The end of one year and the start of another has always been a popular time for reflection. Lately I have been reflecting on what it means to be a feminist. I have been trying to understand what it means to act as a feminist, and how to promote feminism to others as a positive cause/movement/way of living. There are questions I'm seeking answers to which I cannot find. Why is it still such a misunderstood term? Why are people still so afraid to call themselves feminists? Is it selfish or naïve of me to want others to embrace a status that I believe to be the right way of thinking for all? How can feminism be more accessible to all?
Reframing the Fight
As I sort through these unanswered questions and many more, so many thoughts rush through my head. One part of me wonders if feminism needs a new name. Would more people embrace it if it was called "equalism"? I can see more people (especially men) calling themselves "equalists" than "feminists." Why? Because "fem-" implies it's for women only. But then another part of me yells "for shame!" at myself for even trying to imagine changing the name of something that so many who came before me have worked to build up. Who am I, at the tender age of 25, to try to do image consulting for feminism -- clean it all up, re-label it, re-package it, and sell it as something new and improved? I end up wanting to spit on those thoughts. I ache thinking of the hundreds of years women have fought and died in the name of feminism for my rights, for my freedoms, for my ability to live, and learn, and write in the kind of world I do today. So, no; perhaps an image makeover for feminism is blasphemy. But what, then? What can be done to help lift the veil of unease and ignorance burdening our fight? Why is as basic a thing as equality so hard to sell?
Remembering the Fourteen, and So Many More
Perhaps I should share what really got me thinking on this subject, and fretting over why feminism is still such a dirty word, with no end in sight to the bad connotations it has for so many people. It was December 6th, the 18th anniversary of The Montreal Massacre. I went to a local vigil, and it got me thinking, more than in past years, about the whole ordeal. I'm not sure why this year hit me more than most. Maybe because the older I get the more violence against women I am aware of. Maybe because I noticed this year that many of the fourteen women were younger than I am now when they were murdered, and that somehow put into perspective just how short their lives had been. Maybe it was because this year I dedicated the work our local Sexual Assault Crisis and Prevention Centre does to the memory of one of the women, and that made me think of how much more needs to be done. Maybe it was because I got lost in imagining it all.
First I imagined what it was really like. Not to die; none of us living know what that's like, but I imagined the loss. I imagined December 6th, 1989. Less than three weeks before Christmas. Relatives and friends coming home for the holidays. Presents for these women already picked out with love. Anticipation of holiday reunions in their hearts. I picture Maryse Laganière. She was 25, the same age as I am now. And she wasn't a student; she was a budget clerk in the École Polytechnique's finance department. She was just at work, and for being female, she got caught in the twisted political murder and lost her life that day.
Several times at the vigil I just fell apart, thinking of these women's sisters, and brothers, and fathers, and mothers. I thought of proud parents who raised these women to do what they wanted in life. Who supported them to pursue a career in engineering without a second thought about it being a male-dominated field. Because why should it deserve a second thought? And I pictured those mothers and fathers standing over their daughters' coffins, wondering how the hell this had all happened.
More imagining came from a day this week I spent researching the massacre online, trying to better understand the tragedy. The details are obviously horrific, but certain images stand out in my mind. One is of Pierre Leclair, who at the time was the Director of Public Relations for the Montreal Police. After he spoke with reporters on the situation, upon hearing the killer was dead, he went inside the building, only to find his daughter Maryse Leclair's body, shot and stabbed to death. She was the only one Lépine (the murderer) had stabbed. She had called out for help after he shot her, so he walked over to her and stabbed her to death. I cannot begin to imagine Pierre Leclair's experience that day walking into that classroom.
Making it Make Sense (and Knowing it Doesn't)
So how the hell did this all happen? And how much closer are we to understanding what it all means, eighteen years later? The isolated-act-of-a-madman theory vs. the extreme-example-of-everyday-misogyny theory were (and to some extent, still are) hotly debated topics following the massacre. There are those who recognized this immediately as part of the 'war on women' and saw it as a time for society to take notice of, and examine, sexist behaviors. Others refused to link such extreme violence with everyday inequalities. Some were comforted perhaps by the idea that this was a complete anomaly -- that this killer's problem had nothing to do with the way we treat women in society. But no matter how much you remove "society" from the events which took place that day, you can't erase the fact that Lépine was clear in his hatred for feminists, especially when he declared (en français) "You're all a bunch of feminists. I hate feminists!" before opening fire on the group of women he had separated out from the men. He was clear, he was direct: he was on a 'feminist fighting' mission. I ask again where it all went wrong with what feminism means.
While searching online for information, I came across a translated version of Lépine's suicide letter. There are two quotes I would like to share with you all:
1. "I have decided to send the feminists, who have always ruined my life, to their Maker."
2. "...the feminists have always enraged me. They want to keep the advantages of women (e.g. cheaper insurance, extended maternity leave preceded by a preventative leave, etc.) while seizing for themselves those of men. Thus it is an obvious truth that if the Olympic Games removed the men/women distinction, there would be women only in the graceful events. So the feminists are not fighting to remove that barrier."
