Months after my trek to Washington, the Women’s March movement remains defiant. Post-march, Washington HQ, determined to capitalize on the march’s infectious momentum, immediately launched its follow-up campaign, 10 Actions/100 Days, kicking off a new project every ten days. These mini-movements included everything from postcard writing to the hashtag-worthy A Day Without Women, which encouraged women to take the day off from both paid and unpaid work. The 100 Days campaign stood in solidarity with Syrian women. It supported immigration and preached unity. Quite frankly, it did some awesome stuff, and in April 2017, Time magazine put the co-organizers of the Women’s March on Washington on its 100 Most Influential People list. “This is the rebirth of the women’s movement,” Time declared. “These women are the suffragists of our time. And our movement isn’t going away—it’s just the beginning.”
The need for the women’s movement isn’t going away, either. April was a strange month. President Donald Trump signed legislation that allows states to deny federal family-planning funds to Planned Parenthood (as well as to other abortion providers), but in the semi-good news department that month, Bill O’Reilly was booted from Fox News following a storm cloud of sexual harassment allegations. Why only a tentative thumbs-up to O’Reilly’s ouster? While it’s encouraging to see conservative bulwarks condemn shitty treatment of women, I’m less thrilled that it took so damn long. I can hear the echoes of anti-feminist critics now: But can’t women just be happy they ruined him, Shrill Feminist Lauren? Sure, we can be happy he finally, finally, finally (times infinity) faced some consequences for his alleged actions. Y’know, after a successful career of fame and fortune and all that—none of which he’s really losing. The problem with such increased attention to feminist issues is that it can make it difficult to parse real political change from PR-motivated blips.
O’Reilly has been in the spotlight before for his gross behavior. The allegations against him date back decades and include settlements with five women. It seems likely that the withdrawal of fifty advertisers from the show had more to do with his departure than a newfound allegiance to feminist values. In response to all of this, O’Reilly trumpeted the ol’ it’s-not-me-it’s-them line. “[It’s] tremendously disheartening that we part ways due to completely unfounded claims,” he said. “But that is the unfortunate reality many of us in the public eye must live with today.”
Skip forward a few months, and we can see the same attitude on display with Harvey Weinstein. When media first broke the story of allegations of sexual harassment and assault in October 2017, the Hollywood bigwig released a statement, quoting Jay-Z, that said he was trying to do better and that he was also building a women’s scholarship foundation to be named after his mom. Lisa Bloom, his original (and now former) lawyer, who famously built her career on helping women, called him simply “an old dinosaur learning new ways.” And yet the story could not be stopped; this time women would not be quiet. On October 15, Alyssa Milano tweeted a suggestion from a friend: “If all the women who have been sexually harassed or assaulted wrote ‘Me too’ as a status, we might give people a sense of the magnitude of the problem.” In twenty-four hours, the hashtag was tweeted over half a million times. In the following week, more than fifty women in the industry came forward to share their Weinstein stories. Then another thirty-eight women came forward, this time against director James Toback. As Amber Tamblyn said in the New York Times of the women bringing their stories forward: “Now that we have collectively spoken, we can never go back.”
Yet, post-Weinstein both media and anti-rape activists had to rush to counter the rising victim-blaming narrative—the same one we always hear whenever survivors come forward, particularly in our new anti-feminist climate. That narrative, we know, is the one that attempts to draw a correlation between time and truth. Questions of why it took so long for women to speak up often seek to undermine the power of survivors sharing their stories and rising up together; it’s a narrative that dismisses the consequences of speaking up even as it tries to enforce them. Myriad outlets, from Bustle and Entertainment Weekly to the Guardian and NPR, ran stories with headlines like “Why it took so long for accusations against Harvey Weinstein to come out” and “Why did no one speak out about Harvey Weinstein?” Despite the headlines’ tone, the articles often sought to explain to their readers that such questions didn’t have easy answers. But the fact that these articles are still appearing so early in such news cycles exposes a deeply anti-feminist symptom of a larger problem. We still rush to judge survivors; we still want to believe this isn’t part of our culture. What a reminder that public outrage does not mean instant eradication of firmly held cultural, patriarchal footholds. In the months following the march, I ping-ponged between wanting two contradictory things: for us to be buoyed by little wins and for us, and others, not to mistake these wins as finishing-line markers. Feminists can, and did, protest O’Reilly and Weinstein, but what we can’t do is stop. We cannot afford to be lulled into complacency again, to ever again let such abuse ever slip by unremarked.
Just writing that makes me want to take a nap.
