We Should All Be Feminists by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie: A review

This brief - less than 100 pages - treatise by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie is an adaptation of a very popular TED talk that she gave by the same name. It is an insightful exploration of what it means and doesn't mean to be a feminist. She explores her topic with humor and eloquence and without pressuring her listener/reader to agree with her. Still, her argument is very persuasive and it is hard to see how any person with a clear and open mind could possibly disagree.

The writer speaks of her experience with sexism primarily in regard to her growing up in Nigeria. She reveals how that has shaped her and affected her life. Even though her experience was Nigerian in origin, I can easily visualize women right around the world nodding as they read her descriptions of what happened to her.

Adichie goes on to discuss misconceptions about feminism and not just misconceptions but outright lies promulgated by misogynists in an attempt to discredit the whole idea of feminism. Some of the more humorous lies about feminists, for example, are such things as they never wear bras or they hate wearing bras; they never shave their legs or underarms; they wear ugly, mannish clothes; they don't wear makeup or deodorant; and, of course, the big one, they hate men. None of this is true of feminists or feminism as a whole, although any one of the statements could potentially be true of an individual feminist. But feminists are as varied and diverse in their opinions and beliefs as any other group of people.

In fact, one of the diversities that is seldom acknowledged by feminism's enemies is that feminists come in all genders. A man can as easily be a feminist as a woman. One of Adichie's arguments is that we should take care in raising young children, especially young boys, to give them a gender-neutral entry into the world. Girls and boys should be offered the same opportunities to find their natural interests and the things in life at which they can excel.

For the past several decades, misogynists have worked hard to blacken the meaning of the word feminist, making it something to be denied and avoided. And they have done a damned thorough job of it. Thus, it is not unusual to hear a woman today saying, "Oh, no, I'm not really a feminist."

What??? You don't think a woman is a human being entitled to the same rights and privileges as men? You don't think women should be paid the same for doing the same work as men? You don't think a woman has an inalienable right to control her own life and her own body? Because all of that is exactly what it means to be a feminist. It's not about subjugating anybody else; it is about freeing women to be fully themselves, without shame.

This little book is a perfect introduction (for anyone who needs one) to the concept of feminism. It would be a excellent gift for a teenager or young adult who may need guidance on the subject. I can think of a few people of my advanced age who could benefit from reading it, too!

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

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