Is feminism sexist?

While British feminist campaigners explicitly try to address the gender iniquities faced by all, sho

Does feminism discriminate against men? Tom Martin thinks so. Today, the former MSc student at the gender studies institute of the London School of Economics sued the university for misleading advertising and breach of equality legislation, on the basis that the course promotes a "sexist agenda".

Martin, who has raised £4,300 to fund his case at the central London county court, argues that feminism makes women think of themselves as victims, and that it promotes a discourse which "excludes mention of men" and the inequalities they face, such as increased risk of homelessness and subjection to hypergamy (gold-digging), which his website claims is "prevalent among most of the world's women".

Martin would like to see the gender studies course incorporate male studies, a burgeoning field in America backed by the likes of Warren Farrell, the controversial author of such books as The Myth of Male Power. A substantial part of the evidence that he will be using for his case is the language of the core texts for the LSE course, which he believes establish an "all women good, all men bad" binary, while research that is "articulate and forthright on men's problems" is systematically blocked.

But is feminism sexist? Admittedly it often overlooks the M-word in policy papers focusing on inequalities that predominantly affect women. While British feminist writers and campaigners from the F-Word blog to UK Feminista explicitly try to engage men and address the gender iniquities faced by all, should men's rights ever be feminism's responsibility?

It seems obvious that liberating women from gender-based discrimination would help men, too - apart from appealing to a sense of justice, how else can house husbandry be sold, if not as an antidote to the male burden of being breadwinner?

Men may not be the enemy, yet with so few people prepared to identify as feminist in the first place, many "feminisms" are understandably wary of providing a critical male platform that might be used against women. Although Martin advocates joint custody rights, which the coalition are moving towards, he holds provocative views on "exaggerated" rape statistics and the role that women's shelters play in exacerbating sex segregation. He also dismisses the notion of patriarchy.

And he presumably hopes his lawsuit, if successful, will create a precedent for anti-feminist discrimination cases.

Nichi Hodgson is a 28-year-old freelance journalist specialising in sexual politics, law and culture.

Nichi Hodgson is a writer and broadcaster specialising in sexual politics, censorship, and  human rights. Her first book, Bound To You, published by Hodder & Stoughton, is out now. She tweets @NichiHodgson.

This article first appeared in the 12 March 2012 issue of the New Statesman, The weaker sex

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A swimming pool and a bleeding toe put my medical competency in doubt

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Sometimes the search engine wins. 

The brutal heatwave affecting southern Europe this summer has become known among locals as “Lucifer”. Having just returned from Italy, I fully understand the nickname. An early excursion caused the beginnings of sunstroke, so we abandoned plans to explore the cultural heritage of the Amalfi region and strayed no further than five metres from the hotel pool for the rest of the week.

The children were delighted, particularly my 12-year-old stepdaughter, Gracie, who proceeded to spend hours at a time playing in the water. Towelling herself after one long session, she noticed something odd.

“What’s happened there?” she asked, holding her foot aloft in front of my face.

I inspected the proffered appendage: on the underside of her big toe was an oblong area of glistening red flesh that looked like a chunk of raw steak.

“Did you injure it?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

I shrugged and said she must have grazed it. She wasn’t convinced, pointing out that she would remember if she had done that. She has great faith in plasters, though, and once it was dressed she forgot all about it. I dismissed it, too, assuming it was one of those things.

By the end of the next day, the pulp on the underside of all of her toes looked the same. As the doctor in the family, I felt under some pressure to come up with an explanation. I made up something about burns from the hot paving slabs around the pool. Gracie didn’t say as much, but her look suggested a dawning scepticism over my claims to hold a medical degree.

The next day, Gracie and her new-found holiday playmate, Eve, abruptly terminated a marathon piggy-in-the-middle session in the pool with Eve’s dad. “Our feet are bleeding,” they announced, somewhat incredulously. Sure enough, bright-red blood was flowing, apparently painlessly, from the bottoms of their big toes.

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Often, what patients discover on the internet causes them undue alarm, and our role is to provide context and reassurance. But not infrequently, people come across information that outstrips our knowledge. On my return from our room with fresh supplies of plasters, my wife looked up from her sun lounger with an air of quiet amusement.

“It’s called ‘pool toe’,” she said, handing me her iPhone. The page she had tracked down described the girls’ situation exactly: friction burns, most commonly seen in children, caused by repetitive hopping about on the abrasive floors of swimming pools. Doctors practising in hot countries must see it all the time. I doubt it presents often to British GPs.

I remained puzzled about the lack of pain. The injuries looked bad, but neither Gracie nor Eve was particularly bothered. Here the internet drew a blank, but I suspect it has to do with the “pruning” of our skin that we’re all familiar with after a soak in the bath. This only occurs over the pulps of our fingers and toes. It was once thought to be caused by water diffusing into skin cells, making them swell, but the truth is far more fascinating.

The wrinkling is an active process, triggered by immersion, in which the blood supply to the pulp regions is switched off, causing the skin there to shrink and pucker. This creates the biological equivalent of tyre treads on our fingers and toes and markedly improves our grip – of great evolutionary advantage when grasping slippery fish in a river, or if trying to maintain balance on slick wet rocks.

The flip side of this is much greater friction, leading to abrasion of the skin through repeated micro-trauma. And the lack of blood flow causes nerves to shut down, depriving us of the pain that would otherwise alert us to the ongoing tissue damage. An adaptation that helped our ancestors hunt in rivers proves considerably less use on a modern summer holiday.

I may not have seen much of the local heritage, but the trip to Italy taught me something new all the same. 

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear