Before They Called Her a Feminist, They Called Her a Witch

Feminism — a word that has replaced witches

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

In the 15th and 16th centuries, tens of thousands of women were executed across Europe and colonial America — not for crimes, but for independence. For healing people with herbs. For owning land. For speaking too loudly in a room full of men. The charge was witchcraft. The real offense was selfhood.

Think about that woman for a moment. Not as a historical footnote, but as a person.

She woke before sunrise. She worked she thought. She had opinions that made sense, a nd because of that, she was deemed dangerous. Because she was opinionated and independent, she was considered a witch.

Of course, it had to be sorcery that a woman would be self-sufficient in a time when women couldn’t own anything, when they were property themselves. You couldn’t be seen on your own without a chaperone. If you clocked twenty and above without a suitor, you were expired milk.

But you can only hold a person down for so long.

Eventually, they have to fight to get back up. It’s basic instinct for any living thing to find a way to survive, especially when you’re being trodden down by your own kind.

We changed the word. We did not change the instinct.

Today, she is called a feminist. And the word is still spat out, still used like an accusation, still attached to the idea that something must be wrong with her. That she is too angry, too bitter, too much. That she must have been hurt by someone, somewhere, to have ended up like this.

But ask yourself honestly: does hurt require trauma to be valid?

Trauma rarely arrives as a single thunderclap. It arrives as repetition.

Being talked over. Being paid less for the same work, told to shrink your ambition until it fits neatly inside someone else’s comfort.

According to the World Health Organization, 1 in 3 women worldwide has experienced physical or sexual violence, most often at the hands of an intimate partner. In sub-Saharan Africa, that number climbs higher.

Globally, women earn an average of 20% less than men for the same work. Women still make up less than 27% of national parliamentarian’s worldwide, despite being half the population.These are not feelings. These are measurements.

And yet, when a woman names these things, when she says this is not right — she is told she is the problem.

The Burden of Being Called “Weaker”

You say we are not to speak. Be seen but not heard. Sometimes not to be seen at all.

We work, but we should give you credit for it. We can’t own a bank account for our own hard-earned money, can’t have a say in how to spend it. I work with a male co-worker all day, and he is paid three times what I’m paid — simply because he is a man. What if I’m also the breadwinner in my own home?

Weaker sex, you call us.

But we rise before dawn to prepare things for you and are usually the last to sleep. We combine domestic work with outside work, while you only do outside work and come back to boss us around.

They say childbirth is one of the greatest pains. Many have died, and are still dying, from pregnancy and childbirth-related complications. Yet I’m being forced to go through it to give you your desired number of children. And if I mention my fears, I am called selfish. Told I’m worthless for refusing to risk my life.

I can’t even have a say in what goes on with my own body. I have to get a man’s approval for everything.

There is a strange contradiction in being called the weaker sex while carrying burdens that rarely allow rest. Survival teaches endurance, we have learnt that the hard way.

Photo by Vasiliki Theodoridou on Unsplash

The Girl Who Wanted to Be a Pilot

Picture a girl, maybe eight years old.

She is bright, asks questions in class before anyone else raises a hand. She wants to be a pilot.

Then, slowly, something begins to happen. Not loudly. It is not a single moment you could point to later.

• It is the uncle who says, “Girls don’t need to be too educated.”
• The school that channels boys into science and girls into home economics.
• The job she gets years later, where her male colleague with less experience earns three times her salary.
• The marriage where her voice gets smaller every year.
• The doctor who dismisses her pain because women exaggerate.

No single moment broke her. The accumulation did.

Then I start to ask: why are we so restricted?

The difference between male and female, other than reproductive organs and physical strength, isn’t really much.

• If God wanted me to be quiet, He would have made me dumb.
• If He wanted us to be robots and only do what we are told, He wouldn’t have bothered to give us brains that works.

Why then am I not allowed to run or swim when I have legs that are itching to run or take laps? Why can’t I become a doctor? We literally see blood every month.

Eventually, I speak up. We speak up.

Allow us to live. We are humans too, not domestic toys.

If I want to do something, don’t tell me I can’t simply because I have breasts. Give me the same chance you would give my male counterpart. If I try and find out it is not my cup of tea, then so be it. But don’t tell me I am not allowed to.

Feminism does not come from hatred of men. It begins as a question. A quiet one.

Why can he decide, but she must ask? Why is her competence surprising, but his is expected? Why does speaking feel like risk?

Feminism is also born from love.

Love of self. Love of daughters. Love of the women who came before and suffered so we might have slightly more room to breathe.

It is the insistence that a person born with a womb deserves the same dignity as a person born without one. That she can walk home at night, decide how many children she has, and be believed when she says something hurts — without needing permission from anyone.

We Have Progress, but Not Equality

After years of speaking up, we have a comfortable range of rights. But not everybody has it equal. Some are still being stripped of them. And when I open my mouth to speak for my sister who has been shut up, I am called a bitter feminist.

Feminism is now viewed through the lens of trauma.

I am not traumatized, I am bitter.

I just don’t understand why you think she cannot live on her own, earn money, have a say, move around without fear of harassment. You do it; Why can’t she? Why can’t I?

You need me. I need you too.

You claim a world without women would be colourless, chaotic, and drab, and I agree that I need your strength and input. But why is it that when we are with you, making your world colourful and worth living, you decide to suck out my joy?

More women die at the hands of their male partners or relatives than from wild animal attacks, or accidents. Why shouldn’t I be traumatized by such statistics?

Feminism doesn’t mean I hate a man. It simply speaks to equality, and if you are offended that I am a feminist, it means you are an enslaver.

I am not demanding dominance. Just space enough to exist without apology, and if asking to be heard still feels like defiance…what does that say about the world we are still living in?

Author’s note: This was a draft for a combined project with another writer on Substack. He wanted something more “in the feelings.” This one seemed too brash to him. Well, I can’t waste a good draft. Here’s another day to remind you what feminism is. And if you hate a woman for being a feminist, that’s on you…

Thank you for staying with me till the end. If you want to read more stories from me, click to get an email whenever Merena Gabriel publishes.

Below are more stories you may like…

[embed]How Patriarchy and Culture Fuel Paternity Fraud A system that pressures women to bear sons — at any cost — shouldn’t be surprised when they find a waymedium.com

[embed]Surviving a Rising Act Vignette Gazette Writer’s Prompt #135 — Escalate & Relocatemedium.com

Edited for Restless Quills by Wandering Mind