Racial Realities: Social Constructs and the Stuff of Which They Are Made
Eric C. Thompson
Ronald R. Sundstrom
More than Nothing: The Persistence of Islamophobia in ‘Post-Racial’ Racism
Requirements for an Ethics of Race
Racism and Indigenous People in Australia
Intolerant Europe: The Drive against the Roma
The End of Multiculturalism
Beyond Race, Gender, and Class: Reclaiming the Radical Roots of Social-Justice Movements
Indigeneity, Settler Colonialism, White Supremacy
Forging National Unity: Ideas of Race in China
India’s Dalits: Racism and Contemporary Change
Taking Sides on Latin America: The ‘Good’ and ‘Bad’ Left
India and the New Great Game
Volume 12 ● Number 2 ● Summer/Autumn 2010—Race and Racisms
Beyond Race, Gender, and Class: Reclaiming the Radical Roots of Social-Justice Movements
At first glance, that may seem an odd claim to anyone who has studied political and economic realities in the United States and the larger world: injustice in contemporary society is clearly connected to the categories of race, gender, and class. In fact, virtually all the systematic injustices that humans impose on one another in our society are related to these categories, and the resulting injuries are serious and demand attention.
So, let me be clear: I am not accepting the meritocracy claim so often asserted in the United States—that our society provides a level playing field on which the deserving prosper and any inequality is the product of the failure of individuals who do not use the opportunities available to them. When I argue for moving beyond race, gender, and class, I am not pretending the injustice does not exist, but instead want to focus on how the dominant culture in the contemporary United States responds inadequately to the injustice.
Mainstream organisations (governments, corporations, schools, universities, and churches) have been forced by social movements to acknowledge that race, gender, and class matter, but they have tended to respond in limited and superficial ways. These organisations typically adopt a timid “diversity” framework that focuses on culture rather than politics and economics. Those cultural differences are real, of course, and expanding everyone’s understanding of the rich variety of peoples and cultures is a good thing. But much more important is how differences in power have created an unequal distribution of wealth and opportunity because of historical and contemporary injustice. While politically safe diversity training may satisfy the need of administrators to comply with mission statements and non-discrimination policies, it does little to challenge either specific hierarchies or the illegitimate nature of hierarchy itself.
This criticism of a safe and easy multiculturalism—a critique that has been offered for decades by activists and scholars1—is crucial if organisations are to deepen their commitments to social justice and to the institutional change necessary to achieve justice. But at the same time that we maintain that pressure, we should develop strategies for using the spaces created by these mainstream organisations’ need for diversity training. When those of us with a more critical analysis are invited to make a presentation in such settings, what strategies will be most effective? The dilemma is clear: the people organising the event, and many of the members of the audience, may want to avoid a serious critique that goes to the root of the hierarchies, and so presenting an unvarnished radical analysis from the start is likely to alienate them. But if one delivers a safe presentation that doesn’t challenge those hierarchies at the core, then what has been accomplished?
In this essay I report on one such strategy I have developed and believe can be effective in transforming a space designed for a “safe” multicultural diversity experience into a space where potentially “dangerous” critical thinking can occur. I have no pre- and post-workshop survey data to demonstrate attitude changes, the kind of thing that diversity consultants love. I believe the necessary shifts in thinking about hierarchy cannot be measured in simple surveys administered at the end of a short programme. The important questions are not about short-term attitude changes in the moment after a programme, but whether a programme can disrupt conventional thinking and prompt people in positions of unearned power and privilege to confront the systems that give them those perks.
Setting the Stage for Radical Analysis
First, a note about the term “radical”. In some circles this is an intellectual or political slur: “He’s a crazy radical.” In other spaces, it’s a cautionary: “She’s got some good ideas, but she’s really radical.” But in other arenas it is a positive evaluation: “That analysis was radical; it really got to the crucial point.” I use the term in that last sense. “Radical”, we should always remember, is from a Latin word that means “going to the origin”. A radical analysis is one that goes to the root, that looks below the surface. Intellectually, everyone should strive to be radical, no matter what political positions we take. We should always be trying to understand systems—how underlying ideologies and institutional structures shape our world.
