21 May 2004


Women: are we equal now?


by Jennie Bristow



'It's time to get even', runs a recent campaign slogan of the UK's Equal Opportunities Commission (EOC) (1). The focus of this campaign is equal pay - and the fact that, 30 years on from the implementation of the Equal Pay Act (2), there is still a sizeable gap between the wages that men and women earn. 'You were cheap from day one', reads one of the EOC's posters. 'You don't know what your mother sacrificed for you. Neither does she', reads another. A promotional beermat provides an illustration of a weekly pay packet, with deductions for tax, national insurance and 'being a woman'. 'Something to talk about when you've covered sex, religion and politics', reads the slogan on the back.


If the idea that people still talk about politics and religion in the pub seems strange enough, the notion that they will get exercised by the gender pay gap is frankly bizarre. The experience of today's young women is light years away from the dark days of institutionalised sexual discrimination, when getting pregnant really was enough to lose you your job; the very fact that, as a woman, you might get pregnant sometime in the future was enough to stop you getting a half-decent job in the first place; and 'women's work' outside of the home was considered either a frivolity or a luxury, with low pay and status in both respects.


The generation of women now coming through education, work and political life simply does not experience the lack of equal opportunities that gave rise to bodies such as the EOC. Indeed, the EOC's new campaign against the pay gap was launched to coincide with statistics headlined, by the Office for National Statistics, 'Gender pay gap: April 2003 difference smallest on record' (3). This indicates that, whatever the barriers facing women's advancement in society now, the trend is in the direction of equality.


But there is a problem. While today's young women have the independence and opportunities that previous generations could only dream of, they don't seem all that keen to have them. From running the country to climbing the career ladder, from taking the world by storm to living life to the full, the choices opened up to this generation tend to be experienced more as problems and pressures. When the twenty- and thirtysomethings of the late 1990s came to choose the figure that best represented their lives, they plumped for Bridget Jones: that neurotic, hapless singleton, unhappy with her weight and obsessed with calories, alcohol units and cigarette intake, wanting nothing more ambitious than to find the right man. Hit TV series depicted successful, attractive women with apparently nice lives but profoundly ill at ease, engaged in a constant battle for self-definition with themselves, their friends and, above all, their lovers.


In the event that these young professional women finally get to the life-stage of marriage and motherhood, life, apparently, only becomes more fraught. No longer is the discussion about the benefits of combining work and motherhood and 'having it all'; now, it's all about the stresses of juggling bits of all of it while maintaining a sex life and conversation with one's partner and ensuring he does exactly half the household tasks. Men, meanwhile, are portrayed either as troubled victims of a fractured masculinity or unreconstructed abusers, who deal with their many inadequacies through beating their wives, preying upon small children, or just being generally 'emotionally illiterate'.


The dominant presentation of women today is certainly not the picture of confident independence once envisaged; and we are as far from a utopia, feminist or otherwise, as it is possible to be. So what has happened? How did we get from the ambitious dream of women's equality to the Noughties reality of thwarted hopes and lived insecurity? In order to understand what has gone wrong, it is worth first reminding ourselves of the positive developments that have taken place.


Indicators of equality


Even compared to our mothers' generation, young women in the UK today take for granted a raft of freedoms, opportunities and choices that did not exist for women in the past. Take any statistical indicator of women's role in the public world of education, work or politics, and it is clear that today's generation of women can and does participate to a far greater extent than any generation before. Furthermore, when the extent of their participation is contrasted, not to yesterday's women but to today's men, the argument that women's inequality persists is increasingly hard to justify.


In education, girls, who were once considered less worthy of a decent education, now outstrip their male counterparts at almost every stage. In UK schools in 2002, a greater proportion of girls than boys were at the expected key stage level at all ages in all subjects. Over half of girls achieved five or more GCSE qualifications at grades A to C, compared to under half of boys; and a higher proportion of girls than boys achieved two or more A-levels or equivalent. A greater proportion of young women than men is in full-time study aged 16 to 18, and there are more female undergraduates than male in higher education: both full and part time. Even in those abstract, specialised areas that were once dominated by men, to the chagrin of those who championed women's equality, women now seem to be doing as well if not better than their male counterparts: maths and science, medicine, professional and managerial vocational qualifications (4).


In work, too, women have made significant strides forward. In 2002, the working-age employment rate for women in the UK was, at 69.6 per cent, at its highest level ever. The rate for men was 9.7 percentage points above this, at about 80 per cent; however, the gap between the two has been narrowing steadily over the decades (5). When it comes to getting to the top of their professions, women are still a minority - but they are doing better than ever before. A document boldy titled 'Women pass a milestone: 101 directorships on FTSE 100 boards', produced by the Cranfield University School of Management's Centre for Developing Business Leaders in 2003, trumpeted the fact that there are more women directors than ever on the boards of leading companies. While female-held seats comprise only 8.6 per cent of the total, there appears to be a steady, if slow, increase (6).


In other areas of life, women's increased participation is obvious. The reins of power are no longer held by men alone: Britain has had its female prime minister, and following the New Labour general election victory in 1997, there are more women in Parliament than ever before. Still, less than a fifth of all MPs are women, but this is double the proportion even 10 years ago, and more than quadruple the proportion that existed from 1918 through to the early 1980s (7). From the church to the intelligence services, it is not a surpise to see influential institutions and sections of society headed by women. Women are in the army, in the police force, and even in that bastion of Male England, Lords Cricket Club. When it comes to formal segregation, the only glaring example is the persistent refusal of St Hilda's college, Oxford, to let in the boys.


These indicators all show a clear trend in the direction of women achieving equality with men. Of course, they also show that there is not a 50/50 gender split - that women who outsmart men in education seem to lose out later down the line. This is often taken as evidence that gender discrimination persists, and as basis for calls to fast-track women to higher positions. As the Cranfield School of Management concludes, 'Girls are achieving the best results in schools and universities, but that is not reflected in their careers.... We urge companies to develop women executive directors as well as appoint more female NEDs [non-executive directors]. Gender diversity on the board makes sound business sense' (8). But a look at the broader reasons why there is a continuing disparity between men and women at the top of their professions, and between their pay at work, indicates that the kind of positive discrimination strategy proposed by Cranfield and others may be neither warranted nor effective.


What statistics that attempt to show the position of all women in society compared to that of all men tend to miss is the difference between generations. Women at the top of their profession today tend to have started their careers 20, 30 or 40 years ago, when there were many more real barriers to their advancement in society, from women's relatively low levels of education and qualification to the cultural norm that expected them to take a career break to raise their children.


Today's young women, by contrast, are starting their careers on an equal footing to men, and moving through their careers surrounded by a very different set of social norms and attitudes. The rise in availability and acceptability of contraception and abortion has taken place alongside a more flexible attitude towards women's sexual behaviour; cohabition or even single living have become respectable alternatives to marriage; lone parenthood is not condemned and it is not taken for granted that women will grow up to become mothers.


Even the 'gender pay gap' is not so clear a disparity as it seems. As the Department of Trade and Industry's Women and Equality Unit explains, the pay gap of 18 per cent is based on mean, or average, earnings, which is easily distorted by very high and very low earnings (9). As the Office for National Statistics points out, the differences in the average hourly pay of men and women 'does not necessarily indicate differences in rates of pay for comparable jobs', as it reflects different occupations, the length of time in jobs, and the amount of overtime worked (10).


