Are female farmers feminists?

I have been thinking about this question for a while: Am I a feminist because I want to be a farmer?  This question, although not fully formed until recently, has been stewing in the back of my mind for more years than I can figure.  I'm not entirely sure how this question began to form.  Most likely it began at some point in my childhood when I started to realize that men and women are different and that, traditionally, they have very different roles.  When I was young, I wanted to be a farmer, a hockey player, a police officer, and a doctor.  Over time, I gave up on all of these dreams.  The only hockey players I ever saw were men (and I can barely skate).  Most of the police officers I knew were men (and I'm not the firm, authoritative type).  Most of the doctors I have had are men (and somewhere along the way I connected doctors with pain - not an ideal career choice).  Yes, I even gave up on being a farmer.  In high school I decided to believe that farming was just too hard for women.  Besides, everyone said I shouldn't be a farmer.  "Leave it to the men," was the message that was so often hidden in the discouraging commentaries sent my way.  So I gave up.  I enrolled in a Bachelor of Arts degree with the plan to be a teacher, a most acceptable career in the eyes of my critics.  Even so, I always planned to return to the farm.  There were people who even discouraged me from that, though.

I feel as though I am beginning to ramble.  Allow me, if you will, to tell a few stories to bring my point back into focus.

It is June 2010.  I am about to graduate from high school.  The church, as usual, is having a graduation Sunday, a day when all of us who are graduating are celebrated during the service.  We had to provide a short plan of what our futures will look like for the power point presentation (you know, that inevitable slideshow of baby pictures and current photos for everyone to see).  My future plan says something along the lines of, "Valerie plans to attend the King's University College in Edmonton, get a Bachelor of Arts degree and a Bachelor of Education after-degree, and then will return to take over the farm."  For most of the graduates, the slides with their plans are met with a collective and approving "hmm."  That is not what happens when my slide pops up on the screen.  The congregation responds in the same way that individuals have been responding to my plans to take over the farm for years: they let out a collective chuckle.  Now, I'm not talking about a chuckle that says, "oh, that's a good joke...that's not going happen," or even "oh Valerie, what are we going to do with you?  I guess you'll do what you want."  Oh no.  It is one of those chuckles that I myself have emitted while listening to the grand schemes of my uncle's young grandchildren.  It is a chuckle that clearly says, "aw, that's cute...it'll never happen, but it's cute that she thinks it will."  I am mortified and angry.  I know that no one would ever chuckle that way for a young man with the same plans.  I think this is what made me start fighting to make it okay for me, a woman, to be a farmer.

Fast forward a few years.  I have discovered that teaching is most emphatically not for me.  I have decided to put my full career efforts into the farm.  I will run a market garden.  There is some opposition to this.  My mom isn't too happy about it at first.  She worries about me.  It's a mom thing.  Other people are against it too, though.  No one ever confronts me to my face, but comments get back to me.  My sister tells me of a relative who, being concerned for my health and safety, has questioned her about my intent to do such a physically demanding job.  I am a little amused about that one.  In my mind, market gardening isn't even "real" farming (although I know it is a very difficult job).  I mostly ignore the opposition.

Fast forward a few months.  I am not enjoying my horticulture classes.  Oh, some of them are interesting, but I go to Bible Study and listen to the Aggies (students of agriculture, for those of you who are unfamiliar with the term) talk about their classes and I am completely fascinated.  I start thinking about switching to Agricultural Management.  It will mean an extra year of school (that will be six years of post-secondary school in total).  And am I really ready to make that kind of commitment?  I've already had a few serious accidents on the farm.  Every day I will put my life on the line, working around machinery, climbing ladders on granaries that were not made for anyone of my short stature, working around cattle several times my size and strength.  Is it worth it?  I finally decide that it is and make the arrangements to switch programs at the end of the school year.  My dad is, to my shock, immensely relieved by my decision.  Apparently he wasn't too keen about turning his "real farm" into a market garden.  Outside of my home, the opposition really starts to pour in.  At first, I don't notice the difference.  There has always been opposition.  In fact, I am noticing more support.  People who think it's great that there's going to be a girl farmer are eager to tell me how great they think it is.  The opposition goes underground for a while because my family is respected in the community.

