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Social Movement Studies
Journal of Social, Cultural and Political Protest
ISSN: 1474-2837 (Print) 1474-2829 (Online) Journal homepage: https://www.tandfonline.com/loi/csms20
Political Not Generational: Getting Real About
Contemporary UK Radical Feminism
Finn Mackay
To cite this article: Finn Mackay (2015) Political Not Generational: Getting Real About
Contemporary UK Radical Feminism, Social Movement Studies, 14:4, 427-442, DOI:
10.1080/14742837.2014.963545
To link to this article: https://doi.org/10.1080/14742837.2014.963545
Published online: 07 Oct 2014.
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Political Not Generational: Getting Real
About Contemporary UK Radical Feminism
FINN MACKAY
Sociology, Department of Health & Social Sciences, University of the West of England, Bristol, UK
ABSTRACT In this article, I present data from qualitative research with 30 self-identified radical
feminists who are currently active in the British feminist movement. I explore how participants defined
their feminism, and threats to it – particularly challenges to organising women-only political space.
I also focus on how participants related to the term third wave feminism, their definitions and critiques
of this type of feminism as they perceived it. Many of the radical feminists in my research were keen to
disassociate from the term ‘third wave’ and expressed an allegiance and connection to second-wave
radical feminism, including those radical feminists too young to have any direct connection to that
‘wave’, being born too late to be politically active during the 1970s and 1980s.
KEY WORDS: Feminism, third wave, radical feminism, lesbian, young women
There is a growing field of commentary and analysis, from academics, journalists and
campaigners, on contemporary feminist activism in the UK; activism which is also
growing, allegedly pioneered by younger women (Banyard, 2010; Cochrane, 2010;
Mendes, 2011; Mesure, 2009; Redfern & Aune, 2010; Topping, 2012). This focus on the
role of younger women has furthered familiar generational metaphors regarding the
women’s liberation movement (WLM) (Dean, 2009; Henry, 2004; Woodward &
Woodward, 2009). Underpinning a generational focus is the wave narrative, the idea that
feminism as a movement, in the West at least, has progressed in a linear fashion from a
recognisable first wave in the 1800s and 1900s, through to a second wave from the late
1960s to the 1980s and surfacing now as a third wave appearing since the 1990s, arising
‘out of a critique of the second wave’ (Mann & Huffman, 2005, p. 56).
Emerging in very different socioeconomic and cultural environments, each successive
wave has been attached to successive generations and often viewed as their product and
possession, considered to reflect the unique circumstances of that generation, as well as the
feminism which went before. This generational attachment has led to contemporary
feminist activism sometimes being described as ‘third wave’ and being bound particularly
to younger women, although the term is perhaps used less in the UK than in the USA
where it first emerged. In her book on the future of feminism, Walby (2011) asserts as
follows: ‘Third-wave feminism is a label attached to the contemporary feminism of young
women, which defines itself as different from previous forms’ (19). Scholar of third-wave
q 2014 Taylor & Francis
Correspondence Address: Finn Mackay, Sociology, Health & Social Sciences, University of the West of England,
Frenchay Campus, Coldharbour Lane, Bristol BS16 1QY, UK. Email: finn.mackay@uwe.ac.uk
Social Movement Studies, 2015
Vol. 14, No. 4, 427–442, http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/14742837.2014.963545
feminism, Dean (2009, p. 334), posits that this generational understanding of the term third
wave is relatively common to the British context:
I trace two different conceptions of the “third wave” – one referring to a
poststructuralist and postcolonial critique of the second wave – and another
referring to a specific generational cohort of young feminists. I argue that the latter
conception has become dominant in the contemporary British context and to a lesser
extent elsewhere.
In this article, using empirical data gathered from survey research and semi-structured
interviews with feminist activists across the UK, I shall explore how activists themselves
relate to the term third wave. It emerged that for many activists, the term freighted
particular political ideologies, and was not used simply as a generational referent or
chronological marker point in the progression of feminism as a social movement. One
group of feminists in particular voiced strong opposition to the term and refused to be
positioned as part of a third wave, or be classified as third wave feminists. This group
included research participants who were aged in their twenties and thirties and thus who
could be viewed technically as a ‘new generation’ of feminist activists or as activists in a
period chronologically following the second wave. As the title alludes, all of these
participants identified themselves politically as radical feminists – a type or school of
feminism rooted in and perhaps most often popularly associated with the second-wave
feminism of the 1970s.
I shall illustrate that for many contemporary radical feminist activists, the label third
wave is distinctly ideological, does not refer simply to a new generation or younger cohort
of feminists and is believed to contain several features which are antithetical to radical
feminism – namely, the erasure of women-only space; and a pro-sex industry and propornography
stance. Radical feminist activists also often conflated what they saw as thirdwave
feminism, with postfeminism – sometimes epitomised by the so-called ‘power
feminism’ of ‘media-friendly conservative feminists’ such as Roiphe and Wolf (Gillis &
Munford, 2004, p. 166) – and also with a neo-liberal version of feminism often referred to
as ‘choice feminism’ (Ferguson, 2010).
