© 2019 BY THE AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL ASSOCIATION ISSN 2155-9708 Feminism and Philosophy NEWSLETTER | The American Philosophical Association VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 SPRING 2019 SPRING 2019 VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION Lauren Freeman ABOUT THE NEWSLETTER ON FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY SUBMISSION GUIDELINES AND INFORMATION ARTICLES Kathryn J. Norlock White Women Misogynists Agnes Callard What Do Men Find Threatening about Women's Empowerment? Briana Toole Masculine Foes, Feminist Woes: A Response to Down Girl Ishani Maitra Misogyny and Humanism Audrey Yap Misogyny and Dehumanization Elle Benjamin Autism, Himpathy, and Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny Kate Manne Response to Critics BOOK REVIEWS Linda Martín Alcoff: Rape and Resistance Reviewed by Charlotte Witt Laura Hengehold and Nancy Bauer, eds.: Blackwell's A Companion to Simone de Beauvoir Reviewed by Céline Leboeuf Mary Rawlinson: Just Life: Bioethics and the Future of Sexual Difference Reviewed by Ellie Anderson F. Vera-Gray: Men's Intrusion, Women's Embodiment. A Critical Analysis of Street Harassment Reviewed by Meryl Altman Sandrine Bergès: The Social and Political Philosophy of Mary Wollstonecraft Reviewed by Valerie Williams NEWS FROM THE CSW ANNOUNCEMENTS CONTRIBUTOR BIOS Feminism and Philosophy LAUREN FREEMAN, EDITOR VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 | SPRING 2019 APA NEWSLETTER ON EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION Lauren Freeman UNIVERSITY OF LOUISVILLE It is with great excitement and enthusiasm that I present to you the spring 2019 issue of The American Philosophical Association Newsletter on Feminism and Philosophy, my first issue as editor. As you may or may not know, I have taken over the position of editor from Serena Parekh, who has held the office for the last three years. Before providing a proper introduction to this issue, I'd like to announce several changes to the newsletter, as well as to give you a peek at some of the upcoming issues I have planned. At a recent meeting of the APA Committee on the Status of Women, there was discussion about the purpose of the newsletter. Specifically, we noted the shift it has undergone in the last number of years from being more of a traditional newsletter with updates about and news in the profession, to its newer role, that of a publication forum. In this shift, something that has been lost is the newsletter as a go-to point for learning about what's going on in the profession, specifically, relevant conferences, workshops, fellowships, scholarships, grants, etc. In response to this concern, I have decided to include in this and in all forthcoming issues an Announcements section. If you'd like to publicize an event or opportunity that is relevant to feminist philosophy and/ or female-identified philosophers, please send it along and it will be included in the next issue (fall 2019). A second addition that I'm making to the newsletter is to include a new category of submission, narrative essays. There is a lot of flexibility in terms of what a narrative essay can be. I see them as being something in between a blog post and an academic essay and in the area of around 1,500– 3,000 words. Narrative essays need not be argumentative, but they can be; they can also be a personal reflection on something that happened to you in the profession or the classroom, or outside of these contexts, that is in some way relevant to feminist philosophy and/or femaleidentified philosophers. Developing this new category of submission, I have taken inspiration from "Musings" that Hypatia publishes. I realize that what narrative essays are or can be is incredibly broad, so in case you have an idea for a narrative essay that you'd like to write but aren't sure whether it quite fits, I invite you to contact me in advance. Narrative essays, like all submissions, will be anonymously reviewed. I look forward to broadening the scope of the newsletter with this addition and to providing a platform for more marginalized voices to be heard, voices that, for various structural and other reasons, have heretofore not had venues to speak about issues that are both relevant and important to feminist or female-identified philosophers. I would also like to mention the topics for the next two issues of the newsletter; I hope that you will consider submitting your work. By now, I hope that you have seen the CFP for the fall 2019 issue on the topic of #MeToo and philosophy. The spring 2020 issue of the newsletter will cover the topic of Parenthood and Philosophy. This issue, perhaps more than any of the others I've overseen, will be an issue in which narrative essays may occupy a more central place than argumentative essays. I invite stories of success, failure, and ideas for improvement surrounding issues related to parenthood in the profession, which can include, but are not limited to pregnancy, labor and, birth (hospital births, home births, birthing center births), post-partum depression, miscarriage, abortion, prenatal genetic screening, successful and unsuccessful attempts to conceive, negotiating parental leave (or inability to do so successfully), returning to work, work-life balance (if there is such a thing!), single-parenting, parenting while trans, parenting while gender non-binary, raising gender neutral children, parenting children with disabilities, parenting while disabled or impaired, loss of a child, navigating childcare, blended families, adoption, foster parenting, or divorce. Discussions surrounding most of these issues are wanting in the philosophical literatures, if they exist at all, and I see this issue more as a starting point to engage, publicly, in more discussions on these topics. Finally, and before moving on to the substance of this issue, I'd like to express my deep and sincere gratitude to Serena Parekh, who has been an important mentor to me, both personally and professionally, for close to a decade and who walked me through the transition to taking over this position with precision, skill, and great care. Also, thanks to the APA Committee on the Status of Women for nominating me to this position and for their faith in me, and, specifically, deep thanks and gratitude to Charlotte Witt, chair of the committee, for acting as a sounding board in the early days of being editor, and for her confidence in and encouragement of me. And without further ado, on to introducing the issue to you! I am delighted to dedicate the spring 2019 issue of The American Philosophical Association Newsletter on Feminism and Philosophy to a critical engagement with Kate Manne's provocative, groundbreaking book, Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny (Oxford University Press, 2018). Though much actual and virtual ink has already been spilled over Manne's APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY masterpiece (and rightly so!), in print, at conferences, in reading groups, in popular media, and on social media, the insightful engagements with her work that you will read in what follows are novel and continue the long-from-over conversation about Down Girl, the implications of Manne's position, and new directions in which her thinking can be and will be taken. I am so grateful to all of the wonderful author-critics–Kathryn Norlock, Agnes Callard, Briana Toole, Ishani Maitra, Audrey Yap, and Elle Benjamin–for their thoughtful words and to Kate for her engaging, stimulating response to the critics. I would also like to thank all of the book reviewers who contributed to this issue: Ellie Anderson, Meryl Altman, Céline Leboeuf, Valerie Williams, and Charlotte Witt. Everyone involved in this issue was a true pleasure to work with. Because I don't want to spoil all of the surprises to come, I'll only briefly outline some of the questions and issues that are raised by the critics, with the purpose of piquing your interest and nudging you to keep on reading. Kathryn Norlock's response to Down Girl unpacks the phenomenon of white female misogynists, namely, those women who are protected by their white privilege, and who regularly and often without consequence or question, thwart the interests of other girls and women. Why, Norlock asks, don't we count them as misogynists? (Or if we do, why are we so reluctant to?) In Manne's response, she further develops her position stated in Down Girl by, among other things, elaborating upon her concept of "himpathy," which, combined with misogyny, is a concept that refers to our tendency to police women's moral errors more harshly than men's. In Manne's words, himpathy also refers to "the disproportionate or inappropriate sympathy sometimes extended to powerful men over girls and women." Manne's explanation as to why we are hesitant to call white women misogynists is but a brief entre into her forthcoming book, Entitled (Crown US/Penguin UK), where we can look forward to hearing more of her thoughts on himpathy among many other related topics. Agnes Callard's commentary on Down Girl questions both the intelligibility and the usefulness of the economic "give"-"take" model of patriarchal social relations that is central to Manne's account of misogyny. Such a model, as Manne clarifies in her comments, embodies a false, pernicious, and thoroughly moralized ideal, in which women are deemed obligated to give feminine-coded goods (primarily in the form of seamless social, emotional, reproductive, and sexual, services) to designated (typically, dominant) men, in ways that also reflect racist, heteronormative, cis-sexist, and other politically objectionable, assumptions. Men, on the other hand, are tacitly deemed entitled to take analogous goods from women, in the form of social, emotional, sexual, and reproductive, labor. Crucially, and in response to Callard's remarks, Manne explains that the "give"-"take" model should not be understood as descriptive of gender relations, but rather, as prescriptive-and objectionably so. Callard considers whether this model is "unhelpfully hyperbolic." Manne responds: "no! It is helpfully hyperbolic." In developing her response to Callard, Manne proposes a rather radical reading of a book that many of us at one time or another in our lives (likely, before we were woke) probably found dear, Shel Silverstein's 1962 children's classic, The Giving Tree. In her reading of this story, Manne develops the position that this pernicious ideal of male-female relationships that Callard critiques may harm such social relations in rather subtle ways by presenting a false set of obligations and entitlements. In her comments on Down Girl, Briana Toole turns the table on Manne's focus on misogyny's pernicious effects on girls and women and asks, what are the implications of misogyny on boys and men? Her position is that a complete analysis of the "logic" of misogyny must explain how the patriarchy engenders in men an interest in participating in its enforcement. Toole's comments aim to draw a line from patriarchy to toxic masculinity to misogyny, thereby providing a clearer picture of precisely why men are invested in this system. Her claim is that if feminists are really interested in promoting justice and improving the social world in general, then we ought to consider this other side of misogyny as well. By reflecting on the motivations for writing Down Girl, expanding upon how himpathy works, and embracing the (intentionally) incomplete and partial nature of the account presented in the book-one that focuses specifically on girls and women-Manne defends and justifies her interest in a narrower account of misogyny. Given the kinds of examples and cases that Manne uses for rethinking and reconceptualizing misogyny in Down Girl, Ishani Maitra considers whether Manne is really successful at shifting our conception of misogyny away from a traditional individualistic, naïve account toward one rooted in and defined by social environments (as is Manne's goal). In response, Manne acknowledges and expands upon how tricky it is to do justice to the supposedly hostile quality of misogyny, including the negative reactive attitudes that accompany it, while at the same time not falling back into the very kind of account that she is criticizing, namely, an excessively psychologistic and individualistic one. Maitra also pushes further in another direction and argues that Manne's substantive account of patriarchy and the conception of misogyny that results from it is more closely related to humanism than she allows. In a move of philosophical humility-a type of dialectical response that is perhaps more needed in our profession-Manne confesses that she shares Maitra's criticism that it would have been beneficial to include in Down Girl more discussions of shaming, guilting, and punitive social practices that are experienced by so many girls and women who are perceived as, or representative of, gendered norm-violators. Very humbly, Manne goes on to acknowledge that "some marks were missed" in the "Humanizing Hatred" chapter of Down Girl; in response, she considers how that chapter should have unfolded. Following nicely from the discussion that Matira (and Callard) begin, Audrey Yap's comments are motivated by a desire to consider the best ways to model the oppressive social structures and institutions that shape our lives, as well as the ways in which such structures and institutions PAGE 2 SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY are bolstered by the very people who participate in them- including well-intentioned feminist like us. Yap develops a specific concern related to Manne's characterization of women's roles in oppressive hierarchies as givers of distinctly human moral goods. Manne's position is that misogyny is not a matter of dehumanization. Though Yap does not contest this conclusion, she argues that the cases that Manne uses in order to make her case are, in fact, instances where dehumanization is present-not as a result of misogyny, but rather, due to other oppressive forces that frequently accompany it. Yap concludes that in order to better understand misogyny in many real social contexts, we need an even greater intersectional analysis of how it interacts with other forms of oppression. Finally, and switching gears, Elle Benjamin's comments develop the intersection of misogyny with ableism in general and with anti-autism bias in particular, which is, as Manne acknowledges, is "manifestly lacking in my book." (Though she qualifies that this was by design, on account of her lacking an epistemically appropriate standpoint from which to speak on the issue.) Provocatively, Benjamin considers whether there are any cases where focusing on the experiences of the misogynist can be beneficial for everyone-including the misogynistic perpetrators and the misogynistically oppressed. More specifically, she asks if there might be an unhimpathetic way to talk about Elliot Rodger (the Isla Vista shooter), one that illuminates the effect of his condition on his misogyny, without at the same time emitting any sympathy at all in virtue of his maleness. In so doing, Benjamin considers the ways in which Elliot Rodger may have been neuroatypical and if he was, the consequences this might have had for the ways in which his crimes were discussed. She goes on to consider the himpathetic commentators that appear in Manne's discussions and how they mischaracterized the nature of Rodger's condition by calling it mental illness. It is Benjamin's position that readers were denied a deeper understanding of what Rodger was experiencing, why he was experiencing it, and how we can help people with similar experiences avoid Rodger's fate. Though Manne finds some important insights in Benjamin's approach, she problematizes the general account on both theoretical and empirical grounds. As you can see with this brief introduction, the discussions in this issue are rich and robust. In addition to these contributions to the newsletter, you can also find reviews of the following books: Linda Alcoff's Rape and Resistance (reviewed by Charlotte Witt), Laura Hengehold and Nancy Bauer's (eds.) A Companion to Simone de Beauvoir (reviewed by Céline Leboeuf), Mary Rawlinson's Just Life: Bioethics and the Future of Sexual Difference (reviewed by Ellie Anderson), F. Vera-Gray's Men's Intrusion, Women's Embodiment: A Critical Analysis of Street Harassment (reviewed by Meryl Altman), and Sandrine Bergès and Alan Coffee's (eds.) The Social and Political Philosophy of Mary Wollstonecraft (reviewed by Valerie Williams). I hope that you enjoy reading everything that follows as much as I did. ABOUT THE NEWSLETTER ON FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY The Newsletter on Feminism and Philosophy is sponsored by the APA Committee on the Status of Women (CSW). The newsletter is designed to provide an introduction to recent philosophical work that addresses issues of gender. None of the varied philosophical views presented by authors of newsletter articles necessarily reflect the views of any or all of the members of the Committee on the Status of Women, including the editor(s) of the newsletter, nor does the committee advocate any particular type of feminist philosophy. We advocate only that serious philosophical attention be given to issues of gender and that claims of gender bias in philosophy receive full and fair consideration. SUBMISSION GUIDELINES AND INFORMATION 1. Purpose: The purpose of the newsletter is to publish information about the status of women in philosophy and to make the resources of feminist philosophy more widely available. The newsletter contains discussions of recent developments in feminist philosophy and related work in other disciplines, literature overviews and book reviews, suggestions for eliminating gender bias in the traditional philosophy curriculum, and reflections on feminist pedagogy. It also informs the profession about the work of the APA Committee on the Status of Women. Articles submitted to the newsletter should be around ten double-spaced pages and must follow the APA guidelines for gender-neutral language. Please submit essays electronically to the editor or send four copies of essays via regular mail. All manuscripts should be prepared for anonymous review. References should follow The Chicago Manual of Style. 2. Book Reviews and Reviewers: If you have published a book that is appropriate for review in the newsletter, please have your publisher send us a copy of your book. We are always seeking new book reviewers. To volunteer to review books (or some particular book), please send the editor, Lauren Freeman (lauren.freeman@louisville.edu), a CV and letter of interest, including mention of your areas of research and teaching. 3. Where to Send Things: Please send all articles, comments, suggestions, books, and other communications to the editor: Dr. Lauren Freeman, University of Louisville, lauren. freeman@louisville.edu. 4. Submission Deadlines: Submissions for spring issues are due by the preceding November 1; submissions for fall issues are due by the preceding February 1. SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 PAGE 3 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY ARTICLES White Women Misogynists Kathryn J. Norlock TRENT UNIVERSITY I found myself thinking a great deal about the 52 percent of white women who voted in the 2016 election in the USA for Donald Trump, as I read Kate Manne's Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny. I continue to find myself thinking about my membership in the category of white women, and appreciating Kate Manne's ameliorative approach to conceptual analysis, influenced by the work of Sally Haslanger, especially evident in Haslanger's well-known essay, "Gender and Race: (What) Are They? (What) Do We Want Them to Be?" Manne's book moves me to consider writing a paper emulating Haslanger's title, perhaps, "White Women: (What) Are They? [Are We a We? Are They Me?] (What) Do We Want Them or We to Be?" I am moved to ask because the first and most successfully cruel and harmful misogynists that I encountered in my life were cis-het white girls and white women.1 I find it striking that we are culturally comfortable with the concept of "mean girls" who are brutal to other girls, but we are not (yet) culturally comfortable with calling girls or women misogynists. I want to press on why we would be so ready to see cruelly gendered behavior by some girls and women as mean, and as targeting of other girls and women, but not as misogynist. I believe the answer is partly to be found in Kate Manne's book and in her perception of us as remaining attracted to "naïve conceptions" of misogyny as hatred of all women on the part of a self-aware and, implicitly, masculine and heterosexual agent.2 We are accustomed to assuming that by misogynists, we mean men. In her book, Kate Manne tends to focus on men as well, although she, wisely, both steers attention away from discussing agents as misogynists and rejects the gender binary as a metaphysical entity, two points I appreciate for their wisdom and their strategic value. But I wish to steer attention back toward agents as misogynists and as members of a gender-group for the purposes of this paper. I want to try to think more clearly about why more than half of white women voted for Trump, about why calls to white women who didn't vote for Trump to organize our white sisters tends to fall on some of the deadest ground in my heart, and why some white women remain hugely sincere fans of Trump who were, reportedly, deeply offended by Hilary Clinton's suggestion that they did so due to "pressure" from husbands, sons, and other men in their lives.3 The women in news reports and narratives online who reject Clinton's reasoning assert that they are voting their own minds and very happy to support Trump. I believe these women. I grew up with some of them in the same neighborhood. I also believe that the behaviors and voting choices of some such women are misogynist, not because they hate all women in their hearts; they would never agree that they hate themselves, and as Manne points out, they don't have to, in order to qualify as misogynist. Instead, I suggest that some white women are misogynists because their behaviors fit so many of the characteristics that Kate Manne outlines, including overt and expressed hostility to nonheterosexual women and to trans* women, policing of insufficiently feminine women of all embodiments, and extreme and consistent obstacle-creation to women's liberation from oppressive circumstances. (At this point, if anyone is quietly wishing away my criticizing of women and thinking, Can't We All Just Get Along?, let me just provide the heads-up here that we never have, at least in part because some heteronormative white women are misogynists. Below, I provide more reasons why unification isn't going to happen.) First, I offer some quick introduction to anyone reading this essay who hasn't read the book. Kate Manne's ameliorative account of misogyny is helpful and heartening. What we take misogyny to be is obvious if misogyny just is hatred of women, but Manne devotes early chapters to up-ending that "naïve conception."4 She rejects, as simplistic and overly psychologistic, the definition of misogyny as an emotion, (or) lodged in an individual's heart, (or) toward the entirety of women, a cluster of criticisms with which I agree.5 Manne is persuasive that if misogyny is essentially hatred, then we can never be certain anyone harbors it unless they self-report. And as she demonstrates with vivid examples, even when some do self-report, social commentators routinely go to work on doubting whether expressions of deeply hostile feelings really apply to all women, as if hatred of a set must distribute equally to all its members. The shooter loved his mother! He wanted to date the sorority girls that he threatened! He killed a man, too, so his hatred wasn't exclusive! In a writing style both informative to scholars and, with each chapter, increasingly clear to any reader, Manne systematically argues against the application of the naïve conception to instances of evidently misogynist violence. "Misogynists can love their mothers," Manne says, and the sentence is welcome to my eyes.6 Of course they can. If a definition of misogyny rules out a misogynist's loving being loved, then we need a better definition. I am grateful to Manne for adding one to our understandings. Manne offers an account of misogyny based on its social function rather than its psychological nature, "as primarily a property of social environments in which women are liable to encounter hostility due to the enforcement and policing of patriarchal norms and expectations."7 For those of us trying to articulate the problems with hostile environments and deadly violence that disproportionately affects women, Manne says, we need a term more distinctive than sexism, which identifies a rationale for a structure of unfairness. Sexism purports to give reasons for structural inequity; misogyny is the better term for the sorts of coercive regulations of patriarchy that work to hold the structure in place. If sexism offers planks, misogyny provides the nails. Misogyny is, then, what misogyny does, Manne argues. Her more victim-centered account of what misogyny means is reminiscent of the good feminist practices of philosophical forerunners like Claudia Card, who described misogyny as "the term feminists apply to the most deeply hostile PAGE 4 SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY environments of and attitudes toward women and girls and to the cruelest wrongs to them/us, regardless of whether perpetrators harbor feelings of hatred. Misogyny tends to be highly culpable and grossly oppressive."8 Now let's talk about misogynists. In careful terms, Kate Manne suggests "that the term 'misogynist' is best treated as a threshold concept, and also a comparative one, functioning as a kind of 'warning label,' which should be sparingly applied to people whose attitudes and actions are particularly and consistently misogynistic across myriad social contexts . . . (a) more extreme, and (b) more consistent than most other people in the relevant comparison class."9 She grants that this is a loose conception with some "weasel words" allowing some room for debate; then she moves on, as she rightly observes that she does not "have to take a stand on how to fill out the definition."10 I find that Claudia Card's account of misogyny contributes to the project of filling out the definition; Card describes misogyny as involving "evils perpetrated with aggressive . . . use of force and violence against women,"11 on that distinctively Cardian account of evils as the "foreseeable, intolerable harms" that make a decent life difficult.12 Intolerable harms, Card emphasizes, are not merely inequities or even all injustices. Evils, intolerable harms inflicted by culpable humans, are the more serious iterations of wrong: What makes harms intolerable is not altogether subjective. A reasonable conception of intolerable harm is that it is a significant deprivation of basics ordinarily required for a life (or a death) to be decent for the person whose life (or death) it is. Such basics include . . . the ability to make choices and act on some of them; freedom from severe and unremitting pain and from debilitating humiliation; affective bonds with others; a sense of one's human worth. Although not exhaustive, that list is enough to show that intolerable harm does not totally depend on individual preferences. Intolerable harm interferes with one's ability to function decently as a human being.13 Card's account of intolerable harms supplements Manne's recommendation that we use the attribution of misogynist sparingly, providing an idea as to where the threshold might be for attaching a label to a person and not just their several acts. For Card, the seriousness of the harms is what graduates some culpable wrongs to the category of evils; acts or institutions that it is reasonably foreseeable can make some lives intolerable or indecent are evils (in the plural-noun sense, not the adjectival-trait sense). Evildoers are agents that embrace and carry out such acts. Compare Card's intolerable harms to Kate Manne's examples of misogyny (and Audrey Yap's, in her contribution to this issue). Manne includes examples of mass shootings and murders by boys and men for the express purpose of harming or avenging themselves upon girls and women. Such examples clearly contribute to Manne's account of misogynistic environments as, "constitutively speaking, [comprising] social forces that (a) will tend to be faced by . . . girls and women . . . and (b) serve to police and enforce a patriarchal order, instantiated in relation to other intersecting systems of domination and disadvantage that apply to the relevant class of girls and women."14 Shootings of this sort in the USA are numbingly common news. Manne adds that "as a substantive matter of fact, these misogynistic social forces will . . . often target girls and women (in the relevant class) for actual, perceived, or representative challenges to or violations of applicable patriarchal norms and expectations . . . where those norms and expectations may involve, for example, (a) distinctively gendered contents, which reflect and help to regulate or restore patriarchal order; or (b) particularly harsh enforcement mechanisms for girls and women. . . ; or (c) particularly intense and/or invasive forms of policing (e.g., surveillance, scrutiny, and suspicion)."15 With increasing urgency, commentators draw attention to the frequency with which boys and men are the shooters and the van-drivers, and women are the victims and the targets. This is misogyny, some commentators rightly exclaim. And it is, in these contexts, misogyny that is noticeable in part because the shooters and killers are male. Their maleness is a salient feature of the situation that moves some writers to notice the possibility of misogyny at work. As heralded above, however, I wish to advance the possibility that we may more easily notice the misogyny at work in cases of men killing women, because of the gender difference, and because, at times, heterosexual boys and men announced their sexual or romantic frustrations as motivations. We may, consequently, overlook misogyny in contexts in which the differences are not so obvious, and the motivations are not expressed in heteronormatively laden sexual terms. Can girls or women be misogynists in ways that reflect the characteristics of misogynist acts, norms, forces, and agents as Manne sketches them? Consider the information provided at bullyingstatistics.org that girls are more likely to engage in verbal bullying, cyberbullying, and "indirect bullying," which "takes place when a person or group of people spread rumors and stories about a person behind their back. These can be false and malicious attacks. . . . Social alienation is also another type of bullying that females can be responsible for committing. A group of girls may decide to deliberately shun another girl from the group because they are mad at her or find it funny to hurt another person simply because they are different."16 These social forces lead some girls to suicide. In 2010, a girl in her first year of high school, Phoebe Prince, killed herself after a verbal harassment campaign on the part of girls at her school who called her a slut and shamed her for briefly dating a boy. I am saddened, but not surprised, that prosecutors described Prince's suffering as "intolerable," a description apt to Card's characterization of evils.17 There are more examples than I care to provide the reader of older girls and younger women who engage in bullying prior to the target's death or attempted suicide, bullies who tend to fit a pattern of being not just female, but white, and not just white, but heterosexual, and not just heterosexual, but, as one news source said of Prince's tormenters, "pretty, and popular."18 Girls targeted for feminine bullying who go so far SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 PAGE 5 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY as to attempt to take their own lives are often those bullied on gendered and sexed lines: targets of slut-shaming, or perceived as having or actually having lesbian or bisexual identities, or simply unfeminine presentations in body or appearance. Note that in the USA, "lesbian, gay, bisexual and questioning (LGBQ) teens are more than three times as likely to attempt suicide as their heterosexual peers, . . . [possibly] because they experienced verbal harassment, physical bullying or felt unsafe at school."19 I am not saying anything that we have not heard before. It is so ordinary, in truth, that "mean girls" can be dismissed as just typical teens, just high school. If boys will be boys (shrug), well, girls will be girls. But Manne is persuasive that what boys and teens do in elementary school and high school is not irrelevant to analyses of misogyny. If misogyny is as misogyny does, then let's look at what girls' bullying does to girls. Constitutively speaking, let us agree that what some cis- het white girls do-in targeting other girls for slut-shaming, body-shaming, femininityand heteronormativity-violating, while the bullying girls are succeeding on these same dimensions-fits Manne's description of attitudes, acts, and "social forces that (a) will tend to be faced by . . . girls and women . . . and (b) serve to police and enforce a patriarchal order." More specifically, I would add to Manne's analysis, such fatal bullying serves to police and enforce a heteronormative, white supremacist, and feminine order. Therefore, such bullying and shaming, when deadly, is "instantiated in relation to other intersecting systems of domination and