Why I'm Rarely a Feminist Offline

This week, a man told me to move manspreaders out of my space through sheer force. He didn’t know that women had done experiment after experiment on exactly that. He didn’t know many of them obtained several minor injuries as a result. Still, that’s not why I refuse to fight every random manspreader and street harasser I encounter.

I love serenity, so I move around the world in ways that provide it. I’d sooner go to a new coffee shop than argue with an old one. I’d sooner find a new seat than launch into a raging fight with a manspreader on a train. I’d rather ignore street harassmers than confront them, and I’d rather walk away when a man condescends to me offline.

Feminists must choose the hills they’re willing to die on because if they perish on the first, they won’t be much good to anyone. Oppression is a constant, cloying presence in South African women’s lives. You must learn to coexist with it the moment you’re old enough to wear a bra worth snapping.

At first, you stay silent because you don’t realise that behaviour is unacceptable.

Then you stay silent because you’re fearful of what might happen to you if you speak up.

In time, though, silence can become a strategic choice designed for maximum serenity and maximum effect.

I hate fighting. I don’t like male rage. I’m scared of some of the men I encounter in public spaces and have no desire to be a full-time feminist crusader offline.

Yes, I really did say that.

Fighting every incident of misogyny would require me to fight all day every day, so I’ve chosen a different medium of protest. You’re reading it right now. I write about rape culture. I confront online misogyny. I’ve even done my share of activism, but I keep a giant wall between my regular life and my feminist life because I like being happy.

I’ll bet you like being happy, too.

If I confronted every misogynistic behaviour I encountered, I’d be a very tired bear with no hunney to speak of. I know, I know. As a feminist, it’s my job to teach men how to be better people, but I’m on a lovely walk. I’m enjoying the beach. I don’t want to invite contention into that space. That space is mine and only mine. Feminism taught me I’m allowed that.

I’m not confident in the power of confrontation, but I do believe in the power of writing, so that’s where I keep my feminism--next to the pens and the keyboard. If we meet for coffee, we probably won't talk about intersectionality. We’ll talk about the ocean.

When Fetlifians meet me offline, they usually tell me I’m less angry than they expected. That’s because I compartmentalise my causes. I keep my animal cruelty cause in this corner and my rape culture arguments on that shelf. Down here in the living room where I spend most of my time, I don't let my causes scurry around in front of the TV quashing my joy.

Men often tell me they know how cloying rape culture is because someone harassed them on the street once. If that’s your understanding of the problem, you have no business telling women how to respond to it. D’you know what you should do, though? Fight with every misogynist you run into. This is going to be super fun for you. I know it.