Category: Gender issues

I haven’t written in a long time, partly because I did not really have a good theme to write about (menopause anyone?) and partly because I am organizing a conference that I am very excited about and spend most of my time on. This conference will showcase transnational feminist activism and scholarship that, in my opinion, has contributed to addressing diverse crises that humanity is facing, and therefore, the name of the conference is “Defending Humanity: Transnational feminist responses to violence and devaluation”. Please check out the conference program, you are all cordially invited, and it is possible to attend in person and virtually. Also – what do you think of the conference visual? I love it.

As we are advertising this conference, which by the way, is a wonderful team effort, someone left the following comment on facebook: “Hopefully this ‘feminist’ scholarship is reserved for actual females, not someone who ‘identifies as’”. I find it disconcerting that the writer assumes he (from the name, I doubt this was a “she” or “they”) knows what is right and wrong about other people’s gender identity. Don’t forget we are in Florida, where the political climate is very much in line with a statement like that. This means that efforts to recognize non-binary, non-heteronormative, non-cis gender identities as a normal part of human diversity are being silenced and, increasingly, criminalized.

I realize that as a heterosexual woman who has never really doubted her gender identity, I have not been very invested in this conversation. Partly, this seems to be appropriate, because I have rather been listening to others who know more about what it means to be excluded, harassed, and just constantly judged because of identifying in ways that some people find upsetting (and think they have a right to find upsetting). I don’t want to be mansplained about women’s issues, especially those that I have experience about AND am an expert in, so why should I take a prominent stance on transgender issues? Fine, but I am also making this easy for myself, not really engaging with potentially uncomfortable conversations, especially in a climate that has become so polarized and charged with bitterness, line-drawing, and yes, militarization, because just as when war is being prepared, it seems that one can only be “with us or against us” in this matter. I think of myself as a trans-inclusive feminist, but I feel often uneasy about swift and harsh labeling of a particular statement as transphobic when perhaps the content is more nuanced. On the trans-exclusive side, categorical disengagement can be observed when, as in the statement above, self-determination in matters of gender is simply denied.   

So, let me try to formulate my thoughts in a hopefully respectful and open manner. First off: I think of gender as social relations of power. All humans are part of this web of relations, some in more privileged positions, and some in more subordinate, even oppressed ones. There is a lot of wrestling going on in terms of understanding these hierarchies, e.g., which dimensions are the most damaging ones, and fighting to change them vs. fighting to keep them. As such, nobody’s position in this web is natural or forever fixed, and I also don’t think that anybody is forever “right” or “wrong” – we all have assumptions about what is important, and we will work toward those goals. If I am interested in gender justice and more gender equality, others are interested in a smooth-running society where gendered divisions of labor are not questioned. In which direction we are heading depends on which of these positions is more structurally powerful.

From my feminist perspective, patriarchal structures place men and women in a social hierarchy, but not only is this a dynamic process that can play out more or less damaging (compare, say, Afghanistan and Iceland), but it is also not the only hierarchy out there. I would also say that gender-binary thinking disadvantages non-binary and trans people more than patriarchy disadvantages women, because it pretends humans can only be “either or”, or in other words, it excludes rather than subordinates those who do not fit in the binary (women, in contrast, are integrated into patriarchy as inferiors, but not excluded from it). That may sound like a pretty abstract statement, but only if you have never experienced that membership in humanity is denied to you. Judith Butler writes eloquently about this (especially in this chapter of her 2004 book Undoing Gender) – thank you, Judith B., you have taken a lot of crap for your pathbreaking thinking!

This recognition of exclusion informs my trans-inclusive feminist position. I don’t see a reason to deny anybody the membership in femininity if that is how they identify. I also think that inclusivity and recognizing diversity is one of the important lessons that transnational feminism (see conference theme above!) has helped us learn – as women, as feminists, we might have some shared interests, but we also disagree and are sometimes divided over fundamental questions. But this should be the starting point, not the end, for searching for common ground and working together in respect and solidarity.    