disadvantage that apply to the relevant class of girls and women." Let's look as well at Manne's "substantive matter of fact," that girls can target girls "for actual, perceived, or representative challenges to or violations of applicable patriarchal norms and expectations" that "involve, for example, (a) distinctively gendered contents, which reflect and help to regulate or restore patriarchal order," and in this case, I would add, reflect and regulate norms of femininity and heteronormativity; I find the patriarchal order inseparable from attention to orientation, which is by definition gendered. When verbal, cyber, and indirect bullying contribute to a girl's death or attempted death, one might then agree that such behavior meets Manne's criteria of being "(b) particularly harsh enforcement mechanisms for girls and women. . . ; or (c) particularly intense and/or invasive forms of policing (e.g., surveillance, scrutiny, and suspicion)."20 In short, just as Manne rightly urges us to consider that "boys will be boys" may allow misogyny to grow and prosper, I am arguing that dismissing the behavior of "mean girls" as just typical school, or just kids being kids, without attending to the pronounced demographic pattern that these tend to be white and heterosexual and femininitysuccessful girls, is also to allow misogyny to grow and prosper. Behavior that targets girls along gendered lines for surveillance and enforcement of feminine expectations is as misogyny does. I don't think it is a coincidence that some of the cis-het white girls who policed and enforced norms of femininity and heterosexuality in youth are now so likely to be members of the white women block that votes for Trump. I promised the reader that I would think with you about women who vote for Trump, and instead you got to read about teen suicides. But I hope it is now clear why I silently agreed with women who rejected what they took to be Clinton's characterization of them as women who voted for Trump because their men told them to. In the news coverage that I've read, the white and heterosexual and married women who proudly proclaimed that they did as they wanted and not as they were told demonstrated a high interest in self-motivated maintenance of what they believe to be the proper social order. That order includes the maintenance or improvement of their lives as white and heterosexual and American women, secured by voting for a man whose talk of grabbing his objects of desire by the pussy is dismissed, by these women, as locker-room talk, a man who threatened to sue all the women who could make a sexual assault claim against him, a man who aligned himself with bathroom-bill supporters and prolife lobbyists, who campaigned for Ron Moore, who has reinstituted the gag order on international aid workers advising victims of war rape about abortion, who has packed the judiciary with a record number of conservative and anti-choice appointees, who said he could not imagine an exemption for the health or life of the rare woman who seeks a third-trimester abortion, who vowed to roll back health-insurance reforms that include employer-provided contraception, who has increased the practice of separating families in the interests of deporting "illegals." If this isn't a list of obstacles to tolerable and decent lives for women, I think I am not up for seeing what is. And I submit that avidly and sincerely supporting a candidate who places obstacles in the way of good lives for women, on the grounds that he's not hurting you-he's hurting those other women, the trans women, the brown women, the raped women, the illegals-is misogynist. Am I calling all Trump voters misogynists? No. Like Kate Manne, I don't think it is always true or always strategically wise to paint all actors with the same agent-trait-accusing brush. But I hope I have made a case for considering that we don't take seriously enough the possibility that some white women are misogynists, notably some feminine and heterosexual white women who demonstrate repeated and lifelong interest in policing and enforcing social structures that benefit them at the cost of intolerable harms to other women and girls. Encountering the urging of women of color that those of us with privileges of whiteness should try to organize white Trump-supporting women yanks a grim laugh from me, as I reflect that some of these Trump voters were my own schoolgirl torturers, and calls to those of us who were their targets to Walk Up and Not Out on them get less than my full belief in that possibility. And yet, when I expressed this pessimism at the presentation of this paper at the Canadian Philosophical Association, a woman of color did not give up on me; Andrea Dionne Warmack contacted me to say that she attended and appreciated my presentation, but she still noticed that I'm better placed than less privileged women to do the work of reaching out, talking to women who support Trump, moving them to consider alternative perspectives. When misogyny PAGE 6 SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY encourages us to forget what we can do and instead agree that we've lost, agree that efforts at changing minds are hopeless, then the work of feminism may have to include both the clarification of the nature of our obstacles and the encouragement and support of fellow feminists when we get weary. Manne's book provides both: conceptual clarification and encouragement. It would be difficult to carry on without such company. ACKNOWLEDGMENT This paper is based upon a presentation I provided as part of a panel of respondents to Kate Manne's Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny, in an author-meets-critics session at the Canadian Philosophical Association in Montreal on June 5, 2018. Thanks to Victor Kumar for the invitation to be a part of that panel, and thanks to co-critics Audrey Yap and Carrie Jenkins as well as Kate Manne for their thoughtful presentations, which enlarged my thinking. NOTES 1. The Queer Dictionary supplies the following definition of cishet, which I hyphenate for clarity: "Cishet, used as both an adjective and a noun, describes a person who is both cisgender and heterosexual... First used in online communities in the 2000s, cishet is a portmanteau of cis-as in cisgender, from the Latin cis-, meaning "this side of"-and het-as in heterosexual, meaning attracted to the opposite sex." Available at http://queerdictionary. blogspot.com/2014/09/definition-of-cishet.html. 2. Manne, Down Girl, 18-19. 3. See Scott, "Clinton said she meant no disrespect by comments about white women who voted for Trump." Cf. Abernathy, "No, women didn't vote for Donald Trump because their husbands told them to." 4. Manne, Down Girl, 18, 32. 5. Manne, Down Girl, 39-41, 44-49. 6. Manne, Down Girl, 52. 7. Manne, Down Girl, 32. 8. Card, "Challenges of Local and Global Misogyny," 473, emphasis mine. 9. Manne, Down Girl, 66. 10. Ibid. 11. Card, "Challenges of Local and Global Misogyny," 474. 12. Card, The Atrocity Paradigm, 3. 13. Card, "Challenges of Local and Global Misogyny," 474. 14. Manne, Down Girl, 63. 15. Manne, Down Girl, 63-64. 16. "Female Bullies," Bullying Statistics. 17. Miller, "Phoebe Prince's Final Days: Bullied Girl Suffered 'Intolerable' Abuse Before Suicide, Say Court Docs." 18. Cullen, "The untouchable Mean Girls." 19. Rapaport, "One in four gay, lesbian, bisexual teens attempt suicide." 20. Manne, Down Girl, 63-64. REFERENCES Abernathy, Gary. 2018. "No, Women Didn't Vote for Donald Trump Because Their Husbands Told Them To." Commentary, Chicago Tribune, published April 27, 2018. Last accessed May 22, 2018. Available at http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/opinion/commentary/ct-trump- married-women-voters-20180427-story.html. Card, Claudia. The Atrocity Paradigm: A Theory of Evil. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002. ---. "Challenges of Local and Global Misogyny." In A Companion to Rawls, edited by Jon Mandie and David A. Reidy, 472–86. Malden, MA: Wiley Blackwell, 2013. Cullen, Kevin. "The Untouchable Mean Girls." Boston.com, January 24, 2010. Last accessed May 24, 2018. Available at http://archive. boston.com/news/local/massachusetts/articles/2010/01/24/the_ untouchable_mean_girls/. "Female Bullies." Bullying Statistics: Anti-Bullying Help, Facts, and More. Last accessed May 24, 2018. Available at http://www.bullyingstatistics. org/content/female-bullying.html. Haslanger, Sally. "Gender and Race: (What) Are They? (What) Do We Want Them to Be?" Noûs 34, no. 1 (2000): 31–55. Manne, Kate. Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny. New York: Oxford University Press, 2018. Miller, Carlin. "Phoebe Prince's Final Days: Bullied Girl Suffered 'Intolerable' Abuse Before Suicide, Say Court Docs." CBS News, April 9, 2010. Last accessed May 24, 2018. Available at https://www.cbsnews. com/news/phoebe-princes-final-days-bullied-girl-suffered-intolerable- abuse-before-suicide-say-court-docs/. Rapaport, Lisa. "One in Four Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual Teens Attempt Suicide." Health News section, Reuters.com, first published December 19, 2017. Last accessed May 22, 2018. Available at https://www.reuters. com/article/us-health-teens-lgbq-suicide/one-in-four-gay-lesbian- bisexual-teens-attempt-suicide-idUSKBN1ED2LS. Scott, Eugene. "Clinton Said She Meant No Disrespect By Comments about White Women Who Voted for Trump." The Fix, Washington Post, March 19, 2018. Last accessed May 22, 2018. Available at https://www. washingtonpost.com/news/the-fix/wp/2018/03/19/clinton-said-she- meant-no-disrespect-by-comments-about-white-women-who-voted- for-trump/?utm_term=.dfe72e835a81. What Do Men Find Threatening about Women's Empowerment? Agnes Callard UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO Hilary Clinton faced a distinctive kind of obstacle in her quest for the presidency: she was behaving like the "wrong kind" of woman. To pick just one example, the psychologist Lisa Feldman Barrett has argued that people were inclined to perceive Hilary's failures to smile differently from her competitors': "A woman making sternlooking facial movements must be angry or upset. A man who looks the same, on the other hand, is focusing on the important matters at hand."1 Kate Manne studies this kind of obstacle and dissects it into two components-sexism and misogyny-in her important new book, Down Girl. Manne's guiding model for describing sexism is as an unfair commercial interaction, an "uneven, gendered economy of giving and taking moral-cum-social goods and services" (107). Her thought is that such an arrangement constitutes a "patriarchal division of labor" (79) in which women have the role of "giving" attention, care, nurture, and affection, whereas men are entitled to "take" these things from them. Manne contrasts a world ordered in this patriarchal way with one in which everyone has "equal moral purchase" (70). She regularly refers to the sexist structure as one in which "she gives" and "he takes." Manne understands misogyny as the enforcement mechanism for this interaction: it is a way of extracting what women are perceived to owe men. Manne does not spell out why women might be unwilling to give what they "owe," but presumably the inequity at the heart of the arrangement is what leads women to want out of it. SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 PAGE 7 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY Thus she describes misogyny as the "law enforcement branch of the patriarchal order." Misogyny, in Manne's new construal of the term, serves to describe social practices of treating women differentially based on their willingness or unwillingness to cleave to the "giver" role: the former being rewarded, the latter sanctioned. I want to begin by raising some doubts about both the intelligibility and the usefulness of this particular economic framing of male-female interaction. There is a large literature in economics analyzing interpersonal relationships in economic terms.2 Unlike Manne, these models tend to presuppose that goods are given and exchanged on both sides; indeed, that is arguably criterial on an economic analysis of an exchange. Even in exploitative exchanges the disadvantaged party is conceived of as securing goods at too high a cost, rather than as bearing only costs, with no goods to show for the expenditure. Manne does not explicitly deny that goods flow in the reverse direction-from men to women-but her recurrent framing of the arrangement as one in which "he gives" and "she takes" suggests this interpretation. There is only one place in which she gestures at goods provided by men to women-she lists money, chivalry, respect-but she describes these as "goods or services that he once might have provided" (112, italics mine). The traditional conception of the role of men assigns to them the job of providing for women and protecting them against external dangers, but Manne seems to see this "male part" of the division of labor as outdated. Finally, consider her classification of what she calls "male- coded goods"-"social positions of leadership, authority, influence, money and other forms of power, as well as social status, prestige, rank, and the markers thereof" (113). She sees these as yet more goods for men to take "from women," in the sense that women are misogynistically sanctioned for competing for them. Traditionally, those sanctions would themselves be underwritten by the fact that these goods are connected to men's fulfillment of their part of the bargain-providing and protecting-but on Manne's conception, they become free-floating goods by which men attain a kind of self-actualization to which women have only restricted access. Once again, men get something for nothing. My concern, then, is that Manne's conceptual apparatus for elucidating sexism and misogyny is unhelpfully hyperbolic. For consider relationships in which there are, in fact, norms dictating only what one party owes. We find non-reciprocal normative regulations-in which one side is morally obligated to "give" and the other side may "take" without facing any sort of sanction-structuring the relationships between human beings and their pets, or their infant children. It is an interesting feature of explanatory accounts of misogyny that they tend to be emasculating-accusing men who mistreat women specifically of weakness and impotence-but it is possible to take such rhetoric too far. Assimilating men to pets and infants would, I think, constitute an excess of classificatory vengeance. Should we, perhaps, consider a weakened version of the "she gives/he takes" structure, in which women give more than they take? A somewhat less extreme picture of the iniquity of the interaction provides a better starting point for an analysis of sexism as a form of exploitation, and misogyny as the violence required for keeping an exploitative exchange in place. (And Manne does, in one place, specifically describe the interaction as one of exploitation (209).) But consider how that story would go. Manne's view that men "used to" give women goods of protection, respect, and chivalry would have to be modified to the view that they used to give more of those goods than they now do. Perhaps she would refer to the loosening of gender norms to which the entry of women into the workforce corresponds, and the fact the movement has been in one direction rather than the other-women readily took to wearing pants, whereas very few men want to wear dresses. There is some indication that she is inclined to frame the historical account this way, since she does say that the goods women provide have become "scarce resources." But consider what this story entails: the world used to be less sexist than it is. Back when men did their jobs, and women did theirs, was there a more equal exchange and a less exploitative relationship? This seems unlikely. Before women joined the labor force, it seems they were subject to far more of what we might traditionally call domination. This points, I think, to the limits of even a more temperate version of the economic model as the primary mode of expressing what is unjust about sexism. Carol Pateman, whom Manne references in her discussion of patriarchy, contrasts an economic critique of it as "exploitation . . . in the technical Marxist sense of the extraction of surplus value" with an approach by way of contract theory. The latter "directs attention to the creation of relations of domination and subordination." The two critiques are not mutually exclusive, since each accepts the terminology of the other as descriptive of the phenomenon-the economic critique conceives of the exploitation in question as an instance of domination, and the political critique conceives of the domination in question as exploitative. Nonetheless, it is relevant that the directions of explanation differ, and Pateman sees her project as that of exposing contractual injustice as the underlying cause of inequity: "exploitation is possible precisely because, as I shall show, contracts about property in the person place right of command in the hands of one-party to the contract."3 Manne's heavy use of the language of economic imbalance suggests that she favors the other direction of explanation. But perhaps her descriptions of "giving" and "taking" are meant to be rhetorical rather than explanatory. If that were the case, it would be necessary to articulate what lay beneath these ways of talking. The answer could well be something like the relations of command and obedience described by Pateman. Alternatively, Manne might think that relations of command and obedience follow from the more basic fact of exploitation. I do not think Manne comes down clearly on this question of priority, so I want to spend a minute explaining why it is such an important one. PAGE 8 SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY Consider the example Manne uses to illustrate male entitlement. She asks us to imagine sitting down at a restaurant and not being served-all the while one can see the server "lounging around lazily or just doing her own thing" (50). Or perhaps she is serving everyone but you. In this circumstance, you might eventually explode with anger and frustration. Manne's thought is that this consideration of this schematic example could help us model the rage some men feel when they do not receive what they expect from women. The question is, what is making the restaurant goer so angry? There are two interpretations of the schema: it could be that he is angry at not getting the food and attention he was expecting, or he could be angry about being disobeyed. Unpacking the analogy, do men want certain goods that they have come to expect that they can receive from women, where the characteristic means by which they receive these goods is through command, or do they want to be able to command women, where the characteristic form that such command takes is the demand for a particular set of goods? In both cases, the anger will encompass both the goods and the subordination, but I think it is important to ask which of the two is fundamental. It is one thing to think that the customer is "banging his spoon on the table" because the absence of food symbolizes the insubordination of the server, and another to think that he bangs it because he's hungry. There are, then, two distinct ways of analyzing the mechanism of sexism and misogyny: (1) You can approach it economically, as an injustice with respect to the equitable distribution of goods and labor. (2) You can approach it politically, as an injustice concerning the manner in which the agency of one person is coordinated with or subordinated to that of another. In the remainder of this essay, I want to make a case for the explanatory fruitfulness of the latter as opposed to the former approach. I. MASCULINE-CODED GOODS Consider what Manne calls "masculine-coded goods" such as "social positions of leadership, authority, influence, money and other forms of power, as well as social status, prestige, rank, and the markers thereof" (113). The economic exploitation account asserts that men are simply unwilling to give up a set of goods they have been accustomed to-or, more accurately, unwilling to lower their chances of getting those goods by allowing an increase in the size of the group competing for them. But if I orient myself by way of Manne's examples, the men who seem most upset at women winning these goods are precisely those men who would be unsuccessful in competing for them in any case. Women aren't "taking anything" away from them that another man wouldn't have stepped in to take. (If Hilary Clinton loses the presidency, that doesn't mean you will win it.) If one's desire is, in the first instance, for the object itself, one doesn't care who one loses it to; if, by contrast, men aim not so much to attain the goods but to prevent women from having them, that suggests the political model. The political model of sexism analyzes the resistance women face competing for wealth, honor, and authority as an issue of domination. But how, exactly? Let me sketch one account of how that analysis might go, admitting that what I present here should be taken as a hypothesis or suggestion. If a good is competitive-which is to say, zero-sum-then much engagement with it is characterized by the experience of failure. In the workplace, everyone is dominated by someone, since you can always find the person who has more power, authority, and wealth than you do. If the home was traditionally a place where a man could expect to be dominant-he commands, his wife and children obey-it would have constituted a kind of antidote to the psychological trauma wreaked by a day of immersion in a competitive culture in which one inevitably came out some kind of loser. The entrance of women into the workplace threatens to turn the home from a haven-the one place where a man was assured of a "win"-into yet another competitive space. In support of this interpretation, consider the research of Christin L. Munsch, showing that men who earn less money than their wives are more likely to have extramarital affairs.4 Munsch hypothesizes that such affairs constitute an attempt to compensate for economic dependency on their wives. To put the point in the terms above, we can hypothesize that such men are looking for an alternative "haven." Consider, also, Munsch's overview of the literature in this field: Men still regard providing as their responsibility even if they welcome their partner's contributions (Townsend 2002), couples with similar wages tend to interpret women's earnings as supplemental (Potuchek 1997), and husbands of high-earning women report increasing their work hours to maintain primary-earner status (Deutsch and Saxon 1998). Conversely, breadwinning wives downplay their financial contributions, defer to their husbands in decision making (Meisenbach 2010; Tichenor 2005), and do a disproportionate amount of housework (Bittman et al. 2003; Brines 1994; Evertsson and Nermo 2004; Greenstein 2000; Tichenor 2005)5 Given that most men are not in direct workplace competition with their wives for money, honor, or authority, the political explanation seems more credible than the economic one here. More specifically, it seems plausible that seeing women as competitors represents a loss of one's defense against the noxious features of the competitive environment-a loss that threatens the psychological possibility of engaging in the forms of competition on which not only manliness but also survival depends. SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 PAGE 9 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY II. FEMININE-CODED GOODS Let us, now, turn to what Manne calls "feminine-coded goods." I believe that Manne is right to call the condemnation of women who seek to avoid motherhood "misogyny." She observes that a deep undercurrent of antipathy seems to be based on the thought that a woman is "failing to nurture, refusing to give life or to care for the vulnerable" (100). Why is the fact that a woman won't nurture-especially if you aren't seeking for her to nurture you in particular-such a threatening prospect? Manne is surely right to notice that nurture, affection, and care are genuinely good, but it is remarkable that those men who are most angered by women's failing to provide them-in the quote above, Manne is referring to an incident involving Rush Limbaugh-do not seem to be the ones who most highly value those goods. I want to make a suggestion about the political motivation that might underlie what sounds like an economic demand for women's "services." Margaret Atwood's novel The Handmaid's Tale describes a totalitarian takeover in which the (relatively few) fertile women in a society become pregnancy-slaves to the wealthy and powerful. I want to propose that what Atwood describes is a version of the panic that underwrites the motherhood-enforcement branch of misogyny, but writ large. The panic in question is that of having one's extinction held hostage to the whims and choices of women. If women can choose whether or not they want children-in the form of birth control and abortion-then men's ability to reproduce depends on the will of women. And there is, in turn, reason to think that the ability to reproduce-perhaps not necessarily at the individual level, but at least at the level of one's social group or cultural cohort-is deeply connected to a sense of one's own life as meaningful and one's death as bearable. So Samuel Scheffler argued in his book, Death and the Afterlife,6 contending that a belief in the existence of future generations underwrites the ways in which human beings, as a matter of contingent fact, engage in the various valuing-practices that are central to the meaning of our lives. He shows that every arena of valuing, from close, personal relationships, to intellectual and aesthetic engagement, to the pursuit of humanitarian goals, is more affected than you might have predicted by the prospect of being cut off from the human beings who might inherit those values. Consider the following thought experiment: Suppose it were simply a biological fact that a man dies if he does not have sex with a woman before the age of twenty, and that such sex were consequently seen as a right, enforceable by law. One day, however, the society wakes up to the immorality of this arrangement and lifts the requirement that women supply life-saving sex. Men would react with panic, desperation, and perhaps also-and this is the crucial point-a certain level of resentment at the power women hold over them. One's life is now literally in the hands of the woman who will consent to have sex with one. Of course, we are not in such a life-or-death scenario, nor do we face a dire infertility crisis such as that in The Handmaid's Tale. But the connection between extreme sexism and misogyny, on the one hand, and the threat of such a crisis, on the other, is a telling one. Women's power to control the future represents a form of domination even those men disinclined to place much value on the work of nurturing and caregiving experience as deeply, perhaps even existentially, threatening. In pushing back against this threat, men may be resisting what they experience as a profound form of domination. I have tried to articulate a way in which women's increased power with respect to income and reproductive choices could be experienced, by men, as an existential threat. I hope thereby to have illustrated the explanatory power of the political model of sexism. With respect to male-coded goods, if competition for these goods is constitutive of male- ness, but predicated on the now uncertain cooperation of women, then women threaten men with non-being-which is to say, not being able to be what they are. And with respect to the female-coded goods, if they become truly the province of women to give or withhold, then women have control over the future on which (women's and) men's valuations depend. The desire of men to dominate women is not, on this picture, so different from the desire of Achilles to dominate Hector, or, more generally, the desire of the Greeks to dominate the Trojans-it traces not to greed but to fear, the alternative being not only defeat but that deep sort of annihilation in which even memory is "blotted out" (Iliad XII l.85, XIII, l.270, XIV, l.85). NOTES 1. "Hillary Clinton's 'Angry' Face." New York Times, September 23, 2016. Available at https://www.nytimes.com/2016/09/25/ opinion/sunday/hillary-clintons-angry-face.html. 2. The locus classicus for the familial relationship is Gary S. Becker, A Treatise on the Family (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1981). 3. Carol Pateman, The Sexual Contract (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1988). All quotations from page 8. 4. Christin L. Munsch, "Her Support, His Support: Money, Masculinity, and Marital Infidelity," American Sociological Review 80, no. 3 (2015): 469–95. 5. Ibid., 470. 