#Fem11 Pt 1: Endangered Bodies

Yesterday I went to my first feminist conference, Fem 11 (organised by UK Feminista / Kat Banyard) and this is the first of a couple of posts about it. I’m separating them out because they tackle different issues.

The first seminar of the day, I actually wanted to go into the End Violence Against Women discussion, but I was late, and that was full so I went downstairs and dived into the nearest room. When I saw it was the ditching dieting/bodies related one (run by Endangered Species), I was a bit disappointed because it was probably the one I was interested in the least. How wrong I was!

To be perfectly honest, I didn’t really listen much to the opening statements but more to the views of the people who were in the audience. The women organising the event spoke a little about the dieting industry – worth billions – and how the culture of dieting is totally damaging. They explained that the BMI system of ‘measuring obesity’ is flawed, that individual bodies need different amounts to sustain themselves. Under the BMI system, Brad Pitt and George Clooney would be classed as obese – yet they are seen as the most desirable men in the world! They then asked people to think about some questions, among these lines:

• What does a diet mean to you?
• What did you think would happen when you started dieting?
• Can you remember a carefree time of eating?
• Do you think you will feel at peace with your body?

There was another question, and they were probably better worded than that but that sets the scene well enough. Obviously, I am well aware that other women are conscious about their bodies, but “other women” has always been an abstract concept to me. It has always been an unreachable, unimaginable group of ‘other women’, so I’ve always felt like secretly it is just me that suffers from body confidence issues. But it’s hard to remain that way when there are hundreds of women – and men – in a room together, nodding in sad agreement, each with their own startingly similar story.

It started out quite general, but as the discussion went on, people started mentioning things that I had honest-to-God thought were just problems with me as an individual. There are a few people who ‘stood out’ to me, but actually I wish I could tell you everything that was said by the audience because it was all so heartbreakingly true.

One woman talked about her dieting cycle: She had been dieting for most of her life, and she’d tried every diet going. Basically, dieting and losing weight became and obsession that took over her life.
One lady in the audience said she had just arrived in the UK, and that she has never felt so much pressure to look a certain way in her life! She said that she felt sorry for women in the western world because they can’t escape the pressure.
A woman of 43 said that she’d been dieting since she was 19, and that she assumed that when she hit her forties she would feel at peace with her body. She admitted she wasn’t sure she ever actually would.
At one point, school teacher and councillor, Rania Khan, said she knew a pupil who was saving up for surgery. The girl was 14.
A young woman, in response to the “What did you think would happen when you started dieting?” (may have been “what did you want to happen”) question, said: I wanted people to leave me the hell alone. She spoke about how other people assume they have the right to talk to you about your body, and tell you what you’re doing wrong.

A couple of people said something so relevant to me I almost cried. One woman said that she grew up in a house where her mother hated her body, and her sister hated her body, and she had never felt anything but hatred for the way she looked, because she didn’t know any different. This is exactly the situation I’m in. I have never known anything but hatred for myself. I have always been aware of food and what it does to my appearance/body, ever since I can remember. I remember being put on small diets when I was young. I remember my mum struggling to lose weight; I remember my sister struggling with an eating disorder. I remember counting calories, weighing food out, feeling guilty every time I ate. I still do. The over-consciousness of food has made me not really appreciate it as much. Every time I eat, it feels like a reminder of how bad a person I am for not being thin; of how greedy I am because I can’t not eat for days; how little will-power I have. I have a bad relationship with food, a really bad one. But I don’t know how to break the cycle because it is so ingrained in everything I do.

One girl said that she tried hard to intellectualise it, but she struggled to really take to heart that everyone is beautiful regardless of their size or their shape. A slim woman stood up and said: I have a fast metabolism and I’ve always been thin, but people even say to me “What are you going to do when you have a baby? What will you do when you inevitably put weight on?”… So even thinner women suffer from body fascism and negative assumptions.

The key thing here is that weight-consciousness is literally inescapable for women. It’s only when you really think about it that you realise it is such a massive issue. If you lose weight, as another woman pointed out, people compliment you – “You look lovely! Have you lost weight?” – being thinner makes you more beautiful. You question if you looked bad before, because suddenly dropping a few pounds makes you more desirable.

