Perils of the modern arranged marriage process

Please note that the following reflects my personal experience and may not reflect the experiences of others engaged in the process.

As a practicing Muslim woman, there are two tenets of my faith that have colored my life: (1) a Muslim woman must not have sex before marriage, and (2) a Muslim woman must marry a Muslim man.

Based on these tenets, entrepreneur Shahzad Younas, aptly stated that "[M]uslims don't date, we marry." The question then becomes how we should get married without dating. There are three common avenues to meet one's spouse: (1) an affinity group in college, (2) Muslim-geared dating apps, and (3) arranged marriage.

Affinity groups (e.g., Muslim Student Association and Pakistani Student Association) not only served as inclusive, safe spaces for like-minded people, but served as hubs to meet a large number of other “eligible” Muslim Americans. Most of my friends have found their spouses in affinity groups and have gotten married by the time they graduate college. When I was a college student, law school was my dream—not marriage. To avoid the prospect of marriage ruining my academic ambitions, I dodged joining or affiliating myself with any kind of affinity group on campus. Because affinity groups were out of the question—and I was embarrassed to get on a dating app—my only other viable option was to opt for an arranged marriage.

Modern-day arranged marriages are very different from stereotypical arranged marriages where one (or both) parties were forced to partake in the marriage. I liken modern day arranged marriage, at least in the Pakistani-American community, to a very public Tinder arrangement. Basically, my “profile” comprises of my biodata which includes my name, age, height, education, parent’s education, and "profile pictures".

My biodata is given to a matchmaker in my community who later distributes it to matchmakers throughout the United States. This matchmaker, our “network”, serves as an intermediary between eligible bachelors and bachelorettes. The matchmakers assess my biodata and distribute it to men whom they think I would make a good fit for. They also assess and send me the biodatas of men whom they think would make a good fit for me.

If I liked someone, I would tell my parents I am interested in pursuing this relationship (“rishta”). That would be my version of “swiping right”. If I did not like someone, I would tell my parents I am not interested in pursuing this rishta ("swiping left"). The men went through the same process. If we both swiped right, we would meet each other and determine if we had a spark.

This process has been described as being “like dating fully endorsed by our families . . . there are no secrets or hiding.” During this entire process, I would have a say in whom I chose to marry. While the freedom of choice was exciting, the process has had a dark side in my experience. Almost every single man who received my biodata has “swiped left”.

My mom reached out to the matchmaker to ask why people were continuously swiping left. The matchmaker bluntly told her the following reasons for the continuous rejection: I was too fat, too old, too short, too dark, and too educated.

The ideal Pakistani mate would only have a college education, be fair-skinned, have long lustrous hair, and have the body measurements of a Victoria's Secret model. On top of these qualities, the woman needs to be seen as someone who would make a good housewife in terms of cooking, cleaning, and childrearing (e.g., June Cleaver). For women who fit the ideal Pakistani mate, the process has been empowering. It is the exact opposite for women who don’t tick one of these boxes—and I don’t tick any of these boxes.

I started this process when I was twenty years old, and I will twenty-five in June. To say this process has been debilitating is an understatement. Every ounce of professional confidence and growth during law school was crushed in my personal life because I did not fit the Pakistani ideal. I became increasingly anxious, depressed, and developed a sense of self-hatred.

Social cues from my cultural community told me to deprioritize my career ambition and focus on molding myself into the ideal Pakistani mate. This process feeds into the separate spheres ideology where women are expected to be caretakers and homemakers with the bodies of Victoria’s Secret models. I feel like the unrealistic expectations of the men (and their mothers) reflects how they view women: objects who serve a purpose.

I never wanted marriage to be an “accomplishment” I tick off. I grew up loving “love” and believed that form of intimacy and companionship can enrich someone’s life. I wanted marriage to be the culmination of a journey full of love and commitment. While every rejection may make me question my self-worth, in the long run, I know that men who choose women off of their ability to serve—rather than their ability to live their lives to their fullest extent—are not the right men for me.

In an attempt to add personality to my biodata, I wrote out a rishta "cover letter". Below is a short snippet from that letter:

As a woman, I have heard that I can have a family or a career. While I would love to have my own family one day, but I do not believe I have to give up my life’s work to have one. I want to enter into a strong partnership where we both support each other’s goals and dream . . . . If you are curious about my complexion, weight, or height, I do not think we would have a future together.

While my mother hasn't been convinced to attach this letter to my biodata, it was empowering to write because it reminded me that I am more than who I am on paper—and that has made all the difference.

Confessions of a feminist promo girl

While reading through the myriad of Spring 2019 feminist legal theory blog posts, I noticed a trend among many: A confession to being a bad feminist. Whether it was an admission to watching The Bachelor or participating in cultural, sexist traditions or religiously watching Keeping Up with the Kardashians, each author questioned their feminist identity.

After watching Roxane Gay’s Ted Talk on her “bad feminist” ways, I couldn’t help but to think of my own. So yes, I too confess: I am a bad feminist.

How? I absolutely capitalize on my femininity every weekend to help pay my way through law school.

As we all know, law school costs are an arm and a leg, and then some. To help pay for my living expenses, I work as a “promo girl” on the weekends. I essentially do promotional marketing, as an independent contractor, on behalf of marketing companies. Their clients are big alcohol brands like Bud Light, Stella Artois, Jim Beam, Maker’s Mark, Hornitos, Effen Vodka, and Courvoisier cognac just to name a few. I go wherever they send me - clubs, bars, restaurants, golf courses, or professional sports games - to provide complimentary alcohol samples, educate consumers on the brand, and most importantly, push sales. Even though I do not receive a commission, high sales equals job security.

The work itself is minimal. We simply get paid to talk to consumers and the shifts are just 4-5 hours long. I make my own schedule, so if I choose not to work during reading period, my employer is okay with that. Best part is the pay. If I work through the weekend, I can pocket anywhere between $500-800, which contributes to my monthly bills and permits me to financially assist family when needed. Sounds pretty nice, right?

Well let me explain the reality of it. Consumers see us in a different light. They treat us in ways they normally wouldn’t treat us if we were out of uniform. For instance, I’ve had consumers rub my back, touch my waist, and walk up and hug me out of nowhere. I’ve had consumers inappropriately comment on my body and tell me creepy things like, “I’ll buy anything from you looking like that.” I’ve even had a club owner tell me, “Didn’t your dad tell you to never give anything away for free?” He thought it was funny.

If you work in the industry, you know the unwanted touching, objectification, and inappropriate, sexual comments come with the territory. So generally, women learn to smile, laugh, and then turn to roll their eyes out of “professionalism.” However, I’ve never been one to play it off. I look at them with the “Seriously?” stare or I move so they stop touching me.

Even though that's my way of fighting the patriarchy in this field, I feel like I should do more, especially as a feminist. I’m already letting my fellow feminists down my conforming to the “promo girl” stereotypes and capitalizing on it. Further, I’m moving the movement backwards by being a part of an industry that normalizes the objectification of women, minimizing us as a whole. So the least I can do is say something or move their hand, and not feel bad about it.

I think there are two things in play here: 1) the power dynamic; and 2) who's responsible for educating the obnoxious consumers?

Even though our marketing companies say they do not tolerate sexual harassment and claim they want all promo girls to work in a safe and comfortable environment, none of us dare to report the things we endure for job security purposes. Many of us keep our mouths shut because the business reports back to our big company client, and if the business speaks highly of us, we will get booked more often. However, if we make waves at a business and that information flows up the ladder, we risk losing work.

To maintain steady employment, and thus pay our bills, we put up with the behavior. So like many women in other professions, there’s an embedded power dynamic that must be overcome to address the issue. We also need our employers to have our backs, and mean it.

Maybe then we will speak up without the fear of retaliation. But even if that were the case, should the onus really be on us? We already have to deal with the behavior, and now we have to treat it? But if not us, who is going to educate these people? You would think with all the public discourse on sexual harassment, consumers would treat us with respect, regardless of what we're wearing or doing, but I see from personal experience, we still have a long way to go.

