Must I Always be a Feminist?
Yesterday on the beach I felt charged. Everyone around me seemed very young or terribly old -- married folks and their various three or four children. The kids acted like kids, the parents watched them play, and the world knew balance... Except for my dad (and his cousin's husband) who were surfing with boogie boards.

I thought, "If those old guys can play, so can I, dammit! I have no need to appear some sort of pretty little damsel on the beach!" So, I put my kid in an inflatable boat and RAN through the water. I raced kids on the beach. I borrowed someone's boogie board and caught the biggest waves I could. I had fun. Liberation leads to great things like energy and strength and exuberance.

Today, with my father gone, I inherited the pants. I lifted everything out of the car. I dragged the toys and chairs onto the beach. I put up the umbrella. I was freaking tired. Where's a good man when you need one? Yesterday, I knew the energy of the sun. Today, I felt defeated and beaten down by the wind. Everything seemed gloomy...

Then, I thought about how I wished for some vessel of testosterone to help me set up camp on the beach. And I felt bad. What kind of a feminist am I, anyway? I don't need a man! Or do I?

I absolutely hate to admit this, but I do like to have a man around. Really, I can do just about anything for myself but, sometimes, it's just nicer not to have to. And sometimes it's nice to get laid, too.