I didn’t know what I was expecting when I turned up to the Phil Soc’s feminism lecture. Certainly a lot less people. Possibly a bit more judgement. As the title was “how to dress like a feminist”, I had carefully checked my outfit beforehand. It all felt slightly ironic, given I was headed to a red flag party later that evening dressed as a gaslighting finance bro.
After moving from a small seminar room into a larger lecture theatre to accommodate the crowds of eager philosophers, I took my seat and was admittedly surprised to see so many guys among the audience. A reassuring reality though, that feminism and gender equality involves everyone.
As the lecturer, Filipa Melo Lopes, began establishing the arguments for and against “Bimbocore” and utilitarian clothing, the clear debate became apparent: should women care for clothing or not? Caring about what we wear is supposedly “emotional labour”, yet we should be free to make our own choices. Which choice is the least complacent with the patriarchy? And ultimately, what is the most feminist choice?
As she set forward the debate, my head began to spin with the overwhelming pressure I felt placed on me. It was a minefield, and one I hadn’t really thought about enough beforehand – did that make me a bad feminist? Suddenly I feared I wasn’t doing enough to make sure my day-to-day choices were fighting misogyny. With no clear answer put forward, the discussion felt like a new way of guilting women into thinking they weren’t doing enough. Was this the aim? Of course not. But with no clear direction or conclusion, the open ending made me feel lost. It made me feel guilty.
But when I stood back and put it into perspective, I realised what I actually wear shouldn’t be the point. If I want to dress like a feminist, it should be more about where my clothes and whether the process behind them is treating others fairly and our world lovingly. Choosing from our wardrobe is one aspect of how we dress, but so is choosing what goes in it in the first place. Surely the greater feminist emphasis needs to be placed on wearing sustainable, fairly produced garments. It should be less about whether you buy a utilitarian jumpsuit or a corset top, and more about where we buy from. If women are being exploited to make your t shirt that says “this is what a feminist looks like” you’ve missed the whole point.
Are we not taking something too seriously, and in doing so, taking joy from women? I don’t think guys have ever stopped and discussed whether their clothing choices fuel the patriarchy. Nit-picking about whether women’s clothing choices are “feminist enough” is overly demanding of women.
There needs to be a discussion about not just dressing like a feminist but also “not sexualising what women wear” like a feminist. Can we make it a mandatory module in first year please?
“rack o’ men’s clothes” by Uncleweed is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.
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Is there really a way to dress like a feminist?
I didn’t know what I was expecting when I turned up to the Phil Soc’s feminism lecture. Certainly a lot less people. Possibly a bit more judgement. As the title was “how to dress like a feminist”, I had carefully checked my outfit beforehand. It all felt slightly ironic, given I was headed to a red flag party later that evening dressed as a gaslighting finance bro.
After moving from a small seminar room into a larger lecture theatre to accommodate the crowds of eager philosophers, I took my seat and was admittedly surprised to see so many guys among the audience. A reassuring reality though, that feminism and gender equality involves everyone.
As the lecturer, Filipa Melo Lopes, began establishing the arguments for and against “Bimbocore” and utilitarian clothing, the clear debate became apparent: should women care for clothing or not? Caring about what we wear is supposedly “emotional labour”, yet we should be free to make our own choices. Which choice is the least complacent with the patriarchy? And ultimately, what is the most feminist choice?
As she set forward the debate, my head began to spin with the overwhelming pressure I felt placed on me. It was a minefield, and one I hadn’t really thought about enough beforehand – did that make me a bad feminist? Suddenly I feared I wasn’t doing enough to make sure my day-to-day choices were fighting misogyny. With no clear answer put forward, the discussion felt like a new way of guilting women into thinking they weren’t doing enough. Was this the aim? Of course not. But with no clear direction or conclusion, the open ending made me feel lost. It made me feel guilty.
But when I stood back and put it into perspective, I realised what I actually wear shouldn’t be the point. If I want to dress like a feminist, it should be more about where my clothes and whether the process behind them is treating others fairly and our world lovingly. Choosing from our wardrobe is one aspect of how we dress, but so is choosing what goes in it in the first place. Surely the greater feminist emphasis needs to be placed on wearing sustainable, fairly produced garments. It should be less about whether you buy a utilitarian jumpsuit or a corset top, and more about where we buy from. If women are being exploited to make your t shirt that says “this is what a feminist looks like” you’ve missed the whole point.
Are we not taking something too seriously, and in doing so, taking joy from women? I don’t think guys have ever stopped and discussed whether their clothing choices fuel the patriarchy. Nit-picking about whether women’s clothing choices are “feminist enough” is overly demanding of women.
There needs to be a discussion about not just dressing like a feminist but also “not sexualising what women wear” like a feminist. Can we make it a mandatory module in first year please?
“rack o’ men’s clothes” by Uncleweed is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.
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