Consider the role of women in American politics. Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton is running for the presidency. My very own congresswoman, Nancy Pelosi, runs the U.S. House of Representatives. My state, California, is represented by two women, Senators Diane Feinstein and Barbara Boxer. Another woman, Condoleezza Rice, is secretary of state. Here in San Francisco where I live, we have female fire and police chiefs and a female district attorney.

In other words, the idea of women being active, involved, and committed to political life—as candidates and appointees—isn't novel or even newsworthy. It's a fact. But it's a fact that keeps getting ignored. Or, as in the case of Hillary Rodham Clinton's presidential aspirations, a fact that's used as a distraction: "Will Americans vote for a female president?" the pundits demand.

That's not the least of it, of course. And as the campaign wears on we'll hear more and more of this nonsense. But Clinton is not the first to suffer from sexist distraction.

One of the more striking debates about Howard Dean's 2004 presidential bid was the way his wife's career—and her status as the family's main breadwinner—was dismissed by the political press corps as less important than what anyone with even a small amount of political sense would have seen as a quixotic attempt to claim the White House. Dean, the governor of a small New England state with almost no national profile, politically or otherwise, ran an antiwar campaign that was vibrant but poorly organized and not as well funded as those of his opponents. Meanwhile Dr. Judy Steinberg Dean had taken over the family medical practice she and her husband ran together in Burlington, Vermont. Yet she was criticized for not leaving her job and her two children—one in college and the other preparing to attend—to join her spouse on the campaign trail. The Dean marriage was in trouble, said the pundits—male and female—because Judy Dean didn't stand by her husband in Iowa.

The Deans aren't poor, of course. But if I had Judy Dean's bills to pay—try uttering the phrase "two kids in college" without gasping for air—I'd spend my time making sure my family had a way to make ends meet just in case this White House thing the husband had his heart set on didn't work out. And a medical practice without any doctors on staff wasn't going to cover those bases very well.

Why was Judy Dean's economic common sense so easily dismissed?

It's pretty obvious if you're a woman looking at how women's roles in politics are discussed and who leads that discussion. On my television, Speaker Pelosi's victory celebration in November was narrated by former sports anchor Keith Olbermann and Chris Matthews, a former White House speechwriter and aide to House Speaker Tip O'Neil. On Sundays, I can glimpse Cokie Roberts—daughter of two much-loved Washington figures—between former presidential counselors George Will and George Stephanopoulos. Or I can watch Tim Russert with occasional guest, Andrea Mitchell—wife of former Federal Reserve Chairman Alan Greenspan—grill various politicos.

Now, the point here isn't to belittle the women who have managed to become part of the media establishment. It is, instead, to underscore the closed nature of that establishment. It's a narrowing that started when editors at the big papers started hiring young men like themselves—well-off, Ivy-educated—to cover politics and public affairs.

The situation has only worsened as the number of news outlets—particularly newspapers—have contracted. Competition for reporting jobs became more intense, and fewer jobs meant fewer opportunities for anyone wanting to cover politics, diplomacy, or public policy. Regardless of gender, those who got seats at the table are and were less likely to welcome any competition. Editors hired reporters and writers who they felt had the right qualifications and, as with almost every other industry, those qualifications—real or imagined—reflected editors' own experience. Like hired like.

The obvious—and easy—response to the lack of women writers at traditional outlets has been to count bylines and mount publicity campaigns. Political activist Susan Estrich started this idea when she took a look at the Los Angeles Times roster and found that it lacking women's voices.

Byline counting is a little bit of quota mischief that's created some pressure on editors to mend their ways. But counting looks back to an industry that's in the throes of tremendous change, not ahead to capitalizing on the changes that are coming in the media business. Like many efforts at reform, byline counting assumes that the large media outlets will remain dominant in American culture and commentary, using the forms and formats they already employ today. That's simply not the case.

Perhaps more importantly, the focus on what has happened shifts attention away from what could—and should—be done to expand and deepen the reporting, writing, and commentary that women can and should do.

