Whenever someone realises you are foreign, usually two things happen. First, they tell you about their trip to where you’re from, whether this is relevant or not; and, then, they tell you what they think of your country and countrymen.
Both men and women who have visited my country tell me the misogyny and sexism they observed in Australia was “a bit much”. Which is fair enough, I reckon.
Australians know we have a problem. We’re the country whose first woman prime minister was told she was unfit for the leadership because she didn’t have children – “barren” was the actual word a fellow MP used. Julia Gillard said, “I will not be lectured about sexism and misogyny by this man,” when referring to the former prime minister Tony Abbott, a man who once said having an abortion “was taking the easy way out”.
Maybe because it is so outward and consistent, we are quick to call it out in public and political life. We’ve been living with it and heaving against it all for so long, we’re quick to recognise sexism and its friends when we see it.
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I found the misogyny in Australia tough to deal with too but it’s the kind in Ireland that I find harder to fight against.
The misogyny in Ireland is quiet. It always has been.
It doesn’t look like red-faced politicians shouting from podiums that they believe a woman’s primary role is to be a mother. It is not podcasters “just telling it like it is” that women are more suited to looking after kids at home.
We don’t have an Andrew Tate sitting in front of a ring light in his bedroom telling women they shouldn’t drive. That’s too extreme for our sensibilities. “Cop yourself on,” we would say if we heard anyone talking like that down the local. We look at the loudest, most overt brands of misogyny and pat ourselves on the back, saying: “Aren’t we great, lads, that we don’t have any of that mad stuff over here.”
Instead, sexism in Ireland is whispered. It is usually wrapped up in the form of “helping women”. It’s the patronising hand on the shoulder. The “Here, don’t make a fuss”. It’s telling women who are pregnant and who desperately don’t want to be to “go away and think about it” for a few days. It’s “looking after” women in Magdalene laundries. It’s telling vulnerable women in Mother and Babies homes “to think what would be best for the baby”. We know what’s best for you. Now, off you go, good girleens that you are.
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It’s harder to stand up to. Harder to call out without looking crazy, demanding even. It’s easier to hide behind processes, procedures, bureaucracy and introducing change slowly, sensibly. Steady, now. There are more excuses. More ways to make you feel ashamed or extreme for asking to be treated like a rational human being. Things that hurt women get kicked into reports, reviews and enquiries. Sometimes details are suppressed by non-disclosure agreements. Sometimes, it is only down to the bravery of women affected and their refusal to sign confidential documents that we know about them at all.
When women were given the inaccurate results from the CervicalCheck screening programme, possibly delaying life saving treatment, they were made to spend their precious remaining time in court, trying to get justice and compensation that should have been laid down at their feet with a grovelling apology. Dr Gabriel Scally’s report from the scoping inquiry found “paternalism” in Irish healthcare, with women complaining they were made to feel belittled by providers for raising concerns.
Five years on from the referendum to legalise abortion, we’re arguing over whether women need a three day “cooling-off period” from their first appointment to actual termination procedure. The independent barrister hired to review the report from abortion providers recommended that the mandatory three day wait should be lifted. According to the original report, women are at risk of “timing-out” under the legal time frame in Ireland. They have to deal with patchy access to services, especially in rural areas; the ones who also have the worst public transport also may have to travel the furthest.
People who are pregnant and desperately do not want to be should be given help, not a patronising “go away and have a think about it”.
The Government has seen the recommendations, though, and recommended that they do not do anything just yet. The Taoiseach would like to know what happened to the women who attended their first appointment but not their second. Did they change their mind? Did they go somewhere else? Did they miscarry? Did they go overseas instead? We have no answer for this yet. The issue has been booted down the road, back into the vortex of reviews and committees.
In an interview with The Irish Times, Leo Varadkar said he would like to see fewer abortions in Ireland. That would seem to suggest there is a right number of abortions and it is less than the amount happening now.
Women do not arrive at the decision to have an abortion lightly. When will this country believe that we, women, know what we’re at? We don’t need to go away and think about it. We need you to listen. And act.