Call me feminist, but not the Burkett kind

My Facebook stream is full of feminism, queer activism, commentary on racism and funny stories about what my friends are eating/watching/doing with their children.  Just like everyone else's, I expect.  Yesterday Elinor Burkett's exploration of what makes a woman, written in response to Caitlyn Jenner saying her brain is female, got a few mentions - from people both for and against her description of trans activism and feminism on a collision course.  Her essential (pun intended) argument is this - that when trans people call on essential ideas of gender, they set back women's liberation fights of decades. 

Jaclyn Friedman has responded, and covered many points I'd otherwise be making.

I’m not privy to the Trans agenda, but I’m willing to bet that we also hear the “gendered brain” argument for reasons both legal and cultural, because like it or not (and I don’t), it’s a lot easier to demand freedom from discrimination and violence with the “I can’t help it” argument than it is with the “it’s none of your damn business” argument. The “born this way” talking point has been extremely effective for the modern gay and lesbian establishment.

This argument is problematic in terms of sexuality too.  Arguing "we can't help it" is not a recipe for honouring the complexity of gender or sexuality.  Of course there are genetic, biological things going on - complex things, like the fact there are a hell of a lot more intersex people out there than we recognize.  And of course the social world, our environment, determines how we express and understand our gender.  Do we really not get this by now?  I'm with Jaclyn Friedman - go read Julie Serano if you're strugging.

I'd have more respect for Elinor Burkett's critique if she'd engaged with Ms Serano's ideas about gender than dismantled those of Ms Jenner.  Ms Jenner is not representative of the vast majority of trans women; does not come from a place of having supported or worked with or researched transfeminine lives.  She has access to mainstream media - which includes being exploited and sexualised in ways other women should be quite familiar with - because she is rich and famous.  That's all.

And the response of trans and gender diverse peeps to that sexualisation was immediate, on point and fabulous.  Fake Vanity Fair covers with all kinds of people asking the world to call them by their name.  About as feminist as you can get.

I'm also struggling with Elinor Burkett's essentialising of female experience, to well, her own.  She says about trans women:

They haven’t suffered through business meetings with men talking to their breasts or woken up after sex terrified they’d forgotten to take their birth control pills the day before. They haven’t had to cope with the onset of their periods in the middle of a crowded subway, the humiliation of discovering that their male work partners’ checks were far larger than theirs, or the fear of being too weak to ward off rapists.

Of course trans women with sizeable breasts will have suffered through sexist men ogling them.  Why wouldn't they?  Not worrying about birth control pills?  You might be any kind of woman who cannot get pregnant, or any kind of woman who doesn't have the kind of sex that can get you pregnant.  You know who don't deal with periods on subways?  Women who don't get periods (anymore), or women who never ride the subway because they are rich.  I'm not sure where Ms Burkett gets the idea that trans women are raking in the dosh - and suspect, as with other women, that this will be heavily raced - but our research here in Aotearoa tells a very different story, of cissexism and transmisogny leaving trans peeps in poverty.

The last point is particularly tricky, and perhaps most illustrates Ms Burkett's problematic approach.  Feminists need to expand our understandings of gendered violence to include the increasingly obvious fact that trans people, particularly trans women, are experiencing horrific rates of sexual and domestic violence.  If feminists working in these areas cannot do that, our analysis is flawed.  It's not really so hard - because it's still about gender and power - we just need to stop the simplistic essentialising that Ms Burkett's piece, despite her protestations, is guilty of repeating. 

There are issues for feminism to consider in terms of trans activists smashing gender and sex binaries.  While it is important not to lose sight of this as a liberatory process for all genders, for those of us who do not sit at the top of the gender tree we are facing complex, entrenched sites of sexist and cissexist power over in every area of our lives.  Liberal "men are oppressed too" approaches are not the answer here, much as men need to find ways to dismantle the impacts of toxic masculinity on themselves as well as on others around them.

But if our feminism is about dismantling power over, then the questions being posed should be positive, should help us have a more nuanced and complex understanding of gender and power.  Just as paying attention, in Ms Burkett's quote above, to her essentialising about fertility status, age, sexuality, race and class helps us have a more nuanced and complex understanding of gender and power.  Ms Burkett's version of who counts as a woman is little more than old school transmisogyny, with the smattering of race, class and sexuality privilege that feminism has always wrestled with.

Guest Post: Fightback Magazine - Voices from Women and Gender Minorities

Fightback is a socialist-feminist organisation which publishes a website and themed bi-monthly magazines. This August, we are bringing together an issue that is edited, designed and written entirely by women and gender minorities on the kaupapa of anti capitalism / decolonisation / socialism / anti-racism / feminism.

