America as an Icon: The Golden Facade

by Shreya Kollipara

The United States is undoubtedly an icon on the world stage, a sturdy, sparkly symbol of freedom, forever in the headlines. Over the decades, its superpower status has made the country positively popular and so important. As an international student, this golden image can be verified; despite the nation’s contested history and problematic sociopolitical landscape, America is nothing but dreams and burgers abroad. American feminism isn’t a stranger to glorification either — second wave and post-war feminism are considered textbook knowledge and fundamental in the fight against patriarchal systems of power. From large-scale institutional and policy motions in the 20th century (i.e. everything the suffragettes fought for) to today’s “lifestyle feminism,” from Betty Friedan to AOC, so much about American feminism is undeniably iconic. But icons are only images, built in the air and put on a pedestal, glorified so harshly that we are blinded to the incompetencies and secret limitations of a movement otherwise so powerful. Where is it lacking, and for how much longer? This isn’t the first time the intersectionality of American feminism is being called into question; as early as 1866, Black orator, activist, and abolitionist Frances Ellen Watkins Harper challenged white feminism in her speech at the National Women’s Rights Convention: “I tell you that if there is any class of people who need to be lifted out of their airy nothings and selfishness, it is the white women of America.” The work of the Combahee River Collective draws attention to the intersectional consequences of oppression and highlights how inclusive feminism would work to dismantle existing heteropatriarchal, economically exploitative, and racist systems of power. Black feminism shapes an ideology that goes beyond the individual success of a woman and encourages collective structural change. Kimberlé Crenshaw, leading scholar of critical race theory and civil rights advocate, notes that discrimination persists even decades later because of the “stubborn endurance of the structures of white dominance.” She’s not wrong. Nor is it the first time the sincerity of American feminism’s inclusion of LGBTQ+ individuals has been called into question. With a host and variety of homophobic and transphobic legislation (e.g. bathroom bills, the “Don’t Say Gay” bill, the SAFE act, the “Save Women’s Sport” Act, and more) being introduced and passed into law, the queer community is consistently under attack. How effectively has American feminism really incorporated queer theory into its teachings and message? Women’s colleges, for instance, are fundamentally mainstream feminist institutions, symbols of resistance to men’s rules for higher education. But in many ways, these institutions replicate and propagate much of the same elitism and racism in their quest to empower the white women they serve. And until recently, many of these schools had no official policy regarding transgender applicants or students, potentially discouraging trans students from applying or forcing existing students to hide their gender/sexual identities. Reputed colleges like Barnard

University, Smith College and Bryn Mawr College do not admit non-binary students; Bryn Mawr and Wellesley only do if the student is assigned female at birth. Research by Abbie Goldberg, a professor of psychology and the director of the women’s and gender studies program at Clark University, highlights how transgender students are treated in higher-level academic institutions: her study showed that a “confluence of academic, mental health and financial factors” often motivate students to drop out of college. To add to this, an Associated Press article from 2017 reports that alumnae at some of these institutions are opposed to admitting transgender students, arguing that it “undermines the institutional mission to empower women.” This version of feminist liberation is grossly limited and exclusionary – broadening and clarifying administrative policies to move past the policing of gender and actively including queer students is absolutely necessary, especially today. And if women’s colleges are (to whatever extent) the torchbearers of American feminism, shouldn’t educating and supporting trans students and non-binary people be a part of their mission?

What American feminists need to be thinking about more is women in the workforce — but not just women atop the glass ceiling, not just upper-class, educated, welloff women in positions of considerable power. Although women constitute nearly half of the national workforce, they make up 60 percent of the minimum-wage workforce and 73 percent of tipped workers (according to the Sargent Shriver National Center on

Poverty Law). Even if women are overrepresented in sectors of the economy that are rapidly growing, these are sectors that pay poverty wages. The public sector job cuts disproportionately affect women (especially women of color) and are largely to blame for their unemployment — and the new economy being “rebuilt” post-pandemic is being rebuilt on underpaid service work! Mainstream feminism in the United States has moved well past the fight to recognise housework as work in lieu of

“career women”; in “Global Woman”, Barbara Ehrenreich notes how second wave icon Betty Friedan “raged against a society that consigned its educated women to what she saw as essentially janitorial chores, beneath ‘the abilities of women of average or nor-

mal intelligence’ and, according to unidentified studies she cited, ‘peculiarly suited to the capacities of feeble-minded girls.’” This is an ideology that needs to be left behind, and its repercussions today warrant both recognition and reform. When discussions of equal pay

for equal work come about, it elicits the comparison of pay rates between individual men and women, meaning we are only considering environments wherein salaries can be negotiated and are done so individually. The Paycheck Fairness Act has been proposed as a potential solution to the gender wage gap as it would allow workers to discuss their salaries and thus discover discrepancies, but the initiative to unionize and collectively demand better pay and conditions has not received the same backing.

