This divide breeds an anger within feminism, and between feminists, that is useful in understanding the modern-day TERF war. Amina Wadud’s essay “Can One Critique Cancel All Previous Efforts?” provides a more concrete explanation as to why this anger occurs. Wadud writes about the Qur’an, arguing that while there are aspects of the text that are patriarchal, some feminist critiques only serve to “reify the male gaze” (130). She argues that suggesting we must either “liberate women from every utterance in the Qur’an or . . . throw out the sacred aspect of the text altogether” is unnecessary and ineffective (131-132). Removing the “sacred aspect,” of the Qur’an, Wadud asserts, does not acknowledge the nuanced and productive arguments that come about when explaining why “six or seven sticky passages” may be problematic (132). Perhaps most concerning, it requires the dismissal of an entire community and assumes the members of said community can “be transformed” and will adapt accordingly (132). Though it is not my intention to equate religious conflict and feminist in-fighting, Wadud’s concern that eliminating problematic material dismisses the value of critical discussions as well as entire communities could certainly apply in the controversy over Greer. In a rudimentary way, if we replace the Qur’an with a seminal second wave text such as The Female Eunuch, we might consider the ways in which Greer’s work has shaped the rhetoric of feminist movement without dismissing it entirely. The discussions within the community it has the potential to produce can only serve to strengthen shared values.

While interpretations may vary widely, feminist texts can nonetheless act as a source of hope and guidance, and can garner a sense of community for all those who study and read them. My mum’s copy of The Female Eunuch sits pride of place on her bookshelf. It is therefore understandable that when much of second-wave feminism remains relevant yet limited in scope, the perceived efforts to change it or make it more inclusive come with struggle. When you rely so heavily on a certain line of thought in order to protect your rights to the very body you live in, then any attack on this is unsurprisingly unwelcome.

These elements of fear of erasure can be seen within Greer’s own commentary. She has been known to frequently express anger about the fact that a man who has “enjoyed the services—the unpaid services of a wife,” or the benefits of the patriarchy, can suddenly “decide” to be a woman (qtd in Wahlquist). Greer is not alone in this sentiment. Much of what she condemns mirrors what many TERFs fear: that the existence of transgender individuals erases what it means to be a biological “woman,” simultaneously erasing second-wave achievements. Bluntly, it is the belief that transgender-inclusive feminism expunges the hard work of cisgender women by allowing transgender women the best of both worlds—the advantage of the patriarchy and ownership of the female experience. When Greer publicly attacks Caitlyn Jenner, Greer is, in her own albeit deeply problematic way, refusing to adapt, refusing to let go of the status that a biological definition of “woman” has given her (Gayle). Insisting that she be no-platformed removes critical debate aimed at changing her bias. It might also indirectly dismiss some second-wave feminists whose views are unrelated to TERF bias. That feminism has moved on, as Chu posits, is natural. However, negotiating with those that are not prepared to change may seem an unproductive pursuit. If Chu is right in her assertion that this friction is not a new concept within the feminist movement, then it would seem reasonable to assume that eventually differences will be overcome. Surely different feminist thoughts in the twenty-first century are not uniquely irreconcilable; surely not all second-wave feminist texts are deliberately trans-exclusionary, nor are all transgender activists today unwilling to recongize the contributions of feminists in the 1960s and 70s. If this is the case, then why does the current climate feel unprecedentedly competitive?

In his paper “The Atavism of Cancel Culture,” Robert Henderson describes a perfect storm that is created by social media—a storm that helps us to understand why this ‘title’ is so unattainable. He points out that though the concept of and the desire behind cancelling someone is not new, the way it is enacted via social media is (Henderson). To illustrate this, Henderson describes a recent event in which Erika Christakis, a member of staff at Yale University, was accused of supporting cultural appropriation. The accusations came about because she questioned the Yale administration’s Halloween costume guidelines, encouraging students to express discomfort with one another’s costumes, rather than placing certain costumes off-limits. Students claimed that her email was an “emblem of systemic racism within the university”—“emblem” here being the operative word to encapsulate the nature of cancel culture: that one action can symbolize an entire person’s being, or even an entire ideology (Henderson).³ This action can then be used as a reason to unfollow, no-platform, or defame an individual—to ‘cancel’ their relevance and their esteem. Henderson argues that cancelling “has become an entertaining hobby—an indulgent, dopamine-feeding activity practiced on social media” in order to find “who is loyal to their movement.” Henderson’s focus is not on cancel culture within the sphere of gender debate, but his holistic approach is easily applied to the TERF war. Cancel culture of all types, TERF–related or not, allows people to join together against those that they see as the enemy, or as the symbolic manifestation of a greater enemy. 

Henderson acknowledges that the desire for connectivity and belonging that cancel culture provides is not a new craving, but asserts that social media platforms such as Twitter encourage people to pursue a dogmatic diatribe that silences those whose opinions do not fit with their own. It would be a severe misstep to underestimate the Internet’s power. Not-so-social media applications allow users to seek out those that are “loyal”: those who support and condone their already established opinions. The inherent danger of this is that total loyalty demands the dismissal, or ‘cancelling,’ of those who challenge one’s opinion. This is when progress begins to stagnate. It must be noted that the definition of ‘progress’ will inevitably vary greatly from person to person and many will perceive what constitutes progress within a movement as regression in disguise.⁴ By using the phrase “regression in disguise,” I am referring to a specific tension that occurs when a social movement re-negotiates itself. Thus the danger of social media sites such as Twitter lies in its exacerbation, rather than its creation, of divides. The Internet allows people to disconnect rather than discuss, to cancel rather than converse. 

The consequences of the ability to unfollow, mute, and even block one another are far-reaching. Far from being solely evident online, these actions erode virtual borders and infiltrate the physical world. An example that encapsulates the power of the Internet can be seen in the run up to the 2016 election, and the subsequent utilization of forums such as Reddit and Twitter to capitalize on the support of online communities.⁵ The increased use of social media has therefore allowed groups to champion their figureheads, providing them with unconditional support and simply cancelling those that disagree. While it has since been removed, the Reddit forum dedicated to supporting President Trump, named r/The_Donald, included a “deport” button (Alba). While all Reddit pages include a “report” button that allows users to flag offensive posts, those that were “deported” were, unsurprisingly, those that dared to question the divine status that the r/The_Donald affords to President Trump. This element of online culture creates an enforced and systemic need to reject, wholesale, any differing opinions—and it is not restricted to right wing sycophants. A similar lack of tolerance is mimicked in real life, and it is difficult to suggest that the Internet has played no part in this process. Similarly, the existence of online petitions such as the one that sought to block Greer from giving a lecture at Cardiff University, amongst a plethora of other examples, suggest that posting on social media platforms has become far more than just an “entertaining hobby.” 

(3) The cancelling of entire belief systems is, unfortunately, a whole other paper, one that already partially exists in the form of Christian Fuchs’s “Herbert Marcuse and Social Media,” in which the social bonds of social media are dissected as forces to reinforce or dismantle ideology (capitalism, for example). 

(4) See: “Is the Current Wave of Feminism Losing Supporters Due to Polarisation?” by Sophie White for an apt description of feminism in-fighting. White likens contemporary feminism to a “many-headed hydra” because “as we slay each tenet of the oppressive, misogynist status quo another immediately grows to take its place.” This leads to an abundance of issues with an abundance of potential solutions and the literal impossible task of knowing which is most valid. 

(5) Woods and Hahner in Make America Meme Again analyze the Internet and make a compelling argument for a more serious discussion of its power.