Despite the centrality of women, girls and gender minorities to the social movements of today, we are still a smaller minority of writers in the socialist press. Fightback acknowledges that there are many reasons for this, some of them including the fact that these groups are weighed down by more unpaid work, that our work may not be as valued and that there's a higher chance we will come up against barriers for our involvement in political spaces.

Instead of just offering a space for writers to be read and heard, we are also raising money to support contributors in a tangible way – by paying a rate of $NZ100 per page of content. We understand that writing and creating takes time, and how much of our political work is unpaid labour. By offering this payment, we hope that people who usually wouldn’t have as much time or resources, can focus on creating a contribution they are proud of and offers further insight into anti-capitalist politics.

Fightback will be covering the printing costs, however, we are asking for donations to pay for the funding that will go to the contributors.

If you are keen to support this project, there are a couple of options:

1. Write for us! We are looking for articles, art, comics, poetry or design work to be a part of this issue. If you are interested in contributing, then please submit a pitch of your idea (can be a couple of sentences) by May 20^th (late submissions may be accepted). Our priority areas are perspectives from tangata whenua, Pasifika peoples, immigrants and gender diverse people. If your piece is relevant to these perspectives let us know. We are also open to supporting new writers, if you would like some help in developing an idea. 
    
2. Help us make sure writers are paid!  While we aren’t expecting women and gender minorities to fund this project, we would really appreciate you sharing the Pledgeme link with your networks, or passing it onto male supporters who would be keen to donate. 

If you have any queries about the project or how you can take part, feel free to get in touch with Fightback.

Michfest cuts right through to your heart

The Michigan Womyn's Festival is calling it a day after 40 years.  For many, Michfest is the epitome of Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminism.  The eviction of Nancy Burkholder in 1991 sparked protests which have continued to this day.

"She said that MWMF policy was that the festival was open to “natural, women-born-women” only. I replied that nowhere, in any festival literature or the program guide was that policy stated. I asked Chris to please verify that policy and she went to the office to contact the festival producers, Lisa Vogel and Boo Price.

Del stated that the reason the policy was not in any literature was because the issue of transsexuals had never come up as a problem before. Del added that the policy was for the benefit of the transsexuals’ safety and the safety of the women attending the festival. When I pointed out that there were other transsexuals on the land she acknowledged that this was true. Then she added, ‘We haven’t caught them yet, but we did catch you.”

I went to Michfest in the early 1990s in my early 20s, and it was beautiful.  Camping on forested wild land.  Music, workshops, arts, crafts.  Ten thousand women dancing under the stars.

I heard Melissa Ferrick and Phranc and Sweet Honey in the Rock.  Learnt salsa dancing with naked women.  Enjoyed workshops on racism, non-monogamy, writing and s/m.  Talked to women from all over the world about sexism and gender politics and queer life and violence.  Kissed some cute queer girls.  Asked Alison Bechdel to sign one of her books.  Watched sex toy demonstrations.  Realised for the first time that I "did" being queer like a bogan while listening to Dorothy Allison reading stories of working-class women-loving-women.  Went back to the tent and changed my flannel shirt.

There were separate spaces for women who experienced oppressions related to class, race, sexuality, disability, age.  Camping areas for disabled women and Women of Colour, caucus groups and workshops that were open only to specific groups.

I went to a Bisexual Caucus with about 150 women.  We spent an afternoon doing two things - hearing from every bi woman present what it was like being bi where she lived, and drafting a statement to Michfest opposing their exclusion of trans women. 

It's fair to say at that point I knew nothing about gender diversity.  I didn't know any trans people to my knowledge, I'd read one book talking about trans issues - the hateful Janice Raymond's "Transsexual Empire" - and I'd yet to consider that growing up comfortable in the gender I'd been assigned at birth was a privilege not available to many.  I'm grateful to the staunch bi women I met at Michfest for opening my eyes for the first time to what I'd call now cissexism.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The internet probably doesn't need another ode to the wonders of Michfest.  It's clear that for many cis women, particularly cis lesbians, Michfest has been an important safe space from sexism, misogyny and violence against women:

"Vogel was determined to have MichFest be as welcoming as possible for as many women as possible. Which demanded both that it be women-only and that it be accessible to women of all classes. Vogel also wanted to establish space for women of color to have the option of being in a space solely for them. One African-American lesbian told me that the WOC space was the only space her partner, a rape survivor, had ever felt safe. She said, “She knows no one will come for her in the night.” She said no one could imagine her own relief at being able to see her partner sleep soundly, free from nightmares. “That week–”she said."

Those women are angry Michfest has ended.  They say "only one" trans woman has been excluded in 40 years.  They quote key festival organiser Lisa Vogel saying she just wants respect for womyn-born womyn's experiences.  They describe as "McCarthy-like" the tactics of Michfest critics who call for boycotts of the festival.  They feel like their desire for safe space is not being respected.

