（English version below）

我理解 Kyungjin Oh 的說法可能來自韓國女性運動面對反女性主義 backlash 的處境。作為一位長期參與韓國女性運動的行動者，她所面對的，可能是保守政治以及女性議題長期被邊緣化的現實。所以，我也明白為甚麼她會認為女性主義運動不應永遠以溫柔、請求、討好的方式去爭取基本尊重。女性不需要為了讓男性舒服，才有資格說出自己的處境與憤怒。女性主義當然可以有力量，可以有批判，也可以拒絕被忽視。

但正因如此，我們更需要分辨：一種運動在受壓下變得強硬，是否就可以自動把自己的立場稱為「普世價值」？我對這段說法有很大保留，尤其是「請你接受，這是普世價值」這一句。誰有權定義甚麼是「普世價值」？誰又有權要求別人接受？Kyungjin Oh 似乎假設了她心目中的女性主義就是普世價值，其他人只要不接受，就是落後、無知、或需要被教育。這種姿態本身已經很值得警惕。

更準確地說，她所講的可能不是甚麼絕對的「普世價值」，而是西方 progressive liberalism discourse 之中的一種女性主義表述。這種表述當然有其歷史意義，也推動過很多重要的平權改革；但它不應被包裝成唯一正確、唯一文明、唯一普世的答案。不同文化、宗教、階級、種族、家庭結構和生命經驗中的女性，對自由、平等、身體、關係、照顧、母職、婚姻、工作和尊嚴，都可能有不同理解。

如果女性主義變成「我們知道得比你多」、「我們比較進步」、「你最後只能接受」，這是否仍然是一種開放的思想？還是它其實複製了父權體制中最值得警惕的東西：權力壓制、道德優越感，以及不容異議的姿態？

我也很懷疑那種以女性主義之名去評定別人「夠不夠女性主義」的做法。如果有些人真的認為自己掌握了一套女性主義標準，並且可以憑這些知識去判斷哪些人「不夠」女性主義，即使他們未必敢公開說要譴責或懲罰對方，當中其實已經暴露出一種非常可怕的道德權力。問題不只是「我不同意你」，而是「我有資格判斷你是否夠進步、夠覺醒、夠女性主義」。這種姿態一旦成為身份政治中的道德貨幣，女性主義便很容易由一種反思權力的思想，變成一套用來分辨誰更高尚、誰更落後的審判機器。

After all，說這些話的人，其實很多時也未必說得清楚甚麼是女性主義。她們頂多只是借用「女性主義」這個旗號，為自己建立一種道德身份和象徵權力而已。換句話說，女性主義不再是一種幫助我們理解處境、開展對話、反思權力的思想資源，而變成一種用來確認自己站在「正確一方」的道德身份：我站在正確的一邊，所以我有資格評價你、教育你，甚至在精神上取消你。

我甚至想對「挑戰壓迫」這個說法保持一點警惕。因為這個概念有時很容易令人假設自己必然站在被壓迫者一邊，自己就是好人、進步的人、覺醒的人，而對方就是落後、無知、需要被改造的人。這種自我定位看似正義，其實很危險。當一個人太快相信自己代表正義，太快把別人放在「壓迫者」的位置，她就可能失去自我反省的能力。結果，原本想批判權力的人，自己也開始用權力說話；原本想追求平等的人，自己反而變成另一種 moral police，甚至是我們廣東話所講的「道德撚」。

所以我想問：這種「請你接受，這是普世價值」和「最後他們只能選擇接受」的語氣，究竟是在推動女性主義，還是在製造一種新的道德階級？如果女性主義最終變成一種自我標榜的進步身份，讓人用來證明自己比別人更有覺悟、更有正義感、更值得被聽見，那麼我們至少需要停下來問：這還是不是一種能夠幫助人理解處境、開展對話、反思權力的思想？

我提出這些反思，並不是想否定女性主義語言的價值，而是希望稍為打開一點討論空間。也許，如果我們能夠對自己常用的一些概念和 jargons 更謹慎一點，不太快假設所有人都必須透過同一套語言去理解性別、權力和正義，我們便有可能改善與那些不熟悉、不同意、甚至不願使用這套語言的人之間的溝通。

同時，我們也可以反思，為甚麼我們有時那麼需要站在道德高地。這個位置當然可以帶來一種清晰感和力量，讓我們覺得自己知道問題在哪裡，也知道自己站在正確的一方。但這種道德身份也可能帶來限制：它會令我們較難看見現實處境中的灰色地帶，較難承認自己的盲點，也較難調整自己的語言、策略和行動方式。

