On May 28th of this year, I was in a good place. I felt comfortable in my existence and my newfound identity as a feminist. I was excited to jump into the Moxie Project, to work for the summer, be surrounded by other strong females, and maybe learn a few things along the way.

But, today, 5 weeks into the program, I’ve realized it’s not that easy. Yes, I’ve been loving my job with Girls for Gender Equity, yes I’m constantly in the company of 7 other passionate feminists, and yes, I’ve learned more than a few things about the feminist movement through our readings and discussions. But what I didn’t expect was how much this program was going to seep into my everyday thoughts and actions.

Back at school it’s easy to leave a 90 minute lecture and remove yourself from the material you were just studying. You don’t go home after a physiology course and obsess over each skin cell on your arm or the way your joints move in your leg. At least you hope you don’t. But here it’s not that easy. The topics we cover in the readings, the context of my work, the themes of the enrichment events — they come up everywhere. Even in the most nuanced actions I take or interactions I have, I’m always forced to see it through the Moxie lens, no matter how hard I try to fight it.

When my male friends make a joke about getting laid or “hitting that” — jokes I may have once laughed along with — I’m now disgusted and ashamed of my association with these perfect examples of sexist, entitled pigs.

Even in just the simple daily actions of straightening my hair and shaving my legs, I’m starting to question the reasons I do these things. Is it really just for me, as I constantly argue? Or is it to fulfill a beauty image that society deems acceptable, thus perpetuating gender norms and complying with the patriarchy?

I’ll be reading a book or watching a tv show that I always loved, and now I find myself getting angry. Getting angry at the characters for obsessing over men or allowing themselves to be objectified. Getting angry at the writers for continuously creating damsels in distress whose only purpose is to find a man, get married, and live happily ever after. Getting angry at myself for ever finding these things enjoyable, relatable even.

This program is making me see my whole life differently. The decisions I’ve made, the friends I’ve kept, the groups I’ve joined. I’m starting to question how I have been a feminist when so many aspects of my being seem to go against the concepts we’ve been discussing. That’s not to say that I now plan to go home after this program and burn all my books, end friendships, and throw away my razor. But I do know that being in this program is making me see the world and myself differently. I’ve accepted that the Moxie lens is here to stay — but in the end I don’t think I mind it.