When I am invited to speak to a group about diversity, the primary subject I’m usually asked to address is race. I start by acknowledging the enormous advantage that I have in this discussion by being white—the presumption that I am both authoritative and unbiased. Because I’m white, after all, I must be smart and I can’t be accused of harbouring anti-white biases that non-white people are always suspected of holding. Depending on the audience, I may confront those assumptions immediately or I may wait until later in the presentation.
Typically, my first question is, “How many in the room know that racism is bad and the world is diverse?” Almost everyone laughs and raises their hands, of course. My point is that in mainstream institutions in the United States today, no one defends racism and everyone acknowledges diversity. From there I ask, “How many of you have sat through a diversity training where you wanted to scream because the trainer seemed to have little to say beyond that?” Again, people laugh and raise their hands, because most have sat through at least one boring, irrelevant, or just plain stupid diversity training session or classroom discussion. “At some point,” I say, “we’ve all been in a meeting where we got PC’ed to death.” By that, I mean that we have been forced to listen to that polite diversity talk that tells us what we already know and fails to challenge us.
Some people who work for justice might suggest that we shouldn’t denigrate any attempt at promoting multiculturalism, but I have found that acknowledging these experiences establishes an honest bond with the people I’m speaking to, and also marks that I want the session to go deeper. If there is a lot of inadequate training that people have suffered through, why not tell the truth? If those watered-down diversity trainings are turning people off, is it not a good strategy to confront that?
From there, I ask people to engage in one preparatory exercise about identifying values. I ask them to write down the three principles they believe are most central to constructing a decent human society. What concepts are at the core of their philosophy and/or theology? What three words capture that the most clearly? After a minute or two, which is all it takes for most people to ponder the question, I ask them to set that list aside.
Identity, Injury, System
Putting aside that list of ways to describe the world in which we would like to live, I move the group into a discussion of the world in which we live and the relevance of race, gender, and class in that world.
I start by asking what makes the categories of race, gender, and class so important. After all, we could divide the world into a variety of different categories, such as blue eyes v. brown eyes, made famous in Jane Elliot’s exercise.2 We focus on race, gender, and class because of their social significance, especially the discrepancies in power and wealth associated with them. We care about race, gender, and class because of racism, sexism, and classism. Race, gender, and class are identity categories, and if there were no meaningful consequences that flowed from those categories, then the categories would not be central to our analysis of people’s lives. We care because of the racist, sexist, and classist attitudes people hold and because of racist, sexist, and classist actions that some people engage in, resulting in injury to others.
When we talk about identity categories only in the abstract—the language of race, gender, and class—the questions that tend to emerge are relatively safe. What are the differences in black and white religious practices? Are women’s communication patterns different from men’s? What are the differences in taste cultures between professional and working people? Such cultural issues are not trivial, but these questions avoid more basic issues about power and privilege. This next step, from those abstract categories to specific attitudes and injuries, takes us closer to crucial political and economic questions. We can identify the attitudes and investigate how they lead to unjust behaviours. This helps us focus not on cultural differences but on concrete outcomes. But one more step remains, the question of where those attitudes and behaviours come from. What are the underlying systems out of which those injuries arise?
To sum up: we commonly talk about the effects of race, gender, and class on individuals, institutions, and society, but those categories often remain rather abstract. Why do we care about them? Because racist, sexist, and classist behaviours cause injuries. The attitudes that lead to those injuries don’t fall from the sky but arise out of systems. How would we name those systems? If we really care about creating a more just world, then we have to name those systems and understand how they work.
