Patricia Edgar reflects on a lifetime shaped by feminism – and asks why, despite its gains, relationships between men and women now feel more fractured than ever.

There is a growing awareness in the west that things have gone rather horribly wrong in the relationships between the sexes.

Research is showing fewer young people want or can’t find a partner; they are more reluctant to marry and bear children, so the population replacement birthrate is at 1.5 and falling; more young people are reporting loneliness and mental illness than the elderly; reports of domestic violence are escalating: and dating sites, one of the few places to meet a partner, are both an intentional marriage ritual and a meat market that commodifies its users.

Senator Matt Canavan, the new leader of the Nationals, among others of the political right, knows things are amiss for the society and the economy, with birth rates dropping at an alarming rate. But his solution is akin to the early twentieth century idiom “Close your eyes and think of England” advising British women to endure unwanted sexual intercourse by distracting themselves with patriotic duty. It symbolised marital submission, apathy toward sex, and the resignation to unpleasant duties, like housework, cooking and cleaning. He doesn’t say these words but that is the nostalgic fanciful world he and a growing group of conservatives, evangelicals and the red pill brigade conjure up.

I grew up in that world. Now in my 90th year I have lived through the positive revolution feminism brought but have also seen the disruptions. Here I reflect on what has led to this unease between the sexes when I continue to believe what most of us want in life is companionship and a partner to live alongside through challenging times.

I was born the third girl to a father who wanted a son to carry on the family name, take camping and fishing, and share men’s business. I wasn’t told I was a disappointment, but I was aware. I thought I couldn’t be what I wanted to be, a lawyer, a pilot, someone in charge of something. The only role models in the remote town of Mildura in 1937 were the men who ran everything, like my father, and the women, like my mother, who stayed at home, bore the children, cooked, washed and took care of the house, went to church, the CWA, the Red Cross, and did meals on wheels. Their day out was to have afternoon tea.

Yet I absorbed the idea through films I saw and books I read that I need not live that life, and it was my mother, who rarely gave advice, who told me, “You do what you want to do, Patricia.”

I liked my boyfriends, I did want to marry and have children, but I intended to work as well. In essence all I wanted was a fair go and for the burdens of life to be equally shared in a partnership. That was what I understood feminism to be about: equal opportunity and equal status. Surely decent men couldn’t object to that, and decent men did not.

I became a teacher – fully qualified, but paid less for the same work than a man. I had to resign from the teaching roll when I married and could not be superannuated. The discrimination women experienced was overt; we were considered inferior beings.

These were the days when it was legal to specify gender and age in job advertisements. An example: Wanted Special Girl Friday, bright young bird, aged between 20-35, who likes doing lots of interesting things. Put on a pretty face and apply as our receptionist, telephonist, and coffee girl. Charming young boss and lots of fringe benefits. You will need to be well groomed and efficient.

My epiphany, the most important book I ever read, was by Simone de Beauvoir, The Second Sex. I was 23. I understood then the problem I felt was not within me, but within society and decided to do my bit to try to bring about change.

I was married then, with two little girls, and teaching part time at the Council of Adult Education. I asked the boss if I could teach a course on The Changing Role of Women. He thought I was nuts. I pleaded. It proved to be the biggest day time class the CAE had run. More than 100 women came in their hats and gloves, all feeling the problem that had no name.  It was 1966. The Female Eunuch would be published in 1970.

The Joy of Sex, written by Dr Alex Comfort, published in 1972, subtitled A Gourmet Guide to Lovemaking, liberated attitudes toward sex. It was a publishing phenomenon that sold more than 12 million copies worldwide. Women discovered they could orgasm.

In 1974 I published with Hilary McPhee, Media She, a book exposing the way the mass media exploited women in advertising, films, television, cheesecake and journalism. That book was a minor sensation, featuring on the ABC’s national program Monday Conference.