Women do tend to be concentrated in lower paid occupations, which reduces their relative pay. But in an age of educational parity and anti-discrimination legislation, the extent to which women choose to be, say, nurses and teachers rather than doctors and lawyers, cannot be ignored. There are clearly some broader pressures that affect women's career choices - the most obvious being the need to look after children. Yet the situation regarding working mothers has changed dramatically in recent years (11), and the question of choice remains key. As one analysis of the 2002 Labour Force Survey explains: 'The majority of women work full time but they are more likely than men to be working part time or in temporary jobs. However, only a minority do so because they cannot find a full-time or permanent job' (12).


The pay gap is also calculated without reference to generational differences. When these are stripped out, the picture is far less stark than the 18 percent figure implies. For women aged 40 to 64, the mean pay gap in 1997 ranged from 20 to 27 per cent, and in 2003 from between 15 to 24 percent. For women aged 18 to 29, by contrast, the pay gap in 1997 ranged from three to nine per cent, and by 2003 from three to five per cent (13). For young childless women today, it is hard to see the gender pay gap as an issue of major concern. And as those women have children and grow older, we can expect to see the pay gap for thirty- and fortysomethings shrinking further, as the hangover from past inequality continues to recede.


So then, are we equal now? The statistical trends indicate that, in the UK at least, yes we are. A combination of legislation surrounding issues like equal pay and maternity rights, an opening up of the labour market and social institutions to women's increased participation, the ability to manage our fertility, and a shift in the cultural norm that sees women as economically independent individuals rather than as wives-and-mothers-in-waiting all contributes to a situation where there are few formal barriers to women taking over the world.


But formal barriers and statistics do not tell the whole story. The 'women question' has never been reducible to women's relative position to men, but is a broader question about how society organises itself around the competing pressures of waged work, politics, childcare and leisure time. While recent years have brought increased flexibility and equality for women, this is in a context where social, political and economic ambitions are at an all-time low. This has raised the broader question: what does equality actually mean?


Public v private


The 2003 edition of the respected British Social Attitudes survey finds that, over the past two decades, 'attitudes to working mothers have become more positive'. In 1989, it states, 'over a quarter (28 per cent) thought that a woman's job was to look after the home; now only 17 per cent think this' (14). The Equal Opps lobby would be shrill in its condemnation of the sixth of the UK population that still subscribes to that arcane notion that 'a woman's place is in the home'. But this old adage represents the very basis of the modern family, traditionally referred to as the 'bedrock' of capitalist society. It is quite remarkable that so few today hold this view - and still fewer dare to articulate it.


Modern industrial society has been characterised by a stark division between the public world of work, politics and social life, and the private world of domestic tasks and family nurturing; and this division happened for a reason. Not, as a certain strand of feminist thinking would put it, because of some kind of patriarchal conspiracy designed to perpetuate male feelings of superiority by keeping women down; nor because society has seen women as physically incapable of hard work or intellectually incapable of social participation.


Rather, this situation emerged because it suited the demands of the market to have a space outside of the direct discipline of the market in which the workforce can keep itself healthy and reasonably happy, and raise a new generation. A whole web of arguments and social norms grew up to justify the 'natural' and desirable state of the family, and women's role in running it while men went out into the world and earned the bread. Religion, science, morality, politics and culture gave an exalted status to a pragmatic reality: that as a mode of social organisation, the family served its purpose; and the way to ensure that it kept on working was to keep women in a subordinate position.


But the modern family is not 'natural', women's inferiority is not given, and capitalist society is not capable of preserving social stability in the face of other priorities. The tensions caused by disenfranchising large sections of society resulted in women being given the right to vote, and a de facto stake in the public arena; the pressures of the first and second world wars resulted in mass female participation in the labour market, to be subsequently chased back into the home as stereotyped 1950s housewives; secularisation and contraception were byproducts of scientific progress, both of which had significant consequences for the way women's role was seen; and the culture wars of the 1960s and 70s lauded the virtues of sexual liberation and non-traditional relationships at the expense of the nuclear family and the stay-at-home mother.


Throughout history, society has had to show itself capable of adapting, albeit in a piecemeal fashion, to new political demands and social priorities, which have impacted upon women's position. Back in the 1970s, fewer women had a higher education, fewer mothers of young children worked, and fewer women were in positions of power - but it was not unheard of, and that generation of women experienced significant gains compared with the generation before. By a similar token, it is important to note that while today's family structures are more diverse, the family is still the basic unit of society, and women still tend to take most responsibility for childcare.


But something has changed in recent years that means it would be wrong to see women's current position in society, and the tensions within that discussion, as a straightforward progression. For a society that still relies very clearly on the privatised, domestic role played by the family, the extent to which women's relative equality to men has galloped ahead raises some wider questions. How can society hope to accommodate to men and women alike pursuing their public ambitions while maintaining a stable domestic life? Has not something got to give?


Yes, it has - but it's not to do with women's relative position to men. What has given, and what allows men and women to participate fully and equally in today's society, is any large social vision that makes such participation desirable. Today's women are faced with the opportunities traditionally offered by equality, and finding that these opportunities are not up to much. Every experience in the public world that previous generations of women fought to be a part of has become somehow diminished, both for women and for men.


A diminished public sphere


The world of work once represented a genuine opportunity for women to play an independent, public role in society. Women's ability to support themselves financially, as opposed to being dependent upon their husbands, was viewed as a crucial step forward in enabling women to make their own life decisions, and control their destiny on the most basic level.


Work also enabled women to form social solidarities, make a public contribution and channel their ambitions into something bigger than their family and children, all of which contrasted sharply and favourably with the narrow, privatised world of domestic life. During the 1980s, women's mass entrance into the labour market and their slow rise through corporations and other institutions of public life gave rise to the image of the smart, ambitious career girl, with a whole world to play for, and the female boss showing that women could lead society just as well as - if not better than - men.


Now, however, the world of work is popularly viewed as that bit less exciting. Everybody is expected to work - indeed, the current government is engaged in a continuing project to get everybody from single mothers to disabled people to early retirees to middle-class stay-at-home mums back into the labour market, to minimise perceived social isolation and ensure that individuals make a quantifiable contribution to society. But back in the real working world, ambivalence about work is expressed from the toppest of bosses to the lowest of temporary workers.


Companies - egged on by the government - worry over 'work-life balance', and the need to ensure that their staff have personal lives too. The notion of the for-life career has been replaced - in image, if not quite in reality - with the idea of the 'portfolio career', consisting of a series of short-term temporary jobs. Popular culture, from the hit UK sitcom The Office to the professional apologism of This Life and Teachers, highlights the petty pointlessess of work and the heightened preoccupation with personal life and leisure time. Social solidarities, from trade unions to informal bonds between long-term colleagues, have become transformed into tenuous, temporary relationships between disparate individuals, mediated through the boss or a workplace counsellor.


A similar transformation has happened at the level of education. Women, once effectively excluded from higher education and the places that led to, are now arguably better educated or qualified than men, and have full access to the highest education that society has to offer. But as the annual discussions about grade inflation, 'dumbing down', and the lack of academic rigour indicate, higher education is no longer the holy grail that it once was, and educated women find themselves wondering what their degree actually means.


Politics - once an effectively all-male club - has opened up dramatically to women, with the first New Labour government heralding in a record number of female MPs. But who is inspired by these politics? Who wants to become a Blair's Babe, elected on a women-only shortlist and destined to campaign against fox-hunting and top-up fees, or for yet more legislation dealing with sexual perversions or domestic violence? As the world of politics has opened out to women, the world itself has shrunk.


