That "F" word.

No, not that "F" word.

I'm talking about feminism.

Yeah, you heard me.

That word, and more so the ideas behind it, have gotten a bad rap. Regardless who is to blame, from men to women themselves to the media, it's reality.

While in the Western world we exist in a far more equitable space than most, it is by no means equal.

Don't roll your eyes. Numbers prove it.

In provincial legislatures and our federal House of Commons, representation of female politicians has stalled at around 21 per cent. That number hasn't budged since the late 1980s.

As much as we would like to deny it, government policy and decisions govern the way in which we live our lives. They set the rules. Who are 'they'? As I stated above, 'they' are vastly male.

Now, I'm not male-bashing here. Don't get me wrong, I love men. They're fantastic. In oh-so many ways.

But in allowing them, almost solely, to determine public policy we are silencing nearly half of our dynamic population.

I had lunch with two such dynamic women today. Neither of which aspire to be politicians whatsoever, but they are strong, funny, successful women.

We got to talking about careers, relationships and ultimately men and women, as per usual.

Specifically, these women both expressed how they've struggled with finding men who are comfortable enough with themselves to be with a woman who has opinions, money and the drive to take care of herself.

One of these women is married, the other in a new relationship but both have had their trials and tribulations in the dating world. We'd had similar conversations this past summer and fall, but maybe my Women, Gender and Politics class has really been sinking in.

I can't seem to stagger over the fact that in nearly 2010, a large number of men still are uncomfortable with this type of self-sufficient woman.

It's not entirely their fault, though.

Our society, with practices like privileging men in 'top jobs' such as cabinet positions and CEO executives, perpetuates the idea that women in power is a strange, rare phenomenon. Unnatural and unlikely. So when it happens, my dear media has a 'fetish for firsts' as it's named by feminist scholars and reports on things like first female prime ministers, as a novelty.

So it's really no wonder when organized, hilarious, determined and driven women, like my two lunch dates, have a hard time being accepted as equals in both their public and private lives.

But guess what? What makes them so fantastic is that they are who they are. Unapologetically.
The world - men, women and anyone else - is just going to have to deal with it.

"I'm strong and I'm comfortable with being strong and I like that I'm strong. And if that is too much woman for you, if that makes your junk feel tiny, I'm not going to make myself smaller. I'm not going to put myself in a box, so that you feel like a big man. I am a big woman and you either get used to it - or you get out." - Charlotte King, Private Practice

I live in a country that vastly forgets it’s at war.


Sure, headlines pop up every now and then about when (and if) Canada will pull out or when a solider loses their life, like the tragic story this week of 24 year-old Steven Marshall, we see a stock photo of a ramp ceremony.

But how often do we realize that men and women are risking their lives, their personalities, their futures, for others – you, me, Afghans, and those who live in oppression around the world?

Our troops in Afghanistan aren’t peacekeepers. They are combat trained, helicopter flying, admirable, tough soldiers.


And at 21, going on 22 years-old, these soldiers are my peers.

Last summer, when Canada lost it’s 88th solider in the Afghanistan conflict, that fact truly hit me, right in the heart.


I cried for someone I’d never met. He was the good friend of a classmate and I cried for the aching loss that his friends and family were suffering thorough.

James was 25. I knew men just like him. Fun loving, dedicated, sweet, brave, strong, determined and ambitious men.


Men I care about. Men that have been and are a part of my life.

I thought of one man in particular when I cried for James, who at the time was on course with the Canadian Forces two provinces away.


One that I drank coffee with while bickering about politics, pop culture and music.

A man whose pick up truck I sat in while eating Twerps, listening to stand up comedy in a parking lot.


A young man who gave me goosebumps when he kissed me in the warmth of his truck, safe from the rain outside while Doc Walker played in our ears.

This man is leaving for a year term in Afghanistan to serve his country. This man just entered his 20s.


He's ready and willing to go half way around the world and fight for this country's honour and freedom. For our honour and freedom. For my ability to chase dreams, write for a media free of fear, restrictions and consequence for truth.

He’s honest about being scared but admits it hasn’t entirely hit him yet. He speaks of death with a dark but honest humour. He faces the reality of war with a smirk, the crack of a joke and an acceptance of his life choices. He has told me on many occasions that if he is going to die young, he wants to die doing something he believes in.


So, so many men and women have been taken out of this world through military conflict.
And when I hear another has left this life and is coming home in a flag-draped casket, I always think about them in terms of this man.

They were all individuals with favourites and great loves and fantastic stories. There were not just statistics as reported in the media that I'm a part of.


I think of them all as someone like him. Happy go lucky. A truck singing, beer drinking, hard working, genuine person. The kind of man, that when he barely knows you, will stay with you all night and into the morning while you're at your lowest low in trying to deal with other people's problems in a hotel hallway. And sing to you at 3 a.m. and just... be there.

I don’t understand the motive or desire to go to war, but I understand that I admire it. And appreciate it.


Having the opportunity to know this person I write about, who has made these choices, has changed the way I think about life. He has pushed me intellectually and emotionally but mostly he’s made me think about how precious life is. He, by being the person he is and making the decisions he has, forces me to remember to savour moments.

Life isn't just about how many breaths you take. It's about the moments that take your breath away.


Come what may, good, bad and otherwise until we are drinking coffee and bickering about politics in August 2010, I'll consider myself lucky to know this man and think of him as someone who took my breath away.