It is not exactly rare for a nation to elect a woman as its leader; sixty-three countries have done it since the first, Sirimavo Bandaranaike, became prime minister of Sri Lanka in 1960. But it is far from the norm. Today only fifteen of the world’s nations have a woman at the helm1 and many of those that were once led by a woman have not repeated the experience. Think Israel, France, Canada, Norway and the United Kingdom. In fact, in April 2013 just three countries that today have women leaders have had one (and only one) previously: Argentina, Bangladesh and Lithuania. For the other twelve nations, this is the first time they have been governed by a woman. Australia, of course, is one of these countries and you can’t help wondering whether Germany, Brazil, Denmark, Jamaica and Thailand—to name several of them—are handling the situation as badly as we are.
So far, with every Australian state and territory, except South Australia, having elected a woman to the top job at least once,2 we have had ten women heads of government in this country, but if we thought having these trail blazers might make it easier for the first female national leader, we were wrong. In June 2013, Julia Gillard has been in the job for exactly three years. She has already exceeded the time in office of her predecessor Kevin Rudd and, a far more significant landmark for True Believers, has served longer than Labor hero Gough Whitlam. If she wins the election to be held in September 2013 she will quickly surpass the terms of legendary Labor leaders John Curtin, Ben Chifley and Paul Keating. She would become the second-longest-serving Labor prime minister after Bob Hawke and were she to win a third term she might manage to break his record. Yet most of the commentary about Julia Gillard, including from some of her parliamentary colleagues, gives the impression that she is a transitory and insignificant figure whose grasp on the levers of power is tenuous, who is incompetent at governing and whose very tenure is illegitimate.
On 14 September Julia Gillard will face the Australian electorate for the second time. In 2010, when she called an election just a few weeks after becoming this country’s first female prime minister, she had a massive lead in the polls and a 38-point increase in personal popularity over the man she’d replaced. In 2013 Gillard faces the electorate as the underdog, with many commentators confidently predicting that she will lead her party to its greatest ever electoral defeat. In 2010, of course, Gillard’s lead collapsed midway through the campaign after a series of lethal leaks that were designed to drive a stake through the heart of her credibility had their intended effect. Her popularity slumped—along with her party’s—after it was alleged, via these leaks, that the childless Gillard had opposed the paid parental leave policy in cabinet and that she had been heartless enough to argue against an increase in the aged pension. If the electorate thought that with Gillard they were going to get a more caring person at the helm, these leaks were designed to dispel that. She might be female, was the implication, but don’t for a moment think she has the caring characteristics we usually associate with women.
As we know, Gillard did not win a parliamentary majority and has governed since with the support of the cross-benchers. To secure an alliance with the Australian Greens, Gillard agreed to go back on an election promise that there would be no carbon tax; her political opponents branded her a ‘liar’ for this backflip, and the label has dogged her ever since. It is now accepted that the hung parliament, the relentless negativity of Opposition Leader Tony Abbott, the persistent campaign by former leader Kevin Rudd to get his job back and the greatly accelerated 24-hour news cycle have put unprecedented pressure on the government in general but especially on the Prime Minister. That this situation coincides with our being governed by our first federal female leader raises some questions, not just about cause and effect, though these are certainly pertinent, but about what specific conclusions about women’s political leadership we can draw from the experience of the Gillard government.
In addition to doing their job running the country (or the state), women leaders without exception have to deal with subjects and issues that are never raised with their male counterparts. Their very femininity is constantly called into question: their marital and maternal status is savagely evaluated, and their overall appearance, including their hair, their clothes and even their body shape, is continually scrutinised and more often than not found to be wanting. Every Australian woman political leader has faced this kind of commentary. When she was Victorian premier Joan Kirner was mercilessly ridiculed for her clothes, as was Carmen Lawrence, as premier of Western Australia, for her ordinariness (‘Lawrence of suburbia’), and former Queensland premier Anna Bligh was constantly abused with hateful gender-related comments. But each of these women, like Kristina Keneally when she was premier of New South Wales and Clare Martin who was chief minister of the Northern Territory, are mothers and Australians still have a degree of reverence for mothers. This is another form of sexism, of course, but it does seem to shield women who have kids from some of the worst kind of bile that is directed at those who do not.