The Study
The data presented here were gathered from qualitative, in-depth interviews and survey
research as part of my Ph.D. fieldwork on the changing British WLM, conducted from
2011–2012. I interviewed 25 feminist activists around England of various backgrounds,
drawn from an initial response rate of 74; the activists all responded to an online call for
research participants which I distributed to UK feminist websites and groups. The
selection was based on availability during the fieldwork period from approximately
November 2011 to March 2012. To expand the sample, I also distributed an online survey,
via feminist websites and email groups, which garnered 108 responses. I developed and
piloted the electronic survey with a small group of feminist activists involved in the street
protest Reclaim the Night, a traditionally women-only march against male violence
against women, before finalising and distributing online. All of the survey respondents
self-selected and the survey was not targeted at any particular group or individual.
The field I researched is one in which I was an insider researcher (Kanuha, 2000; Naples,
2 F. Mackay428
2003), being an active feminist in the UK for nearly 20 years and identifying politically as
a radical feminist.
The position of insider researcher is one often suspected of bias; as van Heugten (2004)
recounts, suspicions are often raised when researchers interview colleagues or others close
to them. ‘The selection of a topic that clearly reflects a personal interest and the selection
of colleagues as subjects raise the spectre of “insider bias”’ (207). My experiences were no
different; in order to address such concerns, I took care to advertise for participants widely
and outside my own personal networks. In the final sample, only two participants were
individuals I would call friends – who I socialised with outside activism – and the
majority were unknown to me. Many participants were unaware of my background in UK
feminist activism and several of those who were so aware used the research process to
disagree with some of the events I have been involved in, or to raise critiques of my
political standpoint, as they perceived it, on a variety of issues. Possessing a shared culture
and lexicon with participants, what Naples (2003) calls a ‘greater linguistic competence’
above what outsider researchers may have at their disposal (p. 46), I took care to check the
usage of shorthand, acronyms and insider references during the interviews, to avoid the
pitfall of assumed meanings.
In summary, I feel my position brought only benefits, and I managed to avoid some of
the common problems in insider research. As most of the participants were unknown to
me, I did not experience discomfort that can arise when interviewing friends or colleagues
for example. My field was not a workplace where my position as a researcher could
prejudice my employment or my relations with colleagues. I did not feel that participants
were unduly influenced by my own politics, or that they were affected by some sort of
Hawthorne effect whereby they tailored their accounts to what they perceived I would
prefer to hear; far from it in some cases.
For the purposes of this article, I selected, from over a hundred responses, data from
those self-defined radical feminists (N ¼ 30) who were active in the WLM from the 1960s
and/or in the present day. All names have been changed. The selected participants ranged
in age from 20 to 65. Fourteen were aged 34 or under, the largest age group being those
between 25 and 30 years old. An almost equal number identified as lesbian (N ¼ 12) and
heterosexual (N ¼ 11), five identified as bisexual, one as queer and one identified their
sexuality as ‘other’. All but one, who identified as Black British, defined their ethnicity as
White, and all identified as female; they reported being active feminists from between 3 to
over 30 years.
It is important to note that this was not a piece of quantitative research, the final sample
selected is not statistically representative of older or younger radical feminists in the UK,
nor is this something I would seek to claim. An obvious weakness in the sample group is
the absence of Black Radical Feminists. This is particularly concerning given the historic
and current tensions around racism, along with other intersecting structural inequalities,
within the WLM itself. The fact of power inequalities between women has been debated
within the WLM for decades, and is no less of a live issue in the contemporary movement,
being aired in disagreements over the so-called ‘SlutWalk’ protests, emerging in the USA
and the UK in 2011 for example (Brison, 2011), and in a popular thread, on Twitter in
2013, under the theme ‘Solidarity is for White Women’ (Kendall, 2013). Global forums
provided by the Internet enable activists to share their experiences of racism and
ethnocentrism within the WLM, highlighting the tenacity of structural inequalities within
and between oppressed identity groupings, the persistence of what Verloo (2013) calls the
Political not generational 3429
‘interfering inequalities’ which plague the very social movements attempting to challenge
and end those inequalities (p. 893).1
What is Radical Feminism?
Radical feminism is one strand of feminism, usually identified as beginning in the USA
and being a product of the second wave of feminism (Coote & Campbell, 1987). Like
feminism more broadly, there is no single definition of radical feminism; and there are
probably as many definitions of feminism as there are people who identify as feminists.
