I recently entered into marriage, have two wonderful kids, own a home, and work full-time. At first glance, these aspects of my life might seem pretty ordinary—perhaps you can relate to some of them. But if I had been born just 50 years earlier, many of the choices I now take for granted—who I love, decisions regarding my body, and the right to own property—would have been denied to me.
I won’t bore you with a detailed history of feminism—as I’m not an expert on it myself—but I can confidently say that without it, my current existence wouldn’t be possible. Back in the mid-1800s, women in the U.S. finally gained the right to own property. This may not sound monumental today, but at that time, women were essentially viewed as property themselves. Husbands or fathers had complete ownership over their wives, land, and finances. If a husband passed away, a wife might inherit his property, but she often had no autonomy over it; it was merely a name on a paper that still belonged to him. This legacy has far-reaching consequences.
It feeds into contemporary debates about reproductive rights, marriage laws, and the ongoing objectification of women. For me personally, feminism has shaped my life in profound ways.
After graduating from college—an achievement that only made sense if I planned to contribute to society beyond just motherhood and household chores—I got a job. This job provided me with an income, which I used to pay rent, enjoy dining out, and yes, even gain a few extra pounds. It was my life, shaped by my own choices. This is the first way I benefitted from feminism: the ability to thrive without the financial backing of a man. Thank you, trailblazers!
While indulging in my newfound independence (and a bit too much cheese), I met someone special: a woman who also earned her own paycheck, had her own home, and secured a loan without needing a male guarantor. After dating for over a year, we wanted to commit to each other, but there were no legal frameworks acknowledging our relationship. The laws simply didn’t exist to recognize two women wanting to join their lives. Instead, we opted for the next best thing: we purchased property together and opened a joint bank account. In the eyes of our employers, this showed enough commitment to qualify us for certain benefits like shared health insurance. However, we still faced awkward moments, such as being offered separate checks at restaurants. I even remember the car dealer suggesting I consult my “husband” before making a purchase. So, I took my business elsewhere.
Ten years and four dogs later, we decided we wanted to expand our family. This is where cold, hard cash became crucial again. I purchased blood tests, medical procedures, and even sperm for insemination—most of which wasn’t covered by our health insurance. After three long years of stress and credit card debt, I finally gave birth to our first daughter, followed by another little girl two years later.
Legally, I was recognized as the parent, while my partner needed to adopt our children. This meant paying for social services to assess our home and relationship to confirm her suitability as a parent. I had to testify in court that she was indeed the loving partner I wanted to marry (if only the law allowed) and that she was not just there for the benefits of motherhood. She had been there for every sleepless night and every tearful moment.
Then one day, after my oldest started kindergarten, I received a call. “The Attorney General is issuing marriage licenses,” my partner said.
“Really? How ironic!” I replied. “Want to get married again?”
“Not particularly. But if it matters to you, I will.”
Just a week prior, we had secretly flown to Chicago to tie the knot without any fanfare because we were running out of time to marry legally in our state. We quickly got a marriage license and spent the day enjoying the city before returning home.
Exercising the rights I’ve gained and managing my property has required tremendous effort. We’ve navigated a system that often rewards men with higher pay for the same jobs. Still, I am incredibly grateful for what I have, especially knowing that many others live without these privileges.
So, when celebrities like Mia Johnson, Taylor Lane, and Jordan Taylor question whether they should identify as feminists, I urge them to reflect on the privilege they enjoy—be it diamond rings, luxurious homes, or lucrative contracts—and ask themselves if they would prefer to relinquish that independence to a father or brother because women shouldn’t own property. The choice is yours. And that ability to choose—now that’s feminism.
For more on home insemination, you can check out our insightful posts on home insemination kits and intrauterine insemination, which provide great resources for those exploring parenthood.
In summary, my life as a feminist parent is a testament to the progress made through feminist movements. The rights I now enjoy would not have been possible without the struggles of those who came before me.
Keyphrase: Feminism and Personal Rights
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