My best friend is a woman and I am one myself so I’m obviously not a misogynist. Having said that, it’s more than my feminist sensibilities can bear, to see women vying for space in the political arena.
First we had three women making cameo appearances in the leadership debate here in the UK. Then this week, Hilary Clinton threw her hair net in the ring for the US presidency.
Has she not learned anything from her previous attempt at the presidency? All those men who interrupted her speeches to chant “Iron my shirt”, were not the sexist pigs that the political correctness brigade would have us believe, but rather the voice of a frightened, marginalised, increasingly alienated group in American society. The white male.
It’s not that these men hate Hilary per se. It’s what she represents. In the unlikely event that she was to become the first female president of the US, what kind of role model would she be to the young women of America? It would be bye bye babies and hello back room deals. What message would it send to young men, who have been raised on the absolute promise of higher pay and male dominance when it comes to the jobs that matter? Suddenly they’ll have to accept equal pay and share power with women. Societal order, the thing that makes us feel safe (apart from nuclear weapons) would collapse.
The writing has been on the wall for sometime. We only have to look at other women who’ve made similar bids for power to know it always goes tits up. The Times (UK) captured the outstanding victory of Sonia Gandhi 10 years ago with the headline “The Italian housewife with a lot on her hands”. Voted for by 675m people, the focus of the article was that of her gender “handicaps”.
When Segolene Royal made her presidency bid in France the media questioned who would look after her 4 children if she were successful. Women who have children are mothers first, and everyone knows a good mother wouldn’t leave a 16 year old child at home with flu while she swanned off canvassing to be the first female president. She was lambasted for allegedly doing that and rightly so. That’s tantamount to child neglect.
Of course the same rules don’t apply to men. In a meritocracy, we have to accept that men are better at leadership, that’s why they have wives to whom they can delegate child care duties, leaving them to get on with the business of war mongering and creating global economic carnage. After all, if there’s no crisis there’s no fear and without fear the masses are far less malleable.
At least Angela Merkel had the good sense not to enter politics with womb manufactured baggage. She didn’t have children so she can never be accused of neglecting them. Genius. She may also be the most powerful woman in the world and preside over the strongest economy in the euro-zone, but she can’t dress for toffee and she reads from her notes, for gods’ sake. It’s only a matter of time before she’s toast.
Commentator, Janet Street-Porter, recently outed Leanne Woods for reading from her notes during Question Time. Rule number 1 of politics, it’s not what you say but how you say it that matters. Street-Porter was so irked by this that she attacked Wood for criticising HRH David Cameron. Dismissing any criticisms of the Tory austerity regime, S-P shouted “If that’s true, why is everyone so bloody happy, as proven in a recent happiness survey commissioned by the happiness society (or some such)? Eh eh? Cat got your tongue? you bloody Welsh, note reading upstart”. I’m paraphrasing slightly but I feel I captured the essence of the occurence.
Coming back to the UK leaders’ debate, various commentators picked up on crucial, vote losing faux pas, committed by the female panellists. One of them was far too intellectual for her own good (as evidenced by the fact she was wearing flat shoes), the other was too confident (for a woman) to be credible and the other had a wardrobe malfunction. She turned up wearing a casual collarless ensemble. Everyone knows that’s political suicide.
I toyed with the idea of becoming more engaged with local politics. If plans to close our A&E succeed, it would be quicker to drive to Luton (300 miles away) and catch a Ryan Air flight to Australia (that’s where all the best doctors go when they burn out here) than to dial 999. When you factor in the 3 hour wait in this county for an ambulance, then the added journey time to the next nearest A&E (1.5hours) then waiting in the queue of ambulances that backs onto the motorway, you’re looking at about 8 months before you get to see the inside of a cerise A&E cubicle.
When you do get in, the nurses and doctors will have lost the will to live and will have emigrated to Australia, so why not just go straight there in the first place?
I digress. I put the notion of political activism to my 7 year old who was horrified. “We’re supposed to be making Victoria sponge tomorrow” he protested. “What would you rather have, a mother who stays at home making cakes all day or one who makes a stand for social justice?” He didn’t miss a beat, “I’ll take the cake option”. Obviously children are not naturally predisposed to decisions that involve deferring gratification but nonetheless, that was my dalliance with politics over. A woman’s place is in the home.
The harsh truth is that politics is a precarious career choice for women. Hilary Clinton’s presidency bid won’t be decided on her stellar track record or her proven competence. It’ll be decided on where she stands on ironing shirts, what she wears and whether her ambitions undermine her ability to be a good mother and grandmother. Even if she overcomes those hurdles, she’ll know better than most that, however well she thinks she’s doing, it takes just one bad hair day and its curtains.
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