When I was a young girl, I–like many other girls my age–grew up under the impression that in order to be a powerful, independent woman, you had to be a Disney princess. At the time, I simply didn’t realize that you could be strong, clever, and valued without conventional beauty or also having diplomatic powers over a small seaside town or a bustling Arabian kingdom.

These princesses served as my flawed introduction to female empowerment. As I got older, I discovered authors such as Gloria Steinem and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, women whom I grew to admire for both their intellect and mission. What struck me most, however, was their unapologetic use of the F-Bomb, whether it was through televised speeches or the written word.

And no, I am not referring to a certain four-letter-word. The F-Bomb that they used, time and time again, isn’t nearly as culturally accepted.

Feminist.

These women identify as feminists and urge people to do the same. Before Emma Watson or Malala Yousafzai entered the picture, encouraging young adults of both genders to make gender equality a priority, I grew up believing that if they identified as feminist, they were putting women on a pedestal. I did not give myself permission to be empowered, and I was not the only one.

I was heavily influenced by the ideas and attitudes of my peers, who assumed that feminism was a dirty word, synonymous with man-hater–a direct contradiction of the literature that I had become so fond of.

We as members of the Parker community need to change that mentality. We need to allow young adults to give themselves permission to identify as people who believe in the social, political, and economic equality of the sexes because, in reality, that is what being a feminist truly is.

Literature can and should help us do that. For example, take “Mock Orange,” by Louise Glück, an American poet who–in addition to winning a Pulitzer Prize for Poetry–visited Parker last year.

The poem in question is a pastoral about female sexuality and gender roles that I have spent the better part of six weeks analyzing, interpreting, and studying for my English class. It compares the narrator’s view on a woman’s sexuality to mock orange, a flowering shrub that received its name due to the fact that it smells almost identical to orange blossom.

Glück writes, “I hear the question and pursuing answer/fused in one sound/that mounts and mounts and then/is split into the old selves,/the tired antagonisms.”

The imagery here is of new union followed by old opposition.  And these “tired antagonisms” are felt not only by Glück, but by women worldwide–women who want to be paid as much as their male counterparts and whose reproductive rights are seen as immoral. This international epidemic does not, however, solely affect those over the age of eighteen.

As soon as they are able put on their clothes without assistance, girls are taught that the way they dress is an indicator of their worth. Across the globe, cases of civil unrest and gender-based discrimination prevent them from receiving the education that they are entitled to.

At Parker we are taught that every member of the community has a voice. But we as women are also taught a set of unwritten rules, rules that influence everything from our reputations to the way we watch our drinks.

Throughout the poem, Glück uses mock orange as a symbol of falseness. She writes, “We were made fools of/And the scent of mock orange/drifts through the window.” As a woman, the moment you realize that double standards exist is almost a rite of passage. The moment of finally smelling the false promise of equality granted to us by lawmakers and classmates alike, the moment the “scent of mock orange/ drifts through the window” and we realize “we were made fools of,” is a turning point. It certainly was for me.

The truth of the matter is that women need feminism. Men need feminism. Children need feminism. Gender equality, just like racial equality, is a human right that cannot be denied or withheld.

The representation and opportunity for social analysis that literature offers is priceless, and should be seen and taught as such. Whether it be through fictional protagonists, feminist authors, or eloquent poets, we need to teach young adults–especially women–that it is okay to identify as feminist. That it is more than okay–that it is necessary.

Glück ends the poem as follows: “How can I rest?/ How can I be content/when there is still/that odor in the world?”
She can’t. And quite frankly, neither can we.