Not all feminists (and other people socialized into heteronormative patriarchy) think this way. They think that “real women” are under threat when biological lines are blurred and transwomen are allowed into womanhood. Some who hold this position justify it with experiences of violence perpetrated by transwomen (which they do not consider women, but disguised men who steal their way into female spaces). I do not deny that such experiences exist. Only recently, a rather sensationalist story was carried by many news outlets about a Scottish transwoman, convicted of rape (when she still identified as a man), who was admitted to a women’s prison and then raped a female prisoner there. The rape survivor in this case was clearly not protected from a terrible act of sexual violence. No denying that.

But how is it possible to construct this story in a way as if trans women, especially the ones who have not altered their bodies and have penises, are the biggest menace to “real women” everywhere? How about we add a few points, such as a) prisons are spaces where many forms of violence are tolerated and where inmates of all genders are routinely denied their basic human right to physical integrity; b) this is worse in men’s prisons, which is bad for cis-men, but for transwomen – who are sometimes put there because they are seen as men – experience of sexual and other violence is almost guaranteed; c) women’s prisons foster many forms of sexual violence, not only by very rare examples where a transwoman is the perpetrator; d) prisons are spaces where convicted rapists are routinely in direct contact with the general prison population (typically of the same gender); they are a threat to the other inmates, and male-on-male rape is common – why does that not cause more outrage?

Rather than scandalizing an individual case of transgender rape, we should have a general discussion about such violence. After all, in terms of sexual violence, cis-men are the biggest threat to cis-women. And to others. At the same time, I do not doubt that there are some transgender people who are evil and violent, and a threat to others. That is because they are part of this large, diverse collective of humanity. Hitler was a human being. As far as I know, he was cis-gender and heterosexual, but strangely, this was never held against him.      

I think we need to negotiate our needs, especially competing needs, and feelings of discomfort or fear of threat on the basis of respect and recognition. And then we have to weigh these differences against each other and find a sufficiently satisfying balance. A position that denies another person their identity does not work for that kind of constructive engagement. In other words, if self-described “gender critical” feminists generically deny transwomen admission to womanhood, that is a non-starter.

But what about the more nuanced dynamic of feeling uncomfortable or confused by the newness that non-binary people constitute for people socialized into gender binaries? The bathroom debate, for example (or the pronouns … the sports teams …). There is nothing wrong with the desire to feel safe in a public restroom. As a footnote, this is a conversation that has never included cis-men because apparently, they already feel safe, which tells you something about gender and public bathrooms. As trans and non-binary people feel most terrified in public restrooms, because these have been sites of constant harassment for them, perhaps the focus should be on their safety first.

But how do we majority cis-gender women feel about transwomen in women’s bathrooms? Some express feeling threatened, but I suggest this is more a feeling of interrupted routine, of surprise, and perhaps of discomfort. What is threatening about a person who wants to use the bathroom and looks different than expected? Personally, I experienced as a teenager a unisex bathroom in Holland when this was not a thing AT ALL in my home country. I did not like it, because I had never seen urinals in a bathroom, and I did not want to pass by urinating men. At the time, this had nothing to do with gender inclusive bathrooms (even if it fulfilled this function), but it was a Dutch convention I was not used to and felt uncomfortable with. Could I get comfortable with it – most likely, if most of the Dutch people could. Is it legitimate to voice discomfort – I think so, but perhaps in recognition of other types of discomfort and as a contribution to a general discussion, not as an undisputable standard that needs to remain unchanged. After all, societies are systemically dynamic.

As a feminist, I have wanted a lot of changes that others have not wanted, and for the ones that did happen, I am sure some people felt and perhaps continue to feel uncomfortable about them. Gender sensitive language is one such area. I will never forget the work and impact of the hilariously funny German feminist linguist Luise Pusch (especially her 1991 Das Deutsche als Maennersprache). She showed how deeply engrained the male-form-as-standard is in the German language, which is very gender binary, different from English. This became sometimes rather bizarre, for example when tampon instructions were written in the male form, for a universal user. German is still binary, has changed a bit, with some alternative gendering forms catching on (again, this is a contested process, going on right now!!), and it is clear that social, here linguistic, conventions are negotiated and not natural.     