Even the less worthy side of the public world seems like a pale imitation of its former self. With women's independence comes a far greater opportunity for individual enjoyment than ever. Women can publicly drink, smoke and take drugs; they can party all night, shop till they drop, sleep around and have platonic friends of both sexes. The single woman can experience a full bachelor-life and the married woman hangs out with her partner as an equal - a far cry, indeed, from the days of segregated leisure-time.


But while women can live life to the full, both women and men find themselves guilt-tripped to the hilt. Every moment in which playtime is enjoyed is recycled as a problem, of drinking too much or smoking too much or spending too much or laying oneself vulnerable to a sexual disease. Furthermore, with work exposed as unfulfilling, play becomes the site for self-improvement and personal ambition, whether that involves going to the gym or travelling the world to expand one's horizons. As we have become more open to playing around, we find ourselves confronted by therapeutic warning signs all over the playground.


The feminisation of society


A useful term for describing the diminishing of the public sphere is the 'feminisation of society'. Women's changing position in society has been accompanied with a major shift in the values of public life, away from the traditional 'masculine' values of reason, ambition and the stiff upper lip, towards what are understood as more 'feminine' values of emotion and empathy. It is important to understand, however, that these new 'feminised' values are not so benign as they seem; and society's espousal of them do women no favours.


From the promotion of the natural environment over industrial development to the inexorable rise of therapy over the positive promotion of individual resilience, the kind of virtues lauded by society today seem to be the exact opposite of those a few decades ago. The grand visions of the past, to do with scientific progress, economic growth, political ideology and individual conquest and achievement, are viewed today as indications of Man's historical arrogance, for which we now have to cope with the consequences. So our newly feminised world teaches us humility, caring, compromise, respect for nature and making do with our lot: 'juggling', as Cherie Blair would put it, the problems of the modern world.


This value shift is often perceived as a good thing; as a result of women shaping the world the way that they want it to be. But in a different interpretation, the fact that women seem better able to adapt to this new value system is something of an irony. Women have been liberated into a society that lauds the very values traditionally associated with subordinate wifedom - humility, self-denial, dependence, passivity - and wants these to apply to everybody. Men are instructed in emotional intelligence, young adults are encouraged in their infantilism, and women's historically shaped grasp of petty interpersonal tensions is promoted as invaluable people skills. So much for making it in a man's world - in the prevailing ethos of our times, we're all little women now.


This value shift is not a positive move forward; and it is no more 'feminine' than ironing skills or bad driving. Rather, it represents the exhaustion of old traditions, institutions and ideologies without their replacement with any dynamic new social project. In policy terms, this feminisation became apparent in 1997, and the election of New Labour - the party of emotional literacy and political correctness, which immediately tailored parliamentary debate to family-friendly hours and whose prime minister shed tears for Diana, dead Princess of Wales. In real terms, the feminisation of public life, its institutions and values, is a consequence of a far more profound change: the collapse of competing visions of society, and the growth of the politics of There Is No Alternative.


Without the clash between distinct visions of how society should be organised, represented in the historic battle between the politics of left and right, the core institutions and values that traditionally defined public life have become rootless and apparently irrelevant. What is Parliament for, when society's big debates have already been decided? What do trade unions do, when there is no workers' movement for them to lead or represent? What is the purpose of higher education, when it is assumed that the key questions have already been answered, and it is often thought that a key problem of modernity is that we have too much knowledge?


Lacking any bold, future-orientated purpose, the institutions of public life become instruments of effective management. Higher education becomes skills training for work, trade unions become mechanisms for addressing individual grievances between personnel, and politics becomes focused upon managing people's relationships with one another within a society that, it is assumed, will never change fundamentally. Soothing, healing, controlling and interfering - the activities of the authorities come to mimic those traditionally associated with wife- and motherhood, as their focus comes to rest upon getting people to behave in the here and now. Public discourse, meanwhile, comes to mirror dinner-party etiquette, with anger and argument outlawed in favour of empathy and polite consensus. As the public world becomes more 'feminised', the private world seems to become more problematised.


The problematisation of the private sphere


The feminisation of society means the lauding of many of the values associated with the private, domestic sphere. It does not, however, mean the celebration of the private sphere itself. The emptying out of the public sphere has not been accompanied by a retreat into the private. Rather, privacy, intimacy, and self-reliance - once core values of the nuclear family - are greeted with increasing suspicion. One paradox of our modern times is that, at the very time when sexual equality allows for more freedom and choice in personal, intimate relationships, based on equal love more than subordination and economic necessity, personal relationships have come to seem highly problematic.


The fictional character Bridget Jones became an icon, not just of thirtysomething women, but as thirty-something single women. Her plight illustrated the strange predicament of individuals seeking partners in what is fast becoming a singleton society - a society where people grow into adulthood equal, but alone; where being single is no longer some kind of pathology, but an acceptable lifestyle choice. People are marrying later and later, if at all: the number of marriages in England and Wales in 2001 was the lowest since 1897, and the average age of first marriage has increased to 31 years for men and 28 years for women (15). The proportion of one-person households in Britain increased from 18 to 29 per cent between 1971 and 2003, while over half of men aged 20 to 24 and over one third of women were still living at home with their parents (16).


The fact that the number of marriages is declining, and the number of one-person households is rising, indicates that it is not just the institution of marriage falling out of vogue here, but the for-life relationship. Across the Western world, the fertility rate is declining at a startling pace: indeed, between 1971 and 2002, the number of children aged under 16 in the UK fell by 18 per cent (17). The burgeoning 'Childfree', or 'Childless by choice', movement indicates that the drift away from parenthood is not altogether accidental, or viewed as a negative thing.


Many aspects of singleton society are a product of the social and morality shifts of the 1960s, and as such represent new freedoms. The ability to sleep around, to live together outside marriage, to live as a homosexual couple, to avoid and end an unwanted pregnancy, even to be able, as a woman, to procure and afford a mortgage in her own right are unequivocally positive developments. In this context, it would be expected and welcomed that people live the single life for longer before settling down with their life partner, or that they actively choose a different lifestyle that suits them better.


But it is one thing for the traditional framework governing personal relationships to be discarded as repressive, and replaced with a more relaxed and rewarding approach to intimacy. It is another for every aspect of that framework to become re-presented as increasingly difficult, even dangerous; and that is what is happening today. Whether it involves marriage or not, long-term commitment is presented as horrendously complicated, requiring professional monitoring and counselling.


Marriage is viewed as a site for domestic violence and emotional abuse; long-term relationships are almost expected to fail the moment any new pressure, from a job loss to a bereavement to the birth of a child, is put upon them. Parenthood has been turned into a profession, by an army of experts dedicated to pointing out the pitfalls and producing blueprints for perfect parenting. Even the new freedoms that we do have are thwarted by fear and mistrust, as we are warned that casual sex leads to AIDS and casual dating leads to rape. Far from being relaxed about sex and intimacy, today's society often seems to view sex as a disease and relationships as toxic: a danger to individuals' health and self-esteem.


This generalised culture of mistrust, coupled with a basic human desire to fall in love, means that the Bridget Jones generation is torn between rejoicing in its choices and freedoms and rejecting the loneliness of singleton society; between fearing the consequences of commitment and desperately seeking The One to whom it can gives its heart for life. Combine this with the frustrations of a narrow, shallow public world that provides few obvious outlets for individuals' ambitions or alternative focuses for their passions, and the upshot is a public obsession with personal life. Ironically, nowhere is this clearer than in the debates about sexual equality.