So yes, I am a bad feminist on the weekends to make ends meet, but thanks to feminism, I have the freedom to choose to study law during the week and do promos on the weekends to pay for it. Additionally, thanks to this course, I’ve been empowered to speak up and educate the obnoxious hereon out…and that’s a promise to my feminist comrades, good and bad alike. 

The daily reality of street harassment

I remember getting ready to meet my friend at IHOP for National Pancake Day – an annual tradition. In preparation for our free short stack, I wore my favorite V-neck sweater and painted my lips cherry red. Red lipstick has always been my take-on-the-world shade, and you know what – I was ready to take on the world. As I was walking up to our neighborhood IHOP, a man stopped his car, honked at me, and yelled “damn girl, you look so fine right now. I wish you were mine. Mmm mm mm.” At that moment, I froze. I went from feeling confident and free to feeling violated and small.

This example of an unsolicited "compliment" by a stranger in a public place is a form of sexual harassment known as street harassment. Street harassment has been defined as:

[U]nwanted comments, gestures, and actions forced on a stranger in a public place without their consent and is directed at them because of their actual or perceived sex, gender, gender expression, or sexual orientation. Street harassment includes unwanted whistling, leering, sexist, homophobic or transphobic slurs, persistent requests for someone’s name, number or destination after they’ve said no, sexual names, comments and demands, following, flashing, public masturbation, groping, sexual assault, and rape.

Street harassment is a pervasive and prevalent norm in culture. One report found that sixty-five percent of women and twenty-five percent of men have experienced street harassment at least once in their lifetime. To illustrate the extent of this phenomena, Shoshana Roberts conducted a social experiment by recording herself walking the streets of New York for ten hours. During her experiment, she was subjected to over 100 instances of street harassment. Noa Jansma created the  #DearCatCallers Instagram handle. On this account, she took a selfie with men who catcalled her. The juxtaposition of her expressionless face with the faces of her jubilant harassers was astonishing. Not only were the men willing to take a picture with her, but they were proud and unashamed of their actions because, to them, they were "harmlessly" asserting their masculinity through compliments.

These "compliments" have serious social and psychological ramifications. First, this form of harassment exemplifies dominance feminism and the male gaze reinforcing societal power dynamics of the patriarchy.

The 'male gaze' invokes the sexual politics of the gaze and suggests a sexualised way of looking that empowers men and objectifies women. In the male gaze, [the] woman is visually positioned as an 'object' of heterosexual male desire. Her feelings, thoughts and her own sexual drives are less important than her being 'framed' by male desire.

When women are catcalled, they are reduced to being viewed as sexual objects. Their utility in society is based on what men find pleasurable about women - their bodies. Research shows that this type of objectification can not only affect our dignity as human beings but also undermines the psychological wellbeing of those on the receiving end of a catcall. One study found that street harassment was related to self-objectification, depression, and eating disorders.

While there is evidence of the negative impact street harassment, the onus for avoiding this type of harassment has been put on the victim - not the perpetrator. This is one of the key reasons why street harassment has been found to be a part of rape culture. For example, "on the spectrum of violence against people it becomes clear that people are meant to police and control different areas of their lives to avoid becoming a victim or target." Instead of socializing harassers to stop their boorish and harmful behavior, victims are told to adjust their behavior in a variety of different ways, whether it be by dressing differently or drinking little to no alcohol in public places.

I remember the moment after the catcalling incident at IHOP, I went back to my car and pulled out a scarf to cover myself and wiped off my lipstick. I was socialized to blame myself for the harassment and believe that if I had worn something demure, I would not have been catcalled.

A few weeks later, I shared my story with a friend - a Muslim woman who typically wears a headscarf and an abaya (a robe-like dress) when she goes out. She shared the number of times men would approach her and tell her they were fantasizing what was under her abaya. Thus, it seems that no matter what types of "precautions" women are told to take, no one is immune from street harassment.

As a previous blogger on this forum stated, a woman's appearance is not an excuse to sexually harass her. 

These character judgments about women based on their appearance are harmful especially for young girls who grow up internalizing these messages. What is even worse is that the perception of women as sluts is used to blame victims of sexual abuse, commonly known as victim blaming.

Because street harassment in the form of catcalling has been such a commonplace experience, some cities and countries around the world have worked to make catcalling a fineable offense. For example, the British county of Nottinghamshire has classified catcalling as a hate crime. While there are exciting developments across the globe to legislatively combat street harassment in the form of catcalling, the United States has been slow to follow. Because most hate speech and offensive language is protected by the First Amendment, there is an argument that it may be very difficult to legislatively curb catcalling as it can chill speech and may be difficult to administer.

I am not sure what the best way to combat street harassment if the law is not by our side. While some women push back against the harassers, others ignore the provocation for safety reasons. What I do know is that the next time this happens (and it will happen), I will not blame myself. I will see catcalling for what it is: sexual harassment used to assert power and patriarchal norms to the detriment of women. 

What even is a nipple?

My partner and I were getting ready for bed one night. As she was getting out of that day's clothes, she pulls up her shirt and starts yelling, "I want my Jerry beads!" We both thought it was hilarious. Between the laughing, I told her that, as a child, I thought it was so cool that womyn would show their breasts on T.V. for some beads. I even wanted to go on the Jerry Springer Show and get myself some beads! And my partner expressed she had the same desire as a child.

And then it hit us--what a horrible thing for a child to want to do when they got older! As the daughter of a single mother who was also a Catholic Mexican immigrant, pulling my shirt up to show the world my "chi chis" was not something I should have wanted to do, especially not for some beads my mom could have gotten at me from the 99 Cent Store. Not that there is anything inherently wrong with pulling up your shirt and showing the world your boobs. It was problematic for a seven-year-old girl to believe that was what she should do for attention.

I can think of so many more ideas I had as a child that involved me trying to be "sexy" so that boys would like me. Some people will point to my mother and say she should have monitored what I watched more closely. As many low-income people of color know, our immigrant parents were preoccupied working and worrying about feeding us and not missing our rent payments.

Additionally, this problem goes beyond monitoring what I watched as a child. Why did I think it was cool to pull up your shirt and show off your boobs? My brain had already been wired to sexually objectify my own body. But how?

I am especially surprised that my partner wanted Jerry beads as a child because, from a very early age, she knew she was masculine-of-center and had identified with her brother's clothes and toys more so than what her mother would buy her.

There are obviously many reasons as to why young girls objectify their bodies (i.e., media, society, cultural norms). Whatever the reasons are, this cultural norm is a lose-lose situation for womyn. Womyn are encouraged to behave like this (Jerry beads, spring break wet T-shirt contests, mud fights), but once they do, they are seen as hoes, easy, whores or immoral. Additionally, although men don't want an "easy" woman, they do want a woman who attracts attention. But how do you attract attention without doing  the things that consider a woman easy?

These questions lead me back to wanting Jerry beads. Although this behavior is encouraged, female nipples generally have to be censored on television and social media, with a few exceptions. This would not be upsetting if male nipples also had to be censored. This has fueled the #FreeTheNipple movement. When looking at photos that have been altered to show male nipples in place of female nipples, we can appreciate how similar male and female nipples are and conclude that body censorship really is about sexually objectifying female bodies.

For instance, take Janet Jackson's "wardrobe malfunction" at the 2004 Super Bowl. People were so upset about what happened that Janet Jackson issued a public apology even though it was Justin Timberlake who exposed her breast. The aftermath of the 2004 Super Bowl halftime show brings to light the sexism surrounding body censorship. Not only was Janet Jackson's career affected by this choice, Justin Timberlake's was not affected negatively, and if anything, was affected positively. Since Justin Timberlake did not share the responsibility in 2004, people were upset he was invited to perform for the 2018 Super Bowl halftime show.

At the end of the day, male and female nipples are the same. So what's the problem? The only thing I can think of is that the more censored a womxn is, the sexier society finds her. But, that's society's problem to deal with, not ours.

Can we keep our culture and still be feminists?

