# 112 (2013) At Home? You Must Be Married
I have no particular interest in feminism. It’s a minefield I’d never survive because I just don’t understand it. Instead of attaching a feminist-ometre to everything I prefer to be myself. If high heels, make up and shaving are your issues of choice you need to wake up and look at real world problems such as forced marriage and rape. And these aren’t feminist issues, they are human welfare issues.
The feminist message confuses the crap out of me. My experience of it has been full of contraditions and unmanageable ideals in the real world.
But last week I had one of those double take moments. I was awaiting the delivery of a new washing machine. Actually I was working from home and happened to be in when it was delivered but that is beside the point.
When the men from a ‘well known electrical retailer’ delivered the new machine I was met with ‘You can get your husband to fit this for you’.
Er excuse me? Do you see a ring on my finger. Maybe I am a plumber or maybe I have a girlfriend who’s a dab hand under the kitchen sink. But don’t assume that just because I’m the one at home when you deliver that I’m a housewife awaiting the breadwinner’s return.
My reaction made me wonder about my feminist status. I rarely get enthusiastic or reactionary to women’s issues, probably because I’ve never really felt pushed into a position of having to defend myself in that way.
But equally that may also come down to the fact that I can hold my own and always give the impression that I won’t be messed with. I’m one of the guys. I’d always been a bit of a tomboy. Wanting to be treated as an equal rather than as the wife, girlfriend or secretary was my usual stance. I didn’t come from a background that particularly wanted me to follow a traditional route although my anti marriage / anti kids route may have gone a little further than most expected.
Does that make me a feminist? I don’t know but I hope not. Because I really hate labels.