Prime Minister Gough Whitlam (1972-75) further transformed women’s expectations of the role they could play in society. He established an Office for the Status of Women and appointed women to governing boards in the community and the arts. I was a beneficiary of this policy, appointed as the first woman to the Australian Broadcasting Control Board. The same year the United Nation’s General Assembly named 1975 as International Women’s Year.

Whitlam made tertiary education free in Australia and many women with families went back to school. These life-changing social and economic changes were revolutionary. There would be no turning back. Women now make up 60 per cent of domestic students in our universities and gender pay-gaps although not yet equal are closing.

As we women were beginning to understand new options for living our lives, the contraceptive pill, which became available in the 1960s, transformed sexual relationships. Women had unprecedented control over their reproductive choices – they were freed from the constraining fear of pregnancy, thus the traditional social contract of marriage sex and reproduction went out the window.

As women gained more autonomy, embracing their newfound rights, women’s fashion choices changed; they mimicked men’s suits with wide shoulder pads, the heels went up, the hair came down and more flesh was exposed symbolising their empowerment and individuality. And men felt they no longer had to make a commitment. They could play the field. Sex was a commodity, and feminism morphed away from broad civil rights to a focus on sexuality. Bodies were weaponised by both sexes.

Promiscuity was curbed when herpes exploded as an epidemic in 1979-80 and AIDs came to public attention in 1982-3. The grim reaper public health campaign ads in 1987 so frightened viewers they were taken off air three weeks into a six-week campaign. They sent the message AIDS could infect everyone not just marginal groups, so young men and women after playing around, chose to settle down with one partner.

Around this time opportunities, for the young and the separated, to meet others at social events were disappearing; church attendance declined and many community groups dissolved. The Internet became available in the early 1990s, and online video games attracted most boys, playing alone or in groups for hours on end. Porn sites flourished, exploiting violent interactions with spanking, strangling and hitting women featuring, and many men were addicted. Social media gained traction in the early 2000s. Smartphones were predominating by 2010s with texting replacing speaking.

Family traditions, sexual mores, gender expectations and the means of communication had all been upended by the time Gen Z was born. Covid was still to come. But it wasn’t just the young people who were perplexed.

The confusion regarding sexuality was exemplified by the publication of Fifty Shades of Grey. Originally self-published as an ebook and print-on-demand in paperback in June 2011, the book sold like billy-o, becoming the fastest selling paperback in publishing history. It was the story of a romance between a virginal 21-year-old and a handsome billionaire – who has everything a woman could possibly want, including power, looks and muscles – and her sexual awakening by Mr Christian Grey who is equipped with all tools required to explore bondage, discipline, sadism and masochism (BDSM) within the relationship.

A fiery public dispute erupted between the critics who saw it as a modern consensual fantasy romance; a story of self-discovery and sexual exploration; and those who saw it as a toxic, controlling, and potentially abusive relationship promoting dangerous dynamics. Most readers and viewers of the three films that followed were married women over thirty, raising questions about the conduct of sexual activity. Did this mean violence in sex was now normalised? Was pain meant to be part of the sexual routine? Is this what women wanted? For some of the blokes watching porn this message reinforced what they had been watching; they thought choking was part of the routine. Reports of domestic violence have been soaring since.

The most egregious example, difficult to comprehend, was the case in France where a husband doped his wife, Gisele Pelicot, and marketed her for rape to countless men. She somehow found the courage to tell her story publicly in a book, A Hymn to Life. 

Julia Gillard – elected in June 2010 – was the first female Australian Prime Minister. During her term she was subjected to extensive sexist abuse, unprecedented in Australian political history, about her body shape, her clothing, her family, and her lack of children. A measure of the tone used against Gillard was that the influential shock jock Alan Jones said on air: “The woman’s off her tree and quite frankly they should shove her and [Greens leader] Bob Brown in a chaff bag and take them as far out to sea as they can and tell them to swim home.”

