A contestant in a beauty pageant. Photo: Getty
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Rebecca Reilly-Cooper on Naomi Wolf: How the beautiful are damned

Naomi Wolf's anger is animated by the question: how much more could talented, ambitious women achieve, if they could only free themselves from the chains of beauty?

This piece is part of the New Statesman's "Rereading the Second Wave" series. Read the other essays here.

 

Does The Beauty Myth count as a work of the feminist Second Wave? It was published in 1991, at the tail-end of what is generally regarded as the Second Wave; in the same year, Susan Faludi's Backlash was published, detailing the revolt against the gains made by Second Wave activism that was already well underway by the 1980s.

But if we understand the Second Wave not just in chronological terms, but also by in terms of the methods employed and the issues addressed, then it makes sense to see The Beauty Myth as a work of Second Wave feminism. It is clear from Naomi Wolf's writing that she considers the book to be a continuation of the themes of the Second Wave, and as a direct descendant of Betty Friedan's The Feminine Mystique. The beauty myth arose to fill the vacuum left after the Second Wave had chipped away at the foundations of traditional forms of patriarchal control, and the main pillars of the feminine mystique crumbled.

Wolf argues that in the decades since Friedan's work was released, feminists had had some successes in exposing as fictions many of the noble lies that had functioned to maintain the patriarchal social order. Ideas about women's inherent biological frailty and anaesthetic sexuality, about the nature of women's work and about children's absolute dependence on the mother - ideas that had been presented as self-evidently true and determined by nature - were dismantled.

As a result, women became visible in the public sphere and vocal in their demands: for equal opportunities to jobs and positions of power, for equal pay and an equal share of the burdens of domestic labour, for satisfying sex and egalitarian relationships. And in response, the one remaining pillar propping up the façade of women's natural inferiority and subordinate value was strengthened and reinforced. That pillar was the beauty myth - a rigid set of norms and rules about women's physical appearance, presented as natural, obligatory, and the sole path to power, status, wealth, and love. In prose that simmers and bubbles with righteous fury, Wolf examines the many forms the ideology of beauty takes, and the myriad ways in which it operates to curtail women's hard-won freedom and equality.

In the sphere of work, women's competence is frequently assessed by their success in adhering to norms governing beauty, and their physical appearance is used to justify both discrimination and harassment. In popular culture, only those women who are considered sufficiently beautiful are permitted to be publicly visible, so the images we see and the narratives we hear are of those who conform to the socially prescribed ideal of perfection. The aesthetic ideals and values of pornography seep into mainstream culture and advertising, presenting an alienating and restrictive view of women's sexuality that is tied to its rigid and limited vision of beauty. As the myth flourishes, so its depictions of ideal of beauty become more extreme and its requirements more rigorous. Its demands are presented as having near-divine authority, providing the only path to salvation for the flawed, fallen female. Women learn that no matter how successful they are, whatever else they accomplish, they must above all be young, beautiful and thin. The rational response to such imperatives is for women to purchase expensive but ineffective lotions and potions, to submit to constant hunger, and to undergo invasive, painful and dangerous procedures in pursuit of this ideal - because the alternative is lack of status, lack of wealth, lack of sexual fulfilment, lack of love. To be not beautiful is to be not visible, and to be not visible is to have one's needs and desires unacknowledged and unnourished.

The Beauty Myth was one of the first feminist books I ever read, and at the time it had a huge impact on me, playing a significant role in my feminist awakening. In retrospect, the reasons for this are obvious. As a privileged, ambitious young woman, it was with respect to the requirements of beauty that I most keenly felt the injustices wreaked by gender. I was fortunate in nearly every way in which a young woman could hope to be - white, middle-class and relatively affluent, I had never known any of the serious hardships that form the substance of so many women's daily lives. I was reasonably intelligent, came from a nurturing and supportive family, and was raised with the expectation that I could achieve whatever I desired, that there should be no limits on my aspirations.

