The "F" Word - Part I

I remember the first time I was called the F word… “feminist.”

Let’s set the scene. I was in college, sitting in an undergraduate psychology course — I believe it was Theories of Counseling.

The college I attended was tiny (pop. 913), a small liberal arts school nestled in one of the richest and whitest counties in Northeastern Kansas.

Although I considered myself open-minded, I was incredibly naïve about the white-privilege bubble I lived in, and how I unknowingly contributed to the perpetuation of privilege, stereotypes, and patriarchy through my naivety and actions.

My naive white girl self out there playing into cultural stereotypes. I am definitely not perfect either.

That’s not to say I didn’t absolutely love my college experience. If given the choice, I’d do it all again, but... when you know better you do better. And I also realize now how much learning and growing I had the privilege of doing through my life experiences beyond college.

Anyway.

Obviously in such a tiny bubble, our upper-level psychology courses were small — only about 7–12 students in each. We all knew each other pretty well.

I was sitting next to Golden Boy, a friend (maybe kind of crush, who knows) — an attractive white man, football player, kind-hearted, clever, and smart. He made everything look easy, and he was my biggest (purely mental) competition for being the departmental pet.

I don’t remember the exact comment I made in class that day, but I do remember Golden Boy leaning over and muttering under his breath: “God, you are such a feminist.”

Like it was a bad thing.

And I reacted like it was: “Ugh, stop. Just because I said that doesn’t mean I’m a man-hater…”

That was it. Feminist = man-hater. The slippery-slope assumption that so many of us unconsciously absorb growing up — through media, music, gender expectations, family and religious traditions, and good old observational learning.

It wasn't until I was in graduate school, in my doctoral program, that I finally understood why I reacted that way.

I was sitting in my Cultural Diversity course, and we were learning about how our racial (even White) identity forms. I was feeling a little uncomfortable and guiltily defensive after reading the chapters, and was unsure of how the course discussion was going to go. (stage 3, anyone!?)

You see, we were learning that research has consistently shown that humans develop their sense of identity over time, based on their experiences and environments. And often, this is a very different experience for people born with white skin versus people born with brown or black skin.

Think of it like this...

I got glasses in the third(?) grade. I liked them, but I hated them. Not because I thought they looked bad, but because they always seemed smudged. Fingerprints, mystery smudges, fogging up — it felt like I was seeing life with a little less clarity.

Young Dr. Yo with her smudged glasses (and the OG bucket hat trend)

That’s kind of how many White people first experience race. We’re born wearing “racial identity glasses” without realizing it.

The White Identity Model, created by psychologist Janet Helms, explains the stages White people often go through as they start to understand race roles and their part in it.

Think of it as the process of cleaning those glasses: at first, everything looks blurry, and by the end, you see the world with a lot more clarity.

Stage 1: Contact — “What Glasses?”

At first, especially in childhood - young adulthood, many White people don’t even notice race. Life feels “normal.” Racism? That’s something from history books. The glasses are so cloudy you don’t even realize that things like inequality and structural racism even exist in your world.

Stage 2: Disintegration — “Wait… something’s not right.”

Then comes the first wipe of the lens. You start making friends who don't look like you, or you start traveling more, or start reading about different perspectives. Suddenly, you start noticing unfairness. News stories, school discipline numbers, things your friend of color has experienced. It’s uncomfortable — like realizing those streaks on your glasses are actually scratches and maybe aren’t going away.

Stage 3: Reintegration — “This is too much. I’m blaming the glasses.”

When things get confusing, it’s tempting to go backwards. To get defensive. To feel uncomfortable. To deny anything but good intentions. Some people deal with the discomfort by clinging to old ideas or even blaming people with different thoughts and beliefs. It’s like feeling guilty or angry about the smudges and scratches, but claiming, the "SMUDGES ARENT MY FAULT. I'M A GOOD PERSON I DIDN"T ASK FOR SMUDGES," yelling at your glasses instead of actually cleaning them.

Stage 4: Pseudo-Independence — “I should fix this… how?”

Here, people with white skin often want to do something, which is great — but it can come off as a little awkward. Most of the time we are open, kind and loving humans who want to fix it or make things better. But instead of cleaning our own glasses, we're trying to polish everyone else’s. (“Don’t worry, my glasses are awesome, try them on, you'll see”). All Good intentions, but not enough readiness to sit in a periods of self-reflection and focus on their own lens.

Stage 5: Immersion/Emersion — “Time to get serious.”

Now the real work starts. Cleaning others' glasses didn't work to help you get clarity on your own lenses. So, you start reading, learning, joining hard conversations. Once you start finally scrubbing your own lenses, without guilt, shame, anger, or defensiveness - clarity can happen - realizing how much you maybe didn’t see before.

Stage 6: Autonomy — “I can see clearly now.”

This is the stage where the glasses are clean. White identity feels less about guilt or denial and more about acknowledgement and taking responsibility. People here work toward fairness, stand up against inequality, and want to keep learning throughout their lifetime.

Helm's model reminds us that understanding race and structural racism isn’t a one-time event — it’s a process. And like cleaning glasses, it requires effort, honesty, a little elbow grease, and sometimes admitting, “Wow, I did not see that before.”

The good news? Clearer vision means better choices. Choices in our beliefs, words, and actions. Choices based on your values means noticing who’s being left out of the picture. It means using your clearer sight to help make the world more beautiful for everyone.

All of us aren't perfect - we all still smudge our lenses sometimes. That’s okay — we just have to remember to not give up on cleaning.

Learning about and moving through these stages isn't easy. Self-reflection though, is one of the bravest learning exercises you can do with yourself. Growth usually comes with some discomfort — guilt, confusion, defensiveness, even grief. The trick is not to run from those feelings, but to sit with them long enough to step back and learn something from them.

Tips for staying open when it feels uncomfortable:

• Pause before reacting. Notice if you feel defensive. Ask yourself, “What’s behind this reaction?”

• Breathe through the discomfort. A few deep breaths can calm the nervous system and make space for reflection.

• Stay curious. Instead of saying, “That can’t be true,” or "That may be true but I wasnt the racist one 100 years ago, I never had slaves...etc." try, “What if it is true? What might I not see yet?”

• Practice patience. Identity growth takes time. You don’t clean years of smudges with one swipe.

If you want to go deeper, try sitting with one or two of these and bullet-listing your thoughts:

• What stage do I most recognize myself in right now?

• When have I felt uncomfortable learning about race — and how did I respond?

• What’s one small action I could take this week to “clean my lenses” a little more?

• How might clearer vision help me be a better neighbor, parent, coworker, or friend?

Circling Back.....

Learning about this model — even with the guilt, defensiveness, and discomfort — propelled me into better understanding how people also absorb the ideas of patriarchy (often unconsciously) in our everyday lives. That’s what led me, and many others (even in my own friend groups), to react to feminism as a dirty word.

Since I’m getting long-winded and tangential, I’ll stop here. I think it’s called a cliffhanger? 😉

Part two finishes the story of my reaction and ultimate decision about the "goodness' or "badness" of the F word…

thanks for reading this far and for opening your mind to learning and reflecting!

Peace, love, flow.

— Dr. Yo