It is, of course, no coincidence that I am writing this post on International Women's Day. The thoughts I am expressing here have been on my mind for weeks. In conversations, in news reports, through small and large observations, moments of realization are increasingly coming together for me.
It feels as if we are currently experiencing a turning point in history. A collective awakening, a disbelieving rubbing of the eyes. What - war again? What - another big name appearing in the Epstein files? Again and still crimes against humanity, genocide, cyberwars, and right-wing populists everywhere?
I see many events of recent years as part of the same pattern: male dominance culture meets a concentration of financial or political power. The showdown of patriarchy. It's as if a system is imploding and sweeping away everything that stands in its way. It's the big showdown of a global infrastructure of power that created types like Trump and Putin, along with the media propaganda tools that go with it.
I don't yet have the words to describe what is happening right now. I listen to women like Gisèle Pelicot. I try to understand what the victims of the Epstein system have experienced, for example in this documentary. I try to understand what the war in Iran means, especially for women and children. In Iran, in Gaza, in Libanon - everywhere in the region.
Too much is happening to ignore all these events. I am certain that, taken together, they will lead us to find a language with which to talk about these unimaginable acts. To be able to say things that are understood unambiguously by others. To be able to speak precisely, beyond alternative facts or spin doctors who deliberately obscure meanings.
Language regulations
Not calling things by their name has become a political discipline in its own right. It's called language regulation. Essentially, it's about obscuring what's really going on. Genocide? Well, you can't say that. War of aggression? Wait, there are nuances. Rape? We have to weigh that up.
I first became really aware of this in 1998 during the Clinton-Lewinsky scandal. Then-US President Clinton denied under oath that he had had sexual relations with his intern Monica Lewinsky. He used legal technicalities to make his denial appear formally correct. In the course of the affair, he finally had to admit that sexual acts had in fact taken place. By then, however, the whole affair had been so thoroughly dissected and the media focus so intensely directed at Lewinsky and her moral integrity that Clinton was able to continue as president despite numerous efforts to remove him from office.
War as an escalation of male narratives
What is remarkable, both then and now, is the fact that Clinton surprisingly attacked targets in Sudan and Afghanistan at the height of the affair. According to a 1998 report in the German magazine SPIEGEL, the “embattled president tried to shoot his way out of the Monica Lewinsky affair.” That he was willing to risk a confrontation with the entire Islamic world to do so is a side anecdote. Donald Trump, who found himself in increasing trouble in February due to further allegations in the context of the Epstein revelations, used the tried-and-tested playbook of war of aggression and sent bombs to Iran. “Operation Distraction,” comments The Guardian in an article published yesterday.
The German government is speechless in the face of the injustice unfolding before the public eye. Chancellor Friedrich Merz sees a “certain dilemma” in questions of international law surrounding the war of aggression, as can be seen in this report by ZDF heute. How long can one diplomatically duck away from what is happening?
The limits of language as the limits of the world
“The limits of my language mean the limits of my world,” said philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein. By this he meant that our linguistic abilities structure and limit our mental world. What cannot be grasped linguistically remains outside our conscious world.
An interesting example of this is the never-ending debate about gender. Suddenly, many men declared that they no longer felt at home in their own language. A remarkable feeling. Because for many women, migrants, and people outside the social mainstream, this feeling of alienation in language has always been part of everyday life. Always having to think: How do I say this? Can I say that? Is that appropriate? Will I be taken seriously or immediately corrected?
Another aspect when it comes to language and the “limits of the world” is the aspect of truth. In a public sphere that increasingly has to deal with fake news and disinformation campaigns, language becomes unreliable. Words become markers of certain tribes or signals of belonging. Who uses which terms often reveals more about their position than about the facts themselves. How can we communicate about the world when there is no common ground?
Invisible in patriarchy
In moments of hope, it feels to me as if we are now, in the midst of chaos, learning a language that did not exist before. Or perhaps it was always there, but we couldn't hear it. Many women of my generation (GenX) grew up in a world where patriarchy was simply the air we breathed. It was not something you named. Patriarchy was the norm. Men were in charge, men explained the world, men judged our bodies, our ambitions.
For a long time, I thought my biggest achievement was just getting by in this world. I wanted to be seen. I wanted to belong. I wanted to be strong, but in a way that didn't bother anyone. I learned to navigate patriarchy. I learned to adapt, to seek recognition in a system that structurally kept me smaller than I really was. I thought that was normal.
The working mom trope
In the mid-1990s, when I started college, the internet became a mass medium. Getty Images was one of the companies from the early days of the digital economy. To this day, it provides stock photos that typify the world. One image trope that continues to be successful is that of the “working mum” or “tired mom.” All of these images are the same: a baby, a wooden spoon, a pot boiling over on the stove, a laptop, dirty laundry, and in the middle of it all, an attractive, desperate woman who is overwhelmed by it all. For thirty years, photo series and articles have illustrated this motif. Why the hell do we enjoy watching women overwork themselves so much?
That was the big lie of my time: the narrative that women just had to work hard enough, be confident enough, be organized enough—and then they could have it all. As if the problem were individual time management and not structural imbalance.
Still much to be done
I am fortunate to have personal contacts among members of Gen Z. My daughter is one of them. In many ways, this generation is very different from us Gen Xers: Gen Z women recognize a macho when they see one. They know what consent means. They understand the value of care work and are knowledgeable about mental health and work-life balance. They live in a time of formal equality.
And yet, it is also the generation that subjects itself to extreme beauty standards and unrealistic pressure to be perfect. It is the generation that follows conservative dating protocols and has incredible expectations of their partners. It is the generation of tradwives, clean girls, mob wives, and many other typologies that have emerged and become popular through social media.
And this generation is also divided on gender issues. Young men and boys from Gen Z even have more backward views on women than the representatives of the generation before them, as can be seen in a study by the Ipsos research institute. It is striking that the younger the respondents, the more conservative their understanding of gender. Will this never end?
How do I get out of this?
At the beginning of the article, I spoke of a turning point. Of finding a language to clearly and unambiguously describe current events. That this language would give us a framework for action to escape our powerlessness.
As I wrote, I pursued these thoughts further, but I didn't end up where I had intended. I began to doubt whether we had actually reached a turning point. Perhaps my desire for it was greater than the facts I had gathered to support my thesis. That happens.
But it's not really nice. Because instead of running lightly into the home stretch of my article and writing a strong closing sentence, I'm stalling. How do I get out of this text? I've taken you along on my writing journey, into my personal classification and associations, but in the end, I unfortunately have nothing good to offer. It's a no-brainer that we need to talk, to get involved. We all know that. We also know that silence stabilizes power and protects perpetrators.
Perhaps my most important message is that language is not a sideshow. Today, on International Women's Day and every day: whoever controls language controls the world. Let us name what we see: abuse of power, injustice, dominance, oppression, concealment, manipulation. My text is not a conciliatory invitation to dialogue, nor is it a plea for compromise. It is a call to myself: I want to say what is. That is my greatest wish. I don't want to be just a guest in my own world.