更重要的是，當我們太相信自己「啱晒」，我們也可能在不自覺之間傷害很多人。因為一旦我們認定自己代表正義，就很容易合理化一些過分、過火、甚至帶有排斥性的做法。這些做法表面上也許能夠帶來某些即時效果，例如迫使對方沉默、退讓、道歉，或在公共空間中失去位置；但長遠來說，卻可能令更多人恐懼、疏離、防衛，甚至拒絕再進入對話。這樣的結果，未必真的推進了我們所關心的事情，反而可能得不償失。

當我們太依賴這種道德位置，就可能變得不夠靈活，也不夠 practical。面對複雜而不斷變化的社會處境，我們可能仍然反覆使用同一套詞彙、同一種姿態、同一種判斷方式，結果只是在自己的同溫層裡重複確認彼此的正確，而未必真的能夠理解或回應那些正在改變的困難。

我寫這篇回應，並不是因為我覺得自己已經找到答案，更不是因為我站在女性主義之外去批判女性主義。相反，正正因為我自己多年來也一直以女性主義之名，去做很多我認為正義和重要的事情，所以我才越來越覺得有需要回頭反思自己與女性主義的關係。

離開學術圈子和社運圈子之後，我反而有多一點距離，去重新看見自己過去一些想法可能太狹窄，也太快相信某些語言和立場本身就代表正義。我開始對自己過去常用的一些詞彙變得敏感，例如「壓迫」、「覺醒」、「普世價值」、「進步」等等。這些詞語當然不是沒有意義，但當我們太習慣使用它們，也可能不自覺地用它們去判斷、分類，甚至排除他人。

所以，這篇回應不是要給出一個結論，而是希望提出一些問題。也許透過這些問題，我們可以更誠實地想一想：我們如何使用女性主義？我們以女性主義之名建立了甚麼，又遮蔽了甚麼？女性主義與我們自身的關係、與我們身處的社會的關係，是否還有其他可以被看見和討論的可能？

In the Name of Feminism, in response to interview with Kyungjin Oh

Author: Petula Sik Ying Ho

I understand that Kyungjin Oh’s remarks may come from the context of the South Korean women’s movement facing an anti-feminist backlash. As someone who has long been involved in feminist activism in Korea, she may be speaking from a reality shaped by conservative politics and the long-standing marginalisation of women’s issues. For this reason, I can understand why she might think that feminist movements should not always have to seek basic respect in gentle, pleading, or conciliatory ways. Women do not need to make men feel comfortable before they are entitled to speak about their own situations and anger. Feminism can, of course, be forceful. It can be critical. It can refuse to be ignored.

Yet precisely because of this, we need to make an important distinction: when a movement becomes stronger under pressure, does that automatically give it the right to call its own position a “universal value”? I have serious reservations about this, especially the sentence: “Please accept this. It is a universal value.” Who has the authority to define what counts as a “universal value”? And who has the authority to demand that others accept it? Kyungjin Oh seems to assume that the feminism she has in mind is itself a universal value, and that those who do not accept it are therefore backward, ignorant, or in need of education. This posture is already something we should be cautious about.

More precisely, what she is describing may not be an absolute “universal value” at all, but one particular articulation of feminism within a Western progressive liberal discourse. This discourse certainly has historical significance, and it has contributed to many important struggles for equality. But it should not be packaged as the only correct, civilised, and universal answer. Women from different cultures, religions, classes, ethnic backgrounds, family structures, and life experiences may understand freedom, equality, the body, relationships, care, motherhood, marriage, work, and dignity in very different ways.

If feminism becomes a matter of saying, “We know better than you,” “We are more progressive than you,” and “In the end, you can only accept it,” is it still an open form of thought? Or does it begin to reproduce the very things we should be most alert to in patriarchal systems: domination, moral superiority, and an intolerance of dissent?

I am also deeply uneasy about the practice of judging whether others are “feminist enough” in the name of feminism. If some people truly believe they possess a set of feminist standards, and that they can use this knowledge to determine who is “not feminist enough,” then even if they do not openly condemn or punish others, a frightening form of moral power is already being revealed.

The issue is not simply “I disagree with you.” The issue is: “I have the authority to judge whether you are progressive enough, awakened enough, feminist enough.” Once this posture becomes a kind of moral currency within identity politics, feminism can easily shift from being a way of reflecting on power into a machine for deciding who is morally superior and who is backward.

