By Danielle Whitaker

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I’m a writer, so maybe I’m biased—but I have to wonder, how much of social chaos can be blamed on the subjective interpretation of words and ideas?

Our government proclaims “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,” while taking lives on the battlefield and in the electric chair, every day. Does someone below the poverty line consider themselves “free”? I won’t even dare to consider the 7.5 billion definitions of “happiness.”

Words matter, but they only matter if we can agree upon what they mean—what they encompass.

When I was 19, I met my first girlfriend and came out to my parents, who decided to kick me out of the house. They changed their minds, thankfully (though their homophobia lives on, nearly two decades later). Other teens are not so lucky.

This happened because our country is ruled by the conservative mindset of upholding (“conserving”) a traditional, heteronormative, patriarchal Christian society and denying rights to those who default. This happened because the “right wing” of global politics has worked tirelessly to prevent homosexual and bisexual individuals from pursuing their happiness.

In 2015, I was finally able to marry my wife—just in time, as her visa was expiring, which would’ve spelled deportation to her chaotic homeland and abusive family. This stroke of luck was brought to us by the hard-won efforts of those who align themselves with what we call the “left wing.”

But what do those terms mean? Where did this dichotomy originate? Politics, people, paradigms aren’t black or white, good or evil, all or nothing. We’re all complex, nuanced individuals. Hardly any of us agree entirely with one side or the other, and how can we? There are novels’ worth of blurred lines within political ideologies, and sometimes, when the planets are aligned, both the right and the left actually find something to agree on.

The subjugation of women, for instance.

It is instinctual to associate feminism with the liberal side of the political spectrum, and we cannot deny this side its due credit for a large number of social justice wins. If we cannot rigidly define “liberal” or “conservative,” except as distinct from radicalism or socialism, we can still acknowledge that those self-identifying as conservative share certain beliefs and characteristics that are unequivocally antithetical to radical feminist ideology, while those who consider themselves liberal are the ones advocating, to varying degrees, for the underdog: the minorities, the oppressed, the voices without a stage. Women included, in theory.

So what happened? Why has the left turned on women? Between the lunacy of gender identity and the atrocity of the “sex positive” movement that promotes the commodification of women’s bodies under the guise of “choice,” it is safe to say that the “left,” on the whole, can no longer be trusted.

But why are we surprised? We should never have trusted them in the first place.

The right, the left, the up and down and sideways—every system in place in the world today, every political ideology, every border, every economy, every legal system, every dominant social custom and cultural norm—was created by men, to benefit men.

They’ve thrown us a bone here and there with “equal rights” rhetoric, but what we have to remember is that leftist ideology has only ever only supported women’s rights that don’t noticeably infringe on the status quo of male dominance.

We can be “equal”—just not too equal.

We can make choices—as long as those choices can be trimmed to fit neatly in the patriarchal puzzle.

We can kick ass and have a career—all without sacrificing killer eyeliner and heels!

If lesbians alone had fought for the right to marry, would my wife be here with me today?

Let’s face it. The world of men—rich and poor, black and white, right and left, gay, bisexual, and straight—has always sought to keep women in second place.

So when we, as radical feminists, debate the question of whether or not to “ally” with conservative individuals, media, and organizations, we must first ask ourselves, what better options do we have—especially when the left has proven its own sexism is alive and well?

This seems to be the point we have reached: how do we move forward, achieve our goals, share our ideas, when no one will let us speak?

In January, someone did. Conservative research and educational institution The Heritage Foundation hosted a panel of radical feminists and critics of gender identity ideology to openly discuss the negative impact of self-ID and trans activism. While this platform certainly increased our visibility, it did challenge the notion that there’s no such thing as bad publicity. Predictably, the event was branded “anti-transgender” by liberal media while the participants received harsh judgment for daring to step through the doors of a right-wing organization—despite the fact that no one was paid to appear, and the event was nothing more than a civil exchange of opinion, a platform to speak our truths. Since then, a debate has risen from the ashes: with whom should we ally? How do we best catalyze our movement while maintaining its integrity?