I probably have more to say on the subject but I needed to write about something that is a big part of my life, and say thank you to all the women in that seminar. Thank you, for making me feel that I’m not alone. Thank you for your brutal honesty. I didn’t contribute myself but I sat on the sidelines close to tears for most of it. Your words resonated with me and I just hope that some day we will live in a society that judges people on personality, not weight. To end with the (probably misquoted) words of a 14 year old girl in the seminar: “I try to tell my friends that they are beautiful, because they are. I try to tell them that they shouldn’t worry, because I don’t judge them on their weight. I judge them by how nice a person they are.”

Is misandry a myth?

I was talking about racism a while ago with a friend – the kind of friend who really makes you think; one that forces you question your world view, introduces new concepts and challenges you to stand up for your beliefs. I said that years back, when I was walking home from school, I was the victim of a ‘racist attack’. “What do you mean racist attack?” he said. I explained was walking home from school when I got called “white prostitute”, “white bitch” and more by a group of 3 black boys, only slightly older than me.

“That’s not racist abuse, Soph” he said. And he rationalised it for about ten minutes, and I sat there wondering why he probably had a point; it dawned on me that actually it probably wasn’t racially motivated. If I had been a white man, I would not have been shouted at – I am almost certain of this. Had I happened to have been non-white, would I have been shouted at? Possibly. And then I realised, the part that scared me the most, the part that really angered me about that interaction was that I was referred to as a ‘bitch’ and a ‘whore’ – words with sexual connotations. Words that belittled me as a woman. I realised, had they just shouted “Hey, whitey!” would it have bothered me? Nope.

Someone tweeted me the other day saying that if anyone accuses me of misandry (it happens to me a lot) then they are inherently sexist, no questions asked. So, this kind of idea got me thinking. Is it possible for an oppressed minority section of society (by any means – race, gender, sexuality etc) to be ‘hateful’ towards the other and for it to be as unacceptable as it is for those in the majority to do so?

The idea that misandry is not actually possible is not a new one. I suppose for me it makes sense most when you consider that every interaction between two people does not take part in a social ‘vacuum’ free of assumptions, pressures, individual background and history, and a whole host of other variables. If interaction took place in an ideal society, where “isms” did not exist; where individuals are treated as individuals, then clearly this would not be the case – clearly it would be misandrist to say certain things, and the word would carry as much weight as the term ‘misogyny’. But we live in a society where women are consistently put down, not by individuals, but by their culture; by most men they meet (without a thought as to that potentially being the case!) and where women are stereotyped as characters of fantasy… Princesses in pink, ruthless bosses, etc. When men are misogynistic to women, it contributes to a wide range of experiences carried down for generations and perpetuated throughout her life in everything she does. When the situation is reversed it’s hardly comparable.
Much like me and my ‘racial abuse’ story: Why would it matter for someone to call me white? I am. I’ve never had the burden of being oppressed because of my race. And so men have never had the burden of being born a woman.

Sociologist Allan Johnson says: “Given the reality of women’s oppression, male privilege, and men’s enforcement of both, it’s hardly surprising that every woman should have moments when she resents or even hates ‘men’.” This suggests that not only is it reasonably normal for women to feel exasperated at their treatment in society, but that misandry is actually a valid response to oppression that women face. And they are right to do so, as they are restricted in varying degrees from doing what they want to in the same way that men are allowed to.

What’s more, the accusation of misandry tends to come out when discussing feminism and womens’ issues. It’s more of a cynical attempt to turn the very real and very prevalent ongoing victimisation and subordination of women into ‘what about the menz?!‘ It’s a classic derailment tactic when you don’t have a leg to stand on: Turn a genuine social problem around and make it about you, personally. Ignore the fact that we are not discussing your personal issues here, and continue. Tell me how bloody unfair it is that some girl you met five years ago broke your heart, and doesn’t even send you Christmas cards anymore. What a bitch she was, eh?

The fact is that misandry is an insult resorted to when there is very little capacity for honest and truthful debate. Why, otherwise, would you offer such a retort that generally shuts down debate and, ironically, proves the point that women do not feel listened to? It’s a way that, to me, men signal that they are not willing to even see it from a woman’s point of view – it is the clue that they have lost the argument and they are no longer willing to engage. Shutting down debate because you are a woman and he is a man… It’s sort of like mansplaining.

