I. Introduction
Catherine MacKinnon famously holds that feminists should explode the private sphere.Footnote 1 MacKinnon does not explain what “exploding the private sphere” would or could be. But she raises various concerns about the private sphere. The private sphere is perhaps best understood in contrast to the public sphere. Matters kept or done in the private sphere should be regarded as personal or intimate, as secret from outsiders unless the person chooses to disclose it, and free from outside interference. By examining the #MeToo and #ShoutYourAbortion campaigns, I will argue for what exploding the private sphere might look like and why one might have good feminist reasons for doing it. These campaigns adopted an explosive—dramatic, large-scale, unsubtle, highly public, and high-profile—way of publicizing what was previously private. #MeToo and #ShoutYourAbortion asked women to share their personal and private experiences around sexual assault and abortion. These campaigns aimed to use shared stories and the power of collective action to challenge pernicious myths that still hold a firm grip on society. Myths like a short skirt or a few drinks mean yes. Or the body shuts down pregnancy if it is a “legitimate” rape. Or women who are sexually harassed just cannot take a joke. Or only that kind of women need abortions. Instead of raising new arguments against sexual harassment or in favor of abortion rights and access or revealing new statistical studies about the numbers and varied types of women who are harassed or assaulted or the numbers and varied types of women and people who get abortions and need reproductive care, these campaigns asked women to share their personal stories and they called upon the public to confront the publicly proclaimed experiences of individual women. In doing so, they sought to effect real political change in areas where reasoned argument had failed to do so.
The myths these campaigns aimed to counter suggest that women are to blame or at least partly responsible for whatever unfortunate situation they find themselves in. As such, this paper contends that one of the things these myths did is imply that women did not have standing to blame and criticize people or policy about sexual harassment and assault and abortion access. This paper argues that these campaigns set out to debunk the view that women did not have standing to blame, criticize, advocate, and agitate with respect to these wrongs and that in order to do so, they exploded the private sphere.
These myths can and do contribute to the oppression of women in at least these two ways. First, they can unjustly undermine women’s credibility, i.e., make it less likely that women will be believed when they share their stories of sexual harassment or positive experiences of abortion. This is a form of what Miranda Fricker calls testimonial injustice, which is now widely recognized. Second, they can unjustly undermine women’s standing, i.e., make it less likely that women will be granted the right to speak on these subjects, which can forestall the question of whether to believe what they say or not. This phenomenon has not been fully recognized or theorized about; it is a counterpart to, or perhaps a hitherto underappreciated form of, testimonial injustice. In this paper, my main interest is the second of these phenomena—the one that concerns women’s standing—and how the #MeToo and #ShoutYourAbortion campaigns worked to redress it. However, it is entirely possible, and consistent with what I say, that the myths have both effects, and hence work as a one-two punch: they license the response, “I don’t believe you [a denial of women’s credibility], and even if I did, you’ve no right to be saying it [a denial of women’s standing].” I will return to these two effects of the myths, and their relationship, in Section II.
This paper has three overall goals: (1) Show that part of what the #MeToo and #ShoutYourAbortion campaigns aimed to do was debunk the view that women did not have standing with respect to matters concerning sexual harassment and assault and abortion. (2) Use my analysis of these campaigns and their debunking strategy to vindicate a version of MacKinnon’s view that we should explode the private sphere. (3) Use my analysis of these campaigns to show that there is not a meaningful conflict between (i) this view of MacKinnon’s and (ii) Gavison’s (Reference Ruth1992) (among others)Footnote 2 view that privacy is valuable for women. Moreover, this paper aims to reveal a hitherto unnoticed way in which women are oppressed—that is, by having standing norms weaponized against them. This use of standing wrongs women in their capacity as testifiersFootnote 3, but not strictly by undermining their credibility, rather, by undermining their standing to be testifiers.
The paper proceeds as follows. It begins by laying out and developing MacKinnon’s criticisms of the private sphere as set out in her discussion and critique of the Roe decision. Section II takes up goal 1 and argues that by revealing what was private, women proved that they had standing to blame and criticize. This interpretation of the campaigns also provides an explanation of why the bare anonymized statistics about sexual harassment and abortion were (seemingly) not enough to change hearts and minds. Section III is dedicated to goals 2 and 3. It argues that women’s collective revelation of their personal experiences is plausibly a form of exploding the private sphere. It also analyses the campaigns to show that privacy is valuable to women, but that does not speak against MacKinnon’s view that we should explode the private sphere.
II. Section I: Mackinnon and Exploding the Private Sphere
MacKinnon’s famous criticism of the private sphere comes through her criticism and discussion of the previous legal regulation of abortion in the United States, specifically the Roe v. Wade Footnote 4 decision and the subsequent Harris v. McRae Footnote 5 decision. She argues that the decision by the U.S. Supreme Court to grant the right to abortion as part of the right to privacy was not the feminist victory many thought. The justification for the decision was that the right to privacy protected women’s decisional right to choose whether or not to abort their fetuses. Before Roe, the concept of privacy had been used in the United States to decriminalize contraceptives between married couples, and privacy existed as a constitutional principle.Footnote 6 MacKinnon argues that one reason we can tell that the decision in Roe was not the feminist victory we wanted is partly because the later decision in Harris was, she contends, completely in keeping with the decision in Roe. And Harris in MacKinnon’s view is a clear loss for the feminists. So, if the decision in Harris is in keeping with Roe, then Roe cannot be a feminist victory. The Roe decision protected women’s right to choose abortion. However, in the Harris decision, the Supreme Court decided that the State did not need to provide funding through Medicaid for abortions. As MacKinnon points out, the decision in Roe is not based on women’s right to equality, and so abortion access is not recognized as fundamental to women gaining equality in the United States. And so, at least MacKinnon thinks, the court was destined to decide the way it did in Harris. The State, said Roe, needed to protect the privacy of women deciding, but did not need to help or support women in accessing abortion. And so came Harris.
