By Patricia Zhang
Editors: Ashley Yeung and Alloe Mak

With recent evolution in identity politics, an updated version of the Oppression Olympics has dropped—our modern Catch-22. Instead of fighting to be the most oppressed, we fight to signal the most virtue—to show off to the world that we are based or woke. 

Though we attribute virtue signaling solely to the action of performing wokeness, a new societal pressure has been born. This idea is presented in the book Tomorrow Sex Will Be Good Again by Katherine Angel, where when discussing consent culture, states that women now have an expectation to stand up and speak out. Though, for example, the #MeToo movement has created a culture of acceptance towards standing up and sharing your story, the unexpected ramification is the narrative that women owe it to themselves, and especially others, to take a stand. If you are not constantly talking about the patriarchy, you aren’t a feminist. In fact, you’re perpetuating a misogynistic narrative. Angel states:

“The widespread rhetoric [is] that consent is the locus for transforming the ills of our sexual culture – women’s speech about their desire is both demanded and idealized, touted as a marker of progressive politics.”

This is where the intersection of identity politics meets with constant “wokeism.” The consequence now is that it is a societal duty to display a sort of radical feminist exercising of one’s autonomy or power. The bar of expectation is now set—we ALL told our story, why won’t tell yours?

This ties into an age-old dichotomy of the will to represent ourselves while attempting to keep the representation “true.” This is to say that feminists are constantly struggling to define the label of “feminist” in the way they would like it to be perceived, battling with others who encourage the negative perception of the word. The rhetoric that encourages virtue signaling is at complete odds with true feminist values—how should feminists strip that idea from the label? Feminists are annoying, but all women must be one, or else they are misogynistic. The challenge lies not only in shaping the perception of the feminist label but also in contending with societal forces that perpetuate negative stereotypes. The issue here is that though there is an evident societal push for everyone to become feminists and embrace it, negative connotations surround the very term. 

To understand this issue, we need to look at the complexities within the term “feminism” as a  representation of our identities. Scholar Diane Elam argues in the book Feminism and Deconstruction that when we label oppression in boxes such as “women’s issues” or “women’s interests,” we imply an identity to “woman.” In other words, by labeling certain challenges or concerns as exclusively belonging to women, we may inadvertently imply that there is a single, unified experience or identity for all women. This blatant oversimplification can overlook the diversity of women’s experiences and it also suggests that there are a set of conditions to be a feminist. But, as we know, feminism is not a term with just one definition that includes only one type of person. Most notably, not only women can be feminists. Instead, there are multiple layers to be accounted for. 

With the word “feminist,” we can see how it can be placed in both a pejorative and empowering context. Words and phrases can have different meanings and different representations. This also applies to media, specifically that of work that self-reflects. Imagine a book within a book or a play within a play—a literary technique known as mise en abyme, coined by André Gide, a French author. Think of literally any TV show where in the show, the characters themselves are also watching TV. The term “mise en abyme” itself translates to “placement into the abyss.” As a physical example, imagine two mirrors facing each other, reflecting themselves over and over again endlessly. It’s a sort of infinite regression, where things fold into themselves. I’m watching a show that’s watching a show that’s watching a show and so on. In a broader, philosophical sense, it creates a loop of ideas and meanings.

The self-reference and fluid style of mise en abyme, where we can fold back layers and layers of interpretation, is heavily connected to deconstructionism, a term introduced by philosopher Jacques Derrida. Deconstructionism is a way of examining how language and societal ideas are not fixed or clear-cut but rather fluid and nuanced. There are multiple layers or complexities in language, likemodern slang, where a regular word like “Bad,”can flip on its head to mean something good such as a person being attractive—the word taking on an entirely different definition and characteristic. 

In a feminist context, Elam toys with the term mise en abyme, calling it it “Miss. en Abyme.” Instead of using the phrase as a literary device, it’s used as a way to recognize our own steps in feminist advocacy. The concept of Miss. en Abyme is focused on the idea of infinite regression (the placement into the abyss) rather than the idea of a book within a book. Elam argues that as we strive to represent and advocate for women, we increasingly notice the challenges and shortcomings in these efforts. This continuous cycle of trying, accompanied by a growing awareness of failures or doubts, reflects an infinite regression. This is an inherently nihilist approach to feminist issues—we are staring at the abyss as we keep dumping our efforts (of feminism or equality) into it, only for nothing to be apparent except for the feeling of failure. 

Broader societal shifts have insisted we must represent ourselves as woke before anything else. Oppression Olympics and virtue signaling are woke cultures favourite sports, but the competition and signalling become self-referential and cyclic. 

Yet there is a persistent “what’s next?“ Elam recognizes that a utopian land without any sort of inequality is impossible. French philosopher Foucault’s quote (as used by Angel), “tomorrow sex will be good again” is the exact delusion. This is the exact kind of mindset that those who say “We live on a giant rock!” love to adopt—that because we are so small and insignificant, no attempt at change will ever reflect the effort put into it. That’s where I argue that the fight for feminism, and anything similar, is done to be done. 

Feminism can no longer be the search for a binary definition or a push for everyone to adhere to the ideal of feminism. As Elam puts it, “we don’t need more lessons in how to be a woman.” We walk the path to a utopia that does not exist, but the moments of achievement are in their own a specific type of success. 

All seems almost nihilist and hopeless, but who cares? 

This is with endless work, a colossal and abyssal navigation.