To conclude, I think it is time to recognize humanity in all forms, even those we are not used to or do not like. That means we can voice criticism, discomfort, or disagreement, but we should train the ability to put ourselves in the shoes of others and take their needs, especially the most pressing ones, seriously. Please don’t let me alone with this long, meandering monologue and let me hear your thoughts and reactions!   

I have left my temporary home in Sir Arthur Lewis Residence Hall (see above some last moment impressions – all of a sudden, everything looked so purple-beautiful …), returned to Miami and am reunited with my lovely family! In terms of climate, I do not have to adapt much, but other things remind me of the different worlds that the United States (especially Florida) and Trinidad and Tobago represent. No birds waking me up, but rather a lot of airplanes flying over our house. “Survival of the fittest” traffic – it is such a relief if you don’t have to be in it for a while. Will never forget that the Trinis honk to THANK each other – when another car lets you pass, you do a short “beep-beep”. That would probably be incomprehensible for a Floridian (both the letting pass and the thank-honking). On my morning walks, I am now greeting people I pass. Actually, many react. Let’s see how long I will keep up with it.

While I have returned, I still wanted to keep writing a bit longer. At the very least, I wanted to explain to you what I actually came to do in T&T. In this blog, I have mostly described what I found out walking around with open eyes in a new country and trying to make sense of it. This has not only been a fantastic experience, but also a very important part of my research, which in the end, is all about understanding social relations.  

More narrowly-scholarly, I came here to do a specific research project, endorsed and financed by the Fulbright Program (thank you, US government). Title: “Norms for whom? Caribbean engagements with global gender equality frameworks”. In this title, you can see two of my passions: gender equality and global frameworks. The latter means multilateral agreements, in form of treaties, platforms, goals – however governments want to call it. As many of you know, I have long worked on one specific such global framework, the United Nations Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW) – often called the women’s bill of rights. What most interests me is how states and societies use such global tools to make gender relations more equal, or in other words, if a global women’s rights treaty makes a difference in the lives of people.  

For now, I am particularly curious how global gender equality frameworks are used in Trinidad and Tobago (originally, I wanted to study other Caribbean countries as well, but Covid made me narrow things down). Let’s keep in mind that gender equality is a goal that no society has yet achieved, which means that there are traditions and institutions everywhere that rather support gender hierarchies, and let’s also not forget that there is no linear path of improvement, but rather a lot of two steps forward one step backward movements when it comes to making gender relations more equal.

Global gender equality frameworks acquire legitimacy through the approval of the world’s governments. However, influenced by de- and postcolonial literature, I have been wondering if these frameworks are really all that useful for small, geopolitically marginal, postcolonial societies like the ones in the Caribbean. What I mean by that is: While international agreements are influenced by many players – think of endless negotiations among the world’s state representatives – the interests of the most powerful actors are always dominant. Considering these power relations, how much room is there for Caribbean realities and needs, in particular if they are different from, or even contrary to, those of the most powerful players?

It is quite interesting how representatives of small states navigate international relations. They know they cannot get everything their countries need but they try to get as much as possible, for which they need to consider the preferences of those powerful players they depend on. Often, this makes for careful and considerate politics within a problematic status quo. Sometimes, you also see some open challenge of that status quo, as in several socialist/leaning experiments in the Caribbean during the Cold War (e.g., Grenada, Guyana, Jamaica). The regional superpower made clear what it thought of it; other small states took notice and behaved accordingly, for their own “self-preservation”.   

In this hierarchical world, how have global gender equality agreements influenced Caribbean societies? Have they helped address gender hierarchies, or are they too far removed from the real-world problems of Caribbean women and men? To approach this question, I have thought of three research dimensions: first, learn about how gender relations manifest themselves in the Caribbean and how Caribbean feminist activists have tried to transform them; second, find out how Caribbean feminist voices have influenced global frameworks; and third, look at governmental and societal work on gender issues and see if and how global norms are used. I am reading tons of literature, newspaper clippings, reports etc., and I have been interviewing several fascinating people. Thanks to zoom, I will continue doing this now that I am not anymore in the country – as a matter of fact, even while in Trinidad, most conversations took place on screen.