I think, in no small part because I'm doing it, that there's enormous opportunity for anyone willing to turn away from established media outlets to live and work on the Web. No, it's not paper. Yes, there's a chance your friends won't read it and might not have heard of it. And no, it's not—for now—as influential as the established outlets. But those older, stately doors are closed—for financial and other reasons—right now to almost everyone who wants to apply. The frustration that's created—on both sides—is why I think the writing, newsgathering, and commentary careers of the future are being shaped, developed, and launched online right now.

We all know readers want something different—poll after poll shows reader dissatisfaction. We also know that putting women in charge of the decisions about how society, culture, and politics are covered changes the tenor and tone of the conversation. The best example I can think of is the once-stultifying Washington Week, now moderated by Gwen Ifill. The program now has more women and minority journalists appearing more regularly than any of the weekly political chat shows I've named above. That's not a coincidence.

This picture is complicated, however, by the speed at which things are changing in the new medium being fostered on the Internet. Although the phenomenon of online commentary was popular in 2004 and 2006, with this election cycle, there's an increasing distrust of the blogging community among general-interest readers. They are finding the stark partisanship, name-calling, bad writing, and lousy reporting often accepted on blog sites well below their standards. This isn't a surprise. The first people to grasp and deploy any new technology are often those who have the most to gain—the disenfranchised, the outraged, the rabble-rousers. And that certainly describes the first wave of bloggers. But those sorts of efforts are almost always not sustainable. An audience may be outraged temporarily and moved to action but—as any organizer knows—that sense of high-octane purpose is hard, if not impossible, to maintain for more than a short period of time.

My Web site, Spot-on, has eschewed the "b-word" since we began. We call what we do "commentary." We call ourselves writers. We place the emphasis on what we say and how we say it, not on the software and other tools we use to communicate. For me, blogging was one step—the first one—in demonstrating the power of Internet-based commentary and reporting; it offered proof that not everything said in and by newspapers or other large, established outlets was the final, or even complete, word. But it also demonstrated a need for professionally produced editorials. The first wave of bloggers offered an initial but very rough demonstration of how the online world can offer more—and more varied—opportunities for all sorts of new voices. But the ways in which those voices speak out aren't for everyone—as evidenced by the recent contretemps within Senator John Edwards's 2008 presidential campaign. Edwards's campaign hired two self-described feminists to help run its online efforts. The two women quickly came under fire from the Catholic League for comments—smart-aleck cracks, really—about the church and its position on abortion and birth control that the two women had made on their individual blogs.

Now, my approach—using the opportunities created by the Web to create a platform for new and different voices—is unusual. But I think it's the next step in the medium's evolution. Because it's clear we're not turning back. And in this move forward, as a look at how far we've come and how quickly we've gotten here demonstrates, there is ample opportunity for women to make their voices heard.

In the 2004 campaign, traditional news reporters and editors got a rude awakening as they discovered that independent sites, called "Web logs" or "blogs" (after the computer software that was used to create and publish them) had loyal, often passionate readers. For a variety of reasons, these readers found the political coverage in established TV and newspaper outlets to be insufficient, and they turned to the online world. They found that bloggers often echoed their thoughts, added insight to their daily news diet, and provided entertainment and enlightenment—in short, proved to be everything their local newspaper was not.

Watching the shocked response of salaried reporters and editors to this new and vibrant competition was fairly amusing, in a sardonic way. First, bloggers were dismissed as unreliable; they couldn't possibly know what the reporters knew (they often did—the information stream on the Internet is as deep as the one in many newsrooms). Then the salaried folks acknowledged—grudgingly—that the most popular blogs might be onto something-—nothing serious, of course, but the occasional insight that might round out a story. So bloggers got asked to give quotes or write op-ed pieces to add "color" or nuance to traditionally produced stories. Some of those bloggers deemed "reliable"—which usually meant popular, as measured by the traffic to their Web sites—were invited to appear on the television shows. That, of course, reinforced their popularity and, for the most part, sealed the already popular sites in the news-consuming public's mind. Now, of course, large media outlets are flatly imitating blogger's behavior as the much-hyped launch earlier this year of ThePolitico.com, a politics-only site with the backing of Albritton Communications, demonstrates.

