The first time I heard about misogyny

We asked leading academics to recall the first time they heard of the term "misogyny" and recount how it made them feel and the impact it has had on their work.

Bingchun Meng is Professor in the Department for Media and Communications at LSE, where she also co-directs the LSE-Fudan Global Public Policy Research Centre. Professor Meng is currently the Director of LSE PhD Academy and Economic and Social Research Council Doctoral Training Partnership.

Misogyny, as a translated term, has only begun to circulate in Chinese public discourse in the past decade. I don’t recall my very first encounter with the term, but it’s likely that I was introduced to the concept in the feminist theory course I took during my first term of graduate school in the US. For me, the explanatory power of misogyny first and foremost lies in the introspection it enables, rather than in its use to criticise the thoughts and behaviours of others.

Misogyny offered a conceptual tool for me to take notice of the gender hierarchy that underpins everyday language. I constantly heard from the adults around me as a teenager that “girls should sit and walk like girls”. My friends and I made disparaging comments about “girls who don’t behave properly”. And there are the simultaneously banal yet vehement ways in which middle-aged women in power were vilified in casual conversations.

Misogyny helped me to make sense of the ambivalent feelings I frequently experienced as a young girl in response to popular media. Consider, for instance, a heart-wrenching pop song that captures a woman’s deep longing for the man who abandoned her for another, or the romance novel that tells a man's indignation toward a materialistic woman who places wealth above love. The misogynistic undertone of these moral tales was not always easy to detect, but they could be powerful vehicles for girls and young women to internalise patriarchal values.

The term misogyny allows me to pinpoint the toxic masculinity that permeates our society, just like classism and racism highlight other facets of the intersecting structures of oppression. Just as with classism or racism, moving beyond a victim mindset may be a good first step toward enacting changes.

Dr Souad Mohamed is a multidisciplinary scholar, CEO and strategic advisor specialising in leadership development, and Senior Visiting Fellow at the LSE's Centre for Women, Peace and Security.

I remember returning from maternity leave and hearing a colleague remark: “This is your third break. You will need to work twice as hard to catch up.” At the time, I smiled politely and said nothing. Later, a female colleague told me: “What you just experienced, that’s misogyny.”

The word felt too strong. What I saw instead was a misconception, a lack of understanding about what maternity leave really means, and a lack of appreciation for the value women bring when they return.

That moment stayed with me. Not because it was malicious, but because it revealed how unconscious assumptions shape women’s experiences at work. It also showed me how often women are judged for choices men are rarely asked to defend.

As someone who has spent many years in academia and now works globally in leadership development, I have learned this: the barriers women face are often less about deliberate exclusion and more about unexamined beliefs. When leaders become aware of these misconceptions, they can change them.

But as leaders, we have a responsibility to name them, reframe them, and build pathways forward. Misconceptions about women’s leadership potential cost organisations real value. McKinsey’s Women in the Workplace report shows that companies with gender-diverse leadership are 21 per cent more likely to outperform peers in profitability, proof that inclusion is not only right but strategic.

In my work across the UK, MENA, and Africa, I have witnessed one universal theme: once leaders become aware of misconceptions, they can change them. Awareness leads to action, and action leads to more inclusive, effective leadership.

More importantly, leadership today is not only about strategy and performance; it is about the culture we create. Every assumption, every policy, and every interaction shapes whether talent is diminished or empowered.

The question for all of us in leadership is this: what kind of culture are we choosing to create?

Dr Ewa K. Strzelecka is a transdisciplinary scholar and award-winning author with expertise that transcends the disciplinary boundaries between political science, social anthropology, international relations, migration, peace, and gender studies. She is a Visiting Fellow at the LSE's Centre for Women, Peace and Security.

The first time I heard about the concept of misogyny was during my gender studies in Spain. The term was not new, but it made me think about how often it is misunderstood. In popular debate, it sounded like a strong accusation, almost excessive, evoking the image of men who hate women. But in academic discourse, I learned that misogyny is not about personal hatred; it is about power and control.

It is a disciplinary system that enforces patriarchal norms and punishes women who defy them. Women who “know their place” do not need to be put in it. This dynamic is clearly visible in politics and public life across the world. Misogynistic individuals may make derogatory remarks about non-compliant women while publicly praising and supporting their wives, mothers, daughters, and female supporters. The problem does not lie in the “good” woman but in “the other” — the one who refuses to conform, who thinks too freely, speaks too loudly, or steps too far beyond what is deemed appropriate. She becomes a threat to the patriarchal order and is often disciplined, discredited, and stigmatised by both men and women who have internalised the same logic of control.

Although misogyny often feels deeply personal for those who experience it, wounding, isolating, and silencing, analytically it remains political. When recognised as a strategy of domination that shapes both private and public life, it becomes visible as a structural problem, one that demands public attention and institutional accountability.

To challenge misogyny is not merely to criticise or expose; it is to reimagine the foundations of our societies. It is to create communities grounded not in conflict or hierarchy but in cooperation, justice, and equality, where difference is not a threat to order but the beginning of human freedom. Such freedom requires courage: the courage to step outside prescribed scenarios, to lead the change, and to build a world where everyone feels respected and accepted, and where gender no longer shapes one’s destiny.