But it is not just that Roe was decided on grounds of privacy rather than a more substantive understanding of equality or freedom. MacKinnon goes further in her criticism and seems to suggest that deciding abortion under the auspices of privacy actually benefits men (perhaps even more than women) because now powerful men can get women abortions. She situates the discussion of abortion access within the patriarchal context, claiming that most liberal discussions of abortion proceed “as if the woman just happened on the fetus” (MacKinnon 94). She wants us to see that sexual interactions between men and women do not happen on an equal playing field of power. Sex and abortion often occur in contexts where women feel coerced or pressured to have sex with men because, say, their dates bought them dinner or they went back to their date’s place after dinner.Footnote 7 This part of her analysis is important because she sees the privacy justification in the Roe decision as another way of making women available for sex. After all, men will not have to deal with the consequences of sex because the man can get the woman an abortion. Girlfriends and mistresses can access abortions via the wealthy and powerful men in their lives. This eliminates the consequences of sex for powerful men.
For MacKinnon ( Reference MacKinnon1987 ), the law of privacy protects “… the individual bodily integrity, personal exercises of moral intelligence and freedom of intimacy” (97) of men, but she stresses that no one seems interested in those guarantees for women. She continues, “the right of privacy is a right of men ‘to be let alone’ to oppress women one at a time” (102). Men’s privacy and men’s private sphere are in tension with women’s privacy and women’s private sphere. In many ways, this is similar to MacKinnon’s criticism of pornography—men’s and pornographers’ free speech is promoted and protected at the expense of women’s free speech. That’s why she says pornography silences women, literally.Footnote 8 In the case of privacy, she thinks, in a patriarchal society, women need to not be left alone.
MacKinnon has two types of criticisms against privacy. First, there is the concern that the existence of a private sphere brings with it the opportunity for and vulnerability to particular kinds of harm. This is the classic feminist critique of the private sphere, which recognized that the protection of privacy enables certain kinds of harms to women to occur.Footnote 9 Thus the assertion that the family belongs to the private sphere—meaning a space in which what happens is personal (the responsibility and interest only of the family), inaccessible to outsiders, and free from interference (both regulation by the State and accountability to the State and society generally)—has exposed women to particular harms, such as domestic violence, marital rape, and the costs of unequal domestic labor, and has left women with no obvious recourse in the face of such harms (“it’s a family matter—best not ask about it, best let them sort it out”). Consider domestic labor. Classifying domestic labor as a private matter or a public one does not necessarily entail a particular division of that labor—if the decision is a private family matter, an individual family may choose to divide the household responsibilities in a variety of ways. But if the decision is a private matter, outsiders (including the State) are less likely to interfere with it or hold the family accountable for it. The very nature of privacy makes private matters difficult to reform except on an individual case-by-case basis. The only way to address the unequal burden placed on women is to hope that individual persons will make different decisions. That, in turn, means that the same old gendered division of labor is often adopted (if only out of tradition or habit) and then (as a private decision) protected. If, in contrast, the division of domestic labor is a public matter, the unequal burden placed on women can be addressed by calling people to account for their division of domestic labor, by regulating to alleviate some of the burdens placed on women (e.g., by offering financial incentives to men to take paternity leave, a model adopted in Sweden), and by promoting public discussion, review, and criticism of the issue. The call to reclassify a private matter as public can be a powerful way of challenging the injustice of the status quo and makes good on MacKinnon’s criticism. The move from private to public forces a reckoning on a wider scale. That may stigmatize conduct that has hitherto been considered normal (such as the sexual harassment of women in the workplace), or it may normalize conduct that had been considered shameful (such as abortion). And so the push into the public forum can change society’s attitudes and approaches towards conduct once thought to be none of its business. Notably this concern applies however we define the content of the private sphere—that is, by designating a sphere as personal, inaccessible, and free from interference, it follows that persons’ conduct within that sphere will be unknown, unobserved, and invisible, and not controlled by, or accountable to, the State or public opinion.Footnote 10
The second concern is one about how we define the content of the private and public spheres and, specifically, a concern that the selection and presentation of the division between private and public is problematic. It has to do with the way we think and talk about the sort of thing the private sphere is and what is implied and communicated when someone says that abortion (or anything) is a private matter. Privacy is classically understood to protect our interest in controlling our image and the use of our property,Footnote 11 and having our privacy protected ensures our ability to form intimate and trusting relationshipsFootnote 12. And so what is private calls for a presumption of noninterference.Footnote 13 The choice between what belongs in the public sphere and the private sphere is often presented as carving nature at its joints (as though the private could be discovered at the end of our microscopes), which has the consequence that the division is not up for discussion (and thus it is not for us to decide what should be personal, inaccessible, and not interfered with, or not). But, of course, there is no natural and self-announcing division between public and private. This is what the famous feminist battle cry “the personal is political” means. Yes, the choices we make in our personal lives are political, and the personal is a matter of justice. For example, where we buy clothing from—shopping second-hand and participating in “no buy” months could be a protest against fast fashion, consumerism, bad labor practices, environmental degradation, and so on. We do not have to be in the public square to be engaged in politics. But perhaps more importantly, “the personal is political” reminds us that the choice about what is personal is political in that it reflects political values. Thus, the decision, for example, to characterize the allocation of domestic labor as private (one for individual families to make) reflects a political choice not to interfere with, observe, or hold to account matters that happen inside the family with a particular notion of the family in mind.Footnote 14
MacKinnon contends that the parts of our lives that are shunted to the private sphere are lost to secrecy, shame, and isolation. Women and pregnant people will not be able to get together and talk—discuss their experiences of pregnancy, abortion, and sexual assault, among other things. The private sphere keeps women from each other. It precludes women and pregnant people from having that “aha” moment with each other where they confirm each other’s experiences and validate their choices. “Yes, my abortion was good for me. I do not regret my decision.” Instead, women are left on their own to grapple with how they felt about their choices and what society seems to say about abortions: that they are immoral and shameful, perhaps sometimes permittable but always regrettable. This isolation not only prevents women and pregnant people who have had abortions from connecting, but it also prevents them from acting collectively to challenge the legal regulation and pernicious norms surrounding abortion. So, the private sphere lets the harms to women fester and remain out of reach for mutual aid and bonding. And it leaves them to the mercy of the men in their lives—the men in their private spheres. This is why MacKinnon says that the Roe decision only gives women what the men in their lives will give them. There is the assumption that relationships in the private sphere are founded on intimacy, and the intimacy is protective and means just, good, kind relationships.Footnote 15 But, of course, this is not necessarily the case.
