I remember sitting in a lecture on Women’s Writing at university when our lecturer asked us, "Put your hand up if you’re a feminist". You could hear the silence, the scribbling doodlers and manic keyboard tappers suddenly came to an abrupt halt. Eyes darted nervously around the room. Was it a trick question? Should I, shouldn’t I? In 2007, feminism still felt like a dirty word. Extremist, man-hating, full of rage, doesn’t like sex or push-up bras. I didn’t put my hand up.
Fast-forward 10 years, here I am. 30, married, the co-owner of a two-bed period flat in leafy Wimbledon Village. And a feminist.
In some respects, my husband and I have a fairly traditional relationship. I recently left my full-time job as a digital editor at a top monthly glossy magazine to go freelance - something I couldn’t have done without his breadwinner salary. Alongside my jam-packed diary as an editor and digital consultant, I do all the housework. I hoover pretty much daily (thanks to my beloved Dyson cordless), scrub the bathroom top to bottom, dust, tidy up. Such a chore, you cry! Nope, I bloody love it. I am cleaning obsessed. And I adore baking. Nothing makes me happier than adopting the role of the traditional housewife, whipping up cakes for my husband, getting dressed up everyday, even if we aren’t going out.
What did I do when he presented me with a pistachio-green KitchenAid as a moving-in present? Throw it back in his face and tell him it represents old-fashioned domesticated monotony? No, I jumped up for a snog to say thank you. I’d longed for one. I enjoy making my home look pretty and throwing the sort of afternoon tea parties 1950s handbooks raved about.
At the same time, I am also a feminist who believes women deserve equal pay and equality in the workplace. I was more than disgruntled at the results of the gender pay gap reporting earlier this year and the appalling attitude some companies took in presenting the results, "We don’t have a pay gap it’s just all the directors are men."
Am I an oxymoron for those that think that playing the role of the housewife and being an equal rights believer don’t go hand-in-hand? Sometimes I feel guilty at the roles I like to adopt, as if I shouldn’t enjoy being a homemaker because it’s not ‘feminist’. I think some people still associate marriage as an albatross, the loss of your name, financial independence and sexual freedom. But for me, feminism is all about being free to make the choices you want to make. Lingering stigmas aside, no one should be made to feel ashamed for their choices - whether they support or go against your own beliefs.
For the most part, our marriage is actually equal. While I choose to take on the household duties, he does most of the cooking. He also brings me a cup of tea and breakfast on a tray in bed most mornings, puts up with my incessant OCD tendencies and supports me in absolutely everything I do. He doesn’t control me, we are a team. I know when we decide to have a family, I may opt to stay at home if it makes financial sense. I’m fine with that - I’ve always wanted to live in the country and be a hands-on mother. Adhering to conventional relationship roles shouldn’t be frowned upon.
I’m happy with my choices. I am a career-driven, ambitious, pants-wearing feminist who likes making a Victoria sponge and mopping the floor. If you think this makes me unorthodox, so be it. But I'd like to think it makes me a truly modern woman. If only my 20-year-old self knew it...
