I am not the first person to tackle this vast topic. Historically, and as of very recently, the question of womanhood has been torn apart, put back together and ultimately reared itself as too controversial or exclusive to tie down. As transgender people have fallen under unfair scrutiny, my mind is racked with this volatile inquiry: what is womanhood? Can, or should it, be defined?
Gender is established by the World Health Organization as “characteristics of women, men, girls and boys that are socially constructed. This includes norms, behaviors and roles associated with being a woman, man, girl or boy, as well as relationships with each other.” However, there has been a rise in trans-exclusionary radical feminists, better known as TERFs, who are hell-bent on eradicating transgender women from feminist and womanly spaces in the name of bio-essentialism. But what about those who are born with male and female genitalia? Typically, they are socialized as men or women. Are they not allowed to identify as such, despite their biology?
It is reductive to claim that transgender or intersex people have no right to the label of “woman” based on biology, as it argues against the very foundations of feminism. To bar people from participating in womanhood on a purely biological notion means we are then condoning the converging of sex and gender; or that people are predestined for certain things and behaviors based on their physiology. This is not true. With the same logic, one could argue that women have a natural inclination or duty to domestics and submission because they can give birth. Not every woman has a functioning uterus—or is born with one, even with the other accompanying sex organs. To reduce such a broad group of people to their biology ignores some of the most prevalent issues within feminism: defying social and biological expectations, agency, infertility and not choosing to go through with pregnancies. While gender and sex are things that overlap and influence each other, it must be recognized that they are independent concepts and are not equivalent to cause and effect. Having something does not make you something. Only you can determine that.
One of the louder arguments that are trans-exclusionary is that transgender women have never been socialized as women or girls and lack fundamental experiences and, thus, cannot truly be women. I say this is a flawed contention, as everyone is socialized differently. My experience of girlhood is separate from every other woman who attends Florida State—are they not women because they have not undergone my tribulations? I could extend that to every Asian-American woman as well, and it would not strip them of their racial or cultural identity.
Oppression looks different for everyone, especially with the overlapping factors of race, class, sexuality, etc. To prevent others from partaking in womanhood is not a new pattern, and just because people lead different lives and have varying obstacles does not make them any less woman than you or I. Think back to the 19th century to one of the most prolific women’s rights activists and abolitionists: Sojourner Truth. In 1851, she gave her speech “Ain’t I a Woman?”, demanding equal rights for all and more definitively, Black women.
One of the most evident parts of her speech deals directly with the point I seek to make—even though Sojourner Truth was a biological female, her womanhood was still denied because of her skin color, something that women of color still grapple with. It is no secret that white womanhood is treated with more fragility than my womanhood or anyone else who also looks or lives like me. 300 years ago, I would not be considered a woman, let alone a human being.
To deny transgender women from engaging in femininity or using certain labels is anti-feminist because everyone is exploring gender or womanhood at their own pace. Not subscribing to seemingly fixed facets of such a broad paradigm excludes the work of many important feminists—encompassing those who are not white, working class, non-English speaking, gender non-conforming… the list goes on and on, but they are still women regardless. Attempting to hone such narrow claims is remissive and unproductive.
Another frequent talking point of defining womanhood is pain, specifically at the hands of our gendered counterparts. The issue can materialize as universal: it saddens me to know that I can look to my right and know that I am not the only one who feels suffocated by the tight grasp of my own gender. My women’s studies courses have been some of the most devastating learning experiences; more often than not I leave class weighed down, my heart a paperweight lodged within my chest. There is anger stratified amongst us, a bond forged through seething grief and betrayal. Becoming a feminist has been a painful and gratuitous birth. I hate the way this makes me feel, though—I want more for women. I, along with many others, wish to be freed from the grip our gendered counterparts hold over us while also rebuking the notion that my identities should be steeped in violence and stained by blood. Additionally, I do not wish to construct who I am around my oppressors in the same way I attempt to cultivate a racial identity outside of white supremacy. I don’t want to be defined by my pain, nor should anyone else be.
Truthfully: who are we to define such a concept for other people? I don’t want my identity carved out for me and I would not do the same for other women. What doesn’t matter is regurgitating discourse about the idiosyncrasies of an abstract concept but becoming invested in ameliorating conditions for women as a whole. Sisterhood can be found within the desire to make things better for all the women existing now and to come instead of being biologically selective. At FSU, we can aspire to create safe spaces for all women, alike and different. What matters is WHO we are, not what we are.
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