My route to feminism was a bit odd. I’ve always considered myself a feminist, before I even knew the word for it, but as with nearly everything kids do, I had a somewhat perverted view of what it meant.
I HATED pink. Pink was a girly colour, and I was a feminist, so I loved blue. Girls were dumb, so I strove to be the smartest in my class. Girls were meek, so I tried to be the biggest badass.
It took me quite a long time to understand that feminism is quite explicitly against this nonsense. That you can be a modern woman and like pink, or be shy, or anything else. I like to think I’ve grown past the views my 10-year-old self held, but there is nothing like a new experience to prove you wrong.
Enter, my first ever Zumba class.
Replacing rage with love 