Self-identified radical feminists of the second wave, in the UK at least, were not always
prolific in writing their own herstory or theory; at least not in published works (York et al.,
1991). Arguably, this situation has resulted in the marginalisation of radical feminism, as
histories and edited collections on the second wave, drawing on readily available and more
mainstream sources, have frequently misrepresented or underestimated this strand of
feminism, wilfully or otherwise. Historian of the UK second wave, Rees, points out that as
many such sources were produced by socialist feminists, this branch of feminism has often
been overrepresented, such that
the favouring of socialist feminism in memoirs and commentaries has produced a
skewed historiography in which radical and revolutionary feminists are not
represented in their own words, and where their ideas and practices are often
dismissed. (Rees, 2010, p. 338)
Radical feminists in one collection affirm that the contribution of radical feminism has
been maligned, and that this is partly because radical feminists themselves have not
recorded it:
We feel that radical feminism has been a, if not the, major force in the WLM since
the start, but as factions started to emerge it has rarely been women who called
themselves radical feminists who have defined radical feminism. (York et al., 1991,
p. 309)
Reviewing some of this literature (Bell & Klein, 1996), I suggest that radical feminism can
be identified from other strands by four criteria, these being (1) a focus on patriarchy/male
supremacy; (2) recognition of male violence against women as a keystone of women’s
oppression; (3) extension of the term ‘violence against women’ to include pornography
and prostitution and (4) the use and promotion of autonomous women-only political
organising. Radical feminist theory has also contributed important political critiques of
compulsory heterosexuality and of the nuclear family (Dixon, 1988; Rich, 1980). In the
UK, radical and revolutionary feminists provoked debates on these latter issues in
publications such as the infamous 1979 pamphlet ‘Love your enemy?’ on political
lesbianism (OP OnlyWomen Press, 1981). However, radical feminism is perhaps most
well known for addressing patriarchy and male violence, and has arguably contributed
most political theory on these areas (Brownmiller, 1976; Firestone, 1970/1993; Hanmer,
1981; Hester, 1992; Millet, 1969/1972). This focus involved the problematising of men as
a class, and correspondingly, the categorisation of women also, as a political class.
As radical feminists Rowland and Klein (1991, p. 13) assert:
4 F. Mackay430
Radical feminism insists that women as a social class or a social group are oppressed
by men as a social group as well as individually by men who continue to benefit from
that oppression and do nothing to change it; the system through which men do this
has been termed patriarchy [ . . . ] it is “power” rather than “difference” which
determines the relationship between women and men.
The aforementioned strand of revolutionary feminism is a uniquely British school of
feminism, founded in April 1977 by a then London-based feminist activist, Sheila Jeffreys.
The school appears to share much in common with radical feminism, perhaps going
further than the latter by identifying men as solely responsible for women’s oppression and
therefore placing less attention on capitalism or other social forces for example (Hester,
1992). There were also other areas of disagreement between these two schools and
sometimes there was conflict with revolutionary feminists suggesting that radical
feminism had descended into a reductionist form of cultural, or lifestyle feminism
(Jeffreys, 1977), what Campbell (1980) called ‘the cult of woman’, involving, for
example, Goddess-orientated spirituality or environmentalism (Caine, 1997; Ryan, 1992).
It is this type of cultural feminism that is sometimes invoked, incorrectly, in broad
criticisms of radical feminism in general, leading to the assertion that radical feminism is
essentialist, that it posits a-priori, natural differences between women and men and
simplistically aggrandises femaleness and femininity. Conjuring up the ‘separate spheres’
debates in the 1800s and 1900s (see: Mill, 1869/1984), which emphasised a natural,
romantic and religious superiority of women (while not translating into any tangible form
of privilege, economically or politically), Banks (1986), for example, in her historical
study of the feminist movement in the USA and the UK, berates radical feminism for
veering towards an ‘evangelical feminism, glorifying woman in her maternal role and
looking to her in her specifically feminine attributes to reform the world’ (p. 243). Herein
lies the association with essentialism or biological determinism, and several radical
feminists have been charged with this crime and accused of cultural feminism, for example
Daly, Rich and Dworkin (Alcoff, 1988; Echols, 1989). Lienert (1996) provides a thorough
rebuttal of these charges, providing evidence illustrating that these so-called cultural
feminists have explicitly denounced biological determinism. Dworkin (1993), for
example, described biological determinism as ‘the most pernicious ideology on the face of
the earth’ (p. 112). Morgan too in a 1996 memoir emphatically distances herself from
biological determinism, arguing that radical feminism is not synonymous with cultural
feminism but is in fact its very opposite (1996, p. 6).
