Women’s Lib: The Second Wave of Feminism

Mel Sherwood looks back at the emergence of Britain’s Women’s Liberation Movement, and the direct action that paved the way for today’s feminists…

(Original Caption) NEW YORK: WOMEN'S LIBERATION PARADE ON 5TH AVENUE, 8/26/71.

Much like the suffragettes before them, the activists of the Women’s Liberation Movement (WLM) of the 1960s-80s realised that it was deeds, not words, that would win the day. They discovered that they would need to employ shock tactics in their fight, which largely focused on gaining equality in the workplace, in the family and for rights over their own bodies.

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Of course, this direct action went hand in hand with more practical and administrative activism, but it was the subversive and spectacular acts that made it impossible for the world to ignore the inequality they suffered.

Second-wave feminism emerged in the US in the 1960s. When Betty Friedan published The Feminine Mystique in 1963, in which she called out “the problem that has no name” – a widespread unhappiness among the middle-class housewives of America – she opened something of a Pandora’s box. The discontent that she shone a light on was not restricted to the US. Feminists around the world were waking up.

The first action on this side of the pond might, today, seem almost stereotypically polite. In June 1968, 187 female sewing machinists at Ford’s Dagenham factory went on strike. They objected to the fact that they were classed as ‘unskilled’ workers, despite the fact – writes Emmeline Pankhurst’s great-granddaughter Helen in her book Deeds not Words – “that they needed to pass a skills test to be employed”.

Emmeline Pankhurst, founder of the Women's Social and Political Union – the Suffragettes © Getty

This classification meant that they earned less than men in equivalent work. The act may seem civilised enough, but for women to strike at this time took courage and came after years of asking, in vain, for their roles to be reclassified.

On 28 June 1968, all 187 machinists travelled to London and marched the streets of Whitehall before meeting up with MP Barbara Castle, the Employment Secretary. They brokered a deal that ended their three-week strike and which would, ultimately, lead to the momentous Equal Pay Act of 1970.

But it was not exactly a glorious victory for the strikers; their conditions were much improved, but they were still considered ‘unskilled’. They were not reclassified or given equal pay until they striked again in 1984.

Many more controversial feminist strikes followed, including the Night Cleaners’ Campaign of 1970-72, which sought to unionise the victimised and underpaid women who cleaned London’s office blocks at night, and the Grunwick Film Processing Laboratories strike of 1976-78, headed up by Jayaben Desai: “A small, middle-aged woman [who] led the ‘strikers in saris’ on a two-year battle that included a hunger strike,” says Helen Pankhurst in Deeds Not Words.

This fight for better working conditions saw, for the first time in UK history, Asian women at the forefront of a major industrial action. But, more immediately, the Ford strike inspired thousands of activists to come together into what would eventually become the WLM.

At the end of the sixties, this emerging group of women and feminist thinkers was ready to fight for equality. They had lived through a remarkable era of rapid social and cultural change – many were realising that the sexual liberation that the decade brought did not necessarily bring with it the women’s liberation that had been imagined.

Women were still expected to earn less while they worked; to give up work when they got married or became pregnant (being sacked upon announcing a pregnancy was not uncommon); to settle down and be good housewives; and to serve their husbands and children. To see any effective change, they had to get organised and be more than a little bit daring.

Flour power

At the end of February 1970, some 600 activists arrived at Ruskin College, Oxford. Men manned the crèche and made the sandwiches for lunch, while the women settled down for three intensive days of feminist discourse. It was the first conference of its kind in the UK (another seven would follow), and the discussions were groundbreaking.

Delegates from around the world spoke to the engaged and excited audience. They narrowed their objectives down to four key demands, which they believed would benefit all women in all walks of life: equal pay; equal educational and job opportunities; free contraception and abortion on demand; and free 24-hour nurseries.

These were formally adopted at the following conference the next year (a further three were added at a later conference). But it wasn’t all talk, no action. They also planned a demonstration that would capture the whole world’s attention.

In November of 1970, anyone turning on their television to watch the Miss World contest would have been presented with a different spectacle to the one scheduled. Activists descended upon the Royal Albert Hall, the venue for the pageant, to disrupt the event in protest of the way it objectified women. And disrupt it they did, pelting the stage, hosts and participants with flour bombs, tomatoes and stink bombs.

People watching at home even went out into the streets to join the protests, and they caused so much chaos that the event had to be abandoned. Five activists were arrested. Though the press coverage of the protest and the ensuing trials was incredibly negative, Women’s Lib had never been so popular.

