My professor waited for our political science class to quiet down before gesturing to the board and stated it wouldn’t be appropriate for him, a man, to lead the upcoming discussion based on our reading about feminism, so he was inviting one of his prior female students to come back and teach our next class. His facial expression told us his choice wasn’t up for discussion or debate, and he quickly moved into discussing Karl Marx. I was somewhat astounded by my professor’s statement; I’d never had a male professor or teacher ever want to discuss feminism, let alone admit they might not be the one best suited for the job.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve identified as a feminist. That’s not to say there wasn’t a time in my life where I wasn’t exactly sure what a feminist was, but I decided to make an effort to find out. I’d heard so many different rumors about and definitions for feminism that I wasn’t exactly sure what to believe. Did it mean I had to hate men? Did I have to be angry all the time? Did feminists really just want to be treated like men? My head was swimming until I came across a line spoken by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, a Nigerian activist and author: 'feminist: a person who believes in the social, political, and economic equality of the sexes.'

Feminists don’t want women to be more powerful than men. They aren’t radicals who burn bras and spit on marriage. Women who identify as feminists can still be feminine, and feminism doesn’t exist at the expense of men. Men can be feminists, too. It’s a wonder how a one-sentence belief could be so grossly twisted out of proportion, but it makes sense when you consider how our society has functioned, and largely still functions, today.

On the day of our class discussion, my professor promptly turned the class over to his former student and took a seat in the first row. She stood confidently in front of sixty college students and immediately dove into the history of feminism. We began with the first wave, largely centered around the writings of Mary Wollstonecraft and the fight for basic institutional equality of women and men. The first wave aimed to prove that perceived inequalities between women and men were no more than social products, and rationality isn’t a gendered concept. It’s no more inherent to men than it is women. Less than ten minutes had gone by before our professor raised his hand and pointed out an interesting phenomenon; the men in the class had been doing most of the talking. The room was silent for a few moments while we processed this, and he continued on to reiterate that this conversation should be led by the women in the room. He sat back in his chair, and the number of hands raised by female students soon multiplied.

The second wave was notably characterized by the ideas of French feminist and activist Simone de Beauvoir. Her book The Second Sex delves into the position of women as always being 'other' since their existence is consistently defined as 'not male,' implying men are superior. The second also served as a critique of the first wave in the sense that the first mainly focused on abstract rights found in legal and educational change as opposed to actual rights and equality within social change. It’s also critical to note the second wave came after World War II; women’s role in society had drastically changed due to their contributions to the war effort. The image of Rosie the Riveter was not soon forgotten.

The second wave also coined the phrase 'The personal is political.' This may seem contradictory, but it makes perfect sense when considering women’s experience. A woman’s life becomes political when some her most basic rights as a human being are contested and oppressed. Her access to birth control, freedom to have an abortion, and disadvantage in the workforce all become topics for legislative debate. The personal can’t be separated from the political when there are still men in power trying to dictate a woman’s own choice. Arguably the most important factor of the second wave was the emergence of intersectionality, and this is the idea that existing forms of oppression are interwoven. A black gay woman is just that: black, gay, and a woman. There isn’t one that takes precedence, and that was something the first wave often failed to recognize. This woman’s experience will be much different than a straight white woman’s, and feminism needs to adequately address the struggles of both.

The third wave was the final wave we discussed, and this wave’s notable name was Judith Butler. Butler aimed to deconstruct the concept of gender as we know it, stating gender was nothing more than a performance we put on every single day. We behave in established ways that denote masculinity or femininity, constantly playing ourselves in these roles. The third wave strove to open up categories of gender identity while also continuing to emphasize structural change. When time constraints eventually forced the discussion to come to a close, our temporary professor was given resounding applause. I left the lecture hall with a better understanding of feminism than I ever had before; I could tell I wasn’t the only one.

My professor decided he wanted to carry the conversation into the next class, and one of the most striking points made during the seventy-five minutes was a man can never understand a woman’s oppression. That doesn’t mean he can’t face oppression himself (based on his race, sexuality, class, etc.), but he can never truly know what it’s like to live in a world built for the opposite sex.

Unsurprisingly, many men in the room were offended by this statement. They spoke to their own academic achievements, the complexities of their chosen majors, and their general life knowledge in efforts to discredit it. Just like their eager hands, our professor quickly shot their efforts down. I, along with my fellow female classmates, watched as these guys just couldn’t seem to wrap their heads around the fact that there might be something they couldn’t understand.

You can’t truly know what you don’t experience. Here’s what I know: I’m a woman. I’ve been scolded for the length of my shorts and the width of my tank top straps more times than I can count. I’m a gay woman. I’ve had jokes made at my expense, kept my composure when a former classmate referred to same-sex relationships as 'disgusting,' and had a man tell me I was going to hell while at a pride parade with my closest friends. I’m a white woman. I know I’ll never be able to understand what it means to be persecuted on account of my race.

I’d heard so many definitions for feminism that I wasn’t exactly sure what to believe.

Feminism requires us to recognize our privilege. To be a woman is not to be part of one homogeneous 'sisterhood.' As women, we have to realize that some of us are oppressed on more fronts than just our sex; we can’t talk about feminism without including intersectionality in the discussion.

I won’t pretend that I know all there is to know about feminism from my own research and two seventy-five minute class periods. However, I came to realize that it evolves as we do. From focusing on education reform to social justice to deconstructing gender, feminism has always responded to what women need. Each wave has built off the previous one, always raising the tide.

I’m a feminist. I won’t shy away from using this word or defending what it stands for. We’ve come an incredibly long way and have much to be proud of, but the 2016 election proved we still have a long way to go. As women, we have to be fearless in leading this conversation. It’s time for us to raise our voices to new volumes as we speak for both ourselves and those of us who can’t yet be heard. We need to be willing to have more uncomfortable conversations like the one in my political science class that made the male students understand our oppression is something they can’t understand. We can never grow as people if we aren’t willing to be uncomfortable.

Feminism has always come in waves; it’s time for us to become the tsunami.

Susie is an editorial intern at bSmart Guide and student-athlete at Lehigh University. She’s a double major in English and Political Science and aiming to pursue a career in publishing and writing.