And yet, despite all of this good fortune, I wasn't as happy as I should have been. I wasn't as confident as I should have been. And this was almost entirely down to the fact that I didn't believe I was thin enough, and therefore knew I wasn't beautiful enough. It didn't matter to me that I was smart, healthy, well-off, and privileged across pretty much every dimension. I wasn't thin, so I wasn't beautiful, so I was filled with self-disgust and self-loathing, and paralysed by the lack of self-confidence that so often plagues women when the world is telling them they are taking up too much space. Reading The Beauty Myth at the age of twenty brought immediate consolation. I wasn't alone. I wasn't crazy. I wasn't unusually weak-minded or weak-bodied. My feelings weren't deviant or pathological. They were a normal - and rational - response to the reality of living as a woman under an oppressive set of beauty requirements. The relief was immense.

Twenty-three years since its publication, is there still any reason for feminists to read The Beauty Myth? Re-reading it now, I think we can answer that question with a resounding 'yes'. There is much in the book that leaps out at the contemporary reader as true and relevant, even startlingly prescient, given what we now know about how the beauty industry has developed since it was written. There has been little to hearten the feminist in the sphere of beauty since the book was published, and so many of the trends that Wolf identifies have not only persisted, but accelerated, in the intervening years. The cosmetic surgery industry is now worth £2.3 billion a year in the UK alone, and as Wolf predicted, ever more extreme procedures are being dreamt up and marketed as cures for deformities we previously didn't know we had. In 1991, could even Wolf have imagined that within twenty years, buttock implants and labiaplasty would be offered to healthy women? Or that women could have their faces injected with chemical fillers in salons on the high street during their lunch hours? The ritual shaming and public humiliation for the purposes of entertainment of women deemed insufficiently attractive has reached new heights in television programmes such as Ten Years Younger or The Swan. Popular culture has developed an entirely new lexicon with which to pathologise the normal variation found in healthy women's bodies: in the 1990s, we were content to lambast women for their wobbly tummies and fleshy thighs; to this we have added muffin tops, bingo wings and cankles as new sources of self-loathing and social opprobrium.

The women's magazines, singled out by Wolf for particularly vociferous criticism, have made their attacks on women's bodies even more openly hostile and explicit, circling the cellulite and magnifying the stretch marks, just in case you missed them. The growth of digital technology and proliferation of new forms of media means that images of beauty and glamour, as well as pornography, are becoming ever more ubiquitous, while the faces of women who don't fit the beauty mold are disappearing from view, being forcibly retired and replaced by faces with fewer lines. As in 1991, so now, women are spending ever more of their time and resources striving to meet the increasingly exacting ideals of the beauty myth, and exercising a rigorous discipline on their bodies, trying to starve and beat them into submission. But despite all this effort and expenditure, women aren't getting any happier or more comfortable with their bodies, in large part because the goalposts keep shifting - or shrinking. The ideals of the beauty myth aren't intended to be realisable. They are designed to keep women in a state of perpetual anxiety, engaged in constant warfare with their recalcitrant flesh.

Given all of this, it would be easy to conclude that the beauty myth has won the day. The ideals of beauty have proliferated, and women seem ever more willing to comply with their dictates. Even among feminists, there is a suggestion now that to talk critically about beauty and appearance is a bit unfashionable and outdated.  One reason for this is that these are, to a large extent, the concerns of the privileged. If the biggest difficulty you face as a woman is the social pressure to conform to a restrictive ideal of beauty - rather than, say, worrying about how you're going to feed and care for your children, or protect yourself from partner violence - then you are pretty privileged.