I recently got hooked on One Day at a Time. Netflix rebooted the series based on a 1975 show: One Day at a Time.

Today's show is about a single Cuban mother who lives with her immigrant Cuban mother and her two children while her husband lives in Afghanistan. The fifteen-year-old daughter (Elena) is a bad ass feminist social justice advocate in the making. While grappling with her Cuban heritage, she tries to teach her family about sexism and environmental issues.

One of the biggest moments for the family comes when the daughter refuses to let her mother and grandmother throw her a quinceañera. The daughter looked up the history of the quinceañera and learned that this traditional "coming out" party was a way to inform the village that the teenage girl was ready to be married off. This did not sit well with Elena.

Elena was quick to explain this to her family and let them know that she would not partake in such a sexist tradition. In response, her mother pointed out that many Cuban traditions had sexist origins and if they refused to engage in everything with such origins, they would not have any Cuban traditions. She also showed Elena that, although quinceañeras have a sexist history, they no longer carry the same meaning today. To the mother, this was an opportunity to show the world that her daughter was growing up and that, as a single mother, she was raising her daughter by being able to put on such an elegant party.

This episode hit home because I often struggle with my Mexican upbringing and all the sexism in the Latinx heritage. One of the reasons I don't go to church is the inherent sexism in the bible and Catholicism. However, religion is a huge part of the Latinx culture. My mom wouldn't be my mom without her faith in God as His image has been created. Although I may not believe in the God my mom swears is our creator, I wear a gold rosary when I need to feel safe.

I even drag my partner along to posadas (a reenactment of Mary's and Joseph's search for lodging in Bethlehem performed several days in a row leading up to Christmas) come Christmas time, not because I like to pray the rosary and reenact the night Jesus was born, but because these posadas were a happy and consistent part of my childhood (I remember dressing up as Mary on more than one year). And while I did not have a quince because we could not afford one, I would have loved to get all dressed up, make it to the church and dance all night. Even as a child, I knew that quinces were sexist, especially because I saw no male equivalent.

So what does this all mean? Am I doing feminism wrong by wanting to partake in some of my culture's historically sexist traditions?

This discussion reminds me of Roxane Gay's Ted talk, Confessions of a bad feminist. Her work helped me understand that I can still consider myself a feminist and engage in Latinx traditions. However, there is still a part of me that doesn't know how to reconcile the history of many of my cherished traditions with my feminist identity.

One of the solutions I created is to offer to plan quinceañeras for any sons I have. And if I have the honor of planning a quinceañera for a boy, we can make it as "traditional" or non-traditional as he wants!

Quinceañeras aside, what do I do about church? I want my children to be baptized, mainly out of fear of the consequences of not being baptized my mom has told me about. So, if my children are baptized and have quinces for the sake of holding on to my culture, does that say anything about my feminist values?

And what about marriage? Do people who get married renounce part of their sense of gender equality? Many people would yell, "No! Of course not! The meaning of marriage in today's society has changed!" And that is true.

But what if I want to do a whole Latinx wedding? What if I want to have a ceremony at a Catholic church (assuming my partner and I would be allowed) where a priest lectures us on the importance of marriage and the values we should hold on to until we die? What if I want a loved one to embrace my future spouse and me in one of those huge rosaries that are made for weddings? What if I want to respect the meaning of wearing a white dress no matter how sexist it is and wear an off-white dress to the ceremony? Am I not a feminist?

The other question that pops into my head is: Or is American feminism racist? Although marriage in the United States has changed, in many Latinx countries, religion is a complex area where machismo and sexism are still very much alive. So, although I can have an American wedding and be fine, could I have a full-on Mexican wedding and still be considered a feminist?

I don't feel that I am sacrificing my values for engaging in cherished cultural practices, but Elena's confrontation with her mother and grandmother regarding a quinceañera's sexist origins raised powerful identity questions for me. It was also meaningful to watch Elena ultimately decide to have a quince to honor her mom and provide her mother the opportunity to demonstrate to the world what a great job she has done in raising her as a single parent.

While I do not have the answers for many of these questions, I appreciated how this episode helped me untangle my own thoughts around my Latinx identity, feminism and religion.

Performing gender as an “out” lesbian

When I went to college I decided to come out and try to pretend like it wasn’t a big deal. I had been in the closet all of high school, despite having a long-term girlfriend and knowing that I was gay since age 13. During the year after starting college and coming out I struggled with how to visually demonstrate my gender and sexual orientation while developing a style that felt comfortable for me.

There are plenty of stereotypes about what lesbians and queer women look like. For example, people think of masculine presenting / butch women, flannels, vests and practical shoes (think Birkenstocks), among other things. When I started college I had long hair and wore generally feminine clothing, although I was never one to wear dresses, heals, or makeup.

Despite my “tomboy” nature, I imagined myself as being a femme-presenting lesbian. Because of this, I felt invisible to the queer community. Having never had any sort of queer community before, I had a desire to both fit into that community and be visually identifiable as queer.

Over the course of my freshman year I intentionally sought out clothing and styles that I associated with stereotypes of what lesbians were supposed to look like. I bought a flannel and a vest, and I always wore a rainbow bracelet as a silent but clear signal to anyone I met that I was part of the queer community. While to most people wearing a simple cloth bracelet might not be significant, to me, and I imagine to others in the queer community, it was a powerful and necessary way of finding other queer people in a world that assumes heterosexuality.

The summer after my freshman year I took it a step further – I cut my long hair short. The act of cutting my hair short made me visually queer. This act of making myself visually queer was a reflection both of what I imagined queer women to look like and the stereotypes that both the queer community and heterosexual community had placed on us.

For a period of time after cutting my hair I had anxiety that my gender expression was not matching with my gender identity. I don’t mean this in the way that I looked like a boy and I felt like a woman, but to use lesbian terms, I self-identified as being more femme, but all of a sudden was presenting more butch.

Over time this anxiety dissipated as I explored my style, met more queer people who expressed their gender and sexuality in a wide range of ways, and became more comfortable exploring my own self-expression. The simple act of cutting ones hair from a longer length to a short length had an immense impact on my life as a woman and a lesbian.

My experience with the visual expression of my gender and sexuality relates to Judith Butler’s 1990 book Gender Trouble which argues that gender is “performative.” Butler argued that gender is something that is done and performed by the individual, that each of us takes on a role and that we are acting in some way.

While my anxiety about my gender expression, or as Butler would say, gender performance, dissipated over time and I found my own individual style and way to perform my queerness, I periodically consciously over-perform my lesbianism. For example I will attempt to “look gay” when going to Pride events or to clubs that cater to queer women. For me this is a combination of a fun way to visually display my queerness in a safe space and to signal to other queer women that I am not straight.

When I had short hair, I didn’t have to perform my queerness as much as I do now that I have long hair again. I now find myself intentionally outing myself to new people by mentioning my female partner so that I am never in a situation where I am assumed to be straight.

The benefits of a feminist legal education

After having taken a number of feminism courses in my undergraduate years as a part of my sociology degree, I figured it was only fitting to take feminist legal theory in law school. I was excited because this course offered an opportunity to take a class that did not seem like a traditional law school class but one more similar to my undergrad sociology classes. In the end the course was everything I hoped it would be, a chance to have conversations about very interesting topics without having to worry too much about the legal analysis, bar exam preparation, etc. Now that the course is over I find myself asking what the value of the class was other than providing a healthy mental break from the monotony of law school courses.

Before jumping into a discussion of the value of feminist legal theory I think it is important to define what feminist legal theory even is. The best definition I could find was provided by Leslie Francis and Patricia Smith, writing for the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. They write:

"Feminist philosophy of law identifies the pervasive influence of patriarchy and masculinist norms on legal structures and demonstrates their efforts on the material condition of women and girls and those who may not conform to cisgender norms...to understand how legal institutions enforce dominant gendered and masculinist norms." 

