I blame Rosie the Riveter.
The world war two icon and the message of female empowerment she symbolizes lured me into the world of women’s studies at a young age. Truly, I’ve been identifying as a feminist since grade school. I vividly remember sitting in my 4th grade classroom and reading the SINGLE paragraph about “women’s history” in my history text. I believe it read something like, “In 1920 with the addition of the 19th amendment, women were given the right to vote. The women involved were called suffragettes, and a lot of them wore bloomers and were active abolitionists.” I was shocked at the injustice. Women are half the population, wouldn’t it make sense for us to comprise half the textbook?
That day in 4th grade was my “ah ha” feminist moment, but Rosie definitely added fuel to the fire. I fell in love with her the moment I saw her. I loved everything about her: her worker wear and red polka dotted bandana, her “We Can Do It” positive message, the strength she showed in her hard stare as well as in the physical bicep she flexed—everything. She was ready to take on whatever the world threw at her and I loved her for it.
There was a time in my life where anything Rosie emblazoned was immediately purchased, and when her image appeared on a book entitled “Feminism,” that was purchased too. But then, a strange thing occurred, I read the book and I found myself agreeing. I started realizing that there were still injustices occurring between the sexes. I started using the word feminist to describe myself, much to the dismay of my mother.
As soon as I finished that book, I was hooked. I started perusing around the Women’s Studies section of Barnes and Noble, even though its location next to the Gay and Lesbian section made my 12 year old self uncomfortable. I bought the Feminine Mystique and consumed it over a summer, quoting paragraphs to my cousin who was nice enough to listen to me babble before diving back into her Redwall novel.
I started to work my way through the must-reads of the genre, The Second Sex, The Anatomy of Love, School Girls, The Meaning of Wife, The Body Project, The Mommy Myth, Female Chauvinist Pigs… my appetite for the subject has only increased over the years. I’ve gravitated to women’s studies topics at every academic opportunity, always eager to learn more about the field, both in theory and practice.
Simply put, women’s studies is my passion.
That passion fostered action during my undergraduate career. As an English Literature major I excelled at the Feminist critique, and as women’s studies minor I learned how to dissect every aspect of our culture from a feminist perspective. During my undergrad almost all of my papers took on a feminist critique; I wrote about the symbolism of the frying pan in The Woman Who Walked Into Doors, I wrote about the impact of networking sites on eating disordered individuals and the rise of Pro-ED communities, I even penned my senior paper on the resexualization of Little Red Riding Hood in American culture and had the opportunity to present it at an academic conference.
I loved the academic outlet, but soon my passion for the subject could no longer be contained in the classroom. With the aid of my mentor, I founded the first women’s interest club in Small Liberal University history. I served as president of the club throughout my time at school and with the help of my club members we organized and facilitated what would eventually become an annual undergraduate women’s studies conference. The conference, which is currently the only one of its kind at Small Liberal University, celebrated its 3rd successful event in March of 2008, featuring over 200 presenters and participants.
My passion for the women’s studies did not go unnoticed during my time as an undergrad. In 2007 I received an award I am extremely proud of, The Vagina Warrior Award, given every year at Small Liberal University’s
Vagina Monologues performance. I have participated in the monologues for the past four years, and I am to this day the only student to ever receive the award.
It was around this time, the spring semester of my senior year, that I realized I wanted to continue my formal education in women’s studies. Since I’m now in the middle of the application process, narrowing down schools and getting paperwork in order, I find I have to keep explaining myself to people. I shudder when people ask me why I’m intending to continue my schooling. It always seems to come back to the same argument. They ask, “Why? Why spend another 5 years in school working toward a degree that can’t guarantee you anything but student debt?” And I end up smiling weakly, because the thought has crossed my mind as well, but I know deep down the money doesn’t matter, it’s what I want to do—it’s my passion. But unfortunately it’s hard to explain that to my parent’s friends or older relatives and I give them the watered down retort of “I like the subject, I want a Ph.D., and what better time than now?”
What I want to tell them is that I’m doing it because…well,
Because I have experienced the frustration of attempting to teach a subject based in objective. Because I know first hand the feeling of defeat when a lecture is met with choruses of “that doesn’t happen anymore.” Because I have been in the room when a student watches Jean Kilbourne’s Killing Us Softly and finally gets it. I want to tell them that I’m doing it because I beeline straight to the women’s studies of Barnes and Noble every time I visit. I want to tell them I’m doing it because I read Feministing everyday and see headlines that turn my stomach…but every so often I read some that make my heart soar. Because I can’t watch television without critiquing the show content and (most definitely) the commercials. Because I still get called “cutie,” and “sweetie” at my workplace. Because my roommates and I can’t walk outside our apartment building without feeling uneasy.
I want to tell them that it’s my passion. That it’s as integral to me as my need to write, or my eye color or my Irish heritage. I want to tell them that I can not imagine not pursing it, that I can’t imagine walking away from it.
But I think, the next time someone asks, I’ll just say I’m doing it because of Rosie.
I’m doing it because she told me that I can.
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