Neighbourhood feminism

It is not heroic to feel injustice as it affects you personally. It is understandable, but not noble. A woman confronted by the pervasive but subtle continued tilt of the rules against her; a black in a white dominated society. The feeling of being apart, and made less human because of it – and the righteous anger that it provokes.

Understandable, forgivable.

But not heroic.

What then is the journey of the Hero? What is the dragon that she must slay? It is fighting for the other. Nobility is reserved for those few who feel and bleed for their neighbour. The man who is a feminist, the white who fights for justice with his black brother, for the woman who refuses to participate in the projection of society’s shadow onto another “nation”.

Best summed up as – loving your neighbour. As yourself.

Oh boy, I find it tough. Personally. Love my neighbour, as myself? For most of my life I’ve believed – with my mind – in equality. Indisputable unless you believe we are only material. BUT. That’s not the same as – loving my neighbour as myself. Loving requires empathy. You don’t love an empty ideal. You need to be with, to sense, feel and bleed for – your neighbour. Specifically – the “other”. Love flows in the language of compassion, rather than intellect..

The journey of the Heroine requires us to share feeling with our neighbour. Seeing them – as ourself. (Namaste). To love them – as ourself. To fight for them with the same passion and intensity with which we fight the injustice practiced on – ourself.

Neighbourhood feminism. One of the two great commandments given to us (men) by Christ.