The head of the Women’s and Gender Studies program I attended at the University of Rhode Island drilled this into me: your brain is a muscle. Unused, it withers away. The same is true for feminism. Many awaken from patriarchal slumber from time to time to express frustration and even anger at a particularly diabolic transgression of equality. These head nods to feminism often happen in a globalized context, where, from a Western feminist (and white), perspective it is easy to slip a fart of outrage at patriarchal oppression elsewhere. Besides reproducing global colonial hierarchies, this occasional devastation at the global deficit of equality is not enough. Feminism in practice leads to constant vigilance.
Consumed with gusto, feminism is a sobering hallucinogenic; when metabolized, it leaves perception clear but reality distorted. The more I engage with feminism, the more uneasy I feel: what the fuck is going on? Followed quickly by: is it just me or ...? The come-on of feminism can also turn into an exuberant high. The intricate awareness of overlapping hierarchies of oppression opens space for all kinds of emotions. Reared in white supremacist patriarchy, our emotions are coerced into a false dichotomy with reason, and then flipped around so that reason glares down from ivory towers on emotions. Feminism encourages your feelings to go fuck themselves. Because masturbating is actually very nice and relaxing.
I want to blog from a feminist perspective from Finland, where I have recently moved back into, because my feminism is shy but loves outings. My feminism might crush on your feminism; my feminism wants to smell sour and slime up sheets. My feminism needs shelter, a change of underwear, pickle juice, and a lot of affection. My feminism has diarrhea. A lot.
I am looking for company. For queer feminist intellectuals, artists, activist, poets, writers. For badasses to grill Finnish elected leaders. I am looking for community, folks who love themselves, folks who in the context of societal shit fail like Jack Halberstam hails. I would like to find friends interested in helping me suckle on all the knowledge that feminist brilliants like Beatriz Preciado stuff into paragraphs that are a page long each. I can’t do it alone, I feel dumb!
This country that I mooned over with goggles of childhood nostalgia while trying life in the US, is politically, economically and socially in the midst of pivotal times (to chime into the melodramatic choir kick-started by Finnish Prime Minister Sipilä (Center Party) on national TV this week. But like, shit is really going down here.) I want to flex my feminism so that Finland will reflect the intersectionality of people who are here. I have also noticed the dearth of political news in languages other than Finnish, which confides access to discourse only to Finnish speakers, but also circumscribes transnational solidarity across and beyond borders. For this reason I will primarily blog in English.