I myself 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.
Rebecca West
So how difficult is it to decide that you are a feminist?
Writing as a member of what is now called ‘the second wave’ of feminists who were active in the 1960s and 1970s, my experience of becoming a feminist was complicated, disturbing, uplifting and certainly neither straightforward nor easy to describe.
Over 40 years ago, in 1971, a close friend gave me a copy of The Female Eunuch saying, ‘You have got to read this.’ After some hesitation, worried that I may be disturbed by Germaine Greer1 but not realising how substantially she would challenge my view of the world, I did.
My immediate reaction was, ‘I can’t cope with this. My relationship with my husband will have to change. I’m not sure I want that.’
At the time I was at home, having left teaching when my first child was born, looking after my two daughters aged three and four. My husband was a successful Head Teacher and the much admired secretary of the largest NUT branch in the country. To be honest I enjoyed basking in his reflected glory. I was no shy retiring flower and had always been politically active and had a large circle of friends. The last thing I needed was to be dragged out of my comfortable life as a fairly contented mother and housewife.
But there was no escape. I kept going back to Germaine Greer’s words: ‘The fear of freedom is strong in us.’ It was this fear that I was initially gripped by. Independence should have been an attractive proposition but if I were to be truly independent would I still recognise myself? It all seemed far too risky.
Then I found Betty Friedan’s2 The Feminist Mystique. Published in 1963, seven years before The Female Eunuch, this book spoke to me in a way I could not ignore. Writing in a less confrontational style than Germaine Greer, Betty Friedan explores the lives of suburban American housewives in the 1950s and early 1960s. They suffer from ‘the problem that has no name’ which each woman struggles with alone. Fitting in with the American dream they complement their successful husbands who are out at work all day. ‘The problem,’ she writes, ‘was with the mystique of waxed floors and perfectly applied lipstick. They are afraid to ask, even of themselves, the silent question, “Is this all?”’ Simone de Beauvoir’s3 revolutionary The Second Sex had been published in France in 1949 and began to be read on this side of the Channel in the 1950s. It is difficult to imagine the emotions evoked in readers of Simone de Beauvoir in the kind of climate where in 1955 the readers of Woman’s Own voted for their favourite radio voice. The winner was a family favourite. ‘Jean Metcalfe’s voice depicts all the qualities every woman ought to have. Sincerity, humour, understanding, reliability and tact.’ According to Family Britain 1951–75 by David Kynaston,4 women were ‘dutiful companions, wives, uncomplaining homemakers’.
The world of Betty Friedan’s housewives was still very much alive and well in Britain in the 1960s and I understood and sympathised with the situation of the women she wrote about: isolated, bored and unfulfilled in their gleaming, pristine homes, feeling unable to speak out about their frustration. I also understood that I could no longer justify sitting on the side-lines, bleating and doing nothing.
I joined the nascent Women’s Liberation Movement, taking part in demonstrations and marches calling for 24-hour nurseries, equal pay and making women from every class visible. In my mind’s eye I remember that some of us were wearing pretty, flowing Laura Ashley styles and others were looking more severe in dungarees. But whatever our outward appearance we were all united in our central aim: equality.
I attended women’s consciousness-raising groups which often made me feel uncomfortable. Sometimes that discomfort could be attributed to the number of women I met who seemed to have disappointing relationships with the men they lived with. I did not share their disaffection and anger with their husbands and partners. However there was a deeper disquiet. As a teenager in the 1950s I had been brought up to regard most girls and women as competitors for the approval and affection of men. Gradually I found that the strong philosophical and emotional bonds that brought us together intensified. I began to see women as real friends, sisters on whom I could rely. The confidence and feelings of solidarity which came from working together in a just cause helped me to overcome my initial hesitation. A trust developed which overwhelmed me at first and then sustained me in my new-found beliefs and changing identity.
It is indeed probable that my own and other women’s belated but heady recognition of solidarity came from our as yet unspoken understanding that we lived in a male-dominated society.
I began – tentatively at first and then defiantly and proudly – to call myself a feminist. Having to defend both what I saw as my new identity and the concept of feminism itself against patronisingly dismissive reactions was daunting. Then, as women working together appeared to gain strength and perhaps become threatening, I faced more scornful comments but this only confirmed me in my commitment. I have never turned back.
That is my story but how do other women feel?
To gauge the reaction to the concept of feminism among the women we interviewed, we asked each of them whether they would regard themselves as feminists.
A majority of the women we interviewed said that they did regard themselves as feminists. But their responses varied from those for whom feminism has become an intrinsic part of their philosophical and moral outlook to those for whom there are still strong misgivings about its meaning and a few who adamantly refuse any such label.
Yes, of course I’m a feminist. Other people opened doors for me and I want to do the same. And give women a platform. (Maggie Baxter)
Of course I am a feminist. We all want to do something to make people’s lives better, I suppose. (Dr Wendy Savage)
I suppose so. I think everyone else regards me as a feminist. (Baroness Jenny Tonge)
And for women like Frances O’Grady, the first female General Secretary of the TUC, being a feminist is taken for granted. The question simply does not arise. She and her deputy Kay Carberry consider it to be part of their job. Both of them mentor young women. Part-time workers (usually women) are accorded proper respect by the TUC and after having a career break for children women are usually welcomed back at the same level they left.