Thus far, several things have become clear to me: first, I still have much to learn, which is exciting and will keep me busy for a while. In other words, I am not “done” with my “field work”, but rather feel I have just started to be part of a very interesting, complex, and pathbreaking feminist conversation. Second, there are no neat separations of levels of analysis or roles of individual actors. Implicitly, I organized my research question that way: global-domestic; governmental actor; civil society activist; scholar/ expert. What I have found is – let’s call it passionate multitasking. It is not uncommon for feminists to bridge roles, such as being a scholar and an activist. But in the Caribbean, I found people who a) created/ are creating pathbreaking feminist scholarship, b) founded and engage in several civil society organizations, c) work with or for the government providing gender expertise, and d) represent their country in international organizations. These different roles, as you can imagine, don’t always harmonize, and people do not do all of this at the same time but move out of one role and into another, but I was still struck by the way in which these elements came together. Scholarship as a passion; duty to one’s nation; engagement with grassroots organizations; working in international organizations.

These women defy the assumption that global agreements could completely sideline Caribbean interests because they know everything about gender relations in the region, are connected to “ordinary” Caribbean people, and have made their interests loud and clear. Not surprisingly, Caribbean activists have been instrumental, especially in the 1980s and 90s, to internationally articulate the perspectives of women from the Global South. “Smallness” of Caribbean countries seems to be key for this position – one can develop a close relationship to both the government and several segments of society. Also, the governments are very actively multilaterally engaged.

Here are some big names (and pics) of international-domestic passionate feminist multitaskers two of which I had the pleasure and honor to meet: Peggy Antrobus; Roberta Clarke; Lucille Mair; Patricia Mohammed; Rhoda Reddock.  

Also, I am still figuring out how to think about “gender relations here”. The first thing I realized is that it makes no sense to think of gender as a stand-alone category. I have written before about the hybridity of T&T society, based on the historical division and hierarchy among ethnic groups – white Europeans, Black and colored people (free or enslaved), and indentured Indians (and some smaller groups such as Amerindians and Chinese). Gender relations are tied into these ethnic groups and resulting class hierarchies; the life of a white woman had not much in common with an Indian woman, for example.

Some assumptions about gender relations that seem to be quite established (but fit better to European realities) do not apply here. In particular, the idea that a woman who does not work is in a weak position and entirely dependent on her husband. Historically, in the Caribbean, the only women who did not work were those of the white elite: they oversaw domestic servants, entertained, or were active in charitable organizations. All other women worked. During the 19^th century, that typically meant extremely hard, physical labor in agriculture, alongside the men of their group, but for lower pay. In the early 20^th century, society slowly moved away from the most gruesome forms of labor exploitation (indentureship ends in 1921). At the same time, resentment against colonialism was forming, and this led to independence in 1962, but nonetheless, what was considered a modern, progressive, “better” way of doing things was very heavily associated with how things were done in Great Britain/ by the white elite. Hence, while white Europeans were a tiny part of T&T society, they represented a position that the black and colored middle class aspired to. Education was a way to get there for men (see the career of Eric Williams, last post). For women, education was also important, but their education had a specific goal: that of “respectable womanhood” in support of the male head of household.         

I should say that these efforts were more appealing to the middle classes who could hope for some return if they bought into Eurocentric traditions; but working-class Trinbagonians were less impressed. As is true for most working-class people around the world, gender roles were relatively equal, in the quest to secure collective subsistence. Women were also extremely visible in the labor disturbances of the first four decades of the 20^th century, even if the most prominent leaders were typically men (the labor leader Elma Francois is an exception in this regard). There was some difference between Afro-Trinidadians and Indo-Trinidadians; the latter group emphasized a more domestic, secluded role for women in order to maintain their Eastern cultural traditions.  

