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The trouble with mainstream feminism
Author: Alison Phipps

What violence can we do, in the name of fighting sexual violence? This book presents a critique of #MeToo and similar Anglo-American campaigns. These campaigns are dominated by self-described ‘nasty women’, who refuse to be silent and compliant and who name and shame perpetrators in the media. These women also tend to be privileged and white. The book argues that mainstream feminism filters righteous anger about gender inequality through race and class supremacy. This turns ‘me, too’ into ‘me, not you’: an exclusive focus on white women’s pain and protection, and a desire for power and control sated through criminal punishment or institutional discipline. Punitive systems tend to disproportionately target marginalised people, who become collateral damage of the white feminist ‘war machine’. It is also a short step from sacrificing marginalised people to seeing them as enemies, which happens in campaigns against the sex industry and transgender inclusion. In this reactionary feminism, ‘me, not you’ refers to hoarding resources, policing borders and shutting doors. The book concludes that to tackle these dynamics white feminists need to reach towards a more intersectional, connected and abolition-focused politics, taking their lead from feminists of colour and other marginalised people.

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The Oxford Amnesty Lectures 2006
Editor: Chris Miller

'Terror' is a diffuse notion that takes no account of local particularities and 'war on terror' is a contradiction in terms. This book is based on the lectures that were given on the subject in Oxford in 2006. Amnesty has described 'war on terror' as a war on human rights. It is also a contest of narratives: stories that the protagonists tell about themselves, about their enemies, and about what is happening now. The book considers how the recent actions of the United States have stressed and stretched two areas of international law: the right of self-defence, and the rules of international humanitarian law. State terrorism, with a bit of careful spin, can be reclassified as counter-terrorism, in other words as inherently good in the same way that terrorism is inherently bad. The book engages with the politico-conceptual difficulties of distinguishing between war and terrorism. The interface and tensions between the human rights tradition and the Islamic tradition, particularly Islamic law, is discussed. The intensification of Western repression against Islamic thinkers or activists has at times been coupled with policies that seemed designed to change the religious trajectory of society. The sexualization of torture is only one way in which the 'war on terror' has delineated who is (and who is not) human. Religion, human rights, and trauma narratives are three other mechanisms for rationalizing suffering. The book also discusses the subject of censuring reckless killing of innocent civilians by the issue of fatwas by Muslim teachers.

Staff Security and Civilian Protection in the Humanitarian Sector
Miriam Bradley

civilian protection focuses on providing material assistance in such a way as to enable civilians to reduce their exposure to threats, as in the often cited example of providing fuel-efficient stoves to reduce women’s and girls’ exposure to threats of sexual violence while collecting firewood ( Ferris, 2011 : 108; O’Callaghan and Pantuliano, 2007 : 35; Slim and Bonwick, 2005 : 89). Projects focused on income-generating activities may

Journal of Humanitarian Affairs
Open Access (free)
Digital Bodies, Data and Gifts
Kristin Bergtora Sandvik

. Sandvik , K. B. ( 2018 ), ‘ Technology, Dead Male Bodies, and Feminist Recognition: Gendering ICT Harm Theory’ , Australian Feminist Law Journal , 44 : 1 , 49 – 69 . Sandvik , K. B. ( 2019 ), ‘ Technologizing the Fight against Sexual Violence: A Critical Scoping’, PRIO Paper (Oslo: PRIO) , www

Journal of Humanitarian Affairs
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Alison Phipps

just a lack of solidarity. Privileged white women also sacrifice more marginalised people to achieve our aims, or even define them as enemies when they get in our way. #MeToo is a movement about sexual violence, most of which is perpetrated by cisgender men. This book is also about violence – especially the violence we can do in the name of fighting sexual violence. When I say ‘we’, I mainly mean white women and white feminists. This book is addressed to my fellow white feminists; although it is dedicated to Black feminists, they will not need to read it.1 For

in Me, not you
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Alison Phipps

our politics. We would need to let our ideas and actions be led by more marginalised people. We would need to work against how racial capitalism divides and stratifies us for profit. Sexual violence is a pivot for the intersecting sys­ tems of heteropatriarchy, racial capitalism and colonialism. And politically white feminism, whether mainstream or reactionary, fails to interrogate two of the three. It is complicit with the racial capitalism, and its colonial and neo-colonial expansion, which frames violent and sexually violent abuses of power. Instead of

in Me, not you
Alison Phipps

PRINT.indd 12 14/01/2020 13:18 Gender in a right-moving world assault had drastically altered her life. While remodelling the house she shared with her husband she had insisted on a second front door – a potential escape route. As she had explained why she needed one, she had described the assault to her husband in detail. She recalled saying at the time that ‘the boy who assaulted me could someday be on the U.S. Supreme Court’. As a survivor of sexual violence, this phrase rings in my ears: it represents the right of powerful men to abuse women with impunity. It

in Me, not you
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Alison Phipps

Chapter 2 Me, not you In 2006 Black feminist Tarana Burke created an organisation to help survivors of sexual violence, particularly young women of colour, find pathways to healing. Reflecting her central principle of empowerment through empathy, Burke named her programme of work ‘Me Too’. In 2017 the phrase went viral as a hashtag, following allegations against film producer Harvey Weinstein by a number of famous women in Hollywood. ‘If you’ve been sexually harassed or assaulted,’ tweeted Alyssa Milano, ‘write “me too” as a reply to this tweet.’ #MeToo is

in Me, not you
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Sabine Lee

nature, were in a position to contemplate larger political and military contexts, and as such were better placed than national legislators to reconsider the references to conflict-related sexual violence (CRSV) as previously addressed in the Hague Regulations and the Geneva Conventions and Additional Protocols. In these earlier provisions,19 the concept of sexual crimes was limited to the prohibition of rape, with no express definition of what constituted rape.20 Moreover, at the time of the Hague Regulations and Geneva Convention, the kinds of atrocities witnessed in

in Children born of war in the twentieth century
Sexual violence and trauma in the ‘war on terror’
Joanna Bourke

shouldn’t be in the military … Women are more vicious than men’. 20 This approach encourages an emphasis on Lynndie England’s pregnancy and the alleged fact that the female perpetrators were ‘smitten with [Charles] Graner’, the man most frequently seen in the photographs. 21 A more sociologically infused perspective posits that female perpetrators of sexual violence expose the folly of a world that deprecates femininity and views bodies (particularly female ones) as commodities. Women come to adopt the same attitude toward, all bodies. As women become similar

in ‘War on terror’