Returning to early radical feminist texts however, attempting to untangle the received
wisdom about their position from their actual body of work, it is clear that radical feminist
theory was far from essentialist. Early works emphasised that gender is a social construct;
therefore, that male violence is not a biological fact and that it can be reduced and even
ended (Millet, 1969/1972). As one radical feminist humorously summarised in the British
Rev/Rad Newsletter in 1981:
the fact that I don’t myself believe all men are absolute pigs makes me even more
enraged and disgusted with the overwhelming majority who are, precisely because I
know men could be so different. Women who regard all men as implacable enemies
because they are biologically male are simply giving men an excuse for their male
supremacist behaviour. (Mitchell, 1981, p. 1)
Political not generational 5431
The charge of essentialism is just one of the many common stereotypes used to attack
radical feminism, however. In 1980, Campbell accused radical feminists of antilesbianism
by de-sexing lesbianism into a purely political standpoint; Byrne (1996)
accuses radical feminism of essentialism and sexual segregation, and Gelb (1986) blames
radical feminism solely for the association of feminism with ‘man-hating’. Radical
feminism often seems the vessel for popular imaginary of a feminism gone too far, an
extreme, evangelical or fundamental version, what Califia (1997) referred to as ‘feminist
fundamentalism’ (p. 86). These accusations, myths and stereotypes were familiar to all of
the radical feminists who participated in my research, and I shall bring out some of their
responses later in this article.
What is Third-Wave Feminism?
Third-wave feminism appears to have emerged from the USA in the 1990s, although some
sources suggest that the term was coined there much earlier in the mid-1980s in an
unpublished collection on feminism and racism influenced by the identity politics of the
1980s that so characterised the Western WLM at that time (Orr, 1997). The term ‘third
wave’ is usually attributed to Rebecca Walker, however, founder of the Third Wave
Foundation in America in 1993 (Henry, 2004) and editor of a third wave collection in
1995. Walker’s work to encourage political participation and leadership amongst younger
women is perhaps why the term then came to be linked to young women.
Third-wave feminism has become associated with cultural forms of activism, often
articulated in virtual spaces and often autobiographical, focussed on identity projects and
experiences of personhood in contemporary society (Budgeon, 2011). Since the late
1990s, the Internet has provided a most conducive space for such personal expressions in
the form of art, poetry, music, political commentary and autobiographical blogs for
example (Budgeon, 2011). This defining autobiographical element has led to criticism, for
example, that the third wave is individualistic rather than collective, that it has an
unhealthy dependence on consumerism as a medium through which to define itself and
that it focuses too much on the notion of choice (Baker, 2008; Ferguson, 2010;
Rudolfsdottir & Jolliffe, 2008).
Foundational proponents of third-wave feminism such as Baumgardner and Richards
(2000) have encouraged the association of third wave with younger women, declaring that
anyone born after the early 1960s inherited a world already transformed by feminism, the
success of which obscured the struggles that went before, necessitating a new style of
engagement with feminism. The fact of this newness and insistence on difference to the
previous wave are common features of third-wave self-definitions (Gillis & Munford,
2004). Dismissing generational divisions, many writers have since argued that third-wave
feminism, like feminism generally, is political, and therefore can be adopted by anyone,
regardless of their age. Budgeon (2011) argues that third-wave feminism is not defined by
the age of the claimant to that identity, but can be characterised by its focus on
intersectionality (Crenshaw, 1989) and its disavowal of ‘woman’ as a universal category,
having been influenced by queer theory and recent transgender and transsexual liberation
movements. Scholar of third-wave feminism, Dean (2009) observes other features of
third-wave feminism, noting that self-defined third-wave feminists are, generally, ‘more
likely to engage with issues related to popular culture, are less likely to be “anti-porn” and
are (generally) more open to bringing men into a pro-feminist agenda’ (339).
6 F. Mackay432
The radical feminists in my study raised several critiques of third-wave feminism, and
the ideological positions they associated with it. Referring back to Dean’s summary,
presented earlier, which outlined the sometimes conflicting two popular conceptions of
third wave (2009, p. 334), the radical feminists in my study adopted his first conception,
viewing it as carrying ideologies, partly influenced by poststructuralist and postcolonial
critiques of the second wave. However, they were also aware that the term could be used
purely practically (not ideologically) as a chronological referent.
I emphasise that it is not my aim here in this article to provide any singular definition of
‘third wave’, nor to give concrete examples of third wave feminist activism. There is a
growing body of research which addresses third-wave feminism and which presents casestudies
of self-defined third-wave feminist activism (see for example: Budgeon, 2011;
Dean, 2010). My concern in this article is to present some of the voices of contemporary
radical feminists and their views on the current condition of the UK WLM, including their
own perception of third-wave politics and ideology. In so doing, I am not suggesting that
the conceptions of third-wave feminism presented here are accurate or representative and
am aware that debates over what constitutes third-wave feminism are likely to continue,
both in activist and academic communities, and that these conceptions differ in the USA
and the UK.
Radical Feminists Rap the Third Wave
When discussing contemporary feminist activism in the UK, all the participants included
reference to third-wave feminism and had several similar understandings of this term.