6. Samuel Scheffler, Death and the Afterlife (Oxford University Press, 2013). Masculine Foes, Feminist Woes: A Response to Down Girl Briana Toole BARUCH COLLEGE-CUNY In her book, Down Girl, Manne proposes to uncover the "logic" of misogyny, bringing clarity to a notion that she describes as both "loaded" and simultaneously "politically marginal." Manne is aware that full insight into the "logic" of misogyny will require not just a "what" but a "why." Though Manne finds herself largely devoted to the former task, the latter is in the not-too-distant periphery. PAGE 10 SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY Manne proposes to understand misogyny, as a general framework, in terms of what it does to women. Misogyny, she writes, is a system that polices and enforces the patriarchal social order (33). That's the "what." As for the "why," Manne suggests that misogyny is what women experience because they fail to live up to the moral standards set out for women by that social order. I find Manne's analysis insightful, interesting, and well argued. And yet, I find her account incomplete. While I remain fully convinced by her analysis of what misogyny is, I am less persuaded by her analysis of why misogyny is. For a full analysis of the "logic" of misogyny, one needs to understand how the patriarchy manifests in men an interest in participating in its enforcement. Or so I hope to motivate here. I aim to draw a line from the patriarchy to toxic masculinity to misogyny so that we have a clearer picture as to why men are invested in this system. I thus hope to offer here an analysis that is underdeveloped in Manne's book, but is equally worthy of attention if we want fully to understand the complex machinations underlying misogyny. ANALYZING MISOGYNY The ultimate aim of Manne's book is to provide an ameliorative conception of misogyny that is distinct, in a number of respects, from the existing "naïve conception" of misogyny. First, unlike the "naïve conception" of misogyny, which is defined so loosely as to be virtually nonexistent and meaningless (19), Manne's ameliorative conception unpacks misogyny as a political phenomenon that is "metaphysically dependent on there being norms and expectations of a patriarchal nature" (67). Second, in contrast to the "naïve conception" of misogyny as hatred directed towards women qua women, the ameliorative conception takes misogyny to involve the enforcement of patriarchal social norms and the policing and punishment of the women who violate those norms. Misogyny, ultimately, is the hostility displayed towards women who, as Manne writes, "resist or flout gendered norms and expectations," who "disrupt or pose a threat to gendered hierarchies" (61). The aim, or "logic," of misogyny is to restore the patriarchal social order that has been threatened by this disruption. So, what norms is misogyny directed at enforcing, and how do women flout these norms? Manne writes that under a patriarchal social order, "a woman is often expected to play the role of a man's attentive, loving subordinate" (57). She is thus cast in an asymmetrical moral support role, where she is obligated to provide certain emotional goods to which he is entitled. However, women flout these norms when, as Manne writes, they "take what's his"-for instance, when she asks for or takes "masculine-coded" goods (e.g., power, respect, recognition, etc.), or when she withholds "feminine-coded" goods (e.g., admiration, sex, security, etc.) that she is obligated to provide. Thus, under a patriarchal social order, women are relational and functional-they (ought to) stand in certain relations to specific men, and they ought to provide emotional care to those men. It is for me, here, that a question arises: Why are men invested in upholding the patriarchal order? Put simply, what's in it for them? Manne's analysis offers one possible answer. Men engage in misogynistic behavior (and thereby enforce a patriarchal social order) because women who violate the norms of a patriarchal social order lead men to experience a perceived loss in social standing. In a sense, then, misogyny functions essentially as a "corrective" to this perceived loss. That is, it functions so as to "put women back in their place." But I want to offer another possible answer-one that both builds upon and, I hope, complements and completes the answer Manne offers within the pages of Down Girl. I will argue here that men are motivated to enforce the patriarchal social order because the norms that govern male behavior are so repressive that they cannot get "feminine-coded goods" except from women. This in turn motivates them to engage in misogynistic behavior1 so as to ensure they can access these goods. While Manne explores in great detail the norms that govern women, and how men engage in misogyny in order to enforce these norms, she talks very little about the norms that govern men, and how these norms might similarly lead men to engage in misogyny. If the function of misogyny is, ultimately, to uphold patriarchal social order, then we need to examine the various ways in which it achieves this function. Oppressing men, so that they in turn oppress women, is one route by which this happens. Manne does gesture at this possibility, writing that one locus of concern that she will not investigate is the "punishment and policing of men who flout the norms of masculinity" (72). It is precisely this "punishment and policing" I believe needs to be explored more fully in order to have a full picture of how and why misogyny works. THE MARKETPLACE OF FEMININE-CODED GOODS In my discussion of Manne, I will largely engage with Chapter 4, in which Manne describes the give-and-take economy that she takes to be at the heart of misogyny's operation, a theme to which she returns throughout the book. In this chapter, Manne offers an analysis of feminine-coded goods (love, support, affection) and feminine-coded work (emotional labor, caregiving, and so on), acknowledging that these goods and services are both valuable and internalized as "woman's work." Where Manne suggests that men engage in misogyny because they are not being given something to which they feel entitled (i.e., these goods and labor), I want to complicate this explanation somewhat by suggesting that men engage in misogyny because it is (for many men) the only way they can imagine to access these valuable goods. To motivate this argument, I will take, as a metaphor, the concept of the marketplace. I argue that providing feminine-coded goods, or engaging in feminine-coded work, is in tension with the norms of masculinity such that there are strong prohibitions against men engaging in or performing this kind of work. Consequently, I suggest this creates an "emotional marketplace," so to speak, in which women are viewed as SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 PAGE 11 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY the only suppliers of these goods. Thus, when women fail (by men's lights) to provide these goods, this results in a "shortage in the marketplace." To some extent, this explanation has already been investigated by Tom Digby (2014). Digby, for instance, writes that use of misogyny functions so as to encourage men to behave in conformity with masculine norms. What's missing in Manne's analysis (and Digby's, for that matter), I argue, is a bridge between this idea and the "logic" of misogyny. That is, work can be done to connect the idea that men engage in misogynist behavior both to enact masculine norms, and because in accepting and participating in these masculine norms, they cut off possibilities for other suppliers of these valuable goods. In Digby's analysis, the cultural work of misogyny is not just, as Manne argues, to confine women to those roles associated with femininity, but also to enforce the expectations of masculinity. These expectations are such that men are punished when they show compassion for others, especially as this is taken to be a feminine trait. As Digby notes, if a man shows compassion, empathy, or emotional vulnerability, he risks being thrown to the other side of the gender binary. He will be called "a pussy, a bitch, a wuss."2 Still further, there is abundant research to the point that men entering fields incongruent with masculinity face great prejudice. Research on male primary school teachers, for instance, notes that men entering this field, traditionally associated with the feminine, are seen as "weak," "weird," or "gay."3,4 Thus, according to the norms of masculinity, offering goods associated with emotional caregiving is incompatible with being a "real man." It should be unsurprising, then, that men often turn to women for this sort of support; they are unable to provide it themselves, or indeed, to seek it from other men.5 Of course, as Digby notes, the prohibition against being emotionally vulnerable is that it is associated with the feminine. Inherent in misogyny is the presupposition that to be female is to be despised. And so, Manne would emphasize, I'm sure, that ultimately men are unwilling to be emotionally vulnerable because they are unwilling to lower their status and become the thing they have been taught to despise. But this only serves to reinforce the point I wish to establish here. I concede that, to some extent, men engage in misogynistic behavior out of the desire to avoid being seen as feminine. But it is precisely for this reason that men are not socialized, or are unwilling to play (and in some cases, are incapable of playing), emotional support roles. This produces, as a consequence, the need to outsource that labor to others more capable of the task, i.e., women. If misogyny is to be defined, as Manne proposes, as a mechanism by which a patriarchal social order is enforced, we must consider not just how it enforces the behavior of women, but also how it enforces the behavior of men. In framing misogyny as a mechanism which realizes itself through multiple modes, we can see that misogyny also enforces a relationship of a certain kind between men and women. One in which, by their nature, women provide certain goods that men feel entitled to, in no small part because they are unable to acquire those goods via other means. EXTENDING THE ANALYSIS Mark Greene, in an article for Medium, notes that "American men can go for days or weeks at a time without touching another human being."6 Greene's article reminded me of a Facebook post I came across once, not long after the publication of Down Girl. This post described a man who attended a session organized by his wife's church group on the topic of what wives don't know (but should) about their husbands. At the close of the discussion this man raised his hand. He talked briefly about the fact that, except for the affection shown by his wife, he can go through an entire week (sometimes longer) without an affectionate touch from another person. Women, he noted, have affectionate friendships-they cuddle, they hug, they hold hands. But men are not permitted these pleasantries within their male friendships. And so, men who are not in committed, loving relationships might plausibly go weeks at a time without a soft touch from another person. This cold existence is so far removed from the reality of my own life that it seems almost inconceivable. But it is borne out by the empirical data on the subject. Data collected by Wester et al. (2012) suggests that men are socialized such that they have difficulty expressing concern and affection for other men. Moreover, research by Werking (1997) on cross-gender friendships suggests that men prefer crossgender friends because they are able to be emotionally open with their female friends. Still further, research shows that women are given greater permission than are men to touch and be touched by either gender (Zur and Nordmarken, nd). Misogyny works, then, I suggest, not merely by policing women so as to ensure that they adhere to certain social norms, but by policing men as well. When men effectively live up to the patriarchal norms to which they are held and successfully perform masculinity, they participate in and perpetuate the false belief that men are inherently stoic creatures. This creates, in effect, a pseudo-double bind. Men can either violate the social norms that govern masculinity and suffer the social costs, or they can adhere to those norms and in so doing cut off other means for emotional fulfillment. I have thus far argued that men engage in misogyny, in part, out of a desire to get feminine-coded goods that they cannot get elsewhere or otherwise. If we unpack the logic of misogyny in such a way that men are included in the analysis, then it can be argued that when men feel comfortable providing emotional support for other men, the burden will be taken off of women to provide this sort of labor. This notion, too, is supported by the data. Though research on the topic is limited, existing studies on the relationship between masculine ideology and sexist attitudes shows that men who embrace nontraditional masculine ideologies are more likely to show a positive attitude towards gender equality.7 PAGE 12 SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY Let me return now to the analysis of misogyny that I opened with. According to Manne, misogyny aims to reinforce patriarchal social norms by policing those individuals (i.e., women) who flout those norms. I have argued that in much the same way that misogyny functions so as to police and enforce the social norms that govern women, it also aims to police men and enforce adherence to the norms of masculinity. Men who "flout gendered norms and expectations" regarding masculinity experience "peer disapproval, reduced social standing, negative judgments, and psychological consequences.8 In no small part this is because men who flout these norms "disrupt the gender hierarchy" by engaging in activities and behaviors perceived to be stereotypically feminine. Thus, if the success of misogyny is measured by its capacity to restore a disrupted patriarchy social order, this goal is only accomplished to the extent that disruptions from both genders are policed and the social norms that govern those genders reinforced.9 ERASING MISOGYNY When my little brother was 13, he was brutally beaten by a gang of boys in our small town. It was no doubt motivated in large part by racism-we're biracial and our small town in the Florida panhandle was largely white. But it also had to do, I've always believed, with the fact that my brother at that age was positively cherubic. An extremely talented baseball player and an avid skateboarder, he was also the only male ballet dancer in our entire county. He had to be put back in his place-with fists, if that's what it took. Almost half his life ago, he has not recovered and he will never be the same. He has become emotionally hard, cut off, he tries (but struggles) to be vulnerable. Sadly, my brother is not unique. I mourn for our boys; I mourn for the emotionally stunted men they will become. But that is the work of misogyny, and they are the mark of its success. I worried, in undertaking an analysis that suggests that men, as much as women, are victims of misogyny, that I might be considered a "bad feminist," a victim of "himpathy."10 While I would dispute this charge, I would nevertheless count myself in good ranks. In "Men: Comrades in Struggle," bell hooks writes that while men are not exploited or oppressed by sexism, "there are ways in which they suffer as a result of it. This suffering should not be ignored."11 As she goes on to say, it does not diminish the seriousness of male oppression of women to acknowledge this fact. But in ignoring it, we do overlook an important piece of the puzzle as we consider ways in which to erase misogyny. The feminist movement has made great strides for women (though our work is far from finished); but I fear that men have been overlooked almost entirely in the feminist enterprise. This fact, I worry, has impeded our progress somewhat. In undermining the patriarchy, it is not enough simply to empower women to shrug off the cloak of femininity; men must feel (and be) equally empowered to disrobe from the masculine. As hooks writes, "we cannot teach boys that 'real men' either do not feel or do not express feelings, then expect boys to feel comfortable getting in touch with their feelings."12 As feminists, we must recognize that men are both sustained as perpetrators and boxed in by how dependent their sense of self is on masculinity as a core pillar of identity. An adequate feminist solution cannot, then, be asymmetrical either in its analysis or in its proposed solutions. The feminist movement cannot merely free women from the burden of providing emotional labor, it must also endeavor to empower men to be emotional stewards for each other. Manne ends her book on a less-than-hopeful note: "I give up," she writes (300). I'm slightly more optimistic. The difference in our approaches to the problem of misogyny produces a difference in the outcomes we seek and solutions we consider. Manne, given her one-sided analysis, feels hopeless. As she also writes, misogyny produces "a bitterly sad state of affairs, but it is hard to see what would change it" (281). I hope that new and emerging work on social imaginaries and the disruption of social scripts might provide a helpful prescriptive and offer a blueprint for changing this "sad state of affairs." Sociologist Ruha Benjamin writes that "social change requires novel fictions that reimagine and rework all that is taken for granted about the current structure of society. Such narratives are not meant to convince others of what is, but to expand our own visions of what is possible."13 Social imaginaries thus function so as to disrupt harmful social norms by offering alternative models of the social world. One helpful social imaginary (for men and, by extension, women) is that of the "bromance." The "bromance" allows men to disrupt the social script governing masculinity by imagining a social world in which being a "real man" is not inconsistent with providing emotional care and support for each other.14 As an illustration, the long-popular television show Friends, though it had no shortage of problems, did serve as a model for how intimate male friendships might look. My favorite episode involves Joey and Ross (two of the three main male characters) realizing, to their initial dismay, that they get their best rest when they nap together-and so they do precisely that.15 We have succeeded in imagining, and to some extent in creating, a world in which women are free to pursue their own projects. Now our work must turn to creating social imaginaries where men are similarly free. That's what it would take to change the sad state of affairs brought about by misogyny. Or, at the very least, it's a step in the right direction. NOTES 1. This, of course, will not adequately explain all instances of misogyny. However, I think it will help better understand certain trenchant attitudes by certain groups of men (in particular, attitudes endorsed by men's rights activists and incels). See Allain, "Finding Common Ground: A Feminist Response to Men's Rights Activism," 2015. 2. Digby, Love and War: How Militarism Shapes Sexuality and Romance, 68. 3. Kim and Weseley, "The Effect of Teacher Gender and Gendered Traits on Perceptions of Elementary School Teachers," 115. 4. Digby notes that there are clearly issues here with homophobia, but, namely, the problem is the assumption that if one is gay, one is not masculine, and therefore feminine. And inherent in misogyny is the idea that the worst thing one can be is anything associated with the feminine. SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 PAGE 13 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY 5. I mean, here, that they are unable in the normative sense. 6. Greene, like Digby, largely attributes this to homophobia among men. Again, this is not incompatible with what I have to say, though it is incomplete. Even with the legalization of gay marriage and more positive messaging surrounding same-sex relationships, if the norms of masculinity hold that men are emotionally independent and self-sufficient, we will continue to see men eschewing close male relationships, as by definition, such relationships require intimacy and by extension vulnerability (behaviors and attitudes which are incompatible with "masculinity"). See Digby, Love and War, esp. Ch. 3. 7. Wade and Brittan-Powel, "Men's Attitudes Toward Race and Gender Equity." 8. Pleck, "The Gender Role Strain Paradigm"; Bosson and Michniewicz, "Gender Dichotomization at the Level of Ingroup Identity." 9. Though I do not endorse a gender binary, I assume it for the purpose of this discussion, since, no doubt, patriarchy assumes it. 10. To be clear, I do not think men and women are victims of misogyny in equal degree. 11. hooks, Feminist Theory, 72. 12. hooks, The Will to Change, 36. 13. Benjamin, "Racial Fictions, Biological Facts." 14. For work on disrupting social scripts, see Hesni, "How to Disrupt a Social Script" (ms). 15. "The One with the Nap Partners," Friends, NBC, November 9, 2000. Television. Other episodes show Joey sleeping with a stuffed animal (a penguin), deep embraces between Joey and Chandler (who are roommates and best friends), Chandler luxuriating in long baths, and other behaviors at odds with patriarchal norms of masculinity (of which we're reminded by the counterbalancing of these progressive scripts-through the incredulous or mocking reaction from at least one other character when these "deviations" are revealed). REFERENCES Allain, Jacqueline. "Finding Common Ground: A Feminist Response to Men's Rights Activism." On Our Terms: The Undergraduate Journal of the Athena Center for Leadership Studies at Barnard College 3, no. 1 (2015): 1–34. Benjamin, R. "Racial Fictions, Biological Facts: Expanding the Sociological Imagination Through Speculative Methods." Catalyst: Feminism, Theory, Technoscience 2, no. 2 (2016): 1–28. Bosson, J. K., and K. S. Michniewicz. "Gender Dichotomization at the Level of Ingroup Identity: What It Is, and Why Men Use It More Than Women." Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 105 (2013): 425– 42. Digby, Tom. Love and War: How Militarism Shapes Sexuality and Romance. Columbia University Press, 2014. Greene, Mark. "Touch Isolation: How Homophobia Has Robbed All Men of Touch." Medium, August 7, 2017. Retrieved from https://medium. com/@remakingmanhood/touch-isolation-how-homophobia-has- robbed-all-men-of-touch-239987952f16. Hesni, Samia. (ms). "How to Disrupt a Social Script." hooks, bell. Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center. South End Press, 1984. hooks, bell. The Will to Change: Masculinity and Love. Atria Books, 2004. Kim, Yena, and Allyson Weseley. "The Effect of Teacher Gender and Gendered Traits on Perceptions of Elementary School Teachers." Journal of Research in Education 27, no. 1 (2017). Manne, Kate. Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny. Oxford University Press, 2018. Pleck, J. H. "The Gender Role Strain Paradigm: An Update." In A New Psychology of Men, edited by R. F. Levant and W. S. Pollack, 11–32. New York: Basic Books, 1995. Wade, Jay, and Chris Brittan-Powell. "Men's Attitudes Toward Race and Gender Equity: The Importance of Masculinity Ideology, GenderRelated Traits, and Reference Group Identity Dependence." Psychology of Men & Masculinity 2, no. 1 (2001): 42–50. Werking, Kathy. We're Just Good Friends: Women and Men in Nonromantic Relationships. New York: Guilford Press, 1997. Wester, Stephen, David Vogel, James M. O'Neil, and Lindsay Danforth. "Development and Evaluation of the Gender Role Conflict Scale Short Form (GRCS-SF)." Psychology of Men & Masculinity 13 (2012): 199–210. Zur, Ofer, and Nola Nordmarken. (nd). "To Touch or Not to Touch: Exploring the Myth of Prohibition on Touch in Psychotherapy and Counseling." Zur Institute. Retrieved from http://www.zurinstitute.com/ touchintherapy.html#top. Misogyny and Humanism Ishani Maitra UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN 1. INTRODUCTION In Down Girl, Kate Manne sets out to reclaim the word "misogyny." To do this, she takes on the naïve conception, according to which misogyny is the hatred of women- universally or at least generally speaking-simply because they are women (32).1 Manne argues that this conception has many drawbacks, chief among them its tendency to "deprive women of a suitable name for a potentially potent problem facing them" (44). Her aim, then, is to develop an alternate conception of misogyny that names this problem, and in so doing, provides a more effective tool for understanding this aspect of gender-based oppression. Where the naïve conception begins with individual agents, Manne's positive view begins with social environments. For her, misogyny is in the first place a property of an entire social environment. More specifically, she characterizes misogyny in terms of its function within a social environment. As she sometimes puts it, misogyny is the "law enforcement" branch of patriarchy, working to preserve a patriarchal order in a given social environment by doling out punishments and penalties (63). Spelling this out further, misogyny "comprises the hostile social forces that (a) will tend to be faced by a (wider or narrower) class of girls and women because they are girls or women in that (more or less fully specified) social position; and (b) serve to police and enforce a patriarchal social order, instantiated in relation to other intersecting systems of domination and disadvantage that apply to the relevant class of girls and women (e.g., various forms of racism, xenophobia, classism, ageism, transphobia, homophobia, ableism, and so on)" (63). This conception, Manne argues, avoids both unnecessarily psychologizing and individualizing misogyny. Even more importantly, it is "more epistemologically tractable" than the naïve conception, and so yields a term that can be better put to (political) use (60). Manne's rejection of an agent-centered view of misogyny is in keeping with arguments against agent-centered views of related notions like racism or racial oppression.2 Her PAGE 14 SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY account is also very much in the tradition of views that recognize that it's often rational for the oppressed to act in ways that end up furthering their own oppression.3 Insofar as misogyny aims to maintain patriarchy by punishing those who depart from patriarchal norms and expectations, women (and men) have a strong incentive to try to avoid misogynistic penalties by abiding by those norms and expectations. For Manne, what's distinctive about misogyny is not just that it seeks to uphold patriarchy via a system of penalties and punishments but that these punitive measures often have a particularly nasty flavor. In fact, she thinks that the "characteristic sentiment" of misogyny may be that it is "punitive, resentful, and personal, but not particular" (59).4 To explain this, Manne moves beyond the abstract characterization of misogyny sketched above to a more substantive account of patriarchy, as it operates in the United States and elsewhere.5 In these contexts, patriarchy takes the form of a sense of entitlement-on the part of privileged men, at least-to personal goods and services from women. These "feminine-coded" goods and services include sex, care, love, and attention, among others. The associated sense of entitlement means that women's failure to provide these goods and services can result not only in disappointment but also resentment, and from there, nastiness. Misogyny, on this picture, functions as a kind of backlash to (perceptions of) failure to live up to patriarchal expectations (101). For Manne, then, patriarchy can be regarded as a separable oppressive structure, separable, that is, at the level of analysis, if not operation. Patriarchy, on her view, has a logic of its own, and misogyny as one of its main supports. It interacts with other oppressive structures, including racism, xenophobia, transphobia, and the like; and Manne recognizes that misogyny will manifest differently as these interactions take place. Nonetheless, to a significant extent, her focus in this work is on misogyny as its own object of analysis, apart from these other structures. Despite taking social environments as its starting point, Manne's view also permits us to speak derivatively of other misogynistic entities, including individual misogynists, as well as misogynistic practices, movements, institutions, and so on. It is a somewhat striking feature of her discussion that it focuses to a great extent on agents, both perpetrators of misogyny (e.g., Elliot Rodger, Rush Limbaugh, Donald Trump, Tony Abbott, Brock Turner, and many more) and targets (Hillary Clinton and Julia Gillard are discussed especially extensively in this volume). One might wonder how much of this discussion generalizes to less individualistic forms of misogyny. For example, what might it mean for an institution, rather than an agent, to behave in a resentful or nasty or otherwise personally antagonistic manner towards targets? I think this question can be answered, but I would have liked to see more discussion along these lines in the book. Despite this and other points of disagreement, I found much to admire about this book. The extended discussion of real-life cases of misogyny is particularly compelling. Manne is especially insightful in analyzing different ways in which misogyny can show itself, and she provides us with a valuable set of concepts and tools-e.g., "entitled shame" (121), "exonerating narratives" (179), "himpathy" (197), and so on-to help illuminate these cases. I also found Manne's discussion of humanism-i.e., views that seek to explain inhumane treatment by appealing to dehumanizing psychological attitudes-to be particularly noteworthy. Though, as will become clear below, I don't share her pessimism about humanistic views, that discussion forcefully presents an important set of challenges that the humanist must confront. I learned a great deal from that discussion. In the rest of this commentary, I'll focus on two themes. First, I'll look in more detail at Manne's critique of the naïve conception. I find that critique entirely persuasive. However, I'll argue that Manne's preferred conception of misogyny ends up being very broad, in at least three respects. This breadth, I worry, is incompatible with generating predictions about the phenomenon. I'll also consider some responses to this worry, but argue that these too have a cost. Some misclassify clear cases, while others risk re-raising some difficulties for the naïve conception. Second, I'll consider Manne's rejection of humanism. In this part, I'll argue that her substantive account of patriarchy, and the resulting conception of misogyny, is more closely related to humanism than she allows. I'll also emphasize differences between distinct versions of humanism and argue that some may be able to counter some of Manne's main criticisms of this family of views. This part of the discussion seeks to press Manne on precisely how much of humanism she ultimately wishes to reject. 2. AGAINST THE NAÏVE CONCEPTION Recall that the naïve conception renders misogyny as hostility towards women-all women, or women generally speaking-simply because they are women. Manne levels several distinct criticisms against this view; I'll focus on two of these in particular. First, Manne notes that in a moderately well-functioning patriarchy, men will tend to receive feminine-coded goods and services from some women. So there's no reason for them to feel hostility towards all women, or even women in general. That, in turn, would seem to make misogyny- in the sense of the naïve conception-surprisingly rare in just the circumstances in which we most expect to find it (47–49). (As Manne points out, it is a common response to charges of misogyny that the man in question loved some women-his mother, perhaps-or that he put women on a pedestal. One might think that defenses along these lines miss the point, but the naïve conception threatens to make them relevant. So much the worse for the naïve conception.) Second, Manne also argues that the naïve conception makes misogyny difficult to diagnose in particular cases. Insofar as misogyny is a matter of what's in the heart, it is (often) epistemically inaccessible (44). Putting these two worries together, it seems that on the naïve conception, "misogyny" will end up playing a much less useful role than one might have hoped in helping us understand patriarchy. SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 PAGE 15 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY Building on this critique, Manne makes two critical moves towards a better view of misogyny. The first of these, which I've already discussed above, is the move from agents and their psychological attitudes to social environments and their functioning. The second move is from perpetrators of misogyny to its targets or victims: instead of asking what perpetrators feel, i.e., what's in their hearts, Manne suggests that we focus on what victims face. These moves lead to the conception of misogyny quoted at the very outset of this commentary. This conception, she suggests, avoids "a waste of the only word in English that . . . is increasingly being used to refer to a problem that women need a name for" (49). But it's worth pausing at this point to think about which problem it is that's been named here. On one way of understanding Manne's view, the phenomenon she is describing is very broad indeed. In fact, it's so broad- and so varied-that it's hard to see what predictions or generalizations it can sustain. To see this, let's start by noting the wide range of examples of misogyny discussed through the book. These range from cases of intimate-partner violence (Introduction, chapters 4 and 6) to Rush Limbaugh's rhetoric towards Sandra Fluke (chapter 2) to cat-calling and other street harassment (chapter 4) to bias in teaching evaluations (chapter 8), among a host of others. It's plausible that all of these examples involve some hostility towards targets, but one would expect that this hostility would have quite different flavors in these different cases. In particular, not all of this hostility will feature the sort of personalized nastiness described earlier. Some of it may appear quite impersonal, such as when a woman professor, or a woman candidate, is simply held to higher, or different, standards than a male counterpart and found wanting in comparison. Second, and as Manne notes, misogynistic hostility needn't be directed against those who in fact violate patriarchal norms and expectations. It needn't even be directed against those who are perceived as doing so. Instead, misogynistic forces can also pick out targets who are merely convenient. That is, misogyny may manifest in "'punching down' behavior," i.e., behavior that targets whoever happens to be available and vulnerable, regardless of how unthreatening their actions may be (54). In these cases, even though the target of the abuse doesn't violate patriarchal norms, there may still be a sense in which she is picked out because she is a woman (as required by Manne's conception). This would be the case if, for example, the abuser is the target's partner, and the abuse reflects his awareness that he is more likely to get away with violence inside the home than violence directed against non-family members. Third, as Manne also notes, misogyny will regularly be entwined with other systems of oppression. But she tells us very little about what this interaction looks like, or what we can say about how significant the role of misogyny is in any particular instance. This gives rise to two related, but different, concerns. One is that this conception of misogyny will include cases in which patriarchy in fact plays a relatively small role, while something else-say, white supremacy, or xenophobia-plays a much more significant role in generating the hostility towards a particular target. So this is another way in which the conception is quite broad. A related concern is that, epistemically speaking, the cases in which it will be clearest that misogyny plays a sizeable role will be those in which oppressive structures beyond patriarchy are not involved. To put the point another way, the clearest cases will be ones where the targets are privileged women. And that seems like a shortcoming for the account. I've been arguing so far that Manne's conception of misogyny may be very broad indeed, along three dimensions. In fact, the phenomenon seems so broad that it's hard to see how it can support predictions, including predictions about where misogyny is most likely to arise, and who the targets are most likely to be. On this picture, then, misogyny seems less about law enforcement-contra Manne's preferred metaphor-and more akin to collective punishment, where all women and girls live under the threat (or reality) of sanctions. There are some different responses available at this point. One response is to restrict the conception of misogyny along some or all of the dimensions described above. For example, we could say that misogyny must be directed at those who themselves violate (or are perceived to violate) patriarchal norms or expectations, thereby excluding punching down behavior. But this risks excluding from the realm of misogyny much that arguably belongs there, including much intimate-partner violence. Another response would retain the broad conception of misogyny, but distinguish between instances that are paradigmatic, and others that are less so. For example, we might say that the most paradigmatic instances of misogyny feature the kind of personalized nastiness that Manne emphasizes, even if not all instances do so. I'm inclined to think that this is the more plausible response, but here too there are concerns. Briefly, here's one concern. Consider Manne's analysis of Limbaugh's rhetoric towards Fluke, after Fluke testified before Congress that contraception should be covered by health insurance at religious institutions. Manne argues that Limbaugh is not just hostile towards Fluke, but seems also to hold a "personal-seeming" grudge against her (56). As evidence for this claim, she notes Limbaugh's characterization of Fluke as demanding to be paid to have sex, and his use of the labels "slut" and "prostitute" to describe her. She suggests that Limbaugh regards-or at least purports to regard-Fluke as "entitled and demanding," and as owing something to taxpayers in return for being paid by them (57). But this, one might think, comes very close to making claims about Limbaugh's attitudes, or purported attitudes, towards Fluke. And if we need to appeal to such attitudes in order to show that a particular instance of misogyny goes beyond hostility to personalized nastiness, then we might be on our way back to the naïve conception. 