The boys’ club In the past 50 years, only five women have been elected University Students’ Council president. It’s an alarming figure that often generates claims of sexism on campus—but is this the truth of the matter? News Editor Jesica Hurst investigates. It’s the early afternoon on February 14, and tension is inevitably running high in the Mustang Lounge. After weeks of preparation, debating and endless amounts of campaigning, all three University Students’ Council presidential candidates find themselves at the end of their journey, anxiously anticipating the election results. However, one candidate in particular, fourth-year social science student Ashley McGuire, found herself wondering if these results would determine a bigger change— the chance for another female to claim the USC’s highest elected office. But that was not the case. “I looked up at the screen and thought, ‘What happened? How did I only get 1,200 votes?,’” McGuire said, reminiscing about her confusion. The current senator-at-large explained she couldn’t help but think something was missing after she put so much of herself into her campaign. “I obviously don’t have an answer for what it was that contributed to those results, and I’d like to think it wasn’t because of my gender, but I do think that gender will always play a role in these elections. I mean, there’s obviously a reason why men are winning more than women.” And she’s right—men certainly have dominated this specific role since the creation of the USC. Over the past 50 elections, only five female candidates have earned the title of president, meaning 90 per cent of all winners have been male. But after taking a closer look at the data, the reason behind this inequality may not be what first comes to mind. Students at Western don’t necessarily prefer to vote for male candidates, they just aren’t given as much opportunity to vote for females. In the past 50 elections*, only 30 women have run for USC president, making up a measly 12 per cent of the total number of past candidates. However, 16 per cent of the women who have ran in the past have won, which isn’t too different from the men’s results, considering only 20 per cent of men who have run in the past have won. Perhaps the question that needs to be asked is not, ‘Why are men elected more than women?’ but instead, ‘Why are so few women running for this position?’
Cristine de Clercy, a political science professor at Western, explained the answer could, in some ways, be related to tradition. “I think there’s still an understanding in wider society and wider culture that politics, just as an area of interest or an activity, is normally more open and attractive to males than females,” she said. “I think that this has diminished over time, but there still is a sort of residual bias from an earlier time that politics is not normally an area of activity or interest for women.” According to de Clercy, politics is part of what analysts call the public sphere— that’s life in the workplace, or life outside the home. For much of human history, men have been expected to be active in the public sphere, to be active in politics, but women, in contrast, were expected to concentrate mainly on the private sphere—the home. “It was really only in the late 19th century and early 20th century when women began to demand the right to vote and to participate in politics, and began to enter and participate in the public sphere,” she said. “The route of inequality is simple centuries of tradition whereby women were viewed as being more properly oriented toward the family. These traditions could still be contributing to the lack of females interested in politics of any level.” But de Clercy also explained tradition might not be the only thing contributing to gender inequality in politics. In some cases, she believes women could face different barriers than men do—for example, women routinely report they find it’s tougher to be viewed as being as competent as men. “For whatever reason, there does tend to be some sort of residual suspicion that women in leadership roles are not as competent as their male counterparts.” Even after earning the role of USC president for the 2009–10 academic term, Emily Rowe experienced these barriers first-hand, as she felt as though students and other faculty members doubted her ability solely based on her gender. “I noticed it even more than I was expecting,” Rowe said. “It was quite upsetting how many people would pass judgment just because I was a blonde female.” Things didn’t get easier when Rowe finally >> see Barriers pg.3
Naira Ahmed & Caroline Wang Gazette