However, others expressed doubts about feminism:
I do regard myself as a feminist but I don’t like the kind of feminism described by the slogan ‘A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle’ – though perhaps we need some strident pioneers when attempting to change society. Feminism has to mean equality as a matter of course, not sound bites. (Maura McGowan QC)
I don’t know. It’s so often perceived negatively to do with aggression and burning bras. If it’s about showing respect and love for one another, then I am a feminist. (Revd Rose Hudson Wilkin)
I suppose I am, in that I want to encourage women to aim high and to help other women achieve their potential, but I am uncomfortable with the sort of bra burning strident feminism of the past where men are always seen as oppressors. (Sue Street)
I suppose I am but I am not in favour of that Germaine Greer, let it all hang out, sort of stuff. (Corinne Swain)
Barbara Young, Chief Executive of Diabetes UK is pleased that a number of senior people in the organisation she leads are women. “Of course I want other women to have the opportunities I had,” but she firmly denies being a feminist. Similarly Sally Martin, a Vice President of Shell Global tells us, “I do not consider myself to be a feminist. I do work hard to help women navigate their careers … for me this is about encouragement and support rather than rights.”
Other women replied in much the same vein.
Does it matter that Barbara Young and Sally Martin, two women wielding considerable power, are reluctant to describe themselves as feminists although they gladly use their influence to promote other women? Possibly not, but as former banker, now consultant, Mary Chadwick points out “Of course I’m a feminist: unless you have a theory of life, you see everything as personal.” The solidarity that comes from being part of a group of like-minded people gives confidence and helps to sustain one through set-backs. It is also likely that adopting the feminist label encourages us to be more proactive in changing the status quo instead of tinkering around the edges. Feminism as a guiding ‘theory of life’ may help us to be braver in challenging structures in a society that appear immutable.
Even from this small sample of successful women mainly aged over 50, it is clear that people are still unsure and uneasy with the concept of feminism. The word still provokes feelings of discomfort and these are fed by a number of notable myths. In order to understand why there are still so few women in positions of power in Britain we need to be clear what feminism means, unravel those myths and misinterpretations and reclaim its potential as a force for good.
Let us start with the ubiquitous myth of ‘bra burning’. The myth that feminists of the 1960s and 1970s burned their bras, wore dungarees and had hairy armpits still persists. In fact there is no evidence that any woman actually burnt her bra. The truth is more mundane. Feminists protesting about the 1968 Miss America contest in Atlantic City on the grounds that it degraded all women, were pictured throwing not just bras but girdles, curlers, tweezers and high heels into a ‘freedom trashcan’. These articles were seen as inhibiting their freedom to appear natural and un-constricted – unlike the women taking part in the beauty contest. As it happens these annual displays of human flesh did eventually cease, so the protesters could legitimately claim success. So why is it that what has been stored in the collective memory is some image of wild women ‘burning’ their bras? A possible explanation might be that the deliberately misleading propaganda based on these myths allowed some women to avoid engagement with a more accurate reading of feminism.
Crudely, it is easier to understand the reaction of some men for whom fantasies about women in bras may be appealing: difficult to imagine curlers or tweezers producing the same effect! For some men and indeed some women to dismiss feminism and feminists with disparaging references to ‘bra burners’ is, to a certain extent, understandable, though it is as infuriating as it is simplistic.
Some women were concerned that being a feminist implies disliking men: Sue Street thought that impression was extremely unhelpful and feminists needed to correct it. Other women voiced similar objections. Asked about being a feminist, Clarissa Williams said, “No, I’ve never given myself that label. I’ve never felt that men and women should see each other as enemies.” Lesley Wilkin was worried that, “A lot of feminist rhetoric seems to be women blaming men for too many of their problems.”
While it is true that in the 1970s a very small minority of feminists felt that all men were oppressors, the majority certainly did not. In order to make sure that women’s voices were heard, women’s sections were established in some political parties, trade unions and other institutions. Women were given a platform where they learned to be confident in airing their views without interruption or intimidation – a novel experience for many. Gaining from this experiment with female support, speaking assertively in mixed sex groups gradually became less daunting for them and enabled them to take a more active role on an equal footing with their male colleagues. They were not hostile to men but they did want to appear more visible in mixed company.
As Bea Campbell puts it, “We believe in the best of ourselves. We believe in the best of men.”
Brenda Hale took us back to the heart of the matter. “I have no problem at all about calling myself a feminist. A feminist is someone who believes women are equal to men in terms of potential and entitlement. I dislike the idea that women do not want to be called feminists – it has nothing to do with hating men …”
This succinct interpretation of feminism means that women and men should have equal chances in life and that we can all work together to achieve this aim. At its simplest level, this is what feminism should be about.
For those of us who were active in the second wave, the Women’s Liberation Movement facilitated the urge to unite behind different concerns.
The Women’s Liberation Movement of the late 1960s and 1970s served as an umbrella for those of us who were seeking some kind of solidarity with others who were having new, and what Glenys Kinnock called, “allowable thoughts”. Many of us who had read and been moved, disturbed and excited by Simone de Beauvoir’s5 The Second Sex, had also fallen gratefully upon Doris Lessing’s6 The Golden Notebook, which presented a different way of interpreting a woman’s life story. The press described the more active among us as ‘women’s libbers’: a casual rather than insulting way to include any woman who was fighting for equality on various fronts; the title seemed more affectionate than offensive.
But gradually, as some rights were gained and a general consensus about the need for greater equality and fairness was accepted, in principle at least, the Women’s Liberation Movement seemed to fade away. Lesley Stern,7 writing about how women are portrayed on the screen in Feminism and Cinema Exchanges as early as 1980, asks: ‘To think of oneself as a feminist has been to assume links with The Women’s Liberation Movement but … where is it now?’
