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Saturday, September 26, 2026

‘To create model social institutions’: The international Communist Women’s Movement, reproductive labor and the politics of care, 1920–1936

March 8 Soviet poster

First published at Red Threads.

Founded in 1920 as the women’s organization of the Communist International (Comintern), the Communist Women’s Movement (CWM) fought for complete gender equality and the full integration of women into economic, political, and social life. The movement viewed women’s emancipation as an integral element of socialist transformation. Some of the international campaigns that the CWM carried out in its early years concerned primarily working women (which included industrial women workers, housewives, intellectuals, peasants, and servants), such as the struggle for women’s participation in politics, labor rights, and unionization. Among the CWM’s central objectives was the socialization of housework and care, which Communist women conceptualized as the “social economy.”1 This implied complete rethinking and reorganization of reproductive labor and, more broadly, social reproduction.

The following analysis is anchored in CWM’s programmatic documents and unexplored discussions within the CWM’s central executive body, the International Women’s Secretariat (IWS).2 It looks into some internationally coordinated campaigns led by Communist women in the 1920s and 1930s in Europe and beyond around the socialization of housework, care, and state-supported motherhood. I argue that from 1920 onward, Communist women pioneered efforts to link social reproduction to women’s unwaged labor and care work.3 Communist women discussed the economic and social conditions necessary for mothers and families, attentive to class, ethnic, and racial inequalities. This way they formulated core principles of intersectionality and reproductive justice before these frameworks entered mainstream feminist discourse.

This article begins by analyzing the CWM’s conceptualization of housework and care — through policies that were strikingly avant-garde for the 1920s, yet subsequently formed the foundation of post-WWII welfare states worldwide. It then traces how these concepts intersected with their revolutionary vision of motherhood. By shedding light on differences between Communist and Socialist positions, this study demonstrates how the CWM navigated the ideological intricacies of the Comintern’s Left Turn and Popular Front while remaining faithful to the earlier conceptualizations of reproductive labor and working motherhood.

‘Transform the housewife from a slave of the small individual economy into a free toiler in the larger social economy’:4 The CWM’s early vision of reproductive labor

While discussing housework and care, the CWM proposed a concrete plan of transformation of reproductive labor into a socialized industry. Communist women integrated this plan into their programmatic document — “Guidelines for the Communist Women’s Movement” — discussed and elaborated at their founding conference held in Moscow in 1920. This conference brought together over fifty Communist women delegates from Europe, Asia, and North America.5 The initial draft of the “Guidelines” was prepared by Clara Zetkin, a leading German Communist, women’s rights advocate, and from 1920 the de facto head of the IWS, in advance of the 1920 conference. After delegate discussion, it was amended later that year by a specially appointed commission headed by Zetkin. Among many other points, the “Guidelines” urged the transformation of housekeeping, characterized as “the most backward, deformed, and stultifying of the old guild handicrafts” into “the general social economy.”6

Delegates at the first conference were also very enthusiastic about the Soviet experience as, since the October 1917 revolution, the Bolshevik government had acknowledged housework as a major means of women’s subordination. Lenin spoke about how paid work and housework kept women “in a state of double slavery.”7 Alexandra Kollontai, a prominent Russian revolutionary and women’s rights activist, one of the founders of the Soviet Zhenotdel (Women’s Department of the Soviet Communist Party) and the CWM, who in 1917 became the first female minister in history, wrote in 1920: “The individual household is dying. It is giving way in our society to collective housekeeping. Instead of the working woman cleaning her flat, the communist society can arrange for men and women whose job it is to go around in the morning cleaning rooms.”8 Soviet authorities set up public amenities offering different kinds of services (child day care, public kitchens, canteens, communal laundries and cleaning facilities, etc.), although their funding often represented a challenge.

Communist women from outside the Soviet Union spoke about the necessity to elaborate a concrete plan to ease the traditional burden of women in newly socialist countries as well as in capitalist ones. The “Guidelines” analyzed housekeeping as a form of reproductive labor used in capitalism to keep men’s wages low (since the labor of housewives was unpaid) and women intellectually and politically backward by blocking their participation in society. Referring to the Soviet context, the “Guidelines” further insisted on the “creat[ion of] model social institutions that take over women’s economic tasks in the family,” fully involving women themselves in the development of such measures and the creation of relevant infrastructure.9 For women in capitalist (and precapitalist) countries, the “Guidelines” suggested striving for the establishment of similar institutions.

