When Finland’s First Lady Suzanne Innes-Stubb calmly stated in an interview that she doesn’t consider herself a feminist – even while discussing gender equality, violence against women, and the importance of talking about menopause – she wasn’t trying to start a war. But somehow, she did. That single sentence, placed next to words of care and conviction, was enough to set off a wave of public judgment.

Author Helmi Kekkonen was one of the loudest voices in response. In a strongly worded open letter, she expressed disbelief that a woman with Suzanne’s education and visibility would say something so “dangerous.” She claimed Suzanne must not understand what feminism means. That despite everything she stands for, she had betrayed her gender by refusing the label. Kekkonen read the quote to her daughter. She messaged her friends. They were all outraged. That reaction tells us something – and not about Suzanne.

It tells us that even now, in countries like Finland that pride themselves on free speech and progressive values, we still don’t know how to deal with women who step off-script or fit into a certain narrative. Women who think for themselves and say it out loud. Especially when their thoughts don’t match what we expect from someone “on our side.” Instead of inviting discussion, we rush to define the boundaries. We want to know immediately: are you with us or against us?

Suzanne wasn’t against anyone. She didn’t dismiss women’s rights. She didn’t speak with hate or carelessness. She simply said a word didn’t fit. That she doesn’t identify with feminism. And in today’s climate, that was enough to trigger a full-blown media moment. The headlines didn’t ask why she felt that way. They just zoomed in on the “not a feminist” part—and let outrage take it from there.

That choice to reduce the story to a single word shows how narrow the public conversation has become. Instead of asking deeper questions—What does feminism mean to different generations? How has the movement evolved in different cultural contexts? – people zoom in on whether someone is using the correct branding and reward for alignment, not on thoughts. But when labels become more important than ideas, we lose space for people who think in the grey areas. And we lose sight of the bigger picture.

When the interview came out and the media blizzard started, I knew I had to write about it. There’s not much I hate in this world – well, except for the Finnish winter “snow inferno” when snow attacks from every possible angle – but injustice is right up there.

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Freedom of thought isn’t just for people who agree with you

We say we support free speech and individual choice. But when someone expresses an idea that challenges the dominant narrative – even gently, even respectfully – it’s often met with public correction, shame, or dismissal. That’s not freedom of thought. That’s controlled participation.

In many places, feminism has become a way to check if you’re on the “right side.” Like when you were a kid and needed a secret password to get into the playroom—or a closet, if that’s what was available. Say you’re a feminist, and you’re let in. Say you’re not and even if you believe in many of the same things you’re treated as suspicious, ungrateful, or worse. The message is clear: if you want to support equality, there’s only one “right” way to talk about it. And if you say the wrong thing, you’re out. Suddenly, cold Finnish winters feel like a distant memory. At least snow doesn’t question your values.

But equality should never come with terms and conditions. If someone supports the rights of women, defends people from abuse, and speaks up for dignity and fairness, why should they be forced to use a specific word to validate their place in the conversation? Why is saying the right thing more important than doing the right thing?

That’s what makes this issue so uncomfortable. It’s not about someone rejecting equality. It’s about someone refusing to repeat a line – and the panic that follows. Suzanne didn’t say feminism is harmful. She didn’t insult the movement. She just said it doesn’t describe her. That should be the start of a conversation, not the end of one.

If we can’t accept disagreement—even when it comes from people who clearly care – then we’re not creating an equal space. We’re just replacing one kind of social pressure with another. And the idea that women must all speak in unison to be accepted isn’t progressive. It’s performative politics.

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The Word “Feminist” Doesn’t Belong to Everyone—and That’s Okay

Feminism is not the same as equality. It never has been. Feminism is one framework, a worldview, a movement, a set of ideas that grew in response to real injustice. But like any movement, it changes over time. It stretches, splits, reshaped, and redefined. And depending on where you live, what you’ve lived through, or what space you’re in, the meaning of that word shifts again.

Feminism doesn’t mean the same thing everywhere. In places where women are still punished for speaking, or beaten for choosing who to love, calling yourself a feminist isn’t a lifestyle – it’s survival. It’s not a performance. It’s a demand for basic rights. And I respect that. I support that. If I lived in that kind of context, I’d be wearing the label like armor.

And then there are bold women like Suzanne. Women who care, think, and act – but still choose not to wear the label. Some people in her position might have said the “right” thing, especially when married to a president. But not her. Not because she’s confused or regressive, but because she’s paying attention. Because she refuses to be told how she should express her support for equality. Suzanne didn’t step away from the values – she stepped away from the branding. And for that, she got headlines, judgment, and a public letter. All because she chose honesty over safety.

In some places, feminism is still dangerous and vital. In others, it feels more like a social signal—a kind of membership. Too often, there is a shift from something empowering into something calculative. You read stories, hear of the backlash, and watch how easily it’s used to shut down men instead of bringing them into the conversation. There are some women get shamed for enjoying traditional roles or choosing a softer kind of strength. That version of feminism doesn’t feel right, it feels like a filter. More about being right than being fair.

In Saudi Arabia, I’d 100% call myself a feminist. Things have changed there—yes. Women can now drive, work in more roles, and travel abroad without needing a male guardian’s permission. That’s real progress. But many restrictions still exist beneath the surface, especially when it comes to relationships, freedom of speech, and personal autonomy. If I couldn’t love freely, work within my passion, travel when and with whom I want, speak openly, spend a hell of a lot of my own money the way I choose – or get tipsy with my favorite people, of women and men – I’d be out there fighting every day.