Way back in 2004 when political blogs were first noticed, the sites that received the most attention were those started by folks who knew and understood the workings of computer technology. Instapundit Glenn Reynolds, Markos Moulitsas, founder of TheDailyKos, Joshua Micah Marshall's TalkingPointMemo, and Kevin Drum, whose Political Animal site was eventually taken over by the Washington Monthly, were among the first voices heard on the Web. In short order, the boys of the salaried journalism press corps reached out and—lo and behold—discovered guys just like them. They were delighted: Nothing really had to change. Bloggers were happy because they got attention for what had been, for many, a hobby. Big Media was satisfied—see, it had embraced the online world and found it not all that different. And the perception that blogging was a boys' sport—just like traditional political commentary—remained unchallenged.

Unless, of course, you were a woman writing on the Web. We seethed.

The high point of this like-meets-like-and-likes-it story was probably the broadcast interview that consummate New York insider Charlie Rose (mp3) conducted with Reynolds, well-known editor (turned blogger) Andrew Sullivan, and—just to round things out—Ana Marie Cox, who had been hired to run the Washington, D.C.-based gossip blog, Wonkette.

Notice the disparity in this line-up. Cox is a talented writer, but at Wonkette she was an employee, not the founder of the site (that distinction went to Gawker Media founder Nick Denton). And her main stock-in-trade was jokes and asides about anal or girl-on-girl sex.

I'd love to say I'm making this up. I'm not.

It wasn't entirely hopeless. The male stranglehold on political conversations would, from time to time, make some of the self-conscious liberal men writing online wonder about the state of their distaff counterparts. WashingtonMonntly.com's Kevin Drum was perhaps the last blogger to openly contemplate what he saw as the absence of women in online political forums. His musings triggered an online discussion and exchange that singed more than a few eyebrows.[1]

Drum made the mistake of wondering not just "where" the women bloggers were but also of generalizing about women's attitudes based on his personal experience. The women he knew didn't like the Internet's loud give-and-take, he said. That may be why they stay away, he theorized.

Drum is not wondering where women are online any more. It isn't that there were no women writing about politics online. It's that Drum wasn't reading the women who were writing. Making matters even worse was the misunderstanding of the medium that the Monthly—known for its long-standing hostility toward female writing talent—demonstrated as it rushed to do damage control. It called on Katha Pollitt and the site's managing editor, Amy Sullivan, to talk about their attitudes, as women, toward blogging and online political writing.

The whole follow-up reeked of the kind of patronizing that many of us on the Web find so annoying when established media figures come to call. Instead of looking online, where a vibrant and thorough discussion of this issue had already taken place, the Monthly behaved as any traditional news outlet would. Cynics—that is to say those of us with newsroom experience—could almost hear the editor thinking, as so many of our former bosses once thought: "Quick, let's get a famous feminist in here pronto to show that we mean no harm."

This is the typical response to the byline count, and it further underscores my and others' frustration with that process and the attitude it demonstrates. It's thinking that assumes there are limited outlets for discussion and that the traditional and established ways of doing things—bringing in the "expert" writer, for instance, or pressuring the editors—remains the best strategy in the new online environment.

I've noticed something similar at ThePolitico.com. It has recruited a group of big name political journalists—men from Time magazine, the Washington Post, and other outlets—to work in an online environment. By the standards of Washington political journalism, this whole undertaking is considered daring. But what struck me about the site's masthead on the day it opened for business was something sadly familiar: its most prominent female reporter was its gossip columnist. Unlike on Wonkette, the sex jokes will be kept to a minimum but, unfortunately, the stereotyping seems likely to continue.

But—and this is what's really important—ThePolitico.com and TheWashingtonMonthly.com aren't the only games online. And that's why women who really care about politics and public discourse should be starting and supporting sites and other efforts that serve our needs. Because trust me—and you're not reading this on a piece of paper you got in the mail are you?—online is where the true force of true change resides.

Women in particular know their media outlets aren't serving their needs. Take a long look at the women who trounced Drum (he cheerfully lists them). Or at Arianna Huffington's HuffingtonPost, which started after she grasped the power that bloggers had tried to corral and did them one better. The HuffPo's size pretty much dwarfs every blog or Web site mentioned in this piece. Look at businesses like BlogHer, an advertising network and conference set up to serve women writing online. Global Voices, a consortium of bloggers around the world dedicated to reporting and writing about human rights and other causes in their native lands was cofounded by a woman, former CNN correspondent Rebecca MacKinnon. These days a woman with something to say doesn't need to wait for the newsroom chain of command to recognize her worth. She doesn't have to worry about looking too old on television. She doesn't have to wait for some editor to "get it." She can start a Web site.

