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When I hear the word “feminism,” I think of a big party.  I am wearing a crimson silk cocktail dress, sitting on a leopard print sofa laughing and having a conversation with Eve Ensler and Gloria Steinem.

In the Vagina Monolgues, there is a piece called “Reclaiming Cunt.”  I was recently in an acting class where a women chose to perform that piece.  She had been in productions of the Vagina Monologues before, but had never been assigned that piece.  She performed it as though she was the leader of a Red Hat Society, and by the end, everyone in the class was screaming “cunt!”

We need to reclaim the word feminism.  I think it leaves a bad taste in the mouths of some.  I prefer my feminism to taste like dark chocolate with sea salt and caramel.

I was lucky enough to see Eve Ensler speak in person the night before she traveled to Michigan to perform the Vagina Monologues on the steps of the state capital.  She spoke of how we are at this turning point–women are rising up, all over the world.

I recently started rereading Manifesta: young women, feminism, and the future.  It is a powerful book that I first read as a junior in college.  The dedication reads:

“To feminists everywhere–including those of our generation who say, ‘I’m not a feminist, but…’ and other who say. ‘I am a feminist, but…’ –with the faith that young women will transform the world in ways we haven’t yet imagined.”

Feminism is a cause, it’s true.  But it’s also a party.  A celebration of women.  And YOU are invited.  Wear your favorite outfit, grab a glass of wine.  Dance, sing, rejoice.  Join One Billion Rising. And finally, unapologetically, take your space in this world.

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