The idea of socializing housework and care was not new in the socialist world. In fact, a few socialist theoreticians had discussed the necessity to liberate women from housekeeping or care labor. August Bebel, in Women under Socialism (1879) promoted radical goals that encompassed the overthrow of patriarchy in domestic spaces. Friedrich Engels expressed similar ideas in his Origin of the Family, Private Property, and the State (1884). However, the CWM’s attention to women’s unpaid care work as directly linked to women’s emancipation was novel in a socialist policy document; it was not present, for example, in the Second (Socialist) International’s program. In this way, the Communist program put “the woman question” at the very center of the socialist project, underlining that women’s emancipation — in both the public and private spheres — was not merely a consequence, but the very goal of socialist transformation.

‘To ease, supplement and improve the work of mothers’: The CWM’s early policies on motherhood, family, and care

Housekeeping and unpaid care work were linked to a revolutionary rethinking of motherhood by Communist women. The CWM’s “Guidelines” rejected the “old petty-bourgeois” view of childrearing as women’s sole calling. Throughout the 1920s, most CWM sections and leaders supported the freedom of choice to have or not to have children and protested anti-abortion laws which were prevalent in most countries across Europe and beyond. Yet Communist women sought to enable the combination of motherhood and work through institutionalized state aid.

Clara Zetkin advocated state support for mothers, seeing motherhood as strengthening the proletarian state. She favored protective labor laws, hospitals, and maternity provisions. Alexandra Kollontai was a long-time supporter of state assistance to mothers, independently of their marital status. Her 1916 Society and Motherhood defined childbearing as a social responsibility, to be shared between the family and society. Kollontai exposed the stark class divide in how motherhood was treated under capitalism, contrasting the protection afforded to bourgeois women with the brutal exploitation of working-class mothers. She argued that the state was to assume collective responsibility for maternal welfare through paid maternity leave, workplace protections, material benefits, and socialization of childcare, all of which she linked to communist social transformation. Kollontai drew inspiration from August Bebel but also the Russian revolutionary democrat Nikolai Dobrolyubov and such feminists as Lily Braun or Helene Stöcker.10 Kollontai argued that both the mother and the socialized institutions were to ensure the children’s wellbeing. In 1918, as Minister of Social Welfare, she played a key role in shaping Soviet decrees that legally safeguarded motherhood and introduced socialized childcare. Other Soviet decrees reinforced the position of women in the family: women’s divorce rights, civil marriage, and equal status for “legitimate” and “illegitimate” children.

The CWM followed this example, integrating into its “Guidelines” the state’s duty to harmonize motherhood with employment outside of the home via public care institutions for maternity, children, and youth. The CWM also drew on the Soviet Labor Code to advance ambitious demands for working mothers outside the Soviet Union. Throughout the 1920s, they campaigned in most European countries for nine months of postnatal benefits, medically supervised deliveries, sixteen weeks of maternity leave, a six-hour day for nursing mothers with possibility to breastfeed at work, and free daycare/school amenities.11

Although many of the CWM’s demands were more radical than those of socialists and social democrats in Europe and beyond, up until 1928, the CWM often organized campaigns in collaboration with socialist women. Many of the latter shared CWM’s vision — albeit, and hélas, most of these campaigns were unsuccessful. This collaboration was in line with the united front policy that the Comintern had adopted in 1921. It called for common action with reformist organizations and trade unions, in specific, limited fights around the defense of workers’ immediate interests. Although many Communist women and men, especially outside of Soviet Union, initially criticized this policy, by 1922 Comintern sections around the world embraced it without abandoning the perspective of world revolution altogether. The CWM’s leadership and Zetkin, in particular, supported the united front strategy, for which she was severely criticized within the German Communist Party.

No Kinder, Küche, Kirche: Communist and socialist diverging visions of motherhood and care

Collaboration with socialists, however, had always been fragile due to major ideological differences between revolutionaries and reformists. It became particularly problematic after the Comintern’s Left Turn of 1928, during the so-called Third Period (1928–34) — the third phase in the post-World War I development of capitalist countries. In Comintern discourse, the Third Period followed revolutionary upheaval and capitalist stabilization, defined by sharper contradictions, economic crisis, and working-class radicalization. This analysis compelled a global “Left Turn” ending the united front with non-communist forces. Events in 1926–27 seemed to confirm this course: the Chinese revolution’s defeat, Britain’s severance of ties with the USSR, Austrian Social Democrats ignoring a communist general strike call, and the dissolution of the Anglo-Russian Trade Union Committee, all suggested the moderate left had turned its back on the “Reds.” The Left Turn thus reflected communist experiences in a hostile political context. The Sixth Comintern Congress (July–August 1928) officially adopted this policy, urging greater mobilization and radicalization against social democrats labeled “social-fascists.” The new policy profoundly affected communists around the world throughout 1928 and 1929. Internal discipline intensified, leading to expulsions across several parties, though the CWM saw weaker impact. Overall, the Left Turn weakened the Left in many European countries, although it did have successes in some national contexts, especially outside of Europe.12