They often connected third wave ideology with post-feminism and were opposed to what
Charlotte termed:
glib, depoliticised, post-feminist claptrap. (Charlotte)
Charlotte was a 34-year-old local government officer living in Yorkshire; she had been
involved in the WLM for around three years. Kira, the youngest self-identified radical
feminist at 27 years old, was a full-time journalist and resident in the South West; she
linked third-wave feminism with liberalism and neo-liberal narratives regarding the
reification of choice:
I think the third wave in particular are perhaps related to a liberal, libertarian idea of
feminism that’s very pro-porn; and about, this is my choice, you know, if a woman
does it it’s a feminist choice, you know, even if it’s just a choice to have a glass of
white wine. So I don’t identify as third wave myself. (Kira)
Helen, in her late fifties, gave a very similar account of this perceived brand of
contemporary feminism, what Ferguson (2010) labels, ‘choice feminism’, which radical
feminists in my study often conflated with third-wave feminism, viewing the two as
synonymous:
I think there is a misunderstanding that whatever a woman “chooses” is feminist
simply by virtue of the fact a woman “chose” it. (Helen)
Political not generational 7433
Like Kira, other participants linked third wave politics to a pro-pornography, as well as
pro-prostitution stance. There was a suggestion that third-wave feminism has perhaps not
been so critical of what participants felt was an increasing normalisation of the sex
industry since approximately the 1990s. Many argued, in fact, that some expressions of
third-wave feminism embrace and defend such a trend with narratives of choice
(furthering their conception of third-wave feminism as a version of choice feminism),
framing it as empowering rather than as a symptom of patriarchy. Mary, a 44-year-old
charity Director in London and an activist for over 20 years, articulated this suspicion:
Far be it for me to talk about such old fashioned ideas as false consciousness, but if
you find that your voices are what the patriarchy would like you to say and do
anyway, then surely that is up for debate. I’m not saying you shouldn’t do it, I’m just
saying, surely, it’s up for challenge. (Mary)
All the radical feminist participants voiced opinions against pornography, prostitution and
the wider sex industry and saw this as an important part of their radical feminist politics.
This is perhaps unsurprising, given that radical feminist theory uniquely tackled these
subjects, producing pioneering feminist analyses of pornography in particular from the
late 1970s and into the 1980s (Long, 2012). Efra, an activist in her early twenties,
illustrated this stance:
I identify as a radical feminist and by this I mean that I want to end the patriarchy
and capitalism which both work together to oppress and exploit women.
My feminism regards prostitution, pornography, lap dancing etc. as forms of
violence against women and definitely NOT work. [emphasis in original] (Efra)
Radical Feminists Define Radical Feminism
In order to address the arguments presented earlier by Rees (2010) and York et al. (1991),
regarding the misrepresentation or underrepresentation of radical feminism, I asked radical
feminists themselves how they would define radical feminism. Participants emphasised the
importance of an analysis of patriarchy, as Eve and Cordelia explained. Eve was a 35-yearold
university lecturer living in Yorkshire, and she had been active in the WLM for nearly
three years. Cordelia was a 63-year-old retired architect residing in London.
That [Radical Feminism] means challenging patriarchy, seeing patriarchy as a
structure and trying to fundamentally alter that structure; it’s not about tinkering
about the edges, it’s not about faffing about, or working within patriarchy. (Eve)
If you say you’re a “Rad Fem”, you’re about changing the whole of patriarchy;
changing the whole system, you know, going right back to, you know, the roots. What
are the roots of all these issues, and none of this tinkering at the edges. (Cordelia)
This theme of total system change was frequently raised by participants. It was suggested,
though they did not usually name other schools of feminism explicitly, that some
articulations of feminism were flawed in remaining content to work within the current
8 F. Mackay434
system; a system which participants felt was largely irredeemable. Mary summarised this
viewpoint, making reference to liberal feminism:
I’m a Radical Feminist. Well, it’s about not wanting a piece of the pie; it’s about
wanting the whole cake. Well, I think I’m a bit kind of schizophrenic in that regard,
not in a medical sense, but that during the day I’m a liberal feminist working to
change the system and trying to get changes for women, but I think the whole system
needs rebuilding from scratch, you know. I don’t think you could reform the current
system to a point where everyone was liberated because the system is the problem.
I mean, we can tinker round the edges making some gains for some women, but,
I mean, it’s not the answer. (Mary)
Participants felt that some other articulations of feminism, including what they perceived
as third wave, often retreat from problematising men and masculinity. In contrast, these
radical feminists proudly asserted that radical feminism does not retreat from this, as
argued by Sandy. Sandy was a 63-year-old local government officer from Yorkshire, an
activist with a 30-year history in the WLM:
Radical feminism, that’s about problematising men, not just being concerned with
the economics; we’ve always been concerned with the economics, but we
problematise men. [emphasis added] (Sandy)
Participants also explained what the term ‘radical’ meant to them, what this prefix before
their feminism represented – and usually it denoted anger; an anger they felt was urgent,
justified and taboo. As Charlotte summarised:
I don’t know if I would have previously said that [identified as radical feminist] ‘cos I
didn’t really know the difference, but basically it’s through all of the aggression I’ve
received about women-only [space], and the more I’ve done stuff, it’s just changed the
way I feel about it, and my friend said: “yeah, if we align ourselves anywhere it’s with
that”; because it’s more militant, it’s stronger; it sounds as angry as I am. (Charlotte)
Although outspoken about their radical feminist identity, all the participants were aware of
prevalent stereotypes of feminists, and they discussed the challenges these stereotypes and
attacks on feminism raised for their activism, in particular for women-only feminist activism.
