When Kamala Harris picked Tim Walz as her vice-presidential running mate, the governor of Minnesota and former advisor to his school’s gay-straight alliance student club was instantly compared with his Republican counterpart, J.D. Vance.

There are many differences between these two men. But against a backdrop of raging culture wars in the US, it has been their views on gender equality and women’s rights that have animated public discussions.

Vance grabbed the headlines with statements about “childless cat ladies” not being fit for politics. He attacked Harris and other women and LGBTQ+ people without biological children, amplifying conservative gender norms that value women only as mothers.

His statements built on a speech he gave in 2021 when he expressed his sympathies for the far-right politics of the Hungarian prime minister, Victor Orbán. In it he described childlessness as a “civilizational crisis” in the USA.

Walz, on the other hand, has been spotlighted for his support for LGBTQ+ people and the right to abortion, which he cemented in Minnesota after the roll-back of Roe vs Wade. Opponents have attacked Walz as “Tampon Tim” – drawing on his trans-inclusive support for free menstrual products in all public school toilets – and put his support for gender equality front and centre.

These differences between the vice-presidential candidates highlight how misogyny in politics fuels the rollback of important rights and democratic freedoms. But it also shows how important it is for male politicians to step up to support rights of women and LGBTQ+ people – not least because men continue to dominate political institutions in most parts of the word.

Privately pro-feminist

In a year when a record 3.7 billion people head to the polls across the globe – and will likely be exposed to political messaging that threatens gender equality – voices of men like Walz have an important role to play in advancing gender equality.

But many men in politics keep their feminist beliefs or sympathies for gender equality a secret. Only a handful of men in positions of political leadership, among them Canada’s Justin Trudeau, Liberia’s George Weah, and Barack Obama in the US, have even been prepared to publicly call themselves feminist.

But why?

In our recent study at ODI, we partnered with research teams in Colombia, Liberia and Malaysia to ask male politicians who either identify as feminists or support gender equality what motivates them to take up the agenda. We also set out to identify what critical factors prevent them from speaking out in support of these goals, such their views of feminism, perceived religious and cultural views of their voters, and the political cultures of their parties.

We learned that many pro-gender equality men in politics are drawn to the agenda because of the women in their lives, whose experience of discrimination drives their sense of injustice or whose perseverance brings admiration and support. Others may have their own social justice experience, for example as queer people, or feel a sense of moral obligation.

But this is often not enough to overcome concerns about the political and social costs they may face for their proclaimed feminism or allyship. Some of these costs remain rooted in the myths that feminism is about women’s domination over men.

Voters around the world, including in the US, are influenced by the demonisation of feminism spread by influencial people who oppose feminism and gender equality such as Vance and other proponents of Project 2025, backed by extremely well-funded networks.

As a result, feminism is still seen as “a dirty word” – as one of our respondents put it. In many parts of the world, it is often misrepresented as a western, colonial imposition incompatible with local religious and cultural norms. In fact, women’s rights activists and feminists in many parts of the world have been calling for equity and equality for centuries.

But anti-feminist discourses are not the only obstacles. Political party practices and a widespread culture of misogyny also play a huge role. Lack of peer support or fear of repercussions for calling out colleagues’ misogyny is part and parcel of most political parties and institutions, which have been built to suit men’s lives and the dominant masculine, patriarchal norms that devalue women as leaders.

What can be done?

Our political systems, the US and UK included, urgently need changing if we want to ensure equal representation of all people in their diversity. We must recognise and transform formal and informal rules of politics that make misogynist attacks by men such as Vance or Donald Trump an accepted cost of doing politics for women. We must normalise male allies and feminists who are willing to put their political capital behind the fight for women’s rights and LGBTQ+ freedoms.

Our research suggests three ways to do this.

First, we need to bring men in power on a journey of critical reflection about what it means to be a man. There are many organisations that have successfully worked with men to help them realise that challenging patriarchal norms benefits everyone, because the constraints of patriarchy limit the human potential of all people – men included.

Second, we need to create more opportunities for male politicians to learn how to be allies and feminists. For example, we can connect them with men like Walz who can serve as sources of inspiration. We can encourage them to form peer-to-peer networks where they can be comfortable speaking about feminist issues, and to work with feminist civil society organisations to stay accountable to feminist goals.

Above all, sustainable solutions lie with transforming how people view gender equality and the types of policies and politicians they demand. Investing in gender-transformative education can over time create a political environment where equitable and just politics becomes the obvious choice for men – and where men like Walz can confidently and safely demand reproductive rights and human dignity for all people.

Ján Michalko, Research Fellow, Gender Equality and Social Inclusion, ODI

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.