Feminism: attractive feature or attractive deterrent?

Self-assuredness, independence, opinion and conviction in her beliefs and actions, and unafraid to speak her mind. Does it make her more attractive, or does it make her too intimidating?
I know I just have to be myself, even if I can be a bit of a loud, intimidating and nagging presence to several. Someone will like me for being just that; I know I should.
So what is it? Is it too manly to possess such qualities, too forward and thus unorthodox? Or is it just perfectly refreshing in this day and age to know what one wants?
Those are the questions, this is my story.
By the end of 8th grade I was actually happy that I was going to attend a Catholic all-girls high school; I had been sick and tired of my guy friends' antics. During my four years at Alverno, we've been assigned some books to read that are either overtly or clandestinely feminist. Among them were Kate Chopin's The Awakening, Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale and Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre. By my senior year, talks about feminism and literature in general became more philosophical, and I thought deeply about it. My teacher told us that women "carry the moral banner and have carried it proudly throughout history." She's talking about the sexual double standard, and the idea that women themselves have willingly adhered to this.
I never thought I'd have an opinion about it, because my parents, being the middle class citizens that they are, hardly ever cared about certain things with such fiery passion. Now, I realized how deep feminist values have been sown within me, and how it has become a part of me that has at last, simmered to the surface of my demeanor.
Some men are surprised I'm single, some are not. The ones who aren't surprised tell me that I carry and exude the consciousness that I don't need or want a man. Of course I don't need a man...

I'm Not That Girl

As much as I know the situation very well without obvious truths being spoken, why am I in denial? I mean, I'm not counting on sleeping tonight, I smile on the way back to my dorm, musical numbers about being in love play in my head, and I really feel it there...the tension isn't thick enough to be necessarily cut with a knife, but it's really there. But I'm denying it at the same time.
For something so exciting and positive on the surface, maybe I am afraid for lots of different reasons. Already my subconscious knows about the possible pain and the risk of losing oneself to someone else, and my mind's making excuses. I think I've mentioned it before, I value my personal freedom but I yearn for closeness at the same time. Singlehood is the risk-free decision to make, devoid of that unique joy from having a partner.
Funny how this happened three years ago, when I kept telling Jess "but I enjoy being single!" This isn't good. It's conflict, and it's not even that kind of juicy internal conflict that's novel-worthy. This kind of desire for two polar opposite things will screw me up regardless of whatever choice I make. I miss it dearly, a relationship with depth, among other things. And I've been single for years already. Being hurt is the last thing I should worry about. Oh well, here's some song lyrics to complement the mood of the post:

Hands touch, eyes meet
Sudden silence, sudden heat
Hearts leap in a giddy whirl
He could be that boy, but I'm not that girl

Don't dream too far, don't lose sight of who you are,
Don't remember that rush of joy,
He could be that boy
I'm not that girl

Every so often we long to steal, to the land of what might have been
But that doesn't soften the ache we feel when reality sets back in

Blithe smile, lithe limb,
She who's winsome, she wins him
Gold hair with a gentle curl,
That's the girl he chose
And heaven knows, I'm not that girl

Don't wish, don't start
Wishing only wounds the heart
There's a girl I know
He loves her so
I'm not that girl

"Sexually anorexic"

Last week was Women for Change week, and one of their main themes was sexual violence. It's an issue near and dear to me. The way I feel is that rape, battery, and harassment has already happened, but the best I can do is to let survivors know that it is not their fault, and advocate towards combating myths. In short, I've joined UCLA's Clothesline Project, where shirts are decorated by survivors for all to see. It's a good demonstration that no one is alone in such experiences.

Personally for me, I'm still dealing with few after-effects a little over a year since I was battered. The way I look at romance and sex is like how an anorexic looks at food. I still dream and yearn for it, and yet am celibate beyond my desires. I'm afraid that another sexual experience will render me sick, conjuring the fear I felt from what happened ago. I didn't think I'd have physical intimacy issues, but I do. I have foolishy squandered someone's feelings before, partly because I was not willing to be grinded on by him at a club (then again, who would?) . Just like the anorexic cries how he or she can't keep anything down, I am sad that I can't seem to enjoy something meant to be cherished.