Nobody likes the F-word. So F-that.

Words are powerful.
Ooh, Aah, what remarkable wisdom! How profound!

Okay, enough. That's not even accurate. Words are powerful, but their representations are what carry real weight. For example, people seem to think "feminism/t" exclusively means "radical, nose-ring wearing, lesbian, political, man-hating GRRRRRL" when in actuality, that isn't how Webster or the toilet paper of the Ivy League, Oxford, defines it. See, I don't want to get into what I really think feminism means, because, presently, that isn't what's at stake. Stay with me here.

We're talking about representation, remember?

Without getting into too much of a history of feminisms, I'd like to point out that there are many forms of this "u(e)ber-activism." Radical feminism, for one, emerged in the midst of the women's lib movement of the 1970s, but so did lesbian feminism.

That's for damn sure.

Liberal feminism is what pro-choice folks abide by, yet the only thing anyone can ever ask about any form of feminism is: So, they were the bra-burners, right? No. No, they weren't. Anyone who thinks feminists go around burning lingerie at Victoria's Secret, or once took off their bras and started bonfires on suburban streets in protest of helping their kids with math homework, well, I'm going to come over and set fire to your underwear draw(er).

Now, that I've made myself clear. This word--feminism--is scary and potentially alienating.

Last night, I had a nice discussion with one of my dear friends about getting a new license in New Jersey. I recalled the difficulty my grandmother, who has had a New Jersey driver's license since 1850, faced in renewing her license. New Jersey, ever savvy in anti-terrorist "safety" precautions, has implemented a six-point check, system, violation of privacy--whatever you want to call it--en route obtaining a new, digital, high-tech license.

Prior to 2003 (when this system was implemented), getting a license was damn easy! Anyone with a fake SSCard and birth certificate could walk away with one (or two, on a good day)! That's how I did it, anyway. But the immigrants and terrorists have been heading straight for the Garden State, and so we have to protect NJ residents. Even if it means people like my grandmother, who is from New Jersey, in her mid-70s, and loses most important documents she's ever had, find themselves unable to RETAIN their licenses. Minor detail.

Last week, I think I mentioned that I helped my grandmother with this "project." Her license had expired in late April, but she was unable to track down a birth certificate, and so had to acquire a number of other documents in order to get her birth certificate alone. A mess, you don't want to hear about it. When she had finally collected all the documents necessary to validate her identification, the bigwig (indeed, big) at the NJDMV HQ in Springfield told her she needed her marriage license in order to get her driver's license. Why, some might protest, would she need her marriage license? On the NJDMV ever-informative leaflet, it says, "REQUIREMENTS: At least one Primary Document; At Least One Secondary Document; Social Security Number (not even the card?); Proof of Address." But apparently those are the requirements for men (and children, and immigrants, probably) to get their licenses.

In a red-outlined box titled "IMPORTANT INFORMATION," a careful PMS-ing reader learns that if she has been married, she must prove she is who she is. This is where the conversation with my friend picked up. I casually remarked that this was sexist, however subtle, and she told me she thought it was just to ensure everyone is who they say they is. I mean, are.

But wouldn't your credit card have your married last name on it? Wouldn't your OLD LICENSE have your married last name on it? If it was OKAY for you to drive as a married person before your current license expired, WHY is it a problem now?

Let's say I was born in Delaware. Happily, I married in Delaware. My husband and I decided to not be feminists, so I took his last name. We decided New Jersey has more crime, so it'd be a nice place to live, and moved to Union, NJ. Okay. My husband gets his NJ license, no problem! Shows them a few forms of ID, he's set. I go to get my license, thinking I should have as little problem as good hubby, but I find that I need my marriage license. Why would I need my marriage license? New Jersey has only known me by my married last name; whyever would I need to prove this change in name--that happened in Delaware?

I presented this scenario to my friend, but she wasn't convinced. She said she didn't have time to think about these things, these political matters. I was blown away.

Political? What?!

I sat there wondering, Why should the government keep tabs on women's marital status? And she sat there wondering, Why should I care? It is how it is. (We all know I am somewhat of a mind-reader.)

Before she got out of the car, I told her that other people were working on being political so she didn't have to, but that standing in solidarity with a cause, even a bit, can help. On my way home, I realized I wasn't clear enough and I didn't really address what I should have:

You're never running away from "feminism" or "politics;" it's only awareness you're refusing to find and foster.

Women are afraid of feminism. (Duh?) I don't see myself as necessarily political or feminist. As I told someone special last night, "I am too fair-minded to be a feminist." But being AWARE of sexist policies is something entirely different.

When I told my friend I thought this marriage license policy was sexist, she asked, "Well shouldn't you be upset with the sexist society?" Correct, grasshopper. This policy I protest so proudly is symptomatic of the sexist society we live in; so, my question is: Does that mean we should accept it? Even if it's just symptomatic?

To me, treatment of symptoms, of representations of words, of sexist/racist/ageist/classist policies is where we must begin, even in our small ways. When we're aware of the symptoms of sexism et. al, we view our world differently and make decisions according to what's really in our best interest (as women, as non-white, middle-class males).

This leaves me with the question (my special friend and I mulled over): Is it my responsibility, as an aware (I hope) person, to educate or raise awareness in my peers?

I say yes, but then, who am I to say I am aware?

Ooh, Aah, wisdom? Profound?