No holds seem to be barred when it comes to Lara Giddings, the young, single and childless Tasmanian Premier, and, of course, Prime Minister Julia Gillard. The latter, especially, attracts vituperation that is unprecedented in Australian politics. Gillard’s situation pushes all the buttons that get conservatives exercised: she is not a mother; she is not married, she lives ‘in sin’; she is an atheist. Gillard has been accused of being ‘deliberately barren’ by a Liberal Party senator,3 been told by Mark Latham, a former leader of her own party, that her decision not to have children meant ‘by definition you haven’t got as much love in your life’4 (and therefore lacked empathy) and been advised by the Leader of the Opposition that she should ‘make an honest woman of herself’.5 He was talking about the carbon tax but his choice of words was instructive: not just reminding voters that Gillard was female and ‘dishonest’ but also that she should get married. I cannot recall a single example of any politician—male or female—making a point to voters about a male politician’s gender or marital status. Not one. There is, of course, no need because male is the norm.
One thing is obvious: it simply is not possible to talk about women leaders without talking about gender. Gender is not just relevant, it is the core issue. Women leaders who try to disregard it, and most of them do try to, find themselves inexorably pinned by assumptions, stereotypes and outright and often hostile prejudices that are specifically to do with their being female. No woman leader in Australia—and this is likely to be true of others at least in Western countries—has yet been able to find a political path in which her gender is irrelevant. I suspect it will be a long time before that is possible. We have not yet had a sufficient number of women leaders for gender not to matter; and it will continue to matter, perhaps even long into the future, after we have had as many female leaders as men, so long as gender is used as a weapon against women. And used it is, brutally and effectively. That it can be, and that it is so wounding to the morale and the reputation of the recipient, tells us not only are we are a very long way from accepting women as equals in our society, but that we are even further from being comfortable having women lead us.
It is still a comparatively new thing for Australians to see women leading us politically and it is something we are still getting used to. This is especially true with federal politics. Before 2007, Australian governments had few senior women and those who were there were not always visible to the majority of voters. It is worth remembering that the progressive Whitlam government (1972–75) had no women at all. The government of Malcolm Fraser (1975–83) had just one woman in cabinet (Senator Margaret Guilfoyle), as did Bob Hawke’s for the entire eight years he was in power (1983–91)—first Senator Susan Ryan, then Ros Kelly. Paul Keating had only one woman in his first cabinet (Ros Kelly) but two in his second when Carmen Lawrence was promoted straight into cabinet after she won a seat in parliament in 1993. John Howard’s first two cabinets (1996–2001) included two women (senators Jocelyn Newman and Amanda Vanstone), while there were three in each of his last two cabinets (2004–07): Vanstone was joined by senators Helen Coonan and Kay Patterson; after the latter left politics, Julie Bishop became the third woman member of Howard’s last cabinet.
It was only in 2007, when the Rudd government was elected, that for the first time there were four women in Cabinet. Not only that, but they were all high profile: Penny Wong, Nicola Roxon, Jenny Macklin and of course Julia Gillard herself as deputy prime minister were often seen on the nightly news and soon became well known to the electorate. It had taken a long time. We might have got our first female premiers in 1990 but it was another two decades before Australia finally had its first female prime minister and ever since we have been on a political roller-coaster ride of a kind we have never experienced before. We are still trying to grasp the dimensions of the differences, not just in the way a woman might govern but in the way she is regarded and treated by her colleagues, the media and the electorate. In the case of Julia Gillard, we have to conclude that she has been treated disgracefully.
Although male politicians might occasionally have some aspect of their clothes remarked upon—Paul Keating was criticised for wearing Italian, rather than Australian-made, suits—they never, repeat never, have to endure the banality of the endless sartorial commentary that all women in politics, but especially the leaders, have to deal with. Women leaders need to adopt strategies to try to neutralise this. Hillary Clinton, when she was running for president in 2008 and later as US secretary of state, adopted the pants suit as a virtual uniform. She varied the colour and added accessories such as scarves or jewellery but essentially she, like men in public life, wore the same outfit every day. German Chancellor Angela Merkel has done the same. She has such an array of different coloured jackets, which she wears over black pants, that some wag even created a pictorial representation of a Pantone-style colour chart of her wearing them all and labelled it ‘Fifty Shades of Angela Merkel’. Gillard evidently struggled for a time to vanquish this issue. She has admitted how hard it was for her to face the daily criticism of what she was wearing. This was especially cruel and relentless in her first year in the job when her jackets, especially, were singled out as ill-fitting and badly designed. In April 2013 Gillard commented that she had since worked to make sure her clothes were not an issue. She now has a wardrobe of well-tailored outfits, mostly suits, in solid colours. Wearing them, she exudes the confidence that comes from knowing her ‘look’ is going to emphasise her overall purpose rather than undermine it.