Radical Women Only
Participants stressed the role of autonomous women-only space in radical feminism; as the
following quotes demonstrate, from Vivienne and Mandy. Vivienne was a 51-year-old full
time carer resident in the Midlands who had been a feminist activist for over 20 years, and
Mandy was a 65-year-old writer living in London who had been active in the WLM for
over 30 years:
it’s about dismantling all the patriarchal institutions that exist both formally and
informally, and it’s about loving women and being positive to women and putting
women first, and that is a political and a personal thing. (Vivienne)
Political not generational 9435
I think central to all feminism, to all Women’s Liberation politics, is the idea that,
you know, women themselves must be the ones to liberate women. And that
women’s experiences, I think this is key, women’s experiences were the basis of our
politics. (Mandy)
All the radical feminist participants perceived women-only space as currently under
attack, and those with many years of activist experience suggested that such space has
declined since the 1970s. As Vivienne explained:
There were lots of women-only events then [1980s], and in that decade. I don’t think
me or the women around me could imagine a time when there wouldn’t be; we
couldn’t imagine having to fight for women-only space, we couldn’t have imagined
having to do that. I mean, that’s an indication of the change, of, like, what was taken
for granted, is now; I’m meant to feel like some sort of oppressor, ‘cos I’m saying
feminism should be women-only. That’s a huge challenge. (Vivienne)
Charlotte gave examples of the current challenges she faced from her peers when
organising women-only spaces in the contemporary feminist movement in the UK, and
recounted being regularly critiqued for not including men:
Women need to have the opportunity to get together with other women to discuss
things that affect women. But, you know, I say I go to my feminist book group, and
it’s a women-only book group, and friends will say: “oh I thought it was a feminist
book group”, and I’ll say: “well yes it is, and this one’s women-only, and if you want
to organise a mixed one then why don’t you go and do it, I just started this one up on
my own”. Well, my friend used to work on an anti-vivisection stall and she said
nobody ever came up to her and said: “what about the dolphins”. (Charlotte)
Emmeline, a 64-year-old retired teacher, asserted that such challenges of women-only
space often call into question the sexuality of the person promoting women-only space,
aligning women-only feminism with lesbianism and proffering that the latter is an
undesirable feature:
I think there’s a sort of fear of feminists, of weirdo lesbians. (Emmeline)
A variety of reasons for preferring women-only organising were put forward. Sometimes,
participants were unable to express specific reasons, feeling that women-only feminist
activism was a case of ‘stating the obvious’, as Bronwyn, an activist in her late twenties,
illustrated:
Women also really NEED women-only spaces within the movement, it’s so vital
politically and personally for so many reasons. I can’t really answer this question;
it’s so obvious and instinctual to me. [emphasis in original] (Bronwyn)
When reasons were translated, these ranged from feeling that women-only spaces were
more supportive and conducive places within which to discuss and analyse experiences of
sexist oppression, particularly male violence; or feeling that retrograde gender roles are so
10 F. Mackay436
hard to escape that in mixed political spaces women can be restrained from taking on
leadership posts, or more technical, public or confrontational tasks, in deference to men’s
domination of such roles.
The radical feminist participants also argued that women-only organising fostered
solidarity amongst women, in a climate which they felt often attempted to divide women.
As Kira explained:
something I think is so important to feminism in general, not just to RTN, but, about
coordinating action and meeting other women and working together as women
towards a common goal. There’s so much divide and rule and kind of, like,
commentary about women not being able to work together and being like “bitchy”
and grumpy, and it’s through feminism I’ve met so many amazing women and had
so many exciting or emotional things that have changed my perspective on things.
(Kira)
The findings presented above shed light on the political perspective of some radical
feminists in the contemporary WLM and some challenges they identify for their own
efforts in feminist activism. Participants raised critiques of neo-liberalism, third-wave
feminism, choice feminism and liberal feminism, often aligning their own politics with
those of second-wave feminism. They championed women-only space and focussed much
of their activism on male violence against women, including pornography and prostitution.
Third Wave – Ideological Not Generational?