This seems like a good place to begin. While Leslie Francis and Patricia Smith were defining "feminist philosophy of law," the same definition applies to what feminist legal theory is. At least from my limited experience, the course was a critically reflective look at the way our society is structured and the way the judiciary, executive, and legislative branches of government legally justify patriarchy. This is immensely valuable the law is limited but powerful in terms of what it can do. As aspiring lawyers it is essential that we learn to deconstruct the law critically in order to do better in shaping the legal landscape of tomorrow.

One of the aspects of law school that I have a love-hate relationship with its length. Three years of school is great because it offers us the chance to find good jobs and start earning money sooner than other professional fields. This convenience comes at a great cost, it means we have a really limited time to learn the ins and outs of procedure, professional responsibility, legal research and writing, and specialization in a certain field of law. In this rush to learn how to follow the rules and be competent attorneys there is hardly enough time to deconstruct the law. There is little to no time to stop and wonder why certain aspects of the profession are the way that they are, to question whether there are better alternatives. In this crazy three year rush, patriarchy is reinforced. Unsurprisingly, the legal professional is one that has been historically shaped by white men and our current legal customs are the legacy of that. From what women are allowed to wear and how they are allowed to speak to sexual harassment in the workplace and the lack of female law firm partners, patriarchy is alive and well.  In the face of all of this, the value of feminist legal theory should be obvious. Any opportunity to exam and question in the law is valuable.

Feminism classes are clearly valuable in my eyes but this is still not a widely accepted viewpoint. While more and more people are seeing the value of feminism classes, it is still more popular to dismiss these types of courses as fringe classes for radical men-hating women. As Anna Diamond describes, this is the case for many reasons including misconceptions about what feminism is, misguided beliefs that we are in a "post-feminist" society, and doubts as to the real-world value of feminism classes.

It is ironic that one of the most popular reasons why people discount feminism classes is that they think those kinds of courses have nothing to offer them or they they think those courses are only meant for women. One of the reasons why I think feminism classes are essential is because of their intersectionality. As Ms. Diamond describes it, "Intersectionality tells us that there is no singular experience for women because of the way gender works in conjunction with race, ethnicity, social class, and sexuality." Indeed feminism does touch upon all of these topics and more. By creating the avenue to think critically about other aspects of society, which are undoubtedly relevant to everyone, feminism classes truly are classes that everyone could benefit from.

Ultimately, I found feminist legal theory to be a thrilling class that I very much looked forward to. As is typically the case with these types of courses, the class could be a bit of an echo-chamber. What I mean by that is that in general the class tended to agree on most subjects. While this did not hamper conversation, it does mean that the people who would probably benefit most from speaking about these kinds of subjects were not in the room. Nevertheless, the class was a valuable experience. If anything, I believe that classes such as these should be required of all law students the way professional responsibility and legal research and writing are. Perhaps then we could begin to think critically about the profession we are going into instead of being forced to conform to archaic customs.

The 'feminist' trend AW17

Whether you’ve a lifetime subscription to Vogue, or dress in a burlap sack and couldn’t really care less about fashion, New York Fashion Week post-Trump was of particular import. Almost overnight, the makers and wearers of haute couture, who rarely concern themselves with the struggles of mere mortals, adopted a political agenda. From Tommy Hilfiger to Calvin Klein, apparel appeared to become the new vehicle for social change. Designers printed bold statements on t-shirts, blouses, sweaters, even on underwear, denouncing some of Trump’s most divisive executive orders, from the immigration ban, to the 'wall', to cuts to Planned Parenthood funding.

The plight of women, however, seemed to be a hot topic for many designers to capitalize on. The Nepalese-American designer Prabal Gurung wrapped up his AW17 collection with a display of printed t-shirts proclaiming ‘Nevertheless, she persisted’, ‘Girls just want to have fundamental rights’ and took his final bow sporting a t-shirt splashed with ‘This is what a feminist looks like’. The American designer Adam Lippes unfurled signs reading ‘Adam Lippes stands with Planned Parenthood’ and ‘Girl Power’ outside of his show. I had a feeling Maria Grazia Chiruri’s ‘We should all be feminists’ début as the first female artistic director for Dior would be the overture to this feminist ‘trend’ of 2017. Chiruri drew inspiration for this simplistic design in her Spring 2017 collection from the influential feminist Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.

With a price tag of $710 for a printed cotton t-shirt, can we really all afford to be feminists? While I understand and appreciate the awareness many of these designers are attempting to create around feminism in a post-Trump landscape, it’s the disturbing anti-feminist trickle-down effect of many of these designs that I see as problematic.

While many luxury designers may escape scrutiny of their production methods since their garments are costly, created by hand and tend not to be produced in bulk, it’s the much-loved and familiar high-street brands harbouring more ominous secrets. Type in ‘slogan tee’ or ‘printed tee’ into the website search bars of H&M, Forever 21, Topshop, Urban Outfitters, Nike, Primark and many, many more fast fashion brands. One thing becomes apparent. The trend for feminist apparel is no longer confined to the catwalks of New York Fashion Week. ‘Feminism is for everyone’, ‘Revolution♀’, ‘Girls supporting girls’, ‘Fight like a girl’, ‘Equality’ and ‘Girl power’ were all popular buys. Yet somehow I doubt that by buying an overpriced ‘Power to the girls’ t-shirt (that you can frankly make yourself), will put an end to the sexism that is endured in this world. If anything, you may be contributing to the problem.

The 2015 Netflix documentary ‘The True Cost’ is an exposé of the many environmental and social injustices that are borne out of the $3 trillion fashion industry. When we look at the price tag on a t-shirt or a sweater, we’re often blind to the hidden cost behind the perceived bargain we think we’re getting. We often don’t see the many, many hands that have touched these garments. The hands that are being forced to work in inhumane factory conditions because they have no better employment alternative, with little to no workers’ rights, being paid well below a living wage, often forced to forfeit their families, health and sometimes even their lives as we saw in the case of the Rana Plaza garment factory collapse in Bangladesh. And all for what? So we can buy cheap clothes to satiate some innate desire, only to discard of them when the next trend comes rolling in?

America only makes about 3% of its own clothes, meaning garment production is frequently outsourced to impoverished countries so desperate for the work supplied by these goliath corporations that their governments routinely hold down workers’ wages to prevent companies finding a cheaper alternative and relocating. While it’s clear that the garment industry, the most labour dependent industry in the world, doesn’t solely exploit women, but men and children too, one cannot deny that women in these impoverished countries are hit the hardest by these working conditions, with women making up over 85% of the workforce.

To cite an excerpt from H&M’s ‘sustainability’ tab on their website;

“H&M group helps to create jobs, consequently lifting people out of poverty, and contributing to economic growth and improved standards of living… About two-thirds of these jobs are undertaken by women. For many women, this is their first job that provides an income, their first work outside the home and therefore a first step to independence.”

Sounds very wholesome, doesn’t it? The reality is large corporations such as H&M or any of the brands listed above, can afford to make these grand, vague statements because they don’t directly employ the workers that end up being exploited. They can keep themselves at arms length from the 'dirty' business of factory collapses, structural defects, underpaid workers and increasingly negative health effects of sweltering, overcrowded factory floors, as their products are sourced from 'independent suppliers'. All that this shift of blame results in is avoiding any and all responsibility while at the same time reaping colossal financial benefits from cheap labor. Many of these large corporations also blocked the Decent Working Conditions and Fair Competition Act, which tried to “prohibit the import, export, and sale of goods made with sweatshop labor”, citing that it would be an impediment to free trade. The message is clear, profits before people.

With companies refusing to implement any solid legislative protection for workers, or prohibition of goods produced by sweatshop labor, all that is in place are voluntary ‘codes of conduct’ which companies can elect to undertake, and even if they don’t, or fail to see them through, they’ll face little to no punitive consequences.

I can’t help but think about the women sitting in a garment factory in Bangladesh or Cambodia, earning less than $3 a day and stitching the words ‘Girl power’ or ‘Equality’ onto t-shirts without finding the situation to be quite perverse. One poignant, yet resonating line from 'The True Cost', spoken by a female Bangladeshi factory worker lingered with me; "I don't want anyone wearing anything that is produced by our blood". We may think we’re empowering one another by wearing t-shirts with feminist slogans on them, however if they originate from a patriarchal and capitalist system in which thousands of women are forced to work in inhumane conditions for a pittance, then the irony is overwhelming.

