Abstract
Me Not You: The Trouble with Mainstream Feminism contributes a timely exploration into the exclusivity of mainstream feminism. Responding to the recent social movement #MeToo, voicing outrage and exposing sexual assault within both Hollywood and our local communities, Phipps suggests that, rather than ‘me too’, mainstream feminism reflects more accurately ‘me, not you’. Phipps argues that mainstream feminism ignores the intersecting inequalities based on class, race, religion, (dis)ability, citizenship and gender identity facing all women who fall outside of the positionality of white-bourgeois-woman. The book is aptly dedicated to Black feminists and other feminists of colour, with the intention to relieve the pressure on these women to continually explain the privilege of ‘whiteness’ to white feminists. Instead, Phipps speaks directly to white feminists who have yet to question the history, goals and execution of the feminist movement they align themselves with. Phipps distinctly posits herself as deeply reflexive in her positionality as both ‘insider’ to mainstream feminism (as a white, feminist, academic scholar), and as an ‘outsider’ (through her positionality as a queer woman who has experienced classism throughout her academic career). Phipps is intent on clearing away the cobwebs of ignorance regarding the ideology that ‘feminism is for everyone’ and exposing whom mainstream feminism is really serving.
Drawing from a blend of feminist and queer theory, Phipps explores mainstream feminism’s long history of racism, classism and sexism, through the concepts of heteropatriarchy, racial capitalism and colonialism. Mainstream feminism is exposed as being grounded in a deep history of stealing from Black feminist creative energy and co-opting the hard work of Black feminist thought and movement, beginning with first wave feminism’s use of racism to propel the movement forward while actively oppressing people of colour. Similarly, through an examination of mainstream feminist and anti-sex-industry feminist arguments regarding the legitimacy of sex work and the ignoring of sex-workers’ safety, classism is exposed within mainstream feminist thought. Phipps explores how sex work is criminalised as a deterrent, detrimentally ignoring the impact of class and economic opportunity shaping women’s ‘choice’ in this area of work. Transphobia is also explored throughout the history of mainstream feminism, expressed in attempts to exclude transwomen from the movement. Phipps examines trans-exclusionary feminist arguments that invoke the idea of the ‘penis as a weapon’ in order to portray trans women as predators. This preoccupation with trans women’s bodies and genitalia has been used by trans-exclusionary feminists to weaponise a range of legal reforms which aim to exclude trans women from women-only spaces, despite the fact that trans women are more likely to experience sexual violence.
Phipps also explores the operation of white supremacy, ‘terror’ and ‘outrage’ within mainstream feminism. She identifies white supremacy in the ways in which resources are hoarded by white people in times of ecological and economic crisis, and in the exploitation of poor women and women of colour in performing vital labour without adequate remuneration. Similarly, ‘terror’ is addressed within the book as a tool used by mainstream feminism in regard to sexual violence. While terror is noted to have been mobilised positively, providing a basis for rape and sexual assault to be regarded as crime, Phipps highlights the negative impacts of the terror being mobilised alongside racism to stereotype men of colour, and poorer men as sexual predators – predators from whom (white) women must be protected. Finally, ‘outrage’ is addressed within the book as both a cathartic and righteous expression of injustice and inequality. However, Phipps also identifies the use of what she calls ‘political whiteness outrage’. Here, Phipps argues outrage becomes a performance, with the simplistic signing of an online petition or reposting a movement’s hashtag on social media being the sole investment required. This behaviour is referred to by Phipps as ‘transmission, rather than discussion’ (p. 83), and is identified as a frequent alternative to the exchange of ideas and active support desperately needed in relation to social issues requiring feminist attention and support.
Overall, Phipps emphasises the need for intersectionality within mainstream feminism, as not only are patriarchal social structures oppressing women, but these structures work in conjunction with other systems of oppression and inequality, such as capitalism and colonialism. While mainstream feminism is fighting so intently for ‘inclusion’, it is ignoring the need for the structures generating oppressions to be completely demolished and rebuilt from an ideology of inclusivity. There is a potential gap within the book regarding further exploration of the role mainstream feminism plays in the mishandling of intimate partner violence, particularly as domestic violence is known to impact women in a highly intersectional way (Brennan et al., 2019; Everhart and Hunnicutt, 2013; Mays, 2006). However, this book proves itself to be a provoking and introspective work. Phipps demonstrates the necessary removal of political whiteness from our feminist ideologies, our politics, and our behaviour in order to better serve all women. Whatever degree of awareness the reader enters this book with, Phipps encourages taking a long hard look at how you take up feminism, your privilege, and your ignorance.