Classifying abortion as a private matter—one that is not to be interfered with by the state—protects the right to choose, but it does so in a very specific (and limited) sense. The treatment of abortion as a private matter has also had other effects. Abortion has long been surrounded in secrecy, not least because of the shaming, criticism, and dehumanization of women and persons who have chosen to speak out about their experiences of abortion. The same is true of sexual harassment and assault. Many women refrain from sharing their experiences in these areas publicly (or even amongst friends). That silence is understandable, but it has allowed many pernicious views to persist or go unchallenged—that only careless or loose women need abortions; that only easy women get assaulted; that those who complain about sexual harassment are uptight and cannot take a joke. And so the feminist critique and even the more radical claim of explosion from MacKinnon is powerful. In what follows, I aim to bolster those claims.
It is important to be precise about the aspects of MacKinnon’s argument against privacy I want to bolster and how I see MacKinnon and Gavison as not in tension. I take it that part of MacKinnon’s project is to make a legal argument about using the right to privacy to ground abortion access in the United States.Footnote 16 Specifically, she seems to be contending that had the courts made their decision based on equality, then abortion would have had better legal protection in the United States rather than the flimsy protection offered by privacy. So, legally speaking, abortion rights would have been better off in the United States if the court had gone another way, specifically via equality, and seemingly, Harris would have been decided differently. As Gavison (Reference Ruth1992) points out in her analysis of MacKinnon, it seems unlikely that basing abortion protection in equality rights would have offered more protection. Here, I agree with Gavison in her criticism—it was not exactly privacy’s fault that abortion got such feeble protection; it seems almost inevitable in the context of the United States. A large issue seems to be that abortion is not an enumerated right and is a highly political issue.Footnote 17 But MacKinnon is also making a moral/political point about privacy and the private sphere, which justify her claims that we ought to explode it. It is this aspect of MacKinnon’s argument that I want to support. I want to show that this part of her argument is not in tension with Gavison’s claim that privacy is important for women, and—moreover—that MacKinnon’s argument relies on the value and importance of privacy for women. That is, if privacy were not valuable for women, we could not explode the private sphere.
III. Section II: #MeToo, #ShoutYourAbortion, and Standing
In this section, I argue that part of what the #MeToo and #ShoutYourAbortion campaigns did was set out to debunk the view that women did not have standing with respect to matters concerning sexual harassment and assault and abortion. This section uses the campaigns to demonstrate how standing norms have been used to oppress women. By thinking about standing in relation to the myths and the campaigns, we can make sense of why the campaigns appeared to have had more impact than the statistics surrounding these matters did. And so this analysis has explanatory power. Now, it may also be the case that these sorts of stories just in and of themselves have more political purchase and that, given the type of beings we are, stories from people we know do more to move and motivate us. Moreover, #MeToo, in some of the more high-profile cases, resulted in multiple complaints against the same man, for example, Harvey Weinstein. Repeated complaints make each complaint more credible, which makes each woman more likely to be believed and less likely to face retaliation. It also increases the likelihood that third parties will take action against these men and has even resulted in the charge and conviction of a few men. However, the convictions of WeinsteinFootnote 18 and Bill CosbyFootnote 19 have recently been overturned.
#ShoutYourAbortion was largely a Twitter campaign led by the journalist and political commentator Lindy West and activists Amelia Bonow and Kimberly Morrison.Footnote 20 The campaign, as one might guess, asked women to publicly acknowledge—shout—that they had had an abortion and to provide some details of the experience. The motivation behind the campaign was, in large part, an effort to normalize abortion and to undermine the stigma and shame that still largely surrounds the procedure.Footnote 21 The campaign also set out to undermine the idea that only a certain kind of woman chooses to have an abortion and that their experiences of abortion are largely negative. The tactics of this campaign were a positive attempt to change the way the public regards and how the State regulates abortion.
