The subjection to online abuse of female writer sorts is something that has, of late, been widely discussed. The press appear to perceive it as a non-issue, even though there resides a catalogue of women who’ve experienced this kind of backlash, ranging from the latently patronising to intimidating and violent threats. But a new twist came when Nick Cohen wrote an article defending writers Laurie Penny, Polly Toynbee and Melanie Phillips – and condemning the vitriol that they in particular experience when passing comment in the mainstream press. His bone of contention is not that any of these women face criticism; that’s a given if you make known your judgement on highly emotive issues. What he does have a problem with, however, is that these journalists encounter very personal, sexually abrasive and downright scary comments because they are women, and that these comments specifically target their womanhood. He even goes as far as to blame the “complicity of newspaper managers” whom he believes do very little to deter this type of victimisation and actively “demean” their female staff.

Seems a commendable sentiment, does it not?

The problem then became that he was zealously praised for bringing these virtual misogynistic tirades to light, despite the fact that female bloggers have been persistently trying to get their mistreatment taken seriously. Feminists are angry that Cohen rode in on his horse, waving his gallant testimony, rescuing the damsels and making this concern valid, like it wasn’t already. Nicky Woolf, another New Statesman voice, wrote a counter piece claiming that “male supporters of women’s rights risk looking like ‘white knights’” and subsequently raised the question: can a man ever really call himself a feminist? There followed a lot of dictionary definitions of feminism and references to the multifarious tapestry that is social theory.

Photo: Rachel Strohm (http://www.flickr.com/photos/rachelstrohm/)

There are those who believe men cannot identify themselves as feminists. End of. The argument being that unless you relentlessly suffer under patriarchy, you can’t comprehend the impact it has on your very existence. I do appreciate this school of thought, and it’s used for many other social prejudices, including racism. The reason I don’t agree with it though, is twofold; firstly I think genuine empathy is just as valuable as shared experience, because it demonstrates a wider acceptance of the goals you’re trying to achieve. If you only encourage your philosophy within the tight constraints of those whom it will inherently appeal to, you’re not going to change anything. It’s like running an ideological bakery; trying to sell cakes to a cake lover is easy, trying to sell cakes to a diabetic is… well, it’s dangerous, but you catch my drift.

My other reasoning is that, as my crudest understanding of feminism is the pursuit of equal rights, refusing to call men feminists on the basis of their gender is hypocritical, and the very antithesis of equality. Throwing inter-defined phrases like ‘pro-feminist’ or ‘feminist sympathiser’ around creates a ‘them’ and ‘us’ mindset. By resorting to the dissection of semantics, you risk alienating someone who wanted to identify with you – and you, with a desire for black and white delineation, then reject them. Men already suffer prejudice if they express any distaste for hegemonic masculinity; it’s difficult to publically denounce sexism without being seen as ‘girly’ somehow. I think it’s widely believed that until traditional ideas about masculinity are rewritten so that’s it ‘normal’ to feel sensitivity to violence and rape, feminism will fail to accrue male mass appeal. I’m sure that lots of men don’t give a flying fudge what their peers call them, but ignorance to the implications of old fashioned gender roles for men is unforgivable. Separate sphere-ism is something that still plagues society, for all genders.

I remember reading a piece by Cath Elliot a couple of years back which looked at this debate. Her most valuable observation is about fragmentation; she speaks of the need to ideologically confine ourselves to very specific labels which can ultimately lead to the splintering of women’s’ groups. She says that the conflict as to what extent men can be included in feminist activism is just another manifestation of that; another thing that can’t be agreed upon and risks hindering progress. I’m not sure how far I agree with this, but it does raise an interesting point about how feminism treats its supporters. It sometimes looks like the remnants of a Pankhurst vs Fawcett debacle, which neglects to realise that ultimately, we all want the same thing. But I think this is probably the case for lots of groups seeking social reform. The political is personal, and personal politics aren’t easy to share.

