Introduction: Kate Manne, Down Girl

Kate Manne, Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny. Published by Penguin Books, 2018.

Author's Note: I did say this would be slow-paced, but I didn't envision updates being quite this slow! Apologies, friends – hopefully you're still with me, even at snail speed.

Introduction: Eating Her Words, pp. 1-30

Chapter Summary

Content Note: this chapter of Manne's book, and this post, discusses sexual and gendered violence, and specifically strangulation and coercive control.

Manne uses the evocative subtitle "eating her words" for an Introduction that begins with a discourse on strangulation. This 'prevalent form of intimate partner violence' carries symbolic as well as physical consequences: it acts as the type of 'demonstration of authority and domination [...] paradigmatic of misogyny' (2, 3). In the Introduction, Manne uses the specific circumstances of strangulation as a jumping-off point for a broader discussion of silence and silencing [Oprah.gif]. In particular, she notes a number of specific and high-profile cases in which women recanted their accusations of violence, particularly as the men who had allegedly abused them gained greater visibility, notoriety, and power. 'Part of male dominance', Manne writes, 'especially on the part of the most privileged and powerful, seems to be seizing control of the narrative – and with it, controlling her, enforcing her concurrence' (11).

The emphasis on narrative control forms a foundation for Manne's insistence that the word 'misogyny' is an important one to use and apply accurately. In the next chapter, she begins an extensive unpacking of the word itself and its many possible meanings, beginning with a dismantling of what she calls the 'naïve conception' that takes misogyny as referring to 'individual agents [...] who are prone to feel hatred, hostility, or other similar emotions toward any and every woman' (32). We'll come to that in my next post (which I sincerely promise won't take as long to materialize as this one has!). Here, however, Manne offers up her definition of misogyny, which is worth quoting at length:

It's very important, as Manne goes on to reiterate, that what we take away from this definition is an emphasis on 'systems of domination' (my emphasis). Misogyny is not, in Manne's reckoning, a question of an individual man who hates women, as a class or as individuals, sui generis (in other words, simply because they are women). It is also not a question of an individual who enacts violence against women, although of course gendered violence is implicated in the wider systems that Manne points us toward. But, Manne argues, that violence is a symptom of "the patriarchal order" rather than of hatred as such.

Women, as a diverse category of people, are diversely affected by patriarchy. And so, Manne notes, there is 'no supposition of some notional universal experience of misogyny [...]. It is rather meant to be a name for whatever hostile force field forms part of the backdrop to her actions, in ways that differentiate her from a male counterpart (with all else being held equal)' (19). What Manne posits, then, is a definition of misogyny that casts it as a 'relatively unmysterious, and epistemologically accessible phenomenon' (21). This is a point she returns to in Chapter 1: that the 'naïve conception' of misogyny that links it to hatred in fact has the effect of mystifying rather than clarifying the term.

My Reflections

Rather than a feeling – whether acted upon or not – of hatred toward women, Manne encourages her readers to see misogyny as 'primarily a property of the social environments in which women are liable to encounter hostility due to the enforcement and policing of patriarchal norms and expectations' (19). Any number of examples spring to mind, from the disproportionate prosecution and imprisonment of women who resist their abusive partners to the disproportionate violence faced by trans women. Many women will also have been lucky enough to have the inverse experience: being in a social environment in which patriarchal hostility is unlikely. For some of us, that may be friend groups or group chats, but it may also be a women's hour at the gym, a Lyft with a female driver, or a community or hobby group in which the social norms are more inclusive than the outside world's.

Large-scale (and even mid-scale) social and cultural change is a slow business, and patriarchal norms are hard-wired into much of the world that we live in. Even when individuals have the best of intentions, so much of our global infrastructure is designed through a patriarchal lens. Even our ubiquitous digital assistants – Siri, Alexa, ChatGPT – all default to a feminine voice. By that I don't simply mean a stereotypical "woman's" voice in the sense of pitch and timbre. I mean that they are programmed with the traits of patriarchy's ideal version of femininity: 'warm, polite, and even apologetic', as this Change in Content article puts it. When we become accustomed to the robot who never says no, who speaks into existence a simulacrum of femininity, how much harder does it become to speak up and speak out as a woman? How much harder does it become to say 'no?

'This is,' Manne says, 'how social control generally works: via incentives and disincentives, positive and negative reinforcement mechanisms' (19). Michel Foucault makes a similar argument in relation to what he calls 'biopolitics': the insidious ways in which a government convinces you to police yourself, rather than relying on outward shows of force. This self-policing can then lead to more overt violence. When there is no meaningful maternity leave or affordable high-quality childcare available, for example, women in heterosexual partnerships will tend to fall out of the workforce, because they are assumed to be the primary caregivers for children. As a result, they may become financially reliant on men who may or may not take advantage of that power. The violence enacted by these individual economic abusers are certainly misogynist, but they are so because they are enabled by the wider patriarchal system, which put the mother in this example in a vulnerable position to begin with. Without that system supporting, enabling and even, in some cases, rewarding their actions, it would not be as possible for abuse the thrive.

These are the stakes of thinking systemically about patriarchy and misogyny: when we treat them as individual problems, we have a tendency to imagine the solutions as individual interventions. What we need instead is to be looking at the systems level, so that we can engineer systemic solutions.

Discussion and Journal Prompts

Thanks for thinking with me! If you want to continue the discussion, I offer these as starting points either for your own journaling or for a discussion in the comments below:

1. What's the difference, in your mind, between understanding misogyny as individual hatred and understanding it as a part of the patriarchal system?
2. When is silence powerful, and when is it oppressive? What makes the difference?
3. Do you any notice patterns of thought that 'police' your actions in the way that Manne and Foucault describe? What is one small way you might re-write that pattern for yourself?