But the truth is excluding trans women has made Michfest increasingly unpopular.  Even back in 1992, three quarters of women attending Michfest were happy for trans women to come.  These days just 3000 women attend, and artists are dropping like flies.

It’s in that spirit that in 2013, comedian/activist/writer Red Durkin called for a boycott of Michfest and its performers until the policy was changed.
Andrea Gibson dropped out in March. In April, The Indigo Girls announced that this would be their last year at the festival until the policy changes. The Indigo Girls are festival mainstays, and Amy Ray‘s partner is a longtime Michfest volunteer. By taking a stand, The Indigo Girls weren’t just standing up against political adversaries, they were severing decades-long friendships. I anticipated their withdrawal would be the ultimate catalyst for change, yet the festival’s intention lives on.
Nona Hendryx dropped out in June. JD Samson, who’d been attending the festival for half her life and was pulled from a number of queer events for playing it, announced in June that she remained confident “that the MWMF will one day become a place of safety, solidarity, and unconditional love for ALL Womyn,” but that “this will be my last year attending the festival until that day comes.”

Despite being a woman who loved Michfest myself, I'm not in that camp.  The consistency of founder Lisa Vogel's transmisogyny has been tracked by The Transadvocate, which is just as well, since it's been in serious danger of rewriting.  It's worth reading closely.

In 1971, Ms Vogel signed a letter outing a trans woman in an attempt to get her sacked.  "Men without penises" are compared to white women dying their skin to look like Black women. In 1991, Ms Vogel describes the eviction of Nancy Burkholder as necessary to ensure only "womyn born womyn" attend.  She describes Ms Burkholder as a "known transsexual man."  Again in 1999 Ms Vogel describes trans women as men.

By 2000, Michfest issues a pamphlet saying only womyn born womyn who live as womyn are welcome, and asks for this to be respected because it will not be policed.  The pacifist version of Don't Ask, Don't Tell.  Throughout the 2000s, on a number of occasions, Ms Vogel compares Michfest policy of cis only (though never calls it that) with Women of Colour asking for and needing separate space.  To call Michfest policy transphobic is equated with calling Women of Colour space racist.  She also begins to refer to trans women as women.

In 2014 in an open letter, Ms Vogel acknowledges "trans womyn and transmen have always attended this gathering" but again asks for cis only space to be respected because "being born female in this culture has meaning, it is an authentic experience, one that has actual lived consequences."

It's clear Lisa Vogel's commitment to Michfest being for cis women only has not wavered, even if over time she has recognized trans women are women.  

What's curious to me is her justification - that an event open to cis women but not trans women is analogous to Women of Colour wanting separate space, and therefore, it's not transphobic.

This device only works if you believe trans women oppress cis women.  Only then is it possible to conceive of cis only space as necessary.  Because an oppressed group needing space to regroup from experiences of oppression, that's self-determination, that's resistance.  A group which experiences oppression, but not from the group they are trying to exclude, that's privilege.  

This is at the root of the Michfest controversy - and many other places where feminists who have established women-only havens have struggled to welcome trans women.  Instead of seeing trans women as other women needing safe space, trans women have been constructed as part of the oppressive forces, the oppressive patriarchal forces, which do not understand why women need a break from patriarchy.

Diverse experiences of women's lives should be part of any conversation about gender.  The fact is, working class girls get different messages about how to be female than middle class girls.  Race and ethnicity shape our understanding of ourselves as women.  Disabled women have experiences of female embodiment that bear little resemblance to non-disabled women.  And trans women and cis women have some things in common, and some experiences of femaleness that are profoundly different.

If we are scared of our diverse experiences, unable to name differences in women's experiences, we are never going to be able to change the social and material conditions that structure women's lives in ways which constrain us.  Our feminism will not be useful. 

I'm sorry Michfest is shutting it's gates, but not because I think I had an authentic experience of being a woman there.  Rather I'd like to think, after so many messages from other feminists and the surrounding queer community, that Lisa Vogel and Michfest could have acknowledged they were getting it wrong, and thrown the gates open to trans women.  Explicitly open.  They have been going for years anyway, and it's not made one cis woman any less safe.

There's perhaps a lesson here, for other feminist women's spaces that have been hard fought.  Trans women are not our oppressors.  Trans women as a group do not have power cis women as a group cannot access.  We have much in common, and many gendered experiences of lack of safety which may not be exactly the same, but nevertheless require mutual support and solidarity. 

I'm going to finish in the words of one trans woman attendee:

When people all around you are telling you directly that you have no claim to your womanhood, that there is no way you are welcome, and that by merely existing you are furthering the patriarchy, it cuts right through to your heart.

Why are we still here? Commonwealth feminists speak out

Recently I was asked to contribute to "Why are we still here?", a Commonwealth Writers blog about feminism for International Women's Day on 8 March.