This logic is difficult to argue with. We all understand that the systems that structure our society have a profound influence on how we think and act. To understand those systems within which we operate, we look at ideological underpinnings (how we come to think about the world) and material realities (how the world comes to be as a result of actions that flow from that thinking). We understand that the material realities also affect the ideological underpinnings; how people live in the world shapes how they come to view it. To understand a society, we ask how people think about the world in ideological terms and how the world is ordered in material terms.
Where does this logic lead us? In an effective diversity training session, participants should seek to identify and understand those fundamental systems within which we operate. We move from race and racism to what? From gender and sexism to what? From class and classism to what?
The answers are straightforward: white supremacy, patriarchy, and capitalism.
The systems that give rise to race/racism, gender/sexism, and class/classism are white supremacy, patriarchy, and capitalism. Once named, it’s possible to talk about the ideological and material realities of those systems. But just getting to this point is itself an achievement. It’s an important move simply to name the systems because so many in the culture want to believe that we have moved beyond white supremacy and created a “post-racial” society; that “patriarchy” is an old-fashioned term no longer relevant; that capitalism is the ultimate expression of freedom, not an engine of inequality.
From there, new space opens up to define and describe those systems, to explain why using those terms to describe the systems in which we live is not only relevant today but crucial to any accurate assessment of political, economic, and social realities. In each category, the dominant culture will push back against a radical analysis, but in different ways. The task is to sharpen our understanding of the systems so we can respond to the dominant culture’s denial of those realities.
In the United States today, everyone except an overt racist acknowledges our white-supremacist past and condemns the inherent injustice of that system, though often qualifying this position with a demand that we see those historical crimes “in context”. That leads to routine denial of the extent of the genocidal campaigns against indigenous people, the degree to which economic development was the product of African slave labour, the depth of the exploitation of Asian workers, and the brutal consequences of the US aggression that took over Mexican territory.
Even with that hedging, white supremacy is widely understood to be a moral evil. That’s why in the dominant culture the term “white supremacist” is applied only to overt racists, such as members of neo-Nazi groups or the Ku Klux Klan, and is not used to describe US society. Given the achievements of a civil-rights movement that ended formal apartheid and the election of an African American president, asserting that the United States remains a white-supremacist society provokes resistance. But what are the ideological and material realities?
First, the ideological: studies consistently show that white-supremacist attitudes endure, even in people who are not overtly racist. Equivalent résumés sent to employers produce higher call-back rates for a job interview when the applicant has a white-sounding name rather than a black-sounding name.3 White people watching a video of a neighbourhood evaluate the quality of the place as lower if there are non-white people walking the streets as opposed to white people in the frame.4 Whatever the stated beliefs of white America, racist attitudes are deeply woven into the fabric of the culture. That’s how we think, feel, and react.
Second, the material: there is a racialised gap on measures of wealth and well-being in the United States. On average, white people are doing better than non-white people, and the gap between white and black America is particularly pronounced. Even more dramatic is the fact that on some of those measures the gap between white and black has grown in the decades since the legislative achievements of the civil-rights movement, while on other measures the pace of the march to equality is so slow that it will be decades or centuries before we reach parity.5
The United States is the most affluent society in history. It is also a nation with a “can-do” spirit that believes that anything it wants to achieve can be achieved. If the wealthiest nation in history claims to be committed to the end of racial injustice but remains white supremacist, both in ideological and material terms, what is the appropriate term to describe the racial system of the contemporary United States?
Talk of a “post-racial” America is absurd. The United States remains a white-supremacist society.
In the United States today, “patriarchy” also is assumed to be a term appropriate only to describe our past or other present-day societies. For most of US history, women were either property or second-class citizens, denied the rights of men in the political and economic arenas. The culture acknowledges that history, though underplaying the depth of the dehumanisation of women during that phase of patriarchy, which had its illusions about “putting women on a pedestal”.
