Chapter Twelve

6pm: The Hour We Remember – Don’t Eat Your Sisters

At 6pm, I decide to have a break from work. I go on the internet, see how it’s going for all the women.

I’d say it’s a … ‘mixed grill’?

On the one hand, there are more non-wired bras available than ever before; there are four or five petitions about feminist causes that are picking up traction; there’s a funny and clever blog about ‘emotional labour’ that’s going viral; and someone’s found a clip of Chaka Khan playing drums in a golden ballgown, which is an absolute tonic for the soul. Plus, there’s a meme of an angry owl in a cardboard box, which is speaking to a lot of women I know, as its furious yellow owl-eye glares out of a tiny hole it’s ripped in the side. Je suis angry owl in a box, internet. Je suis.

On the other hand, when I look at my DMs, I can see that four of the first ten are from women in the public eye who are currently going through either being publicly shamed on social media, or dealing with the after-effects. One has been #cancelled over a job she took that many people think she shouldn’t have. The second is being criticised for ‘letting transwomen down’ by not speaking out enough about her experiences as a transwoman on a daily basis. A third woke up to find three furious blogs had been published, overnight, picking holes in a book she’s written that hasn’t even been published yet. And the fourth is being roundly trolled for her friendship with another woman who is currently in the centre of a separate Twitterstorm – my friend is being told she should announce, publicly, that she disowns her friend, and also apologise on her behalf.

All are incredibly distressed – they’re talking about how it’s affecting their sleep, and their mental health. Until you’ve been in the centre of one of these flurries, it’s hard to convey just how unexpectedly destabilising they are. Those who’ve never experienced it might find themselves saying ‘Dude, why are you so upset about finding out that lots of people hate you enough to talk about it publicly?’ – before realising they have, perhaps, just answered their own question. It’s the sense of being in trouble; of having done something so categorically wrong that people are now spending time they could otherwise have spent having a bath, or putting a wig on a dog, in shouting ‘NO! JUST NO! YOU’RE CANCELLED!’ at you, instead.

Imagine opening your laptop, or turning on your phone, and suddenly finding that what seems like the whole world – but is, in reality, probably only a few hundred people – are staring directly at you, whilst discussing with others how hateful you are, and actively believing that you have acted from the worst possible intentions. It’s a bit like the scene in Superman II where the Council of Krypton hold the trial of General Zod – and dozens of gigantic faces, including that of Marlon Brando, all boom ‘GUILTY!’, before condemning Zod and his gang to the Phantom Zone. Except, in this case, you’re not an intergalactic fascist who’s tried to stage a violent coup on Krypton, killing millions – but just a woman who has said or done something, usually quite minor within the scheme of wars and famines and death, that others disagree with.

And although we know that social media can be a brutal place, what’s notable about all these women in my DMs is that they aren’t getting abuse from anonymous, misogynist male trolls, threatening to kill or rape them, as we would expect someone talking about ‘abuse on the internet’ to be. No. I mean, they’re obviously getting these as well – every woman does. But the abuse women are particularly upset about is from other women. And women who are broadly aligned with their own sensibilities: progressive, liberal, left-leaning and feminist. For the abuse they’re getting is that they’re not being progressive and feminist enough.

When I wrote about female role models in How To Be A Woman, ten years ago, the problems faced by women in the public eye were very different. Then, I noted that the primary problems for our female role models – big and small – were 1) it was hard to gain prominence, back then, if you weren’t either a delightful, fragrant women in a beautiful silk blouse with flawless skin who was never photographed in a bad outfit, or a glamour model – this was the era of Katie Price being voted one of the most powerful women in Britain. And 2) once they became famous, so much of their narrative was congruent on either managing to hold down a successful relationship – lest they become like ‘Poor, tragic, single Jennifer Aniston’; or submit to endless questioning about when, and if, they were planning to have a baby.

