Letter #6 Why I am ‘Such a Feminist’

ah-ma

I learnt from a young age that girls were no different from boys. Growing up, it rarely occured to me that being ‘female’ was disadvantageous.

I grew up in a household where my grandmother was the matriarch of a large extended family. She had eyes on all manner of the house, knew the comings and goings of all twelve of her children, and inspired invariable awe amongst all her grandchildren. Her words could be as cutting as the cleaver she wielded, but she also had an empathy that drove her to invite roadside workers into our house for a cold drink on a sweltering day. No such thing as stranger danger for my grandma, who I am certain could have fended off any attacks. Somehow, she never fit into the docile good-wife stereotype that characterised  so many of the women from her generation.

Lucky for my sister and I, our parents never bought the maxim that girls needed to be sheltered from the big bad world. We were allowed to run and play in the mud if we wished, and we scraped our knees just as often, if not more than our male cousins (I was a clumsy child. I still am.) We had dolls that we dressed up and played house with, but we also had bikes and scooters that we terrified the neighbours on. More importantly, we were taught to speak up about injustices, even if it meant questioning a figure of a higher authority.

When the time came for me to choose a career, I eventually gravitated towards the female-dominated social sciences. However, this was a decision based purely on personal interest rather than any pressing expectations. In fact, a good number of my female friends are happily situated in the environs of STEM industries.

In the absence of any overt gender discriminations, why do I still feel the need to fight the good fight of a feminist then?

There reasons are two-fold: 1. just because sexism is not in-your-face does not mean it does not exist; and 2. just because I was blessed enough to enjoy these privileges does not mean every woman enjoys them too.

It is true that Singapore has come a long way in terms of the local women’s movement. We have equal voting rights and access to education; female representation is increasing in boardrooms, albeit at a less than ideal pace; and calls to protect victims of harassment and trafficking have been growing since the two acts were first passed in 2014. Across all fields – sports, science, health and more – women in Singapore are proving themselves an unstoppable bunch. Even so, these progress, as much as they are worth celebrating, does not mean that our nation has moved past the notion of gender typecasting.

As many of my friends can attest, being a young woman in Singapore is a perpetual balancing act of conflicting standards. We are expected to strive for the picture-perfectness of Instagram girls, with their impeccable hair, toned bodies and outfits to die for, as much as we are taught the most desirable compliment any girl can get is “You are not like other girls”. We are expected to look good, but not too good or it will scare off the guys. We are expected to dress up, doll up, but also accept that these are frivolous pursuits that we should not subject our men to. In short, individuality is appealing only if it still fits within the bounds of femininity, and femininity is desired only if it is deemed effortless.

Of course, these convoluted subtexts by which women are evaluated are not confined to the throes of youth. More eloquent and well-informed writers than I have spent years documenting the paradox plaguing women in Singapore – that between the homemaker and the productive worker. Given that girls here now have equal access to education, there seems to be little reason why we should not have big ambitions and build successful careers. And we do. Yet at the same time, women who choose to seek fulfilment through their jobs are stymied by cultural expectations of them as caregivers. As Amy Poehler, queen of all things important in my (biased) opinion sums up:

There is an unspoken pact that women are supposed to follow. I am supposed to act like I constantly feel guilty about being away from my kids. (I don’t. I love my job.) Mothers who stay at home are supposed to pretend they are bored and wish they were doing more corporate things. (They don’t. They love their job.)

To be honest, I have no clear solution for these problems. To be even more honest, I myself am far from being a good feminist. I spend too long checking out girls’ butts in the gym (and this is where I am tempted to launch into another essay on self-objectification). I oscillate between wanting a Prince Charming to validate my  desirability, and being Calhoun from Wreck-it Ralph who is ready to fight my own damn battles  (“Flattery don’t charge these batteries, civilian!”). Perhaps most heinous of all, I make snap judgements about someone based on how appealing they look. In fact, a quick google search will show you what a disparate bunch feminists are. We can barely agree on what we want!

Nevertheless, what I do know  is that there is a need to dismantle these ingrained expectations of women. Even before changes are made at the structural level, even before better policies can be legislated, we can make a conscious effort to think before we pass judgements. Don’t try to speak for the experience of others. Listen when they explain. Boys, stop having unrealistic expectations about girls. Girls, stop validating your worth at the expense of other women. We work damn hard to become the person that we are.  Be proud of that.

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