The 1928 break with Socialists was not the first one either. Socialist and Communist women had been part of the same socialist movement and shared many radical ideas before the general split that occurred after the outbreak of World War I. For instance, at the Copenhagen Conference of Socialist Women, organized in 1910 by Clara Zetkin, delegates agreed to demand four months of paid maternity leave. Socialist women then also appeared more unified on the issue of abortion, the need to oppose anti-abortion laws, and the practice of illegal abortions. However, many (though not all) Socialist women gradually shifted toward less radical visions of motherhood, state support for mothers and families, care, as well as reproductive rights, as discussed below.

These differences between Socialist and Communist women became particularly acute with the Comintern’s Left Turn. The questions of reproductive labor and reproductive rights were among the core points of division. At an IWS meeting in Moscow on 4 September 1928, held shortly after the Comintern adopted its new policy, women delegates from the Zhenotdel and communist parties of Yugoslavia, Germany, and Britain discussed the recent conference of the Labor and Socialist International (LSI) held on 3-4 August 1928 in Brussels. The CWM’s report highlighted that, differently from Communist women, very few LSI delegates addressed the question of unpaid reproductive labor done by women or the right to abortion. Furthermore, they pointed out that the proposed socialist policies were far less radical than those of the CWM, and issues like reproductive autonomy, equality for “illegitimate” children, and paid maternity leave proved highly divisive. Yet, the CWM report recognized that the resolution of the LSI conference did incorporate (albeit in a vague form) several demands already implemented in the Soviet Union and promoted by the CWM elsewhere. These were: state support for mothers and pregnant women, medical assistance for mothers, protective measures and free milk for school children, daycare facilities, equality in family law, and “full maternity leave” before and after delivery, though without defining its duration or parameters.13

At 1930 IWS meetings, Communist women highlighted what they saw as Socialists’ conservatism. Soviet Zhenotdel delegate Varvara Moirova criticized German socialist women for their contempt toward unwed mothers, while a Comintern Executive representative mocked the Czech socialists’ “Mother of the Future” care model, which promoted a conventional vision of motherhood that assigned women full responsibility for child-rearing and confined them to the role of housewives, financially supported by the state. Communists labeled this vision that emphasized the woman’s “noble goal [of] bring[ing] up her children for her own joy and the benefit of society” as “petty-bourgeois sentimental nonsense, no different from the view of a woman as belonging to the realm of the Kinder, Küche, Kirche (children, kitchen, church) trinity.”14 By contrast, Communist women envisioned a world where women could experience the joy of motherhood while contributing to society outside the home, a vision encapsulated in their aspiration that “outside employment and motherhood will join together in an unbroken circle for a full life.”15

In Germany that same year, Social Democrats did not support the bills proposed by the Communist faction of the Bundestag to protect women workers, peasants, and domestic servants. One bill called for the protection of motherhood, demanded sixteen weeks of paid maternity leave, and prohibited the dismissal of pregnant women and mothers until twelve months after childbirth. The other bill focused on communal authorities and demanded to establish orphanages, daycare facilities, and maternity hospitals; provide child benefits for low-income families; and offer tax benefits and housing allocations, free school meals, and free transport for children from large families. Both bills were rejected.16

Given these differences, Communist women also strategically used the Left turn to emphasize their own radical agenda within the left-wing circles of women and within the male-dominated worlds of the Communist and Socialist Internationals. They consistently promoted a “working mother model” supported by socialized care, which represented an alternative to both the prevailing male breadwinner model and the double exploitation of women’s waged and reproductive labor. Decades later, Marxist feminists such as Lise Vogel and Silvia Federici would theorize social reproduction as linked to housework and childrearing (usually done by women).17 Thus Communist women prefigured a rethinking of social reproduction as inherently linked to the domestic and care labor essential to sustaining the workforce. Moreover, differently from Federici or even pre-World War I ideas on wages for housework, such as those of Charlotte Perkins Gilman, an American first-wave feminist who advocated for providing financial compensation for mothers and caregivers,18 the CWM was unanimous in promoting the complete abolition of housework as a private responsibility, seeing it as a strategic goal of women’s liberation, achievable only through socialist transformation.

Despite the diverging visions and overall Comintern anti-socialist rhetoric, Communist women often continued collaborating with some socialist women’s groups on practical issues such as women’s wages, food prices, or some aspects of maternity protection. Anti-fascism, which has been part of the Communist women’s agenda since 1922, became another unifying factor, especially since the mid-1930s.