Double Eye Lid Surgery – What's The Big Deal?

Korean-Americans have a fascination with double-eyelid surgery. For some second generation Korean-American females, it is considered a rite of passage to undergo the surgical procedure at the age of eighteen. I remember on the eve of my sister’s eighteenth birthday, our mother told my sister that money had been set aside to pay for the elective surgery – if my sister wanted the procedure. Our family did not grow up with a lot of money, with little to no savings to speak of. The mere fact that our parents had specifically earmarked money for the sole purpose of an elective surgery spoke volumes. The normative subtext of our mother’s statement becomes clearer situated in this context: you should get this surgery.

In Medicalization of Racial Features: Asian American Women and Comestic Surgery, Eugeina Kaw offers a descriptive account of the phenomenon of double eyelid surgery, and its social implications. Kaw provides a thorough analysis of how and why Asian-American women feel compelled into getting plastic surgery, mainly for reconstruction of the nose and the eyes.

Her views on the strict racialization of facial features and what this racialization leads to, hinges on three key aspects: (i) the “cultural and institutional structures” of a society (namely the medical field and media), (ii) the effects of a consumer orientated society, and (iii) the “internalization of racial and gender stereotypes”. Kaw further argues that these different aspects work together in order to influence Asian-American women into feeling the need obtain a more “American” look.

Let me first begin by posing a two-part question: does the medical field and cosmetic field work in conjunction to create a particular definition of beauty and if they do, how and why do Asian-American women buy into the mold of beauty that defines the “Asian” look as undesirable?

Kaw argues that the medical field, in conjunction with a consumer orientated society, does in fact shape the way people in a society come to think about what it means to appear beautiful. Eugeina Kaw believes that Asian-American women learn to associate the characteristic Asiatic facial features with negative traits such as: passivity, dullness, a lacking of expression, and slow wit. As a result of Asian-American women correlating their facial features (flat nose, “slanty eyes”) with negative traits, they “strive for a face with larger eyes and a more prominent nose,” which Kaw argues can be understood as wanting a more “American” face. These associations that Asian-American women make can be attributed to the fact that they have been continually exposed to racial stereotypes through two main socializing agents: family and media.

For example, when my sister was a junior in high school, my aunt and mother persuaded my sister to get the double eyelid surgery during her summer visit to Korea. My sister said at that age, she was easily persuaded into getting the surgery because she personally believed that “American” looking eyes were more attractive than the shape of “Asian” eyes. It seemed as if her readiness to accept the surgery stemmed from her over-exposure to American media and the transmission of cultural values that my aunt and mother held (family as a socializing agent).*

The strength of this cultural learning is only reinforced by the manner in which the medical field perpetuates these racial ideologies that influences Asian-American women to associate negative traits with their natural facial features. Although, the medical professionals never hint at the fact overtly, it is subtly implied in the way doctors describe “Asian” facial features. Terminology and phraseology such as “the absence of of the palpebral fold produces a passive expression which seems to epitomize the stoical and unemotional manner of the Oriental”, expresses the view that medical knowledge is based off of “scientific rationality”. By referring to science as their justification for such characterizations, and using medical terminology, they protect themselves from racial criticisms by hiding behind the “veil of objectivity” of the medical field.

If we were to embrace the view that Asian-American women are being subtly influenced into conforming to the Western standard of beauty, what possible solutions are there to regain autonomy and empowerment? Referring back to my sister, as she became more knowledgeable in the field of sociology and Asian-American studies, her views on double eyelid surgery drastically changed. She began to despise the fact that she had undergone the surgery, and realized her decision to get the double eyelids was heavily influenced by problematic external factors. 

*I recognize that I may be editorializing here, in an attempt to shoehorn my sister’s experiences within Eugeina Kaw’s framework. 

Attitudes to female appearance and body stereotyping: what can women do?

In my first blog on women in sport, I suggested that attitudes to female appearance and body stereotyping present barriers to girls’ acceptance in sport on their own terms. What I didn’t do was consider what women ought to do about appearance/body stereotyping in general.

Perhaps, we could begin by finding a vision to inspire us all? Personally, I’m inspired by the simple ideal espoused by singer and actress, Ariana Grande. In a tweet two years ago, Grande expressed frustration at the continual media focus on issues like her appearance, the boy she might be dating and what she saw as an ever present misogyny in the American film and music business. Her longing was for a world where every woman would be far more valued for their personal accomplishments and who they are as individuals. Who could argue with that?

The only question, then, is how women get themselves there. Perhaps the answer lies in more and more women, as a collective, forcing change by resisting gender stereotyping from cradle to grave? Many feminists, for example, claim that individuals, almost from birth, undergo a process of socialisation through which they are taught “gender appropriate” behaviours, attitudes, roles and activities. According to this theory, girls are generally conditioned to value appearance, while boys are encouraged to value strength and material success. This is revealed in the toys girls and boys play with: the Barbie doll vs. the action figure (or, as feminists might see it, the pretty girl vs. the strong man). Such toys, coupled with parent encouragement, subtly teach girls that their most important attribute is their appearance.

For many feminists, therefore, the notion that girls are normally interested in appearance and boys are strong and competitive is not natural. It is instead artificially inculcated from birth. To feminists, this gender socialisation undermines the natural individuality of both girls and boys. Thus, as girls grow into women, they are encouraged to believe that they will be more widely accepted when their physical appearance conforms to what society values. Since, as feminism argues, we live in a patriarchal society, the valued female appearance and body type is shaped by the contemporary preferences of heterosexual men. This “ideal” is then propagandised through the media and popular culture. The consequences of such valuation, feminists often maintain, is that women, whose appearance does not conform to patriarchal preferences, are more likely to be marginalised and to struggle to earn public acceptance.

For some, the best way for women to overcome appearance and body stereotyping is through what is popularly known as ‘body positivism’. “Embrace”, a Netflix documentary directed by body positivity activist, Taryn Brumfitt, suggests that women, are culturally conditioned to hate their bodies, and that their approximation to beauty is far too often allowed to define their social value. The body positivity movement seeks to challenge this by encouraging women to learn instead to “love their bodies”. Body positivism is not an expressly “feminist” movement and not all the women featured in “Embrace” would necessarily identify as feminists. Yet, I couldn’t help but notice the clear parallels between feminist and body positivity gender conditioning theory. Could this, then, be the action women need to take to break down gender stereotyping and attain the Ariana Grande vision of being valued for her personal accomplishments and who she is as an individual?

Perhaps or perhaps not. I would contend that the modelling industry ought to be regarded as the common arch-enemy of both the feminist and body positivity movements. This is because it is a leading propagator of female body stereotyping in magazines and on TV. Body positivism is rightly critical of the modelling industry for that reason. Yet its attempts to “change the face” of modelling to bring it more into line with the values of the body positivity movement have been, at best, feeble.

In ‘Embrace’, Brumfitt interviews Mia Freedman, former editor of women’s magazine Cosmopolitan, who describes some of the barriers she encountered during her quest to diversify the female body images used in her publication. Freedman banned diets and tried to include more women of different races and body shapes. However, retail brands refused to provide clothes for her non-stereotypical models because they didn’t want anyone bigger than a size 8 (AUS) associated with their products. Photographers and makeup artists also refused to take part in shoots on the same basis.

For me, the obvious conclusion from the Cosmopolitan story is that body positivism’s idea that women can successfully overcome female body stereotyping by learning to love their bodies is wrong headed. Sorry body positivity, but that is not, I believe, what women primarily need to do. What women need to do first is to recognise that the problem here is not their attitude, rather it is the attitude of society as a whole. Therefore, it is society that needs to change, not women. Society should instead be encouraged to ‘embrace’, from cradle to grave, the Ariana Grande vision. All parts of society must learn to respect every girl’s (and boy’s) individuality. It should never be allowed to compress children psychologically into standard, stereotyped gender roles that are, more often than not, entirely unnatural to them as separate and unique human beings.