If the term “patriarchy” is heard in contemporary conversation it might be applied to fundamentalist Mormon men who reign over polygamist communities, but not to US society. Given the achievements of the suffragist and women’s liberation movements in the twentieth century and the fact that a woman came close to winning a major party’s nomination for president in the twenty-first century, asserting that the United States remains a patriarchal society provokes resistance. But what are the ideological and material realities?
First, the ideological: unlike the discourse on race, that on gender has not seen all of polite society reject male dominance. The term “patriarchy”, with its connotations of an almost feudal status for women, may be rejected, but two forms of patriarchal ideology remain strong. One is a theological version, seen most clearly in conservative Christian circles. Men—that is, husbands in heterosexual marriages—are regarded as the natural head of a household, charged by God with leadership responsibilities. The man should exercise that power responsibly, but exercise it he must, and women find their place in that chain of command.6 There’s also a secular version of this, flowing not from belief in a divinely mandated order but from what is claimed to be the immutable reality of our evolutionary history.7 Instead of recognising patriarchy as a recent phenomenon, dating back only about ten thousand years, this secular version misreads human history as being patriarchal from the start. On this view, for example, male promiscuity is seen as “natural” and not a product of a male-dominant culture.
Second, the material: one measure of the status of a class of people is the violence perpetrated upon them, and the data on men’s violence against women make it clear how deeply entrenched patriarchy remains. We live in a culture in which men are trained to see themselves as naturally dominant and women as naturally passive, in which women are objectified and women’s sexuality is commodified, in which men eroticise women’s subordinate status. The predictable result is a world in which violence, sexualised violence, sexual violence, and violence-by-sex are so common that they must be considered to be normal, that is, an expression of the sexual norms of the culture, not violations of the norms.
Studies over the years have suggested varying rape rates. For many years, anti-rape activists quoted the statistic that one in three girls is sexually abused in the United States and that 38 per cent of women reported sexual abuse before the age of eighteen.8 A recent review of the data by well-respected researchers concluded that in the United States, at least one out of every six women has been raped at some time in her life, a figure that is now widely accepted.9 In addition to those acts legally defined as rape, women routinely experience various levels of sexual intrusion—sexual taunting on the streets, sexual harassment in schools and workplaces, coercive sexual pressure in dating, sexual assault, and violence with a sexual theme. Given the intense societal pressure on women and children not to talk about their experiences, we are unlikely ever to know exactly how much sexual violence and abuse there is in this culture. But we do know that the amount is so great that we live in a woman-hating world. No society would let happen what happens to women if at some level the people with power and privilege did not have contempt for them.
Talk of a “post-patriarchal” America is absurd. The United States remains a male-dominant society.
In the United States today, class is a confused and confusing subject. Some want to pretend that because the United States broke with the aristocratic traditions of Europe, we are a classless society. But with cultural and economic class divisions so obvious, that claim is difficult to justify. When critics of the inequality in capitalist societies raise concerns, they are often accused by conservatives of fomenting “class warfare”, as if identifying class divisions that exist is the problem rather than the inequality itself.
This is compounded by the common assumption that there is no possible way to organise an economy except on capitalist—and now large-scale corporate capitalist—principles. The welcome demise of the Soviet model of authoritarian central planning has led to an assertion of false alternatives: Communism failed, so capitalism is the only option. Business propaganda prefers that people not consider whether there might be other alternatives besides state domination or corporate domination. So, unlike white supremacy (which is denounced, at least in theory) and patriarchy (which is endorsed by some and denounced by others), capitalism is not only widely accepted but celebrated. But what are the ideological and material realities?
First, the ideological: capitalism creates hierarchy, but it makes a moral claim for that hierarchy. Such inequality is said to be necessary to motivate people, who are greedy and self‑interested by nature. Are people greedy and self-interested? Of course. But people are also compassionate and capable of self-sacrifice for others without reward. Is one aspect of our nature dominant over the other? History suggests that the type of society in which we live will shape people; we respond to the rewards and punishments of the systems that structure our lives. Advocates of capitalism point to people’s greedy behaviour in a system that rewards greed as evidence of the “naturalness” of the system, hoping we won’t notice the circular logic. Some even argue that without greed-based incentives, people would not be able to survive. Yet given that capitalism is only about two centuries old, this assertion is viable only if we ignore the rich history of human organisations based on other assumptions.
