After a Month of Asking Questions, I Still Feel the Same About Power, Privilege and Pink Hats

It’s been almost a month after the women’s march. Today is “A Day Without Immigrants” and next month the women’s march organizers are planning “A Day Without Women”. But I’m still stuck on those pink hats and what they mean. Do a “Women’s March Pussy Hats Google image search and you’ll see a marked similarity between the women in those photos. There were some concerns voiced by transwomen and others that the focus of the protest was on white, middle class, cisgender women, which of course, is true. The fact that more inclusivity and intersectionality is deeply needed in feminism seems to me irrefutable. But we need to accept that not everyone sees that.

It is a priority for me to protect transwomen, women of color, sex workers, sex-trafficking victims (not the same thing), and all women that are particularly vulnerable and at risk. And I also want access to contraception and safe abortion. I get the feeling however, that it’s not just that only one of these sets of issues was addressed at the Women’s March, neither really were.

It’s obvious to me that there was a lot of exclusion at the marches. But was anything accomplished in terms of reproductive or rights or “women’s issues”? Some believe that the March on Washington made a difference, but for the most part these points seem a little abstract or too self-congratulatory. I believe that smaller groups of women having honest, uncomfortable discussions are the way we’re going to foster real change.

The women making the most noise at the marches were wearing pussy hats and carrying clever signs. I think for a lot of these women it makes absolutely no sense why other feminists would see this as problematic. That in itself is a problem. Just like white men refuse to acknowledge their privilege so do white, cisgender women. As someone who falls into the latter category I am concerned about reproductive rights but, while myself and my vagina are safe (relatively) at this moment, many women of all kinds are not. We have to acknowledge that. And we can also see that our struggle is interrelated, as well as address violence against women and misogyny, while keeping privilege in check.

For example. Recently the British Medical Association released a pamphlet to their staff that directed the use of “pregnant person” over “expectant mother” in an effort to be more inclusive. This probably raised some eyebrows to say the least, and realistically probably enraged some people. I understand that response, but I don’t disagree with this move.

I’m a mother, and one thing I can tell you for sure is that the word is absolutely loaded with pressure and stereotypes  One day I was a plain old civilian, living my life under the radar of everyone, certainly strangers on the street. Then I was with child. At first, it was only the doctors, nurses and my mid-wife who started to scrutinize me. As my bump grew it was fair game for everyone on Earth, even those who I’ve never met or will meet, to have an opinion on my food and vitamin intake, sleep habits, how many steps I take in a day and my plans on nursing. Once my son arrived, it was clear that the expectation was that I was now Mother, and I would not ever be viewed as an individual ever again. Mother with a capital M carries with it a set of responsibilities and expectations that are essentially female in nature. Conservative attitudes about terminating pregnancy and fear of “abortion on demand” stems partially from a deep discomfort with the idea that a woman, immediately upon learning she’s pregnant, doesn’t drop everything, automatically consider herself a mother, throw away her halter tops and start collecting tiny outfits that have little yellow ducks all over them. I see no issue with the term “pregnant person”, it’s clean and neutral. It refers to women who are in fact expectant mothers, but also to women who want to terminate their pregnancy, as well as AFAB women who identify as male and doesn’t exclude anyone who isn’t a cis woman who will become a mother. It’s OK. This way, mother has a lowercase m, it doesn’t come packaged with a set of assumptions that are triggered at conception.

A lot of feminists are eager to throw the word TERF around, but I don’t think it should be used as callously as it now is. It’s understandable that women want to talk about their vaginas, at a time when we can do it more freely than ever. It may be worth remembering earlier third wave feminism to bring us back to the same page.

Riot Grrrl band Heavens to Betsy wrote a song called “White Girl” and in it they candidly acknowledged the protections and privilege that come with cis, white femininity.

Fast forward to 2017, we show our “solidarity” by wearing a pink hat. Yes, he said “grab her by the pussy” and that is unforgiveable. But that’s one part of the tremendous problems and incredible task before us right now. People are in true danger. That’s why some women took umbrage at the focus on genitalia at the Women’s March, signs painted with vagina puns, paper mache labia, etc . I’ve thought a lot about the strong urge among Women’s March attendees to acknowledge their pussies, and I really get it, but my conclusion is that it’s misguided. It’s not just OK, it’s necessary for me, and other cisgender white women to keep it in our pants and be quiet, let’s embrace our trans, WOC, working class, sex worker sisters and really be the support and allies they need.