‘Fight for the desired joyful motherhood’: The CWM and the Popular Front

The Great Depression had barely begun to ravage global economies when the political landscape took an even darker turn. In September 1930, the Nazi Party became the second largest force in the Reichstag; three years later, Hitler was appointed chancellor and swiftly moved to outlaw the Communist Party and crush the Social Democrats. By July 1933, the Nazi regime had established a monopoly on power and initiated a massive rearmament program. In Italy, Mussolini had already presided over a fascist government for more than a decade, while fascist movements proliferated across Europe and beyond, including in Austria, Spain, and France. Economic hardship fueled their political gains, making anti-fascism the overriding priority for most European Communist Parties by 1934.

For Communist women, fascism represented more than a political threat: it was a direct assault on women’s rights. Italian fascism constructed its policy toward women around a pronatalist ideology that cast childbearing as a patriotic duty to the nation, while simultaneously discouraging women’s participation in the workforce. The Nazi regime pursued a parallel project, glorifying motherhood while restricting women’s access to employment, higher education, and birth control. These policies were inseparable from the Nazis’ eugenic agenda, which subjected women deemed “unfit” on racial, ethnic or health grounds to compulsory sterilization. Abortion, though formally illegal in Germany, was permitted for some, and functioned as an instrument of state control, deployed in the service of a eugenicist ideology.

The intensifying fascist threat compelled the international communist movement to reconsider its strategic orientation. Amid mounting polarization, the French and Czechoslovak sections of the Comintern urged cooperation with social democrats and other leftist forces in the name of an anti-fascist united front. This proposal was formally adopted in July 1935, encouraging broad anti-fascist alliances with leftist, center-left, and centrist parties, while granting national sections greater autonomy in their implementation of the new line.

The CWM anticipated this shift, implementing unity strategies from fall 1934. The new policy enabled cooperation with socialist women but also required collaboration with center-left and centrist women’s movements, including religious ones, risking de-radicalization. Concurrently, the broader international arena was becoming increasingly complex: while Nazis and fascists were promoting pro-natalism alongside eugenicist policies, many non-fascist governments, such as those of the US and Scandinavian countries, also practiced “voluntary” sterilization based on race, ethnicity, or class. Communist women denounced such policies, effectively practicing — if not explicitly naming — intersectionality in their activism, pointing to a variety of factors such as race, ethnicity, class, or health that added up to women’s oppression under capitalism.19 Consequently, by the summer of 1935 the members of the IWS felt that these global developments put Communist women in a highly precarious position, as their pro-abortion stance risked being misinterpreted as neo-Malthusianism or conflated with far-right eugenicist policies. On the other hand, maintaining their radical vision of working motherhood threatened to alienate their prospective moderate anti-fascist allies.

Moreover, the IWS members were also aware of potential changes to abortion legislation in the Soviet Union. A year later the Soviet government indeed banned abortions. The June 1936 decree, formally titled the “Resolution of the Central Executive Committee and the Council of People’s Commissars of the USSR on the Prohibition of Abortions, Increasing Financial Assistance to Mothers, Establishing State Assistance to Large Families, Expanding the Network of Maternity Hospitals, Nurseries and Kindergartens, Increasing Criminal Penalties for Failure to Pay Alimony and on Certain Changes in the Legislation on Divorce,” simultaneously ended the right to free, medicalized abortion that Soviet women had enjoyed since 1920, while allocating additional funds to support working motherhood and socialized care.20 However, arguably, it was complex international shifts, and not only Soviet reversal of abortion policy, that called for readjustments of the CWM’s policies on reproductive rights, motherhood, and care.

That said, while abandoning the most radical element of its initial platform — the pro-abortion stance — the CWM remained faithful to its policies regarding state-supported motherhood and reproductive labor. In the summer of 1935, a series of meetings took place at the IWS to discuss the stakes of the Popular Front and the line to adopt on the contentious issues of reproductive rights, working motherhood, and care. As a result of these discussions, the movement resolved to continue advocating for the transformation of housework into a social industry, the integration of motherhood with employment outside the home; a sixteen-week paid maternity leave; free maternal medical care; public daycare facilities; and family allowances. While explicit demands for free and medicalized abortion became rare after 1935, giving way to the more neutral slogan “For desired and joyful motherhood” and access to contraception, Communist women in Europe and beyond nevertheless continued to actively protest anti-abortion laws and the devastating consequences of illegal abortions.21 This practice likens the CWM’s advocacy for state-supported motherhood to an early form of reproductive justice activism, occurring decades before the framework was formally coined by women of color activists and scholars in the United States during the mid-1990s.22

Conclusion

The interwar Communist Women’s Movement was not a passive recipient of Comintern or Soviet directives but an active, theoretically innovative vanguard that positioned women’s emancipation at the center of socialist transformation. By linking unwaged domestic labor to social reproduction, the movement pioneered a profound rethinking of care work as a structural economic and political question.

