You meet her almost every day. That girl at the Take Back The Night Rally who knew how to grab a megaphone and go; that insightful contributor in Women's Studies 101; the new recruit with loads of spunk at your activist meeting. She's fuckin' awesome, she might even have spiky hair.

And then those dreaded words fall out, dropping like little unanticipated turds from the hamster you cuddled through a childhood tragedy. "I'm not a feminist, but..."

You recoil in horror, and this time you have the friends to back you up. Afraid of the f-word! But she wants equal pay and equal rights! You must save her life. Together, you and your avowedly feminist compatriots will do it. Go get her!

Figure it out. Deal with it. It's a common problem, and the purpose of this piece is not to minimize its importance.

Reread the title and decide if you want to invest the five minutes. But I dare suggest that we've got a problem within our own utopian young "feminist" community. We're embracing the f-word and then telling major chunks of ourselves to f-off. And I'm not the only one who's f-ing sick of it, okay?

Feminist group think

Are you concerned by the putative resurgence of Liz Phair? Did you grow up on Sassy? Have you ever stopped shaving your legs? Or considered that hot dagger piercing between the chin and lower lip? Vocalize them, show them, bleed them; your street cred will go way up, sister.

But, isn't it just a little odd that the young women raising proud voices in a movement that tells them they can be who they want to be are putting in so much effort to be...just like each other?

I mean really, what's happening here? Feminists are some of the most creative, dedicated, delightfully unique individuals I've ever met. But we get together and fall into the same kind of belonging trap that everyone else our age does. Let the preps take Abercrombie and the hipsters Urban Outfitters; we've got wherever the hell it is young feminists shop, when they're not protesting the fascism of retail mania and beauty myths.

Lipstick, Vogue, and other forbidden pleasures

I am the President of Minnesota NOW, a member of National NOW's Young Feminist Task Force, and a Women's Studies major who conquered professional employment (yes, tell your parents). And I swear it, sometimes getting ready for activist meetings is more stressful than the hours before prom. Will I look feminist enough? Will I sound feminist enough? What if I slip and use gendered speech?

The truth is I have a tendency to dress and comport myself differently when I'm with other feminists. Consciously. I'm not the only one.

Witness: Tammy* (*names changed to protect the innocent), a newer activist, my age. Not afraid of the f-word, but afraid to wear the skirts and heels she loves to an activist gathering. We blushed when we ran into each other at the gym.

Witness: Alice, another f-bomber who loves to use the word "like" when certain others aren't listening. She loves Mean Girls and, after we've figured out how to win the next election cycle, thinks we should go for a group viewing.

Though it might prove fun, I'm not arguing that we young feminists should band together and take over the TRL studio some afternoon. But we don't need to write ourselves out of popular culture, or deny the parts of ourselves that don't fit into the third wave feminist mold. As women, we don't want to be given any mold. That's the whole point.

No more buts...

As social beings, our community is starting to look pretty homogenous. There are delightful exceptions. But I argue that, as long as we stay unified around the bedrock principles of our movement, who we are as social actors doesn't mean shit to our efficacy as activists.

I'm a feminist, but...I like to wear sequins; I cry for implausible Lifetime Television for Women plots; I've noticed that I am actually less rational during the onset of my menses. I'm fighting for equal rights. I'm fighting for the right to be me. Funny; I said something to this effect the other day and heard another young woman in my passenger seat turn "I'm not a feminist, but..." into "I guess I am a feminist. Can I join?"

Note: While the author is a member of the National Organization for Women (NOW), she is speaking solely on her own behalf. But she would be delighted to have you join her in more serious feminist pursuits at now.org.