I’m a feminist. And part of the reason I’m a feminist is, yes, because I believe my mother and my wife and my nieces and all the other women I know and care about are human beings and should be treated as such. But I’m also a feminist for selfish reasons. I’m the primary caretaker for our son — I stay home with him when he’s sick (there he is on the futon right now, actually, watching Doctor Who with the cat sacked out beside him). I deal with school events and playdates; I schlep him to all his activities. There was a time not so long ago where doing any of those things would have made me the object of ridicule, and quite possibly self-loathing as well. Today, though, it’s no big deal — and the reason for that is feminism.
Similarly, I’m able to work as a freelancer without health insurance because my wife has a full time job. If she couldn’t work, or if the jobs she was able to get were limited, that would directly affect my life, and very much for the worse. Wanting my wife to have more options doesn’t just come out of an abstract desire to help women-in-general somewhere over there. It comes out of a desire to have more options myself.
Feminism, in short, doesn’t just empower women. It empowers me.