Why I Am A Feminist: Part 1

Flower obsession!

I was never really meant to be a feminist
in the way many people understand the word today. You see, I grew up in a traditional family with traditional values, and thus thought of feminism as a dirty word connoting disruptive women of old. I had pink sparkly walls and notebooks covered with Leonardo DiCaprio's face, I was captain of the cheerleading squad and hosted girly sleepovers. I was the typical Alpha Girl. And I was NOT a feminist. 

Then I went to college. I took a women's studies class for a general elective requirement, thinking it'd provide some fun anecdotes about the crazy professor for my family back home. That's when a pert little woman in her mid-thirties changed my life.
She both showed me through her actions and taught me through her words what feminism really means: men and women fighting for equality of the sexes. 

I became fascinated by the subject and took many more classes to broaden my understanding of women's struggles around the world. But even through all the research and all the classes, I had never really experienced a truly jarring sexist act myself, and therefore this all remained rather theoretical.  That changed at my first job out of college. 

Right after graduation, I started working in the editorial department of a small publishing company in Chicago. Immediately, a man in his mid-thirties who worked in the sales department (whom we shall call David) started making aggressive passes at me whenever I had to pass by his cubicle. I politely declined his invitations to grab lunch or get a cup of coffee after work, and not wanting to seem too aggressive, simply told him that "I'd just gotten out of a relationship and wasn't ready to date" or "I was too busy."

A naturally persistent salesman, David didn't accept my first rejections, so started to pursue me more attentively. Every time I passed his cubicle (which was necessary if I wanted to get to the kitchen, conference room or bathroom), he would stand up and follow me to my destination, striking up conversation when we were there. David would pass me notes while I was on the phone, talk about how I looked to coworkers, and continued to ask me to lunch or dinner Every. Single. Day. Eventually, when a co-worker approached me to let me know that David was spreading a rumor around the whole office that he and I were going on a romantic date that night (which I had never agreed to), I knew it was time to talk to management.

As a small company, there was no formal HR department, so I brought the conversation to my immediate manager. She acted quite professional, assuring me over and over again that they "take this kind of thing very seriously," yet all the while emphasizing that she didn't think we needed to do anything yet. Nevertheless, she was "very glad I felt comfortable bringing this to her attention."

Come on, I was anything but comfortable.

A few weeks went by and the passes of course continued. I started having nightmares about David following me down the long corridor to the bathroom when no one else was around, and shied away from the people in my office who thought I must be leading him on. After having lunch with my mother one day, in tears from frustration and sleep-deprivation, I decided I had to talk to the CEO of the company and let him know that his best salesman was harassing me, the new girl, and that it must stop. I was afraid of this. I was afraid of my boss thinking that I was exaggerating or causing trouble. I was after all, the most recent hire. He couldn't know for sure that the last thing I wanted to do was "cause drama" or create tension in the office. Nevertheless, I scheduled an appointment one afternoon and let him know what was going on.

Once again I got the whole spiel about how "they take this thing really seriously" and that he was "glad I brought this to his attention." But when I asked to be taken off of David's accounts (he secured the advertising, and therefore controlled my profits from my editorial stories), I was told there was no need of that. When I insisted that I was uncomfortable, my boss just laughed admonishing and said, "Oh, that's just David."

I was at the tipping point. The next day, there was a cartoon pasted to our office refrigerator alluding to a man's penis making a sandwich, posted by the very same CEO who essentially told me not to worry about the guy who was giving me nightmares. So I quit.

This was my first real foray into the working world, and quite an eye-opener. No longer in the cozy, protected world of my parent's home or an elite university, I was as open to sexism as anyone. I was as vulnerable to harassment as many women are from a much younger age. I want people to know that sexual harassment still occurs in the workplace, and that it is unacceptable. I want women to know that they should never feel they are being "troublemakers" or creating a scene if they report someone to their boss. No one should be made to feel stupid because they are scared of a fellow employee.

I realize that this experience pales in comparison to the experience of so many women, yet it is my own, it effected me, and I wanted to share it. Of course, there are probably a hundred other reasons why I am a feminist, which I'm sure I'll get to in different posts along the way, but this is a start.

Do you have any stories to share? Any incredible women in your life who have faced trying situations only to overcome? Let me know in the comments.