When I was five, my father bought me a “women are not chicks” t-shirt (I wore it on rotation with my Cat and the Fiddle t-shirt advertising the local pub – the idea that the latter was made in a child’s size seems improbably permissive these days.)

When I was twenty, determined to rebel against something (a hard ask when your parents are tolerant, interesting AND stable) I decided to scandalise some delightful lesbians at my father’s 60th by announcing that I was the new woman in a post-feminist world. I did not need feminism, I declared. I would call myself a chick if I wanted. I could swoon for guys in a totally fifties vibe. Those kind ladies tried hard to look shocked.

When I was twenty-six, I travelled through Egypt for six weeks. I returned a feminist.

Trisha Jha might have a gobful after recent events, but I haven’t shifted my stance. Here are a few reasons why.

Because feminism is a historical concept as well as a modern one

In the Western tradition I grew up, feminism didn’t just shape my life, it made my life possible. Hundreds of years of women and men standing up for equality and franchise preceded my mother’s dream of becoming a sailor, her decision to welch on an engagement to a very marriageable young man and leave East Germany while she still could, her ability to gadabout Venezuela’s beaches in an itty-bitty string bikini collecting boyfriends and, when one brought her to Australia, to leave him in favour of the man who eventually became my father. All without being honour-killed. Because, unpleasant though my grandfather could undoubtedly be (and he was an entitled shit of the very particular 1930s male mould) I don’t believe it ever crossed his mind to bump her off.

For all the bleating about “privilege”, the identity warriors seem blind to great Western privilege that has been conferred on them by generations of feminists. That is the privilege to live in a society in which microaggressions have largely replaced macro aggressions, to be triggered rather than silenced, to be queer, promiscuous, or pretty much anything else you can persuade someone to consent to. It is the privilege of living in a safe space, of being able to walk down most streets alone, even at night, with comparative impunity.

Because feminism is a relative concept as well as an absolute goal

My first shock in Egypt was straight off the plane. We hopped into a taxi to our hostel and I gave the directions to the driver. Nothing happened. I tried again. No response. I nudged my boyfriend, who finally got the message and gave the same directions in his less fluent English. With directions from a man, the taxi finally began to move. In the subsequent weeks, I was groped, ignored, insulted and harassed (a particular highlight was an incident in the Imam’s office of a mosque, by a man who was convinced that all Western women liked to be fucked till they bled). For the entire time we were there I felt insecure walking the streets alone, leaving me entirely dependent on my boyfriend to agree to chaperone me on the activities I wanted to undertake. When we fought, I was scared. For the first time in my life, I couldn’t just shrug him off and explore on my own terms.

Feminists haven’t just fought hard to improve our lot relative to the past; they have fought to improve it relative to other current practices. In some parts of the world, rape is still sanctioned by the state and honour killings are still culturally condoned. I am a feminist in homage to the thinkers and activists who have fought for my freedom historically and geographically.

Because I refuse to allow the word to become another casualty of linguistic appropriation

Feminism describes a movement for which no other word will do. Trish, who is despite her proclamation very much still a feminist, casts off the term to disassociate herself from the silliness of the identity warriors, who have sought to link it with the fashion for victimhood. But the word is imbued with a hundred years of significance prior to their efforts. The next word they are coming for is “tolerant”, which the identity warriors are massaging into a pejorative (it’s no longer enough to tolerate the choices of others, we have to accept, or celebrate). If we keep sloughing off words in an effort not to be dragged into their vortex, we will all be speaking un-nuanced Newspeak right on time for Orwell’s 2050 deadline. I have no appetite for a world delimited by the binary possibilities of good and ungoodthink.

Because I’m not blind to my privilege

The identity warriors like to claim that white men are blind to their own privilege. The news that triggered Trisha Jha to renounce feminism aims to teach students about male privilege, and “introduce students to the concept of ‘privilege’, which is described as ‘automatic, unearned benefits bestowed upon dominant groups’ based on ‘gender, sexuality, race or socio-economic class‘.”

If there is any group that is oblivious to the automatic benefits bestowed upon it based on gender, race or socio-economic class, it is women of the wealthy Western world, who believe that they would be where they are without the efforts of their mothers and fathers to build a tolerant, open and prosperous society. I believe that along with that privilege comes responsibility. Ours is to protect, enrich and uphold what we have been given.

I am and remain a feminist.