Yet however hard Gillard and other women leaders work to defuse their appearance as a subject of commentary, they cannot escape it altogether. This is because the male is still the norm and all that women have managed to do so far is to try to find a suitable female variant of that. As the writer Jane Goodall has argued:
There are examples of female political leaders from non-western cultures who have adapted traditional female dress to create a personal image free of any suggestion that they are in roles defined by masculine conventions. Benazir Bhutto and Aung San Suu Kyi show how a woman in long skirts of beautiful fabrics, with a veil over her head or flowers in her hair, can look strong, elegant and distinctive. Yet western dress conventions for political leaders of both sexes are based on masculine traditions of business attire … Attempts to feminize the look—through diversified approaches to the cut of the jacket, the introduction of bold colour in fabric choices, and the addition of pearls and crusty brooches—only make the anomaly more conspicuous.6
Australian women do not have ‘traditional female dress’ to fall back on so they are stuck with trying to create acceptable feminine variants of the suit. In my view, they might as well embrace it with creative gusto and make full use of fabric and colour to emphasise whatever mood or message they are trying to convey at a particular event. If she embraced this with flair, a female leader could even enjoy a rare advantage over her male counterparts in their dull blues and greys.
A far bigger quandary for women political leaders than what to wear is who to follow. Because there have been so few female leaders, especially in political cultures that are comparable to ours, relevant role models are pretty much non-existent. This is not only an issue for women who might want guidance, encouragement and even inspiration from a political peer or a predecessor, but it is also a significant factor influencing the way the electorate judges women leaders. Voters have no idea what to expect from women leaders. We don’t know what they should look like or how they should behave. There are no benchmarks, no accepted conventions and precious few precedents. Every prime minister learns on the job; however assiduously she or he may have observed others doing it, there is absolutely no preparation for what it is like to actually be the one who is in charge. In Gillard’s case, where she had acted as prime minister for around one-third of the time Kevin Rudd was in the position, she undoubtedly had greater insights than some of her predecessors but she was almost certainly unprepared for the avalanche of hostility and abuse that soon followed her into the job.
Given that she had enjoyed such popularity as deputy prime minister, she must have been taken aback at this sudden reversal of opinion. She was the same person, acting in pretty much the same way, wearing the same clothes she’d always worn, yet opinion had shifted sharply. Why? Was it simply because of the way she came to power, deposing a first-term prime minister (something that was rare then but heads of government have since been deposed twice at state or territory level, both times on the conservative side of politics)? Or was it something else? It must have been sobering, and perhaps prompted her to ask the question: is it being a woman in the top job that makes this kind of difference?
Should a woman be just the same as a male leader, only in brighter coloured clothes? Or do we expect—and want—them to be different? Do we project onto women in power our stereotyped notions of what women are, or should be, and then judge them accordingly? Recently in Germany that country’s youngest female minister, 35-year-old Kristina Schroder, was attacked as a Rabenmutter when she returned to work ten weeks after giving birth. This uniquely German term, which translates as ‘raven mother’, describes a selfish career woman who flits back to work soon after birth, leaving babies squawking in the nest.7
We don’t know—yet—where the boundaries of sexual politics lie. You could argue that the job of prime minister has no gender attached to it, that the decisions and choices required of a nation’s leader are gender-neutral, and I would agree with this proposition. The problem is that most of the population does not see it this way. Many voters view a female political leader through the prism of sexual stereotypes. Perhaps this is not surprising given the lack of history and the absence of other criteria but it does affect the female leader adversely. The qualities that are inarguably essential to doing the job—a toughness that at times might border on brutality—are at odds with the traditional female stereotype. If we think a woman showing aggression is at odds with the way women ought to behave, it will be virtually impossible for us to approve of a woman leader when she is assertive (as she will most certainly need to be), since too often the double standard depicts assertiveness in women as ‘aggression’.
At the same time, if a woman cries—which is in conformity with the stereotype that women are more emotional—she is judged to be insincere. When Julia Gillard teared up during a condolence motion in parliament in early 2011 for flood victims in Queensland, she was accused of fakery.8 No such accusations were made when prime minister Bob Hawke cried when talking about the Chinese students killed in Tiananmen Square. Often, for a woman leader, there is simply no winning. Just for doing the job the way it should be done, a woman political leader will be harshly judged and, often, condemned. It is no coincidence that female leaders of all political persuasions are routinely referred to as ‘bitches’. This is the only language we have, it seems, to express our disapproval of a woman who is not conforming to our expectations of traditional femininity. It means there is an intrinsic and, for the moment, ineradicable contradiction in the eyes of many voters (including the parliamentary colleagues of the woman leader) between how women are supposed to behave and how leaders need to.
