Dirty feminism and why I'm scared to be vulnerable

Part of me is like, duh I'm a feminist at heart, and the other part is wondering if we could give it a different name..?

The question echoing in my mind for the past weeks: Why is it so scary to be vulnerable? And what does 'dirty feminism' have to do with it?

Before I lay bare my soul today, THANK YOU to all the new and familiar faces that joined the Soft & Strong community 💛

Many of you texted, commented and opened up about your own journey. And yes, one individual took the liberty to mansplain that businesses led with softness are straight up doomed for failure. Well, let’s prove him wrong.

I'll be honest, crafting today's newsletter—the inaugural 'real' edition—was a battle. I procrastinated for days, my ambitious perfectionist (old) self yearning for a flawless masterpiece. I needed it to single handedly eradicate all century old societal patriarchal barriers and catapult me to overnight Substack fame too.

Yep, still grappling with my relentless pursuit of perfection.

Then I reminded myself—this is an experiment in softness, and perfection doesn't align with the very essence of this journey.

[Those of you new here, I'm experimenting with being more soft in business and life and broadcasting my vulnerability to the world. > check out the intro post]

So, while my softness experiment might be encountering some hiccups, it has shown me how 'my feminism,’ as early as 10 years old, completely shaped how I show up as a grown woman today, and it wasn't all flowers and rainbows.

Let me take you back to high school, where 10-year-old Valerie is kicking a soccer ball with her gang of boys. Simultaneously a big nerd, competing fiercely for the best grades. But studiousness wasn't very cool at that age.

Neither were girls that sat together in the school's courtyard in their perfectly pressed dresses, sharing giggles.

I resented these girls.

Why weren't they brave enough to join us on the soccer field? Was giggling and looking pretty all they were interested in?

I decided early on that girls could not look pretty and be ambitious at the same time - so I dressed like a boy and wondered when my crush would see into the depth of my soul and interpret our shared sense of fashion as a clear sign of a meeting of like minded genius?!

Needless to say, that strategy flopped spectacularly. 

While I eventually let my mum guide me to the girls' department during shopping trips, I clung to the belief that women of substance, those destined to change the world, were above the silliness of feminine interests. Why waste time on makeup or hair when destined for a Nobel Peace Prize? (Ok, I did shave.)

Growing up in Germany when smartphones and the internet were still novel, my exposure to international media was limited. My notion of so-called feminism was informed by the woman around me, most notably my mother and grandmother.

Even though my grandma worked in fashion and my mum showered me with love and attention, there was little display of, or seemingly even time for, vulnerability. These woman seemed to have their shit together, never complained, and were well liked in their respective communities.

Toughness came naturally to me.

After moving abroad and enrolling in an international school (#privilege), I was exposed to more media and cultures. The idea of feminism, which initially had just been a feeling to me, started to get a face. One that made me highly uncomfortable.

The publicized face of feminism I discovered was one of anger and discontent —a stark contrast to the practiced feminism I knew. I had been taught not to draw too much (negative) attention to myself and to keep my public image in check.

Mainstream feminism, as portrayed in the media, felt dirty and aggressive. While I was angered by gender (and racial) injustices too, I wasn't ready to risk my good girl image by joining protests and burning my bra.

The F-(eminism) word is triggering for a lot of people, and yes, myself included. It carries with it tales of bloody rebellion, 'man-hate', and out-of-control woman fighting to overturn a system.

In reality, feminism is nothing more than "the advocacy of women's rights on the basis of the equality of sexes". Complete no-brainer, right?

Absolutely crazy to think we're still 'fighting' this thing, because let's be honest, we're not even close to inclusive feminism. Yet, I feel that for privileged white women like me, the 'fight' has become centered around personal fear.

Fear of not getting it quite right when I speak my mind. Fear of appearing weak at work and reinforcing the assumption that women aren't made for the tough business world. And it's even deeper than that. It's a fear of being visible, like really visible in my most authentic expression, and exposing who I actually am, what I actually feel, to a world that doesn't always feel safe.

There lies uncertainty in vulnerability, because when I let my guard down, I am no longer in control of other people's reactions. Vulnerability risks people uncovering my 'act' and seeing right through my perfectionist costume.

Surprisingly, leaning more into softness has shown me that I really enjoy not always having my shit together, that I relish in not having all the answers as it opens me up for continuous learning, and that safety found in toughness is an illusion.

Embracing vulnerability has also exposed more of my wildness, the kind of wildness that lies dormant in all woman, the place where I'd argue our real power lies. That wildness is messy. It's unpredictable, raw and imperfect.

But you know what, I refuse to any longer have my wildness be extinguished by the pursuit of like-ability, and fitting into the perfectionist mold of the ambitious woman that has it all together. Does that make me more or less of a (dirty) feminist? Well, whatever.

I'm learning that vulnerability opens up new avenues for connection, growth and continuous learning if only we are brave enough to be it. It's so much easier to act tough and accomplished in today's world, than to be our wild authentic imperfect selves and accept that personal growth is, god forbid, a never ending journey until the rest of our days...

Soft (and wild) is the new strong 🤘🏽

Love, Valerie

ps. Let me know if today's letter resonates with you down in the comments, text me, disagree or even mansplain me. Anything goes, as long as we R.E.S.P.E.C.T. 🎶

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My favorite book this month

My favorite quote this month

"Vulnerability is not winning or losing; it's having the courage to show up and be seen when we have no control over the outcome." - Brené Brown

If you enjoy reading this post, do share it with friends, a colleague or your grandma ❤️