In looking for definitions of misandry, even the Urban Dictionary definition of misandry points to Allan Johnson’s work, which posits that misandry has no place in a patriarchal society. He states that “mainstream patriarchal culture offers no comparable antimale ideology (for women), and so their resentment is based more on experience as a subordinate group and men’s part in it.” (From The Gender Knot: Unraveling our patriarchal legacy) In other words, we are oppressed by a group of ‘men’ (in very general terms) so we are entitled to dislike this vague group of ‘men’ – and it’s not misandry to do so.

I could probably write a lot more about this and I may well do in the future. But to surmise: to say that women are misandrists is to completely ignore the clear gender divides in society, ignore thousands of years of marginalisation, and ignore social and cultural traditions that seek to dominate women, sometimes in the most subtle of ways. And it makes you a twit to boot.

On fear of street harassment being ‘ridiculous’

[Potential trigger warning - I realise I have not been good at pointing these out in the past]

I linked to this guide for men – ‘how to approach strange women and not be maced‘ – on Twitter and Facebook. I tweeted yesterday that a friend’s response to the piece was that it was patronising, and I quote: “Get a fucking grip. Someone spoke to me on the train! Oh no! I think I might cry, please someone call the police my rights have been encroached upon!” I then tweeted:

That’s a quote from a man who clearly doesn’t understand that actually yes for some women being spoken to by strangers IS harassment.

I seem to have ruffled a few feathers, from “You don’t honestly believe that do you?” to suggestions that I need a “reality check”. No, I think they are the ones who need a reality check – to realise that many, many women feel this way but wouldn’t ever say it. Purely because this is the kind of reaction they get. “Don’t be ridiculous. Not every man is a rapist. You’re being far too paranoid.”

This smacks of complete ignorance to the fact that when women are raped they are constantly told they could have done more. They could have not gone out on their own. They could have not been so drunk. They could have worn something different. Yet when we take measures to protect ourselves, we are being irrational?

I have had my bum pinched, been shouted at, been stopped in the street to be told I am “beautiful”, I have had horrible experiences with men I know, or men that I felt safe with. I have been sexually assaulted by a bouncer in a club – when leaving the club, as he requested, he decided to change from aggressively pushing me out of the door, to pulling me towards him “Gimme a kiss! Gimme a kiss!” … I have never fought so hard in my life. A bouncer. They are supposed to stop this sort of thing happening, aren’t they? He did the same to my friend. I wanted to report it but I didn’t think I would be believed, so he is probably still working at the bar. Perhaps he has raped someone there. Who knows?

There is, of course, a distinction to be made between actual rape and street harassment, both being on the same scale but at different ends. Street harassment is milder, but still encompasses everything from a wolf whistle to physically touching a woman, to exposing oneself in public. This happens to women all the time. I don’t think men understand that. In any given month I have probably experienced at least one example of street harassment. On a night bus home once, I saw a man masturbating in front of me. Could I say anything? No. Did anyone else notice? No. But it shook me up, and it made me feel sick, and it made me feel powerless and disgusting.

This happens to women as regularly as it rains. All the time. How do we know that the man approaching us is simply wanting to ask the time, or wanting something more? Maybe he ‘just’ wants to touch our breasts. Who knows? I’m not sure what is so horribly offensive about me wanting to reduce the risk of being attacked in any way. I really don’t. And as for ‘crying’ about it – when people approach me, do I cry, punch them, or react in a negative way? No. Of course not. But my mind goes into overdrive, thinking ‘Can I get out of this if I need to? Where can I go? What do I have on me that could hurt him if I needed to? Is anyone else around that could help me?’ I think of how I can survive it, should I need to. But externally, I’m warm and friendly. I answer their question, or listen to what they say. I don’t know why so many people are offended by my need for self-preservation. I am never rude to people unless they warrant it.

