The Feminist I’m Not Sure I Want to Be.

I agree with many feminist ideals, but I’m not sure I’m a feminist.

There, i said it.

It’s not that I don’t believe in women’s rights, i do. I fiercely believe in our brilliance, autonomy, and capacity to thrive. But somewhere between hashtags and high-pitched shouting, I got confused. Feminism used to feel like a noble cause. Now, it feels like a party I wasn’t sure I was invited to, or want to attend.

Feminism seems to shapeshift: one minute it’s about equal pay, the next it’s about dismantling gender roles, critiquing men, or addressing power structures. While these are important, they sometimes feel far removed from the original goal of equal rights. The word has become slippery, a one-size-fits-all that doesn’t fit anyone perfectly. I like to know what I’m standing for. If feminism is about giving women a voice and challenging systems that silence us, then I’m all in. But if it’s about pretending men and women are identical, I have questions.

Here’s one: if feminism is about choice, why do I feel judged for choosing things that don’t look “revolutionary”? Why do I have to explain why I don’t want to split bills with a man or why I think being a wife and mother is powerful? I want to work, not to mimic men, but to build and create. Why is that not enough?

We talk about “equality,” but do we even know what that means? Does it mean sameness? If so, we’re on the wrong track. A man is not a woman, and a woman is not a man. That’s biology. Culture? Systems? Those are where oppression lies, not biology.

In the part of the world I come from, Africa, chasing equality feels like fitting a square peg into a round hole. Equality is often interpreted as everyone doing the same thing the same way, but why does that erase our essence? What we need is not equality, but equity. Equity recognizes that men and women are different biologically and in how we navigate the world, but neither difference makes one superior. It’s about giving each of us the resources and opportunities we need to thrive, in our own way.

Equity means not forcing women into molds they weren’t made for. It’s about freedom, the freedom to be a mother, a leader, a businesswoman, or all of them, without shame. It’s not about sameness, but ensuring the door to opportunity is open, regardless of how we choose to walk through it.

Feminism means different things to different people. For some, it’s about radical change. For others, subtle shifts in power. What’s liberating to one woman may feel restrictive to another. Yet somehow, we’re all supposed to wear the same feminist crown.

Somewhere along the way, we confused roles with value. Just because I’m the one expected to cook doesn’t mean I’m worth less. Yes, many of these roles are cultural, but some things just work. If we want change, let’s approach it with wisdom, not spite.

Modern feminism seems to have shifted from liberation to mimicry. Now, we must work, speak, love, and exist like men to be validated. The soft woman is silenced. The nurturing woman ridiculed. The woman who chooses family over a career is called a traitor. Feminism, in its current form, has grown suspicious of traditional roles. But wasn’t choice the foundation of this movement?

There’s nothing liberating about forcing women into ambitions they don’t want. There’s nothing revolutionary about mocking women who choose to be wives or mothers. And no, I’m not referring to the 1950s caricature of womanhood. I’m talking about the women who understand the power of presence, the audacity of softness, and the sacredness of care.

Modern feminism struggles with nuance. It bristles at the idea that difference does not mean inferiority. Gender roles, while shaped by culture, also speak to something deeply biological. Yes, culture can oppress, but not all structure is oppression. Sometimes, tradition is wisdom passed down in code. The struggle is understanding that difference doesn’t imply lesser, and we must find a way to uplift without erasing.

Let’s speak plainly: men and women are not the same. This isn’t an insult, it’s biology. Yet modern feminism seems threatened by this fact, attempting to erase these differences rather than ask how both genders can thrive within them.

Then there’s religion. As a Muslim, I cannot engage in any ideological movement that denies the structure given to me by God. In Islam, men and women are not the same, but we are equal in value and dignity. Equality doesn’t mean sameness, and it shouldn’t.

It’s ironic that the same West that sold us feminism now sells us confusion. We import ideologies without questioning their origins. We feed on Western validation like it’s a religion, and what have we gained? More debates, more dissonance, less clarity. A generation louder, angrier, and lonelier.

So, no, i don’t call myself a feminist. I do not identify as one. I call myself a woman, one who knows her worth. I believe in rights and responsibilities, not rivalry. I believe in equity, not forced equality. I believe in being cared for, loved, respected, and even protected.

We like to say “what a man can do, a woman can do better.” But must she? Do we always have to prove ourselves by mimicking what we claim to be tired of? There’s power in simply being who we are, no mirror, no mimicry, no masculinity required.

I believe in women’s rights. I’m a writer for women; it’s the core of my work. I’ll fight for the girls denied education, the women beaten into silence, the systems that treat our gender like a footnote. But I won’t pretend feminism hasn’t lost some focus. It’s loud, yes, but noise isn’t always clarity.

So, am I a feminist? I do not know.

Maybe I’m just a woman who wants to think, speak, love, work, rest, submit, rise, nurture, lead, and be left alone to decide what all that looks like for me.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s what feminism was supposed to be about all along.