How Failing a Math Test Made Me A Feminist

If you ask my parents how they raised me to become such an ardent believer in equal rights and feminism they will give you this answer: We don’t know. We’re actually pretty sure we didn’t have much to do with it.

And they would be mostly right. My parents didn’t really raise me with the intention of turning me into a feminist. Neither my mother nor father ever openly identified as a feminist when I was growing up, and I doubt they would now. We didn’t talk about reproductive rights or the glass ceiling or domestic violence. Feminism never came up at the dinner table. No one was reading books about it. There was no household subscription to Ms. magazine and there were no pro-choice bumper stickers on the back of the cars. My parents just weren't openly feminist and they weren't out to make me one. Now, that’s not to say my parents didn’t raise me to believe all people were created equal, but they had no intention to make me a feminist and, in fact, I think it might have shocked them a little when I began applying that word to myself in high school.

That’s what lead my mother to ask me a few days ago where all of these beliefs came from which got me thinking about my "click" moment, that minute when it all started. Eventually I reached a pretty obvious realization. If it hadn't been my family, it had to have been my teachers. Of course, when I reported this discovery my mom assumed that meant my women’s studies teacher in high school, but by the time she had me in class I already believed in feminism. She didn’t teach me the beliefs and principles; she just gave me the words for it and allowed me to own and embrace my feminism while fleshing out my exact beliefs on different issues.

So I thought back a little further in my education. If by high school I was already identifying as a feminist, then that meant it must have started in middle school or even elementary school. I examined my memories of middle school, but nothing stood out. Even then I think I was already a feminist despite not having labeled it yet.

That left elementary school. Finally, a memory jumped out. Fourth grade. I had consistently been the smartest girl in the class. Actually I tended to be the smartest person out of the boys and girls. And that was a problem for fourth grade me. After being the only person to get straight As for two quarters I was starting to feel the pressure to be “normal.” My classmates thought I was weird and I knew it. Everyone knew girls weren’t supposed to be the smart ones and they definitely weren't supposed to be good at math! Sure, my classmates told me I was smart, but they also told me I was a freak, I was unusual so I did what any fourth grader would do. I deliberately failed a math test. And, then, I failed another. That was all it took to get a B and just one was enough for me. That was all I needed. Suddenly I was like everyone else and I wasn’t beating the boys anymore. I had done it. I had achieved my goals! I was normal!

Unfortunately, I was fooling no one, least of all my math teacher, Mrs. Schulter. It didn’t take her long to figure things out. She’d seen girls with my MO before and she wouldn’t stand for it. It only took one B for her to sit me down and tell me I was better than that and that she could see right through my act. And because she terrified me like no other teacher before or since, it worked. I shaped up and was back to straight As in no time.

That was all it took to make me a feminist: One woman telling young, impressionable me that I was allowed to be the smartest person in a room even if I was a girl. There was nothing wrong with me being smart; there was something wrong with the people telling me that was bad. That was it. From that moment on I realized I could be what I wanted to be and I could be the best at it. And what I wanted was to equal to the boys. I’ve never stopped wanting it and I’ve never stopped fighting for it.

So, thank you, Mrs. Schulter, the most terrifying woman I’ve ever met, for allowing me to be the best and for making me a feminist, whether you meant to or not.

"House of Cards" Holds Up from the Feminist Perspective

Disclaimer: This contains spoilers for Netflix’s House of Cards.

This August I succumbed to the pressure to watch Netflix’s original series House of Cards. At first, I was skeptical. How was I supposed to enjoy this show when I hated every single one of the characters? However, I’ll admit I was pleasantly surprised after the first two or three episodes because this show knows how to write well-developed female characters better than most. That, combined with the many well-developed and complex stories and the mounting desire to see Kevin Spacey’s House Majority Whip Frank Underwood stumble, kept me clicking the next episode button long after episode two.

First of all, as I mentioned before, I hate every one of the characters on this show including the women. They’re just as despicable and conniving as the men. That’s refreshing because, for once, women are not the moral compass. Each of the female characters is just as richly flawed and devious as the men. While I focus most of my ire on Frank Underwood, I find that his wife Claire is nearly as morally deficient and, over the season, began to compete with Frank for the object of my disgust. The lack of morality in the female characters doesn’t stop with Claire, though. Other main characters, like Zoe Barnes, and secondary characters, like Linda Vasquez and Gillian Cole, demonstrated their potential to be just as calculating and deceptive as any of the men. Each of these women is just as likely to commit a crime, tell a lie, or make some other ethically questionable decision in the pursuit of their goals and in the pursuit of power, the main thematic element of the show. I can’t emphasize enough how nice it is to watch a show where the female characters are not burdened and made boring by their stereotypical job as the conscience for the brooding male protagonists.

There’s more to like about House of Cards than the cliché-free female characters, though. In fact, one of the best parts of the show is its exploration of power dynamics. At first, it seems much of the power that the women hold is derived from the male characters. Zoe is fed information by Frank, Linda is only the chief of staff as long as the president wants her, and Claire accomplishes many professional pursuits through her relationship with the majority whip and powerful lobbyists. It isn’t until Congressional staffer Christina leaves Congressman Peter Russo, professionally and personally, in episode 4 that the tables start to turn. Suddenly, one of the women holds the power over one of the men and soon everything starts to change. Not long after, Zoe quits her job and successfully catches her boss in the act of sexual harassment on the way out. Before the season ends Zoe has broken off her ties to Frank and Claire has begun to experiment with her own ways of breaking from his power. By the season finale, Zoe and fellow reporter Janine are investigating Frank and Christina is single-handedly running a Congressional office and looking for a candidate to fill Peter’s seat. While the men’s worlds are coming crumbling down, the women are experiencing a liberation of sorts and suddenly the audience starts to have someone to cheer for, if only, because the success of the women will lead to the eventual downfall of the particularly underhanded Frank Underwood.

Despite these virtues, House of Cards does leave some things to be desired. First of all, the casting of an Indian-American woman as Linda Vasquez, a Latina, is problematic in nature particularly because Vasquez’s race is not left up to question. It is clearly stated in the first episode that she is Latina. Imposing an untrue cultural identity on a person is not acceptable. The casting is specifically problematic because Vasquez’s racial identity is a major aspect of her character. Part of her importance comes from the fact that she is purportedly the first Latina to be the White House Chief of Staff. Furthermore, the casting becomes more problematic if you consider the present shortage of substantive television roles for Latina actresses. If you are going to write an explicitly Latina character, it is only right that that role should go to a Latina woman. Additionally, a particularly alarming story telling choice from the feminist perspective arises from the story of Gillian Cole. At first her character is relatively unthreatening and unproblematic but when she chooses to invent remarks Claire supposedly made about Gillian’s pregnancy in order to sue she undermines the position of women everywhere. Pregnant women already face undue burden in the workplace. To suggest that they lie about it to gain advantage threatens pregnant women everywhere who actually are discriminated against because of their condition. However, the most problematic element of the show is the lack of women in power. The show depicts a Washington scene that is still shockingly devoid of women in positions of serious political power. With the exception of White House chief of staff Linda Vasquez, House of Cards lacks any women in major political positions, particularly elected ones. In a fictional world, where the majority whip has a frankly unimaginable amount of power and most crimes go undetected, is that much of a stretch to place women in more positions of real political power?

All in all, House of Cards presents a strong example of how to write complex female characters and the women’s liberation story line is a refreshing one to see on television. From the intersectional feminist perspective, it is one of the better shows on television though it does not hold up against a show like Orange is the New Black. While hugely impressive, House of Cards still has room to improve.