However, something surprising happens in the first half of the 20^th century, as I learned from Rhoda Reddock’s pathbreaking 1994 book “Women, Labour and Politics in Trinidad and Tobago. A history”: women become “housewifed” (those who remember this term as one coined by Maria Mies: she was Rhoda Reddock’s dissertation supervisor). Women’s identity gets rewired from being a core part of the working class to being mainly responsible for family reproduction, and that task is partly framed as a dignified support role, and partly made invisible (and with that, detached from value and remuneration). In parallel to this new ideology – let’s call it “respectable gender complementarity” – there was a material trend: the oil industry, a male-dominated field of employment, replaced agriculture as the dominant economic sector. Hence, women’s labor force participation dropped significantly. Part of that drop was also the redefinition of women who continued to work in agriculture as “supporting family workers”. The “real” worker, in statistical terms, was the male head of household. The process is of course more complex than I can describe here, but what is fascinating is that there was a colonial aim of “uplifting” the population by imitating British gender relations, and this meant to educate people. However, the education was very gender segregated: it opened many doors for middle class men (e.g., medicine, engineering), but for women, it meant to be educated into supportive housewives.   

Since independence, educational opportunities for women have widened and more young women than men now attend university. This is something Caribbean states are proud of, sometimes perhaps even scared of – starting in the 1990s, there have been intense public debates on the marginalization of men (mostly young, poor men). The more unfortunate parts of this debate have blamed the dominance of women for the emasculation of men, but it also became clear that the needs of men have to be considered in public gender policies, especially of men whose futures are crushed by economic crises.

In present day T&T, women are VERY present. Their high level of education still does not translate into equal pay and equal political representation, but they are visible as public servants, business owners, and all kinds of professionals such as teachers and university faculty; they also remain crucial pillars of their communities and families, as mothers, often single heads of household, child minders in other ways (aunties/ grandmothers/ neighbors …), informal vendors, etc.  

On the one hand there is this distinct female visibility that even men are very clear about. On the other hand, Trinidad and Tobago is strongly influenced by conservative and patriarchal institutions such as the Catholic Church. Of course, many women are devout Catholics, but the strength of the church means that issues such as sex education and access to contraceptives are still a bit of taboo topics. Abortion is not legal. Neither is sex work. Also, while there is a good system of paid (!!! Are you listening, United States???) maternity leave in place, there is NO parental leave, except for three days a father is entitled to take. I admit that surprised me in a society with women so self-reliant and outspoken. I don’t think there is ANY policy that can more effectively equalize gender roles within the family than parental leave that truly allows fathers to actually father their newborn and small children.  Perhaps this has something to do with a perceived strength of women and their networks, who have since time immemorial been responsible for raising children?  

Another oddity: the discrimination against LGBTQI people. There is increasing activism and I think one can say slow societal changes are happening. However, sexual orientation and gender identity are categories excluded as ground for discrimination that is prohibited in the Equal Opportunities Act (2000). I find it hard to understand that in a society that has been handling so many differences, that is really a model of tolerance in many ways, THIS particular issue – that each person should have the right to fall in love with whom they feel attracted to – seems so unacceptable. Let me blame it on the Catholic Church (sorry, but you have just messed up too much over the centuries): In my newspaper clipping reading, I found a remarkable statement from 1985 (ok, that is long ago, but it’s still quite a read). The archbishop explains the attitude of the Church toward homosexuals, and he makes clear that they want to “leave no one, absolutely no one, behind”. And then, he says stuff like this: “Especially is it important to help homosexuals not to have a low self-image or deprive themselves of self-respect by leading them to believe they are perverse beyond redemption”. And this: “Homosexual tendencies can come from several sources, not all equally blame worthy, and this has to be taken into account. In any case, having a tendency is one thing, following the tendency is quite another.”

I did not even delve into the tremendous level of gender-based violence, but I will leave that out for now. The post is already too long, and thank you all for reading through it! As you can see, the scholar in me could not limit herself to a reasonable word count. What else is new 😊