This, to me, is what feminism is all about. And it is only when society is fully altered through feminism that women will truly become more ‘body positive’. Feminism therefore, to me, is exactly what women ought to do about appearance/body stereotyping and is the true path to the Ariana Grande vision.

Squeezing into sexism?

In my most recent post, I alluded to classical ballet’s flirtation with feminism in the form of Isadora Duncan, a 19th Century American dancer, refusing to wear a restrictive whale-boned corset while performing, and instead opted for a loose-fitting Grecian tunic. While this defiant outfit change may garner a “so what?” reaction from some, her intrepid move inspired me to reflect upon the corset as a symbol so deeply enshrined in history as an instrument of female oppression, but also as a possible symbol of female emancipation.

The “progressive” intellectual and social reformer Havelock Ellis once wrote that the evolution from “horizontality to verticality” was more difficult for females than males, and also that a “woman might be physiologically truer to herself if she went always on all fours”. The blatant comparison drawn between women and base four-legged animals aside, the opinion of such an “expert” instilled a grotesque image of women as feeble, spineless creatures into society from the Middle Ages to the Mid Twentieth Century. It’s no wonder that at the pinnacle of their popularity in the Victorian era, the garb of a ‘respectable’ and ‘decently dressed’ lady demanded a corset, with anything less only insinuating loose morals.

So what did the traditional corset represent? The entire design of corsets with their cinched waists that are quite literally breath-taking, aimed to fabricate the ‘ideal’ hourglass figure in order to satiate the mainstream male sexual desires of the hay day. A slim waist with accentuated hips and breasts subliminally equates to fertility which in turn equates to childbearing capacity, apparently. Men made up the vast majority of corset makers, with Louis XIV of France reported to have ordered a guild of female dressmakers to make all the clothes for women in French court, apart from riding habits and corsets, which were left exclusively in the domain of men. So while male appetites defined the silhouette of the woman, male hands too contributed to their caging.

While the artist Manet once remarked “the satin corset may be the new nude of our era”, when referring to his infamous painting ‘Nana’, the inherent sexuality of the corset has and will always continue to ooze. The popularity of corsetry had fluctuated and nearly fizzled out since Manet’s time, yet we have Madonna to thank for so kindly reviving the draconian garment during her 1990 Blonde Ambition Tour, in which she collaborated with Jean-Paul Gaultier to produce the iconicpink cone bra corset. Riding the wave of sex-positive feminism, Madonna’s corset was a distinctly different creature from the antiquity all had grown accustomed to, adding fuel to the flames of the Underwear as Outerwear movement.

This concept that underwear should be worn over clothes, not under them, or even by itself (why not?), bolsters the arguments of sex-positive feminism that have been bubbling over since the early ‘80s. Despite the centuries of tight-laced terror inflicted upon women, somehow the corset has come to embody this in full. We need only look to the 2017 Spring/Summer collections of countless couturiers for our proof. Along with printed tees proclaiming “we should all be feminists”, Christian Dior’s first female creative director Maria Grazia-Chiuri, showcased the emerging trend with a subtle nod to their boned brethren. Isabel Marant, Les Copains, Stella McCartney,MISBHV, Fenty x Puma, to name but a few, point to the plethora of designers rooting for the revival of corsetry, albeit in a deconstructed sense.

Somehow in the tumultuous lifespan of this garment, the Kardashians enter the fray. Their iconic pedalling of waist trainers as exercise and weight loss aids serve only to remind us that the corset in any shape or form is repugnant to feminist ideals. Kim, Khloé and Kylie being the most flagrant offenders, attempt to reinforce this idea of centuries past that the hourglass figure equates to beauty by pawning it off as “body positivity”. Unfortunately for the rest of us lacking in surgically endowed curves, waist trainers won’t give us anything other than indigestion and a sense of inferiority.

Women’s bodies have never been good enough, a fact that has repeatedly reasserted itself throughout history, and corsetry hasn’t been alone in highlighting this. From foot binding to fad diets, there has never really been an acceptance of the uniqueness and individuality of the female form. Although sex-positive feminism and the Underwear as Outerwear movement have characterised modern day corsetry as being a distinct choice that women have control over as opposed to a mandatory imposition, in light of what the corset originally and still fundamentally embodies, it’s safe to say no amount of Madonna’s or Kim Kardashian’s will ever squeeze me back into this form of sexism.

Women in sport: how far have we come?

Last week in class we watched a clip from the Makers documentary. This told the story of Kathrine Switzer, who, in 1967, became the first woman to run the Boston Marathon as a numbered entrant. At the time, women were not sanctioned to enter the iconic race but Katherine had completed her application in the way she normally signed her name, ie as “K V Switzer”. Consistent with the attitudes of the time, race organizers “naturally” assumed that she was male.

Katherine didn’t enter the 1967 Boston Marathon looking for a fight. She simply loved to run. However, the race official, Jock Semple, was so outraged when he saw her racing with the other competitors (all male) that he ran onto the course and attempted to physically pull her away and rip off her numbered bib. Although Katherine’s story made headlines at the time, it was another five years before women were officially allowed to compete in the Boston Marathon.

Fifty years on, we rightly celebrate the undoubted progress that women have made in the sport and fitness world since Katherine’s frightening 1967 encounter with sporting officialdom in Boston. No one today bats an eyelid at female marathon runners. In fact, it’s a recognised Olympic sport. Women’s participation in various other sporting and fitness disciplines has rocketed. Indeed, we’re now increasingly being accepted even into “traditionally male” sports like boxing (Ireland’s very own Katie Taylor being one such example) as well as soccer and rugby. All of us – male and female – are increasingly familiar with and accepting of ever more female sporting role models such as Serena Williams and Nicole Adams. Clearly, we have come a long, long way since 1967. Or have we?

A seemingly trivial remark apparently made about me a few days ago prompted me to question how far women have actually come since 1967. What triggered the thought was something a friend told me the other day about what a male student had apparently said of me. What was stated was apparently along the lines of:- “I saw that Irish girl [me] in the gym yesterday and she looked like she really knew what she was doing… Is she doing that for the float trip next weekend?”

I never heard the comment myself and I’m sure there was a compliment intended in there somewhere. Yet for some initially inexplicable reason, I can’t help but feel slightly offended. Why?

Perhaps, I’m simply neurotic. Or, perhaps, I’m unduly sensitive about being Irish outside in the United States and that someone would assume that, as an “Irish girl,” I would not be expected to “know what I was doing” in the gym (particularly in the male-dominated weights area, where I spend most of my sessions). But no, I know that the comment was in no way derogatory of my Irishness. That is simply part of who I am and how I’m known here, and is perfectly fine.

So what was it about the reported remark that caused me to react so badly? The more I thought about it, the more I realised that my real issue was the seeming association between my interest in the gym and personal vanity. To me it implied that my sole motive for being in the gym was to make myself appear more physically attractive on a weekend outing – presumably to male students. In short, I (rightly or wrongly) interpreted the statement as judgemental and demeaning, not of the Irish, but of females in general who choose to go to the gym, exercise or take part in sport. I am sceptical that a statement like this would have been made about me if I had been male.

As earth-shatteringly appalling as it may sound coming from a female, I actually love the gym, and I love exercise. I have been weight lifting for several years now, and health and fitness has become a very important part of my life. It has helped not only my physical health, but also my mental well-being. In the past, I have struggled with anxiety, and, for me, the gym and other activities like hiking, horse riding and swimming have become my “sanctuary.”  It’s where I go when I’m stressed or upset or just simply need a bit of “me-time.” It makes me feel strong and confident. Of course, all of us like to look well and to keep our weight in control. But that is a human desire and is certainly not the sole preserve of females!

