Opinion: Stop commodifying feminism (and all activism)
As I made my way through security in Ronald Reagan National Airport on my way back to California for winter break, I was stopped by a TSA agent as I packed up my belongings. Following airport policy, I had removed my electronics from my backpack, revealing the “I Love Consent” sticker positioned on the front side of my laptop. Our exchange was brief: they asked (in words I can’t remember) something that carried the sentiment of “What the hell is this?” and I responded with a definition of consent, what the sticker means to me and, most importantly, where it is from.