The security of an overarching cover was disappearing as we introduced our new found certainties into our family and social life, the workplace and political parties. However, during the massive social and economic upheaval led by Margaret Thatcher in the 1980s, the power of the second wave of feminism began to dissipate. Some of us thought that the momentum started in the 1970s would continue to introduce improvements in the lives of women. But Britain’s first woman Prime Minister promoted few women and seemed very happy to be surrounded by men. She was contemptuous of feminism and feminists. Her own son described her with approval as ‘the toughest man in the Government’. Many feminists were involved in forming support groups for miners in the 1984 strike and many protested outside Greenham Common against the siting of cruise missiles. They took an active part in politics against what we saw as major and deliberate infringements of rights in society as a whole. It is not surprising that feminism without a political context went out of fashion. It certainly seemed to lose its power to attract younger women.
One of the most recent publications to reflect on feminism is Fifty Shades of Feminism edited by Lisa Appignanesi, Rachel Holmes and Susie Orbach.8 Compiled in response to the unnervingly vast sales of Fifty Shades of Grey to a mainly female readership, the three Editors asked 50 well-known women from different walks of life to contribute short pieces on feminism. ‘Fifty years after the publication of Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique have we as women really exchanged supposed purity and maternity to become vacuous desiring machines inspired only by variations of sex, shopping and masochism?’, they ask in their introduction.
The answer is a resounding ‘no’ but just as with the comments from the women we interviewed, quoted above, there are many variations in perceptions of feminism in their book. For some the question is redundant. The premise is that feminism is a given in their lives and the main problem is using that belief to improve their own lives and those of others.
For Linda Grant, “Feminism has been the defining political principle of my life.” Martha Spurrier says, “I find feminism to be a source of strength, empathy and principle.”
“Feminism gave me a light to shine into dark corners of the law,” writes Helena Kennedy.
It gives Gillian Slovo “a determination to change the world”. Susie Orbach is clear that, “Feminism saved my life and it gave me life,” but she admits that, “inner conflicts thwarted us.” And Josie Rourke makes a plea for the right to be uncertain. For her, “The private sphere is where I most need feminism’s ideas.”
It is worth making a guess at what the ‘uncertainty’ and ‘inner conflicts’ mean.
If we take feminism to mean equality between men and women, their potential and aspirations recognised and fulfilled as far as possible: clearly beneficial and worthwhile, what is getting in the way?
To return to the women we spoke to – remember they are all successful in their fields – about two-thirds seemed initially disconcerted when asked whether they would regard themselves as feminists. Many of them asked us, ‘What do you mean by feminist?’ In discussion, all settled for equality between the sexes as being an acceptable aim. No quarrel with that. However, as we have seen, several referred to the militant behaviour of the small (but vital) minority who, for them, appear to represent feminism in the 1970s. For some, the idea that to be a feminist involved campaigning is the main deterrent. Many others had a lingering feeling that being a feminist implies action of some sort. This worried many of them. Rosa Luxembourg’s uncompromising statement: “Those who do not move, do not notice their chains” would seem irrelevant to them. They are aware of, and disapprove of, some injustices they see but taking action is a stage too far. They know that things are gradually improving: certain assumptions about fairness have become embedded in our society; we watch our language more carefully – at least in public; job advertisements are not allowed to imply that they are more suitable for male or female candidates; aggressive or crude sexism is frowned upon by women and men.
In a recent radio interview, journalist Safraz Manzur described himself as a ‘lazy feminist’. He had always agreed in principle with equality between men and women but it did not touch him deeply enough for him to act upon his beliefs until the recent birth of his baby daughter. (We met or heard of several men for whom becoming fathers of girls acted as a wake-up call about gender issues.)
Probably many of us could admit to ‘laziness’ in taking our beliefs to the stage of actively promoting them – particularly if we suspect that we may meet resistance.
Sharon Haywood, a freelance Canadian feminist writer, says, “I fervently defended my beliefs in equality by tagging on the disclaimer, ‘Yes, but I’m not a feminist,’ lest I be ostracised from mainstream society.” Living in Argentina – with a female President who insists that she is ‘feminine’ not a ‘feminist’, where women occupy almost 40 per cent of the seats in the Senate but where the gender disparity in wages is one of the highest in the world – forced Haywood to reconsider. “Since I’ve owned feminism, my life has changed for the better … It has improved the quality of my personal relationships with others and myself.”
Becoming part of a group taking collective action was less daunting than she feared. She now feels that, as a result of standing up for her beliefs, she can not only help to enhance the life chances of others but also claim a new positive image for herself.
There is a slow burning excitement about taking the plunge and committing oneself to new ways of thinking which helps to sustain one through moments of self-doubt. No one is expected to change fundamentally by relinquishing a well-rehearsed and cherished view of themselves. Femininity need not clash with feminism. As Helena Kennedy writes, “My departure from feminist orthodoxy was that I maintained a visceral pleasure in dressing up. I loved lipstick and mascara, high heels and push up bras, nail polish and scent.”
Her credentials as a celebrated feminist Human Rights Lawyer, speaking out against injustice, are too well known and established for anyone to criticise her style of dress. Indeed it might be claimed that her very femininity adds strength to her cause.
An incident from my own experience from the time when I was working as a gender adviser for teachers in the 1980s and 1990s tells us something about what a feminist might be expected to look like. Always conscious of deflecting prejudice, however petty, I never wore trousers when working in schools.
I was running an in-service day on gender issues in Lyme Regis’s comprehensive school. It was being held in the school library and I was not helped by the enthusiastic young deputy head who introduced me to the staff by telling them that what I had to say ‘will be good for you’. Two male teachers sat, without removing their coats, behind a large book stack from where I could not be seen. ‘They don’t want to be contaminated,’ laughed one of their colleagues.
Remaining invisible but making audible derogatory noises most of the morning, whilst refusing to join in any conversations, they went to see the Head Teacher in some distress at lunchtime to complain about me: ‘That woman may not look like one, but she’s a feminist you know!’
