Charlotte, Samantha, Carrie, or Miranda.  It seems many women I know can tell you – without skipping a beat – which Sex and the City persona they most accurately match.  Whether they be traditional and romantic, wildly sexual, in a six year long on-again-off-again relationship, or a workaholic with a penchant for unfortunate haircuts, it seems most women who have watched the show are able to identify pretty deeply with one of the characters.

The static nature of these characters is not realistic.  Somehow, though, we still feel inclined to choose.  But why can’t I be a Samantha one night and Charlotte the next?  Tensions run deep when it comes to sex and women’s bodies.  I, and other women my age, owe a great debt to the generations of women who came before us and began breaking down these barriers.  Intimate relationships that run the gamut from one night stands to monogamous sex outside of marriage would have potentially disastrous results if not for the slow but sure shifts in societal attitudes toward women’s sexuality.

This liberation has enabled women to have sexual relationships that were once unimaginable.  But what happens when we begin to attach broad expectations to an individual’s sexual liberation?  What happens when society begins to define feminism and feminists foremost by their sexual liberation?  And then, what happens when the feminist movement turns these actions back around on women? In 2011, what does it mean for society to label you as a progressive feminist? What behaviors do you need to display?

One night, after an evening of celebration, I found myself in the throes of passion with a young gentleman friend of mine.  In the middle of things, I disclosed to him that I did not particularly want to have sex with him.  He stopped immediately, responding, “How traditionalist of you.”  There I was, in the dark, on top of a man with whom I had no relationship, being chided for my perceived prudence.  I – the 22 year-old who has never been in a long-term relationship, who despises children, and who fears commitment like an agoraphobic fears Wal-Mart on a Saturday afternoon – had just been called a traditionalist.  Generations of women fought tirelessly against entrenched gender roles and expectations so that I could drink too many gin and tonics and subsequently find myself straddling my best friend’s roommate – feeling embarrassed only because of the number of adult beverages I had consumed, not because I was in someone else’s bed.

Apparently because I am a Planned Parenthood-supporting, Mother Jones-reading, rabble rousing, progressive feminist it is generally expected that I am not so discerning when it comes to the men with whom I have sex.  I had a bevy of reasons not to have sex with this man, the least of which was some sort of fear about tarnishing my reputation or seeming “easy.”  It seemed my feminism had just bitten me in the butt. 

However, some feminists criticize actions that might fall under the broad category of sexual liberation.  The work of feminists enabled to me attend university, graduate at the top of my class, and wear a “slutty nurse” costume to an unfortunate Halloween party I attended my freshman year.  Perhaps these first two items were a planned outcome, but I am sure the third might be defined by some as collateral damage.  I can’t imagine that Susan B. Anthony, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, and their suffragette sisters knew their actions would spark a movement that would one day allow me to attend a raucous Halloween party in next to no clothing.  Some feminists will argue that in donning such an outfit, I spit in the faces of those women who came before me, that I objectified myself, that in dressing up as a slutty nurse I deemphasized my intelligence in favor of putting my body on display. These acts of “slut shaming” only detract from the feminist movement. The exposure of my body does not mean that I am attention-starved, unintelligent, or begging for sex. Young women around the world have organized “Slut Walks” to fight the belief that a women’s appearance (i.e. dressing in a way that is perceived as overtly sexual) is ever, under any circumstance, an excuse or justification for sexual assault or rape. Slut Walks provide the valuable lesson that we cannot allow a women’s appearance to inform our notions of her.

Back to my situation: So which is it?  Was I a “bad” feminist for not fully embracing my sexual liberation when I chose not to have sex?  Was I a “bad” feminist for going to a party in clothing that exposed my body?  It seems in some cases you just can’t win.  Unlike the women we see on Sex and the City – and the women we are expected to be – our needs, desires, beliefs, and aspirations are not static, nor should we expect them to remain so.  Liberation means different things to young women.  The liberation we continue to fight for loses its power when the majority retains the right to define it for us.  We must create our own liberation, our own feminism, and stare down those who don’t believe us competent enough to understand it on our own terms. 

I am picky about the men I have intimate relationships with; I wear low-cut tops regularly; and the only reason I regret wearing that costume was that I was cold walking home; and yet, I am a feminist.

Kaitlyn Dowling is a digital strategist and recent graduate of the University of New Hampshire.  She hopes this article doesn’t give her mother a heart attack.  She would love for you to follow her on Twitter.

Photo credit caitlinburke/Flickr