I think this was the point when the idea of feminism really started pushing it's way forward in my mind.  I began to see that people thought I was doing something extraordinary.  In case you are one of those people, let me tell you that I am not trying to be or do anything special and it makes me very uncomfortable when you act like I'm some sort of example for young girls who want to get into non-traditional careers.  I'm not sure, but I think that those who support me and those who oppose my decisions assume that I am some sort of feminist.  I'll tell you right now that I'm not.  Now let me explain how I came to that conclusion.  I first really formed the question, "am I a feminist because I want to be a farmer?" in it's entirety sometime in this past year.  I began to encounter older folks in the community, both men and women, who are very firm in their beliefs that there are some roles that women shouldn't (or shouldn't have to) take on.  Never in my hearing has the topic of women farmers come up, but the idea that I ought to know my place because women will never be as good as men at certain things has been made abundantly clear.  I have been told by an older friend of my parents that there are people who say, "Valerie shouldn't be a farmer; it's not right for a woman to do that."  (This particular individual thinks it's great that I want to be a farmer).  While doing field work this summer I listened to a sermon on the radio that was a vicious attack on the feminist movement.  It was very interesting, but I didn't really believe all of the evidence presented to prove that "feminism is a work of the devil."  While it was mildly amusing and rather infuriating, the sermon stirred me to start really looking at what I was doing.  I don't want to cause division in the church or in the community.  I needed to know why I was doing what I was doing and decide if I'm a feminist or not.

Not knowing where to start, I began seeking out what the Biblical role of women is supposed to be.  Have you ever done that?  Let me tell you, it's very confusing.  I still have not come to any conclusions about that.  All I know is that women are meant to do more than sit back and keep their mouths shut.  What that "more" is, though, I have no idea.  I probably won't ever have a conclusive opinion about this, but I do believe that men and women are to work in partnership and that God has made us different for a reason.  Physically, men are stronger and they have been given authority over women, in a way.  Please note, I said, "in a way."  I, as a woman, am not subject to every man I come across.  I am under my father's authority and when I marry, I will trust my husband to lead me (though I surely won't follow blindly - more about this later).

Feeling a little stuck, I decided to look up the definition of feminism.  The Oxford Canadian Dictionary defines feminism this way: "1. the advocacy of equality of the sexes, esp. through the establishment of the political, social and economic rights of women. 2. the movement associated with this."  Okay.  That doesn't sound so bad.  Sounds pretty fair, actually.  But it's not realistic.  As I said, men and women are built and wired differently.  We aren't equal and even if every job in the world is done by 50% men and 50% women, we will still never be equal because we were not created to be equal.  Each of us is uniquely created for a role that only God fully understands.  Because I cannot believe in equality of the sexes, I am not a feminist.  I will be a farmer.  Have no doubt about that.  I am capable of doing that.  However, I know that a man could do the job much more easily than I could.

People tell me I need to marry a farmer.  I can't lie.  That offends me...but it also draws me.  Boy, it would be convenient to marry a farmer, especially if he didn't have a farm to go back to.  He could run the farm.  I would help him and leave the major decisions to him (although if he ever wanted to get rid of the cows or knock down the bush or sell the homestead quarter, he would be getting a piece of my mind in a hurry).  I really would be okay with being a submissive (but not oppressed) wife and taking on the more feminine role of running the household, while also working in the fields with my husband.  Unfortunately, I have no idea what and who God has in mind for me.  I might end up marrying the most clueless (about farm stuff) city slicker there is.  I might never marry at all (cue a collective gasp and panic among my relatives).  Whatever happens, I sincerely hope that when the time comes, I am ready for whatever God has in store for me.

If you've made it this far in the post, let me thank you for sticking with it.  I know this a long one.  I'm nearly finished.  Let me simply end by recapping what I've said:

• I want to be a farmer.
• I know farming is hard work.
• I know there are those who think I can't or shouldn't be a farmer.
• I know there are those who think I don't know my place.
• They are right.  I don't exactly know what I'm supposed to be doing, but I don't think I'm disobeying God.
• I am not a feminist.  I know there are differences between men and women that will never and should never be equalized.

Finally, let me say one final word about the naysayers: I know they don't understand.  I know they talk to other people about what they think.  If someone says something to you about what they think I should or should not be doing, please ask them to bring their questions and opinions to me.  Yes, they will probably hurt my feelings, but it hurts a lot more to hear it second-hand.  Please ask them to respect me enough to say whatever they've got to say to my face.