Unfortunately, what many people still see online is either the rough work of bloggers or the highly polished work of traditional media outlets culling ad dollars from their existing sponsors. We're seeing a crop of efforts that try to serve women with fashion and celebrity gossip, family sites that make baby-talk to "mommies," and the "Sex in the City"-inspired bows to "girl-power." PopSugar and Glam.com are the most recent entries. These sites are only imitating the restricted world they see on TV and in paper-based media. The result is nothing more than cynical attempts to ghettoize women's voices online the way they're ghettoized offline, all with an eye to the ad dollars. Some will work because they do, in fact, rack up ad revenue. But, ultimately, I think, many will fail. Bored, dissatisfied readers will move on—with the click of a mouse.

It has long been a trope of the feminist movement that commercialization necessarily exploits women. So feminists, like many advocacy journalists, have turned to the nonprofit world and to academe for refuge from harsh commercial reality. Ms Magazine, for example, is run by a foundation, and there is no shortage of nonprofit groups aimed at encouraging women's work in university-based media. There have been plenty of valid reasons for this: In a world where media production costs are often daunting—even for profit-making enterprises—feminist undertakings struggle for support and large audiences. It's easier to sell 100 lipsticks than it is to move 100 hardcover books—or it was until Amazon.com came along.

But, as Amazon demonstrates, the Internet is a great equalizer. Someone living in a rural county or town can, with a few clicks of a mouse, access a bookstore as rich and varied as any you might find in a big city. And big city bookstores are, of course, fighting for survival. Amazon's global reach flattens the marketplace for what it's selling. In this world, it's brains—who's faster, who's better, who's cheaper—not brawn that works best. The Internet is ruthless, of course, but it's also a place—particularly now that its technology is very easy to use—where strong voices can be found without a great deal of effort. In addition, working online is inexpensive. The costs—even for a relatively complicated undertaking like mine, Spot-on.com, are small.

With all this activity, we're gong to see lots of new voices. They'll come from new, yet-to-be started sites, some commercial, some not. Some will be one-trick ponies that make big splashes but don't endure. Others will grow quietly and find long-term readers and fans. Even more heartening, much of what's happening on the Internet right now is clumsy efforts to test the medium. Think back to the early black-and-white sitcoms made when television was a fresh new medium. Compare them to what's on your screen today. That's how far we have to go.

The tremendous interest in blogging—on the part of readers and writers—was the first wave. For some, it was a great experiment. For others, it's become an avocation. For some like me, a job. There's more out there to be discovered beyond the world of blogging, because what we have now—no matter how technically sophisticated it may seem, no matter how editorially appealing, no matter how popular—is temporary.

Anyone worried, concerned, or interested in what's happening online would do well to look ahead to what can be done, rather than back to what hasn't been or is not being done in the news outlets we've come to rely on. When I look at the Internet I see a vast array of competitive voices, some crazy, some sane, some left, some right, some foolish, some devilishly shrewd. In that, I see enormous possibility for women to shape, change, and even control political commentary in new and vital ways.

Endnotes

1. You can easily read the exchanges that took place on WashingtonMonthly.com and other sites involved in the Spring 2005 discussion of women and online political writing. Here is Kevin Drum's initial post: http://www.washingtonmonthly.com/archives/
individual/2005_02/005691.php. Here is a sampling—with links back to the women bloggers who wrote to and about his remarks—of comments on what he said. It's a very good list of sites run by and for politically-minded women: http://www.washingtonmonthly.com/archives/
individual/2005_02/005705.php.

Here is the post I wrote: http://www.spoton.com/
archives/000696.html. And here is a second post that I wrote summing up the state of affairs online at the time, tracing how Drum and others came to their particular point of view. Much of it still holds true: http://www.spot-on.com/
archives/000712.html.

Katha Pollitt's initial post for WashingtonMonthly.com is here: http://www.washingtonmonthly.com/archives/
individual/2005_03/005908.php. [Return to text]