Are we feminists or pro-feminists (Marc’s take)

Should men sympathetic to feminism call themselves feminists?  I don’t think so, for a few reasons. I think it is presumptuous, a misunderstanding, a hostage to fortune and a political mis-step.  In what comes next, I want first off to acknowledge that my position is shaped by reading some fabulous supple thinkers (though errors remain mine).  I can’t track down the exact publications, but these on the notion of ‘allyship’ were part of the mix, I think.

First off, it is presumptuous; who am I to say that I behave as a feminist should?  Whenever pressed on the ‘greatest of all time’ question, Roger Federer (#yum) dodges it and says ‘that’s not for me to say’.  There are a gazillion things I do, a gazillion I have done, that make me cringe and think that the label ‘feminist’ would be a lie.  I grew up in patriarchy, I am of patriarchy. Just because I am (or claim to be) ‘woke’ doesn’t make me a feminist.    [See the last paragraph of this post for more on this]

 

Secondly, beyond my personal aesthetic preferences, I think the whole label of “being a feminist” is a dead end for men, based on an idea of mis-placed concreteness.  Being a male supporter of feminism is not a property of an individual, like your height, eye colour, love of Mozart or whatever. It is a series of actions, based on thoughts and reflections and open-ness to criticism and the myriad ways that your privileges imbricate with your experiences and outlooks.   It’s not a destination, where you get to sit on a pile of accrued good-guy tokens, it’s a never-ending journey, made up of lots of bumps and scrapes and mis-steps.

Thirdly, by proclaiming yourself a feminist, you are planting a big target on yourself.  When (not if, but when) you fuck up, you can held up to be either a hypocrite by women who are (rightly!) suspicious of self-proclaimed “feminists”, or by right-wingers/alt-right/mens rights types.  And you ruin your credibility in the eyes of potentially “convertible” onlookers, as well as messing with your own morale. (And wasting time and energy that could be better spent on, you know, activism.)
Finally – and I am not so sure on this one- I think it might make it harder rather than easier to have useful conversations with men who don’t ‘get it’.  By proclaiming that you have ‘gone over to the enemy’ (in order to get laid more, they’ll say), then is it not harder to have useful conversations about porn, how to treat partners, social injustice etc [yeah, and the sum total of those conversations that I have had this year is, I think, zero.  I live in a liberal bubble].

So what is my alternative?  Well, I think the slightly (!) clumsier formulation “man who is trying (and probably failing most of the time) to behave in accordance with the basic propositions of feminism” – [ i.e. that is, ‘a movement to end sexism’ (h/t bell hooks).  It doesn’t roll of the tongue, does it? But it does capture that behavioural aspect, that this isn’t a property that someone arrives at after the accumulation of a certain number of good guy tokens and can then relax. It isn’t a thing, it’s a process, and – as such – one that is going to need constant input and thought.

 

The counter-argument to this is that I am just claiming I am not a good feminist in order to extract ‘no, you’re a great ally’ comments from women to boost my pathetic ego.  At least as far as I can know – I am not.

Are we feminists or pro-feminists? (Steffen’s take)

Post by Steffen Hirth (despite what the author stamp says)

“I am a feminist.” I say this about myself, and most of the time I feel comfortable about it. However, it might matter to the reader that, as a subject, I am usually interpellated as an abled white male, I am heterosexual, I live in the Global North in a former colonialist empire that regards itself and is usually regarded as ‘developed’, I own a European Union’s passport, I have a university degree and a monthly income from an academic position that provides me with financial power slightly above my personal needs, most of the time I am still regarded as ‘young’, and I belong to the species that set itself the objective to dominate this planet. In other words: I am relatively privileged and at present it is unlikely that any significant form of class discrimination, racism, homophobia, sexism, ageism or speciesism is directed to me. With all this in mind, there are obviously severe reservations against my intention to talk about and even define feminism(s). Be critical.