Second, the material: while it’s true that capitalism is the most productive economic system in history, we should ask two critical questions about that production. One, who needs all this stuff? Has the production of endless cheap disposable consumer goods been healthy for the planet or people? Two, how is the wealth generated by this system distributed? Here the data are quite clear: inequality in the United States and worldwide is a permanent feature of capitalism, and the gap between rich and poor is growing. In the United States, the top 1 per cent of households own about 35 per cent of privately held wealth, and the top 20 per cent of people own 85 per cent. That means the bottom 80 per cent of the population share the remaining 15 per cent of the wealth.10
Talk of capitalism as the inevitable, natural, morally superior economic system is absurd. There is class warfare in the United States, and the rich are fomenting it and winning.
A third of the people on the planet have to live on less than $2 per day, while half live on less than $2.50 a day.11 Let that statistic sink in: more than three billion people survive—struggling for food, shelter, clothing, education, medical care—on less than what one of us in the developed world might spend on a fancy cup of coffee one morning. The people living at that level of poverty are disproportionately non-white and female. They live mostly in a Third World that has suffered, and continues to suffer, from military and/or economic domination by the First World, especially today by the United States. That is the reality of a white-supremacist and patriarchal world with an economy organised by transnational corporate capitalism.
Facing that reality, a diversity/multiculturalism agenda that takes existing institutions and systems as a given, limiting its goals to creating more opportunities within those systems for previously excluded people or encouraging acceptance of other cultures, is, frankly, a bad joke. Again, expanded opportunity for all and deeper cultural awareness are good things, but they are not the core of a programme to create a more just world.
Why should we assume a more just world is everyone’s goal? At this point in my presentation, I ask people to return to the values they jotted down—that list of the three values that are central to constructing a decent human society—and shout out the words and phrases. The most common terms that emerge are “justice”, “equality”, “compassion”, “honesty”, “opportunity”, “sharing”, and similar terms. I suggest that one way to summarise those responses is as indicating (1) belief in the inherent dignity of all human beings; (2) the importance of a sense of solidarity with one another; and (3) the necessity of striving to achieve a rough equality so that everyone has access to the material requirements for a decent life. That list does not assume that people are morally perfect or perfectible, but instead articulates common aspirations for ourselves, others, and society.
The next question: how do the material and ideological realities of the society in which you live conform to your stated values? Here I am trying to make it clear that I am not suggesting that everyone adopt my values but that they use their own deeply held values as a starting point, and ask a simple question: are the systems that structure the world in which you live consistent with your values? If not, then the logical next step is to make a commitment to changing those systems.
Yet we know that most people do not make that commitment. Some will deny there is a problem, while others simply turn away from the injustice and avoid the issues. Frankly, I am not much concerned with those folks; in my experience, very few of them will become politically active in movements for radical social change. More interesting to me are those who recognise the injustice but are unwilling to embrace a radical analysis. These people typically offer their energy and resources to more conventional causes and movements, hoping that they can find a path that allows them to feel good about themselves without taking the risks that come with that radical analysis and action.
In my experience, the most common way in which people make their peace with that choice is to accept the claim that hierarchy and injustice are inevitable, and that the best we can do is try to smooth off the rough edges of such systems. Answering that claim is important, and it also presents an opportunity to talk about the similarities among systems of injustice. Each system of power and oppression is unique in its own way, but there are certain features in common. There follows a summary of the problem and a suggested response.