It’s arguable, of course, that the left would be far more likely than the right to evolve and see reason over time—to realize prostitution isn’t “empowering” and that rather than a burgeoning new civil rights movement, trans activism is a shitstorm of Orwellian gaslighting and misogyny. While the right as a whole works to stay put or even move backward, the left does, generally, attempt to move forward—even if they end up in the wrong direction.

When we turn to the right, on the other hand, we stumble upon a shred of common ground at present. It turns out the folks who want to uphold rigid gender roles aren’t a fan of men calling themselves women either. Imagine that.

We can’t ignore that their motivation and ultimate goals are in direct opposition to ours, but the fact remains that, if we work together, perhaps there’s a chance we could win a few common battles in our two very different wars—assuming the optics of “allying” with conservatives, paired with our already unfavorable reputation, doesn’t completely obliterate us from a PR standpoint.

This is where we must define our terms—and we know too well what happens when we do not, considering our critics’ inability to provide adequate definitions for the words they are so vehemently fighting to own, for the concepts on which they wage their entire war. (What is a woman? Anyone who identifies as one! What is a snogglefloop? Why, anything that looks like a snogglefloop, obviously! What bigotry of you to even ask!)

Radical feminists typically label themselves leftists in one way or another, but what does that even mean anymore? Do we need these labels any more than we need labels for gender nonconformity? The right and left both were developed and evolved by men—still are—so why would we “ally” ourselves with either?

More to the point, what do we mean by “ally”? There’s quite a difference between engaging in debate and entering an official political partnership. Where do we draw lines? How can we know what type of engagement will do us more harm than good, and what will be worth the risk?

In our desperate search for any platform willing to project our voices, we face the risk of irreparable damage to the already fragile, polarized reputation of our already misunderstood movement. If we have not yet given up seeking support from the liberal community, we must accept that the moment we imply an alliance with conservatives is the moment liberal culture is likely to sever their last frayed ties with us. Will we then lose our chance of achieving widespread support, having been written off as conservative extremists? When our common-ground battles are won, to where will conservatives return their attention? Criminalizing abortion? Overturning gay rights?

We don’t want to be the ones mangled to death by the wolf in sheep’s clothing.

That said—I think we can avoid it, because we’re smart as hell.

So talk to conservatives. Talk to liberals. Talk to libertarians and communists and socialists and resource-based economists (like me!). Talk to young and old people, gay, straight, bi, asexual, of all colors and nationalities. Talk to trans-identified people, detransitioned people, talk to people in third-world countries who have never heard so much as a whisper about the privilege of self-identification. We can’t thrive in an echo chamber, after all. We should engage with our opposition, with our supporters, with those on the fence, with those still wallowing in ignorance.

And if we think we have the chance to take a step forward by fighting a common issue or two with our opponents, perhaps we should give it a shot—as long as we continue to stand our ground, define our terms, never back down, and never sacrifice the war for a battle.

We don’t have to call it an alliance, and maybe we shouldn’t. Alliance may imply more common ground than we’ve got. The word in itself boasts six distinct definitions in the dictionary, so maybe “cooperation” would be a better term. Less ambiguous, less binding, more neutral.

Maybe, too, this debate isn’t a bad thing. Maybe it will help us in the end, if we don’t all share the same ideas about which route to take up the mountain. (The mountain is women’s lib, in case that embarrassingly bad metaphor wasn’t clear.)

If we diversify, maybe we’ve got a better chance of finding a strategy that works. Divide and conquer—only without the division. Because unlike some communities, we have the ability to maintain solidarity even in the face of disagreement.

And that’s what propels us forward—slower than we’d like, perhaps—but always forward.

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For further discussion about this debate, tune in to WLRN’s monthly news program on Thursday, April 4, 2019, when I will be speaking with Kara Dansky of Women’s Liberation Front (WoLF) and Ann Menasche of Feminists in Struggle (FIST) to explore these issues and more.