The phrase “Me Too” was first used on social media by activist Tarana Burke in 2006 to empower women, particularly women of color, who were victims of sexual violence and assault.Footnote 22 In 2017, #MeToo became a viral hashtag when it was tweeted by Alyssa Milano and other women. It asked women to identify themselves as “MeToo” insofar as they had experienced sexual assault and harassment, particularly in the workplace. Much like the #ShoutYourAbortion campaign, the #MeToo movement aimed to alter society’s perception, in this case of sexual harassment and assault, including its perception of the types of women who are harassed or assaulted and the frequency of these experiences, and to shift that perception to better reflect reality.
MacKinnon observed that the #MeToo campaign had achieved what sexual harassment laws had thus far failed to.Footnote 23 According to MacKinnon, the #MeToo campaign worked to wear down two big barriers in “life and law” to ending sexual harassment: “the disbelief” and the “trivializing dehumanization of its victims.”Footnote 24 How did the campaign do this? By forcing society to confront the experiences of women en masse in respect of a matter that hitherto had largely been regarded as private, and in doing so, attempt to debunk myths that denied women standing on these matters.
What is it to say that women do not have standing? What is standing? Questions about standing are, roughly, about which persons occupy the correct position to perform some act rightfully or make some judgment of another’s action.Footnote 25 Such questions arise in law, philosophy, and everyday life. The law asks who has the standing to bring a constitutional challenge. Moral philosophers ask who is in a position to blame or forgive. A person may reply to their judgmental friend, “Look who’s talking. Are you really in any position to criticize me?” These issues of standing are separate questions from whether or not the challenge has merit, whether the action is blameworthy or forgivable, or whether the friend’s criticism is valid. Questions about standing are not concerned directly with such matters but with the speaker’s right to speak to such matters. The point of questions about standing is that not just anyone can bring the claim, or blame, or forgive, or criticize. We need to find the right person, the person with standing.
The philosophical literature has examined standing to blame, criticize, call to account, as well as standing to praise and forgive. What I have in mind here is a similarly capacious category of action that seems to require standing. Women—so the myths imply—do not have standing to blame their assaulter, do not have standing to criticize legal regulation of abortion services, do not have standing to ask the state to intervene, do not have standing to criticize rape culture, and so on.Footnote 26 Standardly, philosophers argue that someone loses standing to blame or criticize for these reasons: (1) One’s blame would be hypocritical. (2) One was involved in the person’s wrongdoing. (3) The person’s wrongdoing is none of one’s business.Footnote 27 As we will see, all three standing norms have been used against women. The myths paint a picture of women as hypocrites or codefendants such that they do not have standing. Moreover, the myths suggest that things are not morally straightforward, and so the public should stay out of it—it is not our business. The precise version of the claim will depend on the specifics of the case. For example, someone who insists that a woman who accuses her boss of sexual harassment continued to work for him and accept raises as a way to undermine the woman implies (among other things) that the women benefitted from the attention she received at work and so cannot complain about it now. That woman’s criticism would be hypocritical, and so she does not have standing. The myths say: Only sluts and women of a certain type need abortions.Footnote 28 Women dress provocatively at work and like the attention. Women use their sexual power to get ahead. The body will shut down pregnancy if it is a “legitimate” rape.Footnote 29 What these myths accuse women of is being somehow complicit in any wrongdoing that may have happened, responsible for whatever situation they find themselves in, and of being hypocrites with questionable moral records.Footnote 30 Therefore, they are not in a position to rightfully complain about it. The #ShoutYourAbortion and #MeToo campaigns attempted to undo these myths—with personal stories from all sorts of women in all sorts of situations—and thereby set out to debunk the view that women do not have standing.Footnote 31
It is worth pausing here and reflecting on why it might be beneficial to deny that women have standing on these matters. Remember, when someone’s standing is questioned, one is able to skirt the discussion of the substance of the debate.Footnote 32 Undermining and questioning standing can be a useful strategy in moral and political arguments and debates. To begin with, it tends to be far easier to attack a political opponent’s standing to speak than it is to disprove or discredit their claims.Footnote 33 This can be a particularly valuable tool where there is deep and divisive disagreement and where it seems futile to try to convince dissenters and even good faith opponents that their position is incorrect or based on a mistake. Attacking the standing of those on the opposing side, however, offers a different strategy and a different kind of critique. One can ignore the substance of the question or debate, call into question some advocate’s standing, and thereby attack the speaker’s right to speak and undermine whatever they might say or even have said in the past.Footnote 34 An example of a debate that seems characterized by this sort of polarization is abortion access and reproductive rights. Those on the pro-choice side may never convince some antichoice believers that abortion is permissible, but we may be able to dismiss, undermine, and even silence, a conservative politician who condemns abortion—including in the eyes of the politician’s supporters—by exposing that politician’s hypocrisy (say, by revealing that they recently paid for a girlfriend’s abortion) and thereby attacking their standing to speak. The thought is that while we may never agree about the moral permissibility of abortion, we can all agree that hypocrisy is intolerable and the hypocrite has no standing to tell us what to do. Another strategic benefit of merely questioning someone’s standing is that we do not engage with the substance of what is being said and can therefore stay at arm’s length from it and not commit ourselves to any particular view on the matter and maintain plausible deniability should some unsavory view be attributed to us.Footnote 35 The benefit of this type of criticism is perhaps especially valuable with respect to matters of sexual assault, harassment, and abortion access. One need not reveal that one has perhaps extremely misogynistic views about rape or abortion. Rather, one can just point out that we all agree that if you are a hypocrite—like the woman who dresses “provocatively” at work for advantages and then complains when she gets unwanted attention—you cannot rightfully complain. True, this is also a sexist view, but its antihypocrisy flavor makes it more palatable.Footnote 36 There is surely a spectrum of out-and-out sexist views to the more subtle ones. There are perhaps some views that even seriously regressive groups would not publicly endorse, but there are others—like the versions of these myths I have been discussing—that people will publicly endorse.