My post went up on the day itself, with a new one going up every day since. Seven more will go up over the next week, including:

Maori academic Ella Henry on indigenous women’s rights, and the need for women to re-politicise their personal lives.

15 March: You can read Ella's post here.





Right now you can read:

- Poet and playwright Sitawa Namwalie on the incremental fight against deep-rooted gender equality in Kenya

- Urvashi Butalia, founder of India’s Zubaan Books, on the changing landscape of feminist publishing and its relevance today

- Writer and academic Martine Delvaux on the importance of feminist writing in countering the erasure of women in Canada

- Film activist Marian Evans on the deficit of complex female protagonists in New Zealand’s film industry.

It's PC gone mad, the Feminazis are winning!

Cross posted from my home site.

I’ve found it fascinating watching the men and women around me and on social media discussing a high profile case this week.

Roger Sutton resigned from Cera after sexual harassment claims were made.

There has been an overwhelmingly male chorus singing from a familiar song book. I may be being unfair to men, in that in most cases they spoke over the top of, or instead of women, so the women may have shared their view – I just didn’t hear it. These voices were at work, on radio panels (I’m looking at you RNZ) and on social media. The songs were “it’s PC gone mad” and “he is a really nice guy” “He is really well respected” “he is just a touchy feely guy”.

Most people are.                

 Very few people have their friends and colleagues spouting off to the media about what an asshole they are. Most people have a place where they fit in and feel at home. Most people have mates who think they are a good bloke, a top guy, a bit of a hard case.

It doesn’t mean that for some people they aren’t a danger, an unsafe person, a creeper, that person at work that you avoid. And just because your mother/colleague/wife loves you, doesn’t mean you aren’t a total asshole to someone else.

I would really like people to remember two key things.

      1)     It’s REALLY important to remember that safe is a movable line, and it is set by the receiver of contact, not the giver.

      2 )     Creepy out of line behaviour doesn’t happen because people are always sneaky. It happens because people are entitled and the people around them let it happen.

Here is an easy example of that movable safe line…

People who catch crowded commuter trains in Japan will feel safer with someone standing close next to them on public transport than people that commute on NZ trains. Your personal bubble is what you are used to, and it is often the same among people of the same living environs/culture. But even within a one similar group, not everyone is the same, and direct physical contact beyond a basic handshake should be carefully evaluated. People who have their personal safety violated in the past will not feel safe with hugs from randoms that might be seen as totally okay by the other 60% of the workforce.

As a self-aware professional, it is part of my job to assess how I interact with my colleagues just as much as I do my clients. I can easily go a day without physical contact and come to work for the next twenty years. Missing out on physical touch is nothing compared to the feeling of someone encroaching on your personal space and feeling like you are in a constant state of defence. People need to stop seriously thinking that their right to touch others as they see “normal” is equally important as someone else’s right to NOT BE TOUCHED WITHOUT ASKING.

Any sense that your way is the best way and people should just accept your behaviour involving their space and body is a massively entitled view. This is an especially odd view when you consider that most of the men I was listening to today were deeply concerned at their rapidly vanishing super important right to act how they choose at work. So they DO UNDERSTAND THAT WE HAVE RIGHTS.

Our right to feel safe just isn’t as important as their right to do what they want.

Heads up lads. You will know when the feminazis are winning, and it won’t be because you can’t harass us at work. It will be when you are held accountable for those actions and the population stops seeing you as a nice guy for it. I'm gonna add in an extra wish that the media ceases it's witch hunts of women who dare to complain.

It doesn’t seem that extreme to me. But then, what would I know?

Please feel free to fill in this survey – it is asking about your experience on both sides of the equation, so by all means, if you are feeling hard done by because someone has complained at work, fill it in.

Pat Rosier and Who We Remember

Pat Rosier died on 12 June. She was many things to many people and won’t be forgotten by any of them. Her death, from a heart attack at age 72, was unexpected, and it prompted an outpouring from all those whose lives she touched: both personally and politically.

Pat, left, and Prue; and Pat's son, David with partner, Julia

And it’s for both personal and political reasons that her life is important to remember; her death important to record. The personal is best left to those who knew her intimately, particularly her partner of 17 years, Prue Hyman and her son, David. I contacted Prue, wondering if it was OK to write something for The Hand Mirror about Pat: “As far as I am concerned,” she replied, “the more people write and talk about Pat the better.” The first thing you should probably read is what Prue herself has written, in a tribute titled “Pat Rosier – Shalom” and which is online at the Kapiti Independent. That piece also includes lots of links, including to Pat’s own blog and to the video of the 300-strong celebration of Pat’s life, held at Paekakariki where Pat and Prue lived together.