This has several consequences. A woman leader may find it difficult to have her authority recognised and respected, and this will impinge on her ability to lead and hence to govern. This again goes to the absence of examples of other women having done it and therefore having helped shape voter receptivity to the sight of a woman exercising authority. Let’s face it, we are just not used to it. In the past the only female authority figures most of us have been exposed to have been mothers or they have been teachers. These are the archetypes of female leadership in this country and, it goes without saying, they don’t quite embody the qualities required by a political leader.
A mother might at times be called on to be a disciplinarian, although for my generation at least, that task more often was delegated to her husband (‘Just wait till your father gets home!’), but the essential qualities that defined her were those associated with nurturing. She fed and bathed and clothed us, she played with us when we were little, comforted us when we fell over in the playground or when other kids were mean to us. She was a carer and a peacemaker, the essential hub of most homes. Most of us have complicated feelings about mothers and motherhood, and there is still a strong conservative strain in this country that believes that mothers should remain within the domestic sphere, at least while their children are young. This view is at odds with the notion of women being active and assertive in the public domain. It’s why female parliamentarians with young children are constantly asked how they manage whereas male parliamentarians with young children never are. You’d think that a woman who does not have children would be seen as uniquely qualified to be our leader, given she does not have to ‘manage’ offspring, but perversely Australians tend to be censorious towards women without children. Again, we project a stereotype but it is one that Julia Gillard cannot conform to. She can never be the ‘mother of the nation’. Even if she wanted to, which is unlikely.
Perhaps she could be our teacher, that other traditionally female source of authority? In some ways this is ideal because Gillard has made education her signature issue and she can literally ‘teach’ the nation how the Gonski reforms will lift standards and assist disadvantaged students. Given that there must be few of us who have not spent at least part of our school years being taught by women, we should have no difficulty accepting her exercising authority in such a role. The trouble is, important as teachers are, their qualities are not those needed to run a country. Whereas a teacher needs to be patient and solicitous, often a specialist, able to pace herself according to the needs of individuals, a political leader is by definition a generalist, across all portfolios, decisive and at times ruthless, managing her party, her nation and its international relations.
When it comes to models for female authority, Julia Gillard might have male mentors and there are women and men she says she admires but there are very few women she can point to in a comparable political system who have exercised the kind of political authority she has and who can guide her. The closest example would have to be New Zealand, which for the eleven years between 1997 and 2008 had two women prime ministers,9 but Australians are not in the habit of looking across the ditch for political guidance and I doubt whether Gillard has done so. Hillary Clinton is a different proposition and Gillard had several meetings with her while she was still secretary of state; they no doubt exchanged views on this subject but Clinton, important though her job was, did not have to deal with the pressures of elected office and having to keep a government together. The only real example that Gillard can look to, however unpalatable it might be, is Margaret Thatcher.
There have been times, watching Gillard speak, when she has seemed to me to be a bit ‘Thatcheresque’ in tone and demeanour. I have no doubt this is unconscious and unintended, and there is certainly no ideological or temperamental congruence between the two women, but when it comes to the playbook for how women political leaders should comport themselves, Thatcher is one of the few relevant examples we can turn to. She operated in the Westminster system, as Gillard does, meaning that as well as being accountable to the parliament, her cabinet could not be entirely of her choosing and she had to live with constant disloyalty and even treachery, as Gillard has had to. There are many vital differences, of course. For one thing, Gillard is no Queen Bee. Gillard has appointed a record number of women ministers and parliamentary secretaries—30 per cent of them are women—whereas Thatcher appeared to relish being the lone woman in her government. Gillard also has a very different set of principles and beliefs about ‘society’ and the role it ought to play in improving the lives of its citizens. But there are some parallels.
Following Margaret Thatcher’s death in April 2013, we were reminded of what a divisive figure she was in British politics and how ruthlessly she had pursued her agenda of radical reform, but we also learned how difficult and lonely it is for a woman prime minister, even one as resilient and tough as Thatcher. The reaction to Thatcher’s death also served to remind us just how easily we slip into a sexually based vocabulary of abuse when we disagree with the politics of a woman leader. ‘Ding dong, the witch is dead’ was a widely expressed sentiment.10 It is not easy to think of examples of similarly sexually based abuse of male political leaders. I can’t think of any for the simple reason that there are no comparable words to ‘bitch’ and ‘witch’ to describe men.