Some people think that white people should not evaluate whether something is racist or not because it is people of colour (POC) who experience racism. Practically, I agree with that[1]. Racism is both an (inter)subjective experience and a social and cultural structure which, in the contemporary power relations, is almost entirely directed towards whoever is regarded as POC. From this perspective, there is a logical progression to the view that men cannot be feminist because they are men and so they do not experience the same forms and the same intensity of sexism as women do. I agree, of course, that as men we don’t have the same experiences and we’re (structurally) much less vulnerable to sexism, but I still believe we should be allowed to call ourselves feminists.

My analogy with racism might be deluding, because I certainly think that men shouldn’t explain to women in which situations women are experiencing sexism or discrimination, just as white people shouldn’t explain to POC when POC are entitled to feel racially discriminated. This is ‘mansplaining’ and ‘whitesplaining’, and not just bad manners, but an act of intrusion and appropriation. My intention, here, is merely to think about the eligibility of calling myself a feminist, while the gender identity that I am usually performing, and which is socially imposed on me by others, is clearly male. Indeed, I think, that I can be a male feminist and should be entitled to be acknowledged as one by other feminists. I don’t mean that they should accept me simply because I call myself a feminist, but they should

  1. regard me as a potential feminist regardless of my gender (in theory) and
  2. judge me based on what I do and say about issues relevant to feminist concerns (in practice).

I should maybe further explain the context. My friend and colleague, male and generally as privileged as I am, argues that men shouldn’t call themselves feminists, they can only be ‘pro-feminists’ or even exhibit ‘pro-feminist behaviour’. I assume he holds this view out of respect for the work that female activists and theorists have done to emancipate themselves and other women from patriarchy. Even if I share this respect for great feminist women, I still don’t think that men shouldn’t be entitled to be feminists. More importantly, I argue that the notion of a ‘pro-feminist’ implies a problematic essentialisation of feminism, sex, and gender that feminists have argued against for good reasons. I am now going to elaborate more deeply why I think so.

 

Challenging binary fixations of space, place, gender, and the future

Feminists fight against the many ways in which society disadvantages women as a social group. It is a profound part of past and contemporary social hegemony that people are categorised into male and female which each are connected to certain expectations and rules of how one should behave, what one is legally allowed to do, how much one’s labour is worth, which social positions one is assigned, when and how one is expected to speak or act, and which spaces one can roam in. Whether by ignorance or on purpose – because it is easier, because it benefits them –, many people still take these roles and hierarchies for granted, perceive them as naturally given, and therefore regard them as unchangeable.

At the heart of feminist theory and practice is the aim to overcome this and many other binaries. Categorising the world into male and female, nature and culture, or the West and the rest, is a practice which digs trenches between social groups, and it is as much a product of certain power relations between these groups as it is constitutive of these power relations. Geographer Doreen Massey in her influential work highlights how analytic categories, which are conventionally conceived as ontologically separate, actually co-constitute each other (Massey 1992). For her, the spatial constitutes the social, and the social constitutes the spatial – thinking these categories relationally prevents us from succumbing to the illusion that these categories have a fixed, essential, individual existence. Whether we are talking about people or analytical categories and theoretical concepts like space or the social, contemporary relational feminism is directed against the view “that the world is composed of individuals and that each individual has its own roster of nonrelational [‘natural’] properties” (Barad 2007: 333). Like Marxism, it is a critique of current social relations – structural but contingent connections and disconnections between living beings, things, substances, practices, concepts and meanings that are maintained, for example, by binary thinking, speaking, and acting, by simplistic inclusions and exclusions.

Simply put: Binary thinking reduces social complexity to allow control over bodies. Feminist theory directs our attention to the processes of how binaries come into being, how they are socially and materially enacted (Barad 2007). By objectifying women and demonising Mexicans and Muslims, US President Donald Trump successfully strengthened his image as the strong white male capable of ‘making America great again’. Seen from a perspective of white male supremacy his task might indeed require to exercise control over bodies along the lines of gender, race, and class. Avoiding this kind of binary thinking, for Massey (2005: 12), requires us to take ‘difference/heterogeneity/multiplicity/plurality’ into account. She insists

‘that the story of the world cannot be told (nor its geography elaborated) as the story of ‘the West’ alone nor as the story of […] the white, heterosexual male […] Such trajectories were part of a complexity and not the universals which they have for so long proposed to be’ (ibid.: 11; italics mine).

