I have to do what I have to do in order to get through this moment and continue fighting for the things that I believe in. If that requires sleeping more than usual, taking a mental health day from work, being alone more than usual, or crying in the car to Adrianne Lenker—so be it. Now more than ever I have to give myself permission to grieve, feel, and heal. I am too soft for this cruel world, so I must create my own moments of softness to compensate and carry on.
One last thing before I end this rather somber coming-out-of-blog-retirement post—if you are a man, I urge you to take action. Call out your shitty male friends that objectify and belittle women. Educate yourself—read feminist books. And for the love of freaking god, do not harm women. Remember—your mother, grandmother, great grandmother, cousin, friend, neighbor, co-worker have likely all experienced sexual violence. A threat to women somewhere is a threat to women anywhere.