Lisa Rundle wrote a brilliant column recently, reproduced in rabble.ca, called ‘The Feminots‘. She often writes stuff that I wish I’d had the gumption (or the grace) to do myself, and she clearly does it better than I ever could have.
Unashamedly, I quote:
A few weeks ago I was in the middle of a number of unfortunate situations with women, in these cases women older than I am, who identify as feminists but seemed to blithely treat other women like poop. I thought to myself: Ageism! I thought: Sexism! I thought: I’m going to write about these… these, these… feminots!
That was a few weeks ago. I tried the idea on a number of other women, older and younger, and everyone got pretty charged by it. “Yes, yes!” they’d say. “I’ve experienced that. The hypocrisy is infuriating!”
I found myself jotting notes and examples from my own life with fervour. I left myself voicemails while I was out so I wouldn’t forget. I began day-dreaming, tangentially I admit, about the sound-alike feminauts* — flying through space, boldly charting fabulous new feminist territory and wearing lots of shiny things, zapping feminots and hypocrites of all kinds with the light of truth and justice… Sigh.
But mostly I thought about the stark division between the women I know who live their politics, who inspire me and make the world better in so many quiet and unseen, super-local ways simply by the way they treat others, and those whose regular treatment of the women around them fails to live up to feminism’s most basic tenet—that all women deserve fair and respectful treatment. (And would a little appreciation every once in a while be so bad? But I digress again.)
So why is it that so many feminists don’t seem to walk their talk? Heck, those patriarchs walk their talk all the time! I mean, they don’t just walk; they strut, they swagger, they swivel their talk. Sigh…
I’ve decided now to call this phenomenon – inspired by Lisa – the ‘feminitch’. That urge to scratch away at the scabs of un-feminism, to peel away the withered wide-eyed-ness of my youth, those unsuspecting moments of being a feminist groupie… till I discovered backstage.
A friend and I spent a couple of hours the other day, standing outside a women’s shelter, feminitching away till we were bathed in a glow of righteous wrath (and pain). To be fair – both to ourselves and to those feminists we love to hate – we were honest enough to express human frailty, and to acknowledge the ultimate coping mechanism: cut and paste. Take what you will from someone’s her/history and present, admire it, learn from it, and leave the rest be. If you can.
Lisa goes on to say:
Maybe I should retract my new term. Fun as I find it, it might not be as helpful as it could be. Goddess knows I’m sick of the good feminist/bad feminist shtick. (Maybe something a little more open-ended would do the trick? Femiwhaaaat? Feminish…) I don’t want to imply that the poopers who inspired this column are all-round horrible people. Each of us can react in ways we sometimes regret. The trick, I think, is to diligently try to take responsibility for that. To question why we make this or that decision. To find out where the knee-jerk responses come from and to do better next time. To apologize.
Because our politics mean something. And the way feminists behave, particularly toward other women, has a real impact — both on what feminism is perceived to be and how women feel about themselves, which goes on to have a huge impact on this gendered world. As feminists, we need to keep opening conversations and talking about the insidious ways oppressions operate in our workplaces, families and organizations, and that includes our feminist workplaces and organizations.
And they all ain’t feminots. The person who sent me Lisa’s column in the first place was an older feminist whom I admire, respect, and… like. Enormously. As with so many others in my life. Bless ’em all. They make feminism worth living.
Lisa concludes by saying:
And, for something a little sweeter, let’s take a moment or two to really value all that unseen good work — the truly feminist workplace, the truly feminist counsellor, neighbour, friend, partner, sister. The ones who engage in those crazy ethical struggles, who own up to their mistakes, who are improving the world by the way they try every day. Here’s to you, you wonderful feminists you.
Here’s. To. You.
Dear Alo,
Why label a woman a feminist? Who is a feminist? Can there be differing levels of feminism?
I don’t know if I am a feminist myself, and I hesitate to use such a label. You know, the self proclaimed feminists that I have encountered to date have created a distrust towards the word in general.
I am constantly beset by hypocritical ‘feminists’ from ‘women’s welfare’ volutary welfare organisations, who make innane statements like “maybe you shouldn’t report that rape, maybe you’re just imagining things.”
And what about those women who look down on women who make the choice to stay at home and remain a domestic goddess. I have a neighbour who makes snide comments about my mum staying home to ‘mind the kids’.
Strange world of feminists, where women can talk about women’s liberation, but cannot bear to look at a schiziophrenic girl because she isn’t ‘normal’. They call a gay woman abnormal, and treat HIV positive women as blights of society.
Sometimes, I wonder if I live in a nation of hypocrites.
And then I remember women like our grandmothers, mothers and aunts, cousins etc.
In this context, the label ‘feminist’ does not seem so hypocritical anymore.
Maybe I am a humanist. Or a humanitch. [pfft… that sounds like a disease! :p] Ha ha ha
Divi
And heres to You, my heart just sank down to my knees when I read you’re leaving the country(even for a while)
I can’t tell you how much I will miss you, just being around, out there.
We’re there Alo.For you.
And I wish you luck and strength with your work.Come back stronger and invigorated like never before.
@Divi: Labels have their pros and cons; as I’ve said elsewhere, the good thing is that they create communities of belonging, of commitment, of accountability… The struggle is to keep the commitment, the accountability and the belonging going beyond the labels.
Those who call themselves ‘feminists’ – like I do – do so because they have a political commitment to making options and opportunities available to all peoples of the world (not just women, btw, but those dis-privileged in other ways). Sometimes you need labels that will startle and shock people into wondering why the politics is needed in the first place.
But yes, there are differing ways of thinking about this, about doing this. And all of us – no matter what we call ourselves – have trouble practising what we preach, of walking the talk. The feminists I know and love and admire are those who are most honest about this struggle.
I think that’s where we begin: not by claiming perfection in approach or practice, but by acknowledging imperfection in our attempts. Whatever you call yourself, ultimately, any ism is about what you do, and how others perceive that doing, rather that about what you claim to do. So there are Dalit women in the middle of rural Karnataka who are standing up for themselves and claiming political space: to me they are feminists, even if they have never heard the word themselves.
Ultimately, feminist is as feminist does.
@Rahi: Dearest friend, will always be around, virtually and otherwise. Must keep an eye on all your doings out there, naah?? And will keep you posted on the process of invigoration!