Wolf is often explicit that she is primarily talking about middle-class, high-achieving women, who are failing to realise their full potential and to make the most of the liberation the Second Wave promised to deliver. Her anger is animated by the question: how much more could these talented, ambitious women achieve, if they could only free themselves from the chains of beauty? When so many women are struggling with the much more urgent, fundamental problems of just keeping themselves and their children safe and well, contemporary feminists might be inclined to dismiss beauty as a trivial matter, and look upon works such as The Beauty Myth with annoyance, even faint embarrassment. And not only does Wolf have nothing to say about how these exacting beauty norms are experienced by those who cannot afford to comply with them, there is also very little discussion about the inherently white, Anglo-American/European nature of our standard beliefs about beauty, and the impact of this on women of colour. How much more painful must the beauty myth be for those women for whom it is even more out of reach, and requires even more alienation from their bodies and identities, than for the white middle-class women Wolf has in mind?

These are valid and important points, and feminism should certainly address these issues. But it is not a very compelling criticism of The Beauty Myth to point out that the book isn't about everything, that there are other feminist concerns that it does not touch on. The book would undoubtedly be enhanced by a more in-depth discussion of the damaging effects on women of colour of the fact that white beauty norms are presented as neutral and universal; although, as a white Jewish woman, Wolf may have felt not best placed to explore those questions at length. Feminists of colour have written extensively about the 'whitewashing' of fashion magazines and the beauty industry, and continuing this analysis is an essential part of deepening and strengthening a feminist critique of the beauty myth. But while it might be correct to say that a preoccupation with issues of appearance is often indicative of a certain amount of privilege, we shouldn't conclude that it's therefore a problem not worthy of feminist concern. Feminism is a vibrant, pluralistic movement, made up of diverse women working towards a variety of goals. And we are all of us capable of caring about several things at once - we can want male violence against women to be eradicated, want childcare to be made more accessible and affordable, and want women to be freed from the shackles of an oppressive beauty regime. Despite their seeming triviality, appearance and beauty norms are a legitimate feminist concern because they make women worse off - physically, emotionally, financially - than equivalently situated men.

The Beauty Myth is an impassioned polemic, and in many places the analysis is irritatingly vague, with rigour giving way to rhetoric. As was widely noted at the time of its publication, many of the statistics offered seem dubious at best, so this is not the place to come for an accurate repository of data about cosmetic surgery or eating disorders. More frustrating for me is the lack of any kind of detailed or sustained engagement with important ideas surrounding choice and blame. Wolf is clear that individual women are not to be blamed for the decisions they make in order to survive in a society that judges their worth by their beauty. There is an essential point here that is often lost in much third-wave feminist discourse, which has unfortunately absorbed a neo-liberal distaste for being seen to express judgment of individual choices. Criticising the existence of a practice or institution, whether that's the monogamous nuclear family, pornography, or high-heeled shoes, is not to criticise or assign blame to the woman who chooses to participate in these practices. Every woman makes compromises every day to cope, and to try to flourish as best she can, under the restrictive conditions the existing social structure presents. Perhaps she gets pleasure and enjoyment from these things. She should not be castigated for doing so, and this is something that Wolf is careful to emphasise. But this does not mean that her choices are feminist choices, just because she chose them, or that because her participation brings her enjoyment, the practice itself is beyond feminist critique. Nor does the fact that a woman would make a particular choice against the backdrop of the beauty myth necessarily mean that we best respect her autonomy by protecting that choice.

What is needed here is a rigorous and sustained engagement with these questions: what conditions would need to be met, for a woman's choice to undergo cosmetic surgery to reflect her autonomous will, rather than a coerced response when faced with unappealing alternatives? When might we be justified in interfering to prevent a woman from making a choice that will be harmful to her, if that choice is shaped by oppressive gender norms? And what should the feminist who recognises the pernicious nature of the beauty myth, but also wants to survive living under it intact, decide to do? While Wolf shows an awareness of the importance of all these questions, she gives us little guidance about how to answer them.