If women have finally achieved equality with men, it is not because society has made radical structural changes to remove the basis of this inequality, but because it has been able to exploit the current period of political stability and economic flexibility to allow for large-scale, but low-grade, participation by both sexes. This means that while the tensions between women's and men's roles, between the demands of the public and private worlds, are less stark than in previous times, they have not disappeared entirely. Fraught debates about childcare provision, 'work-life balance' and the 'second shift' of housework following paid work all indicate the extent to which society has not yet 'got it right' on the question of how the demands of home and work are best managed.


In the past, the recognition of such tensions would lead to a scrutiny of society, and social policy - with demands for such things as 24-hour childcare, employment rights and greater socialisation of private tasks. Now, however, there is no such social vision - if there is no alternative to society as it currently is, there is considered to be little mileage in placing demands on society as whole to transform. Consequently, the cause of the tensions between men's and women's expected roles are posed in personal, private terms; and the solutions are considered to be changes in individual attitude and behaviour.


So, for example, the heat is on fathers to show that they are truly involved in their children's parenting. Survey after survey finds that women think they do more than men around the home, from which the conclusion is drawn that men must change their behaviour. The fact that generations of power imbalance and tension-causing living arrangements can cause couples to have bitter rows is discussed as widespread domestic violence; the fact it can cause problems in the workplace is treated as the major new concern of sexual harassment.


When society can no longer be considered at fault, because it is considered impossible to change it, the identification of problems and solutions is boiled down to the question of relationships between individuals, and their inability to play nicely. In this way, the debate surrounding sexual equality today is actively destructive. It exaggerates the extent of the problem, misdiagnoses its cause, and by way of a solution it sets up barriers between people that need not exist at all.


Moving on


On balance, it is fair to say that today's younger generation of women, and those who follow them, have achieved equality with men. Whatever the limitations and frustrations of this experience, it is something to celebrate. No longer does half the population have its opportunities limited and its creativity denied simply because of an accident of nature; no longer are personal, intimate relationships warped by subordination. These shifts are welcome not least because they show the limitations of feminism - a divisive, short-termist ideology that pitted the sexes against each other, and limited its ambitions to relative equality for women rather than qualitative improvements for all.


But for more radical thinkers, the promise of women's equality was never reducible to an equal participation in a mundane world. It was part of a more transformative demand - for a society that could absorb the creativity of all its adult members in the public world, effectively care for and socialise new generations, and throw off the social restrictions and conservative moral conventions surrounding intimate and interpersonal relationships.


No such transformation has taken place today. Just as the washing machine meant, not that women were liberated from domestic tasks but that clothes were washed more often, women's large-scale participation in the workforce alongside a system of expensive, inflexible daycare and flexible employment rights has not lessened the tension between public work and private life. Now, both mothers and fathers find themselves irresolvably torn between the demands of work and family, distracted from fulfilling their potential in the public world while guilt-tripped out of the fulfilment of parenting. For that growing proportion of non-parents, caught up in the angst-ridden culture of singleton society, it is not as though society has thrown off the restrictive conventions surrounding intimacy so much as that is has developed new ones guarding against the dangers of long-term heterosexual coupledom.


What these developments indicate is that, while there are many problems facing men and women in today's society, relative sexual equality is no longer one of them. That society has overcome this barrier at last proves the point that feminism always denied: that men and women have more in common than that which divides us. Whatever stops women from achieving their goal today, it will not be the existence or behaviour of the men next to them; and whatever problems we face are not resolvable at a personal level. This awareness gives greater scope than ever for a discussion about where we, as a society rather than a sex, want to go.


However, that society seems to have overcome the barriers to women's equality, not by enabling women to play a fuller role so much as by allotting a narrower, more meagre role to both sexes, is not a welcome situation for anybody. It limits our horizons, narrows our imaginations, and encourages an obsessive preoccupation on the personal and petty aspects of our lives. Rather than accepting that this is progress, for which we should be thankful, we should be developing a broader debate about how to make the most of our lives as they are, and society as it could be. We've got even - so what next?


Jennie Bristow is author of Maybe I Do?: Marriage and Commitment in Singleton Society, published as part of the Institute of Ideas' Conversations in Print series. Respondents to her essay include Fay Weldon (novelist), Yvonne Roberts (author), Ed Straw (Relate), Eddie Gibb (Demos), and Bel Mooney (author).


To order a copy, email info@instituteofideas.com, telephone 020 7269 9220 or see the Institute of Ideas website.


(1) It's time to get even , Equal Opportunities Commission


(2) Equal pay act 1970 (as amended) (.pdf), Equal Opportunities Commission


(3) Gender Pay Gap: April 2003 difference smallest on record, Office for National Statistics


(4) Facts about Women and Men in Great Britain 2003, Equal Opportunities Commission


(5) Trends in female employment 2002, Labour Market Trends, Office for National Statisics


(6) Women pass a milestone: 101 directorships on FTSE 100 boards (.pdf), Cranfield University School of Management


(7) Women in the House of Commons (.pdf), House of Commons Information Office


(8) Women pass a milestone: 101 directorships on FTSE 100 boards (.pdf), Cranfield University School of Management


(9) For the past two years, the pay gap has also been presented by using the median - the level at which 50 per cent earn more, and 50 per cent earn less. Using this form of measurement, the gender pay is 12.9 per cent. See The gender pay gap in Great Britain, Women and Equality Unit


(10) Gender Pay Gap: April 2003 difference smallest on record, Office for National Statistics


(11) In 2001, only 21 per cent of women with a child under the age of 10 worked full-time, with 40 per cent working part-time: compared to 50 per cent (full-time) and 23 per cent (part-time) of women without children. This clearly has an impact upon women's relative incomes, and their progression through their chosen career. Again, though, broader factors need to be taken into consideration. Compared to the past, when a working mother (particularly full-time, with young children) was a rarity, the fact that one quarter of today's mothers of young children work full-time - rising to 38 per cent of mothers with children aged between 11 and 15, and 42 per cent with children aged betwene 16 and 18 - indicates a clear shift in the social norm. See Women in the labour market: results from the spring 2001 LFS (.pdf), Labour Market Trends, Office for National Statistics


(12) Trends in female employment 2002 (.pdf), Labour Market Trends, Office for National Statistics


(13) The gender pay gap in Great Britain, Women and Equality Unit


(14) British Social Attitudes: the 20th Report (.pdf)


(15) Marriages and divorces in 2001, adoptions in 2002, Office for National Statistics, 15 July 2003


(16) Social Trends 34 - a portrait of British society, Office for National Statistics 29 January 2004


(17) Social Trends 34 - a portrait of British society, Office for National Statistics 29 January 2004




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Big Sister Is Watching You

Canadian criminologist Neil Boyd tackles his latest controversy: feminism's 'sexual McCarthyism'


NEIL BOYD KNOWS how to stir a pot. In the past 16 years, he's denounced mandatory minimum sentences for murderers, promoted decriminalizing marijuana, and argued that biology, not culture, is primarily responsible for male aggression. You might think this last position, which he staked out in The Beast Within (2000), puts the Simon Fraser University criminologist in league with another group of biological reductionists, radical feminists. Think again. With his most recent book, Big Sister (Greystone Books), Boyd, a self-described equality feminist, takes on what he calls "extreme feminism." Its doctrine that women are victims of an aggressive male sexuality, he argues, has infiltrated North American laws regulating pornography, sexual harassment, sexual assault and domestic violence. In the process, it's spawned a "sexual McCarthyism" that undermines feminism as a whole.

