Backlash: The Undeclared War Against American Women
Susan Faludi
ACCLAIM FOR
Backlash: The Undeclared War
“As groundbreaking . . . as its two important predecessors, Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex and Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique . . . gripping.”
—LAURA SHAPIRO, Newsweek
“Fiery, scintillating . . . deserves the largest possible readership.”
—Booklist
“A landmark book.”—San Diego Union
“Spellbinding and frightening, this book is a wake-up call to the men as well as the women who are struggling to build a gender-respectful society.”
—ROBERT REICH, author of The Work of Nations
Brilliant reportage . . . astunning debut.”
—Kirkus Reviews
—Chicago Tribune
“Enraging, enlightening, and invigorating, Backlash is, most of all, true.”—New York Newsday
“Faludi argues with great passion and impressive research. . . . Backlash may even be the catalyst for a new wave of activism.”
—Vanity Fair
“The backlash against women is real. This is the book we need to help us understand it, to struggle through the battle fatigue, and to keep going.”
—ALICE WALKER
“Thought-provoking, inspiring, and truly groundbreaking, Backlash is a must-read for women across the nation.”
—ELEANOR SMEAL, President, The Fund for the Feminist Majority
“Faludi gives so many examples of reporting skewed to emphasize the adverse effects of independence and nontraditional roles for women, when ample evidence exists that such effects are often transitory, that one is left with no doubt that she is right.”
—DIANE JOHNSON, The New York Review of Books
“[Backlash is] wholly convincing and more than a little alarming.”
—The New Yorker
“Withering commentary . . . This eloquent, brilliantly argued book should be read by everyone concerned about gender equality.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Smartly written, extraordinarily reported.”
—M magazine
“Backlash is a crucial book on a crucial subject. With great insight and wit, Faludi identifies the obstacles to women’s equality and directs us toward more promising responses.”
—DEBORAH L. RHODE, Professor of Law, Stanford Law School, and former Director, Institute on Women and Gender, Stanford
“If you believe . . . that equality is good for women, and that traditional gender roles are mandated unfairly by culture, not nature, you’ll find this book a valuable resource.”
—WENDY KAMINER, The Atlantic
To my mother, Marilyn Lanning Faludi
Contents
Preface to the Fifteenth Anniversary Edition
1 Introduction: Blame It on Feminism
PART ONE
Myths and Flashbacks
2 Man Shortages and Barren Wombs:
The Myths of the Backlash
3 Backlashes Then and Now
PART TWO
The Backlash in Popular Culture
4 The “Trends” of Antifeminism:
The Media and the Backlash
5 Fatal and Fetal Visions:
The Backlash in the Movies
6 Teen Angels and Unwed Witches:
The Backlash on TV
7 Dressing the Dolls: The Fashion Backlash
8 Beauty and the Backlash
PART THREE
Origins of a Reaction:
Backlash Movers, Shakers, and Thinkers
9 The Politics of Resentment:
The New Right’s War on Women
10 Ms. Smith Leaves Washington:
The Backlash in National Politics
11 The Backlash Brain Trust: From Neocons to Neofems
George Gilder: “America’s Number-One Antifeminist”
Allan Bloom: A Refugee from the Feminist Occupation
Michael and Margarita Levin: Boys Don’t Cook and Girls Don’t Do Long Division
Warren Farrell: The Liberated Man Recants
Robert Bly: Turning “Yogurt Eaters” into “Wild Men”
Sylvia Ann Hewlett: The Neofeminist’s Lesser Work
Betty Friedan: Revisionism as a Marketing Tool
Carol Gilligan: Different Voices or Victorian Echoes?
PART FOUR
Backlashings: The Effects on Women’s Minds, Jobs, and Bodies
12 It’s All in Your Mind:
Popular Psychology Joins the Backlash
13 The Wages of the Backlash:
The Toll on Working Women
14 Reproductive Rights Under the Backlash:
The Invasion of Women’s Bodies
Epilogue
Notes
Acknowledgments
Preface to the Fifteenth Anniversary Edition
EVERY SO OFTEN that perennial media topic “Whither the women’s movement?” gets trotted out for examination, or rather for exorcism—“Wither the women’s movement” might be a more accurate rendering of press sentiments. When it does, my phone often rings and a mildly irritated reporter asks, or rather huffs, the inevitable question: “Is there still a backlash?”
Because the reporter’s query is more of a complaint (“Aren’t you done with this feminism business by now?”), it’s hard not to respond in kind (“Aren’t you sick of this let’s-attack-feminism business by now?”). Yet when I sat down to consider how to introduce the book I first published 15 years ago, I found myself bedeviled by a version of that same question: Is there a backlash? Still?
The answer, unfortunately, is no.
“Unfortunately,” because it turns out there are some things worse than backlash.
Back in the ’80s, the slightest sign that women were exercising their independence set the culture hounds to baying. Were young women deferring nuptials for higher education? “You’re more likely to be killed by a terrorist than to kiss a groom!” the newsweeklies howled. Were older women postponing childbirth to pursue work they cared about? “Your biological clock will strike midnight, and you’ll turn into a barren pumpkin!” the “lifestyle” media mavens screeched. Were single women breaking courtship rules and taking the sexual initiative? “You’ll turn into a psycho-killer and meet your maker in an overflowing bathtub!” the Hollywood mullahs decreed.