How do we explain the fact that most people’s stated philosophical and theological value-systems are rooted in concepts of equality, solidarity, and the inherent dignity of all people, yet we allow violence, exploitation, and oppression to flourish? Only a small percentage of people in any given society are truly sociopaths, who engage in cruel and oppressive behaviour openly and with relish. The process for most people tends to work like this:
• The systems and structures in which we live are hierarchical.
• Hierarchical systems and structures deliver to those in the dominant class certain privileges, pleasures, and material benefits.
• People are typically hesitant to give up such privileges, pleasures, and benefits.
• But, those benefits clearly come at the expense of those in the subordinated class.
• Given the widespread acceptance of basic notions of equality and human rights, the existence of hierarchy has to be justified in some way other than crass self-interest.
• One of the most persuasive arguments for systems of domination and subordination is that they are “natural”.
So, oppressive systems work hard to make it appear that the hierarchy—and the disparity in power and resources that flow from hierarchy—is natural and, therefore, beyond modification. If white people are naturally smarter and more virtuous than people of colour, then white supremacy is inevitable and justifiable. If men are naturally smarter and stronger than women, then patriarchy is inevitable and justifiable. If rich people are naturally smarter and harder-working than poor people, then economic inequality is inevitable and justifiable.
As John Stuart Mill noted in his argument for women’s rights, “[W]as there ever any domination which did not appear natural to those who possessed it?”12 For unjust hierarchies, and the illegitimate authority that is exercised in them, maintaining their naturalness is essential. Not surprisingly, people in the dominant class exercising the power gravitate easily to such a view. And because of their power to control key story-telling institutions (especially education and mass communication), those in the dominant class can fashion a story about the world that leads some portion of the people in the subordinate class to internalise the ideology.
Unequal and Unsustainable
Making these arguments won’t magically lead people to embrace a radical analysis. In that moment, it’s unlikely anyone will make a dramatic shift. For some people, the argument may, in that moment, spark a backlash leading to anger at anyone making the argument. But as I suggested, we can’t evaluate the success of an argument and rhetorical strategy in the short term.
In my experience, this approach to the topic of race, gender, and class has two positive features. Although the key terms (“white supremacy”, “patriarchy”, “capitalism”) are not part of most people’s vocabulary, the argument is articulated without specialised language and jargon. My analysis is rooted in a left/feminist politics, but I work hard to explain that politics in everyday language that is accessible and does not evoke negative connotations of doctrinaire thinking and sectarian politics.
The other benefit comes from planting seeds of doubt and creating tension. People may not endorse my conclusions, but because the argument works from a simple logic and draws on their own values, it’s difficult to dismiss it as simply crazy. If people leave thinking, “Well, there might be something to this radical analysis,” or “I have to think about some of my assumptions about hierarchy,” that is a victory.
The ability to critique the false naturalising of hierarchy within the human family is more important than ever. By recognising how the domination/subordination dynamic in human relationships is inconsistent with our most basic moral principles, we sharpen our ability to see the way the human species has played this same game against the rest of the planet. As we untangle the sources of what a 2005 United Nations report called “The Inequality Predicament”, we can see more clearly the ecological predicament we find ourselves in. Human domination of the planet has so degraded the ecosystem on which our own lives depend that it’s no longer clear how long the planet can sustain human life as we know it.
Take a look at any measure of the fundamental health of the planetary ecosystem on which we are dependent: topsoil loss, chemical contamination of soil and water, species extinction and reduction in biodiversity, the state of the world’s oceans, unmanageable toxic waste problems, and climate change. Take a look at the data, and the news is bad on every front. And all of this is in the context of the dramatic decline impending in the highly concentrated energy available from oil and natural gas, and the increased climate disruption that will come if we keep burning the still-abundant coal reserves. There are no replacement fuels on the horizon that will allow a smooth transition.
