Confessions of a Flawed Feminist

Tonight, as I allowed my male cat to abuse me physically and verbally, I started thinking about all the parts of my life that could be interpreted as antifeminist. I try and of course I really do believe in the tenets of feminism, like equal pay for equal work, gay rights, reproduction rights, etc. How, then, do I explain the "Melrose Place" on my TV and the Usher cd in my car? What am I supposed to do about the fact that I like men's basketball with an unbridled passion and women's basketball strikes me as sort of creepy? And then there are the soaps, which I will defend one day, lament the next, and then ignore for the next week. That's an issue for another blog entirely.

I know these women who eat organic food, make their own clothes, read feminist magazines, and always know what's going on in Chilé—where, by the way, they just elected the nation's first female president, whose cabinet is half men, half women. I find it hard to believe that these model feminists have dirty little secrets. And, if they do, how do I find out about them?