This is tricky territory. As Boyd acknowledges, he risks creating a backlash against all struggles for women's equality. Yet there's another reason he needs to tread carefully around his subject: it's been done before. His main targets, American anti-pornography crusaders Catharine MacKinnon and Andrea Dworkin, are two of the most prominent -- and lambasted -- feminists on the continent. And his criticisms of the two are familiar: they head an Orwellian sorority that encourages women not only to make questionable claims about their intimate experiences, but to see themselves as victims.

Fortunately, the author does more than simply revisit old debates. He examines the way extreme feminist values have insinuated themselves into certain legal principles. In detailing an array of disconcerting recent cases, he makes the point that if the public debate over the effects of extreme feminism has cooled, the risk it poses to civil rights in the U.S. and Canada has not.

Boyd also raises his eyebrows at some of the claims made to support Big Sister politics: that only two per cent of women lie about rape (the reality, he insists, is perhaps as high as 20 per cent); that up to 50 per cent of women will be assaulted by someone they know (he says less than nine per cent of women are battered); that mandatory arrest for wife assault always reduces the likelihood the batterer will strike again (not according to three case studies on the issue).

These are powerful arguments that do seem to invite a backlash. But Boyd is careful to emphasize that women are still in need of certain legal protections (the overwhelming majority, he stresses, don't lie about rape, and men are 10 times more likely than women to kill). Feminism, he writes, "continues to be the most important social movement of the last century." Still, he leaves the back door ajar for anti-feminists. Because he doesn't adequately address the fact that the old laws weren't working for women, an unforgiving reader might conclude we should go back to the way things were. Similarly, in his final chapter, Boyd calls for greater sexual tolerance but fails to suggest how his vision differs from what was on offer in the 1970s -- a fairly sexually tolerant decade, but hardly a feminist utopia. (More helpfully, he advocates a shift from blame-seeking to problem-solving within the justice system.)

Boyd also unwisely takes on what he sees as the breeding ground of extreme feminism: women's studies departments. He acknowledges that many produce "excellent scholarship," but argues they've outlived their usefulness. Women, he writes, "have taken their rightful place in academia," where they now make up about half of law and medical faculties. Fair enough -- channelling feminists into separate departments tends to ghettoize their research. But the picture Boyd paints is incomplete. While the gender scales are roughly balanced among students, women occupied just 38 per cent of Canadian tenure-track faculty positions last year and a mere 18 per cent of Canada Research Chairs. Feminists may have some reason to hold on to their ghetto for a little while longer.




Independent Women's Forum




IWF in the Media: National Post


"Selling Out Our Veiled Sisters" by Elizabeth Nickson

National Post (Canada), July 10, 2004

Last week, the Independent Women's Forum, a right-leaning U.S. non-profit group, published a list of 25 prominent women in the new Iraq. Pre-Saddam Hussein, Iraq had been one of the Middle East's most forward-looking countries, one of the first to grant women the vote. Under Saddam, not only was voting a joke, but women were habitually imprisoned, raped and tortured. Some even were hanged by their own feet during menstruation, so they became "poisoned by the infection generated by their own blood," according to Affra al-Barak, who spent seven years in an Iraqi prison and now runs a free clinic in Baghdad.

Today, women hold the following portfolios in the Iraqi Interim Government: Agriculture, Environment, Immigration, Labour, Municipalities and Public Works, and, of course, Women's Affairs. When Iraq holds free elections, 25 percent of the seats in the new Parliament will be held by women. Voters will be guarded by more than 100,000 U.S. and allied soldiers. Canadian soldiers will not be there.

In Afghanistan right now, as groups of Afghani women travel around the country registering female voters, U.S. soldiers are running interference, defending their rights. The Taliban, of course, are not interested in women voting.

Do "mainstream" feminists even comment on these changes, much less praise the U.S. government for its work? Crashing silence from their hundreds of publications.

The disconnect between Western feminists and Middle Eastern women has been critical. The Beijing Women's conference of 1995 identified the Middle East as the region most in need of attention. Just virtuous bloviating, as it turns out.

Since then, the situation has deteriorated. The 2003 Cairo Conference on Violence and Arab Women found that the doctrine of aib, Arabic for shame, brands women who forsake the home for the workplace. More and more, Arab women are veiling, from 20 percent in Lebanon and Syria to 80 percent in Iraq and Kuwait. Women living on their own are outcast. Fifty percent are illiterate. Men can divorce women on a whim, but when women choose divorce, it takes years. If granted, she typically must give up her dowry, children and most of her possessions.

Honour killings, whereby women are killed by members of their family for being raped or marrying against parents' wishes, are still punished lightly, if at all. Islamist groups in Algeria and other Arab nations rape and kidnap women, and no action is taken by the government.

Pre-9/11, like every other sentient Western female, I received e-mail after e-mail urging me to pressure "our government" to do something about the plight of women under the Taliban. Well, guess what: Something was done. But As Neil Boyd describes in Big Sister: How Extreme Feminism Has Betrayed the Fight for Sexual Equality, the hard left stance of feminism precludes acknowledgement.


The history behind this disconnect is revealed by an extraordinary memoir. Azar Nafisi's Reading Lolita in Tehran, which has sat on the New York Times bestseller list for most of this year, last week at number one, is a brutally frank account of what happened when Islamists took over Iran. Nafisi's father was the youngest mayor of Tehran, and his family descended from poets and intellectuals. Nafisi, who was educated in the United States, was a Leftist who worked to get the Shah thrown out of power, and in 1979, went home to celebrate the fruits of the revolution she'd helped create -- to watch, for the next 20 years, as friend after colleague after acquaintance after family member was arrested, tortured and assassinated.

A turning point arrived for her when a highly respected woman judge was put in a sack and stoned to death by government thugs. The melding of the hard Communist left with religious extremists had created one of the most brutal governments in history. This was a regime bent on replacing your own thoughts with theirs. If you resisted, you were killed. A pair of pink socks peeking out from under a chador meant arrest, imprisonment, and if the guards were so inclined, death.

"My generation complained of a loss, the void in our lives that was created when our past was stolen from us," Nafisi says. "Yet we had a past to compare with the present; we had memories and images of what had been taken away. But my girls spoke constantly of stolen kisses, films they had never seen, and the wind they had never felt on their own faces. This generation had no past."

Nafisi's architect husband regrets his early, thoughtless hard-left activism. We'll live with this guilt for the rest of our lives, he tells her, as they finally make their plans to leave their beloved country. Western feminism will live with that guilt too.






Saving feminism from the hijackers


Saturday, Jul 3, 2004

Big Sister:

How Extreme Feminism

Has Betrayed the Fight

for Sexual Equality

By Neil Boyd

Greystone, 211 pages, $22.95

When I started playing squash, I did some very stupid things. I would run into walls, fail to duck when a ball was headed straight toward me and hit myself with my own racquet. This went on for a very long time (two years), and it left me tattooed with an odd assortment of bruises and welts. They were everywhere, up and down my arms and thighs, and in the summer there was no covering them up. In the streets, women would stop and stare, looking searchingly into my eyes, their message writ large in their horrified expressions: "Some man did this to you, didn't he?"

