Cover up your judgement: clothing choice does not reflect sexual desire

My 77 Cents: Why it’s time for Bowdoin’s presidency to have a female perspective

Arguing that Bowdoin should select a female president to replace President Mills is difficult in no small part because this decision is endlessly complex—and only one facet of it deals with gender. I understand this. Yet I feel it would be wrong not to make the case for a progressive change of pace for the future leadership of Bowdoin. Fellow NESCAC schools Amherst, Bates and Wesleyan have had female presidents. So have Brown University, the University of Pennsylvania and Harvard University to name a few more examples.
Yet these schools stand firmly in the minority. In a 2012 study, the American Counsel on Education stated that only 26 percent of institutional leaders in the United States were female. These numbers do not come close to reflecting the male-to-female student ratios of any college or university. Furthermore, only 36 percent of tenured professors are women, according to a 2009 Forbes article. In STEM (science, technology engineering and mathematics) fields, women make up less than a quarter of the workforce even though they earn 41 percent of science and engineering degrees. Only 20 percent of computer science degree recipients are women. Part of what these statistics vigorously indicate is that there is a wealth of female talent in many dimensions of education that remains untapped and underappreciated.
It is easy enough to argue that we should elect a new president who is uniquely qualified regardless of gender. And this point is not an irrelevant one. President Faust of Harvard University herself said upon election, “I’m not the woman president of Harvard. I’m the president of Harvard.” Her statement brings up an important point. To single out women in this search is to come uncomfortably close to reinforcing the “othering” of women, or favoritism towards them. Yet Faust continued to say, “It would be wrong not to acknowledge that my has tremendous significance.”
It is universal knowledge that the road to social justice has never been easily paved. We do not live in a world that is gender blind; sometimes, to create social change, it is necessary to stir up a little controversy in order to make way for progress. Yes, it would be silly to elect a new leader of Bowdoin just because she is a woman—or, for that matter, just because he or she is any one thing in particular. A person’s qualifications for the job are far more intricate than one genetic trait, after all.
However, I do not think it is unreasonable to count gender as one of the most important factors in this upcoming decision. This nation has rarely changed anything by being blind to difference—it doesn’t work that way. Indeed, considering a candidate regardless of gender may even obscure the potential benefits that come with gender. A female president may have a meaningful new perspective. Surely there are several candidates who are right for the job, and I feel confident that one of these candidates will be female and will be just as qualified as her male competitor.
Boris Groysberg of the Harvard Business School states, “There is a big difference between diversity and inclusiveness. Diversity is about counting the numbers; inclusiveness is about making the numbers count.” It is one thing to elect a woman for the purposes of—to put it crudely—symbolism. Yet, it is entirely another thing to elect a woman because she is qualified, because she has a vision and because she offers a new perspective.
Having a female president would diversify Bowdoin’s presidential history. It would change the statistics—and this is not a bad thing. But I would hope, too, that this decision will be only the beginning of an effort to make these new numbers count. We live in a time in which men and women of all colors, nationalities, races and sexual orientations will be given opportunities to succeed as leaders, both in education and in the world at large.
To quote Faust once more: the doors to change were not “blown outward by a faceless wind…those doors were stormed and broken down by a lot of brave and determined visionary people.” At Bowdoin, we are taught to be these visionary people. We are taught to be leaders in all walks of life. Let us lead the way.

