I recently read Roxane Gay’s Bad Feminist. It was far better than I was expecting. The essays are personal and humorous yet address a lot of serious and deep issues. Her takedown of trigger warnings is particularly good. The essays are best when sticking to specific topics like the critiques of The Help, 50 Shades, The Hunger Games, Twilight, 12 Years a Slave, and Tyler Perry’s work. The inside look of the professional Scrabble scene is entertaining.
The essays get a bit worse when being more general. Sometimes back-to-back essays contradict each other. In one she argues that there should be more diverse representation in TV, movies, and books, because people have a hard time relating to people that don’t look like them. In the next, she spends 5,000 words about how deeply she identified with the white girls in Sweet Valley High. How are we supposed to take the previous essay seriously after that?
The most cringe-worthy part had to do with the elusive concept of “patriarchy.” She had just gotten through critiquing Hanna Rosin’s The End of Men, which provides a book-long study with evidence and statistics to argue that patriarchy is essentially dead.
Gay’s sophisticated response to this was to laugh it off. Ha ha ha. Of course it’s not dead. Just look around you. It is so obvious we live in a patriarchy. Sorry Gay, but you can’t argue against the conclusion of an entire book by saying the conclusion is “obviously” incorrect.
Let me begin with a (fictional) story. In college I took a lot of physics. One day the professor gave a bunch of solid arguments with evidence and studies to back it up that the Earth goes around the Sun. I burst out laughing. It was so obviously false a conclusion.
I raised my hand, ready to embarrass the professor. I pointed out that I see the Sun go around the Earth every single day with my own two eyes. He might have had some fancy arguments, but I had obviousness on my side.
It is an unfortunate truth that much of what seems obvious (we can even produce convincing arguments!) is often wrong. This is exactly what is happening when Gay’s rebuttal is: look at the political system, most of Congress is men, we’ve never had a woman president, thus men hold all the political power.
That is convincing on its surface like the Sun going around the Earth is convincing on its surface. The gender of elected officials is one metric to measure political power. Can we think of any other?
Maybe we should take the premise of a representational democracy seriously and say the electorate have the power, because they elect members of congress. Who votes more? Well, women do! Now we’re at an impasse, because one metric claims women have the political power, and the other metric claims men have the power. This is looking a little less obvious now that we dig deeper.
I haven’t defined patriarchy yet. Most people don’t, because they don’t want to be tied down to a particular type of evidence. The relevant dictionary definition is: a social system in which power is held by men, through cultural norms and customs that favor men and withhold opportunity from women.
For each metric you come up with to show our culture favors men, I’ll come up with one to show it favors women. My starting statistics will be: life expectancy, education (measured by amount of degrees conferred), incarceration rate, poverty rate, homelessness, victims of violent crimes, workplace fatalities, and suicide rate. Your turn.
I grant you that many people argue patriarchy causes these problems for men (often stated “patriarchy hurts men too”). But that’s playing with words. By definition, a patriarchy “favors men,” and therefore cannot be the cause of society-wide disadvantages for men.
Here’s the truth. Any claim about anything can be supported with evidence if the person who believes the claim gets to pick the metric by which we measure something. This is a form of confirmation bias and sometimes the Texas sharpshooter fallacy. Raw statistics like the ones we’ve been looking at are slippery business, because they tell us nothing about causation. Is the sparsity of women in congress because the opportunity is being withheld from them by some social system that favors men, or is it some other causal factor at play?
When you pick the gender of Congress as a measure, you see ahead of time that it works in your favor, and that’s why you picked it. In other words, when you look for a pattern, you’ll find it. To avoid statistical fallacies like this, we need a metric whose results we are blind to, and we need a solid argument that this metric is actually measuring what we think it is. Only then do we test what the results show. Then we repeat this with many other metrics, because the issue is way too complicated for one metric to prove anything.
I’m not saying we don’t live in a patriarchy. What I’m saying is that you can’t laugh off someone that claims we don’t with a book-long argument to support her case because it is “obviously false” to you. Any argument that we live in a patriarchy is going to have to be subtle and complicated for the reasons listed above. It’s also more likely that the answer is somewhere in the middle. Men are favored in some places; women are favored in some places; and it’s counterproductive to decide if one outweighs the other. We can work towards equality without one gender “winning” the “oppression” war.