Why "fun feminism" should be consigned to the rubbish bin

If men like a particular brand of feminism, it means it is not working.

What is feminism? A political movement to overthrow male supremacy, according to us radicals. These days, however, young women (and men) are increasingly fed the line from "fun feminists" that it is about individual power, rather than a collective movement.

Caitlin Moran, whose best-selling book has made her into one of the country's best-known fun feminists, is an apologist for porn and wasted an opportunity during a feminist debate on Newsnight to joke about cardigans. The writer Natasha Walter claims that being able to wear trousers and drink beer on her own means sexism is dead, and other "feminist-lite" types can be found blogging nonsense about the need to include men in our movement and not offending the poor dears with mentions of rape and domestic violence.

We need to bring back the radical edge to feminism, and do away with any notion that slutwalking, lap dancing, sex working or Burkha-wearing is liberation for women. If men like a particular brand of feminism, it means it is not working. "Fun feminism" should be consigned to the rubbish bin along with the Lib Dem party.

I am tired of being told by so-called third-wavers that my feminism is fascist, old hat, irrelevant and man hating. It is nothing personal to me; just that feminism is something that has been central to my life since I was a teenager. I do not want to see its radical edge co-opted by over-privileged, self-serving faux feminists.

These "fun feminists", who have little or no idea about the theory or practice of this movement, take advantage of the benefits that radicals have fought long and hard for, whilst contributing nothing. In fact, they are damaging to other women, and are destroying progress won by those of us who do not weep when men disapprove of our views.

So keen are the funbots on not upsetting men, they betray those second wavers who made great sacrifices to break the silence on male violence towards women. Heterosexual women know full well that most men run a mile away from proper, radical feminism, so they chose to spout the type of nonsense about lipstick and burlesque that the boys just love to hear.

It is not enough to call yourself a feminist because you are a strong woman. Thatcher was an enemy to feminism, as is Nadine Dorries. Like other liberation movements, feminism has an ideology and a goal. It is not about personal liberty and freedom, but the emancipation from oppression and tyranny for ALL women, whatever our race or class.

Some younger activists are radical in their approach, such as those who organise the annual Reclaim the Night marches across the UK, but increasingly, so-called feminist blogs are full of articles on how radicals are responsible for creating an image of feminism as being "against men". Did anyone notice white people, who were by definition responsible for the introduction and maintenance of apartheid in South Africa, being placated and excused by black civil rights activists? Do members of the hard-left doff their caps at the ruling classes in the hope that they will "keep them on board"?

During a panel discussion at a feminist conference last year there was a massive kerfuffle when the critic Bidisha dared to suggest that being a feminist is belonging to the "girl's team". Imagine white folk telling black anti-racist activists that their movement is ineffective because white people are not given equal say about strategies for change.

"Fun feminism" isn't feminism at all. It is about the rights of the individual. In the "fun feminist" world, anything goes, no matter how destructive or harmful it may be to the individual or to women as a class.

For heterosexual women, feminism can be a nightmare. Women are the only oppressed group who are expected to love their oppressor. But please stop trying to play nice. Until we overthrow male supremacy and admit that male power is the problem, not radical feminism, nothing will change.

Julie Bindel is a journalist and feminist campaigner. She tweets at @bindelj

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How to think about the EU result if you voted Remain

A belief in democracy means accepting the crowd is wiser than you are as an individual. 

I voted Remain, I feel sick about this result and its implications for what’s to come. But I’m a believer in democracy. This post is about how to reconcile those two things (it’s a bit unstructured because I’m working it out as I go, and I’m not sure I agree with all of it).

Democracy isn’t just fairer than other systems of governance, it’s smarter. It leads to better decisions and better outcomes, on average and over the long run, than countries that are run by autocrats or councils of wise men with jobs for life. It is simply the best way we have yet devised of solving complex problems involving many people. On that topic, if you’re not averse to some rather dense and technical prose, read this post or seek out this book. But the central argument is that democracy is the best way of harnessing ‘cognitive diversity’ — bringing to bear many different perspectives on a problem, each of which are very partial in themselves, but add up to something more than any one wise person.

I don’t think you can truly be a believer in democracy unless you accept that the people, collectively, are smarter than you are. That’s hard. It’s easy to say you believe in the popular will, right up until the popular will does something REALLY STUPID. The hard thing is not just to ‘accept the result’ but to accept that the majority who voted for that result know or understand something better than you. But they do. You are just one person, after all, and try as you might to expand your perspective with reading (and some try harder than others) you can’t see everything. So if a vote goes against you, you need to reflect on the possibility you got it wrong in some way. If I look at the results of past general elections and referendums, for instance, I now see they were all pretty much the right calls, including those where I voted the other way.

One way to think about the vote is that it has forced a slightly more equitable distribution of anxiety and alienation upon the country. After Thursday, I feel more insecure about my future, and that of my family. I also feel like a foreigner in my own country — that there’s this whole massive swathe of people out there who don’t think like me at all and probably don’t like me. I feel like a big decision about my life has been imposed on me by nameless people out there. But of course, this is exactly how many of those very people have been feeling for years, and at a much higher level of intensity. Democracy forces us to try on each other’s clothes. I could have carried on quite happily ignoring the unhappiness of much of the country but I can’t ignore this.

I’m seeing a lot of people on Twitter and in the press bemoaning how ill-informed people were, talking about a ‘post-factual democracy’. Well, maybe, though I think that requires further investigation - democracy has always been a dirty dishonest business. But surely the great thing about Thursday that so many people voted — including many, many people who might have felt disenfranchised from a system that hasn’t been serving them well. I’m not sure you’re truly a democrat if you don’t take at least a tiny bit of delight in seeing people so far from the centres of power tipping the polity upside down and giving it a shake. Would it have been better or worse for the country if Remain had won because only informed middle-class people voted? It might have felt better for people like me, it might actually have been better, economically, for everyone. But it would have indicated a deeper rot in our democracy than do the problems with our national information environment (which I accept are real).

I’m not quite saying ‘the people are always right’ — at least, I don’t think it was wrong to vote to stay in the EU. I still believe we should have Remained and I’m worried about what we’ve got ourselves into by getting out. But I am saying they may have been right to use this opportunity — the only one they were given — to send an unignorable signal to the powers-that-be that things aren’t working. You might say general elections are the place for that, but our particular system isn’t suited to change things on which there is a broad consensus between the two main parties.

Ian Leslie is a writer, author of CURIOUS: The Desire to Know and Why Your Future Depends On It, and writer/presenter of BBC R4's Before They Were Famous.