Feminist Dad

I’ve learned a few important lessons during my six months of being a dad:

(1) I love traveling. I love baseball games. I love biking. None of those things come close to the magnificence of hanging out with my kids at home.

(2) Rolling Stone said that Bob Dylan’s “Like a Rolling Stone” is the greatest song ever. Rolling Stone is a liar. The right answer is “Butterfly Kisses.” You win, Bob Carlisle.

(3) I am a feminist.

I say that with pride.

“Feminism” is a word that may spark many different reactions. I’m an old school gangsta so I like to cut through the nonsense and go straight to the basics. Here’s what my homeboy Webster has to say about the word “feminism”:

“the belief that men and women should have equal rights and opportunities”

Well, that was easy.

So why do I call myself a “feminist”?

That’s easy too.

(1) I believe God created men and women as equals. God has the same abundant love and limitless grace for all of us.

(2) Everyone is equal under the United States Constitution. Unfortunately, that was not always the case. It is now though, so we should embrace it passionately.

(3) I want my bold, remarkable, brilliant, beautiful, hilarious, and magnificent daughter to get the same opportunities and respect as my spirited, adorable, enormous, goofy, handsome, and gregarious son.

Feminist Dad

I fear that will not be the case.

We live in a world where people asked Amanda if she was going back to work after the kids were born, but no one asked me.

We live in a world where it seems like every single item of baby “girl” clothing is pink or covered with flowers, hearts, or cupcakes.

We live in a world where one of the most popular organizations in America suspends an employee two games for beating up his wife, but another employee four games for taking prescription drugs.

We live in a world where people make jokes and memes about that very issue.

We live in a world where gaggles of men ogle and harass women at bus stops.

We live in a world where nearly all of our political and business leaders are men.

We live in a world where girls are told to be princesses. If my daughter wants to be a princess, we will have the grandest of tea parties and make-believe balls. Cinderella will be jealous. I hope my daughter grows up dreaming about being President or a scientist, but it will be her choice.

We live in a world where women in magazines are photoshopped because apparently just being themselves is not good enough.

We live in a world where I’m told I should dress my daughter “like a girl” when I put both kids in cheesy cartoon costumes for their monthly birthday photo.

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We live in a world where 20% women are raped at some point in their lives.

We live in a world where rape victims are blamed for their “bad” choices.

I don’t want my daughter to live in that world.

I don’t want my wife to live in that world.

I don’t want my son to live in that world.

I don’t want to live in that world.

That’s why I’m a feminist.

Me and My Drool-Covered and Fabulous Daughter:

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