The CWM officially dissolved in November 1935, only months after the adoption of the Popular Front policy. Yet the same activists continued coordinating international efforts until the summer of 1937, and Women’s Departments within Communist Parties kept advocating for a revolutionary reorganization of reproductive labor. Over time, the Popular Front progressively absorbed the movement’s international networks into organizations such as the Women’s World Committee against War and Fascism and the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom, where Communist women’s experience and connections served new purposes. In this shift, proletarian internationalism recast itself as antifascist solidarity, even as the underlying networks endured under altered forms.

During World War II, Communist women fought actively against Nazis and fascists on the frontlines and within diverse resistance movements. After the war, they revived their networks and, in 1945, established the Women’s International Democratic Federation (WIDF) in Paris. As an indirect successor to the CWM, the WIDF continued many policies first articulated in the 1920s such as anticolonialism, anti-imperialism, and the struggle for state-supported motherhood and socialized care, linking them to the broader fight for women’s status worldwide. Socialist governments in Eastern and Central Europe subsequently adopted many of the CWM’s ideas on reproductive labor at the national level.

Throughout these transformations, from the Left Turn to the Popular Front, from wartime resistance to postwar institutionalization, Communist women remained faithful to their foundational vision of socialization of housework and care. In doing so, they formulated core principles of intersectionality and reproductive justice that anticipated contemporary feminist frameworks. Their legacy of radical care activism challenges and complicates the standard narrative of modern women’s rights movements and the conventional “waves of feminism.” That historical recovery matters urgently today. The very policies the CWM formulated and fought for a century ago now face renewed attacks, even as societies worldwide continue grappling with how to organize care economies effectively and fairly.

Dr. Daria Dyakonova is a historian of transnational left-wing youth and women’s movements, gender, and International Relations. Her research currently focuses on the international Communist Women’s Movement during the interwar period, with particular attention to transnational activism.

  • 1

    “Guidelines for the Communist Women’s Movement” (hereinafter “Guidelines”), 1921, in Mike Taber and Daria Dyakonova, eds., The Communist Women’s Movement, 1920–1922: Proceedings, Resolutions, and Reports (Leiden: Brill, 2022), 162. The quote from this article’s title from “Guidelines,” 163.

  • 2

    The International Women’s Secretariat technically existed between the summer of 1920 and the summer of 1926. It was based in Moscow between November 1920 and December 1921 and in Berlin between January 1922 and July 1924. It moved back to Moscow in August 1924. In April 1926 it was transformed into the Women’s Department of the Comintern’s Executive Committee (ECCI), but the name IWS continued to be used until the dissolution of the ECCI Women’s Department in 1935. In this article I use the term International Women’s Secretariat (IWS) for the entire interwar period for the sake of consistency.

  • 3

    Organizers within the Communist Women’s Movement did not use the term “social reproduction” to define women’s work or gendered material inequality. Yet, their understanding of the relationship between women’s care labor and the wider economy was not only intersectional but also integrative, taking political form in the demand for the socialization of care work.

  • 4

    “Guidelines,” 162.

  • 5

    The 1920 Conference had over 50 delegates from 19 countries. See Taber and Dyakonova, eds., The Communist Women’s Movement, 151.

  • 6

    “Guidelines,” 162.

  • 7

    V.I. Lenin, “The Tasks of the Working Women’s Movement in the Soviet Republic. Speech delivered at the Fourth Moscow City Conference of Non-Party Working Women, 23 September 1919.” In Collected Works, vol. 30 (Moscow: Progress Publishers, 1965), 40–6. https://www.marxists.org/archive/lenin/works/1919/sep/23a.htm.

  • 8

    Alexandra Kollontai, “Communism and the Family.” In Alix Holt, ed., Alexandra Kollontai: Selected Writings (London: Allison & Busby, 1977).

  • 9

    “Guidelines,” 163.

  • 10

    Lily Braun developed similar ideas in Die Frauenfrage (The Woman Question, 1901). Helene Stöcker led the Deutscher Bund für Mutterschutz und Sexualreform(German League for the Protection of Motherhood and Sexual Reform) and advocated for reforms that would require the state to support single mothers. See Olga Bronnikova and Matthieu Renault, Kollontai. Défaire la famille, refaire l’amour(Paris: La Fabrique éditions, 2024), 84–85.

