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Spoiler: If your feminism relies on police and prisons, it’s not protecting us—it’s punishing us.
For a movement that claims to be rooted in liberation, carceral feminism sure loves a cage.
At its core, carceral feminism is the belief that the best—or only—way to address gender-based violence is through criminalization, policing, and punishment. It rose to prominence in the 1990s alongside tough-on-crime policies and second-wave calls for legal reform. And on the surface, it sounds reasonable: violence against women is bad, so let’s punish the people who commit it. Simple, right?
Except it’s not. Because when we scratch beneath the surface, we see that this approach doesn’t serve all women—just the ones who fit a very narrow idea of victimhood. And when it comes to understanding consent? Carceral feminism gets it wrong. Over and over and over again.
Spoiler: If your feminism relies on police and prisons, it’s not protecting us—it’s punishing us.
For a movement that claims to be rooted in liberation, carceral feminism sure loves a cage.
At its core, carceral feminism is the belief that the best—or only—way to address gender-based violence is through criminalization, policing, and punishment. It rose to prominence in the 1990s alongside tough-on-crime policies and second-wave calls for legal reform. And on the surface, it sounds reasonable: violence against women is bad, so let’s punish the people who commit it. Simple, right?
Except it’s not. Because when we scratch beneath the surface, we see that this approach doesn’t serve all women—just the ones who fit a very narrow idea of victimhood. And when it comes to understanding consent? Carceral feminism gets it wrong. Over and over and over again.