Can She Be a Woman and a Feminist?

Can she be a woman and a feminist at the same time?

Feminist firebrand Jessica Valenti is divided. Her feminism tells her one thing; her experience tells her another.

Having been leered at ever since she was a preteen, Valenti finds that now, at the ripe old age of 36, men on the subway and street no longer notice her in quite the same way.  That is, she has become nearly invisible to the dread male gaze. You know which one… the one that sees women as sexual objects.

In her words:

Being on the subways and streets of New York while female used to mean walking through a veritable gauntlet of harassment and catcalls. But lately, a curious thing has happened – my world is a much quieter place. The comments and lascivious stares from men have faded away the older I’ve gotten, leaving an understandable sense of relief. But alongside that is a slightly embarrassing feeling of insecurity that, with every year that goes by, I become more and more invisible to men.

From the time I was 11 or 12 years old – when I began taking the train to school – I’ve been on the receiving end of some of the worst things men say to girls and young women. There was the man in a business suit who told me to “take care of those titties for me”; the man who – when I was in seventh grade – masturbated in front of me on the subway platform near my home; the man who walked by me in the street, leaned in close, and whispered “I want to lick you” so close to my ear that I could feel his hot breath.

Such harassment is grotesque and inexcusable. But, is it congenitally male or is it culturally determined? Better yet, is it endemic to some cultures and not others? Is it especially rife in a multicultural haven like New York.

People who come to New York City from other parts of America have often noted that New Yorkers are rude and crude and lewd. It appears that, what with so many different cultures, some people assume that there are no rules and no norms of proper behavior. Surely, the men who harass preteen girls are not following codes of gentlemanly conduct.

Then again, some cultures are more abusive toward women than others. As you know, when Sweden decided that it needed to overcome its whiteness it invited in a considerable number of Somali Muslims. It soon became the rape capital of the world. One also notes that women in Egypt suffer constant sexual harassment. There must be something in the water.

Are all men just leering monsters that exist to abuse and harass women? Valenti offers one reason that suggests otherwise:

Sure, there are plenty of reasons besides my age that street harassment has waned over the years. I’m more likely to be walking around with my four-year-old daughter than not these days, and hopefully even harassers have some sense of propriety. 

One applauds the sense of male propriety and wishes that there were far more of it. Since one has been arguing in favor of it for many years now, one does not feel that one has shirked one’s duty to encourage it.

Unfortunately, culture warriors have been condemning all forms of male propriety, especially courtesy toward women, as sexist condescension. Among those who almost certainly have been leading the charge has been… Jessica Valenti.

As the old saying goes, be careful what you wish for.

Be that as it may, invisibility is an issue for women of a certain age. Many women can tell you the moment when they realized that they men no longer noticed them the same way on the street.

Valenti explains it in the Guardian:

Being on the subways and streets of New York while female used to mean walking through a veritable gauntlet of harassment and catcalls. But lately, a curious thing has happened – my world is a much quieter place. The comments and lascivious stares from men have faded away the older I’ve gotten, leaving an understandable sense of relief. But alongside that is a slightly embarrassing feeling of insecurity that, with every year that goes by, I become more and more invisible to men.

Obviously, this “invisibility” correlates with the decline in female fertility, something that happens after a woman surpasses the age of 35. It’s Darwinian and it’s biological. This tells us that biology has a powerful and ineluctable influence on sexual attraction. One understands that feminists believe that biology has next-to-nothing to do with it because they insist that sexual attraction is a social construct.

For her part Valenti struggles valiantly against reality and attributes her sensitivity to her upbringing:

But when you’re brought up to feel that the most important thing you can be is attractive to men, the absence of their attention – even negative attention – can feel distressing. Have I reached my “last fuckable day” already, at 36 years old? (I’m reminded of a Vanity Fair profile of the gorgeous actress Rose Byrne where the reporter noted with surprise that Byrne showed no embarrassment at admitting she was – gasp! – 35 years old.)

One cringes at the vulgarity and one suspects that it does not make anyone more fuckable. Not, that is, in the good sense of the word.

From the obscene to the sublime, one notes a more salient psychological point. Despite the protestations of generations of therapists our sense of who we are depends less on how we feel about ourselves and more on how others see us and acknowledge our presence.

Surely, there’s more to it than sex. But sex certainly matters in the equation.

Women often have a very good sense of how they would like the world to see them, ranging from ladylike, to businesslike to sexually adventurous to unattached to attached. They put together outfits that are designed to attract one kind of look, but not others. It does not always go as planned, but if no one sees them as they want to be seen, they feel discomfited and disconcerted.

This is not to say the leering and jeering is acceptable at any level. But, apparently in today’s New York (especially on the subways) that is what passes for affirmation of a woman’s sexual attractiveness. One would much prefer that it were otherwise, because the world would be a better place if men could learn to add some respect to their appreciation of a well-turned ankle.

One hopes, but against hope. In a diverse and normless world, it’s probably a pipe dream.