I first found out I wasn't supposed to write about women politicians' clothes in 2006. Profiling the Democratic nominee for Nevada governor for the Las Vegas Review-Journal, I had described her as habitually wearing a "shapeless skirt suit."
I wrote that because it was the sort of visual detail that helps readers engage with a piece's subject, and because it illuminated the persona of the candidate, a political science professor. But she took it as a slur. I soon heard that she'd taken to repeating the description at Democratic campaign meetings as evidence of the sexism and media bias her candidacy faced. "Molly Ball, in the Review-Journal, wrote that I wore shapeless skirts!" she would hiss, to sympathetic noises from the crowd. I have no doubt she was wearing a shapeless skirt suit when she said it. But the accuracy of the description wasn't the point; it was the way I'd supposedly tried to trivialize her by writing about the way she looked.
As a newly minted political reporter, it was one of my first lessons in the sinister motivations partisans frequently read into coverage intended as neutral. It was also my introduction to an enduring trope in American politics: the idea that any mention of a woman's appearance constitutes damaging sexism. Jon Ward of the Huffington Post got a similar education recently when he wrote about South Carolina congressional candidate Elizabeth Colbert Busch. He described her wearing "a bright orange overcoat that radiated positive vibes," prompting @nameitchangeit -- "Fighting sexism in the media directed at women candidates and politicians" -- to call him out on Twitter: "Honestly @jonward11 (and rest of @HuffingtonPost), can we stick to the candidates and leave their outfits out of it?" (When Ward pointed out that he'd also described the clothing of Colbert Busch's male opponent, the original blog post attacking his coverage was taken down and replaced with a less critical one.)
In April, Name It Change It issued a study aimed at proving that media mentions of women's appearance hurt their chances of getting elected. The group's researchers conducted a poll in which respondents were introduced to two imaginary candidates -- one male, one female. Then they were split into four groups. The first group, the control, was shown a news story about the candidates in which neither candidate's appearance was mentioned. The second got a story in which the woman's style was described in neutral terms; the third heard a harshly negative description of the woman's appearance; and the fourth was shown a positive portrayal of the woman's looks.
As my colleague Garance Franke-Ruta wrote at the time, the study found that it didn't matter whether the description was positive, negative, or neutral; any mention of the woman candidate's appearance was detrimental to voters' opinions of her. "Jane Smith" got a 69 percent favorable rating when her appearance was not described; her favorability rating dropped to 61 percent with the neutral description, 57 percent with the positive description and 58 percent with the negative one. "Importantly," the study concluded, "even appearance coverage that purports to be neutral or complimentary damages the woman."
But Franke-Ruta also noted that the descriptions the study tested weren't exactly realistic representations of the way the media describes women candidates. "The researchers provide three examples about hypothetical candidate Jane Smith, but I'm not sure these actually communicate what they are intended to," Franke-Ruta wrote. The supposedly "neutral" description, she observed, sounded dowdy; the "negative" description of heavy makeup and "famous fake, tacky nails" communicated something "highly culturally specific."
I can't imagine a mainstream news article describing a candidate's appearance in such overtly judgmental tones. (The study's authors claim their examples are drawn from real news coverage, but the bit about the nails came from two posts on the Huffington Post's style blog and a Washington Post Style piece that grappled with whether we ought to be talking about Michele Bachmann's nails at all.) In methodological terms, there was another glaring problem with the study: It never tested how voters would respond to descriptions of the hypothetical male candidate's appearance. It simply took as a given that women are the only candidates whose looks are routinely examined.
Two political scientists, Danny Hayes of George Washington University and Jennifer Lawless of American University, sought to test the premise in what they believed to be a more rigorous manner. They did their own poll, gauging respondents' reactions to positive, neutral, and negative descriptions of both a male and a female candidate. (They also gave their imaginary candidates identical biographies; the Name It Change It study's male and female subjects had different backgrounds, though voters viewed them about the same before the appearance test.) They found that there was no gender-based difference in how voters responded to the descriptions. Voters reacted negatively to a candidate described as "disheveled and sloppy" whether it was a man or a woman, and actually penalized men more for such judgments. "When Susan Williams and Michael Stevenson are described similarly -- whether in neutral, positive, negative, or no appearance terms -- their favorability ratings are indistinguishable from each other," the authors wrote.