My 77 Cents: Feminism: a charged term undeserving of society’s stigma

I recently learned that an anti-feminism party, Justice for Men and Boys (And the Women Who Love Them), is standing for a few seats in the Parliament of the United Kingdom in May’s general election. Apart from being deeply annoying, its platform sparked a number of questions about how “feminism” as a movement—and even as a word—should be thought about in this day and age. It seems as though feminism-as-a-movement has become less specific as time continues. Or rather, it has become a signifier for a number of behaviors, thoughts and political ideals, many of which women are hesitant to align themselves with. And this seems fair enough—after all, no one wants to be reduced to one single attribute or to a misleading stereotype.
Yet, when we talk about feminism, it seems like everyone has a different concept of what the word actually means. Some assume feminists fit the stereotype of the man-hating woman (a concept Emma Watson addressed nicely in her speech at the UN last year), while others might eschew the movement as antiquated, or antagonistic or purely irrelevant. Indeed, some argue that we live in a post-feminist society, one which no longer needs a feminist movement for social equality.
These varying perspectives raise a number of questions. One essential question seems to be, firstly, who can call him or herself a “feminist”? Last year, the media scandal surrounding a Duke University student’s involvement in the porn industry sent this debate hurdling into the public consciousness. The student explained that her participation in pornography made her feel empowered as a woman. She identifies as a feminist. On the opposite side of the spectrum, women clad in burqas are very often chastised for participating in institutional misogyny. Women should be able to identify as feminists whether or not they are at an extreme in terms of modesty. A feminist can come in any garb from any perspective, so long as they self-identify as such.
It would be foolish to give a definitive viewpoint of these issues here; they are far too complex and, admittedly, I’m not sure how I myself feel. What if a woman is pro-life? Can she be a feminist? Is there some universal definition to which one must adhere to be a “proper” feminist?
I have encountered many women and men who express the follwoing sentiment: so long as I think women are equal, why do I need to call myself a feminist? I see this point. And yet, despite my slight confusion about what constitutes a “feminist,” it always concerns me when a women does not identify as one. It seems that where feminism can most firmly establish its identity is in its core political views.
Last year Salma Hayek accepted an award at Equality Now’s “Make Equality Reality” event for her work in women’s rights. In her speech she stated, “I am not a feminist. If men were going through the things women are going through today, I would be fighting for them with just as much passion. I believe in equality.” Why can’t one believe in equality and be a feminist at the same time? What is so wrong with the word?
On a political scale, a “feminist,” it seems to me, would be an advocate of equal pay for equal work, would support justice for women regarding domestic violence and street harassment, and would be in favor of access to childcare and reproductive rights. If you believe in these things, do you have to call yourself a feminist? If you believe in the political, social and economic equality of women, I would argue that you should.
Feminism, like any concept rooted in social ideals, brings with it political and social extremes. But aligning yourself with a word does not mean you have to burn your bra (though if you want to, do that too). To refuse to call oneself a feminist—or to chastise another for doing so—is troubling to me, since we women are standing on the shoulders of the Feminist movement! We are here today at Bowdoin because of it.
I hear a lot of arguments about how we shouldn’t be surprised when women are powerful, but rather just think of them as people. But why can’t we see them as people deserving of equality while still acknowledging that they are members of a previously disenfranchised and oppressed social group? This isn’t a post-feminist society. Feminism isn’t dead. And it is these sorts of multifaceted debates that keep it rigorously alive.

My 77 Cents

Cover up your judgement: clothing choice does not reflect sexual desire

This piece represents the opinion of the author:

December 5, 2014

Three girls walk into a bar. They look around, surveying the territory when their eyes fall upon two other young women. These other ladies are wearing short dresses, five-inch pumps and a lot of makeup. “They’re such sluts,” the three girls whisper spitefully. “Put some clothes on.”

Before you roll your eyes at what has become the Feminism 101 cliché of “slut-shaming,” I want to look into what these circumstances actually suggest. Firstly, the notion of “slut-shaming” is troublingly unspecific. Are we chastising women for the actual act of sleeping with multiple partners, or for dressing like they want to be doing so? This is, of course, not to label all women mean-spirited, but to expose clothes-shaming, or the “Crop Top Effect” (patent pending), as an issue that merits equal attention.

While I want to focus on girls’ critiques of each other, I do think it’s relevant to examine some instances of clothing-shaming that have recently come to light but are in no way new phenomena. For years and years, schools have instilled strict dress codes stating that women are forbidden from wearing items like tank-tops, shirts that show their bra straps, or short skirts. I do think these early instances of clothing-shaming contribute to the way we judge women later in life.

All that should matter in a school is that students come to class ready to learn. And sure, dressing respectfully can be important in instances such as say, interviewing for a job. The reasoning behind school dress codes is that classrooms deserve an equal level of professionalism and respect. Makes sense. But what exactly does “appropriate” or “respectful” mean?

What if a student came to school wearing a gigantic M&M costume? That’s not exactly professional, but if her bra isn’t showing, is it considered permissible? The real question is, why are the majority of these rules so quick to police the female body? Why is it so quickly assumed that someone’s wardrobe choices are intentionally sexually provocative rather than merely comfortable or convenient?

When younger girls are sent home for wearing their skirts too short, or wearing a “skimpy” top, this only teaches girls to be ashamed of their bodies. It also dangerously implies that their education is in some way subordinate to their appearance.

Now, why are girls so hard on each other? One argument is that girls feel competitive with one another for male attention, and thus feel threatened when other women dress to impress men.

People generally tend to make “thinking errors” in these types of situations. A “thinking error” means that we tend to invent reasons for other people’s behaviors that often have no basis in reality, but are instead the projected products of our own insecurities or beliefs.

So, we might think, “this girl wore that sexy outfit to purposefully undermine me and my subtle beauty” instead of, “that girl looks great in those pants and I am not going to assume that the reason she wore those clothes has anything to do with my personal reaction to her!”

Obviously I’m being a bit facetious here, but I’m sincere in my overall belief that clothing is often an unfair standard by which to judge other women. If we are to assume a girl is dressing to make it “easier” for men to see she is interested in having sex, this has serious consequences. This kind of thinking is deeply problematic, and I don’t think it would be too far of a stretch to say that it falls directly in line with the “she was asking for it” paradigm. It is just not our job to ascribe motives to another person’s way of presenting themselves to the world. To do this is presumptuous and unfair. When will a girl’s body just be able to be her own?

What would be better than covering women up would be providing them with educational opportunities, sex education, media literacy, and the ability to make informed choices about their own bodies. And yes, the way we dress can make a statement about who we are or how we feel, but it doesn’t necessarily. To assume that it does is, at best, catty, and at worst, hazardous. We have power in setting the standards, and we can do better.

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