In politics and in daily life, we are familiar with criticisms that question standing—accusations of hypocrisy and/or complicity (surely part of what some of these myths did) and claims that the topic is none of our business are all claims that call into question the target’s standing. And when our standing is questioned, a potentially successful reply is to demonstrate that one does, in fact, have standing. I with Whelan (2023) discuss this aspect of standing in the context of the accusation of hypocrisy to support a feminist case against attacking a supposed hypocrite’s standing. Consider our example: Imagine a woman who publicly advocates for the normalization of abortion and the breakdown of secrecy around abortion. Is she required to disclose her reproductive history in order to make this claim? If she refuses to do so, she may well be accused of hypocrisy. Thus, her standing to advocate for reproductive rights may be impugned.Footnote 37 In order to prove that she has standing, she would have to reveal what she had kept private, namely her reproductive history. The point is more general: when our standing is questioned—say because we are accused of hypocrisy—a way to regain our standing or prove that we never lost it is to make some personal revelation that responds to the accusation or acts as an explanation. When we consider how being candid or making public revelations is often a way to demonstrate that we have standing, we can see better how #MeToo and #ShoutYourAbortion are partly responses to having women’s standing questioned. The parallels between the individual case and the collective case should become apparent.
Sometimes, revealing what was private to prove one has standing is not that difficult, but other times, it can be quite onerous. The #MeToo and #ShoutYourAbortion asked women to reveal what was previously private in an attempt, I argue, to prove women had standing. And this was an onerous ask. Indeed, undoubtedly, the collective action aspect of the campaigns was intended to protect the women and people who participated. There is safety in numbers. I am suggesting that many of the myths surrounding abortion and sexual harassment had a similar effect to an accusation of hypocrisy in that they undermined women’s standing. And the campaigns involved women collectively revealing what was private to prove their standing. But the point is broader—women are often called upon, or required, to give up their privacy and expose themselves in ways that make them more vulnerable even where there is no valuable political movement. They are required to expose information that is typically regarded as personal and intimate so that we can decide if they are trustworthy, reliable, and worthy of respect. This is often reflected in the way the media approaches politicians’ “family lives.” A female politician who does not have children (surely a private matter) is called to account for this; a male politician with many affairs and heirs does not have to answer for this because it is a private matter.Footnote 38 A female politician with children is asked how she will handle her childcare arrangements, whereas no inquiries are made into a male politician’s arrangements. Privacy is a privilege and one that women are often pressured to give up. Thus, women are forced to forgo the protections that privacy can offer.
The myths that #MeToo and #ShoutYourAbortion set out to dislodge from public consciousness painted women as complicit and hypocritical, and thereby questioned women’s standing to blame and criticize with respect to issues of sexual harassment and assault and abortion access. The tweets of #MeToo and #ShoutYourAbortion aimed at exposing them for just what they were—pernicious myths. And they set out to prove that women had standing, just like an individual woman who advocates for abortion normalization may have to reveal her reproductive history to prove she has standing.
#MeToo and #ShoutYourAbortion also gave the public standing. Traditionally, reproductive choices and sexual activity were and often still are considered private matters. As we saw in Section I, what is private is often considered out of bounds for strangers and state intervention. This is famously what kept the state and criminal law from intervening in cases of domestic violence. It was a matter between a man and his wife to sort out. It was their private business. Now, we might all agree that violence where a wrongdoer physically harms their victim is a clear case where the state should intervene, and so insofar as women were experiencing violence, then it is not a private matter, and so everyone has standing. But we have to remember the work of these myths is to muddy the water so it does not seem so straightforward. Sometimes, the myths work to highlight all sins and missteps of the victim so we care less about them or think the perpetrator may have been justified. And so we might come to conclude that any particular situation is too complicated for us to assess one way or the other, so we will just stay out of it. And so, the myths themselves use the shield of the private sphere to keep intervention and questioning at bay. But when these campaigns put a spotlight on the issues and put personal stories in the public square, they made them everyone’s business. And they thereby gave everyone standing. Women were thought to lack standing because they were thought to flunk the nonhypocrisy and/or noncomplicity conditions, and the public lacked standing because they were thought to flunk the business condition (but now they explicitly satisfy it).
I want to return now to the relationship between the credibility tactic of the myths and the standing tactic of the myths that I briefly mentioned in the introduction. Certainly, part of what the myths around sexual assault and harassment and abortion did is contribute to a culture in which women will not be believed should they speak up about their experiences and/or assault and generally undermine women’s credibility. My arguments here about standing should not be understood as challenging this view. Rather, examining the role of suppressing women by attacking their standing is complementary to examining how the myths undermine their credibility. Perhaps the latter is/was the main goal, so to speak, of these myths. But I would press that much of what these myths did was victim-blame, and part of what we do when we victim-blame is say that what happened is the victim’s fault—and hence that they lack the standing to blame or criticize the person who wronged them. Consider some victim-blaming responses to a report of a sexual assault: “Why did you go back to his apartment?” “Had you been drinking?” “Why were you alone with him?” “What did you do to get him to stop?” One interpretation of these questions seems to be that the inquirer is suggesting via their question that they suspect that the woman really did consent, and so there was no assault. This interpretation claims that the questions go to the truth of the woman’s accusation. There is, however, another interpretation of the questions where they do not so much go to the truth of the woman’s testimony but rather the role the woman played in the events. For example, the questions might be suggesting that because, say, the woman went to his hotel room, it was reasonable for the man to think that the woman was consenting. And so, his actions, while regrettable, are actually her fault, and she, therefore, cannot now rightfully blame him or ask for legal intervention. Another plausible interpretation of the question is that they see the woman contributing to the man’s actions, although perhaps not making it reasonable for him to think she consented, but that she engaged in risky behavior herself and so now has to deal with the consequences. The idea seems to be that “you’ve been playing with fire and so cannot complain about getting burnt.”Footnote 39 It would be hypocritical for you to now object to the man’s behavior. One can see how the strategy of undermining a woman’s credibility and denying her standing work together to silence her. This reiterates the importance of my project, which sets out to show how undermining women’s standing and denying women’s credibility work together to undermine women’s capacity as testifiers, which silences and excludes them.