As we can see, a whole heap of feminist water’s passed under the bridge since then. The good news is that we are in an unprecedently fertile era of producing many, and wildly varied, female role models compared to 2011: Days of Yore. This is a stelliferous age, boasting the previously unimaginable stars Greta Thunberg, Malala, AOC, Baroness Lady Hale, Simone Biles … I could go on. Saying each of those names is like a party in my mouth.

The bad news is that there is now a recognisable career-arc for so many feminist women who have gained a public platform. They come along – with a show, film, book or campaign that catches the imagination. Everyone is like, ‘Hurrah! A new lady hero! Let the memes and the bunting abound!’ There may be six months, or a year, of this time of celebration. It’s like some manner of Lady Christmas – for there is little more lovely than seeing someone from your team hitting a home run and creating a little moment of communal joy.

Then, at some point in all this happiness, something will happen that throws this all into reverse. The new lady hero will tweet something thoughtless; they’ll make an ill-advised comment in an interview; they’ll create a piece of art that is seen as ‘uninclusive’, or ‘problematic’, or perhaps something supercilious or ‘off’ that they said, off-the-cuff, drunk, in 2012, will be discovered, and blogged about.

Of course, fair enough to point out if someone’s done something wrong – a response along the lines of ‘Eh?’, or ‘Nah,’ or ‘This looks a bit off’, or ‘Maybe don’t do this again, you ass-hat!’ would not be out of place.

But, so often, that’s not how social media works. This incident will be re-tweeted and reposted – gathering a little more heat and anger each time – until, suddenly, in the space of a few hours, this single incident will be seen as this woman’s defining attribute; the moment we saw her true nature.

There’s no point in trying to suggest a bit of perspective – pointing out that there are very few single incidents that genuinely invalidate a woman’s whole life, or career; that reverse all the good she has done – for the storm will be at full force. It seems like everything she has done – maybe over decades – has now been undone, in a single moment.

In the coming weeks, she might be disinvited from events, or, worse, lose work. Any value in her current project risks being overturned by all the shouting. Disconcertingly, anyone who publicly springs to her defence – or even suggests there might be some manner of overreaction at work – will also be dragged into the controversy, and examined with the same rigour: giving the woman the appearance of being someone so shameful that even being seen to associate with her is in some way contaminating. Suddenly, this woman is someone you can’t trust – someone who’d tricked people into thinking she was a feminist, but has now revealed her true colours. There’s a sense that people were almost waiting to be disappointed, or betrayed, by someone they’d previously cheered on.

And all by other women.

Now, feminism’s ability to turn on other feminists has long been chronicled, and there are plenty of case studies on it you can terrify yourself with, if you want to spend a couple of the more unhappy hours of your life Googling them. And of course, it’s worth repeating that feminism doesn’t mean never criticising other women. If a woman has done something actively hateful, she deserves all the criticism coming to her. Feminism isn’t Buddhism. You don’t have to love every woman. You are high on the concept of equality – not Ecstasy. There are just as many awful women as men out there, and if we can’t have a fruity discussion about their wrongs, then obviously, that’s sexist, too.

But I’d like to, if I may – having witnessed this sequence of events happen over and over – bring a little perspective to the whole matter, and point out how, whenever we pile on a woman who hasn’t been feminist enough, or has been found to be imperfect, we don’t improve feminism, or strengthen it – but, instead, make it more difficult for all of us.

For, as always, when we make demands on women, it’s always best to check there’s no sexism afoot by asking, ‘What’s happening with the men? Are the famous men having to deal with this? Is this something we’re insisting men handle, too? Are men presumed to have trampled on, or belittled, other men if they do not make statements, or art, that includes every race, socio-economic bracket, sexual orientation or religion that other men identify with? Are men told that everything they make must be for everybody? Are men ever accused of letting other men down, and not uplifting their gender enough? Are men ever told they’ve betrayed half the world with something they’ve said, or done? Do men cancel other men about their views about men?’