And that, in a nutshell, is Neil Boyd's complaint with the new generation of radical feminists. They blame men for everything. It all began when Boyd was appointed chairman of the harassment tribunal at Simon Fraser University. He seemed like the perfect choice. A professor of criminology, a lawyer and a one-time parole officer, Boyd was also a committed feminist. Or so he thought. But he soon found himself embroiled in a case in which a female student had lied about being raped. It got worse. An innocent man was fired without due process; the university refused to back down when he was exonerated, and the women's studies department rallied around the supposed victim. Boyd started to wonder: What had happened to the feminism of his youth?

Big Sister is a book that is looking for a fight. It is controversial, deliberately so, and its self-proclaimed mission is not to trash feminism but to rescue it from those who have hijacked it. "My opposition," Boyd explains, "is to a poisonous strain of feminism, a concoction of regressive policies only masquerading as belonging to a vanguard of progressive thought or action. The people behind these policies oppose free expression and due process and favour solving complex problems through an inflexible imposition of punishment by the state."

They are, he writes elsewhere, "a cadre of radical extremists who are spouting bogus science and silencing their critics with a combination of illogical mantras and vicious tirades." Even worse, in their prudery and intolerance, they have made common cause with "the evangelicals who want paintings and sculptures of naked women or men removed from the workplace and from all forms of advertising."

Boyd gives four examples where radical feminists have gone too far: They are intolerant of all pornography; they have defined sexual harassment in ways that are too vague and that ultimately infantilize women; they are apt to define any male sexual advance as rape; and they exaggerate the extent to which women are the victims of domestic violence. These are sweeping claims, to say the very least, and some are more convincing than others. Boyd is right to tell us to relax about pornography, but his remarks about domestic violence are less convincing. The numbers may have been exaggerated, but that does not mean that the problem is in any respect trivial.

This is a serious book. The title is off-putting. And it is about a movement that is not exactly famous for its sense of humour. I did not expect Big Sister to be entertaining or even funny, and yet it was both. In many ways, it reminded me of David Lodge's academic spoofs. The reader is treated to an insider's view of the squabbles, both personal and ideological, that are the stuff of academe. At times, the book is downright gossipy, not that this is a complaint. Did you know that a certain prominent academic who shall go nameless lost her virginity at the age of 27? Did you know that the feminist lawyer and pundit Catharine MacKinnon has Republicans in her family?

Case histories further enliven the narrative. Who, for example, can forget the story of the developers who were contemplating buying land next to a Hooters restaurant? What they had to say on the subject and what they planned to name the property (Hootersville, Twin Peaks, etc.) ultimately cost them $250,000 in damages.

Boyd is writing about academics, but he does not write like one. That, combined with a certain acerbity, makes Big Sister a good read. (It also helps that it is short.) The book is free of the usual jargon, and it even includes a well-deserved swipe at postmodernism and its pernicious effects on critical thinking. Postmodernism, we read, "encourages a mushy-headed kind of moral relativism," in which "subjective interpretations of reality are preferable to objective interpretations." From this it follows, "If you think you are a victim, you are." Too true.

You do not have to agree with all or even any of Boyd's points. But even if you disagree, you will find that they are well-intended, constructive and well-informed. There is, it is true, an element of épater le bourgeois in Big Sister, but its larger goal, to promote a feminism that is more inclusive and just a little more playful, may make Boyd more converts than enemies.

Jessica Warner is a research scientist at the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health and an assistant professor of psychiatry at the University of Toronto. She is the author of Craze: Gin and Debauchery in an Age of Reason and the forthcoming John the Painter.


The F word
"Feminism" turns off a lot of younger women. Is it time to retire the word -- or reclaim it?

By Rebecca Traister

July 5, 2005  |  A couple of years ago I interviewed a big-eyed activist-actress whose work and politics I have always admired. I asked her a question related to feminism. Her response? That she didn't like the word "feminist" and preferred "humanist."

What a crock, I thought, with the same disdain I once felt for a high-school classmate who memorably piped up that though she was "totally not a feminist," she wondered if Mr. Rochester's willingness to treat Jane Eyre badly and imprison Bertha in an attic might indicate a low-level misogyny. It was a fair observation, I thought at the time. Why did she have to preface it with personal disavowal? Did she think that the expression of such a sentiment brought her close enough to a militant conception of feminism that her lissome 10th-grade body might dramatically sprout armpit hair?

It's no great news that "feminism" -- the word and, by extension, the movement -- has an image problem. Women of all ages and colors have, at turns, bristled at the term, embraced it, lauded it and disdained it, practically since it was coined. However, after years of soldiering on under the burden of a heavily loaded word, a new crop of progressive and politically active women are finally addressing the problem. Some are looking to reinvigorate "feminist" by laying claim to the word -- a new magazine and a recent book are both cheekily titled "The F Word" -- while others are contemplating new words and phrases to employ in the fight for women's equality. After years of quiet debate, women are tackling their own labels with the energy of a movement anxious to make itself fresh again.

The debate acquired a new urgency with Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O'Connor's announcement on July 1 that she is retiring from the court. If Bush, as expected, nominates a judge opposed to Roe. v. Wade, women's issues will move to the center of the national stage.

It's almost remarkable that "feminism" has survived as long as it has, stigmatized as it's been by a sneering right, and criticized by groups on the left for its early lack of interest in the concerns of poor and minority women. Now, as second-wave feminists look to the future and see a generation of women with a very different set of battles than their own, the question becomes: What do we do about "feminism"? Does it have anything to do with younger female activism anymore, or is it simply an Achilles' heel? Do we replace it, phase it out? Or do we embrace it with renewed vigor and a spruced-up, all-inclusive definition?

When asked to consider what other terms besides "feminist" might be useful descriptors of the movement she helps to lead, National Organization for Women president Kim Gandy laughed and said, "Nothing has really swept anyone off their feet, but 'egalitarian' is one that always comes up. There's 'humanist.' Sometimes 'womanist.'"

Gandy isn't suggesting that anyone rub the word "feminism" off their bumper stickers or refrigerator magnets. But she did acknowledge that she has had informal conversations -- both with people who work at NOW and with those she meets on the road -- about agitation from some within the movement who believe it's time to retire "feminism's" number.

"There's nothing inherently wrong with the word," said Gandy, invoking Dame Rebecca West's famous assertion, "I ... have never been able to find out precisely what feminism is; I only know that people call me a feminist whenever I express sentiments that differentiate me from a doormat or a prostitute."

But, she said, we cannot pretend that "feminism" has escaped the fate of "liberalism" before it. "This is what the right-wing has done to our language," she said. "'Liberal' is a proud term. But at a certain point, it became very difficult for people to call themselves liberal. If you asked them about issues they would say, 'I'm not liberal, I'm progressive.' Excuse me, you are a liberal! But the right made that a bad word. They've done the same thing with 'feminism.'"

Unsurprisingly, Gandy has had countless encounters with women and men who open up a conversation by saying, "I'm not a feminist," and then go on to espouse feminist ideals. "It's like, 'Do you have a belief in the political and social equality of women?' Yeah? Then you're a feminist," she said.