It’s an uncomfortable truth that the work of the Women’s March movement, and all the feminist actions that rose with it, are nowhere near absolute victory. Our newest iteration will undoubtedly face further intense backlash, vicious mockery, and significant setbacks from without and within. For veterans of the feminist movement—those doing the hard work long before the headline-grabbing march—this will all likely feel like déjà vu, old wisdom. Still, it’s hard to deny this new feminist movement feels like a necessary revitalization, a fresh beginning. It’s not simply an opportunity to bring more girls and women into the movement or to get media (and, let’s face it, marketing) attention, but also a chance to define what we want our feminism of the future to be. I still can’t decide whether it’s a wonderful or weird thing that I saw the same book highlighting the march in indie bookstores, drugstores, and ultra-trendy Urban Outfitters, but it’s probably both. In this increased mainstreaming of feminism, though, we have to remember it isn’t just a numbers game. Let’s make more women invested in feminism, but let’s also make it a feminism that’s intersectional, diverse, anti-oppressive, and open to self-reflection.
When I first started researching this book, I heard “You go for it!” a lot. But I also heard two common criticisms—or, more accurately, expressions of disbelief. One, many people told me that feminism no longer mattered. And two, they told me that anti-feminism wasn’t a thing, and if it was, it was an impotent movement. Sometimes, often, these were the same people talking, but not always. Either way, the underlying message is the same: Women have made it. We don’t need feminism because we already have equality. Anti-feminism won’t rise for the same reason. Men’s rights activists and other anti-feminists, they reassured me, will never make it out of their online dens, their mothers’ basements. Well, there’s liberal pomposity and denialism for you (more on that in a minute). Perhaps what seemed inconceivable to them then still seems inconceivable now. But that doesn’t change reality, as surreal and nightmarish as it now is. Women’s rights—human rights—are under siege, and the anti-feminists have war cannons. The most powerful of them wears a splendid toupee and lives in a white house (well, sometimes).
As I finished writing F-Bomb, Donald Trump was in the early days of his presidency. Yet even I didn’t think those impending-apocalypse jokes would bear out quite so quickly. Between Syria, North Korea, and building a wall (OMG, I hope we’re not all living in Mad Max when this book comes out), it can be hard to keep the fight for women’s rights going. Cue another criticism I heard as I was working on this: Why should anyone care about [insert X feminist issue] when we have [insert Y world issue]? It’s a valid point. Manspreading on the subway is not anywhere on par with Syrian refugee policies. But it’s also an argument that overlooks the unbreakable links between X and Y. Eradicating physical and sexual violence, guaranteeing sexual freedom and rights, and improving access to girls’ and women’s education, health (including reproductive health), and the workforce are irrevocably tied to ending discrimination and racial and religious violence, building pro-immigration policies, boosting the economy, raising populations out of poverty and—not to put too fine a point on it—ending tyranny. That is, if we can give rise to a truly intersectional feminism.
As we do this, let’s also be wary of putting too much blame on Trump. He didn’t magically poof anti-feminism into existence; he’s powerful and popular because the anti-feminist movement is powerful and popular. For reasons I’ve explored in F-Bomb, he’s found fans because his policies resonate—even, and in some cases especially, with women. Let’s not pretend, also, that it’s some side effect of America, contained like a contagion within its red states. It always surprised me when I interviewed people, particularly those in America, who gushed over Canada and our prime minister, Justin Trudeau, as if he’d inoculated us against anti-feminism, racism, xenophobia, and other generally crappy things. It’s like everyone forgot we were the nation that put Stephen Harper and his super Conservative friends in charge for nearly a decade. Harper, a lifelong politician, has the verve of a cardboard box, but just because he didn’t say ridiculous, scary shit on Twitter, it doesn’t mean his political stance was, at its root, wildly different from Trump’s. Under him, Canada was just quieter (and more pragmatic) about its intentions. And even that might be about to change.
The Conservative Party picked a new leader in May 2017 and, in doing so, a new idea of what conservative means in Canada. Emboldened by Trump’s win in the south, our own reality TV star, Kevin O’Leary, of Dragon’s Den and, later, Shark Tank fame, threw his hat in the ring. Known on Shark Tank as the “shark with the sharpest teeth,” O’Leary is famous in both the US and Canada, and reminds me of a smoother, smarter, balder Trump. He’s a populist, and for similar anti-government reasons. “Now, with the election of Donald Trump to our south, Canada’s largest trading partner is headed by a businessman with an aggressive strategy that could hurt the Canadian economy,” O’Leary wrote on his campaign’s “Why I’m Running” page, which boasts about his business acumen and, also, the fact that he’s not a “career politician”: “Since the start of this leadership race I have looked for a candidate with these qualities, but it has become clear that I am the only one that can defeat Trudeau.” He eventually dropped out, but I’m not sure that matters; he resonated, and that’s sobering enough.
Besides, other candidates offered scarier, more socially conservative platforms (and voting records), including opposition to immigration, LGBTQ rights, and access to abortion. Kellie Leitch built her campaign on a platform of “Canadian values” (whatever that means) and has met with a Canadian group that wants to ban Muslims; one of her Conservative Party opponents has likened her to a “karaoke Donald Trump.” Maxime Bernier is A-OK with guns. Andrew Scheer is “pro-life” but also promised not to reopen the abortion debate (hmm). Of course, none of them was running on an explicit, thoroughly anti-feminist platform. But neither did Donald Trump, really. Our bar shouldn’t be whether or not someone is actively, openly trying to restrict women’s rights.