Ah, the good old days.
The backlash scolds are less in evidence now, so much less that to grouse about the few remaining haranguers would seem to quibble with success. When was the last time a twisted single woman boiled a bunny in a feature film? We appear to have vanquished those daily amber alerts about the “man shortage,” the “infertility epidemic,” and the “dark side of divorce,” not to mention the Job-like plagues of nervous prostration, heart disease, alcoholism, hair loss, and adult acne that were once said to be afflicting every hard-charging “career woman.”
Yes, there are still the periodic reprimands, though generally they are presented as the products of a woman’s “choice.” The backlash is now said to be a strictly self-inflicted affair. That was the message of a front-page New York Times story on September 20, 2005 that asserted that “many” female undergraduates at Ivy League colleges planned to junk their high-priced educations and stay home to tend to their babies. (“I don’t mind the status quo,” a Yale sophomore cheerfully told the Times. “I don’t see why I have to go against it.”) “Choice” was also the point of the New York Times Magazine cover story on October 26, 2003, “The Opt-Out Revolution,” which asserted that many female careerists were foregoing their fat salaries (though not their husbands’) in favor of the stroller-pushing suburban life. (“I don
’t want to be famous,” one opt-outer told the Times. “I don’t want to conquer the world.”) And that was the theme struck in a “60 Minutes” report in April 2002 that held that “more and more” professional women were berating themselves for their “choice” and cashing in their life’s savings for infertility treatments.
But these let’s-turn-back-the-clock appeals in the media lack the adamancy of the backlash “trend” stories of the ’80s. The New York Times nervously hedged in its article on the Ivy League future homemakers, conceding that “changing attitudes are difficult to quantify.” (Indeed, the results of the newspaper’s e-mail survey of female students turned out to be hopelessly flawed, as a number of commentators later pointed out.) The author of the New York Times Magazine’s “Opt-Out Revolution” conceded that her conclusions were “not a scientific sample.” Even the writer of Atlantic’s March 2004 cover-story attack on working mothers who hire nannies, Caitlin Flanagan, confessed that she, too, employed a nanny.
The ’80s-style carpet bombing of emancipated women appears to have been called off. What we hear now seems to be nothing more than random sniper fire. We’re told that feminism has faded into the background because its aims have largely been achieved. We’re told that young women don’t identify with feminism anymore because they don’t need to. As the young Yale undergraduate said in the Times, there’s nothing left to “go against.”
On paper, at least, the undergrad appears to have a point. Women have made slow but steady gains in the last 25 years. They now represent nearly 60 percent of undergraduates, two-thirds of journalism school enrollments, and half of medical and law school students. The pay gap between men and women has narrowed by about a dozen percentage points in the last couple of decades (although 60 percent of that “improvement” is actually due to a decline in men’s real earnings, not a rise in women’s wages). About 15 percent of congressmen are congresswomen, hardly what you’d cll representative democracy but better than the mere 3 percent who were female in the House and Senate in 1979. Women own about 38 percent of all businesses (although most are small and struggling businesses in the service sector). And 86 percent of Fortune 500 companies have at least one woman on their boards (albeit in most cases just one woman).
We should be pleased with our progress.
So why, as I survey the American gender landscape today, a landscape that has accommodated and to some extent been shaped by “liberated” women of my generation, do I feel so uneasy? Doesn’t the lack of conflict suggest that feminists routed their enemies? Isn’t this silence the silence after the battle, the silence of Agincourt?
Maybe. But something tells me we are elsewhere. Somewhere like Heraclea, that ancient Roman battlefield where King Pyrrhus famously bemoaned his blood-soaked win with the words, “Such another victory and we are undone!”
• • •
IN THE early ’90s, after the long despond of the Reagan years, American women shook off their torpor and began again to fight. The televised sexist spectacle of the Senate Judiciary Committee members mocking Anita Hill’s allegations of sexual harassment against Supreme Court nominee Clarence Thomas proved one humiliation too many for female viewers to witness. After all this time, indignant women told each other across the nation, these men still “don’t get it.” Indignation led to anger, which led to mobilization, which, by the spring of 1992, led to a massive pro-choice demonstration in Washington (one of the largest protest rallies of any kind in the nation’s capital), the birth of dramatically effective feminist PACs like Emily’s List, and a record number of progressive women running for national office.
But women’s political awakening provoked instant political reprisal. The speakers at the Republican National Convention in the summer of 1992 couldn’t get off the subject, and their panic was evident in their hyperbole. A feminist army, they wailed, had invaded our culture, our TV sets (where a fictional woman was “mocking the importance of a father,” as Bush I’s running mate famously seethed on stage), our political system (where, as Pat Buchanan fulminated, the latest Democratic National Convention constituted “the greatest single exhibition of cross-dressing in American history”), and the hearts and minds of our women (whom feminists, the veep-candidate’s wife told the assembled, intended to strip of “their essential natures”).