The question I’ve been left with is whether a seemingly throw away remark about my reasons for exercising might be exemplary of wider barriers that women still need to overcome in the area of sport and fitness. I found myself wondering whether the 1967 spirit of Jock Semple still survives in sport – albeit, perhaps, in a more covert and less glaring form? Once I began to look further into the subject, it became hard for me to avoid the conclusion that a bit of the outraged spirit of Jock Semple might still lurk amongst us, perhaps somewhere in the depths. In preparing this blog I googled “women in sport” and was stunned to discover that the first search result was an article entitled, “Top 10 Most Beautiful Women in Sport”. The more I searched, the more I found female sports being praised (or criticised) for their bodies, rather than for the hard work they put in for competitions or the titles they win.

And what of girls in sport who may not correspond to the traditional stereotype of a physically slender female that many men find appealing? I noticed that, in recent years, Olympic gold-medalist, Caster Semenya, was barred from competing and was subjected to degrading gender testing simply because the media and athletic associations thought she looked “too masculine”. Such attitudes are reinforced by the limited nature of media coverage of women’s sports. Studies show that only about 4% of sportscoverage in local and national media is dedicated to women’s sport. Self-evidently, female athletic achievements are much less important to the popular press than male.

If this is how women are evaluated and treated in sport, how can I blame any male student for possibly suggesting that, as a girl, I only go to the gym because I want to impress men? If this is how women are evaluated and treated in sport, no wonder there remains a significant disparity between male and female participation nationally and internationally. If this is how women are evaluated and treated in sport, should we be surprised that, by the age of 14, for example, girls are dropping out of sports at twice the rate of boys? Surely all this merely serves to maintain life support for the 1967 Jock Semple notion that women and girls don’t belong in the sport and fitness arena on the same basis as men?

Women today owe a huge debt of gratitude to people like Katherine Switzer. Their personal courage, determination and audacity opened a huge new door of freedom and opportunity for women in sport over the past 50 years. However, we owe it to Katherine - and we owe it to the many other brave women of her generation - to remember her example and not to become complacent. It is Katherine’s spirit - not the 1967 spirit of Jock Semple - that most needs life support today and which we must, in our own and our children’s interest, endeavor to keep alive and perpetuate.

Yes, we have come a long, long way from the 1967 Boston Marathon. But the journey is not yet over.

Got any bruises from your last beating? Here’s how to hide them with makeup!

On November 23rd, 2M TV aired a makeup tutorial segment featured on their morning TV show Sabahyate. It is safe to say that usually, makeup tutorials do not get a lot of attention in the mainstream media or create any uproar. Although, this time, the tutorial went viral on the Internet and numerous newspapers published articles about it.

In the video, the makeup artist explains how to hide traces of domestic violence and demonstrates how to effectively apply concealer and foundation on bruises. While the artist is applying cosmetics on a woman’s fake bruises and marks, she and the host casually make the following statements, among other advice:

Make sure to use loose powder to fix the makeup, so if you have to work throughout the day, the bruises don’t show.
After the beating, this part is still sensitive, so don’t press.
We hope that these beauty tips help you carry on with your normal life. (The Washington Post)

2M is Morocco’s national TV channel owned by the Government of Morocco. According to 2M TV's website, they wish to promote gender equality and the deconstruction of gender stereotypes in their programs and policies. 2M even has publicly available guidelines in which they acknowledge the  national channel’s impact on Moroccan society and commit to value and present women’s image in a way that advocates for gender equality.

The show aired two days prior to the UN’s international day for the elimination of violence against women. Apparently, Sabahyate’s decision makers thought it would be timely and appropriate to broadcast a tutorial about hiding traces of violence. However, as soon as the segment was posted on the Internet, social media responded rather virulently. Moroccan people, as well as others, wrote outraged Tweets and posts. More than 3,000 people signed the Change.org ‘Don’t cover domestic violence with makeup’ petition that was launched in reaction to the segment. The petitioners wrote:

As Moroccan women and as feminist activists in Morocco, and in the name of all Moroccan people, we denounce the message of normalization with violence against women.

Two days after the show aired, on the international day for the elimination of violence against women, 2M released a statement on their Facebook page. The channel thanked the citizens who showed their vigilance through social media and explained:

Management believes that this segment is completely inappropriate and displays a lack of editorial understanding due to the sensitivity and seriousness of the subject of violence against women.
This approach is in total contradiction with the editorial identity of the channel and […] the commitment of 2M for 27 years in favor of the defense of women’s rights.

Considering the media’s influence and role as a national TV channel, it is somehow comforting to see that 2M reacted quickly and issued this apology statement – or 'clarification' as they named it. It is also somehow uplifting to witness social media’s force as a positive tool to denounce this type of insidious message. Perhaps this internet buzz could lead to more awareness about the issue of normalized violence, in a similar way to the Salvation's Army's ad campaign in which they used the Dressgate buzz to condemn abuse against women (more on this in this blog post).

Violence against women and domestic violence are sadly common phenomena. In Morocco, a 2015 national report found that almost two out of three women have suffered from gender violence. Of these two-thirds, 55% reported conjugal violence. In the US, according to The Huffington Post’s statistics, one in four women will be victims of severe violence by an intimate partner in their lifetimes, and a woman is beaten every nine seconds. These shocking statistics highlight how critical it is to raise awareness, to reject violence in any form and to take action. The makeup tutorial made violence look like it was an acceptable part of a woman’s everyday life. The show’s promotion of concealing bruises contributed to victim-shaming instead of blaming the person responsible for the beating. The video made it seem normal to camouflage bruises as part of a beauty routine. It is absolutely not normal and should not be presented as such.

The pressure to be thin

It is no secret that many women have unhealthy relationships with their bodies and, as a result, with the food they choose to eat. An estimated 80% of females in the United States are “dissatisfied with their appearance” and women, as a whole, are ten times more likely to develop an eating disorder than their male counterparts. The question must be asked: why are we so susceptible to these negative thoughts and ideas about ourselves?

The strong and, at times, overwhelming presence of the media in our lives puts enormous pressure on people to look and dress a certain way. The influential power it can have on society was outlined very clearly in ‘MissRepresentation’, and my eyes were opened to the considerable effect it has on my life and the lives of my peers. Having been introduced to this film I am now acutely aware of my reactions to certain images and concepts conveyed to me by the media and social media alike.

Fashion and body image have evolved over the years, and society has followed suit. Women aspire, sometimes unfortunately, to be like those portrayed by the media as “beautiful” and “sexy”.  It is unfortunate that we are swayed so dramatically by what we see when there is so much more to beauty. This video accurately depicts the varying definitions of the word throughout the ages. It would appear that we are just living in a time where our perception of the “perfect” body requires a great deal of discipline.

While the “old-school” forms of media are teaching us to aspire to look like celebrities, new forms of social media, such as Instagram, are influencing us to look better than our peers. . People are finding fame on this medium purely by being thin and attractive and having the "perfect bikini body". One girl tells the story of how Instagram negatively impacted her perceptions of her own body and worsened her eating disorder. The website has become a breeding ground for competition amongst women to such an extent that they feel the need to alter images of themselves. The burden has become so great that people edit and photoshop photos, transforming themselves into entirely different people.

This begs me to ask the question: have women been striving all these years to look a certain way so that they appear more sexually attractive, or are they merely doing so in order to outdo other women? On more than one occasion have I seen a fridge magnet or the likes brandishing the phrase:

“Dear God, if you won’t make me skinny then please make my friends fat”.

This suggests that women care less about their own appearance and more about how they are perceived relative to other women.

Women are often thought to be in constant competition with one another. It is rare that they are portrayed celebrating their peers. They are more commonly considered to be envious of others’ achievements. So, is it the case that, in relation to body image, the concern is not about gaining admirers but merely about outshining the rest of the competition?

Regardless of the motivation, the epidemic still exists and requires action. Perhaps if more attention were given to things other than one’s appearance, the issue would become less. Alternatively, if the focus shifted from loathing one’s body to adoring it and providing it with the nutrients it requires, then a healthier body image would be accepted.  

Sexism; A Thing of Subtlety?

