You probably already knowâor think you knowâwhat happened on the night of September 25, 2017 between Aziz Ansari and an anonymous woman calling herself âGrace.â These are the accepted facts: she went on a date with Ansari, they went back to his house, and then had some sexual contact that left Grace feeling deeply uncomfortable. No crime was alleged, since Ansari did not force himself on Grace in any way, but this was clearly a nasty encounter for her. The next day, she texted Ansari telling him as much and he apologized for having âmisread things.â Several months later, she published her account on the website babe.
For a few weeks following the publication of Graceâs story, the internet was awash with claims and counter-claims about the rights and wrongs of what had taken place. Every media outlet offered up its judgment on Ansari. To somecommentators, he was the victim of a witch hunt, persecuted by an internet mob with no respect for due process. On the other side, manyfeministsargued that his behavior exemplified the aggressive, entitled, chauvinistic attitude that too many men show towards women. Otherssuggested that the reaction against Ansari was disproportionateâyes he had behaved badly, but that badly? Everyone had an opinion, not only on what he had done, but on what the incident revealed about sexual politics in the #MeToo era.
In the language of feminist theory, Ansariâs behavior fell somewhere on the âsexual violence spectrum.â This begins at one end with commonplace forms of sexual misbehavior (e.g., cat-calling, lewd comments, âmicroaggressionsâ) and extends all the way along to rape and sexualized torture and murder. The feminist claim is that everything on the sexual violence spectrum should be viewed as emanating from the same source, although some acts clearly cause more harm than others. While Ansari did not force Grace into sex, he did ignore her discomfort in a way that was arguably coercive. His behavior could therefore be placed somewhere towards the less severe end of the spectrum: worse than a misogynistic joke, but not as harmful as a sexual assault.
Now here is the paradox, and itâs something that Iâve often puzzled over during my years in feminist activism. Why do cases like Ansariâs receive so much attention among many feminists, particularly younger ones, while the most extreme end of the sexual violence spectrum is comparatively ignored?
This is not true across the board, of course. Sexual and domestic violence support services focus on victims with the greatest need, as do public bodies such as social services and the police. These on-the-ground organizations have (or at least should have) a clear system for prioritizing the victims of the most dangerous offenders. There are also plenty ofcommittedfeministcampaigners who take on the often thankless task of advocating on behalf of the most wretchedly abused women and girls. This isnât the place to go into detail about the deep divisions within the feminist movementâsuffice to say that the group of feminists who have most influence right now, the so-called âthird wave,â are the group Iâm concerned with here. These are the feminist voices that dominate the public sphereânewspapers, universities, social mediaâand itâs here that the paradox is most obvious.
Compare this with the approach to the sex trade. The way in which the Irish feminist campaigner Rachel Moran has been treated provides a particularly clear example of the paradox. Moran was 15 years old when she first started selling sex on the streets of Dublin and during the seven years she spent in prostitution she experienced some of the worst forms of sexual violence imaginable. She has since written a remarkable memoir about her experiences. And yet, far from being greeted with open arms by third wave feminists, Moran and many of the other women who describe themselves as âprostitution survivorsâ (they reject the term âsex workersâ) have faced a combination of indifference and outright hostility from the people you would expect to be their allies. Some self-proclaimed feminists even accused Moran of lying about having been in prostitution, forcing her to present evidence to defend her credibilityâso much for #BelieveHer.
Whether or not you think that prostitution is inherently abusive (as Moran does), the women involved face some of the highest rates of rape and murder of any group. Despite this, you will very often hear third wave feminists downplaying the harms of prostitution and ignoring the testimony of survivors who speak about its horrors. There is even an influential coterie who insist that the existence of sextrafficking isa myth. The same people who argue that Ansari shouldnât have made advances on Grace because she was obviously uncomfortable will defend the right of a man to buy sex from a woman who is only consenting because she needs to feed herself. How do we explain this contradiction?
There are several reasons for the paradox, one of which is fairly obvious: selection bias. The most prominent feminist voices within the media and academia are less likely than average to have experienced the extreme end of the sexual violence spectrum because they are disproportionately white, well off, able-bodied graduates. This is particularly true when it comes to prostitution, which almost exclusively affects women living in poverty. Although weâre all perfectly capable of extending compassion to people outside of our bubble, itâs not easy. Weâre all biased towards prioritizing our own (to use the well-worn jargon) âlived experience,â so of course a group of women who all went to university are going to be particularly concerned with the phenomenon of campus rape, just as prostitution survivors are going to be particularly concerned with abuses within the sex trade. The difference is, there are no prostitution survivors with columns in the New York Times.
