Getting privileged feminism right

I am a white middle-class cis woman and a feminist. I’m well aware that makes me a privileged feminist. Sometimes I’m probably not the best feminist. That’s not because I’m privileged per se, but because I’m still working out how exactly to do feminism.

I always thought feminism was about gender roles, the media’s portrayal of women, our fixation on female beauty, representation in politics, law, sports and so on, chivalry, double standards relating to female and male promiscuity, rape, domestic violence and (positive) discrimination in the workplace. And because of who I am, I naturally tended to consider these issues as they relate to white cis women in the West.

These days, I’m beginning to see how intersectional feminism is crucial. There are as many different kinds of feminist as there are types of woman, and every single person has both a valuable story to tell and a duty to learn from each other. As Myriam Francois-Cerrah, also a white middle-class cis woman, posited in a speech she gave at Oxford Union on February 12 about how feminism has been hijacked by white middle-class women: “race, class and gender are critical to feminist discussions.”

I try to make a concerted effort to listen to and read about the challenges, fears and dreams faced by women from other backgrounds. It isn’t always smooth sailing.

I once asked a Lebanese woman what she thought of Hezbollah. Our only common language was German, and my German is only intermediate. I also felt self-conscious because my male friend, a Palestinian, was listening in. I realized immediately after asking the question that it was a dumb move, because she didn’t look at all comfortable.

“Don’t ask that!” my male friend hissed. I presumed it was because I was asking her to vocalize an opinion on a sensitive topic, simultaneously associating her with one of the most negative aspects of her country—a bit like judgmentally jumping down an American’s throat about police brutality and racism.

To my surprise, though, he added, “Arab women don’t get involved in politics.”

But sure they do, I thought. Sethrida Geagea, for example, is both a woman and a member of parliament in Lebanon. Palestinian feminist and human rights activist Khalida Jarrar is a member of the Palestinian Legislative Council. Haneen Zoabi is a Palestinian citizen of Israel and a member of the Knesset representing Balad, an Israeli Arab party. I follow many women based in the Middle East on Twitter, who are both Arab and highly engaged in politics and the world around them.

I was embarrassed all the same. The Lebanese woman really didn’t want to answer; she said she didn’t have anything to say on that topic. I was sure it was incorrect to say Arab women don’t get involved in politics, but I also realized that my question was completely insensitive. I really hope to meet her again some day to ask her instead about her faith and about living in the West as a Muslim woman. The best I can hope for is to learn something from this humbling experience. Like the importance of leaving accusatory questions at the door and focusing on open dialogue.

There is so much to think and talk about right now in terms of feminism and inequality. Why is it that three Muslim 15-year-old girls are chastised for being groomed by ISIS when we sympathize with white victims of child abuse? What is it like to be a Muslim woman in Europe? How come black and brown lives considered less valuable than white lives according to mainstream media trends and our legal systems in the West? Why do the privileged often fear the underprivileged? Why do cis and transgender women (and other polarized groups) sometimes seem to treat each other as the enemy?

All kinds of feminism boil down to the belief in political, economic and social equality between the sexes. What feminists want deep down—equality for women and men—is a shared desire. Exactly how that equality should look, where we can source our power from or what we will do to achieve this might not be things we can agree on, but we can learn from each other’s realities if we give ourselves the chance.

Everyone has something to add to feminist discussions. It is dangerous and damaging to view one person’s feminism as less worthy than another’s because it differs from a prescribed “ideal” notion of feminism, or because a person comes from a certain socioeconomic background. I agree with Myriam’s Oxford Union speech, almost in its entirety. I just think it’s crucial that white, middle-class women are encouraged to open their minds rather than derided for not checking their privilege. No suffering is less relevant, no struggle less legitimate. Attempting to silence any woman goes against what it really means to be a feminist: promoting equality of all voices, and not by hampering the privileged but by empowering everyone.

Myriam, a Muslim convert, says she is happy if her socioeconomic standing helps amplify her message, and also argued that her feminism isn’t “white” because she doesn’t identify with “the dominant power relations which continue to subjugate people of color to a second class status and relegate women of color specifically to the bottom of the heap.”

That’s the truth right there, and as feminists we should definitely be looking at the link between white supremacy and male hegemony. Promoting equality for women, in my opinion, necessitates understanding what the world order contributes to the feminist struggle everywhere. This is not just about the governments in Egypt, Saudi Arabia and so forth, and what they do or don’t do to oppress women. It is not just about how the male population subjugates women. It is also about Western dominance, intervention and war.

Living in the West and voting in elections, I am normalizing, and passively supporting, the actions of my government by default. Yes, I sign petitions, buy second hand clothing, follow the news, discuss issues and write. I also want to go and volunteer in Lebanese refugee camps and the West Bank. I often wonder how much of a difference I can make. But if I can share ideas, touch lives, stand in solidarity and see survival against all odds, as well as strength and positivity through darkness, I know I will have achieved something that’s invaluable.

Seeing women in Nigeria, Morocco, Egypt and so forth as damsels in desperate need of Western assistance, something Myriam calls the “white savior complex,” is not only patronizing. It completely misses the point. I am under no illusion that I am a hero. I want to work in camps and schools as much for my own personal development and understanding as out of compassion and empathy. I want to learn more about the lives of other women who are ostensibly different to me but are actually, as Myriam puts it, “true equals in a shared struggle.”

White culture is the dominant feminist narrative but it is clearly not all about us. We may well be part of the problem for other women and that’s something we need to recognise. Some Moroccan women, according to Myriam’s findings, reject the term “feminism” as “another form of cultural imperialism designed to alienate native women from the real source of their power” — their own culture.

There is a strong tendency to talk about the poor and squalid state of poverty and human rights abuses in some countries in the Middle East, Asia and Africa as something we can change via Western democracy. Indeed, there’s a lot to be concerned about: female genital mutilation in 29 different countries, capital punishment for adultery, plus many of the same issues we face in the West, on a larger scale, such as rape, sexual assault and underrepresentation in politics and other areas. In the last decade, the Western coalition trying to bring “democracy” to the Middle East and surrounding areas — if we can really believe that is what was being attempted — has failed. Western meddling and the global war on terror are arguably nothing more than ways to control populations and resources and propagate white (and wealthy and male) hegemony. Yes, there is a need for change, but it will not come about by putting white middle-class women at the top of the feminist hierarchy. This just perpetuates the types of inequalities feminism is here to quash. It’s essential to realize the responsibility of the privileged to empower, not save or silence, the underprivileged.

I don’t profess to know all the answers; I just promise to continue learning about and questioning everything. If the feminist narrative currently belongs to white, middle-class women, I take it upon myself to listen and understand what other women have to say as well as adding my own input to the mix.

The most crucial thing to remember is that everyone deserves to be heard; no one should be rendered voiceless, whatever their background or opinions. This includes those we don’t necessarily agree with, can’t immediately relate to or aren’t familiar with.

Header image credit: Hayley Pearce