The surfacing of a self-defined and recognisable new wave of feminism could suggest the
demise and/or rejection of the previous wave. As claims to a third wave are occurring
alongside a continuing feminist movement, which contains feminists, such as those in my
study, whose activism began in previous decades, as well as younger feminists aligned to
the second wave, the waves would appear to be overlapping. What is arguably occurring
therefore, with some articulations of third-wave feminism, is a rejection of the previous
wave, rather than a replacement following a death by natural causes. Some third wave
writing does appear to define itself reductively against a simplistic and caricatured
portrayal of second-wave feminist theory and practice. This caricatured portrayal is often
similar to the accusations charged at radical feminism generally: that it is racist,
homophobic, humourless, prudish ‘anti-sex’, ‘man-hating’, outdated and essentialist (for a
discussion of such charges, see Kinser, 2004; Scanlon, 2009). Such portrayals, like a hall
of mirrors, distort the image of the feminist until it is unrecognisable to most feminists. Orr
(1997) points out that such caricatures are invoked and promoted despite the existence of
much evidence to the contrary, not only in historical accounts of the second wave but in
the current activism and writing of contemporary feminists who align themselves with the
second wave. This is a habit of misrepresentation which Orr blames on the general
reification of youth and consumerism in contemporary neo-liberal society: ‘It may be that
consumer culture has rendered “new and improved” much more enticing than “historically
informed”’ (Orr, 1997, p. 33).
Many of the radical feminists in my study were aged in their twenties and thirties, yet
they rejected the ‘new and improved’ version of feminism that they attached to the term
third wave, and instead positioned themselves very strongly with second-wave feminism.
Political not generational 11437
These radical feminists did not want to be branded as third wave feminists simply because
of their age; they vehemently disagreed with the political ideology that they associated
with third-wave feminism as they saw it. In identifying themselves strongly with the
second wave, they opposed any assertion of generational divides between feminists and
they proposed that divides between feminists were due to politics and ideology rather than
age. As radical feminist academic Dines (2012) explains passionately:
The battles are not between generations or waves (as some would argue) but
between those who adopt a radical understanding of power, institutions, capitalism,
empire, and liberation, and those who seek safety in a more liberal, don’t-rock-theboat
ideology that celebrates individual empowerment over collective social change.
No surprise that this appeals to the more privileged group of women, since they have
been the ones to benefit most from the crumbs thrown to women post-1960s.
Radical Feminism and Her Enemies
Third-wave feminism has obviously originated in very different circumstances to the
feminism of the 1970s and 1980s; being birthed in the effervescent 1990s as neoliberalism
tightened its stranglehold on all areas of society, areas which have been
progressively handed over to market rule (Duggan, 2003). The machinations of Western
capitalism in this period both built on and promoted masculinist notions of the individual
as a rational agent engaged in the occupation of life. In so doing, the existence and effects
of structural social forces outside the individual were foreclosed, even as they continued to
exert their influence with arguably increasing brutality. From a neo-liberal perspective,
however, the individual alone is responsible for any such brutal, negative effects. As Baker
(2008, p. 60) explains: ‘Self-improvement and responsibility for one’s own fate are so
fundamental to late modernity and neo-liberalism that interpretations which emphasise
self-determination are required in even the most testing situations.’ As argued by the
radical feminists in my study, this perspective has led to the possibility and practice of
individual ‘choice’ becoming almost a religion in current Western society (see: Salecl,
2010); and the participants often associated this particularly with third-wave feminists and
third-wave feminism.
This influence of neo-liberalism, plus the ramifications of an ongoing backlash against
the gains of the WLM (Faludi, 1992), were seen by participants to have contributed to the
development of choice feminism (Ferguson, 2010). This is a weak and depoliticised
version of feminism which asserts that power for women lies in their capacity to make
choices, regardless of what those choices are, what influences may lie behind them, what
environment they are made in or what consequences they may have. Participants in my
study complained that practices they viewed as anti-feminist could be defended in the
current climate as a woman’s choice, thus silencing any critique. The radical feminist
participants argued that this type of choice feminism does nothing to undermine a
patriarchal status-quo in which women, and younger women in particular, are called upon
to define themselves as empowered neo-liberal subjects through their consumer practices,
or ‘choices’, in every sphere of life (Ferguson, 2010; Rudolfsdottir & Jolliffe, 2008).
These consumer practices were thought to, perhaps inevitably, maintain hegemonic
heterosexualised femininity, even perhaps when they were practiced by those identifying
12 F. Mackay438
with alternative spaces and subcultures, such as those of third-wave feminism (Gill, 2007;
McRobbie, 2009).
True or False; Feminist Archetypes and Stereotypes
The radical feminists in my study highlighted the difficulty of being activists in such an
environment described above; they perceived hostility to a strong, political feminism
generally, but especially to radical feminism. They keenly felt the power of negative
stereotyping and recounted wrestling with this on a regular basis in interactions with their
peers. As noted, their promotion of women-only space often seemed to provoke hostility.