Bill McKibben, one of our most astute observers of these trends, suggests we rename our planet, calling it “Eaarth” to recognise just how much has changed:
The planet on which our civilization evolved no longer exists. The stability that produced that civilization has vanished; epic changes have begun. We may, with commitment and luck, yet be able to maintain a planet that will sustain some kind of civilization, but it won’t be the same planet, and hence it won’t be the same civilization. The earth that we knew—the only earth that we ever knew—is gone.13
We live in a world in collapse, and if there is hope of reversing that collapse it will require dramatically new ways of thinking about our relationship to self, others, and other living things. Let’s return to that UN report on inequality:
Ignoring inequality in the pursuit of development is perilous. Focusing exclusively on economic growth and income generation as a development strategy is ineffective, as it leads to the accumulation of wealth by a few and deepens the poverty of many; such an approach does not acknowledge the intergenerational transmission of poverty.14
Ignoring ecological collapse in the pursuit of growth is equally perilous. Hierarchical systems of all kinds are perilous to justice and sustainability. Just as the hierarchies that dominate human societies have no moral justification, so too the human domination of the rest of the planet is ethically ungrounded. To refuse to recognise that not only makes it impossible to fashion a decent human future, it may well imperil any human future at all.
2. See “A Class Divided”, Frontline, Public Broadcasting Service [http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/divided/]. For more on Jane Elliott, see “Jane Elliott’s Blue Eyes/Brown Eyes Exercise” [http://www.janeelliott.com/].
3. See Marianne Bertrand and Sendhil Mullainathan, “Are Emily and Greg More Employable than Lakisha and Jamal? A Field Experiment on Labor Market Discrimination”, American Economic Review 94, no. 4 (September 2004), pp. 991–1013. See also Devah Pager, Marked: Race, Crime, and Finding Work in an Era of Mass Incarceration (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007).
4. Maria Krysan, Reynolds Farley, and Mick P. Couper, “In the Eye of the Beholder: Racial Beliefs and Residential Segregation”, Du Bois Review 5, no. 1 (2008), pp. 5–26.
5. I summarise this data in my book The Heart of Whiteness: Confronting Race, Racism and White Privilege (San Francisco: City Lights Books, 2005), pp. 4–6. See also Ajamu Dillahunt et al., “State of the Dream 2010: Drained—Jobless and Foreclosed in Communities of Color”, United for a Fair Economy, Boston, Mass., January 2010 [http://www.faireconomy.org/files/SoD_2010_Drained_Report.pdf].
6. This was a key part of the Promise Keepers movement. See Russ Bellant, “Christian Soldiers for Theocracy”, Front Lines Research 1, no. 5 (May 1995). Also available at [http://www.publiceye.org/eyes/promkeep.html].
7. For a discussion of how this ideology is used in discussions of sexual violence, see Cheryl Brown Travis, ed., Evolution, Gender, and Rape (Cambridge: MIT Press, 2003).
8. See Diana E. H. Russell, Sexual Exploitation: Rape, Child Sexual Abuse, and Workplace Harassment (Beverly Hills: Sage, 1984), pp. 285–6.
9. Patricia Tjaden and Nancy Thoennes, “Extent, Nature, and Consequences of Rape Victimization: Findings from the National Violence against Women Survey”, US Department of Justice, Office of Justice Programs, National Institute of Justice, Washington, D.C., January 2006 [http://www.ncjrs.gov/pdffiles1/nij/210346.pdf].
10. G. William Domhoff, “Wealth, Income, and Power”, WhoRulesAmerica.net, July 2010 [http://sociology.ucsc.edu/whorulesamerica/power/wealth.html].
11. World Bank, World Development Report 2008: Agriculture for Development (Washington, D.C.: World Bank, October 2007).
12. John Stuart Mill, The Subjection of Women (New York: D. Appleton and Company, 1869), p. 21.
13. Bill McKibben, Eaarth: Making Life on a Tough New Planet (New York: Times Books/Henry Holt, 2010), p. 25.
14. United Nations, Report on the World Social Situation 2005: The Inequality Predicament (New York: United Nations Publications, 2005).