That’s the part people forget. Feminism doesn’t mean the same thing everywhere. In places where women are still punished for speaking, or beaten for choosing who to love, calling yourself a feminist isn’t a lifestyle – it’s survival. It’s not a performance. It’s a demand for basic rights. And I respect that. I support that. If I lived in that kind of context, I’d be wearing the label like armor.

But where I live, in Northern Europe, I already have those freedoms. I can walk into any café, apply for jobs, live with my partner, post my thoughts, spend my money, and walk out of a relationship if it no longer serves me. The battle here is different. And because of that, my relationship to feminism is different. I don’t need to declare my alignment to prove that I believe in equality. I live it. Every day. With my choices, my values, and my voice.

That’s why the label feels off. Not because I’m against what feminism stands for, but because the local version often comes with extra baggage I didn’t choose. It sometimes feels like the conversation has shifted from “how do we create a fair world?” to “are you saying the right things, in the right way, with the right crowd?” That’s not freedom. That’s branding.

And yes, I know how lucky I am. That I live in a country where I can say this without fear. That I can speak up without being silenced – or at least not in ways that threaten my safety. But that doesn’t mean I have to blindly agree with everything that flies under the banner of feminism. That doesn’t mean I can’t question how it shows up in my world. If anything, because I’m free, I have a responsibility to question the things I’m told I have to say to be accepted.

If feminism is truly about women being able to choose for themselves, then that has to include how we define our relationship to the movement itself. No one should be forced to say the “right” words just to be allowed to care.

I believe feminism means something different in every context. And I believe the same goes for every label, every movement, every word that’s asked to carry more than it should. That’s why we should be careful about gatekeeping belief through language. Because once we start demanding identical phrasing to prove shared values, we’re no longer inviting people in. We’re filtering them out.

So no, I don’t call myself a feminist. Not here, not right now. But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t – if I had to fight for my right to exist. I just don’t believe I should have to wear a title to prove what’s already clear in how I live. I believe in equality. I believe in choice. And I believe in people who think for themselves—even when it’s inconvenient.

This is where people like me – and maybe like Suzanne – find ourselves. We support the outcomes. We want the same things. But we don’t see ourselves in the current framework. And that doesn’t make us enemies of the cause. It makes us individuals.

If feminism is truly about women being able to choose for themselves, then that has to include how we define our relationship to the movement itself. No one should be forced to say the “right” words just to be allowed to care.

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Not the movement – but the membership

This isn’t an attack on feminism. It’s a criticism of what happens when movements start caring more about branding than change. When posting a hashtag becomes more important than understanding the topic. When saying the word “feminist” makes people feel safer around you – even if you’re not doing anything useful.

We’ve entered an era where the image of activism often replaces real action. It’s more about having the right aesthetic, the right quotes, the right online presence. That’s not how real change happens. There’s also a sense of guilt-tripping baked into the system. Like, if you don’t use the right words, you’re not doing enough. If you challenge anything about the movement, you’re against progress. But questioning something you’re part of, that’s how progress is made. That’s how movements stay alive.

I don’t want to join a club. I want to have a conversation. I want space to support equality without being part of a branded package. I want to ask honest questions without being thought of as a traitor. That shouldn’t be a radical ask.

If feminism is only open to people who agree with every part of it, then we’ve created a circle – not a community. A circle keeps people in or out. A community welcomes different views, even uncomfortable ones, and builds something better from the tension.

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I don’t do “-isms” – I do conversations and debades

I’ve never felt at home in anything with an -ism at the end. Feminism. Nationalism. Socialism. Once ideas become isms, they start to sound like systems you need to belong to – like you can’t question them without being accused of betrayal. And I question everything. Always have.

Being not a nationalist although I love my country. I have deep respect for the older generations – those who went through war to make sure there would be a better Finland for the future. Honoring that sacrifice doesn’t make me a nationalist. It means I value the safety and living standards we have today. I love doing international business, meeting people from different cultures, and speaking English. And still, I’m proud to be a Finn and to live here. Just like I don’t call myself a feminist, even though I care deeply about equality. For me, belonging shouldn’t depend on repeating the right words or saluting the right flag. I believe in thinking for yourself – even when it’s uncomfortable. Especially then.

As a maximalist, a generalist, a “Jackinna of All Trades.” I like to sit in complexity. I don’t want to simplify my thoughts just so they fit into one approved shape. I make dinner for my fiancé because I want to. He makes me lots of coffee because he wants to. We talk. We respect each other. That’s what equality looks like to me. No hashtags needed.

I care about fairness. I care about dignity. I care about voices that get ignored. But I don’t need to join a movement to show that. I don’t need to be validated by people who only accept me if I say the right word. I want to live by my values, not market them.

So no, I’m not a feminist. But I’m still here. Listening. Watching. Speaking. Caring. Acting. On my own terms. And I’m not the enemy.

I used AI to help me visualize something I’ve been trying to put into words for years—the unspoken gap between how men and women are often seen, treated, and expected to show up in the world. This contrast piece, built with bold layers of pink and blue, doesn’t try to simplify or resolve that tension. It just holds it. Like much of this post, it sits in the in-between: not just division, but difference. Not conflict, but contrast.

P.S. If even one person—most likely someone who identifies as a feminist—reads this and walks away more open to having a decent conversation with someone who doesn’t share the label, then this blog post was worth writing.