As Prue writes, Pat’s early life was relatively conventional. Her dad was a railway clerk, and she grew up at a time when no one in a working class family, “let alone a girl”, went to university. She married, had two children and trained as primary teacher, which was her job from 1973 to 1985. Then, something happened. Pat found Simone de Beauvoir, the Women’s Liberation Movement, lesbianism – and reinvented herself.

Pat chronicled at least part of that reinvention in the 1991 collection, Changing Our Lives: Women Working in the Women’s Liberation Movement, 1970-1990 (eds Christine Dann & Maud Cahill, Bridget Williams Books). Her entry was a spare but powerful three pages composed entirely of bullet points. Here’s a selection with ellipses indicating where things are missing (with thanks to Bridget Williams Books, Prue and Christine Dann for permission):

“In 1970 I was:

• twenty-eight years old

• trying hard to be a good wife and mother, and succeeding rather better at mother than wife

• sure that men were more interesting to talk to than women, who were stuck in domestic and kid stuff (apart from one or two good friends)

…

• bored, bored, bored, but not recognizing it

…

• back-combing my hair, shaving my legs, and making my own dresses

Pat, left, and Prue

By 1980 I had:

• discovered Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex in a bookshop in Takapuna and read it with an increasing feeling that, for the first time, something made sense of my life

…

• bought an automatic washing-machine and a car

• realised that among women teachers I was considered opinionated and outspoken

• almost reached the end of my marriage

…

• noticed that there was something going on called a women’s movement and wondered how you got into it.

By 1990 I am:

• a radical lesbian feminist with both socialist and separatist tendencies

• co-editor of Broadsheet, New Zealand’s feminist magazine

• an experienced women’s studies tutor

…

• cynical about the media, the government and the state

• totally sick of everything to do with it being 1990, especially ‘celebrating’ a treaty that’s never been honoured

• hardly ever bored

…

• angry about phonecards, post office closures, user-pays education, and all the other exploitations of rampant capitalism

• more at ease with myself and my life than at any earlier time

• planning to become more outspoken and outrageous.”

It was in 1985 that Pat took over the editorship of Broadsheet magazine, getting the job after Sandra Coney stepped down, and holding it for the next six years. (She was also a co-founder of the Women’s Studies Association journal.)

Anyone wanting an understanding of the so-called “Second Wave” or “Women’s Liberation Movement” of the 70s and 80s would be well advised to spend some quality time with Broadsheet, which published its last issue in 1997 and is apparently in the queue to be digitised by the National Library. Even if you don’t have access to the magazine itself, Pat made sure there was another entry point. Been Around for Quite a While: Twenty Years of Writing from Broadsheet Magazine, (New Women’s Press, 1992) is a compilation of selected articles and brief history of the magazine’s first 20 years, edited and introduced by Pat.  

 Like the magazine it’s drawn from, the compilation is both uplifting and depressing. Uplifting for the impressive range and diversity and power of the writers and topics; depressing for how many of the issues are still with us. Or, as Pat put it in her introduction: “Few of the issues raised in Broadsheet have ‘gone away’ or in any way been resolved. New ones appear, and they all move in and out of the foreground.” Also in the intro, she chronicles some of the discussions, debates and phases, for want of a better word, that both Broadsheet and feminism went through, from abortion in the 70s (and still!), contraception, marriage

Sharon Alston's illustration of Pat's 1986 article 'Fighting Fat Phobia'

(and alternatives), child-rearing, equal pay, Māori women’s voices (and challenges to the WLM), lesbians (“with a ‘lesbian cover’ appearing in June 1973”), violence against women, rape in marriage, attacks on beneficiaries… and so it goes. In Broadsheet proper, Pat also wrote numerous feature articles, including in 1986 “Fighting Fat Phobia”, about “how hatred and fear of fat is used to control women”, and several in-depth pieces on reproductive technologies.

After leaving Broadsheet and Auckland in the 90s, Pat continued her activism and writing – turning to fiction, and eventually publishing four novels. (Details of her nine books are available here at her blog.) According to Prue, more publications are planned: “Her lesbian writing group is hoping to produce two posthumous volumes – the first their already planned group volume where they will attempt to use some of her partly written fifth novel (she and I were both convinced this would be the best – and the others were good). The second will be a book of her poetry – including some written for me and never yet published or seen by anyone else.”

Pat's 2004 novel

Those post-Broadsheet years were also marked by terrible sadness with the death in 1996 of Pat’s daughter Helen, then 32, from bronchial pneumonia. Prue quotes from something Pat wrote about this, the “saddest event in her life”:

“The death of a daughter changes my reality; everything after is different from what was before. The grief and pain are a blanket of fog for months and I welcome the fog, fear its ending. I grab and cling to the grief, the loss, the sadness — I cannot bear to lose that gnawing, grinding, consuming pain, for this is what I have of her; I must keep her always in my mind, my heart, be overwhelmed, or else she is fully lost to me… Time does go on. A year and more. The grief is just as intense, but smaller in size… I have a grief in me. My grief at the death of my daughter will not die, I will not ‘get over it’, it will not be ‘healed’ by time. She is in me for my forever, a forever I grasp fiercely, demanding joy.”

