The "F" Word... pt. II

I grew up watching, nah...bathing in the world of 80-90s-and early 00's Disney. (Proud elder millennial, whoop whoop!)

I would sketch wedding dresses all over my journals and school notes, fantasizing how one day I would meet the guy, the birds would sing, and I would get to live happily ever after. Sometimes I cringe thinking about how big the stars in my eyes were around crushes.

Ya'll. For real, it was rough. There was a part of my heart and brain when I was young that planned on meeting the love of my life in college at 18, getting married after we graduated, and having kids by 22.

Just like Belle, just like Jasmine, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Nala, and on and on an on and on. To add on to this - I was a voracious little reader. It was my superpower, I used to (still) brag that I would finish the Harry Potter books in one sitting.

Just another princess awaiting her prince :D

And let's just say I was a sucker for love stories, romance, and fantasy. Unbeknownst to me, I was absorbing other people's and society's messaging about what an ideal woman should be. Stand by your Man; If a man finds you and wants to kiss you, he's the one. I watched the VHS of GREASE on repeat. If you like a man, change everything about yourself to make him like you too.

I had myself so wrapped up in my thoughts and anxieties and expectations that anytime a boy actually said one word to me, I was an internal puddle of panic - what if i don't say the right thing, what if i'm too fat for him, am i pretty enough to talk to him, am i popular enough to talk to him? surely not....etc...... and a full on external weirdo because of it, I'm sure.

So yeah… that all worked out well for me. (Fast-forward: I’m now 39, still unmarried, and the proud mother of two dogs and a cat.) Actually — it worked out exactly as it should. And here’s why.

Throughout my 20s and 30s, I started to understand what feminism really meant — and why my automatic programming had been so quick to reject it.

Just as we sometimes don’t see everything clearly until the lenses are cleaned, there are other parts of life where things don’t sound quite right until we really start listening.

And the patriarchy? It works a lot like background music.

Background music, glorious background music.

Music that’s always playing — in stores, at home, at work — shaping the mood, setting the tone, so constant you barely notice it. Until one day, a song catches your ear. Maybe you love it, maybe you hate it, maybe you’ve heard the song 1000 times and it brings a smile to your face. So you start listening closer... And once you start listening, really listening..... you realize the playlist is missing something. All of these songs are written and sang by men. If a woman is singing, it's in the background.

Entire voices, harmonies, instrumentation, and genres are missing.

That’s when you begin to ask: what if the soundtrack could be richer?

🎶 Track One: Realization — “Wait… has this been playing the whole time?”

For most of my childhood and young adulthood, the patriarchy was just background music. Disney princess ballads, pop love songs, rom-com soundtracks — all on repeat. I didn’t question them because they felt normal, even comforting.

But here’s what I eventually realized: almost all the songs on my playlist were the ones telling me I was never enough until I had a good man by my side. Beauty meant worth. A relationship meant value. Sacrifice meant love. But for women only.

It was so deeply woven into the soundtrack of my life that I didn’t notice it. I just hummed along.

🎶 Track Two: Discomfort — “This playlist is kind of… limited.”

Then, I started to notice... Why were the lead singers always men? Why were women relegated to backup vocals, or written as muses rather than main characters? Why did every storyline (whether Disney or Grease or every sappy love ballad) seem to come back to “girl finds boy, girl changes for boy, girl is saved by boy”?

It was like realizing your favorite playlist only has one genre — catchy at first, but eventually predictable. Too narrow. Too repetitive. Too boring once you’ve really listened.

🎶 Track Three: Resistance — “I like this playlist just fine.”

When people first point out how the playlist is all men, the natural instinct is to get defensive. I sure did. Because let’s be real: I loved those songs. They shaped my childhood. They gave me comfort when I was lonely. They were tied to my memories.

So when someone says, “Hey, this playlist isn’t playing other songs you might like or bop to, they deserve the same air time” it can feel like they’re criticizing your taste in music. My brain wanted to say, “Don’t ruin my music! Don’t take away my Hopelessly Devoted power ballads, GREASE IS A CLASSIC.”

But here’s the truth: nostalgia and playing the same songs on repeat over and over and over doesn’t make the playlist neutral. It just makes it harder to change.

🎶 Track Four: Curiosity — “what else is out there?”

Eventually, you start exploring beyond the prescribed male power ballads. I read books by women who didn’t wait for a prince, and ran with the wolves instead. I listened to music by artists who refused to fit into narrow definitions or boxes. I noticed my friends who lived outside those “happily ever after” scripts — thriving, complex, joyful, messy — and realized their songs were missing from so many playlists.

This is how we come to understand that feminism isn’t about muting men. It’s about adding the voices that were always there but kept out of the playlist. Patriarchy simply means that the playlist of our everyday lives is set up by men, and men benefit the most from everyone listening to their playlist and only their playlist.

Once you hear other kinds of music, you want more in the shuffle.

