For a long time, it was a bad word. It meant angry–radical–abortion supporter–man-hating–and, perhaps worst of all, dark business suits with big shoulder pads. It was the woman I never wanted to be, the promiscuous party girl and corporate high-flyer who disdained motherhood, or shipped her kids off to a nanny.

Yet today, I will tell you boldly (with humility and grace, I hope) that yes – I am a feminist.

And you are, too.

(Probably.)

While I did (and probably do) have some anger, I arrived here without becoming any of the things I feared and disdained. I still love pink and decorating and babies and fashion. My relationship with my husband looks quite traditional, in many ways (I hate driving. He likes driving. Guess who drives most of the time?) Often, I’m the traditional feminine “feeler” and he’s the traditional masculine “thinker.” So what does…