Edith Cavell, the WWI nurse who became a symbol of peace © Getty Images

Just a few months later, on 6 March 1971, 4,000 women took to London’s streets for the first Women’s Lib march. The WLMs demands were brandished on banners, while the mob waved washing lines and chanted “One, two, three, four, we want a bloody damn sight more!” They descended on 10 Downing Street to hand over a petition, which called for the government to meet their four demands, after which the march culminated with a series of speakers at Trafalgar Square.

In the months that followed, away from the dramatic spotlight of direct action, there were more practical, local activists working tirelessly for the cause. Hundreds of groups and campaigns emerged, with membership of London’s Women’s Liberation Workshop reportedly rising from 16 to 66 groups.

Such groups would have ranged from refuges that offered women security in the face of domestic violence to basic centres where women could gain free family planning and legal advice. At these hubs, feminist publications were also circulated.

Newsletters and leaflets communicated local feminist news, while magazines such as Spare Rib and, later, Shocking Pink, helped to communicate the messages of the movement, report on any political progress and threats, and to organise and report on direct action – of which there was plenty to discuss.

Though it does not appear among the initial demands, one of the WLM’s great achievements was in making violence against women – a largely invisible crime – visible and impossible to ignore.

There was much activity on this front: rape crisis centres were established, anti-rape conferences were held and, by 1977, there were some 170 Women’s Aid refuges in Britain. Arguably, the centre of activity on this front was Leeds, where the most extreme example of violence against women could be found – the Yorkshire Ripper, later discovered to be Peter Sutcliffe, was at large.

Between 1975 and 1980, Sutcliffe murdered 13 women and assaulted seven more. At the time, the police advised that women should not go out at night, especially not without a male escort. This was hardly the message to send to a group of empowered women, and it was perceived as an extension of victim-blaming: why curfew the potential victims as opposed to the potential perpetrators?

To the feminists of the Leeds area, this could not be borne. Inspired by similar marches in Europe and in Edinburgh, on 12 November 1977 the Leeds Revolutionary Feminist Group organised a women-only ‘Reclaim the Night’ march through the city, with supporting marches elsewhere throughout the country.

Brandishing torches and banners reading ‘No curfew on women – curfew 0n men’, some 130 Leeds women marched a route that covered man of the sites of Sutcliffe’s attacks. This march was controversial for more than just the intended reasons – the organisers were later accused of racism, as there was a lack of sensitivity to issues of diversity, and also sexism, as these marches excluded men and trans people.

Separate agendas

Such rifts had long divided the feminist community, and continue to do so to this day. It is small wonder, then, that through the sixties and seventies, feminism developed a remarkable number of branches.

In her book Radical Feminism, Finn Mackay lists liberal feminism, socialist feminism, anarcho-feminism, black feminism, womanism, eco-feminism, radical feminism, lesbian feminism, separatist feminism, pro-feminism and revolutionary feminism as just some of the schools recognised today.

National lesbian feminist conferences began in 1974, the Organisation of Women of Asian and African Descent formed in 1978 and, in 1979, Southall Black Sisters was founded, in order to support all black and Asian women in the fight against racism and domestic violence.

The extent and diversity of feminist support and action at this time was incredible. The primary concerns had increased from the four demands, too. Objectives ranged from political representation to abortion rights and combating racist immigration laws. There were only a handful of topics that truly united them all, but one of them was violence against women.

Into the 1980s, such campaigns increased and became more militant. Activists occupied the office of The Sun newspaper, “to protest at the use of rape stories for titillation”, explain Joni Lovenduski and Vicky Randall in their book Contemporary Feminist Politics. They also shattered the windows of strip clubs and, in Leeds, “a woman campaigner drove her car through the front of a sex shop”.

It is perhaps all the more alarming then that, today, two more waves of feminism down the line, violence against women, and the sexual coercion of women, are still everyday occurrences. As more and more Harvey Weinstein-like stories pour out of Hollywood, the statistics from the UK deliver just as much cause for concern. According to the March 2016 Crime Survey for England and Wales, 26 per cent of women are victims of domestic abuse in their lifetimes; 21 per cent experience stalking and 20 per cent will be subject to a sexual assault.

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As the Time’s Up campaign says on its website: “The clock has run out on sexual assault, harassment and inequality in the workplace. It’s time to do something about it.” The activists of second-wave feminism would surely agree.