Feminist Myths and Taylor Swift

So what exactly IS a feminist?

I’m going to admit that I can’t give a short answer to this question.

Well I could, but then this blog post would be about two sentences long, and that wouldn’t be much of a read, so…

Traditionally, a feminist is a person who advocates “social, political and economic rights for women equal to those of men.” 

Pretty straight forward, right? 
Well, in a perfect world it would be, but the truth is; modern feminism means a lot of different things to a lot of different people. There are feminists who fight for their right to education, and those who fight for women without a voice. There are feminists infuriated by the wide exposure of sexual and submissive images of women. There are feminists who campaign for equal opportunities in the workplace. There are men who want their daughters to have the same bright futures as their sons. There are women who want to be able to wear shorts on a hot day without being cat-called. 

Every feminist has their own priorities, because we each have our own experiences of gender inequality. If someone can ‘identify’ as a feminist, then I suppose it’s fair to say that feminism is an identity, right? It’s pretty difficult to define an identity.

As such, I guess it’s also kind of difficult to discuss what feminism is “all about” - but what I’d really like to discuss is what it’s not about.

Misandry.

We all know that old tune, don’t we? The one that plays off feminists as loud, hairy, sexually frustrated, man-hating bigots? It also presumes that all feminists are women. It’s hard-going to feel like people are deliberately misunderstanding your views. A few months back, I read an article by Toula Foscolos that neatly summed up this feeling: “…as a woman, it’s exhausting to constantly point out the obvious sexism around you. It’s tiring to have to explain to people why you find such things offensive”. In the same vein, it’s depressing to see our efforts met with rebuttals like #INeedMasculismBecause – a campaign designed to “piss off some feminists”, because apparently these women “demand special treatment”. What’s really sad is that some men mistook the hash tag campaign for a serious discussion, and aired their own grievances very publicly. Many of these were personal issues relating to the unfair expectations and double standards imposed on men by patriarchal society. The campaign was incredibly petty and ultimately did damage both to men and the women it was initially aimed at.

What troubles me is that this perception of feminism as a war against men is a prevalent one. I see it validated everywhere. In an interview for The Daily Beast last October, the bubbly pop singer Taylor Swift briefly discussed her take on feminism:

“I don’t really think about things as guys versus girls. I never have. I was raised by parents who brought me up to think if you work as hard as guys, you can go far in life.”

Well, shit. 

Ok, of course Taylor Swift has the right to declare that she is not a feminist. That’s fine. But as a pretty 24 year old whose album sales have broken records, Taylor Swift is undeniably influential. She has millions of fans, many of them young and/or impressionable. Personally, I’m worried that these kids who idolize her will read her misinformed interpretation, and decide that being a feminist means hating your dad and brothers.

Feminism does not equal misandry.

Feminism, at base, is anti-misogyny and pro-equality. Beyond that, everyone is entitled to their own opinions on specific feminist causes. For example, my own Dad identifies as a feminist, but disagrees with the ‘Lose the Lads Mags’ campaign, as he feels that there are more urgent feminist causes. Cool, that’s his opinion (that’s not to say that I didn’t argue with him heatedly over it). My point is: my feminist father is not an angry, hairy, man-hating bigot.

(All right, he's a bit angry and hairy)

By the same token, my desire to see Lads’ Mags and Page 3 abolished does not make me a misandrist. 

Furthermore, it is entirely possible to enjoy your femininity and still be a feminist. 

It’s also possible to be a feminist and support men’s rights. 

I want to live in a society where men in abusive relationships can receive the same kind of support available to women. I want to see the custody of children awarded to the most suitable and responsible parent, and not just given to the mother without a second thought. I want ANYBODY who has been sexually abused or raped to be heard.

And at the same time, I want:

• To earn the same money as a man for doing the same job.
• To be able to wear a tank top in the sun without someone commenting on my breasts.
• To not be visually assaulted by normalized images of partially nude women everywhere I go.
• To not hear women labelled ‘sluts’ because they are openly sexual.
• For myself and other women to not have to live in constant fear of verbal or physical assault.
• The right to pursuing an education, a passion or a career to be afforded to everyone.

