Unfair Feminist Criticism: What It Looks Like & How To Respond (Part Three/Three)
Teyah Nichole
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This is the third and final installment in my unfair feminist criticism series. In it, I delve into the third most common criticism I get about my feminism, why it’s unfair, and how I respond to people who try and use it against me.
Be sure to check out part one and part two, where I go into unfair feminist criticism examples:
One: “If you’re a feminist woman who dates men, you should go dutch. Otherwise, you’re being unfair!”
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Two: “Women should do more to include men in feminism! Men shouldn’t be made to feel as if they’re not included: they benefit from a more feminist world as well!”
What Is “Unfair” Feminist Criticism?
In part one, I defined unfair feminist criticism as:
“Criticism rooted in thinking that feminism is a uniform doctrine that lacks nuance, variety, and multifacetedness. It is characterized by positions that find fault in a racialized woman’s feminist beliefs or views unsupported by empirical evidence and/or any actual, unselfish commitment to feminist politics or priorities as a whole.
When you’re a newbie feminist, spotting this type of behavior isn’t as easy. When you’re new to something and have less experience in the space, it’s common to need time to work around what feminism means and looks like. The more intersections you operate within (i.e. race, ethnicity, class, etc.), the more involved this process becomes.
As a way to both help my fellow newbie feminists and keep a record of where I’m at in my own feminist journey, I’ve decided to make a series about the common feminist criticisms I receive as a racialized woman and why I think they’re unfair and completely uninformed by the material realities of what racialized women go through and deal with regularly.
Hopefully, this post can be an eye-opener for those who identify as feminists but struggle with the inevitable complications that arise when putting it into practice.”
Unfair Feminist Criticism Example #3:
“Racialized, Trans, and other marginalized women shouldn’t want/need feminist spaces that are just for them. It creates unnecessary division between feminists and that is hurtful to the overall feminist agenda!”
How I Respond:
While in part two, I said that my second-most common unfair feminist criticism was the most annoying, I think this one is the most hurtful and damaging. Since becoming a feminist, I’ve always supported the idea of marginalized women-identifying people having their own spaces to express themselves, their concerns, and their goals within the broader feminist movement.
At the beginning of my feminist journey, I immediately sought out spaces solely for other fellow black feminists. I was desperate to connect to women like me who understood what I was going through and could help me navigate my intersection as a woman and black person. I encouraged other feminist women friends of different races or marginalized intersections (i.e., low-income, queer, etc.) to do the same thing.
Such fact meant that it was shocking to me when women, particularly cishet white ones, were adamant these desires were harmful to the feminist agenda. These sentiments were often a follow-up to an overall reaction that my approach to feminism wasn’t focused enough on “solidarity” and was too focused on “differences” between women, thus making my feminism unproductive in the fight for gender equality.
I have many issues with this position. First, this type of unfair feminist criticism is entirely uninformed by the complexities of power, identity, and representation that are essential to acknowledge within a large, diverse group of women-identifying people. Women-identifying people are among the most prominent global demographics, making it one of the most heterogeneous.
“Safe spaces within feminism allow marginalized women-identifying people an opportunity to have productive, supportive areas where they can discuss what feminism means and doesn’t mean to them without the fear and disregard for their right to humanity that they face in everyday life.”
Therefore, women-identifying people are not coming into the feminist movement with universal experiences, perceptions, or threats to their well-being and humanity. Trans women, for instance, face extraordinary amounts of disrespect and distrust from cishet feminists across class, race, and ethnicities. “TERFs” (i.e. cis feminist women perpetuating this type of exclusion) and their refusal to ally with trans women have contributed to an even more aggressive cis-normativity in many feminist spaces.
As a result, general feminist spaces, regardless of intention, are often places of violence toward trans women. Trans women often enter non-specific feminist spaces feeling like they need to have their guard up or shouldn’t show up in their complete authenticity. This is where the concept of safe spaces comes into play.
Safe spaces within feminism allow marginalized women-identifying people an opportunity to have productive, supportive areas where they can discuss what feminism means and doesn’t mean to them without the fear and disregard for their right to humanity that they face in everyday life.
Trans women are not the only women who’ve benefited from safe spaces. Queer, black, indigenous, Muslim, sex-working and low-income women have often opted for identity-specific spaces throughout feminist history due to the movement’s tendency to favor and frame issues of gender within a Eurocentric, cishet, middle/upper-class lens.
Bigotry and oppressive views are not tolerated in safe spaces, allowing marginalized women to have proactive conversations and debates about feminism that will move the movement forward writ large. The work of now-revered feminists such as Bell Hooks, Angela Davis, and Kimberlee Krenshaw may not have been done if safe spaces for black women-feminists to think and collaborate weren’t created.
Although focused on black feminism, their concepts of the prison-industrial complex, education as the practice of freedom, and intersectionality have propelled conversations about gender-based justice and liberation forward to benefit all marginalized people regardless of identity.
Along with this point, another reason why I find the criticism that marginalized women aren’t entitled to safe spaces of collaboration and community within the broader feminist movement is its underlying assumption that feminist solidarity means a lack of difference and conflict.
When you search the word “solidarity” in the English dictionary, it’s defined as:
unity or agreement of feeling or action, especially among individuals with a common interest; mutual support within a group.
This unity or agreement doesn’t have to mean all women-identifying feminists must think and feel precisely the same all the time. Instead, it can mean we all unify and agree on mutual respect for the diversity of experiences, needs, and thus priorities among women within the wider feminist movement.
Recognizing differences may lead to conflict, which, different to popular belief, is a good thing as it leads to necessary dialogue. Anyone would tell you that the healthiest of relationships aren’t defined by an absence of conflict but by a presence of mutual respect and willingness to communicate effectively.
As argued by Melissa Gira Grant, “internal conflict fuels feminism”, as the personal narratives defined by experiences which created their feminism and thus difference come to the forefront. This allows the nuances of women-identifying people and their needs to be explicitly seen and gives us all opportunities to scrutinize our own beliefs and internalized biases.