There is no doubt that Helena Kennedy and other feminists are driven by what Lorine Pruette calls the spirit of “flaming audacity”. Strongly-held convictions add a necessary impetus which helps them to unite with others who share their beliefs. Together they can brush aside ignorant taunts and jibes from those who are discomfited by their confident assertions.
As we have demonstrated throughout this book, without concentrated effort by women, little of significance is likely to change. There is no point in waiting for someone to offer improvements. Equality should not be seen as a ‘gift’ but as a right or entitlement.
In Why Feminism?, Lynne Segal9 warns, ‘… It is unlikely that we can ever repackage feminism in a neat or orderly fashion.’ Perhaps this implied untidiness, hinting at chaos, is alienating. Most of us like to feel in control of events that impinge on our lives and feminism takes us out of a safe and ordered existence. It takes courage to be genuinely receptive to new ideas. It takes even more courage to allow those new ideas to become so firmly and deeply fixed in our minds that our self-concept begins to alter. A new identity emerges with which we are not familiar and the temptation is to squash it. When we finally understand that this new self is not easily suppressed and we even start to feel happy with all it may entail in terms of changes in demeanour and behaviour, the change gradually seems inevitable and complete.
I remember during the time that I had begun to define myself as a feminist, an old and respected friend aggressively attacked the whole idea of feminists and feminism as, ‘Yet another ‘ism’ we’ll have to endure. What’s wrong with these women?’ My heart sank. I realised that I had to defend my new principles with conviction and in a way that would help my friend to understand how important the concept of feminism was to me. I cannot recall my exact words but I can still remember her confused expression and, more importantly, the strength that I gained from stating my principles. Hearing my own voice defend my beliefs deepened my commitment to feminism. It is a necessary, if daunting, part of the process experienced by anyone taking on a new idea which changes one’s identity.
Publicly owning feminist beliefs becomes a source of pride. Being ready and willing to challenge the forces holding us back should mean that we are now ready to make the next step and take on power.
Like feminism, the notion of power makes some women feel nervous. Dictionary definitions include vigour, strength, control, influence and authority: strong words – not for the fainthearted. As we have said in this book, many men feel that they are entitled to power. Women, if they aspire to power, feel that it is something they have to work hard to achieve. They feel that they have to prove to themselves and to others that they are worthy of it. However, the connotations of influence over others, the ability to make decisions possibly affecting large numbers of people, can feel overwhelming. So it is not so much that women think they are incapable of wielding power but they are anxious about what that power might say about them. We are used to hearing about the abuse of power and women are often the victims of that abuse. They do not want to find themselves being accused of the callous treatment they resent and attempt to combat.
There is also the danger as Gloria Steinem points out that, “Women might end up simply with an equal share of the action in the competitive, dehumanizing, exploitative system that men have created.”
My contention is that this is where taking on the mantle of feminism comes into its own. Previous generations of women, some who might nowadays be called feminists and some who have simply striven to correct a particular injustice, have fought to voice their concerns and to be heard. They have pulled aside an unseen veil that hitherto had rendered them invisible. Blatant inequality has been identified and had entered the public consciousness in a way that can no longer be denied.
As campaigning broadcaster Joan Bakewell writes in Fifty Shades of Feminism, ‘I have battled male entitlement, resentment, laziness and indifference.’ She, and others like her, has used her power to pave the way for younger feminists.
Jay Morton, a 28-year-old architect says, “I regard myself as a feminist. I don’t see why people have problems with that word. I expect to be treated in the same way as a man. I don’t want to be looked at as a female architect. I’m just a person. I really don’t see this is an issue.” Acknowledging that her views are not universally accepted, she adds that most of her friends, male and female, are feminists. “So I exist most of the time in an equality bubble.”
Many of the women we interviewed, however, told us that although they themselves are feminists, their daughters seem to reject the feminist label.
One Senior Executive says with some regret, “I’ve always thought of myself as a feminist, though I’m not sure I interpret the word as some do: for example, my daughter tells me her generation regards it as a term of abuse.”
Deborah Hargreaves, Director of The High Pay Centre, echoes her concern. “I certainly would consider myself to be a feminist. I am amazed that all women do not feel that way! I find it very odd that we make up half of the population and yet are so under-represented in public life,” she says. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure my daughters agree with me.”
Sharon Shoesmith, former Director of Children’s Services in Haringey, told us that she is a feminist but her daughters are not and quoted her eldest daughter, “If women really want power they could go out and get it. Women debilitate themselves.”
Of course we are quoting from a small sample of women, but it should be a matter of concern that daughters are disengaging so vehemently from the idea of feminism with which their own mothers identify and which in all probability contributed to their success.
Other women told us that that many young women feel the same way:
“Yes I’m obviously a feminist,” says Joan Ruddock MP, “but for a while younger women refused to use the label feeling that the battles had been won. However there is a new group of younger women MPs who blog furiously as feminists.”
“Yes of course I am a feminist, but for many young women it’s a dead battle,” said Patricia Hollis. “That is until they have children. And then the traditional female roles kick in. Where both in a couple work, I don’t see many men taking responsibility for organising family childcare. Maybe, when younger women again learn the meaning of the Personal is Political … we would all be gainers.”