Wolf's diagnosis of a contemporary social malady strikes the reader as just as true and relevant as it was twenty-three years ago. Women's potential is constrained and their self-realisation fettered by this new form of mystique, that makes being beautiful above all else a moral imperative, and imposes heavy social sanctions on those who will not or cannot comply. Fittingly, one solution Wolf calls for is intergenerational collaboration - to restore the links between younger and older women, and provide a new generation of women with role models and mentors. One of the successes of the beauty backlash has been to pit women against one another, and to encourage women of different generations to view one another as a threat. We have to resist that move, and recognise that as young feminists, we have much to learn from our foremothers. In Wolf's words:

It would be stupid and sad if the women of the near future had to fight the same old battles all over again from the beginning just because of young women's isolation from older women. It would be pathetic if young women had to go back to the beginning because we were taken in by an unoriginal twenty-year campaign to portray the women's movement as "not sexy", a campaign aimed to help young women forget whose battles made sex sexy in the first place.

Rebecca Reilly-Cooper is a lecturer in Political Theory at the University of Warwick. She tweets as @boodleoops.

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Owen Smith interview: “I’m pretty red”

The Labour leadership challenger is struggling to win over a left suspicious of his past. 

The south Wales valleys embody the history of the labour movement: its victories, its defeats, its heroes, its villains. It was this resonant location that Owen Smith chose for his speech on the morning of 22 August. Labour Party members had that day begun voting on whether the 46-year-old Pontypridd MP should replace Jeremy Corbyn as their leader.

“Our history, our party was literally hewed from the hillsides around where we sit today,” Smith told a small audience at the Ely Valley Miners Welfare Club in Tonyrefail, a short distance from his home. The Welshman cited the Taff Vale judgment of 1901, which ruled that trade unions could be sued for losses caused by industrial action. It was this decision that spurred on the establishment of a Labour Party in parliament to repeal the law (as it would do in 1906 in alliance with the Liberal government).

Smith spoke later of marching with miners from the Maerdy Colliery as a 14-year-old, on the day they returned to work at the end of the 1984-85 strike. “I saw that they were utterly unbowed,” he recalled. “But they were ultimately defeated.”

Such moments, he concluded, proved the need for Labour to win power and to maintain “a powerful voice in parliament” – something he believes Jeremy Corbyn is incapable of providing. On 28 June, less than a year after Corbyn’s landslide victory, 172 MPs (81 per cent of the Parliamentary Labour Party) endorsed a no-confidence motion in him. Sixty-five shadow ministers, including Smith (who was then the shadow work and pensions secretary), resigned from the front bench.

Yet though Smith enjoys the overwhelming backing of the PLP, few believe he will prevail among members. He achieved only 53 constituency nominations, against the leader’s 285. On social media, where internal party contests are increasingly decided, Smith’s reach is minuscule compared to that of Corbyn (who has 795,000 Facebook fans to his 14,000).

The day before Smith spoke in south Wales, he won the endorsement of Sadiq Khan, the Mayor of London and Labour’s most senior elected politician. He was subsequently also backed by the Scottish Labour leader, Kezia Dugdale. Neil Kinnock and Ed Miliband have trumpeted his cause. Yet Smith-supporting MPs fear that such declarations count for little. “It’s like the Remain campaign and the Archbishop of Canterbury,” one told me, suggesting that Labour members, like Leave voters, ”weren’t listening” to such grandees.

Corbyn’s allies and foes alike are already preparing for the aftermath of the leader’s anticipated victory. The former warn that rebel MPs put themselves at risk of deselection by members. In response, some have threatened privately to form a parliamentary breakaway group and bid for the status of the official opposition.

Smith, unsurprisingly, insists that he can win. “I think the CLP [Constituency Labour Party] nominations don’t truly reflect the views in CLPs,” he told me when we spoke after his 20-minute address. The challenger, dressed in his favoured combination of dark suit and open-necked white shirt, welcomed the black coffee proffered by his aide. “They reflect the fact that some of the people who are new members and are supportive of Jeremy were very organised . . .

“Anybody who knows the Labour Party knows that selections are very often won by the sleepers: the people who don’t go to CLP meetings and don’t necessarily shout from the rooftops.” Smith’s hopes rest on those who share Oscar Wilde’s view: “The problem with socialism is that it takes up too many spare evenings.”

