Soraya Chemaly, a “feminist, writer, satirist, not necessarily in that order”, wrote recently in an article republished by the Huffington Post that every woman should learn the following ten words:
In her account, men interrupt women, they repeat what a woman has already said and hog the plaudits, and they explain things at length to women. Based on Johnson’s conversations with women on the topic, plus a stack of research, Ms Chemaly’s take is right. In particular, men interrupt and often “mansplain” (condescendingly explain) things to women.
“Mansplaining” was so named by Rebecca Solnit. She was telling an older man that she had written a book on a particular topic when he interrupted and started lecturing her about an important recent book on that same topic. Ms Solnit’s friend had to say—three times—“that’s her book” before the man realised his boorishness and retreated.
Ms Chemaly has a simple explanation for male overconfidence, which she sees as the root of the problem. Namely, the problem is
But another (complementary) explanation is at hand. “Mansplaining”, before it was so named, was identified by Deborah Tannen in her 1990 book “You Just Don’t Understand”. Ms Tannen, a linguist at Georgetown University, described a dinner at which the female scholar to her left shared her research agenda, and the two happily discussed their work and their overlap. But when Ms Tannen turned to a male colleague and briefly mentioned her research he, not a linguist, began going on and on about his own work that touched on neurolinguistics. Leaving the conversation she realised that she had just played the embarrassing subordinate role in the scenarios where she was the expert.
But Ms Tannen says “the reason is not—as it seems to many women—that men are bums who seek to deny women authority.” Instead, she says, “the inequality of the treatment results not simply from the men’s behavior alone but from the differences in men’s and women’s styles.” (In everything that follows, “men do X” and “women do Y” should be read as on average, men tend somewhat more towards X and women towards Y, with great variation within both sexes.) In Ms Tannen’s schema, men talk to determine and achieve status. Women talk to determine and achieve connection. To use metaphors, for men life is a ladder and the better spots are up high. For women, life is a network, and the better spots have greater connections.
What evidence shows that male and female styles differ? Among the most compelling is a crucial piece left out of the “simple sexism” explanation: men mansplain to each other. Elizabeth Aries, another researcher, analysed 45 hours of conversation and found that men dominated mixed groups—but she also found competition and dominance in male-only groups. Men begin discussing fact-based topics, sizing each other up. Before long, a hierarchy is established: either those who have the most to contribute, or those who are simply better at dominating the conversation, are taking most of the turns. The men who dominate one group go on to dominate others, while women show more flexibility in their dominance patterns. The upshot is that a shy, retiring man can find himself endlessly on the receiving end of the same kinds of lectures that Ms Tannen, Ms Chemaly and Ms Solnit describe.
When men and women get together, the problem gets more systematic. Women may be competitive too, but some researchers (like Joyce Benenson) argue that women’s strategies favour disguising their tactics. And if Ms Tannen’s differing goals play even a partial role in the outcome, we would expect exactly the outcome we see. A man lays down a marker by mentioning something he knows, an opening bid in establishing his status. A woman acknowledges the man’s point, hoping that she will in turn be expected to share and a connection will be made. The man takes this as if it were offered by someone who thinks like him: a sign of submission to his higher status. And so on goes the mansplaining. This is not every man, every woman, every conversation, but it clearly happens a lot.
Any half-educated man will know that women have equal intelligence, greater abilities in some areas, and are now out-competing men in education in Western countries. But male-dominated societies have, unsurprisingly, rewarded typically male behaviour: alpha males, and women who “act like men”, and can bear being called “bossy” and “bitchy” for doing so. This is where much of the sexism lies: punishing women (and sometimes men) who act like the “wrong” gender.
When men and women get together, the problem gets more systematic. Women may be competitive too, but some researchers (like Joyce Benenson) argue that women’s strategies favour disguising their tactics. And if Ms Tannen’s differing goals play even a partial role in the outcome, we would expect exactly the outcome we see. A man lays down a marker by mentioning something he knows, an opening bid in establishing his status. A woman acknowledges the man’s point, hoping that she will in turn be expected to share and a connection will be made. The man takes this as if it were offered by someone who thinks like him: a sign of submission to his higher status. And so on goes the mansplaining. This is not every man, every woman, every conversation, but it clearly happens a lot.
Any half-educated man will know that women have equal intelligence, greater abilities in some areas, and are now out-competing men in education in Western countries. But male-dominated societies have, unsurprisingly, rewarded typically male behaviour: alpha males, and women who “act like men”, and can bear being called “bossy” and “bitchy” for doing so. This is where much of the sexism lies: punishing women (and sometimes men) who act like the “wrong” gender.
Ms Chemaly is right that not all the lessons should be aimed at getting women and girls to speak more like men. Both boys and girls should be taught that there are several purposes to talking with others. To exchange information, to achieve status and to achieve connection are goals of almost any conversation. If one party to a chat expects an equal exchange and the other is having a competition, things get asymmetrical—and frustrating.
So, boys and girls, if you have something to say, speak up—your partner may not necessarily hand you the opportunity. And if you find yourself having talked for a while, shut up and listen. Your partner isn’t necessarily thick: it could be the other person is waiting for you to show some skill by asking a question. There are plenty of intra-sex differences among boys and among girls, and enough to commend both approaches to conversation. So the best way to think of this is not the simple frame that women need to learn how to combat “old-fashioned sexism”. Rather, both sexes need to learn the old-fashioned art of conversation.