I’m not the only woman who feels this way, I can guarantee that. And I’d appreciate it if I wasn’t called ridiculous, for feeling (and for me, it is just a feeling; not a reaction) something that is a perfectly justifiable reaction to situations that have gone awry in the past. What is ridiculous, though, is that I have to live in this sort of world where I am forced to second-guess everyone and everything. I have to think of every possible scenario and prepare myself for any eventuality. That article about how to approach women has some great advice for men on how to be less intimidating, and actually, more respectful to women who are strangers. I don’t see the issue myself.

The Feminism discovery

I am big fan of debate on Twitter. I love outlining a topic, throwing out ideas and seeing how different people – people who I have come to consider, very loosely, as ‘friends’ – view things.

So imagine my surprise when I started talking about the definition of feminism, and how on earth men can possibly self-define as feminist, and nearly drowned in responses. Our views of things are often dictated by our experiences. I have often been wary of the tag ‘feminist’, and suspicious of the motives of men who define themselves as such. To me, feminism has long been shorthand for ‘sleeping around and not caring’. Promiscuity shows defiance in the face of outdated social beliefs, right?

At one part in the debate, I was linked to this article, a review of Living Dolls: The Return of Sexism by Natasha Walter. I would like to personally shake the hand of the prostitute quoted in that article, for being so brutally honest in saying to Walter:”I believed what everyone said, that all this promiscuous sex was so empowering.” This is spot-on. I don’t want to get my bra out and burn it just yet, and these attitudes may seem archaic. You may laugh, to think that this kind of pressure is still put on young women; that it’s exaggerated. Not so. Growing up as a girl is extremely difficult – you have to tread the line of being liberal and feeling free to have sex with whomever you choose, and not having so much sex with so many different people that you’re a free-for-all. It’s the ‘slag-frigid’ line, if you will.

I discovered during this twitter conversation that my view of what counts as feminism had largely been propagated to me by men who are “feminists”. I don’t doubt they genuinely believe in equality between the sexes – but they use this as an excuse and a way to cajole women into bed. Ironic, huh? It’s not an explicit “I’m a feminist – let’s have sex”, it’s more an implied suggestion that because they believe in equality and empowerment, they are somehow doing you a favour – helping to empower you, as it were – by sleeping with you. My tweet about that was met with disgust and disbelief. Yet as a helpful follower added: “‘I want to help you find yourself‘ is another one. Sorry, I didn’t realise I was lost and a fuck would ‘find’ me.” I realised I was definitely not alone..

There’s a fair few ways in which sexism is absolutely inherent in society, and it’s been this way ever since I can remember. On a regular basis, women have to deal with sexism across the scale, from the explicit “You can’t play Guitar Hero, you’re a girl!” to the implied and downright manipulative “Well, everyone else I shag is a feminist and they think it’s ok…” In between you have to put up being slapped on the arse or otherwise touched in clubs; men leering at you as you drink at a bar (Heaven forbid you should want to go out drinking with your friends and not want sex!) and people trying desperately…Oh-so desperately, to get you into bed. This is hassle I can really do without.

My response is usually to just sigh, roll my eyes and try and ignore it. I’m exploding with rage inside, but I don’t shout. Actually, I don’t even usually bat an eyelid, let alone say anything. Why? Because society has told me that this is the burden of being a woman. This is what will happen to you for the rest of your life and there’s nothing you can do about it. There’s no point in arguing back because they might get aggressive. So just sit and take it, and hopefully they will get bored and leave you alone.

So as outraged as I am that a report by a Tory think-tank – led by a woman nonetheless! – has concluded that the battle for equal payment for women has been won, it’s hardly that surprising. Somebody please tell Dr Catherine Hakim that past progress does not mean we can sit on our laurels, have a cup of tea and take a break. (And then do the washing up afterwards, before making sure the house is spotless…) Perhaps this is the best we can do (though I doubt it) with regards to legislation but why actually stop striving to improve? This is the kind of ridiculously backwards attitude that leads to stagnation in society. This is the kind of attitude that lets young girls down. We need to constantly push for better, in every aspect of policy; in every aspect of our lives.

Don’t settle for “Well, we’ve come so far, this is as good as it gets” when it comes to policies, sexism and gender equality legislation. And don’t sleep with anyone who says they’re trying to help you ‘find’ you or empower you. You can ‘find’ and empower yourself quite sufficiently without them.