Cartoon: George Leigh

Smith first publicly revealed his leadership ambitions in an interview with me back in January. “It would be an incredible honour and privilege,” he said. I wrote then of a widespread view among Labour MPs that the next leader “will at least need to be from the party’s soft left to be acceptable to the party membership”. When the rebellion against Corbyn came, it was this consideration that proved decisive. Smith was embraced as a Miliband-esque socialist and a parliamentary “clean skin”, untainted by the New Labour years, having been elected in 2010. By contrast, his initial rival, Angela Eagle, had been an MP since 1992 and voted for the Iraq War.

However, Smith proved to have a more ambiguous past than some of his backers anticipated. Corbyn’s supporters swiftly unearthed a series of interviews from 2006 in which their opponent made a notably centrist pitch. Smith, then a by-election candidate in Blaenau Gwent, south Wales, defended Tony Blair (suggesting that they differed only over the Iraq War), supported private-sector involvement in the National Health Service and praised city academies. “I’m not someone, frankly, who gets terribly wound up about some of the ideological nuances,” he told Wales Online.

Since then, he has struggled to reconcile these positions with his increasingly left-wing programme: opposing private provision in the NHS, returning academy schools to local authority control, banning zero-hours contracts and imposing a wealth tax of 1 per cent.

“To be honest, my opponents have extrapolated rather a lot in an attempt to brand me as a ‘Blairite wolf in sheep’s clothing’,” Smith told me. “Well, I’m nothing of the sort, I’ve always been a democratic socialist and I always will be. My views haven’t really changed at all, I’m someone who has been on the left of the party.

“My dad [the Welsh historian Dai Smith] is someone who’s been on the left of the Labour movement all his life. I’m someone who’s been surrounded by people who’ve been on the left of the Labour movement all their lives. It should come as no surprise that I’ve come out of that background and I’m pretty red. Because I am.”

Yet a former shadow cabinet colleague told me that Smith did not stand out as “a radical” in meetings: “The only time that I remember him becoming really animated was over further tax-raising powers for Scotland and the implications for Wales.”

What Smith believes in most, some say, is himself. The shadow chancellor, John McDonnell, described him as “one of the most ambitious career politicians I’ve met”. Others have dismissed him as a “Big Pharma lobbyist” because of his past as head of policy and government relations for Pfizer.

“I’m not ashamed that I had a life outside politics before I became an MP,” Smith told me. “Yes, I worked for Pfizer and I also worked as a BBC journalist and as an adviser to the last Labour government on the peace process in Northern Ireland.

“People don’t want career politicians – they want men and women who have had experience of working in business and in the different sectors that make up our economy. Critics may use it against me, but my time in business has helped me understand what’s wrong with it and how we can make it work better.”

Corbyn’s supporters, however, allege that Smith’s left-wing pledges would not withstand contact with centrist colleagues. The degree to which the challenger has rebutted this charge shows that he recognises its potency.

He has offered to make Corbyn party president or chair if he wins, to allow Corbyn to act as “a guardian of Labour’s values”. In his speech, Smith vowed to increase member influence by making conference votes binding on the leadership.

Throughout the 1980s, another soft-left Welshman, Neil Kinnock, struggled to assert authority as the hard left retained control of vital bodies. Smith’s proposals risk replicating this conflict. But he told me that he would respect Labour’s conference even if it endorsed stances such as Trident abolition (Smith joined CND as a teenager but later renounced unilateralism). “I do think in order to reassure members that, under my leadership, we would listen hard to them and act in accordance with their views, conference does need to become sovereign once more,” he said.

Tony Benn’s dream of internal democracy appeared to be within reach. I asked Smith whether he would support other reforms such as a reduced MP nomination threshold for leadership candidates (Corbyn allies have proposed a cut from 15 per cent to 5 per cent). “All of these things can be debated,” he told me. “I’m not sure it should be 5 per cent: I need to look at it when we get closer to it. But I am convinced that the left needs to be able to put up candidates in this contest, I’ve always felt that.”