3. AGAINST HUMANISM I'll turn next to Manne's substantive account of patriarchy, according to which men take themselves to be entitled PAGE 16 SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY to certain kinds of labor from women. For Manne, this entitlement is rooted in a particular view of women, specifically, a view about what a woman's purpose is, or "a sense of what she's (there) for as a woman" (175). It's this ideal of "the giving she"-an excellent phrase that Manne styles on the unfortunately popular children's book by Shel Silverstein-that is meant to explain why there is disappointment, resentment, and vitriol when particular women fail to live up to it (279). Now, one might think that the idea that women are for something-i.e., that we have a purpose or an end, not of our own choosing, but perhaps by our very natures-is a kind of dehumanizing view.6 It's not the kind of dehumanization that fails to recognize that women have inner lives in the first place, or that we are capable of intentional action. That is to say, it's not the kind of dehumanization that regards women as less than human.7 Rather, it's the kind of dehumanization that goes along with viewing women as determined by our natures in some significant way, while men are not so determined. To put it another way, it is to see women as importantly different from other human beings, as having a kind of fixity or uniformity that other human beings lack. Perhaps we should say that this kind of dehumanization involves seeing women as other than human, but not necessarily less. This kind of view-about women being determined in some significant way by our natures-is one that feminists have long been concerned to counter. Manne, however, rejects humanism; further, she regards her own view as an alternative to humanistic views.8 In fact, she thinks that humanism is, in general, a failure: it can't even explain the cases that it was designed to explain, i.e., mass atrocities under the influence of dehumanizing propaganda, let alone the cases of misogyny which are her principal focus. In the remainder of this commentary, I'll take up some of her criticisms. One of Manne's main arguments against humanistic views goes like this. Humanism is committed to the following claims: we human beings are able to recognize something like a "common humanity" in other human beings that goes beyond recognition of shared species membership; further, failure to recognize this common humanity functions as a "powerful, perhaps even necessary, psychological lubricant" to inhumane treatment of others, including mass murder, rape, and torture (141–45).9 In response, Manne points out that recognizing a common humanity is, at best, a "double-edged sword" (148): while other human beings can be friends and loved ones, they can also be enemies and rivals. And the latter can be threatening or dangerous in distinctive ways that non-humans cannot. Thus, recognizing a common humanity in others is entirely compatible with regarding them as threats, and as such, being disposed to subject them to deeply inhumane treatment. This seems right, and an important insight. But it's not clear why this should spell doom for the humanist. It seems open to the humanist to make two (related) responses here. First, they might note that even if recognizing a common humanity isn't sufficient for morally acceptable treatment, failure to recognize this will tend to produce morally egregious treatment. That is, recognizing another's humanity isn't enough to preclude hostile treatment; but lack of recognition will ease the way for atrocities. Second, there are distinct ways to regard another as an enemy, only some of which are compatible (in my view) with recognizing a common humanity. For example, consider the difference between regarding another as someone to be defeated in a "fair" fight versus as someone to be destroyed by whatever means happen to be available. The former seems to me more clearly compatible with recognition of a common humanity than the latter. A point of clarification may be helpful here. Manne regards humanism as primarily a psychological story, one that attributes dehumanizing psychological attitudes towards targets. But just as there was an alternative to the naïve conception of misogyny that de-emphasized psychological attitudes, there is surely an alternative version of humanism that does the same thing. Instead of starting with psychological attitudes, this alternative version might focus instead on social treatment. In fact, Manne herself suggests resources for developing such a view when she notes that recognizing others' common humanity can include "enter[ing] into and sustain[ing] various characteristically human social relations, including marriage, parenthood, siblinghood, friendship, [and] collegial relations" (142, emphases in original).10 If that's right, then dehumanizing others can involve systematically excluding them from social relations, or licensing others to do the same. And this, in turn, points the way towards a non-psychologized-or at least, a much less psychologized-version of humanism. It's this version of humanism that, in my view, bears some striking similarities to Manne's substantive account of patriarchy (and misogyny). There's more to be said here. As Manne recognizes, one major attraction of humanism is the explanation it appears to offer for the prevalence of dehumanizing propaganda in the lead-up to genocides and other mass atrocities. If dehumanization doesn't in some sense pave the way for these atrocities, then why does this type of propaganda show up time and again in the lead-up? Manne makes two points in response. First, she suggests that "the uptake of dehumanizing propaganda [may amount] to false consciousness, at least in many instances" (165). The thought, I take it, is that the content of the propaganda may be parroted but isn't genuinely believed; the acceptance of this content doesn't go that deep, so to speak. Second, and relatedly, Manne also notes the prevalence of mass rapes in times of war, and argues that genuine acceptance of dehumanizing propaganda would render these difficult to explain. She writes: It is not just that sex between human beings and nonhuman animals is generally taboo. . . . It is also that the spirit in which mass rapes tend to be committed is typically vindictive, punitive, triumphalist, and domineering. These acts hence bear all of the hallmarks of interpersonal violence. . . . (165, emphasis in original) And if that's right, then it seems that humanism cannot even explain some of the central cases for which it was designed. SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 PAGE 17 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY I'm not entirely persuaded by this line of argument. For one thing, the false consciousness hypothesis doesn't explain why the propaganda in question so often has dehumanizing content, rather than some other derogatory content, e.g., why it doesn't merely cast the targets as enemies or rivals. More importantly, a less psychologized humanism has a story to tell about the social functions served by this dehumanizing propaganda, regardless of whether it is believed; such a view could point to the role this propaganda plays in marking some as members of outgroups, and legitimating morally egregious actions towards them.11 And, finally, while I think Manne is right to emphasize the "punitive" and "triumphalist" spirit that accompanies mass rapes, it's worth asking whether that spirit is directed against the victims (as she suggests) or against the entire communities to which they belong. Some researchers have argued that rape in war sometimes functions as weapons against entire communities, by destroying some members, and forcing others to bear children from those violations.12 If that's right, then the violence involved may not be as distinctively interpersonal as the passage above suggests. Putting this all together: I've suggested that there's more to be said in defense of (some versions of) humanism than Manne allows, and that her positive view bears some striking similarities to those versions. There is, obviously, a lot more to be said on these issues. And I look forward to continuing this conversation. NOTES 1. All citations to Manne, Down Girl, except where otherwise noted. 2. See, for example, Mills, "'Heart' Attack," and Haslanger, "Oppressions." 3. See, for example, Cudd, Analyzing Oppression. 4. Manne draws a helpful connection here between misogyny in her sense and P. F. Strawson's account of the role of interpersonal reactive attitudes in capturing the "essentially personal antagonisms" (Strawson, "Freedom and Resentment," quoted on 58, emphasis in original). 5. In this connection Manne mentions "cultures such as the United States, the United Kingdom, and Australia" (106). 6. To be clear, Manne doesn't talk of women's natures. But the view that women are for something, that we are meant to be givers not takers, invites the question, "From where does this purpose arise?" An appeal to women's natures would be one way of answering that question, though perhaps not the only one. 7. For a useful taxonomy of distinct uses of the term "dehumanize" in the philosophical literature, see Smith, "Paradoxes of Dehumanization." Smith himself uses the term to mean "conceiving of others as subhuman creatures" (419). 8. Manne emphasizes that the feminine-coded goods demanded by patriarchy can only be provided by human beings. I don't have the space to discuss this important part of her view here. But I am suggesting that patriarchy, on her view, is committed both to viewing women as fixed, perhaps by our very natures, and viewing us as "all too human" givers; there is a tension there that is reminiscent of tensions that appear on humanistic views, between viewing some as subhuman and, at the same time, recognizing that they are in fact human. 9. These correspond to the Conceptual-cum-perceptual claim and the Quasi-contrapositive moral psychological claim, respectively, that Manne discusses in her chapter 5. 10. For a detailed account that uses ability to stand in social relations as a crucial explanatory device for some inhumane treatment, see Melo Lopes, Recognizing Social Subjects. 11. For views along these lines, see McGowan, "On 'Whites Only' Signs and Racist Hate Speech"; Tirrell, "Genocidal Language Games"; and Stanley, How Propaganda Works, among others. 12. See, for example, Beverly Allen's analysis of "genocidal rape" in Croatia and Bosnia-Herzogovina (Allen, Rape Warfare). REFERENCES Allen, Beverly. Rape Warfare: The Hidden Genocide in BosniaHerzogovina and Croatia. Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 1996. Cudd, Ann E. Analyzing Oppression. New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 2006. Haslanger, Sally. "Oppressions: Racial and Other." In Racism in Mind, edited by Michael P. Levine and Tamas Pataki, 97–123. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2004. Manne, Kate. Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2018. McGowan, Mary Kate. "On 'Whites Only' Signs and Racist Hate Speech: Verbal Acts of Racial Discrimination." In Speech and Harm: Controversies over Free Speech, edited by Ishani Maitra and Mary Kate McGowan, 121–47. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012. Melo Lopes, Filipa. Recognizing Social Subjects: Gender, Disability, and Social Standing (unpublished doctoral dissertation). University of Michigan, 2019. Mills, Charles. "'Heart' Attack: A Critique of Jorge Garcia's Volitional Conception of Racism." The Journal of Ethics 7, no. 1 (2003): 29–62. Smith, David Livingstone. "Paradoxes of Dehumanization." Social Theory and Practice 42, no. 2 (2016): 416–43. Stanley, Jason. How Propaganda Works. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2015. Strawson, P. F. "Freedom and Resentment." Proceedings of the British Academy 48 (1962): 1–25. Tirrell, Lynne. "Genocidal Language Games." In Speech and Harm: Controversies over Free Speech, edited by Ishani Maitra and Mary Kate McGowan, 174–221. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012. Misogyny and Dehumanization Audrey Yap UNIVERSITY OF VICTORIA Kate Manne's book, Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny, is an important and timely intervention in the public discourse on gendered hostility and violence. It provides us with a useful framework for understanding the distinctive function that misogyny plays in contemporary society. This work is extremely rich, but for the purposes of this article, I will only be focusing on one particular aspect of it, and arguing against one particular claim, which is the link (or lack thereof) between misogyny and dehumanization. But I want to make it clear from the outset that the nature of my disagreement has primarily to do with the best ways to model the oppressive social structures and institutions that shape our lives, as well as how such things are upheld by the people who participate in them-including ourselves. Misogyny is a real phenomenon, as is racism, ableism, colonialism, and other forms of oppression. And even if we might disagree on the details of how they have shaped actual cases, we can nevertheless appreciate the depth and insight with which Manne has helped us to understand one such destructive force. This paper will be divided into two sections. First, I will outline what I see as a particularly insightful aspect of Manne's PAGE 18 SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY work, namely, the close relationship between misogyny and the maintenance of social hierarchies. Second, I will outline a concern related to Manne's characterization of women's role in such hierarchies. Manne argues that women are positioned as givers of distinctly human moral goods, and for this reason, misogyny is not a matter of dehumanization. While I do not contest this conclusion, I will argue that the cases she chooses to illustrate it are nevertheless cases in which there is significant dehumanization-not as a result of misogyny, but because of other oppressive forces that frequently co-occur with it. I think that in order to better understand misogyny in many real-world situations, we need to consider how it interacts with other forms of oppression. While Manne's analysis of misogyny is excellent as a tool for analyzing much hostility and violence that women face, this analysis needs to be combined with our understanding of racism, ableism, transphobia, and many other oppressive forces in order to be more broadly applicable, even to some of the cases in which it is applied in this book. The book, however, is undeniably timely. When I was reading it in preparation for giving a commentary, ten people in Toronto were killed, and several more were injured, by a man driving a van aimed at hitting pedestrians. Alek Minassian, a self-described "incel" (abbreviating "involuntary celibate") posted on Facebook a short time before the attack, declaring the "Incel Rebellion" to have started, and concluding with "All hail the Supreme Gentleman Elliot Rodger."1 Elliot Rodger is the perpetrator of the 2014 Isla Vista killings, which serves as one of the motivating examples in Manne's analysis of misogyny. Then a twenty-two-year-old man, Rodger became famous when he stabbed and killed his roommates and a guest in their apartment before driving to the Alpha Phi sorority house nearby. When he found himself unable to gain entry to the house, he began a public shooting spree. Several young women from another sorority were killed just around the corner from Alpha Phi. Through drive-by shootings, he killed or injured several other people, both men and women, before turning his gun on himself.2 What made Rodger stand out, and the reason why he went on to become a kind of heroic figure for many frustrated young men, was the YouTube video he posted shortly before the killings started. Despite the fact that several of Rodger's victims were men, his stated motive for the killings in the posted video was the punishment of women-particularly attractive women, who had never been attracted to him. Now, as is often the case when there are acts of violence committed by light-skinned people, some media and at least one of Minassian's friends, cited the issue as primarily one of mental illness.3 But a lone wolf-type attack, even when it is committed by someone neuroatypical, does not necessarily have mental illness as its primary cause. Nor should we allow the underlying ableism of such assumptions to go unquestioned. Manne's focus, though, is not on the ableism inherent in the ready availability of mental illness as an explanation of many violent crimes. Nor is it on the racism that leads many of us to engage in differential treatment of acts of violence perpetrated by people of different ethnicities. After all, acts of domestic terror committed by darker-skinned folk are readily characterized as belonging to a larger pattern of terrorism waged on North America by faceless darker-skinned others. Her account of misogyny can, however, be seen as a kind of implicit challenge to such presumptions, by providing us with a better explanation of many cases of gendered violence than mental illness or cultural differences. Understanding misogyny is a matter of understanding the social dynamics behind much of the hostility that is directed at women. As Manne describes it, it is "the 'law enforcement' branch of a patriarchal social order, which has the overall function of policing and enforcing its governing ideology."4 Unlike sexism, its function is not to justify women, or nonmen, as having a lower place in the social hierarchy, but is rather to enforce that lower social status. Moreover, it is not best understood in terms of individual attitudes or sexist hatred of women. While many who commit misogynist acts may also hate the women against whom they are engaging in hostilities, this is not a necessary component of misogyny as a general phenomenon. In fact, it is entirely compatible to claim that misogynist acts, like the Isla Vista killings, can be committed by people who desired women, perhaps loved them in some way. But this should not be surprising to anyone familiar with statistics of violence against women, since the majority of violence enacted against women is at the hands of people they know, often current or former intimate partners, and in the name of love or desire. Misogynist violence, then, is less a matter of hatred than of maintaining subordination. After all, the sexual entitlement that drives the violence enacted by men such as Minassian and Rodger doesn't require a hatred of women, specifically. It might require anger directed at women, but anger is generally independent of our more general attitudes towards others, as we are capable of being angry at a range of people, including strangers, enemies, and loved ones. While incel rhetoric might encourage a hatred of women in general, their feelings towards individual women can and should be kept conceptually distinct from the ways in which they act in accordance with misogyny to punish women. On the subject of incels, though, it might nevertheless be worth noting that there might be something political about hierarchies of sexual desirability. Stereotypes about hypersexual Black men and sexually submissive Asian women remain in popular culture, while disabled people are often viewed as asexual. The "cotton ceiling" is a term that was introduced to describe the difficulties that queer trans women have in navigating lesbian spaces.5 While many incels occupy relatively privileged social identities, many of them do accurately perceive themselves to be less conventionally attractive and socially adept than other men, and attribute this to their lower sexual desirability among women. (Though it is likely no accident that violent misogynists are also sexually and romantically undesirable, sadly, being a violent misogynist does not seem sufficient to guarantee a nonexistent romantic life.) As a result of this lower degree of desirability, some of them see themselves as victims of injustice. And while Manne's later discussions of victimhood are more centered on what we might see as appropriate claims of victim status, many of its insights still carry over. As she points out, to cast oneself as a victim is to place oneself at the center of the story, and in many SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 PAGE 19 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY cases to cast others as oppressors.6 Such is the narrative that many incels attempt to claim as their own. Incels see themselves as victims because they see themselves as unjustly deprived of sexual attention. Centering themselves in the story means that the desire of others doesn't matter-only the fact that they themselves are not desired. Consequently, since victim narratives typically require a villain, the natural scapegoats are the desirable-for-them women who are not desirous of them, as well as the men who they perceive as getting more women than they deserve. Lashing out against this victimhood is, then, taking, by force if need be, what they perceive as their due, namely, sex with whichever women they want. So the victim narrative leads them to a kind of justification for rape, which involves a kind of analogy between sexual and literal starvation. But what they do not do is challenge the social hierarchies in which they themselves are at the bottom. Lashing out against their own perceived low status does not take the form of challenging who is seen as desirable in the first place. That would involve criticizing an overall system in which many bodies besides their own are seen as essentially unfuckable. After all, the "Chads" that incels seem to both envy and despise make up a relative minority of men. And certainly not all men outside that relative minority embrace incel modes of thinking. So when we look at the ways in which incels protest hierarchies of desirability, it is clear that they are not in fact making demands for justice (even when they claim to be). Nor are they genuinely challenging a system that privileges only a small number of bodily configurations. Rather, they are demanding to be among the beneficiaries of an unjust system left intact. Misogyny is fundamentally about the maintenance of social hierarchies, specifically those that stem from a patriarchal social order. Incels do not direct their own positive attention towards women other than "Stacys," those also occupying positions of stereotypical sexual desirability. But there are many women who are not seen as desirable (and the term "incel" was, in fact, originally coined by a woman, though with extremely different intentions behind it). Incel rhetoric maintains the overall patriarchal arrangement by situating men in general as being owed something by women. Incels are generally acutely aware of their low social status with respect to other men, but they still take themselves to be above women in general, and entitled to women in general. But the question of what exactly they see themselves as entitled to forms the crux of one of Manne's points that I will argue is misdirected. Incels and other misogynists often demand love, care, and sex from women they desire, punishing women, or in some cases the world, if they are not given their due. What Manne notes is that the things demanded are distinctively human in that the kind of care that women are supposed to provide is of a distinctively human sort. This is a key claim that she uses to argue against a view that she calls humanism, which considers dehumanization to be a key factor in atrocities such as war crimes. The positive proposal that accompanies this view is that we might hope to forestall such crimes by finding strategies for us to see others as fully human. Under this thesis, the recognition of another person as a genuine fellow human is necessary for treating them as such, but also motivates us to do so. This leads us to the idea that dehumanization makes it easier to treat others in morally abhorrent ways, by torturing or killing them, for instance. Though the connection between these claims is certainly not one of logical entailment, the positive proposal of making others' humanity more visible in the face of their marginalization or vulnerability then becomes better supported. I have little to say about the positive proposal of humanization as a central strategy for preventing atrocities, and nothing I will say turns on its effectiveness. Nevertheless, we might be skeptical about the positive proposal while still maintaining that dehumanization contributes significantly to atrocities. For instance, David Livingstone Smith gives an account of dehumanization under which it functions by positioning others as simultaneously human and sub- human.7 While those dehumanized are acknowledged as having a human form, and behaving in many ways as humans do, they are treated as having an essence that is "uncanny" or unheimlich, in Smith's terms. So such an account does not suffer too much from counterexamples in which pointing out commonalities between "us" and "them" fails to have desired effects, since it is built in to the view that there will be some, at least superficial, points of resemblance. As further points of support for an account under which dehumanization plays a key role in enabling atrocities, we have empirical evidence of dehumanizing language at the very least being used prior to genocides. Lynne Tirrell in particular takes a close look at the Rwandan genocide, and argues that calling Tutsi people by terms used for cockroaches and snakes performed action-engendering functions.8 This does not mean, of course, that Tutsis were to be thought of as literal insects or ophidians, but that they were to be considered in such terms, culturally speaking. As a matter of course, snakes are things that Rwandan boys take pride in killing. A snake is, then, an animal for which a particular course of action is suggested, namely, extermination. As Tirrell argues, it is not an accident that a group to be targeted was described in terms that equate them with animals to be exterminated. Portraying Tutsis as being essentially snakes or some other kind of vermin was to suggest that they be treated as vermin. We might worry that something similar is going on in the US as well, when President Trump refers to some deported people as animals,9 or when we consider the history of dog whistle politics.10 Manne's strongest argument against humanism as described above relies on her argument that the things demanded of women (feminine coded goods) are distinctively human. For instance, she points out the tensions between a dehumanization thesis and the fact of sexual enslavement and wartime rape: if the perpetrators of mass atrocities often dehumanize their victims, then why do the perpetrators so frequently rape the female ones? It is not just that sex between human beings and nonhuman animals is generally taboo, and relatively PAGE 20 SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY unusual, partly because of this. It is also that the spirit in which mass rapes tend to be committed is typically vindictive, punitive, triumphalist, and domineering. These acts hence bear all of the hallmarks of interpersonal violence, which is expressive of and gives vent to paradigmatically interpersonal reactive attitudes.11 While it is true that we do not tend to want sexual relationships with those perceived as animal-incels who desire sexual relationships with women might hate women but still view them as human-I want to push back against a characterization of wartime rapes (and many other cases of rape) as sexual encounters. Instead, a characterization of women as goods rather than human givers seems consistent with both the view that perpetrators dehumanize victims, as well as other typical wartime actions. One prima facie reason to accept that the victims of mass atrocities are dehumanized is the prevalence of apparently dehumanizing propaganda targeting enemy populations during wartime. For example, American anti-Japanese propaganda during World War II gives us a prime example of dehumanizing racist portrayals of enemies. But then Manne's question of why one would rape an individual who is seen as subhuman still stands. One candidate explanation is to see wartime rape as continuous with a general tendency towards looting and the destruction of property. On such an account, rape would be a way of degrading a particular kind of loot, namely, women for whom no sexual desire would need to be present. Soldiers might burn homes as a way of displaying dominance over civilians in an enemy country, just as they might steal valuables. It seems compatible with Smith's account of dehumanization to see women, in such cases, as having the moral status of objects and other goods that might be plundered. But given the kinds of goods that women are (in human form, after all), sex can be a way of claiming ownership, or of destroying another's property. So while misogyny might dictate how women are to be dominated, the purpose of such domination may not be to put women back in their place, nor to treat them as agents who might be motivated or cowed by intimidation. Rather, it might be to send a message to "their" men, just as the vandalism or theft of property might send a message. If the (probably male) soldiers on the opposing side of the war are the (more fully human) enemies to be resisted, then one way to lash out at them would be to vandalize what is theirs: homes, land, valuable items, and women. In such a way, wartime rape can still be understood as having the characteristics of interpersonal violence. But rather than being directed towards the women who are being victimized, revenge is being enacted against male enemy combatants through the degradation of their property. I think that this candidate explanation is plausible, but much more work would need to be done to argue that it is in fact what is going on in cases of war. It is simply intended to illustrate one potential answer to Manne's question for proponents of a dehumanization thesis. Further, insofar as misogyny contributes to atrocities, my argument here has not been that its contribution lies in dehumanization. Based on what I have argued, we still do not need to suppose any close connection between misogyny and dehumanization, or claim that a sexist ideology justifying a patriarchal social order needs to dehumanize women in order to be coherent. Indeed, in many cases of misogyny, such as misogyny applying to more privileged women like Julia Gillard and Hillary Clinton, dehumanization seems a fairly inappropriate explanation for the ways in which they were treated. Rather, they do in fact seem to be treated as rivals, or as fellow humans laying claim to status to which they are not entitled. Rather, what I want to point out is that even if misogyny does not require dehumanization, it certainly seems to be compatible with it, and wartime rape is very plausibly a place in which the two coincide. Since Down Girl was not about dehumanization, nor about the maintenance of sexist or racist ideologies, some of the issues I have raised may be outside of its scope. But the reasons for raising these issues is the fact that the real horrors we find in the world are often complicated. And in many cases of oppression, multiple different subordinating forces will be at work, the effects of which can often be extremely difficult to untangle, much less mitigate. I think that Down Girl has given us a very helpful analysis of one such force that contributes to the enforcement of genderbased oppression. But it has also helped us see just how much more work there is still to do in understanding the ways in which oppression shapes our lives. NOTES 1. Crilly, Guly, and Molloy, "What Do We Know about Alek Minassian, Arrested After Toronto Van Attack?" 2. Manne, Down Girl, 35-36. 3. Bell, "'He Wasn't a Terrorist.'" 4. Manne, Down Girl, 63. 5. Srinivasan discusses these issues in much greater detail in "Does Anyone Have the Right to Sex?" 6. Manne, Down Girl, 248. 7. Smith, Less Than Human; Smith, "Paradoxes of Dehumanization." 8. Tirrell, "Genocidal Language Games." 9. Lind, "Trump on Deported Immigrants." 10. Haney López, Dog Whistle Politics; Saul, "Dogwhistles, Political Manipulation, and Philosophy of Language." 11. Manne, Down Girl, 165. REFERENCES Bell, Stewart. 2018. "'He Wasn't a Terrorist': Those Who Knew Alek Minassian Struggle to Explain the Toronto Van Attack." Global News, April 25, 2018. Available at https://globalnews.ca/news/4168222/he- wasnt-terrorist-toronto-attack/. Crilly, Rob, Christopher Guly, and Mark Molloy. "What Do We Know about Alek Minassian, Arrested After Toronto Van Attack?" The Telegraph, April 25, 2018. Available at https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2018/04/24/ do-know-alek-minassian-arrested-toronto-van-attack/. Lind, Dara. "Trump on Deported Immigrants: 'They're Not People. They're Animals.'" Vox, May 17, 2018. Available at https://www.vox. com/2018/5/16/17362870/trump-immigrants-animals-ms-13-illegal. Haney López, Ian. Dog Whistle Politics: How Coded Racial Appeals Have Reinvented Racism and Wrecked the Middle Class. New York: Oxford University Press, 2014. Manne, Kate. Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny. New York: Oxford University Press, 2017. SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 PAGE 21 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY Saul, Jennifer. "Dogwhistles, Political Manipulation, and Philosophy of Language." In New Work on Speech Acts, edited by Daniel Fogal, Matt Cross, and Daniel Harris, Oxford: Oxford University Press, forthcoming. Smith, David Livingstone. Less Than Human: Why We Demean, Enslave, and Exterminate Others. New York: St. Martin's Press, 2011. Smith, David Livingstone. "Paradoxes of Dehumanization." Social Theory and Practice 42, no. 2 (2016): 416–43. Srinivasan, Amia. "Does Anyone Have the Right to Sex?" London Review of Books 40, no. 6 (2018): 5–10. Tirrell, Lynne. "Genocidal Language Games." In Speech and Harm, edited by Ishani Maitra and Mary Kate McGowan, 174–221. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012. Autism, Himpathy, and Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny Elle Benjamin UNIVERSITY OF MASSACHUSETTS AMHERST Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny by Kate Manne is a comprehensive exposition and analysis of society's subjugation of people who are girls and women. Contrary to the naïve conception, Manne holds that misogyny is not a blanket hatred of girls and women. Rather, misogyny functions to punish her socially for failing to adequately perform her patriarchal role as provider of moral and social goods, such as love, sex, sympathy, and admiration, to the men in her life. Manne's project is an ameliorative one, striving towards a conception of misogyny that unifies the multifaceted ways that girls and women experience patriarchal subjugation, even the ones who comply. Notably, Manne argues that misogyny is not grounded in a confusion about what she is essentially like, for instance, whether she is essentially nurturing or submissive. Rather, misogyny is the normatively motivated practice of instilling in her these traits, because according to the logic of misogyny, they comprise her human value. Manne invokes many case studies in support of her thesis that misogyny primarily serves to punish girls and women who fail to perform their patriarchal duties. Two notable incidents discussed in depth are the widely publicized cases of Elliot Rodger and Brock Turner, both of them students in college when they garnered national attention. On Friday, May 23, 2014, Elliot Rodger, aged twenty-two, killed six people in what he dubbed his Day of Retribution. After stabbing his roommates to death that morning, Rodgers attempted to gain access to a sorority house on the UC Santa Barbara campus in order to murder the women inside, but he was denied access because the women were alarmed by the aggressive tone of his knock on their door. Instead, Rodgers took his rampage to the streets, murdering four people in his path and injuring many more. Rodger's motivations were transparent. From a YouTube video he posted earlier that day, Rodger says, "[I've been] forced to endure an existence of loneliness, rejection, and unfulfilled desires, all because girls have never been attracted to me. Girls gave their affection and sex and love to other men but never to me. . . . It has been very torturous."1 A year later, Brock Turner, aged twenty, was indicted for sexually assaulting an unconscious twenty-two-year-old woman behind a dumpster on the Stanford University campus, which Turner attended on an athletic scholarship. Two visiting graduate students from Sweden caught Turner digitally penetrating the woman, who appeared to be unconscious. Turner tried to run away from the scene, but the graduate students chased him down and restrained him until the police arrived. Turner plead not guilty on all charges and was sentenced to six months in the Santa Clara County jail, but ultimately served only three months in jail and three months of probation before he was released. Elliot Rodger's and Brock Turner's actions are both misogynistic on Manne's account. Both behaved as though they are entitled to sexual favors from women, with Rodger explicitly punishing her for withholding sex, and Turner acting as if her consent for sex is irrelevant. Furthermore, both received misogynistic responses to their actions. In a letter to the judge presiding over the case, Turner's father's chief concern was that his son suffered emotionally in the aftermath of the crime he committed. In response to feminist pleas for gender equity following Elliot Rodger's Day of Retribution, Chris Ferguson, a professor of psychology, countered in Time magazine that "Misogyny didn't turn Roger into a killer." Instead, Ferguson argued, Roger's misogyny was a product of mental illness, social isolation, sexual frustration, and general frustration, "rather than anything 'taught' to him by society. Had he not been so focused on his own sexual inadequacies, his focus might simply have moved to mall-goers rather than sorority sisters."2 Manne calls responses of this sort instances of himpathy, the tendency to justify and exonerate men's misogynistic behavior by reflexively redirecting the flow of sympathy from their female victims back onto the men who mistreated them.3 Turner's father's response to his son's misogyny was himpathetic (an instance of himpathy) because an appropriate response to someone feeling down about having committed sexual assault is: Good. People should feel bad about committing sexual assault. Hopefully that bad feeling is guilt, and hopefully that guilty feeling will motivate people to never commit sexual assault again. By framing his son's negative feelings about the incident as the undesired result that merits further consideration and sympathy, Turner's father implicitly rejects the premise that those negative feelings are deserved. He also hoards the judge's sympathies for his son when they are better spent on the victim of his son's misogynistic behavior. Chris Ferguson's and others' responses to Elliot Rodger's Day of Retribution also exhibited himpathy. Many commentators explicitly rejected the outcries of women who felt that Rodger's actions, and especially his rhetoric, represented a broader cultural problem with the way we think about and behave towards women. Instead, Ferguson and others derailed that conversation by casting blame on Rodger's mental illness, with National Review contributor Heather Mac Donald claiming that "there is no pattern of gender-based rampages in this country; there is an emerging pattern of rampages by the untreated mentally ill."4 One glaring omission in this response is the existence of very many women who also suffer from PAGE 22 SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY mental illness, yet are not making these sorts of headlines. This counterpoint is such low-hanging fruit that one might wonder whether motivated thinking prevented these otherwise intellectually competent people from noticing the gendered asymmetries at all. What is especially betraying about this response is that, for all the sympathy exhibited towards Rodger's plight, not even Ferguson, the professional psychologist, seems to have investigated the condition that Rodger was suspected to have had. Nor did they bother to explain in any detail why, given that particular condition, Rodger would have been especially susceptible to the misogynistic rhetoric that he displayed. One might expect that where there is genuine sympathy, there is some sort of attempt to educate the public about what the sympathy is for, why the sympathy is warranted, and how we can help such sympathetic individuals avoid this fate in the future. But these commentators displayed little interest in doing the leg work to justify and exonerate Rodger in virtue of his condition. This implies that Rodger's condition was not the real target here. What they wanted is to divert attention away from the conversation about misogyny, using Rodger's condition as a smokescreen. Their sympathy towards Rodger should therefore not be construed as sympathy for his condition, but rather, sympathy for his maleness. Himpathy. One of Manne's criticisms of himpathy is that it diverts attention away from the experiences of the victims of misogynistic mistreatment, and instead refocuses the discussion back onto the experiences of those who mistreated them. But I wonder if there are any cases where focusing on the experiences of the misogynist can be beneficial for everyone-including the misogynistic perpetrators and the misogynystically oppressed. In particular, I wonder if there is an unhimpathetic way to talk about Elliot Rodger that illuminates the effect of his condition on his misogyny, without emitting any sympathy at all in virtue of his maleness. The himpathetic commentators that Manne discusses mischaracterized the nature of Rodger's condition by calling it mental illness. Consequently, readers were denied a deeper understanding of what Rodger was experiencing, why he was experiencing it, and how we can help people with similar experiences avoid Rodger's fate. Without crossing the line into himpathetic territory, that is what I am going to try to do here. I leave it to Manne to decide whether or not I succeed. In a statement on behalf of the Rodgers family, a family friend notes that Elliot Rodger was suspected to be on the autism spectrum. Autism is a neurological condition, not a mental illness, although many autistic people develop mental illnesses like depression and anxiety as a result of being neurodivergent in a world made for and run by neurotypical people. Autism can manifest in many ways, and there are many theories of autism. The Intense World Theory of autism describes autism as a hyper-functioning of local neural microcircuits that results in hyper-reactivity and hyper-plasticity. Some of the core cognitive consequences of this is hyper-perception, hyper-attention, hyper-memory, and hyper-emotionality.5 In sum, autistic people have more intense perceptions and emotional experiences of the world. Unlike bipolar disorder, this intensity does not oscillate between depression and mania. Autistic people experience those emotions intensely, but also many others. Autistic people prefer a literal and explicit communication style, often missing connotative content, including implicit normative content. Additionally, autistic people are prone to exhibit weak central coherence, the cognitive tendency to focus on parts instead of wholes, sometimes missing the wholes entirely. To mediate these cognitive difficulties, many autistic people are over-reliant on rules, heuristics, and social scripts, as opposed to social intuition, to navigate their environments. Consequently, autistic people can become very confused and frustrated when these social scripts and rules do not yield expected results, or when social intuition is a prerequisite that becomes a barrier for access. Autistic people are often characterized as having poor theory of mind, but many autistic people reject this characterization. Insofar as autistic people have historically been pathologized by those with different cognitive architectures, it seems unfair to describe autistic people as mind-blind.6 There is a distinctive autistic culture in autistic communities, and many autistic people find that in these environments the mind-blindness is reduced. This is only a brief and partial description of the autistic neurotype, but it touches on the reasons why Elliot Rodger, if he was in fact autistic, would have been especially susceptible to misogynistic ideology. Moreover, it touches on some of the ways that we can help similar people avoid Rodger's fate. First, the stereotype of the misanthropic autistic person is false. Many autistic people yearn for companionship just like everyone else, as Rodger did. But much of our dating culture is mediated through social mechanisms that the autistic person lacks, like subtle body language and social cues, creating a barrier to access that social activity.7 This by itself is sufficient to generate a lot of anxiety about dating, especially for men, who are expected to initiate romantic engagement and seduce romantic prospects into cooperating. If Rodger was the only autistic person in his social environment, this would have presented the sort of challenge one might experience trying to conduct a business deal with people who speak another language. Rodger would not have met the minimal social qualifications to achieve a baseline level of trust upon which a relationship might develop. Indeed, Rodger's family friend confirmed that he lived an isolated life and had no friends. We can conclude from his videos, however, that his social failure was not caused by a lack of social interest. The significance of Rodger's involuntary social isolation on his misogynistic ideology is that he would not have had access to the counter-data that many men use to dismantle the sexist stereotypes and narratives about women that society proliferates. For example, when we are taught that women are essentially nurturing, but have no stake in the truth of that claim, we typically hold that belief until countervailing evidence comes along. For instance, we might get to know a woman who lacks a nurturing disposition and update away from the truth of the essentializing claim. After meeting enough women who are counterexamples to our stereotypes about women, one might wonder why these stereotypes exist in the first place, and uncover the SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 PAGE 23 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY vast conspiracy that is patriarchal ideology. Having lacked the prerequisite social skills to gain access to that counterdata, Rodger likely remained oblivious to the falsity of the patriarchy's gender-essentializing narratives for his entire life. Lacking social skills, however, does not make one completely socially oblivious. Rodger clearly learned much of what the patriarchy wanted him to learn. He learned that women are shallow and want boyfriends who emit status, so he drove a fancy car and lamented his Asian ethnicity, an indication that Rodger is aware of the racism towards Asian males in dating culture.8 He learned that he was entitled to sexual attention and affection from women, and aside from being Asian or perhaps not having enough status, he was probably very confused about why that did not happen. Rodger was so over-reliant on patriarchal narratives that he failed to notice its normative subtext. As Manne points out, the patriarchy does not merely assert of women that they are nurturing, or feminine, and so on. Patriarchal ideology is a value system. It asserts of women that they should exhibit these traits, and employs a wide range of social mechanisms from himpathy to gaslighting to achieve this goal. Brock Turner demonstrated a more sophisticated understanding of the normative subtext of patriarchal ideology. Turner understood that the patriarchy exists because men like him perform actions to maintain it. Turner maintained the patriarchy by acting in accordance with the notion that women's bodies were his for the taking. He then effectively mobilized his privilege as a Golden Boy to sway the judge to grant him leniency. This option was not available to Elliot Rodger for a few reasons. One is that nobody told him that patriarchal-compliant women aren't born; they are made. Another is that even if he understood this, Rodger was not socially competent enough to manipulate people, as Turner could. A third is that Rodger lacked the communal support that is required in order to pull this off. Such privileges are reserved for Golden Boys who can recruit other patriarchs to side with them over the women they abuse, not for loner creeps. I raise these points not to muster any sympathy for Rodger, but to demonstrate the ways in which Rodger was incapable of fully understanding and following the rules that governed his social environment. Of course, Rodger did eventually realize that he was hopelessly mistaken about how all of this works. Because in true autistic fashion, when Rodger's reality did not match his expectations, he had a massive meltdown. His meltdown was the Isla Vista Killings. We can see now that when Ferguson claims that "Misogyny didn't turn Roger into a killer. . . . Had he not been so focused on his own sexual inadequacies, his focus might simply have moved to mall-goers rather than sorority sisters." Ferguson is exactly wrong. Mall-goers do not represent a moral good that society told Rodger he was entitled to, but which Rodger lacked the performative ability to pursue. Mall-goers do not represent a gateway to the social acceptance and social respect that Rodger was so desperate to have. Most of all, Rodger was not inundated with false narratives about what mall-goers are essentially like, who they value, and how to pursue their attention and affections as he was when it came to women. If Ferguson truly sympathized with Rodger at all in virtue of his autism, as opposed to his maleness, Ferguson would have concluded with the feminists of the #YesAllWomen campaign that the conspiratorial nature of the patriarchy was Rodger's problem. Rodger would have benefited immensely from reading Manne's book, which dismantles this conspiracy in plain language. Rodger never got the chance to learn that the patriarchy is a lie, a story we tell young girls and boys to cajole them into fitting neatly into our social boxes. Fortunately, other autistic people are discovering this. Preliminary research suggests that autistic people are more likely than non-autistic people to experience atypical gender presentations, have non- standard sexual orientations, and exhibit androgynous personality traits.9 This research is somewhat hampered by the fact that autistic women were denied recognition by the male-centric diagnostic criteria for autism until recently, but that gap is rapidly narrowing as more information about autistic women becomes available.10 The upshot of all this is that society is getting better for autistic people as we gradually detach from the narrow confinements of patriarchal gender roles and expectations, and as alternative lifestyles become more acceptable. My hope is that by dismantling the social constructions that feel so alien to autistic people, we can more easily direct them to communities with more transparent and less contrived performative standards so that all of us may avoid the fate that became of Elliot Rodger. NOTES 1. Manne, Down Girl, 34-35. 2. Ibid., 37. 3. Ibid., 23, 196. 4. Ibid., 37. 5. Markam and Markam, "The Intense World Theory." 6. Heasman and Gillespie, "Perspective-taking Is Two-sided." 7. Pelphrey, Morris, and McCarthy, "Neural Basis of Eye Gaze Processing Deficits in Autism." 8. Manne, Down Girl, 36, 40. 9. Bejerot and Eriksson, "Sexuality and Gender Role in Autism Spectrum Disorder." 10. Bargiela, Steward, and Mandy, "The Experiences of Latediagnosed Women with Autism Spectrum Conditions." REFERENCES Bargiela, S., R. Steward, and W. Mandy. "The Experiences of Latediagnosed Women with Autism Spectrum Conditions: An Investigation of the Female Autism Phenotype."Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders 46, no. 10 (2016): 3281–94. Bejerot, S., and J. M. Eriksson. "Sexuality and Gender Role in Autism Spectrum Disorder: A Case Control Study." PloS one 9, no. 1 (2014): e87961. https://doi.org/doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0087961. Heasman, B., and A. Gillespie. "Perspective-taking Is Two-sided: Misunderstandings Between People with Asperger's Syndrome and Their Family Members." Autism 22, no. 6 (2018): 740–50. Available at https://doi.org/10.1177/1362361317708287. Manne, Kate. Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny. Oxford University Press, 2018. Markam, K., and H. Markam. "The Intense World Theory-Unifying Theory of the Neurobiology of Autism." Fronteirs in Human Neuroscience. (2010). Pelphrey, K. A., J. P. Morris, and G. McCarthy. "Neural Basis of Eye Gaze Processing Deficits in Autism." Brain 128 (2005): 1038–48. PAGE 24 SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY Response to Critics Kate Manne CORNELL UNIVERSITY In writing Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny, one of my dearest hopes was that my book-and my mistakes and omissions therein-would pave the way for rich conversations about the eponymous problem facing girls and women. I am delighted and honored that this hope has come to pass, in this forum among others. The present set of critical commentaries provides an embarrassment of riches to respond to, such that I can't and won't even try to do full justice to the substantive and methodological issues they raise for me as an author. Instead, I will use the occasion to try to clarify just a few of the central goals and ideas of Down Girl, in relation to each commentary. And I do so in a spirit of immense gratitude-to each of the authors, as well as Lauren Freeman, in her capacity as editor. ON THE MISOGYNY OF WHITE WOMEN I find much to agree with in Kathryn Norlock's brilliant analysis, drawing on my framework as well as Claudia Card's, of the phenomenon of white female misogynists. These are women who, bolstered and protected by their white privilege, routinely undermine and betray the interests of other girls and women.1 It will be a matter of some delicacy, both metaphysically and epistemologically, when an individual woman rises to the threshold where she can fairly be called a misogynist simpliciter, as opposed to someone who channels and perpetuates misogynistic social forces (as do virtually all of us to some extent, I believe). Nevertheless, there is nothing in my account that rules out this possibility, and I agree with Norlock that it is sometimes instantiated in reality. I myself have known white female misogynists, on my definition of the term-where, as Norlock notes, I hold that "the term 'misogynist' is best treated as a threshold concept, and also a comparative one, functioning as a kind of 'warning label,' which should be sparingly applied to people whose attitudes and actions are particularly and consistently misogynistic across myriad social contexts."2 Norlock rightly expounds on one common reason why we don't tend to count women as misogynists: the naïve conception of misogyny, which I argue against in Chapters 1 and 2 of Down Girl.3 But there are two additional reasons worth highlighting as to why people may hesitate to call individual women misogynists: one good (or, better, potentially sound), and one bad. Let me take these in reverse order. The bad (that is, unsound) reason why people may hesitate to call individual women misogynists is that they have trouble acknowledging the obvious truth that many victimizers and enablers of victimization are also victims themselves. Many people who are oppressed are also in turn oppressors. This obvious moral possibility can admittedly be a source of complexity and perplexity, when it comes to how to assign blame, how to treat these wronged wrongdoers, and how to speak in ways that eschew objectionably exonerating narratives, on the one hand, and a variant of victim-blaming, on the other-where we fail or refuse to acknowledge the wrongs suffered by morally compromised subjects. But these are problems that really exist: they should not be denied, nor avoided, nor minimized. They should be fully and freely acknowledged, despite the theoretical and practical quandaries that will sometimes thereby ensue. There is a better (that is, potentially sound, albeit highly defeasible) reason why one might hesitate to call women misogynists. The workings of what I call "himpathy"-the disproportionate or inappropriate sympathy sometimes extended to powerful men over girls and women- together with misogyny itself predicts that we will tend to police women's moral errors more vigorously than men's, all else being equal. (The "all else equal" clause here, as in most of my work, counsels us to hold fixed other relevant intersecting social factors, such as race, class, sexuality, being cis/trans, etc.4). So the prediction would be that, given a man and a woman of comparable intersecting social identities, we will tend to be quicker to blame her versus him for comparable moral perfidies, including their engagement in misogynistic actions and practices. We will tend to hold her to higher (i.e., double, as well as differential) standards on this score, among others. Such is the moralistic form which misogyny often takes. Or so I argue in Down Girl. (I don't pretend to have replicated, as opposed to merely reported, the upshot of my book-length argument to that conclusion.) If that is right, then we should be cautious about using the label "misogynist" for women, since we will often be prone to use it too quickly or too freely. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't do so at all. It just means that we should do so with an even greater dose of epistemic caution and humility than usual-epistemic virtues that I counsel when using this shaming label in general. That is, on my treatment, the word "misogynist" does have a use: but it is a limited one, subordinate to diagnosing misogyny as a property of social environments or systems as a whole. And, by the same token, we should be careful not to use the word "misogynist" to distance ourselves (the supposed, and hopefully genuinely, non-misogynists) in our particular social locations from the misogynistic actions and practices most of us do sometimes engage in, or are at least complicit in (wittingly or not). Here I speak as a white woman, and to other white women, in particular: we must not try to distinguish ourselves as one of the "good ones," at the expense of actually making things better. MISOGYNY AS BANKRUPT MORALITY SYSTEM Agnes Callard's rich commentary on Down Girl raises a fascinating set of issues, primarily regarding the "give"- "take" model of patriarchal social relations. She asks at one point whether this model is "unhelpfully hyperbolic." I would respond, no: it is helpfully hyperbolic. Let me elaborate. The "give"-"take" model should be understood not as descriptive of gender relations in allegedly post-patriarchal contexts such as the US today. Rather, it is prescriptive-and objectionably so. As I envisage it, the "give"-"take" model embodies a false, pernicious, and thoroughly moralized ideal, in which women are deemed obligated to give SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 PAGE 25 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY feminine-coded goods (primarily in the form of seamless social, emotional, reproductive, and sexual, services) to designated (typically, dominant) men, in ways that also reflect racist, heteronormative, cis-sexist, and other politically objectionable, assumptions.5 Men, on the other hand, are tacitly deemed entitled to take analogous goods from women, in the form of social, emotional, sexual, and reproductive, labor.6 I also hypothesized at various points that social-cum-moral norms that deem him obligated to give masculine-coded goods to her (in the form of chivalry, protection, and so-called "breadwinning" labor), have been somewhat eroded in my milieu, especially since the global financial collapse. But that was intended to be a local observation, based on anecdotal evidence, rather than central to my argument. To me, a helpful crystallization of the above, pernicious (since grossly unfair) division of social-cum-moral labor is Shel Silverstein's The Giving Tree (see Down Girl, conclusion, "The Giving She"). This still-popular children's story, written in 1962, is often taken to be a beautiful tale about a tree who loved a boy, "very, very much, even more than she loved herself." But I take it to be a cautionary one. The tree, referred to using the feminine pronoun, gives up everything she has for her beloved, son-like figure. He, "the boy," enjoys playing in her branches and lying in the shade she offers. She gives him her apples so that he can go off to the city to make his fortune. She gives him her boughs so that he can build a house for his family, and ultimately a boat, in which to have adventures. At last, he returns, now a wizened man (or, I think better, man-child), to the amputated stump he has made of her. She says sorry one final time (making it a total of eleven times throughout the story-and he never says a word by way of "thank you") for having nothing left to give him. He says that that is fine, since he wants only to rest: and he can rest comfortably on what remains of her body. He curls up on his she-stump to sleep. And that is where the story leaves them. There is a haunting line in the penultimate stanza of The Giving Tree: "And the tree was happy. But not really." This fleeting acknowledgement never gets expanded upon. It would indeed be an exaggeration to say that many male-female relationships (intimate, parental, familial, or otherwise) resemble the narrative in The Giving Tree. (Although cf. the lack of progress on Arlie Russell Hochschild's "second shift problem.") But my point was that this pernicious ideal may nevertheless harm such social relations, in more or less subtle ways, by presenting a false set of obligations and entitlements. As I take pains to clarify in the book's preface, many men who are privy to such entitlements will not take full advantage of them, partly for reasons of moral principle or conscience. And many women will not be amenable to norms of constant giving of the kind that eventually kill you. But there will be hazards in this direction. Or so I have argued. Callard asks what women get out of this arrangement. A first-pass answer on my account would be, freedom from the guilt, shame, resentment, blame, indignation, outrage, and the associated threats, policing, and myriad forms of punishment (including violence) that often attend violations of misogynistic law and order-whether from yourself (in the form of first-personal attitudes such as guilt and shame), a second party (in the form of secondpersonal attitudes such as resentment and blame), or a third party (in the form of third-personal "vicarious reactive attitudes," i.e., the indignation or outrage of others who are on his side, or channeling himpathy).7 For these will often be the predictable result, if you fail to give him all you are deemed to owe him, as a woman with respect to a dominant, designated male figure. A second word about himpathy is in order here. Callard offers an interesting thought experiment in her response to Down Girl, designed (I take it) to make it intelligible that men might fear and hate women because they are in some sense at her mercy with respect to her procreative labor, in the era in which contraception is at least nominally quite widely available. I would only point out that, when it comes to so-called unassisted reproduction, women are just as much at the mercy of men, who may choose to opt out of biological fatherhood, thanks partly to the advent of new technologies (e.g., a man may get a vasectomy). Yet, at least for my own part, I have never heard of a woman who develops a sweeping resentment of "men these days," or rails against the availability of this elective procedure, or anything of the sort. The asymmetry in reaction, despite the basic symmetry in the structure of the social and technological situation, points to a systemic culture of assumed obligation on her part, and assumed entitlement on his part, when it comes to women's procreative services. But there is no such obligation, on the one hand, or entitlement, on the other. This is a substantive normative claim. But I believe it is a true one. A final, related point: suppose, with Callard, that women's procreative choices do represent an existential threat to men in her fairly abstract sense (one that depends on a controversial argument about both the importance of future generations existing to the value of one's current projects, and which seems to place an extra emphasis on those future generations including one's own biological offspring). Nevertheless, (some) men clearly and currently represent an existential threat to (many) women: they want to, or do, annihilate us. Again, the asymmetry in terms of the subsequent social fallout is telling, and bears sober reflection in this context. ON FEMINIST INCOMPLETENESS Briana Toole's insightful commentary on my book raises a variety of issues concerning boys and men, which Toole argues could productively be addressed by feminists for the sake of promoting justice and improving the social world in general. I agree with Toole completely that this is an important and legitimate goal that some feminists can and should pursue. However, my own methodology in writing Down Girl, and in my subsequent work to date, has been to focus somewhat relentlessly on the plight of girls and women. This is obviously an incomplete perspective. However, I also think it is a legitimate and useful one. Part of my impetus for writing Down Girl was a set of fears and related self-criticisms. Evidence suggests that many if PAGE 26 SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY not most of us are heavily biased in favor of boys and young men in the classroom, inter alia, notwithstanding explicitly egalitarian beliefs (see Down Girl, conclusion). So, when I began teaching as a professor, in 2013, I was acutely aware that I would tend to look to boys and young men for answers, and call on them more often, if I was anything like the average person. And I don't consider myself above the moral average, except by dint of strenuous moral effort. I could also observe some such patterns of biased moral attention on my own part directly. For example, despite my longstanding feminist views about the ills of sexual assault and harassment, I noticed myself feeling sorry for a male perpetrator over his female victims (or likely victims) far too often. This is one reason why I often call myself a recovering himpath. With that in mind, after the Isla Vista killings, and the subsequent himpathetic and victim-erasing reactions in the media, I chose to restrict my intellectual focus to girls and women facing misogyny, in order to see what happened. What happened was Down Girl. And instead of striving for completeness, I