Alas, I’m perhaps not quite youthful and dimpled enough to be waving at strangers in the street any more. However, I do still find much joy in playing psychological games with the general public, where possible.

But before you decide I’m crazy for that, allow me to point out the fact the game I am about to describe is not one I exclusively engage in. It’s like an internet trend. So that makes it OK. OK? Right. 

Now that we’ve got some context in place, let me tell you about micro-feminism, the psychological game I play in times of boredom or otherwise. To my great shame, I didn’t come up with the name. But it’s a game I’ve been instinctively playing for a while now.

If you have a more balanced relationship with technology than I do, you may not have heard of micro-feminism. Fret not, that’s why I’m here! Allow me to enlighten you. Feminism (the macro one) has historically done the heavy lifting in terms of female liberation: Voting rights, the ability to own property, equal pay, paid maternity leave, not being the property of your husband, that type of thing. 

But assuming the person in charge is a woman, taking up more space than you really need on public transport, and asking men if their hormones are the reason they’re being so emotional — those are jobs for micro-feminism.

You see, if someone tries to pay me less than a male counterpart in 2026, I can easily sue. But if a man decides to spread his knees from east to west on a Dublin bus, leaving me scrunched up in the corner pretending I’m OK with it, it’s a little harder to make him rue the day. 

It is in those moments that we must perform acts of micro-feminism. If you plant your feet into the bus floor and refuse to scooch away into non-existence when someone sits beside you, you are a micro-feminist. I thank you for your service.

There are plenty of ways to practise micro-feminism. When I had a brief stint as a waitress in a cafe a few years ago, if a man and woman were sitting down to lunch, I would always speak to and serve the woman first. It wasn’t a conscious decision. But it almost always happened that way. In fact, acts of micro-feminism often happen unconsciously. All the better if you don’t have to think about it in advance, if you ask me.

Other great ways to practise micro-feminism include standing your ground when walking on a narrow footpath. If a man doesn’t feel the need to adjust his path, neither do I. If I crash into someone, so be it.

You can also ask men invasive questions like, ‘Why don’t you want kids?’ or say things like, ‘You just need to sit there and look pretty.’

Honestly, if I felt like I could get away with calling grown men that I don’t know names such as petal, flower, love, or darling, I would be doing that as well. 

Unfortunately, micro-feminism has a few more glass ceilings to shatter before we get there. But I still have hope that I will be alive to see the day.

It feels important to note that acts of micro-feminism are not actually about sending signals of misandry into the world.

One of my favourite ways of using micro-feminism is to hold doors open for men in public. Something funny happens when you take charge of a heavy door, stand back, and nod at the man in your vicinity to go through the door first. The man will often get a little flustered and awkwardly try to let me go through first. It can be a great source of entertainment while out and about.

Like Sweet and Sour, micro-feminism is a great way of figuring out the vibes of the general public. I like to keep my pulse on the gender roles of the day. And micro-feminism is a great way of taking stock.