“I get depressed when I hear young women say they have nothing further to say,” adds Ivana Bartoletti. And referring to my experience, she says, “I envy your generation of women. You had the privilege of making your own beliefs.” She is concerned that very many younger women really believe that the battles are behind them and that their opportunities are limitless. What causes this anxiety attached to the word ‘feminist’ that is felt by many younger women in particular? Many assume that the battle for equality has been won by a previous generation of women and that the need for action is now over. And anyway it is a bit embarrassing to be associated with the ‘bra burning’ militants of the past. The danger is that if young women really believe that equal rights are theirs for the asking, when they do not succeed they will tend to blame their failure on themselves. Tackling the problems of inequality as individuals leaves them unsupported. In the opinion of the daughter of one prominent woman we spoke to, all women have to do is to try harder: “Surely if women really want to get ahead they just have to go for it.” One might argue that her optimism is to be applauded and encouraged but, sadly, such lonely courage does not always end in positive results. Indeed the evidence from our research is that it rarely succeeds.
This discontent with the arguments and methods of the feminism of the second wave seems to persist but in the past few years a new women’s movement has been growing. Very much based on action and not always connected to an underlying theory, younger women are successfully campaigning against page 3, against the display of ‘lads’ mags, against violence towards women, and in making sure that we will have a woman other than the queen appearing on our currency.
Fortunately there is also a vociferous minority among younger women who are not afraid to use what they call the ‘f’ word to promote a variety of causes. They conduct their campaigns with enviable imagination. Kat Banyard10 is a co-founder of UK Feminista. Interviewed by journalist Kira Cochrane she says that, ‘A generation of girls like me had grown up thinking that discomfort about sexism was their problem.’ The main theme of her book,11 The Equality Illusion: The Truth about Women Today, is the objectification of women’s bodies, how this hampers us and takes up inordinate time. ‘The rituals women go through are necessary because their sense of self hinges on the gaze of others’. She goes on to consider the labyrinthine paths women have to travel in order to reach any kind of parity with men in the workplace. Rejecting the notion of the glass ceiling as only being applicable to a fortunate few who get close to the top, she describes what she calls ‘the sticky floor’ of women’s work as the five Cs: cleaning, caring, clerical work, cashiering and catering.
Recent books by younger feminists tackle many of the problems previously exposed and publicised by writers like Germaine Greer, Gloria Steinem and Lynne Segal but their approach is different and they tend to focus on single issues.
The main thrust, for instance, of Kat Banyard’s book and subsequently of her campaigning organisation, UK Feminista, is to raise greater awareness of violence against women. Interestingly, she advocates the importance of including men in ‘the feminist struggle’, saying that, ‘Gender equality forces them into a mould of dominance, aggression and control.’ Even though many men may deny feeling ‘forced’ into such a mould, Laura Bates12 in her book based on her blog, Everyday Sexism, reminds us ‘not to underestimate the degree to which our young men are affected by the cumulative force of normalized misogyny’. So Kat Banyard is right to try to involve them in campaigning rather than seeing them implacably as the enemy.
Eighteen months after the article by Kira Cochran, Kat Banyard13 herself wrote in The Observer to introduce Anna van Heeswijk, CEO of ‘Object’, the feminist organisation spearheading the fight against what she calls the ‘pornification’ of society. Working with The Fawcett Society, they successfully lobbied for a bill to strengthen the laws that control the licensing of lap dancing clubs.
Kat Banyard and Anna van Heeswijk are serious women conducting serious campaigns which will be beneficial to us all – women and men. However Object’s position on pornography was dismissed as ‘nuts’ by Caitlin Moran,14 whose best-selling book How to be a Woman has the aim, she says, of giving feminism a more acceptably human face. Moran’s book is easy to read and sometimes very funny but regrettably it never really addresses the issues that more thoughtful feminists strive to publicise and rectify.
Be Awesome: Modern Life for Modern Ladies by Hadley Freeman15 is a witty and provocative book written for and about younger women. She tackles matters that are of genuine concern to younger women and her advice is more serious than the chapter titles would lead us to believe: viz ‘You don’t need Winona Ryder to tell you how to live your life,’ ‘You’re never too old for Topshop,’ ‘Ten signs you are having a none-awesome date’.
Hadley Freeman’s chapter on eating disorders, ‘Talking about eating disorders without using a single photo of Kate Moss,’ is powerfully written and she bravely refers to her own experience of anorexia to illustrate her argument and emphasise her points. Freeman is honest about her illness but, as she says, ‘Having worked so hard to recover, I’d rather not spend the rest of my life being seen through the prism of my past, permanently labelled “ex-anorexic”.’ She can be caustic, as she occasionally is in her book, but she appeals to women (and, I suspect, to some men too) as an engaging writer, showing attentive consideration when answering their questions in her weekly column in The Guardian. She uses humour very effectively in her book, but her intention is not to amuse at a superficial level: she is suggesting ways in which young women may conduct themselves safely in a society which is full of traps for the unwary.
In What Should We Tell Our Daughters? The Pleasures and Pains of Growing Up Female, Melissa Benn16 – describing herself as a ‘middle-aged feminist’ – considers the pitfalls facing her own two daughters (and all our daughters) in a potentially hostile twenty-first century. She warns of the ‘myth of perfection’ and of ‘love in a cold climate’. Melissa Benn speaks with the benefit of years of campaigning against discrimination and a sensitive understanding of young women’s needs. She is reassuring about their chances of success as long as they possess ‘backbone, resilience, optimism and endurance’. Life experience teaches one how to gain and retain these qualities and also the best times to put them into practice. Again, this is serious (but not solemn) stuff, written in a style that is accessible, inviting the reader to ponder and react.