            I got to know Pat at a distance when she was editor of Broadsheet in Auckland and I was doing some writing for the magazine including a fairly short-lived “Our Woman in the House” column I wrote while working as a journalist in Wellington at the press gallery. I was insecure, she was supportive. More recently, she was just as supportive and helpful (and I was probably just as insecure) during the five years I was researching and writing my 2013 book on the abortion rights struggle, Fighting to Choose.

            Thinking about Pat these past few weeks also got me thinking about what an important role she played in the politics and culture of this country, and yet how invisible it probably is to those outside her circles. In turn, I began to wonder (yet again) how the WLM years will be remembered – or not remembered – given that we are starting to lose some of the women, like Pat, who were there.

I hope you will excuse the segue into a bit of research, but following these thoughts, I’ve started work on a longer piece about this question, (will, for example, our WLM/ “second wave” have to be “rediscovered” as the so-called first wave of feminism had to be?) and I’ve arranged a few interviews with older, middle, younger feminists. To that end, I would very much welcome any thoughts readers might have on these questions, just pop them into comments. (You can also email me directly at alisonmccull[at]gmail[dot]com)

More importantly, of course, do write about Pat. Reiterating Prue, the more people write and talk about Pat the better. (And for northern readers, a celebration of her life is planned for Auckland on Saturday August 30 at 1:30 pm . I will add location details to this post when they are available. Venue: Auckland Women's Centre, 4 Warnock Street, Grey Lynn.)

Kore rawa atu e wareware.

Above and below, flier for Pat's life celebration

Shouting from water skis

Sometimes being a woman in a male dominated field feels a bit like trying to teach from water-skis.

No, water-skis are not the best platform to teach from.

No,  people don’t hear you as well over the roar of engines and water.

Yes, you will probably fail more often

You lose people’s attention more when people are focused on where you are, rather than what you are saying.

It’s exhausting, and even the easiest lesson is hard to do from a difficult place to stand.

But if that is the ONLY space you have to teach from, and people will watch because of the spectacle then what are you going to do?

Quit and lose your voice and audience?

Fight for a better space and risk people refusing to tow you?

Or carry on, and hope like hell that eventually someone sees how stupid this is and gives you a more appropriate space to teach from in the future.

All of the above options are entirely legitimate, and I wouldn’t judge anyone who took any of those options. I also don’t blame people who don’t even go into those spaces because they aren’t well enough, fit enough, have enough time, or can deal with the stress of such an unpleasant work environment.

Refusing to work on skis isn’t unreasonable.

Refusing to provide a better space for women to work and have a platform IS.

The fact that some of our most interesting scientists in New Zealand (I can name Siouxsie Wiles, Christine Winterbourn, Heather Hendrickson, Margaret Brimble, and Judy O'Brien off the top of my head) are not seen regularly in our media is a damn waste, and frankly it’s a bit of a surprise that even Souxsie with her bright pink hair and award for science communication, is mostly under the mainstream radar.

Dr Dickinson is getting there, and she is getting there on the shittiest water skis possible. BUT SHE IS GETTING THERE.

While we watch the rubbish she has to deal with, hoops she has to jump through, and unreasonableness of her environment, let’s take the focus off the stunts she has to pull, and on why that’s the ONLY SPACE SHE HAS FOUND AN AUDIANCE.

Because I’m pretty damn sure that if anyone had any kind of choice, they wouldn’t work with people who undermine them, degrade them, and bring their personal life into a professional discussion. But we do.

Because that is the only space we have.

Let’s stop pointing at the women who are the spectacle and start looking at why that’s the only space women have voices.

This post has been Crossposted from my home blog.

Why I think you are creepy

Cross posted from my home blog.

I started to write a piece on what sends out warning signs for “rapey” behaviour, and before I got too far I decided I wanted current examples from twitter discussions. Scrolling through the conversations happening under the terms rape and consent on twitter I came to a startling realisation.I had never considered why someone would argue in support of someone’s rape behaviour, and I suddenly realised that my firm belief that most people are decent humans and wouldn’t deliberately hurt someone goes completely against what I see every day – assholes gagging to argue with me about what they are “allowed” (see legal definition of rape) to do to someone else’s body.

People on what I would call “My side” of the argument (pro-consent, anti-rape-culture) were making impassioned pleas for people to stop and listen to the idea that they should wait for full consent.

-To try to understand that simply not fighting back isn’t consent

-To stop minimising how fucking traumatic date rape is just because the victim knows the rapist.

In one particularly revolting discussion they failed to make a man understand that a wife has the right to refuse sex, and ignoring that refusal IS rape.

In most of these arguments a man (I try REALLY hard not to make this a gender issue because rape affects both men and women, but I’m sorry to say the majority of rapists are cis men.) is working his little heart out to validate his point. Getting really worked up, really distressed and at times incredibly ANGRY trying to make the point that is not REALLY rape because

And I suddenly thought... why the hell they are fighting SO HARD for their rights to someone else’s body.

I could only come up with 3 possible answers

1) They are so sheltered they genuinely have no idea of how horrific these discussions are for many people, and they are so privileged they genuinely believe it, and so arrogant they won’t consider that they might be wrong.

2) They have acted in a manner that would fit under the heading of rape, but isn’t straightforward violent, stereotypical rape, and they only just realised that, and they are fighting for their reputation, even if it’s just to feel ok about themselves.

3) They genuinely believe they have the right over other people’s bodies at certain times, or with certain people, or under certain circumstances.

Group one and three are easily solved with a better understanding of rape culture from the get-go, better education of men and women about consent, and a society that supports people’s right to choose. I’m going to leave them to one side except to say that if you fit in those categories sit down, shut up, and listen. JUST LISTEN. Maybe you will learn something.

I don’t think group 3 are particularly common, until you start to raise the issue of inebriation. And then the line gets really freaking blurry, and there are a scary number of “good people” who will fight a person’s right to bodily autonomy because they WANT them and the target isn’t in their right mind anymore.

And then it struck me like I had run into a wall.

All these people fighting alongside me are fighting for the right to never be touched again if that is their choice. This choice hurts no one, and changes no one else’s life. But it means the WORLD to us.
Those fighting against us are fighting for their right to someone else’s body, on their terms when they want it. Just because they WANT IT. They don’t NEED it. It doesn’t change their world or make them a different person. They just WANT it.
You SERIOUSLY think that your right to someone else’s body is more important than anything else.
You will fight tooth and nail for that right.
What do you get if you lose that right? Nothing. You get to go home and have sex with yourself.

What do I lose if you rape me? A sense of bodily autonomy, safety, strength, health. I lose a lot for your “right” to touch me.

So you people arguing the ins and outs of ‘date rape’ or ‘is it really rape if you have had sex before’ or ‘is it rape if she is my wife’. Either you are so fucking selfish that your right to pleasure using another body is more important than my bodily autonomy…

Or you aren’t actually arguing about sex at all. The ingrained sense of entitlement to someone else’s body is so strong that you are scared that you won’t just walk away and leave the drunk girl passed out on the couch. You are frightened that your communication is so crap that you won’t see the signs that they don’t want you to keep touching them but they are too scared to speak.

And you don’t want to be charged as a criminal.
That’s why you seem creepy.
Either you are arguing THAT passionately for your right to MY body... Or you have already decided that you want it, don’t have enough control to wait until I’m sober/conscious/in a better frame of mind, will take it, and are arguing that you shouldn’t be charged.

Creepy. Super super creepy.

Have some self-control. Yeah, maybe you will have less sex with other people, but who the hell told you that was a right, rather than something you earn IF someone cares enough about you, or finds you appealing enough to suit their tastes.

I can tell you right now that if someone left a note in my purse at a party saying “wow, you were toasted, and I really like you, call me when you are sober and we can hook up” I would probably call that person.

Consent, it’s sexy.

Guestie: On Carrying Patriarchy's Baggage while We Kick its Butt

Thanks Jessie Anne for this contribution. 

Content warning: involves discussion of eating disorders.

I have the pleasure of knowing many amazing feminists; feminists working for social and climate justice, feminists working against racism, transphobia, homophobia. I know feminists who are working in their own way to make their own workplace or industry less patriarchal and misogynistic.  Feminists raising kids to be kick ass feminist warriors. They remind me what strength looks like. They ground me with something healthy to aspire to and be inspired by.

Lately I’ve been thinking about the internalized patriarchy that these women quietly carry around with them every day.  The baggage I don’t know they have which I haven’t had a chance to help carry. I’ve been thinking about how many of us have similar experiences, and if there are things we can do as a movement to help ease that load.

Being a feminist is kind of a tough gig sometimes, and, at least for me, it has meant some pretty high self-imposed expectations that I added to my already hefty list of unobtainable goals; complete with accompanied guilt.

My particular clusterfuck of internalized patriarchal baggage I’m focusing on here is my experience with eating disorders. It’s long and complicated, and not really a story I have time for here. Although I no longer define myself as someone with an eating disorder, in some ways it continues, though less acutely. I think anyone who has experienced an eating disorder know that the lines between ‘recovered’ and not can be blurry at best.  It started with dieting when I was 8, and has at different times involved vomiting multiple times a day for months and years on end; otherwise named Bulimia; the awkward unpopular kid in the class of eating disorders. It has meant a lot of things between that too.