We’re not telling famous men they have to speak up, on behalf of everyone, and being furiously disappointed with them when they don’t. Jimmy Carr isn’t expected to give thoughtful quotes about what causes men to become rapists. Ed Sheeran’s not being asked to speak at a march on the intersection between feminism and disability. The dude from Mrs Brown’s Boys isn’t being questioned on his views on transphobia – which is weird, given that he dresses up as a woman. Famous men are just allowed to get on with their paid jobs, their social media timelines are full of pictures of them goofing around backstage, or enjoying their holidays, and they’re not expected to suddenly appear on Newsnight talking about hijabs, Female Genital Mutilation, or how STEM subjects are dominated by men – then be torn apart on Twitter by other man if they get it wrong in some way.

These days, women with any kind of public profile have two jobs: the first is their career, and the second is Professional Being A Woman and Representing All Women. And if they slip up in this second, unpaid job – in which they are eager but also, unmistakably, amateur – the punishment on social media, and toll on their real job, can be brutal.

Of course, if this all, in the end, resulted in proper debates, and understanding – the strengthening of feminism, and the welcoming to the ranks more eager young, and old, feminists, perhaps it would all be worthwhile. Every struggle, sadly, has its casualties – the suffragettes had bombs – and a whole load of hurt feelings, a couple of little nervous breakdowns and a few stalled careers are but small-fry if the pay-off were true equality, for all women, across the world.

Sadly, however, it doesn’t have that effect.

Firstly, the internet is the worst place to have these debates. Twitter’s ability to allow calm, nuanced debate is virtually non-existent – huge subjects have to be crunched down to 280 characters, and what starts as a ‘conversation’ between two people can suddenly have hundreds of other onlookers taking part and chipping in. Both sides feel wronged, and wounded – and wronged, wounded people tend to heat their fear up into anger. More often than not, this ends up with two factions of scared people furiously shouting at each other (‘YOU GOT THIS WRONG!’ ‘WHY ARE YOU SHOUTING AT ME???’) – an occurrence I would say that, broadly speaking, makes up around half of social media on any given day.

And the problem with this – other than the sheer volume – is that everyone is responding to the emotions of the conversation, rather than what people are actually saying. What could have been a genuinely useful exchange ends up as loads of women shouting at each other – burning bridges that would have been useful for future coalitions, and campaigns.

Meanwhile, the patriarchy’s just sitting in the corner, smoking a cigar, with an erection, murmuring, ‘You keep fighting each other, ladies. I find it sexy. Would one of you – the thinner, younger one, perhaps – like to wear a leotard?’

And secondly – and most importantly – it’s all an anger directed at the wrong people. Someone accusing another woman of getting feminism ‘wrong’, or not doing ‘enough’, is usually saying this because the subject they are passionately interested in is underrepresented: if this famous feminist isn’t talking about it, then no one will – so applying pressure on her to do what you’d do, if you had her platform, is the only way you can, obliquely, get your voice heard.

However, although these ‘wrong’ women might be pressurised into, or taught to, talk about what you wish to talk about, they don’t have any actual power to change the structure of things. They can’t commission TV shows, or debates, or movies, or books. They can’t get more women elected. They can’t change the make-up of the industry, or politics, or business.

When you get angry, you need to get angry with the machinery. This is the most important fact about campaigning. You need to get angry with the people in power. The ones who chose who gets the money, and the platforms, and the jobs. It’s simple to compile a list of the most powerful people in the entertainment industry, say – the commissioning editors at TV companies; the heads of A&R at record companies; the heads of studios in Hollywood. The people in charge of shortlisting MPs. The bosses of the women you’re criticising.

Tweet about them. Blog about them. Cancel them. What you’re seeing is based on their decisions.

