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Berloody Feminists
SQUABBLERS HIJACK THE AGENDA
By Kaz Cooke

(This article is mercilessly nicked from a book called DIY Feminism by Kathy Bail. Outraged copyright holders are invited to e-mail me abuse. But in my defence, I think it’s bloody brilliant and I agree with it 110%.)

I was trying to read a review of a book about the Second World War when the first paragraph exploded. 'There was a time when Australian men valued virtues such as courage, mateship, stoicism and dependability in times of crisis . . . these days, feminists have sullied those male virtues with ridicule and made them vices ... [a time] when men could still love and sustain each other without feminist scorn.' Berloody feminists. Not content with frightening the horsies, causing the Bosnian situation, and the decline of literacy, have they been out sullying the diggers?

It will certainly come as a surprise to many of the nurses, sweethearts, wives and mothers, war workers all, who recognised courage, mateship, stoicism and dependability because they displayed those virtues themselves, and relied on them in the menfolk they loved and missed. Many women wanted to stay in the workforce after the war; believed it was terrible that girls caught in the passion of those minute-by-minute times died from backyard abortions, and deplored the double standards of the day that meant single mothers found it so terribly hard to get by. In other words, many had 'feminist' ideals. Fancy.

I wasn't there then but I, too, admire the virtues of the soldiers. I wish they didn’t have to go to war, but I do honour them for their bravery and thank them for sacrificing their best intentions and their boisterous, invaluable young minds and bodies. I'm glad they loved and sustained each other; I'm in awe of the disorganised hell they were sent to and brought back in their heads. I've not heard them ridiculed by a feminist, or by anybody else, but perhaps I don’t get out enough.

I did read an interview with a writer once, who was photographed in lipstick and a short skirt. She said 'feminists' had 'told' her not to wear such things. I have heard of girlies say that frocks and lipstick are treacherous to the women's cause, much as I hear a Tasmanian Tiger. I have never come across one myself. (There are persistent rumours still being out there, and there's a lot of excitement at unconfirmed reports.)

The extremists and the squabblers will get the publicity every time. Those who say feminism has been hijacked by prigs (nah, too big to be hijacked). One who says we mustn’t sleep with men (nobody's asking you to watch, dear). Someone who claims one woman has set back feminism by twenty years (fat chance).

Most Australian feminists are simply holding down jobs, having kids, feeling grateful for the Equal Opportunity Act, and wanting votes translated into childcare, equal fight against domestic violence. We get used to hearing 'feminists say. . .' when we haven’t said anything of the sort. We remember the suffragettes were considered way radical the vote, and we don’t care if we're called radical for demanding equal rights.

The myriad variations on feminist belief all revolve around equality of opportunity and freedom of choice: choice to be a full-time parent, a rocket scientist, a labourer or a florist, and the freedom to be respected for any of those choices, man or woman. The squabbling between the celebrities and academic extremists is a sexier angle, the media equivalent of a scrag fight on the oval, but it's not the whole story.

The usual commentators can go on about it until they're bald in the face, but it won’t make it so. The women’s rights movement isn't spoken for by any one person or clique, let alone mythical digger-baiting male-virtue-sullying devil-dancing loons who have gone a bit funny in the head about frocks. Unless somebody's given me the wrong leaflet.

First published in the Sydney Morning Herald and the Sunday Age, August 1995

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