Language shifts have often transformed the struggle for women's equality. Gandy recalled the way that the term "suffragists" became the diminutive, mockingly feminine "suffragettes," as though those who devoted their lives to secure the vote for women were actually a backup group for Ray Charles. Then there was the time in 1993 when the National Abortion Rights Action League changed its name to "abortion"-lite NARAL Pro-Choice America. But language has strengthened the movement as well. Gandy said that when she started at NOW in 1973, "We didn't even have a word for sexual harassment. We knew how women were treated at work and on the street, but we didn't have language for it. Domestic violence? You didn't even whisper words for that in public. Now we have women's studies. Now we have a word for everything," said Gandy.

But she acknowledged, "I think that there's a new generation that's looking for a word or a term they can call their own. At some level they associate 'feminism' with their mothers. Not in a bad way, but just in a way that's not about them."

It might seem like a simple suggestion. But the hyper-sensitivity surrounding the "feminism" discussion makes it an ideological fire-starter. Weeks after my interview with Gandy, I called Feminist Majority leader Eleanor Smeal about this story. When I asked her to respond to some of the comments Gandy had made, I was apparently unclear, somehow leaving Smeal with the impression that I was reporting that Gandy wanted NOW to abandon the word "feminism." This was certainly not what I was reporting. But Smeal alerted Gandy to the possibility that my story might suggest that Gandy was rejecting the word just days before her reelection as NOW president. A very agitated Gandy called me to clarify that her comments were not reflective of any formal discussions within her organization. I assured her that I only planned to report what she had told me: that she had had discussions about the word with colleagues at NOW. She responded: "I hear people talk about it. But they don't talk about it that often. To say that 'there have been discussions within NOW' would convey a really inaccurate thing." Gandy emphasized that she can't imagine ever backing away from "feminism."

But some people didn't think the notion of ditching the word was such a crazy idea at all. "I think it's very smart," said Erica Jong, whose use of explicit language in "Fear of Flying' changed the nature of American women's fiction in 1973. "The problem hasn't gone away. Women are still second-class citizens; the problem of choice is still with us -- in fact it's gotten worse. So if we need to change the name to get people involved, we should."

But Jong was stumped as to what a replacement could be, and noted that "words always get degraded when associated with something progressive or something female. This is the way right-wingers capture the language, so we need to be smart." She noted the right wing's use of the term "pro-life" in the abortion debate. "If we had called ourselves pro-life -- as in we don't want women to die in illegal abortions -- we would have won on that one, but they got there first."

Jong thought that dusting off our lexicon was a natural generational progression. "It's all so cyclical," she said. "Mothers push forward, daughters pull back," she said. "We have been in a period of backlash and now we're ready to push forward again."

It's true that there is resistance to the feminist label from some young people. Kristin Rowe-Finkbeiner, a Seattle-area writer and author of "The F Word: Feminism in Jeopardy -- Women, Politics, and the Future," described a poll she'd done for her book. Noting that the 300 respondents were self-selected college-educated women between the ages of 18 and 34, Rowe-Finkbeiner said, "Sixty-eight percent of young women didn't want to be confined by labels, and the word 'feminism' chafed the worst."

But other national polls -- including a 1984 Wall Street Journal/Gallup poll, a 1986 Newsweek/Gallup poll, and a 2003 Ms. Magazine poll -- have shown that the younger the woman, the more willing she is to identify herself as a feminist. And, sure enough, many of the young women contacted for this piece were more vociferous in their defense of the word than their elders.

Melody Berger, a 25-year-old college student in Philadelphia, launched the new feminist magazine the F-Word in late May. She said she chose the name for her publication "because I was tired of tiptoeing around the word, of saying, 'Don't worry about us, we're not feminists, we're totally acceptable.'" Instead, Berger has proclaimed herself a full-blown "Howling Harpy."

Berger is not alone in her affection for the word. "If I hear one more person say, 'I'm not a feminist, I'm a humanist,' I'm going to kill them," said 26-year-old Jessica Valenti, founder of Feministing.com. "How do you possibly think you're going to talk about gender equality if there's no acknowledgment of gender?"

When I told Valenti that there was even casual discussion about the future of the word, she snorted, frustrated with what she perceives as generational tension between second-wave feminists and her activist peers -- many of whom don't align themselves with feminist organizations. "When they say they're interested in pulling in young women, I understand where the sentiment is coming from because they feel like young women don't like the word, but come on. How much are we willing to give up?"

Valenti acknowledged that many young women are "afraid of the word." "Part of me gets so angry at younger women who are nervous about feminism because they're afraid that boys won't like them," said Valenti. One of the reasons she started Feministing is because she wanted to meet young women and tell them, "I'm a feminist. And despite what you may think, feminism is pretty fucking cool." In addition, Valenti added, "Part of me wants to say, 'Yeah, someone's going to call you a lesbian. Someone's going to say you're a fat, ugly dyke.' Suck it up."

Valenti did have a couple of non-linguistic suggestions about how to bring older and younger activists together, starting with how the older generation treats its daughters. She described meetings for young feminists where the young women talk "while famous feminists are sitting there taking notes and watching you like you're some National Geographic animals." She said that the very suggestion that "feminism" could be disposable in any way makes her feel like saying, "Hey! This is your word! You started this and I took it on. I have been working hard for you. And now you're going to just give up on it?"

Erin Matson, the 25-year-old NOW chapter president in Minnesota and a member of the Young Feminist Task Force, said, "I wear the feminist label with pride and I love it. It's hard for me to imagine leaving it behind or discarding it." But Matson did recently write an article questioning the notion that feminism is a word that can describe a single, cohesive group, "all of us with pierced lips and hairy legs and the same concerns. That's simply not true," she said. Instead of the plaintive 10th-grade cry, "I'm not a feminist, but..." Matson's piece suggested that the new disclaimer is "I am a feminist, but..."

"Crystal Plati, 32-year-old executive director of Choice USA, said that at her organization, “We use [the word feminism] but we don't belabor it. We are also open to other words.”

She continued, "More than looking at just one word, for me it's about doing some listening for what kinds of language young women are using to define their empowerment for themselves." She also pointed out that it's not just young women who are alienated by the term. "No matter what choice we make about language," said Plati, "we need to be building toward an inclusive movement, in particular a movement that has women of color and young women in leadership. Changing the word is not enough. We need to address why it's alienating."

It's an assertion familiar to women in the movement, who for years have been reminded that second-wave feminism of the 1970s did not address the concerns of women of color and women from lower economic strata.

It's a concern that activist and author Rebecca Walker -- whose mother, Alice Walker, coined the term "womanist" as an inclusive alternative to "feminist" -- said she's been anxious about for a long time. In an e-mail, she referred me to an interview she gave to Satya magazine in January. In the interview, Walker said that in 1992, when she co-founded Third Wave, an organization for young women activists, she worried that "the word feminist had become too divisive and culturally loaded." Walker also told Satya, "It seemed clear to me that the term had more of a repellent effect than a magnetizing one within my generation, and I did not feel the need to prove my allegiance and gratitude to the women that came before me by holding on to something that had meant so very much to them, but did not mean that much to me."

In the interview, Walker continued, "The left is getting our collective ass kicked because of just this kind of romantic, naïve attachment to movement narratives and aesthetics of 20 and 30 years ago." She also pointed out that "many women of color do not feel an affinity with the term because, among other things, we know firsthand that people who call themselves feminists are not always our friends," she said. "They have not de facto done their work around race ... though [they] would become appalled if we suggested that some 'feminists' were also racist."

