As my iPhone lock screen read 8:04am, the lobby of the hotel continued to fill with people from all across the country. A low excited chatter filled the conference hall as feminists from all across the country mingled over breakfast. It was day one of the National Young Feminist Leadership Conference.
Booths featuring information about reproductive healthcare, the Equal Rights Amendment, and the work of different social justice organizations lined the back of the room. It was the start of an impactful weekend.
I had the pleasure of interviewing a few conference-goers this morning, asking these young feminists what they were most looking forward to about the weekend ahead of them. Many shared with me that they were excited to meet like minded activists and others let me know that they were most eager to learn from the speakers, panelists and their peers.
Madelyn Amos, the Director of the Feminist Campus and the conference organizer, kicked off the General Assembly with a heart-felt and uplifting welcome. She introduced Ellie Smeal, the founder and president of the Feminist Majority, to the podium.
Ellie, with decades of organizing experience and a heart filled with passion for equality, shared why conferences like this one were so important. One after another, inspirational women took the podium shining light on their work towards equality, justice, and a better world for generations to come.
I distinctly remember a quote from Leela Strong, the director of the Center for Information Research on Civil Learning and Engagement. She said, “Justice isn’t polite; it’s disruptive. You’re not existing in democracy–you’re redefining it.”
It was my first time attending NYFLC, let alone attempting to document it. And it was the first time, coming from a small rural county in North Carolina, that I thought “Wow, there are a lot of women just like me here who are passionate about all the things that I am passionate about.”
I crossed paths with environmental feminists, political science professors, congresswomen, life-long activists, and I quickly noticed the one thing they all had in common: a passion that you could feel from across the crowd.
The panels began, and I ultimately chose ones focused on the politicization of higher education, and writing as a force for change. Many of the sessions were standing room only, which I wasn’t surprised by when I read the line up of panelists.
Later the first afternoon, my fellow intern and I led the Southern Caucus to provide a space for students from southern states to connect, and maybe commiserate. I was pleasantly surprised that my fellow college feminists brought up issues that I too was facing on my campus. We relished in our shared understanding of what it means to advocate for feminist values in traditionally conservative environments.
We discussed ways to include and invite cis men in our efforts for progress. We strategized on how to overcome the over-politicization of human rights advocacy. I quickly noticed how our organizing efforts were becoming more holistic as we each took a piece of advice from one another, eager to bring it back to our campuses.
The room represented diverse lived experiences, with participants spanning the full spectrum of gender identities, sexual orientations, racial backgrounds, and cultural heritages. I typically shy away from telling people I am from the South, but I had never been more proud of southern states than I was at that moment.
It made me think back to a political theory class that I had taken. My professor said, “Feminism is a house with a lot of rooms in it. One for each issue that is to be fought for. However, the walls of those rooms are thin, and if you listen, you’ll be able to hear what and who the movement wishes to uplift.” I was, in fact, listening—with ears and heart wide open.
Coming to the conference, I had a slight idea of what to expect. I knew that I would come away with a new idea for an event on my campus, a quote that I will reuse 100 times, a person that really stuck out to me, and memories that I would cherish with my two best friends.
What I came away with that I didn’t expect was a new, more inclusive form of feminism that I hadn’t realized was possible, a new passion for intersectionality, an unrealized sense of “Oh yeah, I can do this,” and more friends than I could have ever imagined meeting. I keep telling myself, “I can’t wait for next March.”