  • 11

    “Minutes of the meeting of the IWS,” 27 August 1935, ll. 93-95, 101. Minutes and materials of the meetings of the IWS, 21.08.1935-11.09.1935, fond (fund, hereinafter f.). 507, opys (inventory, hereinafter op.) 2, delo (file, hereinafter d.) 230. Russian State Archive of Social and Political History (hereinafter RGASPI), Moscow, Russia.

  • 12

    See, for example, Josephine Fowler, “From East to West and West to East: Ties of Solidarity in the Pan-Pacific Revolutionary Trade Union Movement, 1923–1934,” International Labor and Working-Class History 66 (2004): 99–117.

  • 13

    “Minutes of the meeting of the IWS/WD,” 4 September 1928, ll. 208-209. Minutes of the meetings of the IWS/WD January to September 1928, f. 507, op. 2, d. 119. RGASPI.

  • 14

    “Minutes of the meeting of the IWS/WD,” 20 May 1930, ll. 185-6. Minutes of the meetings of the IWS/WD January to May 1930, f. 507, op. 2, d. 157. RGASPI.

  • 15

    “Guidelines”, 153.

  • 16

    “Minutes of the meeting of the IWS/WD,” 22 May 1930, ll. 1-51. Minutes of the meetings of the IWS/WD for May and June 1930, f. 507, op. 2, d. 158. RGASPI.

  • 17

    See Lise Vogel, Marxism and the Oppression of Women: Toward a Unitary Theory, revised ed. (Leiden: Brill, 2013); Silvia Federici, Caliban and the Witch: Women, the Body and Primitive Accumulation (Brooklyn, NY: Autonomedia, 2004).

  • 18

    Charlotte Perkins Gilman, Women and Economics: A Study of the Economic Relation Between Men and Women as a Factor in Social Evolution (Boston: Small, Maynard & Co., 1898).

  • 19

    “Minutes of the meeting of the IWS/WD,” 1 January 1935, l. 199. Minutes of the meetings of the IWS/WD for January to June 1935, f. 507, op. 2, d. 229. RGASPI.

  • 20

    In the USSR, abortion was from its introduction regarded as a provisional measure. While not all members of the Zhenotdel enthusiastically supported it, they concurred that it remained necessary so long as society could not guarantee the necessary material conditions for all mothers and children. Kollontai herself was not, strictly speaking, “pro-abortion” in the sense of promoting it as a positive good; rather, she viewed it as a necessity imposed by the material circumstances.

  • 21

    “Minutes of the meeting of the IWS/WD,” 23 July 1935, l. 221. Minutes of the meetings of the IWS/WD for January to June 1935, f. 507, op. 2, d. 229; and “Minutes of the meeting of the IWS/WD,” 25 August 1935, l. 16 and 27 August 1935, l. 125. Minutes of the meetings of the IWS/WD for August to September 1935, f. 507, op. 2, d. 230. RGASPI.

  • 22

    See, for example, Loretta Ross and Rickie Solinger, Reproductive Justice: An Introduction (Oakland: University of California Press, 2017).



























Wednesday, April 08, 2026

 

The backlash against the backlash: Socialist feminism & left politics in a time of reaction

feminism versus far right Rupture

First published at Rupture.

After every crisis of capitalism comes protest and social upheaval — of a progressive or reactionary character. The 2008 crash was followed by a decade of progressive mass movements: Occupy, Black Lives Matter, feminist movements for abortion rights and against gender-based violence, and revolutions and near-revolutions like the Arab Spring. In Ireland, we saw mass movements against water charges, for marriage equality and abortion rights and progressive legislation on gender recognition. Just like in the ‘60s and early ‘70s, when the civil rights movement was followed by second-wave feminism, the gay rights movement, the movement against the Vietnam War and May ‘68, the mass movements of the 2010s sparked other mass movements.

Unfortunately, both waves of progressive mass protest were also followed by, first, a global economic crisis and then a conservative backlash. In the 1970s and ‘80s, this meant the oil crisis, Reagan, Thatcher and neoliberalism. In the 2020s, the Covid crisis accelerated a growing far-right backlash and ushered in a new phase of reaction across the world. If you were looking to pinpoint a date when the anti-feminist backlash took off, it would probably be Trump’s first election as US President in November 2016. A rapist running on an anti-choice platform, Trump promised to overturn Roe v. Wade. This ultimately happened in June 2022, shortly after the Depp vs. Heard trial sounded the death knell for #MeToo. Trump’s second Presidency has put the backlash into turbo drive. The most powerful man on earth is again a known rapist. DEI programmes have been decimated, reproductive rights are under attack and traditional gender roles are being forcibly reaffirmed.