When Laura Bates17 started her blog Everyday Sexism, describing some of her own experiences, she expected that perhaps about 50 people would reply. In fact she was deluged with thousands of responses from women who had suffered in similar fashion and in many cases much worse. The significance of this is important: women realised that what they had regarded as their own individual experiences were replicated by many, many others. Reading about personal insults and violations suffered by other women reassured them that they were no longer alone. The book she has published based on these responses makes difficult reading. In the section entitled ‘Politics’ she cites a girl saying, ‘I was told, “If you want to be in politics, you could be an MP’s secretary”.’ Another says, ‘Went on a trip to the Houses of Parliament as part of our Government and Political Studies A-Level … The guide said, “There is a bookshop over there, there are recipe books for the girls”.’ These examples are irritating but the responses she quotes under the headings ‘Women in public spaces’ and later ‘Women under threat’ are frankly alarming in their openly derogatory sexual comments made by men to girls as young as nine.
Here are three examples sent to Laura Bates’s blog:
When I was nine a man asked ‘the girl with the dick sucking lips’ to come here.
And, ‘I was raped by my father as a child. When I first told this to someone I felt comfortable with, my current boyfriend, he made a rape joke and said, “Well, you shouldn’t have led him on … “’
‘Sexting and sexual pressure is common,’ writes one school girl. ‘In my school when my friend was thirteen pictures of her were circulated … she was called a slut very often by boys in our class. If they were having an argument or banter, they’d just bring up the name of the guy she lost her virginity to. You could just see the colour drain from her face when they mentioned his name … A boyfriend is something to shame you after, but for him it’s like a victory.’
Later in her book, Laura Bates writes: ‘I’d like them (people who attempt to laugh off these and other similar incidents) to know about a girl of just fourteen … who killed herself because of worries about the size and shape of her beautiful teenage body.’
It is interesting that since the abuses committed by Jimmy Savile have come to light, newspapers are full of stories about men in their sixties and seventies being brought to trial for historical sexual offences against girls and women. It seems to me that it is no coincidence that campaigns led by Laura Bates, Kat Banyard and Anna van Heeswijk are gaining ground at the same time as attempts are being made to bring perpetrators of sexual misconduct to justice. The men being tried have used their power to abuse and intimidate trusting, vulnerable women and girls. Max Clifford’s open arrogance throughout his trial exemplifies the opinion of these men that they are omnipotent and invulnerable. His conviction and imprisonment should act as a warning to other predators that the world is beginning to change.
The new younger feminists write in vigorous and lively fashion, often using humour to great effect. Perhaps this is intended to be a response to another canard: that as feminists we take ourselves too seriously and lack a sense of humour. There is undoubtedly a stereotype of women not being funny. The cause of women’s equality is, of course, a serious matter and no apology should be made for our endeavours in seeking it. Our loud protests may make us appear grim at times, but to counteract the accusation that feminists never laugh at ourselves, I vividly remember attending a conference on a bitterly cold and snowy day in London in 1983. A large gathering of women had fought their way through atrocious conditions to arrive at London University. All of us were wearing several layers of protective clothing – none of us looked at all conventionally ‘feminine’.
We had come to hear Cora Kaplan, a well-known American feminist with strong views which she was never afraid to state. There was a feeling of optimistic idealism and even of militancy in the air. Cora Kaplan arrived clad in snow boots and wrapped in a huge overcoat.
We all waited, expecting to be instantly galvanised by her reputed rhetorical skills.
She looked slowly round the room and then said, ‘Put your hands up if you watched Thornbirds last night?’ After an explosion of sheepish laughter a forest of hands went up: then, ‘Now keep your hands up if you enjoyed it!’ Most hands stayed in the air. She looked at us and smiled and then began to dissect the extremely popular Australian soap that was appearing weekly on our television screens, and the reasons for its appeal.
Her point was that our emotions can be pulled in various conflicting directions. Romantic fiction has a powerful emotional sway: to slightly misquote Noel Coward, ‘Strange how potent cheap fiction is.’ Kaplan’s unexpected opening question released the tension in the air, made us relax and brought us together. We were still engaging with serious issues but in a comfortable environment where ‘weaknesses’ were both admitted and permitted.
Nearly a century ago the Italian political theorist, Antonio Gramsci,18 called such conflicting emotions – ‘contradictory consciousness’. In general he meant that, however much we may subscribe intellectually to a social theory, we are still unable to resist the seduction of other potent, though contradictory, forces. Women’s exposure to stories, films and plays from a young age, portraying ultimately compliant women seeking ‘happy endings’, made a television series like Thornbirds hard to resist. The appeal of the current popular series Downton Abbey relies on viewers denying uncomfortable facts about the class system in the first part of the twentieth century in order to soak up the romantic story lines.
The social conventions implicit in this and other similar books, films and plays should be recognised, even while we allow ourselves the illicit pleasure of enjoying them. We can have the best of both worlds if we manage to detach ourselves from their subliminal message and persevere in our endeavours on the road to equality. Easier said than done, as Kaplan19 illustrates in Sea Changes: Culture and Feminism:
… I discovered in puberty … (that) … narrative pleasure lost its innocence; adult fictions with their gripping scenarios of seduction and betrayal held me captive. I read with heart pounding and hands straying, reducing the respectable and the popular to a basic set of scenarios. Peyton Place, Jane Eyre, Bleak House, Nana: in my teens they were all the same to me, part of my sexual and emotional initiation, constructing my femininity …
The answer of course is to enjoy romantic fiction in all its forms with as little guilt as possible, try to analyse what produces conflicting emotions, smile indulgently at ourselves and move on.
Humour is a useful tool but should be used to supplement argument not to replace it. Rhiannon Lucy Coslett and Holly Baxter, whom Melissa Benn describes as ‘the witty and irreverent’ founders of Vagenda (magazine), tell us that, “Feminism has a PR problem that needs sorting … young women are telling us that ‘feminism is a dirty word … too complex and alienating … ‘.”