The racial wound remains fresh for many women who spend their lives thinking about and working on issues of female empowerment. When Berger launched her F-Word site in May, she said she was surprised that some of the anti-"feminist" mail she got was from other women activists. Berger explained, "The word 'feminist' alienated a lot of political allies I wanted to be tied to," including women of color "who told me that traditionally this word is off-putting because of the predominantly white, middle-class vibe it had." Others, she said, told her, "I hope you don't make the same kinds of mistakes your foremothers did."

The result, said Berger, is that a month after her launch, "the word 'feminism' is on the site, but it's not the tag line anymore. I've toned it down a little bit."

When I asked her what words could possibly replace the pesky descriptor of the movement, Berger was stumped. "I'm not such a fan of the word 'humanist,'" she said in an e-mail. "I think it's one of those 'well, duh ... who ISN'T pro-human??' kind of concepts." As for "womanist," Berger wrote, "I like that it may be more appealing to women of color ... However, I don't think feminism is just about 'women' anymore." It's these qualms, Berger said, that keep her "pretty attached to the f-word." But she conceded, "Maybe it isn't worth fighting to reclaim a word. There are much bigger things we need to be fighting for."

But what if we don't need to fight to reclaim it? What if we've already begun to make it new?

"Feminism is just what we determine it is," said Mandy Van Deven, 25, founder of Altar magazine, a political magazine for young women, and the director of Community Organizing for Girls for Gender Equity in Brooklyn, N.Y. "So if we wear makeup and call ourselves feminists then we are feminists. I see it as just a part of the evolution of political movements and the evolution of language and how people are going to identify themselves as individuals and in the scope of larger political context."

Van Deven said she thinks that there are a lot of young women out there who -- while they may not like the word or embrace the entire exclusionary history of the movement, "are really anxious to grab the word and claim it and say, 'No, I don't care, I am going to make this word work for me.'"

Rowe-Finkbeiner, author of the book "The F Word," said that Van Deven's attitude is typical of broader political and linguistic patterns. "In the history of social movements, many of the people who are most impacted by negative connotations of a word are the ones who take that word back," she said. Rowe-Finkbeiner pointed out that women have already done this with "bitch" -- as in popular "stitch and bitch" knitting circles and "bitch-n-swap" clothing swaps. It's a phenomenon similar to a gay re-appropriation of "queer," or African-American usage of "nigger."

Third Wave co-founder Amy Richards said she isn't too worried about the women's movement agreeing on one word. In her work on campuses, she said the number of projects she sees young women taking on -- from prison reform to AIDS funding in Africa to living-wage fights for university staff -- is enough to satisfy her that there is tremendous life in the movement, even if no one knows what to call it. "The thing that's different from 30 years ago is that young women are moving beyond organizing around reproductive issues and violence against women. It's not that those issues aren't relevant to them, but I think they're just tired of them."

Gandy said that membership in her organization is bigger than ever. "Eighty percent of people in the United States, based on what they think now about pay equity and domestic violence, would have been considered total feminists had they felt that way 30 years ago. And the women's rights movement is living in our daughters every single day. Whether or not they consider themselves feminists."

Besides, said Richards, "Whatever we'd change 'feminism' to would become a bad word too."


Don't forget the F-word

Erica Jong on how the hope she had for women in 1968 has been extinguished

Saturday April 12, 2008
The Guardian


It's an artifice of journalism to choose a given year and pretend that year "changed everything". We constantly hear in the United States that 9/11 "changed everything", yet - for most of humanity - life is still as nasty, brutish and short in 2008 as it was in 1008 or 2008 BC. If it is so for man, it is doubly so for woman - since women and children are the main victims of war - if we go by numbers. But can numbers measure pain? Probably not.

It is a good time for me to be thinking about feminism over the past 40 years, as this week I am in Rome with other writers, thinkers and artists (including Bernardo Bertolucci, Joschka Fischer and Slavoj Zizek) for a festival of philosophy to mark the anniversary of 1968. In 1968, there was a great feeling of hope that things might change, that women might escape from beatings and rape and malnutrition in the developing world, and that, in our supposedly civilised world, they might find law degrees, medical degrees, political advancement and economic parity with their brothers and fathers. Not to mention their husbands.

But it has not come to pass. Yes, women have law and medical degrees in great number, write books by the carload and are good at it (why should we be surprised, when our first great poet of love, Sappho, was a woman?), but the world is still not a level playing field. Women are still not safe on the streets or in their own homes. And they comprise, with children, most of the world's poor.

We have spilled oceans of ink, cut down forests of trees, blazed through the internet in light, and the world is still dominated by the sex-bearing appendages rather than clefts. Why? That is the subject for a future book. But I can say that the hope I felt in 1968 has evaporated. Last week, a woman commentator on a supposedly progressive network called Hillary Clinton and Geraldine Ferraro "whores". She was suspended, but she'll be back. Women columnists still make their fortunes by attacking other women, as in the age of Clare Boothe Luce. It is, in fact, a time-honoured way to get a book contract or a political appointment. Trashing one's own gender remains a path to advancement.

There was a moment - 1968 to 1975, let's say - when it seemed that everything would change for women. We were studied, promoted, advanced like a trendy minority. Then came the backlash. "Is feminism dead?" screamed the cover of Time magazine. We were declared dead before we were even half born. The backlash against feminism has lasted longer than the brief flaring of feminism itself.

This has been the course of the movement for women's equality. Born in the 18th century with other movements for equality, our movement has ebbed and flowed with changing generations. We were scarcely enunciated before we became "the F-word" - the word that can't be articulated lest we sound too much like our hated mothers.

In the US, there has been a real ebbing of reproductive rights, equality of pay and equality at law. And women have assisted in their own demise, demonstrating against abortion and "for life", though they don't seem to care so much for the children already born as for those unborn. There has also been a flood of privileged women with law degrees and prosperous husbands returning to housewifery - albeit a housewifery aided by nannies and caterers. I have nothing against that. But I am astounded by the flight back to the nursery. In 1968, anti-feminist scolds used to predict that the pill would stop women from having babies in the future; quite the opposite has happened. Our daughters are having three, four and five children - if they can afford them. Good for them. But here is what amazes: even the most dependent years of childhood take up only a fraction of women's lives, and the cost of early childhood education, preschools, crèches and such would come nowhere near the cost of war, yet there is no political will in the US to make life healthier for childbearing women and children. That is the ultimate cost of the backlash - and once again, it targets the most vulnerable among us.

Watching this pageant of mayhem and murder one can only conclude, as Jeanette Winterson appears to in her latest novel, The Stone Gods, that we are a uniquely self-destructive species, high on our own desire to destroy our planet, starve and maim the world's children. Power is a drug. It craves more and more of itself. Humanity, it turns out, is better represented by Robert Mugabe and George W Bush than by Gandhi or Mother Teresa. Perhaps women hating women is just a shoot off the poisonous vine of misanthropy. We ourselves are the evil empire. And if we elect fools and knaves to hasten our planetary demise, perhaps it is because these monsters represent our own desires for self-destruction.

1968 was a brief flare of hope for the human species. It was extinguished. The thugs with jackboots are back. Some of them have vaginas. Or, as Oprah would say, "vajayjays". Talk about the problem that has no name: we can't even name our own clefts.

Feminism, founded by Mary Wollstonecraft, advanced by Virginia Woolf, Eleanor Roosevelt, Gloria Steinem and Hillary Clinton, has become nameless again. Perhaps a new generation will rediscover it like the shard of an ancient cooking vessel. Perhaps someone will name it again. I'll be there.


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