If you dislike something a woman is doing – if you disagree with her book, or research, or song, or opinion, or campaign – I, personally, believe that it’s pointless to attack it. Over many years, I’ve come to believe that expending your time and energy trying to destroy something someone else has created is a waste of time. What’s the best you can hope to achieve? If you’re fully successful, and end up reducing what she has said or done to rubble, you’re still in the position where there now needs something better to take its place. Why not simply forgo the destruction phase – and start with the ‘now we need something better’ part, instead? Be the alternative. Be the change you would wish to see. Allow people on the internet to be ‘wrong’ – and focus all your effort on doing the new, cool, improved thing, instead.

For starters, it’s more fun to be a creator than a destroyer, and secondly, it prevents what we see so often with women in the public eye: a rapid turn-over of hot, new, bright things, who aren’t allowed the kind of long-term, comfortable development that men in the public eye – who are so much less likely to have a massive public downfall, or backlash – enjoy. We’re all aware of that saying, ‘Men fail up.’ Here’s Michelle Obama on the phenomenon: ‘I wish that girls could fail as bad as men do and be OK,’ she said. ‘Because let me tell you, watching men fail up – it is frustrating. It’s frustrating to see a lot of men blow it and win. And we hold ourselves to these crazy, crazy standards.’

Let’s make sure that women aren’t part of the reason that women can’t fail up. Let’s let women make their mistakes – but still continue. A woman who has made mistakes but is still given the chance to carry on – to learn in public, to correct herself, and to still proceed, without having been psychologically battered, and cancelled, in the process – will have far, far more useful things to bring to society than the current informal system we have: that the majority of women who still have a public platform are the ones who just haven’t made a mistake yet.

And if you are not a creator – if you have no story to tell, or song to sing, or campaign to run – but are merely a disappointed and furious audience, then find the things others have created that you love, and pour all your energy into raising those up, instead.

Feminism’s current hypervigilance – always looking to point out imperfections in other women, then dragging them in public until they correct their mistakes – is a fundamental misunderstanding of Darwinian evolutionary theory. We’ve all been raised to believe, to a greater or lesser extent, in survival of the fittest. This is what animals are like, and we are animals still – so this is simply nature’s process: if a woman spots a flaw in another woman, and feels she would have been better placed to talk about a subject, then taking the flawed woman down is the correct thing. It’s a healthy marketplace of ideas, and if your idea is better than the ideas of Jan with her shitty blog, song or film, taking her down is the right thing to do. It will, eventually, lead to the betterment of our species.

However. This isn’t what Darwin argued. Recently, I read On the Origin of Species and was amazed to discover that when Darwin coined the term ‘survival of the fittest’, he didn’t mean ‘the fittest animal would triumph over the other, less-fit animals.’ No. He meant the animals with the greatest chance of survival were those who were fittest to survive in the climate, landscape, or environment they’re in.

The battle isn’t between each other, then – it’s with the world we live in. And when you know this, everything changes: for the climate we are unwittingly making for women, is one where we are hypercritical of each other, and every hero must fall, and every flaw must be exposed, and the bar is set approximately twenty feet higher for women than it is for their male peers, who get on with whatever their ideas are, never considering a ‘duty’ to speak for everyone, or address every issue.

We all specialise in something – usually the things we know most about. So long as your cultural and political diet is varied enough, you shouldn’t be relying on one artist, or source, to provide everything. Just – munch on all of humanity’s lavish buffet, dude.

Women are – as they become more powerful, take up platforms previously denied to them, tell stories that have never been told before, and campaign for things previously considered unimportant, or unchangeable – making an environment in which all women live. We are each other’s environment. We need to make one all women can survive in –and the one where the motto is ‘No one can do everything. Everyone can do something’ is the one where the most women will feel unafraid to step forward, and show us what beautiful thing she can do. Rather than – as is so often the case at the moment – always worry that the next thing she says, writes or Tweets might be the thing that sees her exiled, for months. For ever. That unleashes all the bots and trolls, and stops her – and all those fearfully watching her subsequent public shaming and trashing – from opening up her laptop, logging in, and saying the words that are at the beginning of everything good: ‘I just thought of something …’