The Case for Talking to Your Dad About Feminism

Image credit: Laura Brown

This is a rallying call for women and femmes everywhere: talk to your dad about feminism.

It comes with health warnings that, I hope, go without saying: talk to your dad about feminism, but not if you have no — or an acrimonious — relationship with your dad; not if you don’t feel you have the mental health “spoons” for it; not if you don’t feel safe; not if you have tried a million times before and got nowhere…

But if you can, talk to your dad about feminism. For me, some of the most rewarding conversations about feminism I have had have been with Dad.

First, a reminder that feminists are not under a duty to educate anyone. ‘Concern trolls’ on the internet are exhausting and demand time and energy in feminist spaces, and they can jolly well go and Google topics for themselves. Can our dads though? I recently had to help a colleague not much older than my dad to Google from his smartphone. And will our dads find something reliable, or stray into dangerous, misogynistic zones of the internet which belittle feminism? This is why I suggest it is worth the conversation with our dads.

The biggest and most important reason to talk to your dad about feminism is because he probably fits into the overlapping Venn diagrams of people who can be depended on for love and respect on the one side, and people whose life experience is vastly different to yours on the other.

This difference of experience is what struck me when I first discussed feminism with Dad. That man has lived an interesting and full life, but has he ever been physically overpowered by a one-night stand when a difference of opinion over condom use escalated into violence? Has he politely smiled through insidiously crass comments deriding his gender, rather than risk confrontation with senior colleagues or tutors? No, he hasn’t. For him, a stranger suddenly gripping his hand on the bus would be a horrible shock, not an unremarkable journey home from a night out. The world I take for granted as the norm would be truly alien to him.

Over a few drinks with both of my parents, many of these differences came tumbling out. They have been working together for a number of years. But in all the time in their parallel careers Dad has never felt humiliated for his appearance, or been the only man at the table. The considered things he says don’t go through an automatic mental filter for shrillness, bitchiness, bossiness… What’s more, they get taken seriously by default, and listened to with respect. Probably more than ever before, as snowy white fluff takes over his salt and pepper hair. Unsurprisingly, Mum would not be able to say the same.

Dad’s eyes widened with real surprise. Emboldened, I joined in and we explored some parts of my life that had just never occurred to him. Things like the extra hurdle of my chosen line of work (like so many of them) being male-dominated as well as competitive. Hurtful speculation about my sex life. The fake engagement ring I wear for travelling and clubbing.

From one generation to the next, patriarchy has hung around, and my mum’s struggles with it broadly resemble mine. Conversations with friends or online networks about feminism risk becoming an echo chamber. While disagreement happens, it tends to be on points of nuance. Fundamentally, the experiential stuff is sadly common ground for many women and femmes of my age. We can share advice for self-care, and let each other know we got home safely. We know what it is like to hear comments about our bodies from strangers, to hold keys between our fingers, and to see ourselves and people like us held to impossible standards. Frankly, Dad does not have a clue.

This is not just about sharing the experience of femaleness, but doing so with a very particular audience. It’s Dad. This is where I know I can’t speak for everyone but, for me, Dad has always been a supporter and a protector (recently he was visiting and, because I was too afraid, he investigated an intruder in the garden which turned out to be my housemate having a stealthy cigarette). Even when I actively rebelled, I knew he cared. Even when he pointed out that my attempt at edgy eyeliner made me look like an Egyptian mummy. While I was still working out who I was, he was already proud of me. He can’t sit through to the father-daughter duet in Rigoletto, or even a trashy 2000s father-daughter wild horse movie without welling up a bit. I know beyond question that my sisters and I are treasured, and he’s not fostering secret resentment that we were not born boys. He played King Lear in a family production we put on to help my youngest sister revise for A-levels, and, honestly, was the most unbelievable amateur Lear you could ever see. So, although he cannot relate to much of what feminism addresses, he will care in his own way.

Admittedly, there is a certain trope which I feel is a very valid criticism of some men’s feminism: that a man should care because it could be his girlfriend, sister, mum, or daughter at risk. Clearly, yes, this is shallow and men should be engaged because patriarchy harms everyone, and women and femmes other than their wife or daughter matter too. It is also framed around the ickily possessive word “your”. I acknowledge that this is not a satisfactory way of raising the profile of feminism with men or dads. But what I will say is, it is a start to have a conversation.

There is another reason why it is worth talking to your dad about feminism. Who runs the world? I would love to believe it is girls, but looking around — it’s dads. Look at the composition of boardrooms, CEOs, senior judiciary; look past Prime Minister Theresa “there are boy jobs and girl jobs” May, to Parliament, where men outnumber women 2 to 1, and where women bear the brunt of extreme abuse; look at the world leaders’ stage, it is still men, and dads, who hold the lion’s share of wealth and power.

There is, of course, one dad who could do with a conversation about feminism with his daughter more than any other, and that is Donald J. Trump. Although Ivanka holds the role of senior advisor to the president, she recently disclaimed her ability to influence him. Ivanka’s personal brand of White Feminism™ and ineffectiveness at practising what she preaches are familiar and disappointing. It is hard to imagine her sitting down with her dad and discussing feminist issues, but the disparity between her official job title and seeming lack of ambition (or ability) to advise Trump on a progressive or feminist agenda is stark. I am not holding my breath for a constructive conversation to take place there, but it feels like the world’s biggest missed opportunity.

This has been my pitch for why women and femmes should talk to their dads about feminism. Even with a strong relationship, it won’t always be easy to express vulnerability. It is also frustrating to cover ground like “why is it called feminism and not equalism?” for what might seem like the millionth time. But this is the same question that David Cameron had as Prime Minister, and maybe it would help to answer it for him, and all the dads that genuinely don’t understand. Using online resources and mentally preparing what you do and don’t want to share are helpful, too.

Ultimately I hope that for you, like me, starting a conversation about feminism with your dad helps to deepen your relationship and mutual respect. My own dad has just messaged me a video of Justin Trudeau arguing for why men should be feminists; I think it’s working.

Ellie would rather read “Women And Power” and co-opt her proud father to write her bio.  Since her operatic arrival into this life, she never believed her world had a glass ceiling but rather a sky-light to the stars. Like Roald Dahl’s Matilda, she never thought the world was bigger or smarter than her. She would often have the last word – a neologism if nothing suitable was available. A hundred years ago she would have been prominent in the Women’s Suffrage Movement and today is an ardent supporter of the movement for women’s equality. Swing dance, music and theatre are some of the flavours in her particular brew.

Laura is a graduate of Duncan of Jordanstone College of Art & Design where she studied illustration. She is currently a freelance illustrator and sells her work in Dundee. Laura likes music, tea, animated shows, video games and Space. She enjoys making fun and interesting characters.