I've noticed that I refer to female politicians either by their first name, or their full name if I subconsciously think of them as being feminine (Hilary or Hilary Clinton, Maxine or Maxine McKew) and by their surnames only if I don't (Thatcher, Gillard).
A friend said to me yesterday 'There's no doubt that Hilary's the better candidate, its just a really unfortunate thing that she's so personally unlikeable. I feel it too, even though I've seen how hard she worked for us in New York.'
I couldn't count the number of times I've heard that particular 'special case' argument in relation to female politicians.
My friend also said 'America is so ready for a female president and because Obama's black, its not even an issue; no one's even talking about the fact she's a woman.'
I'm hearing that a lot too.
And I don't think its true. I don't think the fact that it's not being talked about means that people are any more comfortable with women in politics. My friend says last time there was a female presidential candidate, all the debate was about whether foreign governments would take her seriously. (I didn't have the heart to tell him that gender is the least of the prejudices the world holds against American leaders.) There is also a slip there; he was talking about America 'being ready' but said the debate (the sign that America wasn't ready) had been around whether the rest of the world would take a female president seriously. That slip demonstrates how good we've got at justifying, rationalizing and hiding prejudices. The unintentional implication of what he said was that foreign perception was being used as a way of disguising American sexism and that subconsciously, at least, he knew it.
What we want from a politician is so utterly at odds with what we want women to be that I think it is entirely possible not to be sexist, to be a person who is in favour of women succeeding in any number of previously male-dominated areas and still find it difficult to like a female leader. Clinton is unlikeable because she's a potential presidential politician. Gradually, we are coming to a view of minor female politicians which is positive. In those roles, women are able to be either more maternal or more ball-breaking, and there isn't such a problem. But for a president, for a leader, we want her to be tough enough to do the job and comforting because women who aren't are bitches. Simultaneously, we want her to be maternal, but also not, because you've got to be tough to fight wars and protect us all from the big bad world. And because we are happy (enough) with women in other public offices, it always feels like we don't like whoever it is personally, rather than because of her gender.
Maxine McKew, the woman who took John Howard's seat (and therefore, although not vying for a leadership role nevertheless occupies that space because she defeated the Prime Minister) was almost entirely able to escape these contradictions. Her public profile was developed over years as a journalist and people still relate to her that way although she is now a politician. Having said that, it was shocking to hear her speak on election day (and no one was barracking for her more than me) because she wasn't tough like politicians are, she wasn't aggressive, and it was only the remembrance of her intellect and dedication as a journalist that stopped me from wondering if she was up to this. And all because she speaks softly.
In the presidential debates, when all the candidates walked onto the stage together, Clinton's height (a foot shorter than everyone else) and her hips made her a completely recognizable silhouette. Obama didn't stand out for being black; Clinton was the odd man out.
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