I don’t think this makes me man-hating bigot.

In Defence of Beyonce Knowles

I’m a little late to the argument, but I recently read an article that called out Michelle Obama for hailing Beyonce as a role model. It left me troubled and a little perplexed, so I’ve decided to construct a delayed rebuttal. Back in April of this year, writer Rakhi Kumar addressed an open letter to the US First Lady, in which she gave Michelle a good scolding for her choice in role models for her two young daughters.

Kumar went on to deconstruct Beyonce’s costume at the Mrs Carter World Tour, and politely explained to Michelle that such wardrobe choices indubitably promote sex trafficking. This letter was originally featured on Huffington Post, but also made it on to Intent and Yahoo, before eventually appearing in the ‘trending articles’ on many a Facebook feed.

I should first make it clear that I respectfully disagree with Kumar’s deductions. Her post was problematic for two reasons:

1. It’s Misdirected

There is clearly no shortage of admiration or respect between Beyonce and the Obama family. During Barack Obama’s original presidential campaign in 2008, Beyonce repeatedly and publicly proclaimed her avid support.

She went on to gush about Michelle Obama, hailing her as “the ULTIMATE example of a truly strong African American woman.” Unsurprisingly, Beyonce was invited to perform at the president’s inaugural ball, and the Obama-Knowles alliance has been going strong ever since.

I think it’s safe to say that Michelle and her kids know Beyonce Knowles a little better than Ms. Kumar does. After the unwavering encouragement, and the success of Obama’s campaign, to ask Michelle not to allow her children to look up to a supportive and adoring family friend is presumptuous. To ask her not to let them admire a confident, independently successful woman who uses her prominence to passionately promote healthy body image for young women? That’s bizarre.

More to the point; Kumar’s problem isn’t even with Michelle Obama. It’s with Beyonce, her stylist, and, erm... sex traffickers.

2. It’s Slut Shaming

“Beyonce, performing in sheer body suits, nipples displayed, mouth open, high heels and sheer tights, shaking her butt on stage, can no longer be held by world leaders as an icon of female success.”

When I read the above passage, all I could hear was 30 Rock’s Kenneth earnestly professing that “everyone knows the only thing we should be ashamed of is our bodies.”

Look at that shame!

Under the guise of empowerment, Rakhi Kumar breaks a fundamental rule of female solidarity; absolutely no slut shaming. To paraphrase Tina Fey in Mean Girls, we have got to stop calling each other sluts and whores; it just makes it okay for guys to call us sluts and whores. Furthermore, I can’t shake the impression that Kumar is worried Beyonce will have our sisters and daughters sashaying down the road in glittering lingerie, leaving them open to attack from sexual predators. And to be fair, I get impression because that’s exactly what Kumar is getting at:

“Understand that in an obscene act of manipulation by the young men who will pimp them, for a very short amount of time - maybe only for a half an hour in one of their early encounters - young girls who are trafficked do actually get to taste the experience that they have identified as ultimate feminine success: they get given hot pants or body suits like the one Beyonce's dancing in, they dance for men who find them alluring, and for a very short time, these very young girls are convinced that they've made it - only to be assaulted, abused, and sometimes murdered in the years ahead, by the men who they thought wanted them.”

I find it astounding that Kumar can attempt to hold Beyonce responsible for the crimes of human traffickers. The argument is disturbingly similar, in my opinion, to the controversial remark by Constable Michael Sanguinetti back in 2011. Speaking at a crime prevention conference at York University, Sanguinetti advised that “women should avoid dressing like sluts in order not to be victimized.”

What Kumar is saying is this; Beyonce should not encourage girls to dress provocatively lest they should attract the eye of a perverted deviant. 

My question is this; Is warning women not to provoke rape and attack the only course of prevention against sexual crime?

Couldn’t we warn men not to rape and attack women?

I found the Open Letter to Michelle Obama tasteless and misguided, and I’m not sure why I found it labelled under ‘parenting’. Kumar advises a mother to steer her children away from a potential role model on the basis that she dares to embrace her body in a world where female sexuality is often exploited.  It’s a blatant and indignant attack on perceived wantonness, not a gem of a parenting tip.