But thatâs only a partial explanation for the paradox. There are other psychological forces at play too, affecting feminists and non-feminists alike.
The sad truth is thereâs very little media appetite for stories about the extreme end of the sexual violence spectrum, and for good reason. When I say âextreme,â I really mean itâitâs almost impossible to exaggerate the depravity of some of the crimes committed by men against women and girls. In the U.K. alone (where I live), I could mention the woman whose eyes were gouged out by her boyfriend, another woman who was buried alive by her partner, the teenager branded with the initial of her rapist, or the baby girl raped at two weeks old. Did you know that, in the last five years, the number of women beheaded by British men in the U.K. is greater than the number of Britons beheaded by ISIS? This is happening in the Western world right now, on our doorstep, and the situation is even worse in other parts of the world. I know this doesnât make pleasant readingâyou probably wonât follow the links and I donât blame youâbut sadly thatâs exactly why such cases usually receive very little attention in the national press, let alone international coverage. No one wants to read about such things. The normal human reaction is sadness, revulsion, and perhaps also a feeling of helplessness. There are things that can be done to alleviate the situationâmost of which involve better funding for refuges and public servicesâbut there are no quick fixes.
In contrast, reading about the Aziz Ansari case can be oddly satisfying, precisely because it involves controversy. Stories like this offer readers the opportunity to express their tribal loyaltiesâif you believe that the #MeToo movement has gone too far, you can use this as an example of feminists hounding an innocent man; if you think that Ansariâs behavior was a form of sexual violence, then youâll be enraged by those who trivialize it. Thereâs pleasure to be had in that heady feeling of righteousness.
Added to this is the effect of the Iron Law of Institutions, a term coined by the writer Jon Schwartz. Put simply, the law states that most people care more about their position within an institution than they do about the success of the institution as a whole. The result is behavior that looks bizarre from the outside, but makes perfect sense to those within a particular group. Schwartz initially used the term to describe the internal workings of the Democratic party, but his idea can just as easily be applied to political movements as well as political partiesâthird wave feminism, for instance.
Within such activist groups, individuals gain status by demonstrating their commitment to the causeâshowing themselves to be more pure, more radical, more woke than their rivals. The endlessly updating vocabulary is a manifestation of this: knowing that the correct nomenclature is âtrans womanâ rather than âtranswomanâ marks you out as a member of the woke elite, entitled to âcall outâ those beneath you in the hierarchy. The website Everyday Feminism is an excellent place to view this ideological arms race. The site regularly publishes articles that are so extreme theyâre almost beyond parodyâfor instance, insisting that itâs oppressive to expect activists to behave rationally, or scolding well-meaning supporters by telling them âyour tears take up too much space.â This kind of message does no good for the cause, since it alienates would-be allies. But there is an internal logic to it.
Within the most intense third wave feminist circles, individuals can increase their standing by demonstrating not only that theyâre purer than their contemporaries, but also purer than feminists who have gone before. I think this is where the perverse attitude towards the sex trade comes fromâmany young women associate anti-prostitution activism with the Christian Right, or else with older feminists they view as prudish old dinosaurs. Pro-prostitution activism therefore becomes a rational response, even if it is inconsistent with the rest of the worldview. Other horrors are defended for the same reason. Third wave feminists will often minimise the harms of female genital mutilation (the woke term is actually âcuttingâ rather than âmutilationâ) because criticism of it is associated with the Right and therefore branded as colonialist. Even though FGM causes unbearable suffering to women and girls of color, sometimes resulting in death, refusing to condemn the practice is seen as anti-racist. Such behavior looks bizarre from the outside, but it makes sense to those within the movement.
Itâs not that we should turn a blind eye to acts at the less severe end of the sexual violence spectrum. For what itâs worth, I think that Ansari behaved badly. I also dislike cat calling, sexist jokes, and other âmicroaggressions.â I even think that âmanspreadingâ merits some discussion.
The problem is what happens at the other end of the spectrum, where the worst kind of sexual violence is too often trivialized and ignored by those who should know better. The Aziz Ansari paradox hurts the feminist movement, and therefore also hurts vulnerable women and girls.