Every few months, online discourse is sparked by a celebrity breakup, and a so-called ‘homewrecker’ is pushed into the spotlight. These debacles divide the internet, with one camp dubbing someone a ‘homewrecker’ and the other half insisting that the very notion of a homewrecker is deeply misogynistic and that the alleged unfaithful partner is solely responsible for the infidelity.
It’s intriguing to witness feminist politics being brandished to support women who, fifteen years ago, would have uncontroversially been dubbed the guilty party. Sure, it’s encouraging that people are calling out the undoubtedly sexist dynamics that see women condemned and men absolved for the same behaviour, but I wonder if a little nuance is missing here. Would we be so quick to apply these lofty feminist principles to our personal lives?
Allow me to be vulnerable for a moment and say, ‘If my partner left me for another woman, I’d be mad at him. And the woman.’ Does that make me unfeminist?
Let’s talk girl code: the unwavering yet unwritten loyalty that supposedly exists between all women. It’s undoubtedly a shallow, patronising, and outdated concept. Still, it’s the first thing we think of when we’re screwed over by another woman. I can think of many instances when friends have begun a sentence with, “I know this isn’t very feminist of me, but…” before voicing their frustration over an unspeakably cruel thing that another woman has done to them, whether it’s making a backhanded compliment or sleeping with their partner. Yes, we know our anger should be directed at the disloyal partner, but why are we expected to ignore the anger we feel for the other party?
During celebrity cheating scandals, attention tends to land on the ‘Other Woman’ – which I’ll define here as a woman engaged in a sexual relationship with a man (for this discourse is depressingly heterosexual) who is already in an established monogamous relationship with another woman – rather than the so-called ‘Scorned Woman’ AKA the woman whose partner is secretly engaging in a sexual relationship with another person.
By virtue of her unavailability, the Other Woman [OW] is afforded an element of glamour that, from the perspective of a hapless man with a wandering eye, is always lacking in a long-term partner. But that doesn’t save her from the rest of the world’s ire (and misogyny).
Long before we could share our witty political assessments on social media, public discourse surrounding infidelity, particularly the OW, was largely decided by journalists at major tabloids and talk-show hosts who relished the opportunity to dunk on women without reproach. In 1998, Monica Lewinsky, a young White House intern who had a short affair with then-President Bill Clinton, was relentlessly fat-shamed and slut-shamed by the mainstream press. Jay Leno, for example, targeted Lewinsky over 450 times during his 22-year reign as host of The Tonight Show.
This sexist rhetoric has plagued many famous women accused of being the OW, including Angelina Jolie, Kristen Stewart, and LeAnn Rimes.
Previously, an occupational hazard of being an OW was the lack of support available from other women. When girl code reigned supreme, the OW was considered public enemy No.1. The idea went that under a patriarchal society, in which men continually find new ways to hurt us, the least ‘us girls’ could do is stick together.