Ooooooh,
that scary word. Feminist. Say it. Louder. FEMINIST.

I’m
coming out of my gender-roles closet. I’m a feminist.
Reminds me of High School Musical’s “Breaking Free.”
Christians
(and most men I know), in my experience, have a hard time with that
word. It’s already starting to look kind of funny to me from typing
it four times. But given that I’ve been surrounded by strong women
for the past three weeks with no men in our little community,
surrounded by an environment that is suffocating the women in the
bars, and surrounded by men who have lost track of their own
identities, I feel like it’s time to clear the air around me, despite the amount of flack that I’m probably setting myself up for.
I’m
not a crazy man-hater.  I’m not pro-choice.  My armpits are
not overgrown with hair.  My bras have never been so much as
singed, let alone doused in kerosene and set ablaze in an oil drum.
 I heartily thank the women of my parents’ generation for
stigmatizing the word so that it brings those aforementioned images
to mind.  Well done, eleventh grade history books.
Being
in Phuket and seeing the women and men in Patong has made me really
think about what feminism is for me.  I had a conversation with
Bethany on Friday afternoon about my views on feminism, and it boiled
down to this.
Feminism
encourages women to pursue their hearts, passions, and dreams in a
manner that does not compromise their giftings or uniqueness.
 However, neither does it demean or discourage their male
counterparts.
A scary feminist.  Ooooooh.
When
you’re walking down the streets of Patong, all you can see are the
women sitting with customers or dancing on poles.  I’m pretty
sure this is not what God had in mind when he created Eve as Adam’s
helper.  Not one that I’ve talked to has convinced me that they
like their jobs.  Making a living by selling your body is not my
idea of fulfilling one’s God-given potential.
These
women don’t know that they are valued as human beings.  They are
more than just a tourist’s idea of a good time.  They often come
from families that are in need of money.  Some used to work in
factories that were shut down.  Some came from the smaller towns
in northern Thailand.  None of them really believes there are
other options. Some of them have been working in the bars for so long
that their job has become their only identity. They line the soi,
calling out to customers, gripping their arms and pulling them into
the bar, smelling of the shooters that the bar feeds them to keep
their emotions at bay. For many of the women, the drunkenness is the
only way they can work. The shame drowns in the vodka.
This
is the point where we see the women. This is where that new feminism
comes in. They have lost their identities. We want them to
rediscover who they are. We ask them what they would do if they
could do anything they wanted; if they could study anything they
wanted. They usually don’t have an answer to the second question,
because many of them never finished high school, so they don’t
believe they’re smart enough to go to a university. They always have
an answer for the first question, and it’s never related to their
current profession. SHE helps those women pursue that career. It
empowers them to find the job that their hearts long for. It
encourages them to be who they were created to be.
In the midst of the insanity of Bangla Road, it’s
so tempting to look at the men who are populating these bars, who are
walking down the street hand-in-hand with a girl we met an hour ago,
and think, “This is YOUR fault.”
But
is it?  When you see the same men out for lunch with the Thai
women, and you overhear a conversation, the one conclusion that
really makes sense for the most part is simple: A lot of these men
are simply looking for companionship; someone to talk to; someone to
listen to them; someone who (however superficially) makes them feel
valued.  For whatever reason, they aren’t getting that
companionship from the western society that they’re coming from,
whether it’s France, Australia, or the USA.  And I wonder, a
little bit, if it’s because they don’t feel that they have value back
at home.
Just
as women should be empowered to pursue their purpose, men deserve
that same encouragement. Strengthening women does not need to come
at the expense of the confidence of men, nor should that be the
inevitable or expected result. Maybe the feminist movement of the
baby boomers did some harm along with the good.  Maybe these men
were overpowered by women in their lives.  Maybe elements of our
quest for independence took away these men’s sense of purpose.  Maybe
that’s why they’re in Phuket, paying for coffee and conversation in a
Starbucks on the beach.
I’m
not saying that there aren’t men in the bars who are just there for
the sex.  I won’t lie, it’s out there.  It’s tragic, but it
happens. Nor am I condoning their behavior. If I did, I wouldn’t be
here in the first place.
I’m
also not saying anything against strong women.  All my
girlfriends from college are strong women. Right now, I’m surrounded
by thirteen of the strongest women I’ve ever met, and I absolutely
love and support them unconditionally.  They’re an inspiration
to me.  But there is a difference between strength in one’s own
identity, and strength at the expense of someone else’s.
Feminism
isn’t a four-letter word.  Say it.  Rolls off the tongue so
nicely.