It translates into pop culture too. A current example of the divide is exhibited in criticisms of Stieg Larsson. The Hollywood revision of The Girl With The Dragoon Tattoo has, yet again, stirred up misgivings about Larsson’s depictions of misogyny in the Millennium Series. I too, feel uncomfortable with the sexed-up sexual violence displayed onscreen, but is it really fair to question the author’s motives? It’s common knowledge that the books were inspired by a childhood trauma, when Larsson witnessed the gang rape of a local girl. And all the evidence suggests that as a consequence, he genuinely abhorred violence against women. He was a socialist activist, founding the Swedish Expo Foundation which sought to expose and end extreme right and white supremacist activity. He was very vocal about his feelings on inequality. So why does it appear so difficult for us to read the message with the spirit in which it was intended? Would we feel the same discomfort towards the franchise if the creator was a woman? If the writing had been female, maybe it would have been viewed as harrowing instead of graphic. But whatever your thoughts on the series, you have to pay credit where credit’s due. Larsson has helped bring misogyny to the forefront of public debate, the volumes have sold 65 million copies worldwide, and the films are huge too. Regardless if it appeals to one’s personal taste, surely the feminist community should embrace the chance to discuss misogyny within a contemporary and popular context?

I suppose for me, my perception of men and feminism is built around my own heroes. My Dad, for one, always instilled a sense of ‘you are not a girl, you’re a person’ in both me and my sister, and that was vital to my understanding of sexism, misogyny and the injustices I felt later on. It’s not because he identifies himself as a feminist, mind – he has no socio-political interest whatsoever. It was simply that, as his children, he wanted to pass on his interests to us, and the fact that we were girls and some of his pastimes were less than feminine was irrelevant. His biggest passions were music and film, and I owe my love of both to him. I was listening to Dire Straits when most girls my age had little in the way of audio knowledge other than the theme tune to Rosie and Jim. He made us have a crack at everything; fishing, sailing, karate. We were taught to use tools. Although I’d like to think my thoughts on egalitarianism are a little more sophisticated than they were as a kid, I do owe my unwavering faith in fundamental parity to the men in my life, as well as the women. So I feel a personal obligation to ensure that men and women are credited and treated fairly.

I do get it. We don’t want to rely on men to make feminism credible – I suppose the fear is that many thoughtful discussions aren’t ‘validated’ until they’re echoed in a male voice, meaning that the content of the message is only getting through via a diluted medium. But to split hairs over whether or not a man calls himself a feminist is flouting the nature of what we’re all about. After all, what’s in a name?

• Becky Shepherd meanders around Essex looking for shellacs, toot or beer. She’s an aspiring novelist, but until someone’s mad enough to publish her efforts, you can ‘ave a butchers at her blog, All Quiet On The Wench Front, where she’s busy putting the world to rights one parody at a time. She also scribbles for The Indie Pedant and on Twitter: @Becky_Shep.

I think it’s BRILLIANT.

Sarah C lent me How To Be A Woman, Caitlin Moran’s recent feminism handbook/memoir, and I expected to like it. I follow Moran on twitter where she’s always deeply funny, and I thought this would be an enjoyable read even if it’s just her personal take on the issues. What surprised me is how incredibly effective the book is – and how it does some things which are amazing from a male point of view.

Of course, cis male points of view aren’t automatically important in feminism (with some arguing that they have no place in it at all). When it comes to deciding what women want their future to be, and what they feel is harmful or unacceptable to that, men don’t really need to be part of the process. And most male feminists that I know understand that.

However, when it comes to implementing feminism against the status quo of patriarchal bullshit, when women are fighting for their rights from one direction it helps if men are on board too. If men feel threatened by coming changes, they’re more likely to do the kind of heinous, disgusting, and frequently violent things that we see thrown back at women who challenge anything the patriarchy is currently comfortable with.

Which is why I think that Caitlin Moran’s book should be compulsory reading for boys.

Photo of Caitlin Moran by Chris Floyd, which won August's "Portrait of the month" at the National Portrait Gallery. Source: http://www.npg.org.uk/

Moran does two things which are absolutely crucial. She actively calls bullshit on the many forms of misogyny which have somehow become acceptable in society, and then she laughs at them.