🎶 Track Five: Remixing — “Let’s change this up.”

Here’s where our awareness of the onenote playlist turns into responsibility and action. I couldn’t go back to pretending the old playlist was fine and what i wanted to listen to the rest of my life. So I wanted to and started actively adding to my playlist. Traveling, reading about other perspectives, meeting and forming friendships with people different from me....stepping aside and letting others talk about their favorites songs and playlists.

I reflected. I thanked the good lord above that my parents never ever made me feel like I was a failure for not being married. They sang, "take your time, be your own person, there's no pressure from us." I listened to that one on repeat a lot.

It wasn’t perfect — but slowly, the music around me started sounding different, more nuanced, more fulfilling.

🎶 Track Six: Harmony — “This is what music should sound like.”

This is where feminism finally clicked for me. It's not defensiveness. Not man-hating.

Its Harmony.

Equal playing time and opportunities to be added to the playlist.

It’s the stage where I can still enjoy the old songs (Summer Lovin, had me a blassst), but I know they don’t define me anymore. It’s where I appreciate the full playlist — voices and instruments and styles that are different, strong, deep, tingly, angelic, tender, angry, ambiguous, unexpected. Voices that make the whole playlist of our lives' background music fuller, dynamic, and alive.

And once you’ve heard the harmonies that were missing? It's suuuuper hard to revert back to the old one-note soundtrack.

That "You're such a feminist" comment from Golden Boy?

For years, my memory carried that moment like tangible evidence that maybe I was too much. Too opinionated. Too outspoken. Too educated and intelligent. The background music of patriarchy told me that speaking up meant I was bossy, unfeminine, and (gasp) a man-hater. Not marriage material. Too wild. Too demanding. Unworthy.

But here’s what I understand now: my reaction was never about Golden Boy. It was about the soundtrack I’d been soaking in my whole life. After all, we were kids, still learning, and

I didn’t yet have the harmonies in my playlist to know that being a feminist was not about hating men — it was about valuing balance, fairness, and the fullness of every voice.

The harmonies in music are what are magical, healing, and powerful — the way voices overlap, lift each other, and create something richer than just one voice could ever be — I wasn’t wrong for disagreeing with Golden Boy. I just didn’t yet know that the harmony I was craving, trying to express, trying to put a finger on....had a name.

feminism.

Feminist = someone who believes people of all walks of life and genders deserve equal rights, opportunities, and respect.

Not man-hating. Not anti-anyone. Pro-fairness and Pro-freedom. That's it.

That's the big scary feminist agenda - you heard it here first, folks. Regardless of your chosen values, I think ultimately most of us can agree that a great playlist with lots of variety doesn't hurt anyone.

Perhaps Golden Boy and I will cross paths again someday... as far as I know, he has a beautiful wife & children, and is surely doing lots of good in the world. I would love to sit down and reminisce... and I'd definitely be interested in hearing if his thoughts and ideas about feminists have changed in 20 years...

...especially now that he has daughters. 😉

At the end of the day, whether it’s cleaning smudged glasses or remixing a playlist, doing the work of understanding different perspectives people have is the same: noticing what we’ve absorbed without question, sitting in the discomfort long enough to learn from it, and choosing clarity and harmony over defensiveness, intentional blindness, and static.

Tips for Listening Differently

Changing the playlist isn’t always smooth. Sometimes the new tracks feel unfamiliar, or the old ones tug at your nostalgia so hard you want to put them back on repeat. That’s normal. The point isn’t to toss out every song you’ve ever loved — it’s to notice who’s missing from the album and make space for more voices.

A few ways to practice listening differently:

• Notice who’s on the mic. In conversations, meetings, or media, ask yourself: whose voices are leading, and whose are barely background vocals?

• Sit with the static. When a new voice makes you uncomfortable, don’t hit skip right away. Ask, “Why does this feel off to me? What’s new here?”

• Play the remix. Actively seek out books, movies, music, or podcasts created by women, nonbinary folks, and other underrepresented voices. Expand your playlist.

• Check your volume levels. If your voice is always cranked to max, practice turning it down to let others be heard.

Reflection Questions

If you want to take this further, grab a notebook (or your mental playlist) and reflect:

• What “songs” about gender did I grow up with — and which ones do I still find myself humming without thinking?

• When have I felt defensive about the word feminist, and what did that reaction reveal?

• What new voices have I added to my playlist in recent years?

• How might a fuller, more diverse soundtrack make life better — not just for women, but for everyone?

None of us ever get it perfect — lenses fog, playlists will drift back to the same old comfort tracks. But the point is to keep noticing, keep adjusting, and keep making space for clearer days accompanied by a dynamic and delightful playlist.

As one of my favorite philosophers, Coach Taylor once said, "Clear Eyes. Full Heart. Can't Lose."

Peace, love, (harmony) and flow

dr.yo