Frankly, this sounds too much like a plea not to be disturbed. Wit and irreverence are both necessary and we cannot afford – nor do we wish – to be po-faced. But wit and irreverence are pernicious if they are used to disparage any kind of earnest debate. A recent newspaper article by Rhiannon Lucy Coslett20 entitled Feminism has to make space for the half arsed and written in a faux, world weary manner trivialises the meaning of feminism, which she says needs ‘rebranding’. She pleads for the necessity in her life of twerking and dieting.
No wonder Melissa Benn21 says, ‘Something about contemporary feminism nags at me. I like … light-heartedness but fear perhaps that some of the new politics is too accommodating of those who find feminism “angry” or “difficult”.’
Melissa Benn goes on to quote Ellie Mae O’Hagan: ‘If being sexy and funny are the two cornerstones of a new feminist movement, we may as well all pack up and go home now. At its core, feminism should be angry. It should be angry because women are still being taken for a ride.’
Certainly there is still plenty to be angry about, as we have demonstrated in this book.
How can feminists and feminism reignite and reinvigorate what Airlie Hoschild22 memorably termed, ‘the stalled revolution’?
Whether greater equality can come about through rapid action or more slowly through incremental change was examined in our last two chapters. We note that many people think that it is politically wise to move slowly and carefully. Some women agree but others would retort that they have waited long enough to seize what they are entitled to. There can be no intellectually valid argument for yet more protracted delay. However we also have to accept that effective transformations in social attitudes do not come about by accident and they inevitably invite resistance. Winning hearts and minds is necessary for lasting success. Deborah Mattinson, the highly regarded political and social commentator, has stressed on many occasions that ‘if you want to carry people along with you, you must start from their position not from yours’.
Sensible advice. Let us explore the implications of her words for feminism by returning to more of the women that we interviewed.
We have already seen that some women who spoke to us do not want to be associated with the unflattering image, which unfortunately still persists, of humourless, aggressive, man-hating feminists. Michaela Bergman, Director at the European Bank for Reconstruction, regrets what she called, “A wrong turning for feminism in the 1970s when in some parts of the world feminism and femininity seemed to part company.”
Many women still seem to think that ‘the battle’ has been won, although exactly which battle is not often specified. Elisabeth Kelan of Cranfield University, feels that women are a bit tired of discussing gender discrimination again and again. She calls this phenomenon “gender fatigue”.23 The reaction seems to be, ‘Oh no, not more about the problems we all know about.’
The past few years have seen a scattering of newspaper and magazine articles commenting on a renewed interest in feminism. The tone is generally optimistic. It is surprising how often Simone de Beauvoir’s24 The Second Sex, published over 60 years ago, is still a reference point for commentators: Joanna Biggs25 in her article Feminism is on a high – but it needs a strong intellectual voice is no exception. She applauds ‘feminism’s newfound ebullience’ which has resulted in legislation to enable couples to share parental leave, renewed calls for equal pay and the courage of the members of Pussy Riot, unrepentant and outspoken in their campaign against undemocratic processes in Russia. However, she nevertheless reminds us of the intellectual theories underlying Beauvoir’s seminal text which seem to be missing in today’s rhetoric. In Joanna Biggs’s view, this has led to many campaigns which she says are ‘legion but uncoordinated, related but not connected’. She asks whether aiming at what she describes as ‘scattershot goals’ are more likely to dissipate energy rather than to focus it and goes on to suggest that ‘maybe it is time for another national women’s liberation movement conference to coordinate efforts and define aims’.
Part of the problem for current campaigners is the existence of modern technology which facilitates easy and quick responses. An excellent way to bring issues to the attention of a potentially vast audience, eliciting immediate support for numerous valid causes, ‘clicking’ agreement requires little thought and no discussion. Tweeting has its uses as long as it enhances rather than replaces discussion. Real solidarity entails face to face contact, engaging verbally with others, being able to argue, reassess and perhaps to redefine one’s position.
So is the pessimistic prediction of feminism’s imminent demise ‘greatly exaggerated’ or is there a continuation, even a renaissance, of the ideals that impelled our forebears to act? How does the concept of feminism impinge on women gaining power: the main subject and purpose of this book?
According to Bob Connell26 in Gender and Power, feminists in the 1960s and 1970s posed theoretical questions under headings such as ‘sexual politics,’ ‘oppression’ and ‘patriarchy’. These were useful concepts in helping to frame the arguments but seem rather stale today. We probably need to express ourselves in language that speaks to younger women and men, although as he says, ‘Sexist stereotypes are still with us, showing impressive toughness and resilience.’ There has been genuine progress on many fronts but Connell’s words still ring true nearly 30 years after they were written. He is also right when he says, ‘Equality is an absolute concept. It allows of no qualifications however well intentioned.’ So ‘getting there’ is not enough. Whatever the difficulties, we should surely now be at the stage where no prevarication is tolerated.
It might be fruitful at this stage to return to Kat Banyard’s invitation to men to join the feminist struggle.
A generation ago Janet Radcliffe Richards27 caused some upset in her hard hitting The Sceptical Feminist challenging men to, ‘Do what is good for women in spite of themselves … Feminists will believe men’s good intentions when they make offers not rules.’ Her book was an open call to men to change their ways but men and women at the time reacted against what was seen as its aggressive tone. Now her comments, though strongly expressed, probably seem blindingly obvious.
In Men and Masculinity, Joseph Pleck28 and Jack Sawyer reminded us that the ‘traditional male pursuit of power, prestige and profit will not fulfil their (men’s) lives’. Ruth Hartley in the same book writes that, ‘Manliness seems to carry with it a chronic burden of stress … What is expected of boys and men is adventure, production, noise, dirt, decision making, courage, strength and a “good business head”’. In a later chapter Gloria Steinem takes this a stage further, saying, ‘An obsession with winning turned into an even greater obsession with not losing’ – an even more depressing description of the pressures men find themselves under at work and elsewhere.