IV. Section III: Exploding the Private Sphere
The previous section argued that the pernicious myths surrounding sexual harassment and assault and abortion were an obstacle to the recognition of women’s standing. And that one of the aims of the #MeToo and #ShoutYourAbortion campaigns was to quash the idea that women did not have standing. The first half of this section argues that women’s collective revelation of personal experiences was a form of exploding the private sphere. The second portion of the section contends that advocating for the explosion of the private sphere, like I and MacKinnon have done, does not entail denying the value of privacy. In fact, it is because privacy is valuable that the explosion worked! In making this argument, this section shows that MacKinnon ( Reference MacKinnon1987 ) and Gavison (Reference Ruth1992) are not in substantial disagreement about the value of privacy for women.
A) Exploding the Private Sphere
The subject matter of both these campaigns has long been regarded as largely private matters. Sexual activities, experiences, and abortion have been seen to be matters that are and should be personal, inaccessible, and free from the interference of outsiders. Moreover, there was (and likely still is, at least to some extent) a societal expectation that these matters would and should be kept private. Indeed, these are matters in respect of which we often desire privacy. But, as the feminist critique identified, this privacy made women vulnerable to peculiar kinds of harms, and it obscured the nature and scale of those harms, allowing such harms to continue and the victims to go without redress. Both the #ShoutYourAbortion campaign and the #MeToo campaign are powerful examples of the way in which making private matters public can shift public debate and shift the public’s approach to, and the State’s regulation of, such matters.Footnote 40
The power of the #MeToo and #ShoutYourAbortion campaigns lay in the demand to end this silence and upend the expectation of silence. These campaigns rightly recognized that the secrecy around these matters and the lack of public interference was harmful. There is, as feminists have long recognized, great power in bringing private matters into the public forum and demanding that the public face the reality of women’s experiences. The campaigns sought to use women’s personal stories to make private matters public, to force society to reckon with women’s experiences of sexual harassment and assault and their experiences of abortion, and to call on society to treat these matters differently. They also provided a forum for redress. The hope was that when confronted with these personal stories en masse, society would not be able to discount these women (unless they were all liars or all the exception) and society would be forced to overhaul its understanding and perceptions of these issues.
Having women participate in these campaigns challenges the norms and expectations surrounding these experiences and causes a reckoning. And just as keeping things private and out of bounds for intervention maintains and supports the status quo, dragging things into the public square challenges and may even be able to upend the status quo. If people thought that sexual harassment was not that common, if that was the status quo belief or view, then #MeToo personally contested that. These campaigns were able to demand change and give women standing in a way that the bare statistics, for example, the fact that one in four women in Canada experience sexual harassment in the workplace, did not (maybe could not?).Footnote 41
Why should we think of the collective revelations from women as exploding the private sphere?
There are a few reasons this interpretation makes sense:
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1. The flouting of the norms of “keeping quiet” about these sorts of things.
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2. The aims of these campaigns themselves—alleviate shame, stamp out pernicious norms, challenge the status quo. All these aims are bold and, if successful, would be paradigm shifts.
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3. The particularly public nature of these disclosures: They were not one-on-one in-person disclosures. They were tweets or Facebook status updates. They were shared indiscriminately, permanently, and recorded in a way to make them readily accessible.
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4. The call for public and state intervention.
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5. The voluntary nature of these campaigns.
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6. The collective action of them.
What unites these reasons is the way they mirror and respond to MacKinnon’s criticism of the Roe decision—everything she was worried the private sphere would deny women, these campaigns sought to give back to women. Remember, MacKinnon argued that putting abortion in the private sphere would isolate women from each other, prevent them from affirming each other’s experiences, leave them susceptible to shame and isolation, and inhibit collective action. The strategy of these campaigns acknowledges and exposes the dangers lurking in the protection of privacy and directly challenges them. Women and pregnant people came together (at least virtually) to share their stories and claim their abortions. As many feminist critiques point out, the veneration of privacy has made women vulnerable to peculiar kinds of harms and obscured the nature and scale of those harms. These campaigns exploded the private sphere and the shared illusion of the perception of the private sphere.
Sometimes, what we mean when we say things are private is that there is an expectation that we will keep those things secret or to ourselves. This is especially true when the matter in question is one often thought to be shameful. Being a victim of sexual assault and a person who needs or wants an abortion is one of these things—they are both experiences surrounded in shame, and in both experiences, the societal narrative is that we should keep it to ourselves. While the women who participated in #MeToo and #ShoutYourAbortion gave up privacy in all of its senses, these matters were no longer just personal, inaccessible, or free from interference. Indeed, these campaigns were calls for public and state intervention: state and public intervention with respect to redress for victims of sexual harassment and assault, and state and public intervention for the choice architecture surrounding access to reproductive care and abortion.Footnote 42 It is the notion of private bound up with shameful and secret that was the target for lasting explosion. Indeed, it is plausible to think that one goal of the #ShoutYourAbortion campaign was for abortion care to be seen as healthcare such that it comes to be seen as on a par with having knee replacement surgery—some people will be comfortable sharing and some will not. But it will depend on the person rather than on a presumption in favor of keeping abortions secret.