Stop interrupting me. I just said that. No explanation needed.
In her account, men interrupt women, they repeat what a woman has already said and hog the plaudits, and they explain things at length to women. Based on Johnson’s conversations with women on the topic, plus a stack of research, Ms Chemaly’s take is right. In particular, men interrupt and often “mansplain” (condescendingly explain) things to women.
“Mansplaining” was so named by Rebecca Solnit. She was telling an older man that she had written a book on a particular topic when he interrupted and started lecturing her about an important recent book on that same topic. Ms Solnit’s friend had to say—three times—“that’s her book” before the man realised his boorishness and retreated.
Ms Chemaly has a simple explanation for male overconfidence, which she sees as the root of the problem. Namely, the problem is
good old-fashioned sexism expressed in gendered socialisation and a default cultural preference for institutionalised male domination of public life.
But another (complementary) explanation is at hand. “Mansplaining”, before it was so named, was identified by Deborah Tannen in her 1990 book “You Just Don’t Understand”. Ms Tannen, a linguist at Georgetown University, described a dinner at which the female scholar to her left shared her research agenda, and the two happily discussed their work and their overlap. But when Ms Tannen turned to a male colleague and briefly mentioned her research he, not a linguist, began going on and on about his own work that touched on neurolinguistics. Leaving the conversation she realised that she had just played the embarrassing subordinate role in the scenarios where she was the expert.
But Ms Tannen says “the reason is not—as it seems to many women—that men are bums who seek to deny women authority.” Instead, she says, “the inequality of the treatment results not simply from the men’s behavior alone but from the differences in men’s and women’s styles.” (In everything that follows, “men do X” and “women do Y” should be read as on average, men tend somewhat more towards X and women towards Y, with great variation within both sexes.) In Ms Tannen’s schema, men talk to determine and achieve status. Women talk to determine and achieve connection. To use metaphors, for men life is a ladder and the better spots are up high. For women, life is a network, and the better spots have greater connections.
What evidence shows that male and female styles differ? Among the most compelling is a crucial piece left out of the “simple sexism” explanation: men mansplain to each other. Elizabeth Aries, another researcher, analysed 45 hours of conversation and found that men dominated mixed groups—but she also found competition and dominance in male-only groups. Men begin discussing fact-based topics, sizing each other up. Before long, a hierarchy is established: either those who have the most to contribute, or those who are simply better at dominating the conversation, are taking most of the turns. The men who dominate one group go on to dominate others, while women show more flexibility in their dominance patterns. The upshot is that a shy, retiring man can find himself endlessly on the receiving end of the same kinds of lectures that Ms Tannen, Ms Chemaly and Ms Solnit describe.
When men and women get together, the problem gets more systematic. Women may be competitive too, but some researchers (like Joyce Benenson) argue that women’s strategies favour disguising their tactics. And if Ms Tannen’s differing goals play even a partial role in the outcome, we would expect exactly the outcome we see. A man lays down a marker by mentioning something he knows, an opening bid in establishing his status. A woman acknowledges the man’s point, hoping that she will in turn be expected to share and a connection will be made. The man takes this as if it were offered by someone who thinks like him: a sign of submission to his higher status. And so on goes the mansplaining. This is not every man, every woman, every conversation, but it clearly happens a lot.
Any half-educated man will know that women have equal intelligence, greater abilities in some areas, and are now out-competing men in education in Western countries. But male-dominated societies have, unsurprisingly, rewarded typically male behaviour: alpha males, and women who “act like men”, and can bear being called “bossy” and “bitchy” for doing so. This is where much of the sexism lies: punishing women (and sometimes men) who act like the “wrong” gender.
When men and women get together, the problem gets more systematic. Women may be competitive too, but some researchers (like Joyce Benenson) argue that women’s strategies favour disguising their tactics. And if Ms Tannen’s differing goals play even a partial role in the outcome, we would expect exactly the outcome we see. A man lays down a marker by mentioning something he knows, an opening bid in establishing his status. A woman acknowledges the man’s point, hoping that she will in turn be expected to share and a connection will be made. The man takes this as if it were offered by someone who thinks like him: a sign of submission to his higher status. And so on goes the mansplaining. This is not every man, every woman, every conversation, but it clearly happens a lot.
Any half-educated man will know that women have equal intelligence, greater abilities in some areas, and are now out-competing men in education in Western countries. But male-dominated societies have, unsurprisingly, rewarded typically male behaviour: alpha males, and women who “act like men”, and can bear being called “bossy” and “bitchy” for doing so. This is where much of the sexism lies: punishing women (and sometimes men) who act like the “wrong” gender.
Ms Chemaly is right that not all the lessons should be aimed at getting women and girls to speak more like men. Both boys and girls should be taught that there are several purposes to talking with others. To exchange information, to achieve status and to achieve connection are goals of almost any conversation. If one party to a chat expects an equal exchange and the other is having a competition, things get asymmetrical—and frustrating.
So, boys and girls, if you have something to say, speak up—your partner may not necessarily hand you the opportunity. And if you find yourself having talked for a while, shut up and listen. Your partner isn’t necessarily thick: it could be the other person is waiting for you to show some skill by asking a question. There are plenty of intra-sex differences among boys and among girls, and enough to commend both approaches to conversation. So the best way to think of this is not the simple frame that women need to learn how to combat “old-fashioned sexism”. Rather, both sexes need to learn the old-fashioned art of conversation.
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