Smith’s assertion is contradicted by a colleague who described him as having been “furious”, “apoplectic” when Corbyn made the ballot last year (he supported Andy Burnham’s campaign).

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Smith is less equiovcal over the mandatory reselection of MPs. “That would be a really retrograde step for the party,” he told me. “It would be an uncomradely way for us to do business.” He is critical of the Corbyn-aligned group Momentum, some of whose members are spearheading deselection efforts. “I fear an attitude within Momentum that they are a separate organisation and they shouldn’t be,” he told me. “It’s hard to argue that they’re loyal and supportive if they’re organising a bloomin’ great really in the same town at the same time in competition to the Labour Party” (the group will hold its own four-day conference alongside Labour’s in Liverpool).

Some of those close to Corbyn, such as John McDonnell, have unhesitatingly described themselves as Marxists (in 2006, the shadow chancellor named Marx, Lenin and Trotsky as his “most significant” intellectual influences). I asked Smith whether he believed Labour could encompass such views. “Yes, I think we’ve always been a broad church and there have always been people who’ve come from that tradition,” he replied. “There are two broad traditions: the extra-parliamentary tradition, that has always seen parliament as a compromise and parliamentary socialism as a compromise, from [the trade unionist and theorist] Noah Ablett here in south Wales with The Miners’ Next Step through to Ed Miliband’s dad [Ralph, a Marxist historian] ... and the mainstream social democratic tradition that I came from.”

He added: “We’ve had this battle in the Labour Party over the ages, haven’t we? Except now I think it’s more serious because there is a very real danger, with Labour at such a low ebb and politics fragmented more broadly, and so many more parties and so many options for people and such a lesser tribal attachment to the Labour Party, that we can’t afford those fractures.

"If we splinter, there’s lot of other places for people to put their vote.”

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Though they will not say so publicly, some of Smith’s supporters believe Labour would remain unelectable under his leadership. A former shadow cabinet minister told me that he was offering a “warmed-up Ed Milibandism, which was rejected by the voters”. Smith naturally contests this analysis. “I don’t think that we lost the last election because we were too left-wing,” he said. “The proof is that the Tories have engaged in all sorts of these policies ... Theresa May’s opening speech upon becoming leader was to talk about social injustice, economic insecurity, lack of security in the workplace. Labour values, Labour words in a Tory mouth, evidence that the broad story we’re telling about Britain is right.”

Smith said that, unlike Corbyn, he would resign if he became leader and lost a confidence vote by MPs. “Yes - I would [resign]. We are a party that believes in parliamentary democracy and, as such, it is only right that the leader commands the support of his or her colleagues in the Commons.”

Should Corbyn win the contest, as expected, Smith will not return to the shadow cabinet but act as “a loyal backbencher”.  He pledges to resist any breakaway: “I'm Labour, I've always been Labour and I will never stop being Labour," he said. 

Speaking of his fear that Corbyn would seek to remain leader even if the party lost the next general election, he said: “I’m deeply worried about it. I think he’s determined to hang on come hell or high water. And what does that say about him? ... I think he is more concerned with his version of the Labour Party being sustained and being victorious than he is with the Labour Party being victorious in elections. I think he is actually prepared to sacrifice unity and victory - two great words that have traditionally been emblazoned on Labour banners through the ages - in order to secure control of the party.”

The trouble for Owen Smith is that, for all his combative talk and appeal to the left, he is trapped between his past pragmatism and his present radicalism. 

Tony Benn, Corbyn’s late mentor, divided politicians into “signposts” and “weathercocks”: those who shape opinion and those who are shaped by it. He would have branded Smith a “weathercock”. Even if he wins, Smith risks being remembered not as a politician who resolved his party’s contradictions, but as one who embodied them.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser