This is What a Feminist Looks Like

Or, self-determination in the age of multiple ideologies.

The Fawcett Society famously produces a t-shirt with the slogan, ‘This is what a feminist looks like’ emblazoned on the front. I love this t-shirt for many reasons – I love the idea of positive self-identification, of visibility, and of variance across the spectrum of that visibility – one of my favourite media images relating to this is the shot of Bill Bailey (hooray for Bill) wearing said t-shirt. Those who know me in meat life will know that I am a tattooed person, and this phrase is one that I seriously contemplate getting inked from time to time.

I also love it for a much simpler reason: truth. But that reason is also complicated (it was ever thus).

I want to use this post to talk about the difficulties in self-determining within feminism, but I would think it would apply to any other ideological stance. Basically, one of the ‘tenets’, if you like, of (western) feminism, and it is a very strong axiom, is that feminism means telling the truth about your own life, and (re)claiming that life (from the patriarchy) for yourself. I am not going to make this a history lesson, but this is essentially what Betty Friedan was trying to get at fifty-plus years ago. Society tells you that you belong to it; the kickback is that you can tell it to fuck the hell off (I may be paraphrasing here).

But there are two issues with this. The first is that the thin end of the wedge of the ‘it’s my life and I’ll do what I want’ mindset is isolated individualism. This is fine if you live in a cave, but generally ideology doesn’t exist in a vacuum, and if you are kicking against a hugely, overwhelmingly dominant ideology, you will need allies, with whom you broadly agree. Strong individualism can often be where faultlines appear in feminism – for example, there are pro-life advocates who self-determine as feminists. While I am absolutely all for free speech and opinion, this jars so uncomfortably with my idea of what feminism is that I have an extremely hard time accepting these people as feminists. And yet if that is what they say they are, who am I to disagree? I don’t ‘own’ feminism – in fact for me that would pretty much be the antithesis of the movement, so as a feminist I have to find a way to synthesise my unease at this kind of stratification with my overall aims (you know, nothing too ambitious, just dismantling the entire hegemonic system of patriarchy and smashing it into the dust with my righteous fists ).

The second issue, which is connected, is that the idea of individualism is a very western concept, which shuts out at the door other global definitions of feminism which, let’s face it, are going to be a far better fit for purpose in the culture they originated in than a post-colonial tacking-on of late 20^th century western ideas. I think we all know what kind of disasters lie down that road. Again, I have some personal ideological issues with this – for me, a woman in a niqab who says she is a feminist: this is hard to admit, but this would bother me, even if I am (rightly) ashamed to admit it. But I have to examine how much of that is just ingrained racism/cultural negativity (and a healthy dose of atheism) and how much fear of feminism’s very precarious gains being toppled. This is the line we all have to walk if we believe strongly in something – there will always be pushback from somewhere, and I think our task as good ideologists is to properly examine our own prejudices and adjust accordingly.

The pro-life advocate feminist may be coming from the angle that sex-selection abortion is profoundly anti-feminist – this is a valid point. The niqab-wearing feminist may be signalling her devotion to a higher power, rather than wordly authority – this too is a valid point. Neither path would ever be where my feminism is going to take me, but before I reject ‘other’ kinds of feminism, I would do better to listen to those alternative voices and what they actually have to say about their motives. This doesn’t mean I am being mealy-mouthed about what I believe – I am about as pro-choice as it is possible to get, and I am hugely against religion-based body-policing. But if I don’t listen to my sisters who think differently from me, then I am a crap feminist – because if these women are telling the truth about their lives, surely the best thing I can do is listen?

I’m going to finish this post with an anecdote. A few weeks ago I was out with friends for birthday drinks. As those who know me know, I am a bit of a glam girl – long hair, make up and high heels. I also happen to have stopped shaving my armpits back in April (for the record, I like it. If I didn’t, I would shave ‘em again). One of my friends noticed, and remarked upon it, and I made some sort of gag about flying the hairy flag for feminism. He was completely gobsmacked, and his words to me, and I quote, were “Fuck off! You aren’t a feminist, you’ve got lipstick on!”. Yes, we were drunk, and yes if we had been sober he would probably have been more articulate, but the whole thing just absolutely summed up for me why, despite its problems, we do need self-determination – because you don't get to define my feminism for me. That is so laughably anti-feminist that I don’t know where to begin!

 

But I do know one thing – my progressive liberal feminist self will continue to bear her hairy armpits and gnash her pearly whites behind the reddest of red lipstick for as long as she sees fit, and for as long as she sees fit to listen to the voices of others. As a very wise woman once sang, I know there is strength in the differences between us, and I know there is comfort when we overlap.