chose to fully embrace the partiality of my own concerns and perspective. For, my sense is that, if some of us don't focus more or less exclusively on girls and women, then their distinctive concerns will tend to get lost (or written off) all too quickly, all too often. For himpathy will tend to shift us back to a "What about the men?" mindset. That being said, I am perfectly friendly to other theorists, Toole and Digby included, looking at various ways patriarchy hurts men. (Although I prefer to say, with bell hooks, that patriarchy typically harms men without thereby oppressing them qua men-though of course many men are oppressed along other axes of their social positions, e.g., in view of the workings of white supremacy, ableism, homophobia, transphobia, classism, and ageism, for example). Partial perspectives require complementary lines of inquiry. One slight caveat is that I think we should be careful of broad generalizations that boys and men are policed, lest we run afoul of empirical evidence that is pertinent to Toole's discussion. For example, a recent meta-analysis showed very few differences between boys and girls on average, when it comes to displaying emotions.8 The main statistical difference that emerged had to do with the type of negative emotions that were exhibited, quite late in maturation: adolescent boys expressed more anger, whereas adolescent girls expressed more contempt. These descriptive findings admittedly leave room for the possibility that there is a social norm that polices the emotions of boys and men, tacitly disallowing them from doing so. But it must not be a very potent social norm: for boys do cry, seemingly, roughly as much as girls. Yet the idea that we have deeply pernicious double standards that discourage male versus female displays of emotions is entrenched and persistent. The evidence I've just cited casts doubt on its veracity. No doubt (based on anecdotal evidence) boys and men do sometimes face negative social consequences for displaying their emotions. But we should not forget that so do girls and women, albeit in potentially different ways, or for somewhat different reasons. Moreover, the idea that boys and men face disproportionate barriers to emotional openness could, in theory, be at least partly a product of himpathy. Similarly with the idea that boys and men are more stoic, when it comes to pain. This idea could-again, in theory- be partly or primarily a product of our tendency to take his pain more seriously than hers, all else being equal. (I discuss this tendency in detail in my book in progress, Entitled.) The result would be that we assume that, if he does manifest pain behavior, he must be in much more serious pain than we would tend to ascribe to a female counterpart (holding fixed race, class, and age, along with other intersecting social factors). I do not know if these hypotheses hold true. But they are well worth considering- lest we overestimate the specifically patriarchal policing forces to which boys and men are supposedly subject, thanks partly to himpathy's operation. SPEAKING OF ATTITUDES In her astute commentary, Ishani Maitra rightly points out that my analysis of misogyny ends up being quite broad- at least in the sense that it refers to a wide and superficially disparate set of phenomena.9 At the same time, Maitra notes, my account aims to retain the hostile, nasty flavor of misogyny which I believe reflects a feature of current usage patterns (whether feminist or not). This makes for a delicate balancing act on my account: how to do justice to the supposedly hostile quality of misogyny, as well as the negative reactive attitudes that it paradigmatically (though not necessarily) involves, without falling into an excessively psychologistic and individualistic account. Let me take these two challenges in order. In response to the natural worry that my account is liable to become excessively psychologistic in its emphasis on negative reactive attitudes, I would point to the social nature of the attitudes I have in mind. In Chapter 2, I argue that we can construe reactive attitudes to focus more on the (socially) reactive part and less on the attitude. (Cf. the useful question, "What's with the attitude?") Instead of asking what feelings lurk deep down in an individual's heart, say, we ask what their actions manifest to a reasonable woman faced with their behavior. This response to the worry about reintroducing psychologism paves the way for a response to the worry that my account is liable to again become too individualistic. For when it comes to the hostile and punitive reactions women face, I hold that these can be manifested by institutions and social practices, as well as individual agents. My main example of this in Down Girl is the anti-abortion practices and policies of the GOP currently. But I share Maitra's criticism of my book that it would have been good to discuss more shaming, guilting, and punitive social practices which are faced by large swathes of girls and women who are perceived as, or representative of, gendered norm-violators.10 Maitra also raises an important criticism of my critique of humanism: that we might understand dehumanization in SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 PAGE 27 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY a more ameliorative, and rather less literal-minded, vein. I completely agree with Maitra that we could go in this direction. But, as with all ameliorative projects, we should ask: Cui bono? A confessional note: although my chapter on humanism, "Humanizing Hatred," was the best I could do at the time, I believe in retrospect that I rather missed the mark in it. The discussion contains a fair amount of false precision, inasmuch as I spend a great deal of time clarifying my stalking horse, in the form of a set of central commitments which I attributed to humanists.11 This is a classic philosopher's error. What I believe, and now think I should have just come out and said, is that there is a rhetoric and associated ideology of humanism which is deeply politically problematic. It serves to bolster exonerating narratives, by suggesting that racism as well as misogyny can be attributed to a kind of cognitive, quasi-visual error. If they only saw us as human beings, somehow, they could not fail to treat us properly. Or, at the very least, they would be highly unlikely to do so. I would hereby like to (politely) call bullshit on this hopeful thought: the idea that a kind of experiential flash, akin to gaining or regaining sight, would go a long way to solve the problem of misogyny, inter alia. And the visual metaphor here is telling, I think: and not in a good way. It analogizes bigotry to blindness. And it assumes blindness is inevitably a problem-which it need not be, given adequate material, social, and institutional resources. ON DEHUMANIZATION: A DISTINCTION With that in mind, I find much to admire and little to disagree with in Audrey Yap's subtle commentary on Down Girl, which focuses in the main on my chapter on humanism. Yap raises the possibility that we can remain neutral or even be skeptical about the role rehumanization plays in preventing atrocities,12 while recognizing the important role of dehumanization in the etiology of some such. Yap rightly points out that the mass rape of girls and women is sometimes intended primarily as an attack on the men who are perceived as "owning" the girls and women who are, of course, its primarily victims. However, I would just point out an ambiguity in understanding the notion of dehumanization as it pertains to this possibility. We might understand dehumanization descriptively, i.e., as encompassing psychological states and/or cultural products that represent certain classes of persons as sub- human creatures, non-human animals, inanimate objects, or (perhaps) super-natural beings. Alternatively, we might understand dehumanization normatively, i.e., as pertaining to individual beliefs, value judgments, and broader cultural ideologies which assert or imply that certain classes of persons ought to be treated as sub-human creatures, non- human animals, inanimate objects, or (again, perhaps) super-natural beings. You might think that the latter would require the former as backing or justification. But part of my point in Down Girl is that this is fundamentally incorrect, and paints bigotry with too broad, as well as rather too polite, a brush. However, if dehumanization is understood normatively in the above sense, then I agree that misogyny does have certain dehumanizing components on occasion (though I would emphasize that this far from exhausts its nature). In particular, girls and women are often treated as designated men's property, in the normative sense that he is (falsely and perniciously) tacitly deemed to be entitled to her sexual, emotional, reproductive, and material labor. (It is for this reason that attempting to attack such a man can take the form of "plundering" or "sullying" a woman deemed to be his, e.g., by raping her.) On the flipside, women are tacitly deemed to be obligated to give him these goods and services. It is this distinctively moralistic underpinning to which I trace a good deal (though not necessarily all) of misogyny. It is morally rotten. It may be descriptively hollow, inasmuch as it is founded on bad, tendentious science and the associated sexist ideology that depicts women as loving, giving human beings, who are "naturally" oriented to serving designated male figures (and his children). Or it may be descriptively empty, and all the more desperate and dangerous because of that.13 Either way, I think it is apt to say that misogyny often involves girls and women being treated as human, all too human, givers-rather than human beings. As I wrote in Down Girl, she is not allowed to be in the same way as he is. I would now add: she is not allowed to be in pain. She is not allowed to move through the world freely-or be still within it, for that matter-with others of her choosing, or alone. She is liable to be hassled, heckled, blocked, wrongfooted, and taken down, at practically every turn. Her humanity is not typically in dispute, descriptively speaking. But that does not mean it will be respected-particularly if she veers from the narrow path laid out for her, or discovers that it demands she be in two places at once. It often will. ON MISOGYNY AND AUTISM I am particularly grateful to have the benefit of Elle Benjamin's valuable perspective here, since the intersection of misogyny with ableism in general and anti-autism bias in particular is manifestly lacking in my book. (By design, since I don't take myself to have an epistemically appropriate standpoint from which to speak here.) I also find her account of the socially clueless sense of entitlement evinced by Elliot Rodger, in contrast to the "Golden Boy" Brock Turner, compelling (and non-himpathetic, for the record). I also find much to agree with in her general remarks on autism in relation to misogyny-especially Benjamin's important observation that neuroatypicality in girls and women has long gone comparatively underdiagnosed, and still tends to attract less by way of moral attention and material resources. However, I do worry somewhat about ascribing neuroatypicality to Rodger. Reports of his having been diagnosed with any kind of autism are, to the best of my knowledge, conflicting. It is true that a CNN story reported a family friend's attribution of an autism-spectrum condition to Rodger; but subsequent reports said that the family friend had been mistaken. According to a comprehensive police report about the Isla Vista shootings, Rodger was diagnosed with "Pervasive Development Disorder–Not Otherwise Specified (PDD-NOS)" in 2007 (a diagnosis PAGE 28 SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY removed from the DSM-5). Subsequent testing in early adulthood put him below the cut-off for autism or autismspectrum conditions.14 Indeed, despite Rodger's having had fairly extensive mental health treatment, there is a paucity of clinical labels that were confidently and consistently applied to him. Of course, philosophers deal in hypotheticals all the time, and so the easy thing for me to say here is that, if Rodger was in fact neuroatypical, then all of Benjamin's suggestions and conclusions stand. I would only add one, hopefully friendly, addendum. Benjamin writes: Because in true autistic fashion, when Rodger's reality did not match his expectations, he had a massive meltdown. His meltdown was the Isla Vista Killings. There is some risk that this line could be misinterpreted to imply (falsely, I take it) that autistic people are more likely to commit mass killings or other acts of violence, as opposed to having non-violent "meltdowns," due to overstimulation, sensory overload, etc., of the kind Benjamin theorizes in her commentary. Benjamin goes on to conclude: Rodger never got the chance to learn that the patriarchy is a lie; a story we tell young girls and boys to cajole them into fitting neatly into our social boxes. . . . [S]ociety is getting better for autistic people as we gradually detach from the narrow confinements of patriarchal gender roles and expectations, and as alternative lifestyles become more acceptable. My hope is that by dismantling the social constructions that feel so alien to autistic people, we can more easily direct them to communities with more transparent and less contrived performative standards, so that all of us may avoid the fate that became of Elliot Rodger. I think it may be worth adding here that girls and women (autistic or no) do not, to the best of my knowledge, run any significant risk of becoming an Elliot Rodger: that is, a mass killer, animated by a false sense of aggrieved entitlement, and toxic masculine delusions reflective of patriarchal social structures. These structures are historical relics, which nonetheless cast a long moral shadow. Bring on the dismantling. NOTES 1. One small point of potential disagreement with Norlock: although I am prepared to accept that female Trump supporters weren't explicitly or simply pressured by their Trump-voting husbands into voting for him, I do propose a subtler dependence mechanism (via himpathy, inter alia) in Down Girl's final chapter, drawing on work by Kimberlé W. Crenshaw and Sumi Cho on the aftermath of the 2016 election. See Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny (Oxford University Press: New York, 2018), 265–66. 2. So, "on this view, individual agents count as misogynists if and only if their misogynistic attitudes and/or actions are significantly (a) more extreme, and (b) more consistent than most other people in the relevant comparison class (e.g., other people of the same gender, and perhaps race, class, age, etc., in similar social environments)." Down Girl, 66. 3. A brief précis: "On [the] "naïve conception," as I call it, misogyny is primarily a property of individual misogynists who are prone to hate women qua women, that is, because of their gender, either universally or at least very generally. On this view, agents may also be required to harbor this hatred in their hearts as a matter of "deep" or ultimate psychological explanation if they are to count as bona fide misogynists. Misogyny is as misogynists are, then. And misogynists are agents who fit a certain psychological profile." Whereas, "according to the positive proposal about misogyny I go on to develop . . . we should instead understand misogyny as primarily a property of social environments in which women are liable to encounter hostility due to the enforcement and policing of patriarchal norms and expectations-often, though not exclusively, insofar as they violate patriarchal law and order. Misogyny hence functions to enforce and police women's subordination and to uphold male dominance, against the backdrop of other intersecting systems of oppression and vulnerability, dominance and disadvantage, as well as disparate material resources, enabling and constraining social structures, institutions, bureaucratic mechanisms, and so on." Down Girl, 18- 19. I go on to offer precise definitions in Chapter 2. 4. To anticipate one of the epistemological worries for my account which Maitra brings up, I don't believe that my account will counsel us to focus unduly on white women as the target and victims of misogyny. All cases need intersectional analyses, including in taking into account the way white women are the beneficiaries of various kinds of unjust privilege, and their supposed plight used as the basis for opportunistic racism against Black men, for example. Moreover, in analyzing misogynoir, I advocate comparing the plight of Black women to their Black male counterparts, which reveals what I call the "hostile indifference" of white liberals, to, e.g., the systemic eviction of Black women, as compared with a moderately raised consciousness about mass incarceration (conceived of as a problem for Black men rather than women-even though the latter are in fact incarcerated at grossly disproportionate rates, as compared with white female counterparts). See Down Girl, 64–66, as well as "Misogynoir in Action: The Case of Daniel Holtzclaw," 209–19, inter alia. 5. I write in Chapter Four, "Taking His (Out"), when I turn from the abstract constitutive logic to the substantive workings of misogyny: "[I]f patriarchy is anything here and now, that is, in cultures such as the United States, the United Kingdom, and Australia, I believe it consists largely (though by no means exclusively) in this uneven, gendered economy of giving and taking moral-cum-social goods and services. Consider then that the flipside of an entitlement is, in general, an obligation: something he's owed by someone. So, if a man does indeed have this illicit sense of entitlement vis-à-vis women, he will be prone to hold women to false or spurious obligations. And he may also be prone to regard a woman's asking for the sorts of goods she's supposed to provide him with as an outrage, or a disgrace. This would be analogous to the waitress (from chapter 1) asking for service from her customer, after having failed to take his order. Not only is it a role reversal, but it's likely to prompt a "who does she think she is?" kind of sentiment: at first resentful, then scandalized, if she doesn't respond to feedback by looking duly chastened and "lifting her game," so to speak. There's something especially vexing about someone who is shameless not only in shirking their duties, but who appears blithe and unapologetic when they effectively turn the tables. They're not only failing to do their job; they're demanding that others return the non-favor-or asking them to do their job for them. They're feckless, careless, irresponsible, and so on." Down Girl, 107. 6. Callard draws a distinction between a political and economic model of misogyny that I believe ends up being ill-drawn on my construal, since I hold that many of the goods and services women are held to be obligated to supply draw irrevocably on her agency. See Down Girl, chapter 4, "Taking His (Out)." 7. I draw here on P. F. Strawson's famous discussion of the reactive attitudes ([1962] 2008), including first-personal and third-personal, as well as second-personal ones. "Freedom and Resentment," Proceedings of the British Academy 48: 1–25. 8. Tara M. Chaplin and Amelia Aldao, "Gender Differences in Emotion Expression in Children: A Meta-Analytic Review," Psychological Bulletin: 139, no. 4 (July 2013): 735–65. They write, in opening: "In western popular culture, it is widely held that there are gender differences in children's emotion expressions. Sayings such as "boys don't cry" and "sugar and spice and SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 PAGE 29 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY everything nice-that's what little girls are made of" reflect cultural beliefs and expectations that girls show cheeriness or sadness whereas boys are strong and calm, showing anger if necessary. These beliefs are reflected in studies that ask adults and children about their expectations about the emotional expressiveness of females and males and to some extent in studies that ask individuals about themselves. Observations of emotional expression are less commonly conducted; and when they are, the observed emotions do not always show such consistent gender differences, raising the question of the nature and extent of gender differences in emotion expression." 9. Maitra notes my example of gender-biased teaching evaluations in the sections "Comparative Gender Biases," and "Faking It," Chapter 8, Down Girl, 250–56 and 273–78 (respectively). I will take the opportunity here to briefly clarify that only some forms of such bias would count as misogyny on my account: primarily the ones that reflect a differentially or disproportionately hostile attitude toward female professors who are felt to be violating feminine-coded norms of providing social and emotional labor, "personal" attention to each individual student, etc. 10. In discussion at the author-meets-critics session on Down Girl at the Eastern APA in January 2019, Maureen Eckert offered another excellent and complementary example of institutional misogyny: homes for unwed mothers, which both channeled and perpetuated the shame and stigma of such pregnancies. 11. See the section of Chapter 5, "Clarifying Humanism," in Down Girl, 141–46. 12. This is my quick gloss of what Yap calls the "positive humanist proposal," according to which we should focus primarily on ["making] others' humanity more visible in the face of their marginalization or vulnerability," as opposed to fighting bigotry and prejudice in other (and, I would add, many and various- including structural) ways. 13. See Chapter 3, on the relationship between sexism and misogyny, and what happens when misogyny and sexism part company. 14. "The suspect's mental health records were obtained via Federal Grand Jury subpoenas served by the FBI. Materials were also seized pursuant to a search warrant, authorized by Santa Barbara Superior Court Judge Jean Dandona, served at [his mother] Chin Rodger's residence. It should be noted that the material is sometimes conflicting. On several occasions, the suspect was mentioned as having been diagnosed with Asperger's. However, no formal diagnosis was found amongst the material reviewed by detectives." Isla Vista Investigative Summary Report by Santa Barbara County Sheriff's Department, 155. BOOK REVIEWS Rape and Resistance Linda Martín Alcoff (New York: Polity 2018). 264 pp. $69.95. ISBN: 978-0-745-69191-6. Reviewed by Charlotte Witt UNIVERSITY OF NEW HAMPSHIRE, CHARLOTTE.WITT@UNH.EDU Rape and Resistance is a very timely and important book. It enters a public conversation about sexual assault centered on the "Me Too" movement, recent charges of racism and colonialism in the media, treatment of figures like author Junot Díaz (both a victim of sexual assault and a perpetrator of sexual harassment), and a reassessment of the harms of rape and sexual assault in the context of an emerging vision of sexual agency. Consequently, this is a book with much to offer readers; it is rich with themes and ideas that extend far beyond the narrow confines of the traditional topics of consent, rape, and harm. In addition, Alcoff's discussion is methodologically complex, using first-person accounts (including her own), social scientific information, literary accounts, and philosophical reflection to develop her narrative. Throughout the volume, Alcoff reflects on the epistemological issues raised by her methodology, especially the problem of testimonial injustice that faces survivors' speech. In what follows, I will touch upon several themes in the book that I found most interesting and thought-provoking without pretending to do justice to the volume as a whole. In the Introduction, titled "Rape after Foucault," Alcoff sets the goal of "complexifying" our understanding of rape and sexual assault to include all the myriad ways in which there can be "a violation of sexual agency, of subjectivity, of our will" (12). That is the fundamental harm of sexual violation. Alcoff turns to Foucault at several points as a resource for framing her discussion of these broad conceptual issues and, in doing so, also demonstrates the inadequacy of analyses that turn on the legalistic notion of consent. The notion of consent is too impoverished to be helpful in addressing the full range of issues on the table, and, in addition, it presupposes a heteronormative sexual (and sexist) ideology. In contrast, Foucault's complex views on sexual agency provide a richer resource to capture a view of sexual agency that acknowledges the workings of relations of power without entirely abandoning the possibility of change and creativity. Alcoff notes that "[t]echnologies of the self are techniques not of normalization but of expansive self-making" (88). For Alcoff, Foucault's notion of sexual self-fashioning is useful in envisioning what genuine sexual agency and subjectivity might look like. Although Alcoff finds potential for thinking about sexual agency in Foucault's aesthetic idea of cultivating an art of the sexual self, she also makes the case for an investigation of sexual norms that "remains attentive to the feedback loops of discourse and the multiple ways in which it might be aligned with power . . ." (108). In other words, and despite appearances to the contrary, Alcoff argues that the Foucauldian anti-naturalist and anti-normative perspective on sexual practices can-in fact-be harnessed in the service of a normative critique of rape and sexual violation. I have radically compressed Alcoff's nuanced interpretation of Foucault here in order to highlight a possible tension in her pairing the notion of aesthetic self-fashioning with the possibility of a normative critique of the sexual pleasures that might be involved in that liberatory self-creation. A second important theme is Alcoff's global focus. Rape and Resistance opens by noting a growing public consciousness about the issue of rape and sexual violence internationally, especially concerning the phenomenon of rape as an instrument of war in the former Yugoslavia and many other locales undergoing conflict. Although Alcoff's book is a virtual compendium of important philosophers and theories, it is striking that she does not mention Catherine MacKinnon's important-though controversial-theoretical and legal work in bringing the topic of wartime rape as a form of genocide and as an instrument of war in the Balkans to the world's attention. Alcoff cautions that thinking about rape from an international perspective is both required and an invitation to a false and too easy universalism that does not recognize local conditions, local power structures, and local meanings. How is it possible to both respect the complexity of power and meaning surrounding sexuality and sexual practices in a particular culture while at the PAGE 30 SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY same time engaging in normative critique? In a chapter titled "Decolonizing Meanings," Alcoff addresses these complex challenges of interpretation with a fascinating comparative discussion of the respective roles (and limitations) of the concepts of honor and consent in the discursive construction of sexual crimes. The role of honor and the idea of honor crimes points to the centrality of the family and the community in some social contexts, whereas the notion of consent focuses instead on the individual in a legal context. Moreover, these concepts are threads in a web of meaning and power; they can only be properly understood in their concrete social contexts. Given the profound discursive differences anchored by the notion of honor or of consent, is there anything universal or common to be said about rape and sexual assault? Alcoff responds cautiously, yet affirmatively: "Different concepts are useful in different societies for making sense of violence, as well as justifying crimes, mitigating sentences and blaming victims. But these differences at the discursive level coexist with some apparent universals, such as the existence of extra-individual effects and the effects of violence on the subjectivity of the individual" (167). Her detailed discussion of the challenges of truly wrestling with political, cultural, and semantic differences around rape and sexual assault is impressive. Finally, the theme of intersectionality runs through Rape and Resistance as a core epistemic principle and policy guideline. It links Alcoff's insistence on a global focus that avoids simplistic universality to her rejection of binaries of east and west, victim and perpetrator, woman and man. She reminds us of the ways in which racialized identities make a difference because of the way in which the charge of sexual assault was used as a weapon against black men on behalf of white women and white supremacy. This deplorable history is reiterated today in the racist use of sexual assault hysteria surrounding immigrant and migrant populations in Europe and the US. There are many relevant histories of rape and sexual assault once we adopt an intersectional perspective. In the book's closing section, "A Question of Love," Alcoff refers to the Dominican-American writer Junot Díaz whose novels center the effects of colonial domination on sexual relations that feature pervasive sexual assault and sexism, and the idea that the damage flows outward in many directions including generationally. In an uncanny recapitulation of many of the themes of Alcoff's book, Díaz stands as both a victim and perpetrator, both a product of colonialism and its ills, and a creator of new lives and possibilities. Still, there is a lingering question of responsibility that underlies the necessary sophistication and complexity of an intersectional analysis of human behavior. And, in the same vein, we might wonder about the possibility of apology, repentance, and appropriate forgiveness. In a recent New York Times column on an open letter she signed deploring the media treatment of Díaz, Alcoff puts the questions like this: Can we hold people to account at the same time as we acknowledge their own victimization? Can we remain aware of multiple forms of oppression in our analysis? Can we demand more of a structural and systemic analysis without reducing individual responsibility? Can we respect the rage we are hearing as well as plan for a different future? I believe we must.1 Rape and Responsibility makes a strong case for a global, intersectional approach to the issues of rape and sexual assault. The argument is detailed, subtle, and persuasive. In addition, the book develops the concept of sexual selffashioning as a valuable form of sexual agency, and this is an attractive expansion beyond the limits of sexual consent. But there remains a tension between the concept of a free and creative sexual agency and the idea that there are important social norms that restrain that agency and ought to do so. There is more work to be done. NOTES 1. Open Letter Against Media Treatment of Junot Díaz, The Chronicle of Higher Education, May 14, 2018. Available at https:// www.chronicle.com/blogs/letters/open-letter-against-media- treatment-of-junot-diaz/. Blackwell's A Companion to Simone de Beauvoir Edited by Laura Hengehold and Nancy Bauer. Hoboken, NJ: Wiley-Blackwell, 2017. 