Vexed About Sexism

By RACHEL MUSLEAH

Feminists are man-hating lesbians. They don't shave their legs and they don't wear bras. This is the stereotype that is in my lexicon of generalizations. Of course, being a rational human being, I know that this I not true. But if I know that it's just a misconception, then why am I so afraid of being labeled a feminist? I have nothing but respect for gay rights activists and even animal rights advocates. I have a high regard for almost anyone who actively supports a cause in which they believe. Yet for some reason I scoff at feminists. Why should I reject someone fighting for a cause that affects me so much? Maybe the reason I reject feminism is that it affects me.

I had never really experienced sexism before. I was aware that in some cultures women were objectified or taken advantage of or forced to cover up their entire bodies. It wasn't a part of my life though.

In seventh grade, after my Bat-Mitzvah, I cut off all my hair and donated it to Locks of Love, a foundation that makes wigs for kids who have lost their hair through chemotherapy or through a disease called alopecia. After having long curly hair for so many years, I thought that if I was going to do it, I might as well do it all the way - I got a buzz cut. Even though my new coif didn't look particularly stunning, I loved having a centimeter of hair. I cut down my shower time by at least 10 minutes. I no longer had to deal with conditioning and brushing and blow-drying. At school most of my friends thought my new 'do was pretty cool. I was so "brave" and "daring" and "individual." Hey, I just liked how simple my hair care routine became.

At camp though, it was a different story. Nobody really knew the story behind my newly chopped locks. To them it was just a drastic change in my appearance. And for reasons that I could not figure out, it also meant that I was a feminist. I didn't, and still don't, understand why having short hair made me a feminist, so I denied it. I can't say why, but I was very upset that people thought that I was a feminist just because of my hair. I can't say whether or not this encounter could be classified as sexism, but it certainly turned me off to feminism.

My first acquaintance with sexism came two summers later. At camp we have a class every morning for an hour. The topic of my class happened to be sexuality in the Torah. The class explored what was the role of men and women as far as sexual obligations went, among other issues of sexuality that come up in Genesis, Ezekiel, and the Talmud. I was an active participant in class. I asked and answered questions, trying to make the best of the fact that I had to be in a class during the summer. After just about every comment I made, one boy in my class would always groan, moan, and jeer at whatever I said. My teacher did not fail to notice. At one point he asks this boy what was wrong. He mumbled something of which I only caught the words "such a feminist." I was shocked. I had merely figured that he thought me a know-it-all or hated me, or something like that. I could've dealt with that. It's easy to know how to react when someone doesn't like you. I just didn't understand why he called me a feminist, and moreover, why it was a bad thing.

I play ultimate Frisbee. I'm not very good, but it's the only sport I play and I love it. I don't know what first turned me on to ultimate, but I think it was the general atmosphere of the game. The game is played in entirely good spirits. There are no referees. The only equipment you need is a disc. At camp we have an ultimate Frisbee team. When I was 14 I was on the team. It wasn't such an accomplishment, everyone who showed up to the tryouts made it. Again, I wasn't very good, but I had fun. Then this past summer I assumed to join the team again. Some of the other players, however, scowled when I showed up to practice. They were obviously not pleased by my presence. Towards the end of the practice, one of the coached approached me. "I, uh, don't know if this is, uh, a, uh, coed team," he stammered while avoiding looking me in the eyes. Unable to believe what I was hearing, I calmly responded that I was on the team the previous year and there hadn't been any problem. He muttered uncomfortably that he would check with the camps we were supposed to play against to see if their teams were coed. When I told them that they were, he mumbled something incoherent and kind of backed away. I walked back to my bunk fuming. "If they're going to cut me," I thought, "it should be because I wasn't a very good player, not because of my sex."

At that moment, the words of the boy in my class echoed in my head. "Such a feminist." I realized that I was facing sexism. If I knew that something wrong was happening, was I a feminist for being upset by it? The rest of the team didn't want me to play. The difficulty was whether it was because they didn't like me as a person, or because they didn't want a girl on the team. The question I posed to myself was whether I should let them have it their way and quit, or keep playing and risk being labeled a feminist.

I opted to play. The boys eventually stopped fighting and accepted that I was on the team. At the game, I didn't get much time on the field, but I didn't care. I was on the team, it didn't matter if I played or sat on the bench. We lost by a landslide. My performance had little effect on the outcome of the game. The next game was an away game. There were a limited number of seats on the van. I love to play, but it was a bigger deal to some of the guys to be able to go to the game. I didn't mind that no seat was reserved for me. Because the rest of the team was all in one bunk, I was never notified as to when the team picture would be taken. My face won't appear in the yearbook with the rest of the team. That's okay with me. After all, I know how to stack and they don't.

The ultimate Frisbee team at school is quite different. During the season in the spring, a good friend of mine and I are the only girls on the team. Seeing how it's on top of a bank, our school has no sports facilities. So whenever we have athletics, we bus over to the Brandeis campus. When we get over to the practice field, Sara and I tie each others cleats while the guys change into their gym clothes. At school, the boys don't mind having us, the girls, on the team. My main problem is just feeling somewhat uncomfortable with all the guys. Sara and I always play on opposite teams when we scrimmage, and usually cover each other. In the fall, Sara plays soccer and I'm the only girl. Now I just busy myself staring into space while the guys change. One time, I was walking back to the bus when I overheard a senior on the team who was talking to another senior say, "Yeah, I think she is the only girl on the team." At hearing this, I was exultant.

After much struggling, I've given in. I am a feminist. I believe that women should have rights equal to men. Of course, I also believe that women can be equal to men and still shave their legs.