It has only recently come to my attention that, while painfully present in today’s society, sexism has become a very subtle thing. I look at advertising and the media and lack outrage. It was only when watching excerpts from ‘MissRepresentation’ in class this week that I realised, while I am fully aware of the inappropriate way in which women are portrayed by the media, I have a tendency to ignore it. I have become so used to the hyper-sexualisation of females that I now barely recognise the underlying current behind it. I was brought up watching women be exposed this way to a point that I subconsciously accept it. 

In the aftermath of Thursday’s class, I spent a lot of time considering just how affected by the media we really are. Essentially, it is everywhere. The average adult spends 20 hours a week online. What is even worse than this statistic is that the impressionable teenagers of our generation, are spending an average of 27 hours online every week. During this time, they are being exposed to images that are unrealistic portrayals of the female body. Websites such as Facebook and Instagram are forums for people to display themselves, to show the world the best physical version of themselves. Many take these as opportunities to distort themselves and their natural appearance with the intention of gaining “likes” and “followers”. The concern for people using these sites is rarely the substance of their post and, often, the popularity it will help them achieve.

Moreover, the media is also feeding women and girls a false notion that their highest priority is to look like the best version of themselves. Amy Schumer recently highlighted this issue on her Instagram page. She posted a photo in which a magazine aimed at women was placed next to a magazine aimed toward men. The cover of the male-oriented magazine contained the headline “Explore Your Future” while the female cover stories were much more superficial, for example, “Your Dream Hair”. This shocked and outraged me. How is such blatant sexism on display? After further consideration, I realised that I witness such things on a very regular basis and never find myself noticing or caring about them. Sexism has become a thing so normal to me that I am basically unaware of its existence in the media until someone else draws my attention to it. 

The thing that struck me most by the documentary, however, was not just the way in which women are scrutinised but the extent to which it occurs. Watching and learning about the comparisons and contrasts made between Hillary Clinton and Sarah Palin made me very concerned about the criticism we, as women, are bound to face. Regardless of their appearance and whether or not it was considered attractive, they were being scrutinised based on how they looked. Clinton, a dignified woman with plenty of experience and qualification, was being regarded as old and haggard. While Palin, on the other hand, a young mother who was considered to be very beautiful looking had, due to her good-looks, difficulty being taken seriously. It seems to me that, by this standard, women can never win. Either you are criticised for not looking the right way or you are criticised for looking the right way but that, in turn, meaning you couldn’t possibly be regarded in a sincere way.

It scares me that these comments are made so frequently. Everyday new stories emerge in the media and new photos are posted online, all accentuating the “perfect” way to look. In the lead up to summer everyone is so worried about getting that “perfect bikini body” and all the tabloids are trying to guarantee women the quickest and easiest route to getting there. But men don’t wear bikinis. Where is the pressure for men to get the “perfect swimming-trunks body”? We see these messages and allow them to influence us without ever really noticing that they do. I see coverage of the presidential election and accept the media’s perception of Hillary Clinton because she is a woman, without ever paying homage to the fact that a man in the same position would never be regarded from such an angle.  I worry that somewhere down the line we grew so accustomed to sexism that it is now almost acceptable. 

Hillary as mediator: why the job of POTUS might suit her more than you think . . .

For several months now, I’ve been wanting to love Hillary. She’s already my candidate because of the lesser-of-two-evils-condition of this election, but I’ve felt very conflicted. I don’t resonate with her as a person, but I get instantaneous tears in my eyes when I watch her enter a stage. That woman, right there, that person of my gender, could be our next president. I want this so badly I get a lump in my throat typing it.

. . . But I’m still not able to connect with Hillary. And I’m not alone. I decided to do some soul-searching (and more research) into what makes Hillary less accessible than other politicians, though she is a powerhouse of a lawmaker. Once you look into her approval ratings, what you see is that the nation approves of Hillary more when she’s working in a job than when she’s trying to garner their approval in a campaign. This is strange, but you start to see the pattern all over the place: she frequently delivers stilted, 'shrill' speeches, but when she was a Senator, she amended 67 bills in eight years and served on five senate committees. As Secretary of State, she brought Iran to the negotiating table, improved US-Cuba relations, increased exports to China, and more. These are no small feats, and people liked her while she was accomplishing them. So where is the disconnect between her success and her, well . . . popularity?

The thing that makes Hillary less accessible has a name. In his illuminating article Understanding Hillary: Why the Clinton America Sees Isn’t the Clinton Colleagues Know, Ezra Klein calls this “the Gap:”

There is the Hillary Clinton I watch on the nightly news and that I read described in the press. She is careful, calculated, cautious. Her speeches can sound like executive summaries from a committee report, the product of too many authors, too many voices, and too much fear of offense. . . And then there is the Hillary Clinton described to me by people who have worked with her, people I admire, people who understand Washington in ways I never will.

I now see exactly what Klein sees in Hillary. What’s more, I have come to see that the Gap is why I think she will make an incredible President.

As this is legal blog, I’d like to frame things from a lawyering prospective. Clinton is an attorney, as are over half of past presidents. It thus seems fitting to apply the profession to her demeanor. I feel there are really three types of lawyers. There are (1) the orating-suave-extroverted types, (2) the attention-to-detail-introverted-sharp-witted types, and (3) the mediating-community-organizing-consensus-building types. Most lawyer-politicians fit entirely into category (1), or are sometimes a mix between (1) and (2) (read: Bernie Sanders). The category (1) lawyers are the ones that have the most success with campaigning: they are affable, charming, and thrilled to hear themselves speak. However, Hillary is right between lawyers (2) and (3), she has nearly none of the natural orator in her. She, in contrast to nearly all of her peers, is a listener. Though she was a litigator in the past, I think that Hillary’s personality makes her more of a perfect mediator.

She embodies all the qualities of a great mediator (learned in my Mediation course with Steven Rosenberg, here at UC Davis). First, she’s an incredibly active listener embarking on “listening tours” to kick off her last two campaigns and is inclined to use what she hears (e.g. ‘card-table time’ wherein she re-reads all her notes from listening and develops policy). Second, her work-style is collaborative and consensus building. Though this is sometimes to her detriment, it gains her great loyalty and gives her a large network of people from whom she can ask favors and ideas. Third, she is flexible, and fourth she is creative in developing thoughtful initiatives like this one. Finally, Hillary is persistent. It doesn’t take much to see that she has been working toward higher political office -perhaps even toward this very race- since possibly the mid-eighties.

To my mind, these qualities make her a perfect fit for the presidential office. Indeed, Matthew Yglesias is in accord in his Vox article Hillary Clinton is bad at speeches for the exact reasons she'd be a good president:

The very qualities that tend to make Clinton bad at speechwriting — a penchant for the least-common-denominator and a passion for making sure no small thing is forgotten — are qualities that are extremely relevant to effective leadership in a political system that’s built to favor transactional relationships over big ideas.

I’m interested in a president who listens, who is consensus building, who is flexible and creative, and who remains persistent despite the great quantity of hate coming her way. I'm enthused by what I now know about Hillary's style of leadership. It is worth noting that all of these Mediator qualities are also seen as traditional female qualities (female leadership strengths tend to be undervalued, BTW; also see an unpacking of the complicated concept of female ‘traits’ in Judith Baer’s book Our Lives Before the Law: Constructing a Feminist Jurisprudence). However, great Mediator traits aren't solely ascribable to females, in fact there are more males in the Alternative Dispute Resolution professions in the US than there are females.

I am thus not persuaded that it’s simply Hillary’s femaleness that informs this mediation-type leadership style; women have been shown to take all kinds of approaches to accomplish mediated results. I think Hillary has simply discovered the method of governance that works for her. I am inspired by that method.

Now that I'm learning about mediation, I'm likely to favor it over the exorbitant cost of litigation. I’m similarly inclined, based on similar learning, to favor a mediating president over a fighter who may cost the country a lot in the long-run.

I am now overwhelmingly on board with scores of other women who support Hillary. I’ll sing that fight song with you every time, Ms. Clinton. There’s that darn lump in my throat again.