It has meant secrecy, and shame, and often most overwhelmingly, utter mental exhaustion. Sometimes it was so consuming that I had little room for anything else. Sometimes it was less about what was actually going into my body, and more a hatred of my body that was so strong I barely left the house for days. Feeling repulsion and disgust for the skin you live within can be very near debilitating.

I am somewhat at peace with the journey around these issues with myself and my body being a lifelong one. This realization has led me to examine the pressure I have put on myself to be free of internalized patriarchy.

I’m not going to wake up one morning to find myself free from being triggered by comments or situations that make me feel the need to make drastic and unhealthy changes to myself. But I think I now know a place where I can calmly reject those thoughts before they take hold for long; a place which I consider a victory and has taken years of hard work to get to.

For many years I thought, sometimes unconsciously, that I could only be a fully-fledged feminist and activist once I got 100% over my eating disorder and my sometimes-general-self-hate.

Unfortunately, through my own interpretation of what it means to be a feminist, I’ve spent years thinking that I had to one day be a ‘fully formed feminist’ without hypocritical thoughts and with a impenetrable shield that deflects all patriarchal nonsense from piercing my external layer.

In some ways, I’ve labeled myself a feminist-in-waiting.

This may have, in part, contributed to my silence around my eating disorder. Maybe if people knew about it, I thought, almost subconsciously, my feminist membership card might be revoked, only to be returned once I got the ‘total-self-love’ stamp. The unobtainable expectation to be the internally perfect feminist has also led to feeling an added layer of unnecessary guilt. Cause if there’s one thing women could do with a bit more of, it’s guilt, right?

This expectation I set for myself for so long was largely self-imposed and the expectations self-created. But I do wonder how many other feminists out there find it difficult to talk about their own internalized patriarchal baggage. Looking back at conversations and dialogue around issues like eating disorders that I’ve observed or been a part of, I do think that there can be a sense of ‘otherness’ attached to them, which can leave you feeling like these things are experienced outside of our feminist and activist communities. This otherness doesn’t encourage inclusive and open dialogue when they might be experienced in the here and now.

A feminist friend and I also recently talked about the internalised patriarchy we carry into relationships with cis males in our lives. We admitted to each other (this after years of chatting about pretty much everything) how much we often are part of creating a patriarchal power dynamic in these relationships. Once it got down to examples it was kind of funny; and relieving! I wasn’t the only one, and she wasn’t either!

It’s just another example of how the reality of our lives as feminists is still affected by internalized patriarchy. Some of it is pretty hard to admit, too. My friend and I were both left shocked at the fact that we’d never been in a space where we could acknowledge these behaviours with others. Are we the only ones?

A very quick glance around the interwebs reveals many blogs and articles by feminists highlighting similar pressures; the pressure to be a beacon of pure post-patriarchal light in the dark and the silencing which comes with that invisible pressure.

Another friend helpfully pointed out, when I raised this topic, that the pressure comes not only from within the movement but from outside of it.  Impossibly high standards are made for us by patriarchy, and it seems by feminism too. But I think these standards are contributed to by the market-friendly co-opted parts of feminism which are at times hard to identify; the smiling and happy feminist front; the ‘feminism for everyone’, buy your happy relatable feminist T-Shirt here!

Maybe we could set up more spaces to discuss what patriarchal baggage we all carry; maybe that would help share the load. A lot of these issues, the internalized patriarchy shit we deal with in private, are sometimes subtle and unclear, even to ourselves. But it’s important we talk about them, or at least talk about whether and how we do. Because whether it’s a secret eating disorder or recreating patriarchal power relations in our relationships, or whatever else, these things can end up affecting not only ourselves, but those around us, and our wider communities.

I’ve come to realize and accept that many of us can carry the worst parts of what we are working to change within us, and that those parts don’t necessarily fall away when we pick up the axe aimed at patriarchy. The axe helped me cope with them; it even empowered me to eventually move beyond my eating disorder, but there are parts of me that remain affected. And that’s ok.

So what I would say to the 17 year old me, and any other young girl feeling so enraged and empowered by this new knowledge of feminism to put to her experience is this:

Being a feminist is a journey. It’s different for everyone. You don’t live in a silo that separates you from the influences of patriarchy. The parts of yourself that will be, at least in part, shaped and defined by patriarchy will come in different forms and will be different for everyone. But you can positively contribute to the dismantling of patriarchy even while having terrible feelings created BY patriarchy.

Patriarchy is fucked, but no matter how it fucks you up, don’t let it also take away your claim to being part of the movement to dismantle it.