The absurdity of his examples somehow chills me. It seems clear he was a misogynist, but his letter surprised me. It was surprising in its lack of swearing, lack of rage... Simply put, it would comfort me if he seemed a little more unstable. It discomforts me to know that he was murderously enraged by things like maternity leave. Now I know what you're thinking -- he was not an average human being, average people are not killers -- but still, complaining about his lack of a right to maternity leave in a suicide note before slaughtering fourteen women? Being jealous of cheaper car insurance? Talking about the supposedly advantageous categories in the Olympic Games? The whole letter seemed completely bizarre (give the whole thing a read if you're curious), but haunting in its attention to everyday gender distinctions, while ignoring the larger inequalities. Sure, Lépine was a murderer, and not your everyday guy, and there was a lifetime of circumstances which lead to his actions, but how many people share his dislike of women? How many men, still today, feel we are somehow 'getting ahead'? Is this how feminists are viewed by some: as selfish promoters of more and more benefits for women with no consideration for how anything affects men? When is feminism going to be understood publicly as a fight for equality?
Questioning the Backlash
At least one man made public his disgust about holding vigils on December 6th. In Canada, it is the National Day of Remembrance and Action on Violence Against Women, and apparently this makes some people angry. In a report from CBC news seven years ago, I learned about professor Charles Rackoff. In December of 2000, Rackoff (a computer sciences faculty member at U of T), received an e-mail announcing the university's December 6th vigil, and he replied to it with these words: "It is obvious that the point of this is not to remember anyone. The point is to use the death of these people as an excuse to promote the feminist/extreme left-wing agenda... It is no different, and no more justified, than when organizations such as the Klu-Klux-Klan [sic] use the murder of a white person by a black person as an excuse to promote their agenda. (Even the KKK, as far as I know, has never suggested that all black people should wear white ribbons to apologize for the collective sins of their race.)"
Ouch. I know these comments are fortunately rare. But they still exist, and (I feel) are indicative of many undercurrents like this of anti-feminist sentiments existing everywhere. Rackoff, and perhaps others, don't feel it's right to "use" the deaths of fourteen women to promote an effort to stop violence against women. How was a National Day of Remembrance and Action on Violence Against Women thought of as extreme left wing propaganda? How is basic equality thought of as radical? When will people stop being afraid of feminists and start learning something about them?
This goes back to one of my original questions, which remains: Why is feminism still such a misunderstood term? I think, in many ways, it's a tribute to our lack of growth as a society, especially since 1989, the anniversary of the Montreal Massacre: that the work of feminists is still considered "radical" by most of the public. Why do people think of it as radical? It was radical, yes, back when women weren't considered people. It being considered radical today just drives home the point that we're far from equality. It simply further alienates what we do from the norm. How can equality become the norm? How can we make the slogan "First mourn, then work for change" matter? How can we turn tears, sadness, and fear at vigils into motivation for positive change? How can we be sure these women's deaths were not in vain?
Resolutions for Change
These are a lot of unanswered questions, I know. And with a heavy heart, I try to imagine the good which came out of, and can still come out of, such tragedy. I put all these questions to you, dear readers, in an attempt to stir creative thinking about how feminism can become something understandable by, and accessible to, all. I put these questions to you, and to myself, so that maybe somewhere in our thoughts about New Year's resolutions we can leave room for trying to promote equality in honor of these women and all women who have died as the result of violence by men. So I challenge you all to help me understand what can be done to stop the war on women, and stop the war on feminism. Either through your own thinking on it, or through comments you can post under this, my wish is for us all to scratch our heads a little harder this year on why feminism is still so feared/misunderstood by so many, and why feminists are still considered so radical, even eighteen years after our society promised to work for change.
About the Author
Emilie Bourque was born, raised, and currently resides in St. John's, on the rocky island of Newfoundland, in Canada. People are her passion, and she can usually be found either interviewing them, writing about them, thinking about them, or serving them supper. She is a feminist, a freelance journalist, an activist, a restaurant server, a crisis line volunteer, and an aunt.
your comments on this subject has made me think. I think most of the time the word feminism is missunderstood. Men in particular are very afraid of this word, most think that means give all power to women and let men be the second best. This is the main worry of men. I really do think that feminism must be defined again and expalined in simple terms for all to understand. The objectives of it made clear and posted all over internet and media. I a Kurdish women living in Kurdistan of Iraq. I run a women's orgnaization, and almost all the time when men ask me about whether i am a feminist or not, they are worried about the answer in case I say yes.
Thank you so much for your comments on this Chilura, it inspires me to know that women all over the world are thinking about and challenging what it means to be a feminist.
My main focus in art is color, design and composition. I have a true passion for color as the art subject itself - how colors fit together, how they communicate with each other within the design, how certain colors combined with one another evoke a certain feeling - this is paramount in my work. I am a social worker, artist and poet living in Austin, TX. Read More...
Emilie Bourque was born, raised, and currently resides in St. John's, on the rocky island of Newfoundland, in Canada. People are her passion, and she can usually be found either interviewing them, writing about them, thinking about them, or serving them supper. She is a feminist, a freelance journalist, an activist, a restaurant server, a crisis line volunteer, and an aunt.
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