“I want to be a billionaire.”
My friend demanded an answer. “How?”
“Maybe I’ll go to Trump University,” I responded with a laugh.
Though this conversation took place years ago during junior high school, I can still recite it from memory. Maybe because it still stands to date as one of the funniest jokes I’ve ever made. I recall it now because it so perfectly demonstrated my neoliberal belief system at the time. “Liberal,” because I disliked the conservative extremism of Trump and his followers. However, I still trusted in a capitalistic system and looked at most political issues, such as feminism, through this economic lens.
I was quite infatuated with choice feminism. I wanted to be a “#girlboss.” The term is defined as “the melding of professional self, identity, and capitalist aspiration.”
I wanted to become a billionaire CEO of a company, not because I knew what such a job would entail, but because that was what I was told I should become; the money didn’t hurt. CEO was the pinnacle of success within a capitalistic system. Why wouldn’t I want to reach the apex of society?
Even though the upper echelon of corporate spaces are exclusively designed for White men, I wanted to carve out a spot for myself. My parents would often share with me speeches delivered by corporate leaders such as Indra Nooyi, the CEO of the PepsiCo corporation. Success, for a brown woman like her and myself, was to occupy a space that had been historically reserved for White men. In my mind, feminism was about breaking the glass ceiling. Although, at first glance, this sounds empowering, I grappled with the following question: Would my personal, corporate success benefit any other woman’s well-being?
Capitalism is defined by its reliance on individuality. Choice feminism sees an unmistakable parallel to capitalism with its investment in individuality by “encouraging women to embrace the opportunities they have in life and to see the choices they make as justified and always politically acceptable.” “Girl-bossing” is an extension of choice feminism within the corporate world, mutating feminism into a personal rather than a collective, liberatory issue for women of all stripes.
Indra Nooyi, my parents’ favorite role model, is a perfect example of this phenomenon. Although she girl-bossed her way to the top, her success hasn’t had a positive impact on women or people in general. In fact, under her leadership, Pepsico has received multiple allegations of human rights violations within the production process and was found to be lobbying against crucial public health measures across the country. Neither of these instances can be branded as a positive contribution to women or society in general. Is it inherently feminist to become a CEO of a large multinational corporation? Should personal success within an oppressive capitalistic system be the final goal of feminism? Indra Nooyi’s example makes the answer clear: No.
One may argue that these female CEOs are empowered to make the choices that they do, which could be perceived as “feminist.” But the reality is that their choices aren’t made in a vacuum. The ethical value of their choices are defined by their impact on the collective rather than the individual. Analyzing choice feminism through the lens of utilitarianism, it becomes clear that choice feminism is morally reprehensible because of its selfish nature. This example elucidates the importance of assessing a choice’s collective impact on the majority when determining its feministic qualities.
The collective impact of choice feminism and — by extension — girlboss feminism is highly problematic. Natalie Jovanovski, a sociologist at Swinburne University of Technology in Australia, argues that choice feminism “doesn’t demand significant social change, and [it] effectively undermines calls for collective action. Basically, it asks nothing of you and delivers nothing in return.”
Since choice feminism is rooted in individualism, it’s also intrisically tied to capitalism and lacks a deep analysis of how class and race intersect with gender. We continue the status quo, an inherently unjust capitalistic society, under the guise of gender equality. Although girl-bossing is perceived positively due to the replacement of White men as corporate leaders, womanhood should not be defined in opposition to masculinity. As the late Prime Minister of India Indira Gandhi explained, “to be liberated, woman must feel free to be herself, not in rivalry to man but in the context of her own capacity and her personality.”
Equality with men, within a problematic capitalistic system, isn’t something we should aspire to. Aeon reporter Livia Gershon explains that “for many working-class women today, full equality with their male peers would still mean stagnant wages and unstable jobs with erratic hours.” Gender equality in the context of significant socioeconomic disparities is inadequate.
Furthermore, choice and girlboss feminism don’t adequately address racialized misogyny. Much of the discrimination Black and brown women face stems from their intersectional identities as women of color. As the United Nations (UN) entity “UN Women” so aptly puts it, “long histories of violence and systematic discrimination have created deep inequities that disadvantage some from the outset.” Choice feminism’s roots in capitalism does not address any of the unique oppressions women of color face, and instead benefits and upholds the very systems that perpetuate these inequalities in the first place.
Through promoting a single woman’s choice and autonomy, we undercut efforts to act collectively and undermine the systems that actively oppress us. Choice feminism and its weaponization won’t mitigate violence against women or counter unequal access to contraception and abortion. Instead, choice feminism in the form of “Girlbossification” prioritizes individual success at the extreme detriment of other women. It maintains oppressive policies that negatively impact communities of color and low-income individuals.
Simply put, equality and individual success aren’t enough. I want collective liberation.
The original artwork for this article was created by Harvard College student Duncan Glew for the exclusive use of the HPR.
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