Gillard’s renowned “misogyny speech” was delivered in parliament during Question Time on 9 October 2012 in response to opposition leader Tony Abbott’s sexist attitudes towards the PM. She famously stated, “I will not be lectured about sexism and misogyny by this man. I will not. Not now, not ever”. The 15-minute speech went viral and signalled to the nation we were in a diabolical and shameful gender war at the highest level of government.

The #MeToo movement, a campaign dedicated to fighting sexual harassment, sexual assault, and rape culture emerged. While the phrase was originally coined in 2006, it gained worldwide prominence in 2017 as a viral hashtag prompting a massive cultural shift, encouraging women to share their stories demonstrating that sexual misconduct was not an isolated issue, but a systemic, widespread problem and the perpetrators were escaping consequences. I had my say as well:  _Anything goes in Canberra_.

The #MeToo movement had significant social, legal, and cultural impacts worldwide. Companies implemented greater safeguards, better anti-harassment policies, and mandatory training to prevent future misconduct. Hundreds of prominent men in entertainment, politics, media, and sports lost their jobs or faced legal consequences after being publicly accused of misconduct. The movement helped break the silence surrounding sexual violence but provoked a severe backlash with the rush to judgement and cancel culture that followed. The LGBTIQ+ sub-groups all claimed recognition and for their voices to be heard. Confusion reigned.

These changes brought a strong emphasis on personal boundaries. The assumption of consent as a fundamental right reshaped dating and relationship dynamics but progress in rights meant disturbing complexity for individuals adapting to changing social norms.

Some years ago, my grandson told me, following a hurtful experience with a young woman, “My generation’s fucked!” I responded with disbelief, with reassurance and denial. Then he introduced me to Andrew Tate and the manosphere which I recognised as a repulsive, ugly, brutal, misogynistic, violent environment that threatened the development of young men and fuelled conflict between the sexes. He assured me all young men were familiar with Andrew Tate.

I could see this as a by-product in what has become a battle of the sexes fuelled by the #MeToo Movement and a warped interpretation of second wave feminism.

Covid coincided with the rise of #HimToo and the manosphere with its anti-feminist rhetoric where it was argued that #MeToo had created a “witch hunt”, unfairly targeting men, ignoring false accusations, and threatening due process. They see men as the victims of modern feminism with its “female privilege,” and forcefully assert domination and masculinity, in loud voices – the red pill. They have no idea how to cope with rejection. Anger and aggression are the response.

We know much has changed in recent decades since the feminist revolution of the sixties and seventies – socially, economically, culturally – and those shifts have reshaped how people relate. Men and women no longer have clearly defined roles. They are not sure what’s expected of them as they try to adjust to new norms.

Housing costs, job insecurity, and the rising cost of living mean young people delay relationships; they date more cautiously. They’re more selective because the stakes feel higher. Immigration has brought differing cultural values into the dating mix. Social fragmentation into tribal groups add to the complexity.

The unemployed male or disadvantaged male finds it more difficult to meet a partner in the turmoil of today’s marriage market. It seems to them women want it all, so they retreat to the gym and social media where dating apps amplify extremes, and the manosphere thrives.

Feminism at its core is about equal rights and opportunities. But online fringe voices on both sides frame relationships as: men vs. women; winners vs. losers; oppressors vs. oppressed. The media generally highlight the extremes and the problems.

Feminism did force society to confront patriarchal practices. Change has brought friction, but therapy and abuse are not the answer. Research continues to show most men and women still want relationships; most still value love, partnership, and family, most don’t hate each other; most disagreements come from misunderstanding, not ideology

Building connection between genders in the modern era does require moving beyond traditional roles and adopting a partnership model based on mutual respect and shared effort. Each one should pursue their own goals inside and outside of the relationship. A healthy, modern connection is formed by two complete individuals. I found such a marriage and partnership, as have many others, and many of my best friends and supporters have always been men.