We should thus see that along with undermining women as testifiers, these myths also undermined women’s standing. This latter effect of the myths is an undertheorized component of women’s oppression. Additionally, I have argued that women’s collective revelation of personal experiences challenged and countered these myths and that these personal revelations were a form of exploding the private sphere. And so, MacKinnon was right that we feminists should explode the private sphere. But concluding that we should explode the private sphere is not to deny the value of privacy. That is what I will argue in the next subsection.
B) The Value of Privacy
Ruth Gavison (Reference Ruth1992), in her article about feminism and privacy, criticizes MacKinnon’s views on Roe and privacy and the private sphere. Gavison’s argument seems to rest on the claim that privacy is important and is even, perhaps especially, important for women. Gavison suggests that only if one thinks that privacy is not valuable for women would one urge the explosion of the private sphere. But this is a mistake. Indeed, it is because privacy is valuable that there is any possibility of exploding the privacy sphere. The value of privacy helps cause the explosion. The point is made clearer by considering privacy in the context of these campaigns.
The #ShoutYourAbortion and #MeToo campaigns turned women’s private experiences into a kind of capital. That is a powerful thing—the campaigns gave women the power to wield their personal experience to effect real change. But it also required women to decide whether to employ that capital in the service of the movement or not. This created a choice where previously there had been none and a burden to justify that choice even if only to oneself. Women were not explicitly pressured into making disclosures of their private experiences, but they were called upon to decide whether to disclose or not. These campaigns posited that silence and cover-ups are part of the problem, and they sought to address that problem by calling on women to speak up. In that context, the decision to remain silent takes on new significance. When silence is part of that problem, there is a kind of normative pressure to come forward so as to help advance the laudable goals of the movement. Deciding whether or not to participate, and if so, how and when, was a weighty decision for many women. Uma Thurman, who had not (then) participated in the #MeToo movement, was asked on television for her thoughts on it and refused to comment (beyond stating that such women were commendable): she said that she would say what she had to say when she felt less angry (undoubtedly recognizing how angry women are often dismissed in the media and by the public). While many women posted on Facebook short descriptions of their experiences with the caption #MeToo, this, in turn, prompted other women to explain why they had decided not to make their experiences public. Many women undoubtedly felt that it was too emotionally and practically risky for them to come forward, no matter their sympathy for the movement. And no doubt some simply felt that women should not have to expose themselves in this way.
The goals of these campaigns were laudable. And their strategy was certainly not to pressure women into disclosing their personal experiences, but rather to empower them to do so as part of a movement of solidarity and sisterhood. Nevertheless, each campaign was a call for women to sacrifice their privacy and to do so about matters that remain contentious and often attract stigma and shame (albeit that the campaigns themselves might help to change that). Only two weeks after shouting her abortion, cofounder of the campaign, Amelia Bonow, was doxed and received death threats over what was then Twitter (now X). Lindy West, another cofounder, received hate mail from those who are antiabortion. The decision to shout their abortions made women vulnerable. Similarly, #MeToo asked women to bear the public scrutiny that attends public revelation (including claims that the woman ought not to be believed or that what happened does not count as sexual harassment, or when a woman accuses someone famous, that she is just after her fifteen minutes of fame or is a gold digger) and also to relive their encounter. These are not trivial burdens to bear in aid of a political movement.
It is also worth noting that pushing for social change with the sharing of personal stories tends to be especially costly for those who have little power or visibility. They are often the ones with the stories to tell. Cis men who want to be part of the pro-choice movement cannot shout their abortions. No matter how much they endorse a woman’s and pregnant person’s right to choose, they will not be asked to reveal whether they have had an abortion, and they will not risk the stigmatization that comes with revealing they have had one. Modern society still stigmatizes abortions and the people who have them. Pregnant people who publicly acknowledge that they have had this procedure face the risk of public shaming and censure from anonymous mobs online. What’s more, in many communities, abortion remains a contentious issue, and so people who are willing to shout their abortions risk hostile personal encounters and judgment. They also risk expulsion from communities where abortions are considered deeply wrong. We should not assume, for example, that a woman who has had an abortion cannot also find great value and importance in the tradition and relationships within her religious community, even if her religious community would not accept her abortion. “Outing” herself as someone who has had an abortion could sever that important connection and result in a serious loss for that person.Footnote 43 The woman who shouts her abortion or tweets #MeToo loses the protection that privacy would afford her. She loses control over whether she is seen as a woman who has had an abortion or been the victim of a sexual assault. Indeed, she risks what Alice MacLachlan (Reference MacLachlan2012) calls “excerption.”Footnote 44 That is, she risks having her whole self and personality reduced or equated to this one fact about her—that she had an abortion or that she is a victim of sexual harassment. Excerption can undermine our sense of dignity and self. Monica Lewinsky in the late 1990s had her identity excerpted as a “sex scandal” and footnote to the Clinton Presidency. Further, being known as a woman “of that sort” has significant costs in many social groups in our world (albeit that it should not)—once publicly disclosed, her abortion or sexual harassment is not something she gets to choose to reveal, instead, it is available to everyone, permanently. And the world feels entitled to scrutinize, comment, chastise, and sometimes even commend her in return. This may all be worthwhile in the service of a good campaign, but it is worth noting that it is a feature of the campaign and a risk for its participants.Footnote 45 The woman who shouts her abortion or posts #MeToo loses some of the protection that privacy would afford her. She loses control over whether she is seen as a woman who has had an abortion or been the victim of a sexual assault, and she exposes herself to public comment and criticism on these matters.