552 pages. $195. ISBN: 978-1-118- 79602-3. Reviewed by Céline Leboeuf FLORIDA INTERNATIONAL UNIVERSITY In its earliest phases, notably in the 1990s, studies of Simone de Beauvoir focused on making the case that she was a philosopher in her own right and that her theoretical works were not derivative of Jean-Paul Sartre's. If anything, Laura Hengehold and Nancy Bauer's (eds.) A Companion to Simone de Beauvoir firmly rests this case. The thorough engagement with and critiques of Beauvoir's philosophy in this collection establish her on the same footing as thinkers more readily recognized as part of the canon, including, but not limited, to Sartre. At 552 pages in length, the Companion is not only a monumental work and the longest collection published on Beauvoir to date, but it is also the first in Blackwell's series of companions to be dedicated to a woman philosopher. It is composed of forty essays and divided into four parts: "Re-reading The Second Sex," "Beauvoir's Intellectual Engagements," "Beyond The Second Sex," and "Beauvoir and Contemporary Feminism." "Re-reading The Second Sex" considers the reception of Beauvoir and central themes in the work. The themes covered-the body (Ruth Groenhout and Emily Anne Parker), childhood and narcissism (Emily Zakin), sexuality (Mary Beth Mader), motherhood (Alison Stone, Nancy Bauer, and Sara Cohen Shabot), love (Tove Pettersen), and the woman as Other (Tanella Boni)-are likely to be familiar to Anglophone readers of The Second Sex. By contrast, discussions of Beauvoir's intellectual context and reception might be less SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 PAGE 31 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY well known and are of particular interest. For instance, Sandra Reineke's "The Intellectual and Social Context of The Second Sex" allows us to understand the socio-cultural background to Beauvoir's masterwork. Complementing this essay is Ingrid Galster's "'The limits of the Abject.' The Reception of Le Deuxième Sexe in 1949," which plunges us into the scandal caused by the publication of The Second Sex as well as the violent critiques-both from the Right and the Left-of her work. Three essays orient us to more recent discussions of Beauvoir. First, Stella Sanford's "Beauvoir's Transdiciplinarity: From Philosophy to Gender Theory" examines the ways in which Beauvoir launched the field of feminist philosophy and neighboring academic disciplines. Second, Kathryn Gines's "Simone de Beauvoir and the Race/ Gender Analogy in The Second Sex Revisited" revisits and critiques the erasure of Black women's experiences in The Second Sex, but brings newer considerations to the table, by highlighting the limits to the resources that Beauvoir had to understand race and by analyzing Black feminist readings of Beauvoir. Third, Emily Grosholz's "Two English Translations of Simone de Beauvoir's The Second Sex" begins by appraising the original translation of The Second Sex by H. M. Parshley from 1953, which has been subjected to attacks by Beauvoir scholars for the cuts it makes and for the obscuration of key philosophical concepts in the text, such as Mitsein and the distinction between the for-itself and the in-itself. Grosholz then offers a fair assessment of the new translation by Constance Borde and Sheila Mallovany-Chevallier, first published in 2009, defending it against certain criticisms voiced by Beauvoir scholars. "Beauvoir's Intellectual Engagements" develops six comparative essays: two on Beauvoir and Hegel (Kimberly Hutchings and Zeynep Direk), two on Beauvoir and MerleauPonty (Jennifer McWeeny and William Wilkerson), one on Marxism (Sonia Kruks), one on Structuralism (Eva Bahovec), and one on the debate over the influence between Beauvoir and Sartre (Christine Daigle). The discussions of Beauvoir's debt to Marxism and her relation to Structuralism are especially interesting, because they lend a fresh perspective on her philosophical heritage, examinations of which have typically dealt with her appropriation of Hegel's masterslave dialectic in The Second Sex, the question of influence between her and Sartre, and the phenomenological roots of her thinking via Husserl, Heidegger, and Merleau-Ponty. "Beyond The Second Sex" takes the reader through Beauvoir's ethical and political philosophy (Kristana Arp, Laura Hengehold, Debra Bergoffen, Patricia Hill Collins), her fiction (Meryl Altman, Anne van Leeuwen, Shannon Mussett, Sally Scholz), her memoirs (Margaret Simons ad Ursula Tidd), her philosophy of history (Michel Kail), her travel writings (William McBride), and her less well-known tome Old Age (Penelope Deutscher). Several of the essays in this section tread unfamiliar territory by taking readers through relatively underexplored theoretical essays by Beauvoir, such as "Pyrrhus and Cineas," "An Eye for an Eye," and Old Age. Of special note, though, is William McBride's "The Postwar World According to Beauvoir," which contrasts America Day by Day, Beauvoir's narrative of her first trip to the United States in 1947 and the critiques of American culture spurred by this voyage, and The Long March, a rarely read work by Beauvoir on China inspired by her visit to the country in 1955. McBride aims not only to reconstruct the perspective a French intellectual would have had on today's rival nations in the 1950s, but also to trace the differences between the American and English translations of America Day by Day, revealing how parts of her criticisms of racism in the United States were concealed from American audiences. "Beauvoir and Contemporary Feminism" caps the volume with contributions on race (Shannon Sullivan), transmasculine embodiment (A. Alexander Antonopoulos), Beauvoir's multiple legacies to French feminism (Karen Vintges and Diane Perpich), as well as the challenges and innovations involved in translating her iconic sentence from The Second Sex, "One is not born, but rather becomes, a woman" (Kyoo Lee). This part orchestrates novel conversations between Beauvoir's feminism and recent developments in the field. However, it is worth signaling that this part, comprised of five essays, is unfortunately the shortest of the volume: "Re-reading The Second Sex" and "Beyond The Second Sex" each contain fourteen essays, while "Beauvoir's Intellectual Engagements" includes seven essays. Moreover, I was concerned about the relatively narrow scope of the essays on Beauvoir and contemporary feminism. For instance, Karen Vintges's "Misunderstanding in Paris" tackles the appropriation of Beauvoir's feminism by French feminists critical of Muslim practices of veiling, while Diane Perpich's "Beauvoir's Legacy to the Quartiers: The Changing Face of French Feminism" evaluates Beauvoir's relevance to feminist activists in France's more disadvantaged and primarily immigrant neighborhoods. In light of these observations, I wished that a more general essay on transnational critiques of Beauvoir would have found a home in this part of the volume. On a related note, I question the motivation for a section on Beauvoir and contemporary feminism as opposed to Beauvoir's legacy for feminism in general, given the importance of Beauvoir for feminists of many stripes over the years since the publication of The Second Sex. For instance, I think of appropriations of Beauvoir by phenomenologically oriented feminists, such as Iris Marion Young and Sandra Bartky, and engagements by such critics as Judith Butler. Although these dialogues may be better known than those studied in the Companion, I wonder whether a synthetic essay on the history of Beauvoir's contributions to American feminism should have figured in this part. More generally, I was perplexed by certain aspects of the composition of the collection. While none of the essays repeat themselves in terms of content, there are three chapters on motherhood, two on the connections between Hegel and Beauvoir, and two on those between MerleauPonty and Beauvoir. By contrast, as I just mentioned, "Beauvoir and Contemporary Feminism" only contains five essays. I believe that the book would have been more forward-looking had the balance tilted more in the direction of contemporary engagements. Another curious lacuna is the lack of a chapter on Beauvoir's conception of existentialism. Although comparisons between Sartre's and Beauvoir's versions of existentialism abound, it is regretful that there was no chapter that squarely addressed what existentialism meant for Beauvoir. PAGE 32 SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY Despite these reservations about the composition of the collection, the Companion has much to offer to the field of feminist philosophy. The intersection of gender and race is an important theme in the volume, one present in the aforementioned essay by Kathryn Gines as well as in those by Tanella Boni ("Why is Woman the Other?"), Patricia Hill Collins ("Simone de Beauvoir, Women's Oppression and Existential Freedom"), and Shannon Sullivan ("Race After Beauvoir"). Given the importance of intersectionality to feminist theory, these essays were fruitful in analyzing the shortcomings of Beauvoir's perspectives on women of color as well as the potential for extending her methodology to intersectional feminisms. This last point is, in my eyes, a particularly promising line to explore, since Beauvoir's phenomenological approach to the socially situated body is, as Sullivan points out, relevant to any discussion of bodily experience-whether from the perspective of the critical philosophy of race, disability studies, or queer theory, to name a few areas. Besides these chapters, Deutscher's "Afterlives: Beauvoir's Old Age and the Intersections of The Second Sex" also investigates intersectional moments in Beauvoir's writings, but with a special focus on aging. On the whole, this intersectional slant is a very welcome running thread in the Companion, since many earlier collections on Beauvoir have deployed a decidedly less intersectional approach. Discussions of Beauvoir's philosophical fiction also prolong our understanding of her legacy to feminism. In particular, Shannon Mussett's "The Failure of Female Identity in Beauvoir's Fiction" probes the difficulties women face in the formation of identity in patriarchal cultures, such as the temptation to overidentify with one's romantic partners or with the social roles of wife or mother, through the lens of Beauvoir's fictional works She Came to Stay, All Men Are Mortal, and "The Woman Destroyed." Even if we have seen changes in the ways in which many women relate to these identities and roles since Beauvoir's writing, this chapter showcases the continued relevance of her work. Readers of feminist philosophy who are not acquainted with Beauvoir will find the contributions in the Companion accessible avenues to pursue their own interests in conversation with Beauvoir. Those who are interested in themes such as the body, motherhood, or love will have much to explore. Ruth Groenhout and Emily Anne Parker consider Beauvoir's account of the body and its position with respect to poststructuralist treatments of the body (Groenhout) and discussions of intersex bodies (Parker). Alison Stone, Nancy Bauer, and Sara Cohen Shabot each delve into Beauvoir's notorious account of motherhood in The Second Sex, which begins, for readers who do not know the work, with a discussion of abortion. Each of these essays seeks to complicate earlier interpretations of Beauvoir as deeply critical of motherhood. Tove Pettersen's "Love – According to Simone de Beauvoir" articulates Beauvoir's contrast between authentic and inauthentic love, and compares the resulting conception of love with Sartre's. In connection with the topic of intersectionality, Pettersen's examination of lesbian love through the lens of The Second Sex is noteworthy; Pettersen's essay should invite us to (re) consider what Beauvoir has to offer for conceptualizing "queer connection" (to borrow from the title of Hengehold's chapter). Lastly, A. Alexander Antonopoulos's chapter on transmasculinity will be of interest to feminists working on trans embodiment, especially those in search of an original spin on Beauvoir's chapter on biological data in The Second Sex. On a methodological note, Margaret Simons's retelling of Beauvoir's oft-cited denials that she was a philosopher encourages us to reflect on the reception of feminist philosophy within the field. Why exactly did Beauvoir distance herself at times from philosophy? Was it out of deference to Sartre? Or did she see a tension between her work and traditional philosophical theorizing? In a similar vein, Stella Sanford's essay on transdisciplinarity stresses The Second Sex's unique position in philosophy and the impetus it gave to other academic disciplines. Although feminist philosophy has progressively become a more established subfield in philosophy and its relevance to other subfields has increasingly been recognized, her landmark work's original "outsider status" should remind us that philosophy and neighboring academic fields can mutually enrich one another and that we should remain open to works that challenge our vision of philosophy. All in all, the Companion is a masterful work. It marks the culmination of over thirty years of studies dedicated to Beauvoir's contributions to philosophy and beyond. Just Life: Bioethics and the Future of Sexual Difference Mary Rawlinson (New York: Columbia University Press, 2016). Reviewed by Ellie Anderson PITZER COLLEGE Mary C. Rawlinson's Just Life: Bioethics and the Future of Sexual Difference intervenes in feminist philosophy and bioethics by resituating ethics between the universal and the particular. Rawlinson toes a line between an affirmation of universal abstractions and a rejection of them altogether. On the one hand, mainstream ethics has failed to recognize the way that its assumption of universality excludes a range of subjects, such as women. Discourses rooted in property rights in particular operate on the basis of such exclusions. On the other hand, feminist relativisms have failed to account for the universality of sexual difference. Rawlinson suggests that a solution may be found in what she calls "specific universals," where the generativity of life is taken to be a unifying concept even as irreducible differences between humans are affirmed. Toward this aim, the book consists of a critique of social contract theory and biopower, followed by Rawlinson's own development of alternative "specific universal" figures of ethics. The latter range from the ancient Greek figures of Ismene and Demeter to home cooks in the American and Global Souths. The book consists of four parts, preceded by a preface and introduction that feature some of the strongest parts of the book. At the outset, Rawlinson lays out the problem of universalism and suggests that the method of SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 PAGE 33 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY critical phenomenology will allow her to develop multiple universals, since "the idea of the universal does not imply that there is one set of forms and laws for human experience" (xv). Human experience, while a universal concept, by definition allows for a diverse range within itself. Rawlinson suggests that an ethics that begins with generativity offers an alternative to the propertybased ethic of social contract theory. One of the clearest formulations of Rawlinson's own intervention curiously comes in the acknowledgments, where she describes the book as an "uneasy marriage of Foucault's genealogical method and Luce Irigaray's thought of the irreducibility of sexual difference" (xxiv). That is, Just Life aims to perform a genealogy of modern ethics and refigure it by placing sexual difference at its center. Part One, "Critique of Rights," analyzes social contract theory and biopolitics. Focusing especially on Hobbes, Rousseau, and Hegel, Rawlinson demonstrates in Chapter 1 that rights-based discourses occlude women either by ignoring their role altogether (Hobbes) or by effectively limiting them to the familial domain of the home (Rousseau and Hegel). Hegel is especially taken to task for suggesting that sexual difference is a matter of the division of labor, where men have ownership over women's labor (13). Rawlinson asserts that rights-based approaches are necessarily bound up with biopower and "the norms of sexual and racial identity that serve hierarchies of power and wealth" (48). As the chapter largely consists of textual summary, this conclusion remains opaque; one might look to Carole Pateman's classic The Sexual Contract for a fuller development.1 Chapter 2 treats Rousseau and Foucault on the issue of power. In the final third of this chapter, Rawlinson sets out her own view. She suggests that critical phenomenology will allow us to "discover new universals" (73), such as the universal of generativity. She claims that attention to sexual difference invigorates an ethics of solidarity: all humans are connected by virtue of having been generated in someone else's body (76). In Part Two, "Refiguring Ethics," Rawlinson depicts new figures of the feminine. In what is perhaps the most original section of the book, Chapter 3 counters mainstream feminist discourse on Antigone by arguing that Ismene is a far better model for feminist ethics. Ismene "acts for the future and to promote life" (95). She prioritizes specific ethical commitments to the living over abstract duties to the dead (97). Antigone, on the other hand, exhibits undue care for the dead over the living by staking her life on her brother's burial. Her commitment enforces a gendered division of labor whereby women are expected to work to sustain the (male) body. Chapter 4 turns to Demeter and Persephone, affirming a mother-daughter lineage largely missing in philosophy. Somewhat mystifyingly, the chapter asserts that "the double identity of mother/daughter constitutes Persephone and all mortals" (121). No explanation is given for this suggestion that all women, let alone all mortals, have a double identity as a mother and a daughter. Part 3, "Livable Futures," addresses the ethics of eating and labor. Chapter 5 undertakes a critique of contemporary agribusiness, arguing that it is unethical and dangerous to human bodies and the environment. Rawlinson compellingly claims that bioethics should concern itself more with the conditions of agriculture under global capital than it should with questions of the individual's relation to food (debates over the ethics of animal consumption come to mind here). For Rawlinson, ethics should be directly concerned with the interplay of producers, cooks, consumers, and food cultures. Chapter 6 argues that unemployment and wealth inequality are not only sociopolitical issues, but also salient ethical ones. Rawlinson asserts that all people have a right to life-sustaining work that commands respect. She writes, "Justice requires that I see the worker in the dress that I wear or the meal that I eat" (172). Rawlinson outright rejects some types of work as being inherently exploitative, naming sex work, surrogacy among Indian women, and telemarketing as examples. Part 4, "Sovereign Bodies: Politics of Wonder or the Right to Be Joyful," comprises a single concluding chapter. Here, Rawlinson reasserts her investment in an ethics of solidarity and her rejection of a gendered division of labor rooted in property rights. Just Life posits an exciting trajectory that is highly relevant to contemporary feminist philosophy and bioethics. Feminist philosophy has in recent years been the site of rich investigations into the question of what unifies "women."2 The reinvigoration of this issue, which Talia Mae Bettcher has called the "purview concept," comes after an ebb in interest after the essentialism debates of the 1990s.3 In light of current interest, Rawlinson's promise of a feminism that rethinks the role of universality without rejecting it altogether is a compelling one. In addition, Rawlinson's claim that bioethics' focus on individual agency has been at the expense of sociopolitical analyses is promising. She suggests that issues such as high school dress codes and agribusiness should be taken seriously within bioethics. At the same time, the book is apt to leave readers hungry for a conceptual framework that is hinted at but never developed. The book succeeds in provoking its reader, but sidesteps answering the pressing questions it raises. The most relevant issue here is that of sexual difference. Sexual difference is the ostensible basis of Rawlinson's view of specific universals, but receives very little treatment in the book. The closest the book gets to the "purview concept" is in Chapter 2, where Rawlinson writes: All women are comprised by the possibility of pregnancy, whether that possibility is thwarted by infertility or spectacular, as in the case of transwomen who, appearing as women, might very well appear as someone's mother. The biology of the female sex reminds women early on of their capacity for pregnancy. (70) One might wonder whether it is really biology that reminds women of the possibility of pregnancy, or rather the patriarchal deployment of biopower that does so. Moreover, it remains unclear here to what extent Rawlinson is defining women on the basis of their fertility. If affirming such an association, the book leaves itself vulnerable to the questions to which any such view is subject: questions about trans* and intersex folks, as well as cis women PAGE 34 SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY who are not fertile or past fertility. While the quotation above pays lip service to these questions, the book does not address them. If Rawlinson means to suggest that women are the category of people who appear to be capable of pregnancy, then her view is close to those of Sally Haslanger and Linda Martín Alcoff, who claim that counting as a woman is dependent on being taken to have a female biological role in reproduction.4 If this is the case, then Rawlinson's view would take only some trans women to be women: namely, those who "pass" (see Katharine Jenkins). Given the book's evasion of these questions and lack of engagement with relevant current debates within feminism, it is unclear how Rawlinson's concept of specific universals improves upon the existing literature. Just Life often appeals to the value of life as a good that is worthy of unequivocal respect. Yet the reader is left wondering what is meant by "life," as well as how an ethics that foregrounds its value may help resolve concrete dilemmas about which lives to favor in which situations (127). Rawlinson writes, for instance, "Critical phenomenology . . . works for life. It submits itself to life and promotes it" (73). What the book does not offer, however, is a critique of the notion of life; this is surprising, given Rawlinson's Foucauldian leanings. A key feature of Foucault's genealogy of biopower is the way that it valorizes life and allows the state to make decisions over life and death.5 This analysis is not at odds with what Rawlinson offers here, but one craves a definition of what she means by "life," as well as a critique of the way this concept is deployed by the biopolitical institutions she decries. The Foucauldian influence might additionally suggest that the concept of sexual difference needs to be interrogated rather than uncritically affirmed. Johanna Oksala undertakes such an investigation in her recent work.6 A related methodological question concerns critical phenomenology: while Rawlinson situates Just Life within it, she does not discuss any other phenomenologists. Critical phenomenology is associated here with an analysis of the "natural attitude" that allows us to critique current social conditions, but little development of this idea is offered (73). Just Life offers some enchanting lyrical descriptions of the ethics at work in concrete communities such as the Dastkar Craft Community Center in India and the Burgundy wine region of France, but these concrete descriptions are not obviously critical or phenomenological. This is perhaps a missed opportunity, because critical phenomenology is a burgeoning area in feminist philosophy and is in the process of developing rich intersectional methodologies.7 Finally, the book presents itself as a critique of rightsbased discourses, but ends up affirming what appear to be rights. The conclusion, whose title includes "the Right to Be Joyful," claims: "To thrive as an agent, each one must enjoy the integrity of her body, including her generativity" (187). It is difficult not to hear in this a perpetuation of the very property rights-based discourses Rawlinson dismisses. Does this statement not assert one's right to enjoy the integrity of one's own body? In addition, the statement risks justifying the gendered division of labor that Rawlinson associates with Hegel. Does upholding generativity as the locus of women's universality not entrench the division of labor that associates women with their power to give birth? Related to this is the ambiguity of the book's notion of generativity. Rawlinson sometimes associates generativity specifically with women (7), but at other times asserts that all humans are generative (71). Is the universal of generativity meant to unite all humans, or only women? If the former, why does sexual difference need a future? NOTES 1. Carole Pateman, The Sexual Contract (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1988). 2. See, for instance, Linda Martín Alcoff, Visible Identities: Race, Gender, and the Self (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006); Talia Mae Bettcher, "Trans Women and the Meaning of 'Woman,'" in Philosophy of Sex: Contemporary Readings, 6th ed., eds. Alan Soble, Nicholas Power, Raja Halwani, 233–50 (Lanham, MD: Roman and Littlefield, 2013); Esa Diaz-Leon, "'Woman' as a Politically Significant Term: A Solution to the Puzzle," Hypatia: A Journal of Feminist Philosophy 31, no. 1-2 (2016): 86–96; Sally Haslanger, Resisting Reality: Social Construction and Social Critique (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012); Katharine Jenkins, "Amelioration and Inclusion: Gender Identity and the Concept of Woman," Ethics 126, no. 2 (2016): 394–421; Gayle Salamon, Assuming a Body: Transgender and the Rhetorics of Materiality (Columbia University Press, 2010); Lori Watson, "The Woman Question," Transgender Studies Quarterly 3, no. 1-2 (2016): 248–55. 3. Talia Mae Bettcher, "Trans Feminism: Recent Philosophical Developments," Philosophy Compass 12: 11 (November 2017). 4. Haslanger, Resisting Reality, 234-35; Alcoff, Visible Identities, 172. 5. See, for instance, Michel Foucault, Security, Territory, Population: Lectures at the Collège de France, 1977–78 (New York: Palgrave MacMillan, 2009). 6. Johanna Oksala, Feminist Experiences: Foucauldian and Phenomenological Investigations (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 2016). 7. For an overview of recent investigations into critical phenomenology, including by feminist philosophers, see Gayle Salamon, "What's Critical about Critical Phenomenology?" Puncta: A Journal of Critical Phenomenology (2018): 8–17. Men's Intrusion, Women's Embodiment. A Critical Analysis of Street Harassment F. Vera-Gray. Routledge Research in Gender and Society, 2017. 182 pages. Reviewed by Meryl Altman DEPAUW UNIVERSITY There are no new ideas still waiting in the wings to save us as women, as human. There are only old and forgotten ones, new combinations, extrapolations and recognitions from within ourselves-along with the renewed courage to try them out.1 – Audre Lorde, Poetry Is Not a Luxury As Storm Heter remarked at a recent UK Sartre Society conference, "'applied phenomenology' is a redundancy." Perhaps this helps explain how Simone de Beauvoir's The Second Sex galvanized feminist activism in the last century and continues to inspire practical understanding and action today. Fiona Vera-Gray's valuable book is deeply rooted in Beauvoir's phenomenological account of women's ambiguous embodiment, the understanding that a woman SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 PAGE 35 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY "is her body, but her body is also something other than herself," that the body is a situation that grounds, and then carries, our experience of the world and of who we are. The feminist "desire to resist removing women's agency in responding to men's violence and/or intrusion, without claiming that actions made within unequal conditions are expressions of absolute freedom" finds a helpful pathway, she argues, with Beauvoir's concepts of "ambiguity" and the "situated self" (57).2 Vera-Gray also draws on Merleau-Ponty's concepts of "living body,"3 "body schema," and "habit-body," and Heidegger's ideas of entanglement with, and attunement to, the world; the pioneering insights of Sandra Bartky on shame and humiliation, and Iris Marion Young's investigations of women's "inhibited intentionality," also feature in her deft analysis, alongside philosophical work on embodiment by Gail Weiss, Sara Heinamäa, and others. But she draws also on what she terms the "knowledge base" about violence against women created by social scientists and feminist practitioners over the past three or four decades,4 and the core of the book is her own empirical research, a study undertaken with fifty women from different age groups and backgrounds whose experiences and insights were captured through inductive, iterative qualitative methods. Her book contributes usefully to several different fields, and also stands as an intriguing example of how philosophy and empirical inquiry can fully intertwine, with neither becoming the handmaid of the other. Vera-Gray's starting point is Liz Kelly's (1988) idea of sexual violence as a continuum, the insight "that there was a connection between the mundane everyday intimate intrusions most women and girls experience and the forms of abuse which are considered crimes and worthy of legal intervention."5 She deploys the concept of "male intrusion" to capture a full range of interactions, showing how the "ordinary" occurrences, the interruptions, commands ("smile!"), insults ("oi, ugly!"), sexual commentary ("look at the tits on that!"), lewd invitations, etc. that are "just part of growing up," as girls continue to be told ("that's life, dearie"), are connected to male behavior that is coded as criminal, such as flashing, stalking, public masturbation, attempted and completed rape. Her aim is to re-center women's experience of public space and the "phenomenological texture" of how we move through it. This importantly includes what Liz Kelly called "safety work," an idea analogous to Arlie Hochschild's "emotional labor": "the level of strategising and planning that women undertake in responding to, avoiding and/or coping with men's violence, such as the imposition of limits. . . . Such work, repeated over time, becomes habitual and through this is a form of hidden labour, absorbed into the body" (134). This ongoing need for what one of her subjects calls "the right amount of panic," balanced between the responsibility to protect ourselves (or be blamed if we don't) and the fear of being paranoid or silly, mean that even when "nothing really happened," something does happen. Safety work, and the intrusions that suddenly remind us that we can be viewed as (only) a body, produce an alienated body-subject and a particular gendered variation on "the paradox of the bodily-self as both subject and object" (98), weaving a web of restrictions on women's freedom (a word she is not afraid to use) and sustaining an underlying silent consensus that public space is male space and women inhabit it at our peril. Indeed, we may experience our own bodies as the source of danger. Vera-Gray's rendering of Beauvoir's understanding of embodiment is exact, and she provides a clear introduction to the phenomenological tradition (both feminist and pre- feminist) and the ways it overlaps with feminist standpoint theory, once the latter is properly understood as a dynamic project rather than a set of fixed "givens" or attributes.6 The connection she draws between Beauvoir's concept of situation and Donna Haraway's "situated knowledges" is especially persuasive. She also shows where Beauvoir's account partly overlaps, but is preferable to, the accounts of Foucault and Bourdieu on which feminists often draw; she shows (as others have) that Judith Butler's critique of Beauvoir was based on misreading into her work a rigid sex-gender distinction which is not actually there.7 But Vera-Gray's real innovation-and in many ways the heart of the book-is the way she centers the voices of her subjects, by compiling what she calls "a hybrid poem in 50 voices": every description of every intrusion, and every description by a woman of how she responded, brought into a big list and then randomized. This became a corpus for her analysis, but she also reproduces big, undigested chunks of it right on the page, and these stand alone, in alternation with the chapters in her own (more scholarly) voice. In her words, It is difficult, overwhelming, shocking, neverending, repetitive, exhausting-capturing some of the phenomenological texture of being a woman in public. This representation can only be partial; I make no claim for a universalized experience. What I wanted was a way to connect women's voices across their commonalities without collapsing the ways in which every particular woman experiences men's violence differently based on social and personal locations and histories. A way of recreating for the reader something of the way the experience is lived; that sudden feeling of being pulled outside of yourself, without wanting, without warning. Interrupted, disrupted. Intrusion.8 As she says, this is "not an easy read: the raw materials of this study are, and remain, raw in both senses, and working through them can bring back one's own buried experience . . . with the hope that this can deepen our connection to one another, our determination to work collectively for a world where such things no longer constitute the habituated substrate of living as a woman. To the reader who has never had these experiences, I ask you to bear witness . . . and to those who've had many . . . I hope you find some validation." Philosophy and theory thus become a way in to what is harmful and painful, rather than a defensive escape: the goal is to change it. Working through this heterogenous heaping up of experiences and responses also reminds us that, as Gail Weiss says, there can be "no such thing as 'the' body"- every body is someone, some one9-while simultaneously fighting the tendency of mainstream discourse to treat PAGE 36 SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY intrusions and violence in an atomized, episodic way. Too much focus on "who-was-he-and-what-was-he-thinking" can create a (smallish) category of "deviant" men and block the scarier structural analysis of male power. Perhaps this is the greatest theoretical payoff of Vera-Gray's book: while we are rightly suspicious of universal accounts, we need not abandon the search for general ones, or throw up our hands as any conceivable "we" dissolves into an infinite dissemination of granular incommensurable "I's." As a Beauvoir scholar, I am excited by this book because it deeply understands what Beauvoir herself was trying to do, particularly in the second volume of The Second Sex. Beauvoir's long and seemingly overlapping quotations from all sorts of sources, giving first-person accounts of women's experiences, build a picture of what Vera-Gray calls the "phenomenological texture" of life as a woman, through strategies of apparent redundancy which acknowledge differences between and within, singularities in how each woman or girl responds, some with fear and some with pleasure, balancing every person's right to her own story with the need for generalized collective understanding in the service of solidarity.10 This is what gets left out, I think, when we teach only the Introduction to the Second Sex. We also don't think enough, in my view, about how committed Beauvoir herself was to the value of empirical investigation, in the Second Sex and elsewhere.11 Maybe attending to the stories Beauvoir lets us hear throughout the book can help us see why the Second Sex worked, and