After all, many of those who speak in this way may not even be able to clearly explain what feminism is. At most, they may be borrowing the banner of “feminism” in order to construct a moral identity and symbolic authority for themselves. In other words, feminism is no longer a resource that helps us understand situations, open up dialogue, and reflect on power. It becomes a moral identity used to confirm that one is standing on the “right side”: I am on the right side, therefore I have the right to judge you, educate you, and even cancel you in spirit.

I would even like to remain cautious about the phrase “challenging oppression.” This concept can sometimes lead people to assume too quickly that they must be standing on the side of the oppressed, that they are the good people, the progressive people, the awakened people, while the other side is backward, ignorant, and in need of transformation. This self-positioning may look righteous, but it is dangerous. When someone too quickly believes that she represents justice, and too quickly places others in the position of “oppressor,” she may lose the capacity for self-reflection. As a result, the person who originally wanted to criticise power may begin to speak with power herself. The person who originally wanted to pursue equality may instead become another kind of moral police, or, as we might say in Cantonese, a “道德撚”: someone who uses morality as a weapon.

So I want to ask: when one says, “Please accept this. It is a universal value,” or “In the end, they can only choose to accept it,” is this really advancing feminism, or is it producing a new moral hierarchy? If feminism ultimately becomes a self-declared progressive identity, used to prove that one is more awakened, more righteous, and more deserving of being heard than others, then we need at least to pause and ask: is this still a way of thinking that helps us understand situations, open dialogue, and reflect on power?

These reflections are not intended to dismiss the value of feminist language. Rather, they are an attempt to open up a little more space for discussion. Perhaps if we could be more careful with some of the concepts and jargons we habitually use, and not assume too quickly that everyone must understand gender, power, and justice through the same vocabulary, we might be able to communicate better with those who are unfamiliar with, unconvinced by, or even resistant to this language.

At the same time, we may also need to reflect on why we sometimes feel such a need to stand on the moral high ground. That position can certainly bring a sense of clarity and strength. It can make us feel that we know where the problem lies, and that we are standing on the right side. But this moral identity can also impose limits: it may make it harder for us to see the grey areas in actual social situations, harder to acknowledge our own blind spots, and harder to adjust our language, strategies, and forms of action.

More importantly, when we believe too strongly that we are entirely right, we may also end up hurting many people without realising it. Once we assume that we represent justice, it becomes easy to justify methods that are excessive, disproportionate, or exclusionary. Such methods may appear to produce immediate results, such as forcing others into silence, retreat, apology, or loss of standing in public spaces. But in the longer run, they may also create more fear, alienation, defensiveness, and unwillingness to enter into dialogue. This may not truly advance the causes we care about. It may, in fact, cost us more than it gains.

When we rely too heavily on this moral position, we may become less flexible and less practical. Faced with complex and constantly changing social realities, we may continue to repeat the same vocabulary, the same posture, and the same mode of judgment. In the end, we may simply be confirming one another’s correctness within our own echo chambers, without necessarily understanding or responding to the difficulties that are actually changing around us.

I am writing this response not because I think I have already found the answer, nor because I stand outside feminism in order to criticise it. On the contrary, it is precisely because I myself have, for many years, acted in the name of feminism and done many things that I believed to be just and important, that I increasingly feel the need to reflect on my own relationship with feminism.

After leaving the academic and activist circles in which I was once deeply immersed, I have gained a little more distance from which to look back. I am beginning to see that some of my past ways of thinking may have been too narrow, and that I may have been too quick to believe that certain languages and positions were themselves expressions of justice. I have therefore become more sensitive to some of the terms I used to rely on, such as “oppression,” “awakening,” “universal values,” and “progress.” These words are certainly not meaningless. But when we become too accustomed to using them, we may also begin, without noticing it, to judge, classify, and even exclude others through them.

So this response is not meant to offer a conclusion. It is an attempt to raise a few questions. Perhaps through these questions, we can think more honestly about how we use feminism: what we build in the name of feminism, what we obscure in the name of feminism, and whether there are other possibilities for understanding the relationship between feminism, ourselves, and the society in which we live.

(Petula Sik Ying Ho, is a member of Hub Church. She was formerly Professor in the Department of Social Work and Social Administration at The University of Hong Kong, and retired in 2022. In recent years, she has been learning singing and dance, taking Bible study and script-reading classes, and continuing to make documentary films, while reflecting on the relationship between faith, society, and the self.)