Given the high costs of participating in these campaigns, it is unsurprising that those who readily did so had a certain amount of privilege. The recent viral #MeToo campaign was started and mostly participated in by famous, wealthy women who were in a stronger position to deal with the public scrutiny than many other women who face sexual harassment and abuse. They face the lowest risk of stigmatization and censure and have more resources to deal with attacks should they occur. Lindy West is a high-profile progressive writer who writes about herself confessionally for a living and, as she acknowledged, already participated in a space in which most people she knew were pro-choice. The cost for her shouting her abortion is significantly lower than the cost for a woman working at a religious school. The Roman Catholic Church runs large school systems in Canada and other countries. A woman who shouted her abortion while working for one of these institutions could likely be shouting on her way out the door and out of a job. The costs involved in participation are compounded by existing vulnerabilities. Pregnant people risk conflict (including censure, stigma, and criticism) and the burden of exposing emotionally complex matters and likely exposing themselves to unfair demands for explanation and justification.
No one could deny that having privacy with respect to these matters was valuable for women. And it is because these matters are sensitive, personal, and intimate that it was explosive when women and pregnant people voluntarily shared their experiences publicly on the internet. When someone voluntarily gives up a possession that they do not really care about, it is not that surprising or even interesting.Footnote 46 If, on the other hand, someone gives up an extraordinarily valuable possession, that is surprising and noteworthy. And if hundreds of people give up something valuable, that is even more surprising (perhaps explosive) and noteworthy. These campaigns attempted to explode the private sphere and used the value of privacy to that end. They did not deny the value of privacy.
Privacy provides a space in which an individual can act free from the judgment and interference of others. Of course, this space may be abused, and privacy used as a cover for reprehensible acts. But privacy also gives people space to experiment and to engage in countercultural and rebellious activities. Privacy also allows women to control how they present themselves to different persons by choosing what to reveal to whom.Footnote 47 In a world that is often critical of women’s choices, the value of privacy for women should not be undervalued. Normally, we consider carefully to whom we disclose matters of emotional complexity—feelings about an unfaithful partner, an abortion, sex life. Sharing these experiences creates intimacy with a particular person and also invites criticism, praise, and advice. We do not want that kind of relationship with just anyone and certainly not with everyone. Privacy enables us to form and maintain close personal relationships and, just as importantly, to keep other people at a distance. Our relationships with partners, close friends, and mentors bear this out. These persons are able to hurt us in unique ways, but they are also responsible for, and accountable to, us in unique ways (and vice versa).
Privacy might be even more important now. Roe has been overturned. And the right to decisional privacy no longer protects the right to choose abortion in the United States. Now, women and menstruating persons can have their privacy invaded even more through subpoenas into their Facebook chats and femetech apps like Flo. Big Data even means that Target might know you are pregnant before you even realize it, which is arguably already one violation of your privacy.Footnote 48 It seems plausible to think that the type of surveillance required to know that someone is pregnant based on their purchasing habits is a violation of one’s privacy, and the knowledge of that fact could be further abused by the state.
It is worth emphasizing that many women have felt empowered by these campaigns.Footnote 49 Whether they participated or not, their own experiences were affirmed, and a real feeling of solidarity was created. These are valuable effects that are to be celebrated, whether or not the campaigns themselves ultimately bring about legal or political change. None of that shows, however, that there are not also significant costs to participation in these campaigns. It is a fairly everyday observation that decisions and actions are often complicated and have good and bad aspects. The very success of these campaigns behooves us to understand them properly and to obtain a complete picture of their benefits and risks. A mere tweet may seem an easy and relatively safe way to participate, but that is, at best, a naïve view. Before society pats itself on the back for a job well done, it must confront what it took to get there. Women were by and large the victims of the pernicious myths, and they were required to risk more harm to dislodge these myths from the public’s consciousness. Reasoned arguments and statistical studies were not enough. Show us your scars, the public said, and then maybe we will hear from you.
MacKinnon urged us to explode the private sphere, but in doing so, she did not deny that privacy is valuable for women. I suggest that a promising reading of MacKinnon is that she meant us to blow up a version of the private sphere, the one we have—one that is gendered (and classist and racist). Indeed, part of MacKinnon’s point is that the right to privacy and the private sphere as they have so far been structured do not serve women’s right to privacy or a woman’s private sphere. The #MeToo and #ShoutYourAbortion campaigns are evidence of this. Privacy is valuable, but it is not equally accessible across genders. So we should explode it and start again.
Acknowledgements
This paper builds and draws on work and discussion with Alexandra Whelan. Thank you to Tom Adams, Ruth Chang, Jonny Cottrell, Steve Coyne, Diego de Guadelupe Romero Rivero, Allison Hills, Alexandra Whelan, and Alice MacLachlan for careful and thoughtful feedback on and discussion of the paper. Thanks also to the audience at my Workshop on Politics, Standing and Disagreement at York University; the audience and organizers, Manish Oza and Andy Yu, at the Law and Language Workshop at Western University; and audience and organizers, James Edwards, David Enoch, Kate Greasley, and Sandy Steele, at the OxJuris Conference at Oxford University.