My Life Hasn’t Passed the Bechdel Test in Four Years

Last semester, I took a feminist film class. While the class was pretty boring and I wished we could’ve just watched 10 Things I Hate About You the whole time, I did learn about the Bechdel Test, which asks whether a work of fiction features at least two women who talk to each other about something other than a man. And then I realized–my life hasn’t passed the Bechdel Test in four years.  

To be fair, I only have guy friends because women are just so dramatic. I just don’t have time to deal with all the drama that comes with female friends! It’s much easier for me to just hang with the guys because, unlike the rest of my gender, I have mastered the art of being chill.

When I hang out with the few female friends I do have, I steer every conversation back to dudes. I mean, come on, I need my friends to weigh in on the guy I hooked up with at his frat house last weekend! Why hasn’t he texted me back even though his read receipts are on? Why does his Tinder profile say he was active 2 hours ago? If I waited outside of his class on Tuesday, how come I didn’t see him? I don’t have time to talk about politics or art or literally anything else–THIS is what is important.

My mom and I talk on the phone daily and you’d think we talk about things like my career, my successes in school, what I’m eating for dinner that night, but think again! We talk strictly about my dad and brother. She tells me all about my dad’s day and what he’s doing at work and my brother’s new girlfriend and how she just doesn’t get our family.

In therapy, I talk solely about my dad, the guys I’m hooking up with, my brother, my grandpa, my dog (he’s a boy), the president, and the hot barista at my coffee shop who just keeps hitting on me.

So no, my life hasn’t passed the Bechdel Test in four years. But does that make me any less of a feminist? No. Will I ever take a feminist class again? Only if it’s a class about why voting for Bernie Sanders was the feminist thing to do.

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