Furthermore, if Michelle’s kids are indeed listening to what Beyonce has to say, the Obama’s have nothing to worry about.

Beyonce's own 'Open Letter to Michelle Obama'

"Irish"

I recently read an article on Cracked about offensive Irish stereotypes. And by recently, I mean two months ago; it was a Paddy’s day piece. The author, Luke McKinney, expressed mild irritation at the ways St. Patrick’s Day is celebrated outside of our little Isle. Occasionally, I read or watch something that really sticks with me, and this was one of those cases. After reading McKinney’s piece, the topic of National identity seemed to pop up everywhere! Call me slow, but it’s only really clarified with me of late how widely held some of these stereotypes are. 

After taking a college module on the Irish film industry, I’ve begun to think of this issue as “The Quiet Man Dilemma”. For those of you not familiar with The Quiet Man, it was one of the first films that portrayed any sort of representation of Ireland, and being a Hollywood film, it enjoyed a lot of exposure so its depiction of us really stuck. The film presented Ireland as a whimsical, magical land whose natives were in awe of modernity, but had no real need for it. And sure, this was sixty years ago, but the sickener is; this patronizing representation is still bloody dominant today!

Much as I love Amy Adams (she’s adorable), Leap Year has to be one of the most offensive movies I’ve ever half-watched. Adams plays Anna, a modern American woman who travels to Ireland to propose to her boyfriend, because (sigh) “Ancient Irish folklore” dictates that if you propose to a man on February 29^th, he must accept. Ireland is more or less portrayed as one long, winding country road, and of course, a dingy little pub. Oh, and everyone wears these hats:

Then there’s the less recent absurdity of Heroes Season 2. The first episode closes in Cork, where Milo Ventimiglia is terrorized by several burly American men, who I genuinely didn’t realise were supposed to be Irish until one of them uttered the word “boyo”. I’m pretty sure I actually facepalmed at this point.

Most recently, Glee introduced the Irish exchange student Rory Flanagan. In the first episode alone, he masquerades as a leprechaun, gushes over the Land of the Free, and sings “It’s Not Easy Being Green”. He also wears green in every single scene. In fact the first outfit we see him in is a green bowler hat, suspenders (no, not the sexy kind), and a green shirt. He’s pretty obviously dressed up to look like a leprechaun.

Just in case you didn’t get that he was Irish. Now, what really gets to me is that Ryan Murphy is of Irish heritage. And not the usual American claim to Irishness (it’s a word!). I don’t mean he has a great great great uncle called Paddy O’Reilly. Murphy actually grew up in your typical Catholic Irish family. He probably even has the fear of God put into him at the sight of a wooden spoon, so why would he write his first Irish character as an effing Leprechaun?

Now, this is really just a therapeutic rant. I can’t actually offer up any real explanation as to what being Irish really means. This probably isn’t the best moment to try to explore it anyway, because let’s face it; this is a terrible time to be Irish. I will, however, offer up some recommendations of a few movies that portray us Irish as real, normal people:

Kisses – A very sweet movie about two urban children who spend a rough night together in Dublin city.

Savage – As its title suggests, this is a violent look at gang culture and masculinity. Very in-yer-face, very gory, and very well done.

Cowboys and Angels – A coming of age film about a green twenty-something who moves to Limerick city and finds himself confronted with a culture of drugs and frivolity.

Adam and Paul – While I haven’t seen this yet, admitting so to my countrymen has always resulted in exasperated groans, so I’m fairly certain it deserves a place on this list. From what I’m told, this is a sweet but sad film with a uniquely Irish humour that explores the growing drug culture in Dublin.

Update: While proof-reading this post, I asked my boyfriend what characteristics he associated with being Irish. “Nothing.” He replied. “I don’t like to generalize.” Then, after a few moments: “I think Irish people are too into brand names.”

Would explain why we’re broke, I suppose. But on a lighter note, here’s 200 Reasons Not to Leave Dublin. Number 60 is a personal favourite, because on the night of my 19^th birthday, I was driven home by this man. 
Oh, Dublin.