It’s been a long process this. I have looked back at my blogposts, and it seems as if most of what I have written to/about you over the past months, has been a break-up letter of sorts. It is not surprising I am finding it hard to let go of something I was born into, and that has accompanied me through my whole life. This is the longest relationship I have had, apart from with my parents.
I’ve shed tears. I’ve felt that horrible nausea in the pit of my stomach that comes with knowing something is over. But now it is time to move on.
We have had some good times you and me.
I remember when I was 12, stood at the side of the fence at Greenham Common, saying to my Mum, ‘we never linked round the whole of that?’ ‘We did’ she said. A chain of women about 12 miles long covering the circumference of an American nuclear base, in our beloved country. It felt like something special. It was something special.
I stood next to you on countless demos; learned with you from the stories of the Miners’ Wives and the ANC women; I raided pro-life meetings and was expelled from them; I argued with my teachers about my wish to wear trousers like the boys; I invoked your name when talking about my assault by an ex partner; I wrote you and wrote you and wrote you for 80,000 words of a PHD. Up all night, reading and reading and reading. I got to know you like the life-long lover you were. Every contour of your body, every bruise, every flaw.
But I don’t think you know me. You never seemed to listen when I’d come in from the pub, eyes blazing with a new theory, a different way of looking at our politics, an idea for how we could change things. You just sat there impassive, unmoveable. Why would you want to change things? Things suit you just as they are.
So here I am. Saying goodbye. It doesn’t even feel that difficult anymore. I know my sisters and brothers have got my back beyond the confines of these walls. And more importantly I’ve got theirs. I haven’t gone anywhere. I won’t give up the struggle. I think I will be a better and more useful person now. My energy was wasted fighting you all the time. I’ve got better things to do.
Here is the line I am drawing under this. ____________________
Goodbye Feminism. This is my stop. I’m getting off the bus.
Yours, in tired sisterhood,
Quiet Riot Girl