The seeds of the backlash were already there pre-Covid, but lockdown isolated people from real life, and the algorithm enticed them into noxious online echo chambers. This created the perfect environment for a paranoid conspiracy theory pipeline, leading from Covid denialism and anti-vax propaganda to racism, sexism, homophobia and transphobia. We all have friends, family members or co-workers who have lost their minds since Covid - their brains swamped by a never-ending flood of shit.

To paraphrase Marx and Engels, no matter how much progress we make under capitalism, short of a revolution, we cannot finally rid ourselves of the “muck of ages” — it will re-emerge in various forms until the whole rotten system is overthrown. This is painfully apparent in two of the main fronts in the current anti-feminist backlash — reproductive rights and the family — and gender-based violence.

Reproductive rights & the family

Historically, fascists were notorious for burning books. Now they want to burn contraceptives as well. It was reported in July1 that the Trump administration had decided to incinerate nearly $10 million worth of contraceptives earmarked for USAID programmes in Africa. A State Department official referred to them as “certain abortifacient birth control commodities from terminated Biden-era USAID contracts” because the stocks included IUDs and emergency contraceptives.2 This is connected to the dismantling of USAID — but the reason the Trump administration wanted to burn the contraceptives rather than sell them or give them away is clearly ideological. Blocked by laws in Belgium (where the contraceptives are stored) that prohibit incinerating reusable medical devices, the plan now seems to be to allow them to expire. Planned Parenthood estimates this will lead to 174,000 unintended pregnancies and 56,000 unsafe abortions.

This literal destruction of reproductive rights is going hand in hand with the rise of a reactionary pro-natalism — championed most notoriously by Elon Musk, the slayer of USAID, who has fathered fourteen children with at least four different women. Outside of Musk’s tech bro weirdness, pro-natalism is more usually associated with the valorisation of marriage, the traditional nuclear family and rigid gender roles. It is intrinsically bound up with racism; its raison d’etre is to avoid immigration - the only other way to grow the labour supply.

The “tradwife” phenomenon is part of this. Sophie Lewis3 analyses it as an attempt to escape the “double shift” of paid and unpaid work. Women’s participation in the workforce has meant they end up doing two jobs instead of one, while their wages are swallowed up by housing and childcare costs. People cannot afford to have children until their 30s or 40s and so end up having fewer children or none at all. Parents, especially women, are exhausted by this double shift.

The far right’s response to this crisis of biological and social reproduction under capitalism is to blame it on feminism — just like they blame the housing and cost of living crisis on migrants. They say that a man’s wage used to be able to support the whole family. But now, because of feminism, everyone has to work. So it’s feminism that is destroying families, driving down birth rates and driving up the cost of housing because mortgages are now based on two incomes rather than one.

This narrative exploits a sense among some men that they are being brought down to the level of women or even below — for instance, through the decline of male manual labour and feminisation of professional jobs. Of course, this ignores the fact that women are still significantly poorer than men. The hourly gender pay gap is around ten per cent but the lifetime earnings gap is much wider; women take more time out of the workforce for childcare and are more likely to work part-time. Women also do twice as much housework as men, even when both are working full-time.

Men’s loss of privilege is in no way absolute; it’s just less than it used to be. This sense by men of a loss of privilege relative to women and a desire to reassert that privilege is fuelling the rise of the far right — just like a loss, or perceived loss, of relative superiority among white people is fuelling racism. Right-wing demagogues fan the flames of this fratricidal resentment, identifying it as the perfect way to prevent working class solidarity against the billionaires they represent.

Richard Seymour writes that the “loss of distinction” is experienced by the supporters of the far right as a massive impoverishment, “tantamount to the downfall of civilization”.4 Women or black and brown people doing less badly than white men than they used to might not sound like a good enough reason to burn things down. So conspiracy theories like the “Great Replacement” are required to link it all into one great big imaginary disaster. That’s why the language of the far right is so ludicrously apocalyptic.

The politics of gender-based violence

Lurking barely below the surface of the backlash is the threat of violence. The far right cynically exploits increased concern about gender-based violence to justify pogroms against “military-aged” foreign men. Yet those involved are often perpetrators of violence against women themselves. Half of those arrested recently for racist rioting in the North of Ireland had previously been reported to the police for gender-based violence.5

Reported rates of gender-based violence are on the rise, too. This is partly due to greater awareness post-#MeToo, but the apparent proliferation of sexist attitudes since the 2010s suggests it’s also a real increase. Some studies have found worsening sexist attitudes among young men. For others, it's not so much that young men have become more sexist but that young women have become more progressive.

