VOTE
A mindless lunchtime scroll through my Facebook feed is slowed by a picture of a co-worker holding an oversized postcard with VOTE emblazoned in bold block red letters on the front. After adding a quick comment thanking her for the timely message, I scan the other comments.
“Your shoes are EVERYTHING ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ !” “Absolutely stunning 💜 !” “Cute shoes 🔥 !!”
I refocus on the picture: my co-worker is seated on the front of her office desk in a navy blue dress holding the postcard in one hand, her shoulders are pulled back in perfect posture, long dark brown hair brushed to the front over her left shoulder, eyes smiling atop a colorful mask, legs dangling and gracefully crossed at the ankles, with neon fuschia high heel, closed-toe slingback sandals adorning her feet. Oh my! How did I miss those [admittedly fabulous] shoes?!
Of the twelve comments, ten are clearly about the shoes. Apparently only I and one other missed the memo directing us to reduce a message about democratic participation to exclamations about shoes. I have a sinking feeling — how can a plea to VOTE in 2020 be so easily supplanted by shoes?
At the 100th anniversary of the ratification of the 19th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution guaranteeing women the right to vote, perhaps my expectations are too high. Reducing women engaged in political activity to their attire or social role is nothing new. White women campaigning for the right to vote in the early 1900’s were portrayed by the opposition as being “too manly,” accused of wanting to take their husband’s place as the bread-winner and decision-maker of the family. Popular cartoons of the time portrayed wives in trousers abandoning their emasculated husbands, who wore aprons and were left holding (and feeding) the baby. Black suffragettes faced racism within the movement and from the opposition, often portrayed by negative racial stereotypes. In response to criticisms of the fitness of women to vote and fears of how the social order might be upset, suffragettes donned white dresses as a sign of feminine purity, reassurance they would use their female virtue to support, not supplant, men’s reign.
Ninety-six years later, Hillary Clinton and most women running for high (or low) political office were still subjected to stinging satire of their appearance. Hillary was derided for wearing pant suits, her ankles and calves ridiculed when she wore a dress, her hair parodied over the decades of her public service — as though all of this was confirming evidence she was unqualified to be President (or Senator, or Secretary of State).
I stare at the picture on Facebook again. Why is this accomplished, award-winning woman lauded with comments about her shoes instead of her message? I do imagine if a man wore neon fuschia high heel, closed-toe slingback sandals there would be comments about his shoes too, likely with a different tone, questioning his masculinity and sexuality.
Rigid gender roles continue to segregate the experiences of women and men (and deny the nonbinary). Culturally, women’s roles are communal, taking care of others, and men’s are agentic, making decisions and acting independently. In a nation that worships agency (and the myth of the self-made MAN), men who appear masculine are instantly seen as viable political leaders, with likeability or warmth an after-thought. Women in politics face the double-bind of how to be approachable and likeable (sufficiently feminine) while also being decisive and assertive (sufficiently masculine) without being labeled a “bitch.”
I catch myself wondering why my co-worker is seated on her desk to showcase a postcard. Would I wonder about this perch if the picture was of a male co-worker? Or would his pose immediately seem self-assured and authoritative? I look at the picture again with a new lens, seeing my co-worker as a confident purveyor of a powerful message — VOTE. I understand that my co-worker should be able to wear whatever shoes she wants to wear and sit wherever she wants to sit without it detracting from her message.
My co-worker is a White woman, privileged and devalued. Black and Latina women who express political agency are often accused of being angry or aggressive; social punishment is swift. Michelle Obama endures racist and sexist attacks for being a Black woman in America — her sleeveless shirts and toned arms portrayed as a call to revolution. Kamala Harris, a formidable debater and incisive orator, is labeled “nasty” and “a monster” by Trump and his followers. Other women of color in politics (from Maxine Waters to Stacey Abrams to Ilhan Omar to Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez to Michelle Lujan Grisham) are targeted for their race or ethnicity, their weight, their religion, and experience simultaneous presumed incompetence and violent retaliation for being competent. Nevertheless, they persist.
VOTE. My co-worker knows this right and responsibility was denied to women in the United States for 131 years (longer than women have had the right). She knows the voting rights of the most vulnerable and oppressed are endangered in the 2020 election and she passionately works for social justice. I hope those shoes are comfortable. We still have a long road ahead.
EL Bossert was raised on a small, quiet farm in the Midwest. EL is a professor, writes romance novels (two so far), and enjoys hiking and watching movies with friends.