In “Trickle-Down Feminism” Sarah Jaffe writes that until contingents predominantly comprised of women (nurses, teachers, domestic workers, etc.) organise their workplaces, their labor will remain unregulated, undervalued, and uncertain. Today’s economic climate and circumstances call for unionization like never before – this is an opportunity to rethink the way we value service work and focus on creating real, sustainable protections for these workers. Another labor issue well within American feminism’s realm of influence is the decriminalisation of sex work. Although it remains a controversial issue within feminist spaces, if the movement truly supports reproductive choice, why should an exchange of money have any bearing on this? Studies reported by the WHO show that decriminalising sex work can lead to a 46 percent decline in new HIV infections in sex workers and help eliminate sexual violence against them. Additionally, this criminalisation of sex work is dangerous because it hinders workers’ ability to negotiate sexual consent. This version of Sex Worker Exclusionary Radical Feminism (SWERF) propagates a reductive and skewed understanding of sex work that falsely suggests that a) all sex workers are women and all clients are men, and b) despite the experience and perspective of sex workers, their work is by definition a form of violence against women. SWERF also argues that decriminalisation would exacerbate human trafficking despite a strong body of research proving the opposite. If feminism in this country really revolves around the core values of agency and empowerment, then why are sex workers being silenced?

design by Bela Chauhan

Interestingly, many of these shortcomings can be traced back to how we understand one thing: power. The idea that equality can be achieved only through participation in the existing patriarchal structures of society limits our interpretation of power; to echo the words of Audre Lorde, “The master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house.” We still see power as the ability to exert control and dominance over others instead of something that can be creative, constructive and collective. In “Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center,” bell hooks discusses the feminist dilemma of obtaining power without being corrupted by it, and how this expectation in and of itself is flawed: “Women, though assigned different roles to play in society based on sex, are not taught a different value system,” i.e. even if women acquire power, that does not mean they inherently conceptualise it differently. The issue here is that one gains power (especially in terms of wealth) often through supporting the oppression and exploitation of ‘underclass’ people, even if unintentionally, and that the power acquired is rarely used to empower these groups.

American feminists need to work to redefine power positively — in fact, the idea that women must obtain power to effectively resist the patriarchy is rooted in the false assumption that women have no power. In "Powers of the Weak," Elizabeth Janeway writes that one of the most critical forms of power held by the weak is “the refusal to accept the definition of oneself that is put forward by the powerful.” Based on this idea, hooks emphasises the economic power of women as consumers (via boycotts and other anti-capitalist exercises) and the importance of serving “the interests of collective feminist struggle.” Such redefinition is key to reforming society so that social, political, and economic structures can work in favor of (rather than as an obstacle to) the equality of all people.

Feminist movements around the world are certainly not far behind, although our little golden bubble may convince us so. The legalisation of sex work in the Netherlands in 2000 has improved labor conditions, reduced criminal enterprise and exploitation, and given sex workers greater autonomy. India has established a statutory body, the National Council for Transgender Persons (NCTP), that advises the government on all policy matters affecting transgender and intersex people. Abortion was decriminalised in South Korea by court order in 2021 (after being considered illegal since 1953). Cuba’s adoption of The Family Code more than forty years ago codifies egalitarian societal norms addressing marriage, property management, childcare obligations and more, in the quest to legally motivate change. America might have been an icon going into the 21st century, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it will remain one.

To think about American feminism today is confusing — it is changing and growing, probably for the better, but a significant chunk of the movement is shrouded in a glittery, golden facade that is difficult to see through. American feminism is nearly absorbed by its status as an icon; the faces representing the movement are, for the most part, popular politicians, executive directors, authors and actors — and the way the movement has morphed into a profitable subculture highlights its superficial nature. White feminism’s magazine-cover, yougo-girl, capitalism-adjacent advocacy will simply not work anymore. If structural issues, especially those concerning labor (lack of access to paid leave, wage gaps, unaffordable childcare, underpaid care work, criminalised sex work, lack of unions) are not addressed with urgency, they are bound to be left behind. In the words of Laurie Penny, “While we all worry about the glass ceiling, there are millions of women standing in the basement — and the basement is flooding.” Our approach needs to shift: from breaking the glass ceiling to asking why there is a ceiling to begin with. If America can do better, then it absolutely should.