Like any sociopolitical movement, feminism is built on shared conviction but also ferocious disagreement. Far from being a single doctrine, it is a complex and sometimes competing set of views gathered uncomfortably under one umbrella. It’s little wonder that advances in feminism have occurred in fits and starts – the usual analogy is that of waves – with big battles occurring not just with patriarchal institutions and attitudes, but within its own ranks.
The current stand-off between gender-critical feminists and those advocating for the rights of trans people feels particularly vicious and unyielding. But if Sexed, a new history of British feminism by the Guardian columnist and leader writer Susanna Rustin, shows us anything, it is that such confrontations are nothing new, even if, in the past, they occurred in living rooms and community halls rather than on the internet.
The book is framed, both in the blurb and in Rustin’s introduction, as an urgent reappraisal of feminism in relation to the fractious developments of the past decade: “Progressive gender politics, in its current form, is not for me,” she writes, going on to observe how the belief that women’s rights are directly linked to their biology, or their “sexed bodies”, as opposed to their self-identifying gender identity, has become a “crucial faultline” in feminist discourse.
But when you dig into it, Sexed is less didactic than that framing suggests. It is, in fact, a detailed and mostly even-handed account of British feminism, documenting the various successes and failures of campaigners, plus their internecine squabbles, starting with Mary Wollstonecraft (who annoyed many of her contemporaries by suggesting women were overly aware of their sexual difference) and the divided Pankhurst women (Emmeline and daughter Christabel were unimpressed by Christabel’s sister Sylvia’s socialist leanings).
Rustin subsequently guides us through the campaigns that led to women’s rights to vote, inherit, study, own property, get divorced, access contraception and childcare, have consensual sex, have an abortion, give birth safely and escape violent partners. Given how progress on these issues has stalled or gone into reverse around the world, these are not achievements to be taken for granted.
There is a lot here that is familiar: we are not starved of accounts of the suffragettes, say, or the problematic legacy of the birth control pioneer and eugenics advocate Marie Stopes, or the travails of the Victorian campaigner Caroline Norton, who left her abusive husband only to be denied access to her children. But Rustin also highlights lesser-known figures, including Barbara Bodichon, who campaigned for women’s education; Eleanor Rathbone, a social reformer who championed the family allowance, and Southall Black Sisters, an antiracist organisation that campaigned against the virginity testing of British Asian women before marriage.
At the tail end of a period in feminist publishing that has concentrated on personality, specifically feminism’s most disruptive, colourful or exalted figures, it feels valuable to have such a comprehensive account of British feminist achievement, with the quietly diligent figures given equal billing to their more famous counterparts. To bring about progress often requires tenacity, patience, a willingness to compromise and to engage with our glacial political and legal systems. There is, it is clear, a lot to learn from our feminist elders.
In the end, only 23 pages are given over to the disputes between gender-critical feminists and trans activists. Rustin takes readers on a whistlestop tour of the conflict’s main flashpoints: prisons, trans athletes, the charity Mermaids, Stonewall, Maya Forstater, Kathleen Stock and more. Given Rustin’s misgivings at those who prioritise gender over biology, it’s perhaps not surprising that the views of trans-inclusive feminists, or those who occupy the middle ground, are not contained here. That she documents the grim intimidation and threats against gender-critical activists while not mentioning the hate crimes against transgender people, which last year reached a record high in England and Wales, seems a more unfortunate omission.
To view the women’s movement from a 21st-century vantage point is to see that the relationship between sex and politics has always been a fraught one, with those arguing for equal humanity locking horns with women highlighting innate differences between the sexes. Rustin shows how biology underpins much feminist progress, but so does mutual understanding and inclusivity.
While the author’s alarm at the extreme end of gender ideology is clear, she remains “certain there is an accommodation to be found between feminists (and gay men and lesbian women) who want their sex-based rights to be upheld, and transgender people who want their gender identities to be respected”. When that happens, I hope she will write an additional chapter.
• Sexed: A History of British Feminism by Susanna Rustin is published by Polity (£20). To support the Guardian and Observer, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.