Calling bullshit is not a small thing. It takes incredible strength to say “no” to Hollywood, magazines, posters, tv and the expectations of your friends, family, colleagues and boss. By being brutally honest about becoming a woman – periods, body hair, boobs, everything about a teenager’s brain – she humanises it and makes it possible to go against expectations. Of COURSE the idea that every single woman needs a Brazilian shave by default is stupid bullshit. Step back a moment and compare it to real life as she does, and it becomes easy to laugh… and more importantly to finish laughing and shout HELL NO.

Boys will read this. They want to know what girls think, and what the changes happening to girls’ bodies and minds are actually like. The book is full of comedy but also danger, which keeps it exciting and holds your attention. I’m always going on about how pop culture is great because it engages people and slips messages past them while they’re having fun – this does exactly that, really well.

Importantly, when talking to the male side of the equation, it also demystifies. Male readers can look at the stupidity of some conventions, see what the reality is for women and it will become easier for them to realise where the bullshit lies.

Moran speaks directly to men in the book as well as women. After telling female readers to say the words “I am a feminist” out loud, possibly while standing on a chair (“Say it. SAY IT. SAY IT NOW! Because if you can’t, you’re basically bending over saying ‘Kick my arse and take my vote, please, the patriarchy.’“) she adds this:

“And do not think you shouldn’t be standing on that chair, shouting ‘I AM A FEMINIST!’ if you are a boy. A male feminist is one of the most glorious end-products of evolution. A male feminist should ABSOLUTELY be on the chair – so we ladies may all toast you, in champagne, before coveting your body wildly.”

Note to men: this is relatively true. Identifying as a feminist in actions as well as words (unless you’re a lying weasel who is just doing it to get into their knickers) will by itself put you quite far into the “not a raging asshole” category. That’s hot. I’m just saying.

I agree with Sarah on the minor disappointments. The author’s use of “retard” on page 5 really jars and stands out, just plain doesn’t work, and isn’t okay. Where Sarah found it limiting that the events are focused only on Moran’s personal experiences, though, I didn’t think this mattered as much to the message. Where Caitlin says she doesn’t feel that the word “boobs” really describes any part of her body (and “breasts” is worse), I know some women who feel comfortable with that word – but her final decision doesn’t seem as crucial as long as the reader is made aware that girls face the situation of having to find the right words for themselves. Making everyone ask themselves the question means the answer she chooses almost doesn’t matter.

There are plenty of universal truths in there. The chapter where she reveals how the word “fat” has basically become weaponised to a greater degree than previous nuclear-level playground insults, and gives examples, all rings totally true. The stories of her 16-year-old self veer between amusing and devastating, but it just helps the reader identify with the general problem. Hell, it made *me* identify with it, when my 16-year-old self was dangerously underweight, gangly, six-foot and male.

And that’s the secret. The reason I’m excited about this book is that it’s the first one I think will be hugely effective, to women but especially to the average man. There are many modes of communication which just don’t work: language is important, but I think we can frequently become so removed from daily discourse in our attempts to avoid discriminatory words that we lose the audience entirely. Caitlin Moran will change male attitudes a million times more powerfully than, say, a paper by feminist academics which would only be read by feminist academics, containing newly invented language that boys barely understand and have not been convinced they need.

You can tell whether some misogynistic societal pressure is being exerted on women by calmly enquiring, “And are the *men* doing this, as well?” If they aren’t, chances are you’re dealing with what we strident feminists refer to as “some total fucking bullshit”.

How to be a woman engages the reader with great humour and truth, says things of interest, and is entertaining enough to do the pop-culture stealth-feminism thing. The early reaction from feminists was “This is an important book!”, but the opinions then swayed back and forth a bit afterwards. I think “important” is precisely the right word, because it’s going to work.

Teenage boys! Want to know about teenage girls? Read this book. Men! Want to read something that’s genuinely hilarious and interesting, even if you don’t ‘do’ feminism? Read this book. It’s angry without being exclusionary, very funny, very honest, and has a real shot at inspiring a new generation to become feminists.

Top marks, Moran.