worked powerfully, for so many women to whom philosophy (in the academic sense) was a closed book. If anything is dated about Beauvoir, it is not these phenomenological accounts, as Vera-Gray says and illustrates by bringing Beauvoir's words into parallel with the words of her own study subjects; she wisely doesn't give many quotations or long ones from Beauvoir, but the "poem," and her substantial contextualized quotation from her own transcripts in the course of analysis, function analogously. The piling up of affect does not merely point at, but actively conveys, the ambiguity of living experience, which cannot be represented by an either/or binary (sexual or not sexual, desire or repulsion, what happened vs. what might have happened, etc.). No one woman could have had all these experiences and responded in all these myriad ways, but nonetheless they added up to . . . something, to what it was and is to walk through the world situated as a female body.12 Vera-Gray's study will also be of great interest to social scientists and feminist practitioners in the field. The phenomenological reading can help show why law and policy, which require that behaviors be operationalized and divided into neat, clear categories, really can't produce a safe and comfortable environment for women, although we are still obligated to try. Attempts to measure behaviors episodically, in terms of what is done or what was felt at the time, miss the powerful effects of "safety work" when it succeeds, and counting incidents of harassment in particular will miss, among other things, the intrusions that are not "unwelcome" but nonetheless "uninvited"13 and part of the overall landscape of male entitlement. Moreover, operating from a "crime framework" and focusing on "what counts" misreads the continuum as more of a hierarchy, and "such hierarchical positioning risks losing how the quieter forms of intrusion, those experienced by women as a restriction in freedom, rely on the possibilities of the louder, criminal forms, to have the particular impact that they do" (22). Also, the harm of a thing that happens is not limited to the perceived harm of that thing at the time it happens to the person it happens to. She concludes that legal and scholarly languages can't be made to fit together seamlessly, but that both are needed: "one frame need not replace the other" (12). (While she doesn't quite say so, her work can also help explain why the results of well-intentioned gender-neutral policies have been so disappointing.) Vera-Gray does some counting herself, to show the magnitude of what she is discussing, but with attention to what is left out; indeed, her title's framing of "public space" in terms of "street harassment" does not quite satisfy her, especially with the exponential growth of online worlds. (Feminists wanted an end to the "public/private split," I guess, but not like this.) Moreover, it is now clear that the "street" experiences her subjects describe are standard operating procedure in many workplaces. Delimiting the phenomena under study becomes even harder; tackling the problem, even more urgent. While the results of Vera-Gray's study have also been published in a separate version aimed at more general audiences,14 I hope Men's Intrusion, Women's Embodiment will be eventually made available in paperback form: it strikes me as a clear, teachable text for feminist philosophy and theory classes. It might also be used in Feminist Methodology classes grounded in the social sciences, as there's food for thought in the way she "co-created" meanings with her subjects, through initial interviews conducted as conversations, followed up by asking them to record intrusions they experienced in structured notebooks (which were turned in and analyzed), and then met for a further collaborative reflection on what the research showed. The way she went about "researching the ordinary" (30), and the way she discusses the ethical issues involves, is a contribution in itself. Vera-Gray's last chapter, "Inhabiting Ourselves," begins to suggest a way forward: since, as Beauvoir said, "woman is not a fixed reality but a becoming" and the "habit-body" is "open" (Merleau-Ponty), we can make ourselves more aware of and begin to change it, through the adoption of "counterhabits," a conscious practice of disruption and/or "restoration" (169). This could include re-valuing our "safety work" as resistance, and reclaiming feminist practices of self-defense from what non-feminist hands have made of it. But this is just a sketch of possibilities: surely the way forward will have to go beyond how we "work on ourselves." It will be good to hear more about how she imagines this. Meanwhile, just beyond the horizon of Vera-Gray's project lie some questions Beauvoir also prompts us to ask: What is the impact of what is unwanted in the way of sexual attention, on shaping what can be wanted, what is wanted, what "wanting" even means? How does the "experiential template of risk" involved in women's embodied attitude SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 PAGE 37 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY to the world affect our relationship to matters that might seem unconnected to "the body" as such, matters like writing, speaking up in a faculty meeting, venturing into an unknown area of intellectual work? running for Congress? (For example, what if we extended the idea of "safety work" to, for example, the constant second-guessing and self-policing one does in so-called professional contexts, "safety work" that is particularly invisible, and discounted, when it works, as it now often does?) Beauvoir's claim for how women were held back was a more sweeping one. There is still work to do. NOTES 1. From "Poetry is Not a Luxury" (1986), quoted by F. Vera-Gray (12). Further references to the book I'm reviewing will be incorporated in the text. 2. This is becoming more widely understood, as Vera-Gray shows, thanks to several decades of scholarship by Margaret Simons, Sonia Kruks, and Toril Moi among others, and the (2011) English re-translation by Constance Borde and Sheila Malovany-Chevalier. 3. She follows Sara Heinamäa in translating not "lived body" but "living body," as she explains (15): "I use the terms 'living body' and 'living experience' instead of the conventional 'lived,' to further emphasize our temporality as well as the role of our active processes in creating the body and experience as we live it." See also 57. 4. This includes what she calls the "prevalence literature," and accounts written to guide clinicians and practitioners who work professionally with victim-survivors, as she herself has done for a number of years. 5. Liz Kelly, "Preface," x. 6. She quotes K. Weeks (Constituting Feminist Subjects, Cornell 1998): "a standpoint is a project, not an inheritance" (Vera-Gray, 27). 7. Vera-Gray references Toril Moi's work and Sara Heinamaa's; another very good account is Moya Lloyd, Judith Butler: From Norms to Politics (Polity, 2007). Vera-Gray gives a nice example (59) of how Beauvoir's first translator, H. M. Parshley, had a lack of awareness to phenomenological language and thus distorted an account of embodied experience into an apparent dualistic essentialism. 8. Preface, xiii. 9. Gail Weiss, Body Images: Embodiment as Intercorporeality (Routledge, 1999), 1, quoted 56. 10. This points to another unfortunate effect of Parshley's editing: in an understandable attempt to make the text shorter and more "readable," he cut many of these quotations entirely and shortened or paraphrased many others. 11. A collection edited by Ingrid Galster, Simone de Beauvoir: Le Deuxième sexe: le livre fondateur du féminisme moderne en situation (Paris; Honoré Champion Éditeur, 2015) provides a detailed, chapter-by-chapter guide to the non-philosophical sources Beauvoir consulted in researching The Second Sex; the empirical strands are even stronger in Old Age and The Long March. 12. For another interesting discussion of this mode of argument, see Patricia Moynagh, "Beauvoir on Lived Reality, Exemplary Validity, and a Method for Political Thought," in Simone de Beauvoir's Political Thinking, ed. Lori Jo Marso and Patricia Moynagh, 11–30 (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2006). 13. The adjustment from "unwanted" or "unwelcome" to "uninvited" (7, 11) is a brilliant stroke, I think, because it captures a basic fact about these situations: that whether or not women "want" them does not matter. As Susan Estrich put it in Real Rape (Harvard, 1987), "consent is presumed." 14. The Right Amount of Panic: How Women Trade Freedom for Safety (Policy Press, 2018). The Social and Political Philosophy of Mary Wollstonecraft Edited by Sandrine Bergès and Alan Coffee (Oxford University Press, 2017). 240 pp. ISBN 9780198766841. Reviewed by Valerie Williams EMMANUEL COLLEGE The Social and Political Philosophy of Mary Wollstonecraft, edited by Sandrine Bergès and Alan Coffee, is an excellent collection of twelve philosophical essays written by scholars at the forefront of Wollstonecraft research. Their self-professed aim in presenting this collection is to show the "breadth of current leading philosophical research in Wollstonecraft's work."1 The issues addressed throughout the volume are, indeed, many and varied. They include but are not limited to concerns about the nature of freedom, the relationship between friendship and marriage, and the role of rights and duties to both individuals and society. Wollstonecraft scholars will almost certainly find this text now among the critical texts with which one ought to engage when writing on Wollstonecraft. However, this text should also appeal to historians of philosophy interested in the philosophical moves made throughout modernity and between antiquity and modernity. Contemporary philosophers with interests in social and political philosophy, feminist philosophy, or ethics will find much as well. Taken altogether, The Social and Political Philosophy of Mary Wollstonecraft not only shows many new paths taken in Wollstonecraft scholarship, but also invites scholars to pursue further research by providing new opportunities for dialogue with her text. One particular strength of this collection is that the authors converse with each other. As a result, readers are able to see opposing sides of an issue or how one interpretation can serve as a foundation for other insights. For example, in the first chapter, Sylvana Tomaselli argues that Wollstonecraft "did not in fact seem to believe the eradication of the consequences of innate differences possible; indeed, she did not consistently appear to desire it."2 In chapter nine, Lena Halldenius disagrees with this very point. Alan Coffee and Philip Pettit have different arguments about what "freedom" means for Wollstonecraft.3 Catriona Mackenzie makes use of both Coffee and Halldenius's works to support her own argument. Initially, readers may question how broad the current research on Wollstonecraft is: five of the collection's twelve pieces focus on Wollstonecraft's republicanism. Given the historically contentious nature of classifying Wollstonecraft within a specific tradition, this may seem skewed. With that said, Bergès and Coffee make a good case for including so many articles that draw upon republicanism. The connections between Wollstonecraft and republicanism are, by comparison, new. Moreover, the lens of republicanism has helped philosophers not only to better understand key concepts, such as equality and freedom, within Wollstonecraft's works, but also to tease out further implications of her work. PAGE 38 SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY There are relatively few reasons to criticize the work, but as with any collection of essays, some are more successful than others. Some essays may have been overly ambitious in what they set out to accomplish within their limited pages. Some authors needed to establish clearer stakes for their arguments. Often, though, the authors realize the limitations of their chapters, and one would hope that other scholars take on the task of fleshing out additional avenues for investigation. As a collection aimed at discussing contemporary Wollstonecraft scholarship, readers with interests in Wollstonecraft and socialism or Wollstonecraft as a commentator on race and class may wish for a stronger focus on these issues. Nevertheless, the work as a whole is still diverse. The first three chapters loosely hang together insofar as they concern the ways in which Wollstonecraft's predecessors are useful for understanding Wollstonecraft's works. Of particular note is Nancy Kendrick's chapter in which she uses Aristotle to show how Wollstonecraft has replaced the notion of marriage as a friendship of utility with the notion that marriage is a friendship of virtue. The textual evidence she uses regarding reciprocation and perfection is both clear and convincing, and the essay should serve scholars of Aristotle and Wollstonecraft well in the years to come. Martina Reuter's chapter, "The Role of the Passions in Mary Wollstonecraft's Notion of Virtue," represents a masterful example of close textual analysis of Wollstonecraft's discussion of the Houyhnhnms and Yahoos from Jonathan Swift's Gulliver's Travels. Reuter's analysis reveals that, for Wollstonecraft, passions give human beings real choices to do what is virtuous or what is not. The Houyhnhnms simply do not have this choice open to them. It is in choice that Wollstonecraft finds virtuous action. An action is not virtuous if one does it because one must; rather, an act is virtuous when one chooses to do it. This lends credence to the view that Wollstonecraft is a virtue ethicist. The middling chapters of The Social and Political Philosophy of Mary Wollstonecraft address what I consider to be implications of Wollstonecraft's work for contemporary social and ethical philosophy. For example, Mackenzie argues that Wollstonecraft's own position on autonomy anticipates debates within contemporary relational autonomy theory. Mackenzie does, indeed, paint with a "broad brush," but this invites additional scholarly research into the relationships she lays out in her work. In "Mary Wollstonecraft, Children's Human Rights, and Animal Ethics," Botting shows that while Wollstonecraft does not extend rights to animals, she may nevertheless be useful to animal rights theorists insofar as Wollstonecraft "modeled how to use a radically utopian ideal of rights to push for a richer and creative realization of rights in hostile or unreceptive legal systems" (95).4 The majority of Botting's work, however, is aimed at capturing Wollstonecraft's conception of the parent-child relationship. Laura Brace's "Wollstonecraft and the Properties of (Anti-) Slavery" provides a bridge into the next five chapters on republicanism by focusing on freedom. Brace demonstrates that both Wollstonecraft and the abolitionists of her day hold that people have mistaken the way the world appears for the way the world actually is; they both hold that women and non-whites merely appear to be incapable of freedom because of the various ways in which they have been socialized. Wollstonecraft differed from abolitionists in some respect. Many abolitionists considered the deep problem with slavery to be the lack of contract between master and slave; Wollstonecraft did not think that slavery would be less morally problematic if slaves voluntarily contracted away their lives. The republican chapters begin with a bang. Pettit provides readers with a singularly clear entrance into thinking about the republican dimensions of Wollstonecraft's thought. He uses Henrik Ibsen's A Doll's House to illustrate the particular set of questions about what it means for a wife to be free, and to show readers one of the ways in which Wollstonecraft drew upon the republican tradition's conception of freedom. In A Doll's House, the wife enjoys no legal or political freedom to do as she pleases; however, if the husband allows her to do as she pleases anyway, it is unclear whether she is free in any meaningful sense. On the republican view, in which freedom is about nondomination, if someone can stop you from doing as you please, this makes you unfree. Here is where Pettit says that Wollstonecraft seems particularly republican: she wants women not to depend upon men's kindness for their freedom of mind or freedom to act. In chapter eight, Susan James argues for the view that Wollstonecraft is a Spinozist on the issue of rights. James then addresses four potential problems with holding the view that rights are powers to act and offers four solutions to these problems on behalf of Wollstonecraft. The fourth solution, however, opens Wollstonecraft up to a criticism that Wollstonecraft "allows anyone to do anything they can."5 James observes that Wollstonecraft uses the natural law to circumvent this particular criticism and goes on to make a larger conceptual claim about the relationship of republicanism to liberalism. James comments that this attempt to bridge republicanism and the natural law "contributes to what will become the triumph of liberalism over republicanism-the subordination of theories organized around a conception of equal freedom as the overarching value of political life to theories grounded on individual moral rights."6 Halldenius attempts to identify a coherent notion of representation in Wollstonecraft's work. Halldenius would do well to set the stakes of her argument at the beginning of the chapter so that readers can know why Wollstonecraft's conception of representation is particularly important. Halldenius's argument requires reading Wollstonecraft as a republican, juxtaposing her views with those of her rough contemporaries, and reading the text closely to understand how her concept of a duty impacts her commitments to the notion of representation. She is successful in this close reading of the text, and her comments on duty will be useful to Wollstonecraft scholars regardless of their interest in representation. Among the most successful chapters, Coffee's "Mary Wollstonecraft, Public Reason, and the Virtuous SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 PAGE 39 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY Republic" shows that virtue is a necessary component of Wollstonecraft's conception of freedom. Coffee contends that the relationship between virtue and freedom in Wollstonecraft's theory sheds light on contemporary concerns in republicanism about accommodating diversity while maintaining freedom. Although there are many noteworthy insights in this chapter, one of particular importance is that Wollstonecraft offers both moral and pragmatic reasons for favoring freedom. For readers familiar with Wollstonecraft's work, this reasoning is recognizable as the backbone of Wollstonecraft's claims about why women should be granted an education: without it, they will fail to be good people and cause men to be unfree. It is in Wollstonecraft's call for independence as a necessary condition for freedom that Coffee finds some advice for contemporary republicans: they should foster an environment in which all groups have access to the means by which to conduct public discourse. This is difficult to enact in practice, but the point of this article stands: Wollstonecraft continues to contribute to discussions regarding multiculturalism. The last chapter on Wollstonecraft's republicanism attempts to reconcile feminist and republican ideals to some extent by examining Wollstonecraft and Sophie de Grouchy on the role of mothering. In her essay, Bergès provides an excellent overview of de Grouchy's work for readers who might be unfamiliar. While Wollstonecraft and de Grouchy agree that mothering is indispensable to the development of republican virtues, they differ in their appraisal of wet nurses. Wollstonecraft maintains that women with wet nurses become vicious; de Grouchy does not. Bergès suggests that Wollstonecraft's familiarity with wet nurses in England may have prevented her from seeing how wet nurses can be used well. Bergès concludes that de Grouchy may open up an avenue for reconciling the republican commitment to developing virtuous citizens with the feminist desire for mothers to be able to choose to work. However, Bergès does note that this solution is somewhat limited by practical and theoretical constraints. To echo a sentiment shared by Bergès and Coffee, readers may wish that the text were longer. As Barbara Taylor points out in the final chapter of the work, there is little reference outside of footnotes and brief discussions regarding the role of Christianity in Wollstonecraft's work. And even though Bergès and Coffee are careful to frame their project in terms of presenting current philosophical research, it is striking that there is little discussion of Wollstonecraft's liberalism. With that said, Bergès and Coffee have compiled an outstanding volume filled with philosophical insight that will be useful to many. NOTES 1. Sandrine Bergès and Alan Coffee, "Introduction," in The Social and Political Philosophy of Mary Wollstonecraft, ed. Sandrine Bergès and Alan Coffee, 5 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016). 2. Sylvana Tomaselli, "Reflections on Inequality, Respect, and Love in the Political Writings of Mary Wollstonecraft," in The Social and Political Philosophy of Mary Wollstonecraft, ed. Sandrine Bergès and Alan Coffee, 14–33 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016). 3. Alan Coffee, "Mary Wollstonecraft, Public Reason, and the Virtuous Republic," in The Social and Political Philosophy of Mary Wollstonecraft, ed. Sandrine Bergès and Alan Coffee, 184 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016). 4. Eileen Hunt Botting, "Mary Wollstonecraft, Children's Human Rights, and Animal Ethics," in The Social and Political Philosophy of Mary Wollstonecraft, ed. Sandrine Bergès and Alan Coffee, 95 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016). 5. Susan James, "Mary Wollstonecraft's Conception of Rights," in The Social and Political Philosophy of Mary Wollstonecraft, ed. Sandrine Bergès and Alan Coffee, 161 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016). 6. Ibid., 163. NEWS FROM THE COMMITTEE ON THE STATUS OF WOMEN COMMITTEE MEMBERS FOR 2019–2020 Adriel M. Trott (APA Blog Series Editor), Kathryn J. Norlock (Associate Chair 2019), Charlotte Witt (Chair 2019), Margaret Atherton (Member 2019), Amy R. Baehr (Member 2019), Michael C. Rea (Member 2019), Rachel V. McKinnon (Member 2020, on leave), Julinna C. Oxley (Member 2020), Katie Stockdale (Member 2021), Nancy Bauer (Member 2021), Nicole J. Hassoun (Member 2021), Janet A. Kourany (Member 2021), Lauren Freeman (Newsletter Editor), Peggy DesAutels (Site Visit Program Director). THE WOMEN IN PHILOSOPHY BLOG IS A YEAR OLD! The series continues to solicit contributions on topics about women in the field, about women in the public sphere, or about the research women in the field are doing. We are working on cultivating a space for women and genderqueer folks to discuss these issues, but the comment sections still tend to be populated by men, and often men who are telling the posters how to better think about diversity, so it's still a work in progress. People who are interested in supporting the series might consider submitting a post to the series editor (Adriel M. Trott at trotta@wabash.edu) or commenting on posts. CSW POSTERS Two new posters are available for purchase on the CSW website (http://www. apaonlinecsw.org/). CSW SESSION ON #METOO DRAWS AN OVERFLOW CROWD AT THE EASTERN APA Speakers Cassie Herbert, Elizabeth Harman, Linda Alcoff, and Saba Fatima spoke to a large and appreciative room, and showed how enlightening and important feminist reflection on current topics can be. PAGE 40 SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY ANNOUNCEMENTS CALL FOR PAPERS Global Structural Injustice and Minority Rights Date: Friday, March 13–Sunday, March 15, 2020 Location: Northeastern University, Boston, MA, USA Keynote Speakers Avigail Eisenberg, University of Victoria Stephen Gardiner, University of Washington Catherine Lu, McGill University Conference Theme The concept of structural injustice is one that has been given a lot of attention by political philosophers in recent years. Iris Young defined structural injustice as a kind of moral wrong that is distinct from unjust, biased or malicious actions by individual actors or policies of states. Rather, structural injustice is the result of actions by many different actors and institutions over long periods of time, actions which are not necessarily unjust and may even be morally neutral or positive. Even though the individual actions may not be unjust in themselves, the resulting structural features may be said to be unjust because they unfairly constrain some people's options and threaten them with deprivation, where as they benefit others. Individual actions play a role, of course, since structural injustice is maintained through the behavior and actions of individuals, but the focus of moral concern is the structures that perpetuate it. The structural injustice framework has been used to discuss domestic political questions. But can it also be used to consider global social and political challenges? The guiding question of this conference is: Can the concept of structural injustice be fruitfully applied to global problems? For example, can the harms of climate change, forced displacement, gender inequality, economic inequality, etc., be understood as forms of structural injustice? Furthermore, can this framework help us to understand how we should ascribe responsibility for these global challenges? A particular focus of this conference will be minority rights. Can structural injustice help us to understand how to better address injustices experienced by members of global minorities such as Indigenous populations, refugees, climate refugees, members of the LGBTQ community, etc.? How have global minorities attempted to resist and transform the conditions of structural injustice that impact them? Should global minorities (and their allies) aim to transform domestic or global institutional structures (or both)? How can global minorities (and their allies) collaborate to resist and transform structural injustice? Papers relating to any aspect of the theme of global structural injustice and minority rights will be considered. Please email 300–500 word abstracts to Ava Sasani (sasani.a@husky.neu.edu) by July 1, 2019. This conference is organized by the Department of Philosophy at Northeastern University in Boston in cooperation with UiT The Arctic University of Norway and the Globalizing Minority Rights Project (www.uit.no/ research/gmr). The conference is supported by a grant from the Norwegian Research Council. CANADIAN SOCIETY FOR WOMEN IN PHILOSOPHY October 25, 2019–October 27, 2019 University of Guelph, Canada Our conference theme is "Feminism and Food." This conference asks participants to consider how food, as a topic worthy of philosophical investigation, is related to feminist challenges to traditional discourse. How has food been discussed in the history of philosophy, or overlooked? How has feminist philosophical scholarship taken into account issues including the ethics and politics of food production, availability, and consumption? What counts as food, and how are metaphysical claims regarding the nature of food related to our attitudes to animals, to climate, and to cultural geographies? A block of rooms has been reserved at the Delta Hotel, directly across from the University of Guelph. The last day to book is Wednesday, September 25, 2019. You can make your reservation here. Delta Hotels Guelph Conference Centre 50 Stone Road West Guelph, ON. N1G 0A9 CONTRIBUTOR BIOS Meryl Altman teaches English and Women's Studies at DePauw University in Indiana. She has just completed a book, Beauvoir in Time. Ellie Anderson is visiting assistant professor of philosophy at Pitzer College. Her research focuses on phenomenology, deconstruction, and feminist theory. She recently received her PhD from Emory University and has published articles on the work of Simone de Beauvoir in the Continental Philosophy Review and the Journal of Speculative Philosophy. She is co-author of the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy's entry, "Feminist Perspectives on the Self." She is currently completing a book project on selfhood and intersubjectivity. Elle Benjamin is a PhD candidate at the University of Massachusetts Amherst. She mainly works in metaphysics, but also has strong interests in social and feminist philosophy, atypical cognition, and the intersection of autism and feminism. Her dissertation attempts to reconcile Humean objections to an ontology of states of affairs through the development of a metaphysics of relations called Positionalism. But this project may just be a futile manifestation of weak central coherence. SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER 2 PAGE 41 APA NEWSLETTER | FEMINISM AND PHILOSOPHY Agnes Callard is associate professor and director of Undergraduate Studies in the Department of Philosophy at the University of Chicago. She received her BA from the University of Chicago in 1997 and her PhD from Berkeley in 2008. Her primary areas of specialization are ancient philosophy and ethics. Her book, Aspiration: The Agency of Becoming, was published by Oxford University Press in 2018. Céline Leboeuf is an assistant professor in the Philosophy Department at Florida International University. Her current research lies at the intersection of continental philosophy, feminist philosophy, and the critical philosophy of race. Inspired by the idea of philosophy as a way of life, her work aims to develop an art of living the body in a world that primarily understands the bodies of members of oppressed groups through the lens of reductive stereotypes. At present, she is investigating the effects of stringent beauty standards on women's experiences of their bodies, probing the experience of mixed-race individuals, and exploring her never-ending fascination with Simone de Beauvoir. Kate Manne is an assistant professor of philosophy at Cornell University, where she's been teaching since 2013. Before that, she was a junior fellow at the Harvard Society of Fellows. Manne's research is in moral philosophy, feminist philosophy, and social philosophy. She also regularly writes opinion pieces, essays, and reviews for a wider audience-in venues including The New York Times, The Boston Review, The Huffington Post, the Times Literary Supplement, Newsweek, and New York Magazine. She recently published her first book, Down Girl: The Logic of Misogyny (Oxford University Press: New York, 2018). She is currently working on her second book, Entitled (Crown US/Penguin UK). Kathryn J. Norlock is the Kenneth Mark Drain Chair in Ethics and Professor of Philosophy at Trent University in Peterborough, Ontario, and associate chair of the APA Committee on the Status of Women. She is a co-founder and co-editor of Feminist Philosophy Quarterly, the peerreviewed, online, and Open Access journal for feminist philosophy. She feels your pain if you keep changing your syllabus for an undergraduate feminism course and recommends assigning Chapters 1, 2, 5, and 6 of Down Girl for the final two weeks of term. She is best contacted at kathrynnorlock@gmail.com. Briana Toole is a philosopher and post-doctoral fellow in the Department of Philosophy at Baruch College, CUNY. She works at the intersection of epistemology, feminist theory, and the philosophy of race and gender. Briana is interested primarily in examining the relationship between social identity and knowledge, focusing in particular on how standpoint epistemology can be used to better understand epistemic oppression. Her research is largely inspired by her experiences as a biracial teenager growing up in the Florida panhandle. These experiences led her to found the philosophy outreach program Corrupt the Youth, which aims to bring philosophy to populations that traditionally lack access to it. She has written on issues relating to diversity and philosophy in Times Higher Education, and her research has been featured on the Examining Ethics podcast. Valerie Williams is an assistant professor of philosophy at Emmanuel College in Boston, Massachusetts. Her research lies at the intersection of the history of philosophy, feminist philosophy, and social and political philosophy. She works primarily on the role of the family in early modern and modern philosophy but also has interests in early modern conceptions of education and its role in political life. Charlotte Witt is professor of philosophy and humanities at the University of New Hampshire. She is the author of Substance and Essence in Aristotle and Ways of Being in Aristotle's Metaphysics, both published by Cornell University Press. She is the co-editor of A Mind of One's Own: Feminist Essays on Reason and Objectivity and three other collections, including Adoption Matters: Philosophical and Feminist Essays. Her most recent work includes a monograph, The Metaphysics of Gender (Oxford 2011), and an edited volume, Feminist Metaphysics: Explorations in the Ontology of Sex, Gender and the Self (Springer 2011). Witt is chair of the APA Committee on the Status of Women. Audrey Yap is an associate professor in the Philosophy Department at the University of Victoria, in Canada, which stands on unceded Lekwungen territory. She is a lapsed philosopher of mathematics who now works primarily in feminist epistemology, and anti-oppressive philosophy more generally. She writes on issues around epistemic injustice and gendered violence, and is thinking these days about how we might view both perpetrators and victims of violence and oppression using non-ideal theories. PAGE 42 SPRING 2019 | VOLUME 18 | NUMBER