In the end, Scheer won the leadership. In the months since, he’s given interviews to Rebel Media, denounced Rebel Media (after the far-right organization faced criticism for its coverage of the August 2017 race riots in Charlottesville, Virginia), and then, a few months later, hired a campaign manager named Hamish Marshall, who is a corporate director at the Rebel and, indeed, helped build the media company into what it is today: the bulwark of the alt-right and a hotbed of anti-feminist feminist views. Scheer has asserted the hiring didn’t portend a hard right shift for his party, and nor did he truly have connections to the Rebel, but it’s unsurprising that his critics are skeptical. Such promises can seem hollow these days, and it’s likely Canada will soon learn it isn’t immune to America’s current political upheaval. As the alt-right continues to rise, we’ll all have to confront that just as women’s rights are linked to human rights, so are human rights to women’s rights. Obvious, right? Ushering in a new conservatism—one that focuses on not fiscal conservatism but a Trump-esque mishmash of social conservatism, blustery nationalism, and a certain economic isolationism—comes with a matching voter mindset. Sort of like his-and-hers ideological tracksuits for the right wing.
As we wade further into the opposing but jointly skyrocketing feminist and anti-feminist movements, I hope we can learn to listen more to the other side. I don’t exactly mean that we should have a tea party with Hitler, Mussolini, and, oh heck, even Trump. Crumpets, tea, and facism! But I do believe we have to let go of our liberal superiority—this belief that clearly reprehensible views aren’t powerful enough to gain mass traction. We’ve seen they obviously are. It means acknowledging that people we don’t think have any right to be unhappy—the white middle class, mainly—are miserable, hurting. What’s worse, they believe the left’s policies will drown them. Unless we understand why, it will be impossible counteract and confront the ripple effect of damage that pain has caused. We can’t fight what we so arrogantly ignore. I’m so not arguing that we stop trying to tear down the status quo or that we render feminism polite and palatable, like a ladyfinger cookie. But let’s revaluate why, and how, we’re distancing people (and women especially) from feminism, not just call them insufferable airheads.
I believe it is possible, still, to fight with compassion and humility. Not just possible, actually, but essential. At its heart, feminism is not about making your life better and more equitable; it’s about making everyone’s lives better. Those of us with platforms must continue to make room on them for those without, and then we must help them build their own, higher platforms. We must embrace criticism and change. We must live our politic. We must make some fucking room. I don’t think any of this will be easy. With everything going on around us, it will be incredibly difficult to live with love and courage as guiding principles. It will be hard to remember that we can be angry without being hateful. Even as I write this, even as I believe it with my own angry and compassionate feminist heart, I feel like I’m auditioning for a staff gig at Hallmark—or maybe shopping around a new Lifetime special. Look, the feminist movement is messy right now, but maybe that’s the point. Maybe it has to be a hot mess first so it can figure shit out.
In the months since the Women’s March on Washington, I’ve seen feminist-branded, well, everything, flood the market. Pins. T-Shirts. Hoodies. Pencils. Pencil cases. Notebooks. Tote bags. Planters. Jewellery. Temporary tattoos. Wine glasses. Hats. Perfume. Lipstick. Blankets. Phone cases. Mugs. And so much more. I’m not sure it’s a bad thing, though I can’t bring myself to buy any of it. It isn’t that I don’t want to, literally, wear my feminism on my sleeve, but I do worry about turning feminism into a product. I’m all for women entrepreneurs making a buck, and even more for those who are donating sales proceeds to organizations in need (though I also recognize corporations are on this particularly saucy gravy train as well). Yet, if the legacy of the Women’s March is T-shirts, then we’ve missed a huge opportunity and made it all the worse by boosting the impression we’re doing something when we aren’t at all, not really. It is incredibly easy to buy something, but it so much more important (and difficult and frustrating and exhausting) to live the feminist politic.
But there is one recent trend with which I can get on board. It will not surprise anti-feminists who make memes on the internet to learn that I have a lot of tattoos (but it might surprise my grandmother—sorry, Granny!). In March 2017, women began inking “Nevertheless, she persisted,” in reference to US senator Mitch McConnell’s smack down of Massachusetts Democrat Elizabeth Warren. He ordered her to, essentially, shut up as she tried to read a letter from Martin Luther King’s widow during the confirmation hearing for Trump’s attorney general pick. In explaining his decision, McConnell said, “She was warned. She was given an explanation. Nevertheless, she persisted.” It’s since become another rallying cry for feminists. She persisted. We will persist. My friends and I have given serious thought to joining the hundreds of other women who’ve inked it on their skin. As I pondered it, one of my guy pals (yes, a feminist who likes men! We’re not mythical unicorns!) remarked that it was strange so many feminists were etching a conservative man’s dismissal of a woman on their bodies. Sure, yes. But there’s also something powerful about reclaiming statements like these—in reclaiming feminism and, in doing so, reclaiming ourselves, our lives, and all that we can be. It makes us mighty in a world that still wants us to be small.
Well, fuck that.