Feminism: a charged term undeserving of society’s stigma

My 77 Cents: Cover up your judgement: clothing choice does not reflect sexual desire

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.

My 77 Cents: Girls should fight for their right to party

For better or worse, college parties are not only a source of social interaction, but also of social currency. They set a dynamic of power and of expectation. The people who throw the parties have control.
In fraternities, for instance, the guest-lists, themes (with costumes), drinks, and even the space itself is all monitored and governed by the resident brothers, not by their guests. Members of that house will often control who can and cannot enter the house, using standards such as physical attractiveness or sorority affiliation.
Now, this is not to demonize the Greek system; indeed, being a Bowdoin student, I cannot claim to know exactly what Greek life is like. However, recent studies and media attention do suggest that some of the less flattering depictions of campus life in fraternities or sororities are not always fictitious.
Currently, sororities are not allowed to host parties in their houses.
In a recent op-ed in The New York Times, “Sororities Should Throw Parties,” Juliet Lapidos wrote that allowing sororities to throw parties—and thus to have some agency over the social scene—could decrease the number of sexual assaults committed against women. She posits that parties at sororities would prevent “the worst excesses” of fraternity parties, including spiked punch, and would give female partygoers a kind of home court advantage, so to speak.
However, this idea has proved both contentious and apparently unrealistic. Julie Johnson, of the National Panhellenic Conference (which represents 25 national sororities and women’s fraternities), noted publicly that the social standards—i.e. that women do not host parties with alcohol—are old and deeply rooted.
Johnson said that many sorority members are underage, which makes serving alcohol at parties a legal risk. She added that there would be new responsibility if girls threw parties: they would subject themselves to the associated costs, risks and cleanup. It is true that with power comes responsibility and perhaps, with a little increased responsibility, there might emerge a little more power for sorority women.
When asked why sororities generally remain alcohol free, Johnson replied, “it is what it is.” There doesn’t seem to be much compelling evidence that sororities should not be able to throw parties—it’s just tradition.
There are a lot of old standards that are not ideal. Part of making progress is not adhering to every old rule—we must acknowledge traditions, but we must also allow them elasticity over time.
I do think sororities should be able to have their own social life and throw their own parties. It would probably not be plausible to have sororities take all the social responsibility, and I’m not convinced that they necessarily should.
The way the system might work best is if both fraternities and sororities had the ability to host events, and could alternate monthly. This adjustment would also take some of the pressure off of fraternities, who now bear all the responsibility for social life in the Greek system.
With regard to sexual assault, it remains to be seen whether or not a new system would be effective. Giving women increased control over the social scene might be an important step. But it should not be the only step.

My 77 Cents

Feminism: a charged term undeserving of society’s stigma

This piece represents the opinion of the author:

January 23, 2015

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.

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