The conversation is a common one. A seemingly enlightened, intelligent woman will amaze you… The conversation is a common one. A seemingly enlightened, intelligent woman will amaze you with the ridiculous logic of: “Oh, I’m not a feminist. I like to cook for my boyfriend and wear makeup and cry at sad movies, grind to Britney Spears dance remixes and dress like the “Sex and the City” girls. Nope, I’m not a feminist.”

The reaction is a familiar one. My eye rolling evolves into seething disbelief. What do you mean you’re not a feminist? Pull up your skirt and get out a hand-held mirror. Is that a penis? No, it’s not. If you have a pair of X chromosomes, all this equality nonsense concerns you. As a woman, aren’t you automatically a feminist?

Sadly, no.

The term “feminism” has become a big, nasty F word. Well F that. You don’t have to be a militant lesbian to care about women’s issues. Legally, we are equal. In practice, those laws are often abused or forgotten. The choice is yours whether or not you protest injustices against your inalienable rights. But why wouldn’t you?

Fear of feminism is fear of unfair stereotyping, fear of judgment and fear of rejection. We’ve learned that calling ourselves feminist or aligning ourselves publicly with any pro-woman ideology puts us at odds with the men in our lives.

Take any seemingly sensitive, thoughtful man and tell him women still have a raw deal. You think opinions writers are opinionated? Try telling some dude his gender’s still oppressing you. No matter how respectfully you say it, you’re going to hear over and over why you’re wrong. So you stop fighting it.

I’ve been there. When I was younger, most of my friends were guys. Back then, buying into F-word propaganda, I was disgusted that my female friends seemed so, ugh, feminine — too feminine to be smart or interesting or even equal.

And I was the weird girl in my grade — with massive breasts — who weighed 95 pounds. By high school, no longer flattered by hallway groping and nicknames like “Boobs,” I had a mission. I was going to be one of the boys. And I think I almost pulled it off. Fortunately, dry sarcasm and a potty mouth make you fit in with the two-nut crew.

But when I went to college, I realized pretending to be equal wasn’t for me. And even if it was, self-deluding redheads with big boobs will never be seen as just “one of the boys.” I had the wisdom and the self-esteem to know that I could be a raging girly-girl and an intelligent, capable person without any sort of role discrepancy.

There are millions of smart, dedicated, knowledgeable, outspoken women in the world with various feminist labels: from militant lesbians to activism-oriented “womyn” to the Cosmo-bred “do-me” feminists.

The fear of the F word will not pass until women realize that there is no archetypal feminist to model one’s self after. The “butch man-hater” stereotype is a device used to make women shut up about their justifiable concerns. To be a feminist, all that is required is a willingness to stand up for what is right and just for women.

I throw gourmet dinner parties, love buying shoes and like to be spanked every so often. But, at the same time, I will tell you that women are not always treated equally in many situations, and there’s a long way to go until we are. I will do anything required of me to enlighten others to this fact or work toward fixing it. And if any random guys try to grab my boobs ever again, I will calmly punch them in the stomach and let loose the only legit F word.

And those women too scared to proclaim themselves feminists can keep your lesser pay.

Jen Dionisio really enjoys telling people to be just like her. Need more help? E-mail at [email protected].