Participants were accused of being oppressive for engaging in women-only organising,
and their gender identity, sexuality and relation to men was called into question. The
image of the feminist as a man-hating, hairy-legged lesbian has achieved almost universal
currency (Baker, 2008; Budgeon, 2001; Rich, 2005; Scharff, 2010). It is important that, of
all the different schools of feminism, these are all images arguably most associated with
radical feminism. While feminism has become mainstreamed, and focussed on gender
rather than sex, certain articulations of feminism, usually liberal articulations, have
become widely acceptable, generally those concentrated on legal equality within what
McRobbie (2009) terms ‘an otherwise more or less unaltered social order’ (p. 14), while
more radical versions of feminism are maligned and marginalised.
To summarise the earlier discussion then, radical feminism often appears to act as some
form of standard bearer for lines crossed, representing an extreme, evangelical,
transgressive and isolated destination at which, it is insinuated, nobody would wish to
arrive. This is the destination at which the imagined man-hating, hairy-legged lesbian
separatist merrily alights. This caricature functions to limit women’s choices with regard
to feminist politics, by attaching a price to the adoption of a more radical feminist stance, a
stance commonly associated with the rejection of men: sexually, politically, socially or
domestically, which, in patriarchal society, may result in reprisals (Hesford, 2005).
Reprisals such as those recounted by the participants in my study: being questioned about
one’s gender identity and sexuality, and/or having assumptions made about one’s
sexuality, being subjected to verbal harassment or physical harassment, threats or
violence. By making a caricature out of such political positions, these positions are also
defused of power, in an attempt to render ridiculous, fictional and laughable the valid and
very real politics of separatism, the sexuality of lesbianism and the principle of
autonomous women-only organising.
The harassment experienced by participants is perhaps testimony to the powerful and
enduring presence of homophobia in contemporary society, at least with regard to female
homosexuality. Ironically, the popular stereotyping of feminists, often attached to radical
feminism in particular, arguably results in the exorcism and silencing of actual radical
feminist activists, while imagined radical feminist spectres are invoked on a regular basis
to police the feminism of a new generation and limit their options for political (and
perhaps sexual) identification.
Conclusion
In conclusion, radical feminists are active in the current phase of the British WLM,
whatever this phase may be called by observers – whether a third wave, a resurgence or a
Political not generational 13439
continuation of the second wave. Some of these activists are first-generation radical
feminists, incubated in the second wave and still active today. Some are younger radical
feminists, too young to have experienced the second wave. Participants experienced and
suffered stereotyping and harassment due to their political identity, which often became
most vicious or overt when promoting women-only spaces.
In the face of such hostility, these radical feminists proudly defined their brand of
politics by their promotion of autonomous women-only organising, and also by their
problematising of patriarchy and their focus on male violence against women, including
the violence of pornography and prostitution. The participants felt that these elements set
apart their feminism from other schools of feminism, including what they perceived as
third-wave feminism.
It could be seen as simply semantics, whether one refers to the current phase of
feminism as third wave or not, as, either way, an exciting resurgence of diverse feminism
and feminist activism certainly appears to be taking place in the UK (Emmott, 2013).
Within it are feminist activists of a variety of definitions or none, and while some may
attach negative ideologies to what they perceive as third-wave feminism, some may be
unaware of such debates or identify as third wave in a purely chronological sense.
Likewise, others may consciously identify as third wave for ideological reasons, and
proudly associate that label with a pro-porn stance, or with a commitment to mixed
organising and the involvement of men, for example. However, as this current phase of the
UK WLM also includes feminists, such as those in my study, who explicitly do not wish to
be identified as third-wave feminists, because of the politics they associate with this term,
I suggest that self-identification must be respected. In order to respect the huge variety of
feminist self-definitions therefore, I suggest that media commentators, and indeed
scholars, should underline that the term third wave carries not only chronological
meaning, but, for many feminists, holds ideologies that they care not to be associated with
in any way, and in fact define their own politics against.
Note
1. Published works by Black feminists, including many radical feminists, can be viewed in a variety of sources,
much of which are online in the current WLM, coming from bloggers and commentators, but I would also refer
the reader to collected works in the explicitly radical feminist publications: Trouble & Strife magazine (2009)
and Bell and Klein’s (1996) reader ‘Radically Speaking’.
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Dr Finn Mackay is a Senior Lecturer in Sociology at the University of the West of England. She has
been involved in feminist activism for 20 years and in 2004 founded the London Feminist Network
and the revived London Reclaim the Night. With a professional background in Youth Work, before
returning to academia, Finn set up and managed domestic violence prevention and anti-bullying
programmes for a Local Education Authority in London. She is an Executive Member of the
Feminist & Women’s Studies Association, a Trustee of The Feminist Archive and an Ambassador
for the Worker’s Educational Association, and speaks and writes regularly on women’s liberation
and particularly on male violence against women. Her book on British feminist activism will be
published by Palgrave in March 2015.
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