Claims of universal truth such as Western supremacy appear to be true, not because there is any natural basis for it, but because thinking like Trump means to provide simple logics which gain meaning by blending out the complex rest of possible truths, defying the contention, the contradictions, the plurality of meanings, voices and perspectives. Being aware of the powerful making of social and spatial boundaries for Massey is crucial to a critical notion of politics:

‘[I]magining space as always in process, as never a closed system, resonates with an increasingly vocal insistence within political discourses on the genuine openness of the future […] only if we conceive the future as open can we seriously accept or engage in any genuine notion of politics […] Now, here again […] there is a parallel with the conceptualisation of space. Not only history [and future] but also space is open. In this open interactional space there are always connections yet to be made, juxtapositions yet to flower into interaction (or not, for not all potential connections have to be established)’ (Massey 2005: 11).

Massey, here, is defending the very conditions for the existence of politics. If we don’t regard space and time as genuinely open, we live in a world in which the history of space-time appears objectively reconstructable, its trajectory determined, and its future already written – why trying to engage in politics, if we cannot change anything? Sadly, a big number of people, at least implicitly, have a deterministic world-view (or are not vigilant enough to recognise acts of political closures), and a small number of people know well how to instrumentalise that (enacting political closures, i.e. universal truths). Thinking politically, and thinking in a feminist mind, it only makes sense to regard the future pathways of the universe as radically open or indeterminate (which is different from just being unknown, and neither should future outcomes be misinterpreted as being arbitrary).

 

A performative understanding of feminism

Masseys thoughts resonate with – and in some cases build on – a range of other feminist theorists (cf. for example Gibson-Graham 2006, Haraway 1991, Young 2006). Most prominent are philosopher Judith Butler’s theoretical considerations of how subjects are constituted performatively. In her conception performativity means that the identities of both gender and sex are constituted through the materialisation of regulating norms (Butler 1997: 40). Powerful discourses stabilise these identities through their iterative authority.

The notion of a ‘pro-feminist’ implies that men, rather than being feminists, can only be supportive of real feminists. It draws a material and discursive boundary around feminists (female), pro-feminists (male), and non-feminists (male and female). While male non-feminists would be non-feminists by nature, female non-feminists would be non-feminists by, for example, personal choice or structural incapacity. From this perspective, the very definition of feminism would be based on the exclusion of men because of their anatomic features. But regarding feminism as a women’s club, in my view, means to lose sight of feminist’s actual goal: empowering women pending the dissolution of the structural injustices and inequalities around sex and gender. At its ultimate level, feminism is a political project. It should be defined by its goals, not by its members.

In pursuit of this goal, feminists have shown that the existing inequalities are not just a ‘natural’ given. When we adhere to sex and gender, we do perform roles – at times consciously, but more often unconsciously – that make the sex and gender binary abundant and appear natural. Furthermore, many feminists have insisted that feminism is not about denying differences. Indeed, there are important differences between humans, and between men and women as well, but we can no longer just take them for granted. We have to take responsibility for the question which differences should matter in a particular context, and which ones shouldn’t. For being a feminist one shouldn’t have to be well endowed with a vagina; it should be sufficient to support the political project which raises awareness that things could be performed otherwise because the future is yet to be determined.

Steffen Hirth, Manchester, 22/02/2017

 

References:

Barad, Karen (2007): Meeting the Universe Halfway: Quantum Physics and the Entanglement of Matter and Meaning (Durham, London).

Butler, Judith (1997): Körper von Gewicht (Frankfurt am Main).

Gibson-Graham, J. K. (2006): A Postcapitalist Politics (Minneapolis).

Haraway, Donna (1991): Simians, Cyborgs, and Women. The Reinvention of Nature (New York).

Massey, Doreen (1992): ‘Politics and Space/Time’, New Left Review, 196, 65–84.

Massey, Doreen (2005): For Space (London).

Young, Iris M. (2006): ‘Responsibility and Global Justice: A Social Connection Model’, Social Philosophy and Policy, 23, 102–130.

[1] In principle, the term ‘People of Colour’ could be used for any kind of appearance – including white – which becomes object of being defined as deviant by more powerful subjects. We don’t know what the future holds.