The speakers weren’t wrong to worry. On Election Day, the “cross-dressers” prevailed. Senate victories went to Barbara Boxer, Dianne Fein-stein, Patty Murray, and Carol Moseley-Braun, women who had run not only on the Democratic ballot but under a feminist banner. In the House of Representatives, women’s numbers jumped from 28 to 47. The Democratic Party’s emphasis on defending women’s liberties—and the Republican Party’s attack on the same—also inspired an unprecedented 28 percent of GOP women to defect from their own party at the polls. As even the usually feminist-averse media had to concede, 1992 was shaping up to be the “Year of the Woman.”
The year proved short. In a matter of months, the right wing ushered in the modern misogynist version of the Thermidorian Reaction. Like their French forebears, whose mask of moderation concealed what turned out to be a power grab, the antifeminist counterrevolutionaries cloaked their ultimate intentions in “kinder, gentler” drapery. By forcing women’s concerns to the forefront of the political stage, feminists had helped elect a Democrat to the White House and had nearly barred the conservative choice for Supreme Court justice. Now the conservatives intended to stage a coup by beating the women’s movement at its own game. This time, they would do the cross-dressing. Casting themselves as the feminist defenders of female dignity, the right-wing architects promised to emancipate the nation’s women from the clutches of the Groper in Chief. And so it was that the greatest legal assault on liberalism in modern times would be mounted as a defense of women’s rights.
The showcased actors in this liberation masquerade were mostly women. And they weren’t the old antifeminist warrior queens. Phyllis Schlafly with her Eagle Forum blue-rinse set and Beverly LaHaye with her Concerned Women for America “ladies” played only supporting roles this time. The new script featured neocon women who claimed to be neofeminists. The neofems hailed from emancipatory-sounding organizations like the Independent Women’s Forum and the Network for Empowering Women (lavishly funded by the right-wing foundation troika of Scaife, Olin, and Bradley and staffed by graduates of the Heritage Foundation, the American Enterprise Institute, and the Bush I and II administrations). The neofems authored books with titles that suggested a slant toward women’s independence, like Elizabeth Fox-Genovese’s Feminism Without Illusions or Christina Hoff Sommers’s Who Stole Feminism? (the latter also bankrolled by right-wing foundations). The neofems paraded their sexually liberated libidos before the titillated media. Ann Coulter with her omnipresent thighs on Fox News and Laura Ingraham in her leopard-print micromini on the cover of the New York Times Magazine positioned themselves as the next wave’s Germaine Greer and Gloria Steinem—“a second revolution in the women’s movement,” as the Washington Times enthused, the progeny of “the 1970s feminists who burned their bras.”
The same male conservatives who had been desperate to rein in women’s political advances were happy to elevate their sister travelers—as long as it was to posts where they could rein in other women’s political advances. As Tanya Melich noted in The Republican War Against Women, Newt Gingrich took pains to fill the lead slot and five of the top seven posts in the National Republican Congressional Committee with female faces. And the strategy paid off. In 19101, in a mirror image of the Democrats in ’92, six new Republican female candidates, all of whom opposed abortion rights and were cultivated by the New Right, landed seats in the House of Representatives. That same year, one of Gingrich’s favorites, Republican congresswoman Susan Molinari, sponsored a piece of legislation that was to be essential to the attack on the Clinton presidency. The bill allowed courts to pry into the consensual sexual history of defendants in civil cases involving sexual assault—and the wording d
efined sexual assault so broadly that it encompassed unwanted touching. This was the very offense that Paula Jones would allege in her sexual-harassment civil suit against Clinton. And this was the law that Judge Susan Webber Wright invoked when she ordered Clinton to testify about his other consensual dalliances. Molinari, intentionally or not, laid the trap that sprang for impeachment.
• • •
WHILE THE right wing and its sleeper cell of pod feminists were busy hijacking feminism and crashing it into the Oval Office, what were the rest of the nation’s women doing? Fighting back? Taking to the streets? Campaigning for another slate of genuinely feminist candidates? Alas, they were running in a very different race. As it happened, the right wing wasn’t the only demographic pursuing a distorted version of feminism. So was much of mainstream female America.
Which is why, as I say, there are some things worse than backlash.
The race American women were running was one that students of Ovid’s Metamorphoses might find familiar. “You may have heard about a girl who could outrun the swiftest men,” Venus recounts in Ovid’s “The Story of Atalanta.” When the fleet and fair Atalanta consults the oracle on her future marital status, she is warned to steer clear of wedlock. “Avoid that habit!” the oracle instructs. “Still, I know you will not: you will keep your life, and lose yourself.” Atalanta manages to maintain her independence for a while, by arranging races where she outruns her suitors. Until the god Hippomenes takes up Atalanta’s challenge to catch her in a race. Hippomenes conspires with Venus, who arms him with three golden apples. On race day, as Atalanta pulls ahead, Hippomenes rolls the golden apples, one by one, in her path. Distracted, she slows to scoop up the glittering fruit, and cedes her front-runner status. Atalanta, who’d met every direct confrontation she ever faced, trades her freedom for baubles.