Research by Women’s Aid has found that 67% of young men hold, or don’t disagree with, traditionalist sexist attitudes about masculinity, compared to 40% of men overall.6 This includes beliefs like: “men who don’t dominate in relationships aren’t real men”; “Men should use violence to get respect if necessary”; “A man’s worth is measured by power and control over others” and “Real men shouldn’t have to care about women’s opinions or feelings”. Feminists often point to the growth of the manosphere as increasing sexist attitudes among young men. A study by Dublin City University7 found that within hours of setting up a social media account more than three-quarters of content recommended to 16-18 year old males on TikTok and YouTube was masculinist, anti-feminist or otherwise extremist. Big tech companies know that people watch extreme content for longer, which means they see more ads and buy more stuff. So the proliferation of the manosphere is directly driven by the attention economy big tech profits from.

Beyond the instinct to rubberneck, something else in the manosphere is appealing to young men. Women’s Aid describes influencers like Andrew Tate as “discuss[ing] themes around traditional masculinity, independence, and resilience”. Part of the reason this resonates is that the economics of late capitalism have robbed young men of autonomy and control over their own lives that would have been taken for granted in previous generations — for instance, being able to move out of their parents’ house. The average age for moving out of home is now 28.8

Men have also lost economic control over women. Increased female participation in the workforce has made women less financially dependent on men, which makes it harder for some men to form or maintain relationships. On top of this, women have more sexual freedom due to changes in attitudes towards sexuality. A Gallup poll last year found that 29% of Gen Z women in the US identified as LGBTQ+ compared to 11% of Gen Z men.9 In this context, manosphere content around working out, physical and emotional strength and dominating over women may give men back a sense of control.

As with reproductive issues, the far right speaks to real issues and anxieties but provides reactionary, sexist solutions: restoring traditional gender roles, returning women to the home, using male violence supposedly to protect us, denying us economic and biological freedom. Instead of addressing real economic causes and providing affordable housing or public childcare, the far right’s “solution” is to restore distinction and division among the working class and leave the class system intact. Ours is to abolish both distinction and the class system by fighting oppression and exploitation at the same time. That is the only way to unite the working class and end the rule of capital.

The backlash to the backlash

After several years when the far right seemed to be growing almost unopposed, there is now a growing backlash to the backlash. In the last year, we have seen renewed movements on gender-based violence, including protests in support of Nikita Hand, marches of thousands on International Women’s Day and smaller marches against the manosphere to the headquarters of social media companies. Women are also to the forefront in countering racism and in the Palestine solidarity movement, including through groups like Mothers against Genocide. An exit poll10 from the General Election last November showed twice as many women as men voted for People Before Profit, with 7% of women voting for the Social Democrats compared to 4% of men.

We can also see signs of a backlash to the backlash in recent positive election results for the left in Ireland and internationally. Catherine Connolly won the Presidential election by the largest ever margin, running on a progressive left platform that opposed imperialism and war, championed the “meitheal”11 and spoke out against the rise in anti-immigration sentiment as “misplaced” “anger … channelled to the wrong people.”12

Die Linke performed unexpectedly well in the German elections in February, running on an economically left, anti-far right platform13 and outpolling Sahra Wagenknecht’s economically left but socially conservative BSW. Hundreds of thousands of people in Britain are signing up to join Your Party and the leftward-moving Greens. Zohran Mamdani has just won the New York mayoral election on a cost-of-living-focused left platform, which included universal free childcare as a core demand and defended trans people’s right to healthcare.14 Rather than deciding “woke is dead” and throwing trans and racialised people under the bus, like some on the left have been tempted into doing, Mamdani’s success showed that it is possible to “bake in” socially progressive politics alongside a “bread and butter” left economic programme. Significantly, in addition to increasing turnout, he flipped 15% of Trump voters into supporting him.15

A notable feature of the backlash years has been a growing political gender divide internationally, from Ireland16 to the US, Europe and South Korea. This can be seen as a problem for the left because we obviously need both men and women to succeed — especially in relation to the global ecological crisis. It’s also a massive opportunity: to recruit more women and redress the historic gender imbalance across most left activist organisations.

There are also reasons to be hopeful that the gender divide is more a case of young women politicised by a decade of feminist movements moving left, than it is of young men moving right; that young men have mostly been more apathetic than radicalised.17 This is important because it means organisation and mobilisation can move young men leftward, like it has young women.

Mamdani’s election is interesting here, bucking the trend by attracting roughly equal support from women and men18 while also winning 81% of LGBTQ+ voters.19 What unites all of these recent left electoral successes is a massive youth vote. Die Linke was the most popular party for 18-24 year olds,20 62% of young voters under 30 chose Mamdani,21 and two-thirds chose Connolly.22 After several years of almost uninterrupted gloom and a seemingly inexorable drift to the far right, there is reason to be hopeful again, if we keep on fighting.