One woman we interviewed made a similar point when she alerted us to an aspect of feminism that has caused her great concern. She regards herself as a feminist but “dislikes the way that earlier feminists regarded work as all important and everything else as secondary”. The message to feminists is that, in striving for equality with men, they must not trap women in the same obsessions that damage men. The aim must be a better society for both women and men. The message to men is that they need liberation too.
Ultimately there has to be a shift in the relationships between men and women from dominance and subservience to interdependence. However obvious and desirable this would seem, there remain underlying tensions and contradictions which makes the problems difficult to resolve.
Sheila Rowbotham,29 an active campaigner for women’s rights, whose writing in the 1970s and 1980s was extremely influential in persuading women of the relevance of feminism, says in The Trouble with Patriarchy, ‘Some aspects of male–female relationships are evidently not oppressive, but include varying degrees of mutual aid.’ A salutary reminder that intelligent cooperation benefits women and men.
This is not the place to be agonising about the travails of men but we cannot afford to ignore or dismiss how men feel and behave because it has a major impact on the lives of women.
In planning a future course for feminism, some kind of synthesis of the approaches – confrontational in the case of Radcliffe Richards and more emolliently expressed by Pleck and Sawyer – needs to be achieved. And as MP Chi Onwura argued, one of the great weaknesses of the campaign for gender equality is that it has never managed to achieve the high level of importance that it deserves in current political debate. Speaking as a black feminist politician she says, “I’ve found out that civil rights gets more sympathetic treatment in the media than gender.”
If feminism is to become the force for effective reform that we contemplate in Chapter 11, it needs to win greater support. Several themes have emerged during the course of this chapter which explain the reticence in pursuing equality and some of the reasons why women hesitate to embrace feminism.
How should feminists respond?
First of all, it is time for us to consign pejorative comments about feminism to the bin. They have always been used by people of both sexes hostile to progress in order to obstruct and confuse. Let us expose them for the lies that they are and move on. We should not allow infantile jibes to colour our perceptions of the case for greater justice.
Many battles have been won and we can celebrate the gains we have made, but we need to concentrate on the obstacles yet to be faced and overcome. It is much easier to achieve this focus by working together. Not only is this more effective but it is more enjoyable too. Those who are opposed to feminist ideals are far more likely to bend under the pressure of visible concerted effort by a determined and unified force. Collective effort is more likely to succeed than individual heroism.
Gramsci’s idea of ‘contradictory consciousness’ may hold us back, but being aware of and understanding our own reactions to people, ideas and events can help us control our responses. We owe it to one another and to future generations of men and women to be constantly vigilant and to be unafraid of raising necessary questions when we see or hear about discrimination, however subtle. There is no need for aggressive tactics: indeed one of the positive outcomes of women getting together to challenge sexism socially and at work has been acknowledging and practising an assertive rather than aggressive approach. Instead of provoking a defensive response, this strategy almost always results in some form of engagement with the problems and their perpetrators.
Ultimately we have to recognise the structures in our society which are barriers to progress. For some of us this is a question of politics. To quote Bob Connell30 again, ‘in the liberal capitalist countries … there is enough tolerance and enough intermittent support. It will sustain a feminist … presence at the level of pressure group politics.’ In other words we can make gains which, however small, are gratifying and should be encouraged but the bigger picture is complex and daunting and we cannot avoid confronting the fact that powerful vested interests will continue to control the debate unless they are recognised and challenged on a political level.
For me, feminism has always formed part of a wider political commitment. There is a connection in my mind between the fight for equality in terms of working conditions and pay and the fight for equal recognition of men and women. It would seem to me that they are naturally entwined.
In Chapter 11 we propose a programme of positive reforms which require a shift in emotional, intellectual and political attitudes.
In a society where to be a feminist and to believe deeply in equality is the normal stance for women to take, rather than seen as an eccentric position adopted by a few fanatics, the ten reforms we set out in Chapter 11 would seem modest, reasonable and irresistible.
Perhaps a quiet revolution is required in our thinking which embraces the concept of feminism as part of a radical change in our political direction. The logic seems clear. All we need is the courage to act on our beliefs. As Bea Campbell puts it: ‘That’s the work of women’s liberation: reasonable and revolutionary.’
I was 18 when I first read Virginia Woolf’s31 A Room of One’s Own, first published in 1928 long before even The Second Sex. In that year Woolf was asked to give a lecture on fiction to women at Girton College, Cambridge University. She arrived early and was walking in the grounds of one of the men’s colleges. This is her famous description of that ‘transgression’:
It was thus that I found myself walking with extreme rapidity across a grass plot. Instantly a man’s figure rose to intercept me. Nor did I at first understand that the gesticulations of a curious looking object in a cut-away coat and evening shirt were aimed at me. His face expressed horror and indignation. Instinct rather than reason came to my help; he was a Beadle; I was a woman. This was the turf; there was the path. Only the Fellows and Scholars are allowed here; the gravel is the place for me.
My reaction to that first reading was one of amusement rather than outrage. Feminism and feminists have taught me not only to be less tolerant of such ludicrous discrimination but to campaign against it.
This is not a revolution that will happen naturally or by accident. It will have to be fought for. Many men may offer support but the campaign will have to be led and sustained by women. As Harriet Harman said to us, “Women must still control the fight for equality. Women have to be the engine of their own liberation.” Laurine Pruette suggests that we become ‘flaming audacious’ and so we must. We should spread the message and win the intellectual argument. But in matters of gender that is never enough. If we are to do justice to ourselves and to future generations we need to muster the power to match the strength of our cause.