Gillard’s tenure as prime minister has coincided with the explosion in social media so that every citizen is now potentially a publisher, and Australians have taken to Twitter and—more especially—Facebook to vent their political views. More than 11 million Australians use Facebook so it has become a potent means of communicating, both laterally to friends and associates, but also universally to audiences that the mainstream media even in its heyday had no hope of reaching. What we have seen over the past three years has been the way in which social media has been used to vilify Gillard, often in ways that are not just sexually based but actually pornographic.11 These sexual slurs have been widely distributed through chain emails as well being Liked and Shared on Facebook but they nevertheless exist in the nether regions of politics and are thus very difficult to counter. Gillard herself made an effort to do so when, during a press conference in mid August 2012, she revealed the campaign against her by ‘misogynists and nutjobs on the Internet’.12 Condemning them was a decisive step towards trying to reduce their effectiveness. She followed a few weeks later with her famous speech attacking the Leader of the Opposition’s ‘sexism and misogyny’.13
That speech changed the conversation; it was especially compelling to women who responded almost viscerally to a female public figure admitting that she was ‘offended’ by the sexist sexual slurs that have been directed at her. It is rare for a woman leader—in business, in politics, anywhere really—to admit she has been treated unfairly or unfavourably. Women fear that they will lose their authority—and thus be unable to do their jobs effectively—if they concede they have suffered sexual harassment or abuse. This reluctance exemplifies the dilemma of women leaders: victimhood is disempowering and thus at odds with the qualities needed to exert authority and thus lead. So women will rarely admit that it has happened to them. For the Prime Minister to do so was a game-changer. But it was not without risks.
There can be little doubt that the sexual vilification of the Prime Minister has had the effect of undermining not just Julia Gillard’s dignity but also her authority. It has also distorted discussions about her overall performance and her competence. Too many critics, including the Opposition, use explicit or implied sexual language when assessing her, which means her defenders are obliged initially to address the form rather than the substance of the criticism. The result is that the sexual slurs dominate the political conversation rather than a gender-neutral assessment of how she is governing.
Julia Gillard had no choice but to confront this ugliness and thereby try to dilute its impact. In doing so, she began what is likely to be a long and arduous process of laying out what authority exercised by a woman looks like. Julia Gillard has done women everywhere a favour but future female political leaders should be especially grateful. She is truly a pioneer. In delineating a model of leadership where acknowledging abuse and discrimination is not automatically disempowering, Julia Gillard is starting to show the way forward. She is explicitly embracing gender. She is acknowledging, both publicly but also with far greater frankness in semi-private gatherings, that being a leader is different if you are a woman. She is constructing a new architecture of female authority, one that acknowledges the inescapable facts of gender while eschewing the notion that these somehow incapacitate her and other female leaders. It is important stuff but it is not easy, especially when the Opposition sneers at her efforts as ‘playing the gender card’.
‘Never, ever, will I attempt to say that as a man I have been the victim of powerful forces beyond my control and how dare any prime minister of Australia play the victim card,’ Tony Abbott said to her in federal parliament last November. Gillard said in response: ‘I think it is actually a manifestation of deep sexism that you would say that if a woman raises her voice then that is her playing the victim as opposed to her standing up for her rights.’14 She is right of course, but Australians are so unaccustomed to hearing a woman leader speak out like this that it is likely to take some time for the electorate to digest what she is saying and to understand what it means. She might run out of time before she can get voters to agree that what she is doing is right and reasonable. At the same time, the Opposition will brandish accusations about using a ‘gender card’ that they cannot define. Nor can they say precisely what is wrong with using it. What is wrong with a woman—any woman—insisting on her right to be treated equally and with respect? Instead, the Opposition leaves an impression that somehow Gillard is not playing by the rules. You could argue that current rules mean that men are playing the gender card to their advantage all the time because the system is built around their needs and preferences; how ironic that when women insist on admission on equal terms they are accused of breaking those rules. Exactly.
In the meantime, as we grope our way towards understanding and perhaps redefining what it means to be a female leader, we can only look on with admiration at the way in which today’s leaders are taking a hit for all women. The persistent gender gap in Australian politics, whereby women favour Gillard in greater numbers than do men, indicates that women tend to recognise this and perhaps paradoxically it has become a source of political advantage.15 Nothing could further underscore the sadomasochism of politics. Or the qualities of fortitude and courage needed to be a woman political leader in Australia today.
- I have included in my calculations only countries that are members of the UN. Thus the following places that currently have women leaders are not counted: the Aland Islands (Finnish external territories), the Cayman Islands, Kosovo, Sint Maarten and Republic of Srpska.
- Australian Capital Territory: Rosemary Follett 1989; 1991–95; Kate Carnell 1995–2000; Katy Gallagher 2011– ; Western Australia: Carmen Lawrence 1990–93; Victoria: Joan Kirner 1990–92; Northern Territory: Clare Martin 2001–07; Queensland: Anna Bligh 2007–12; New South Wales: Kristina Keneally 2009–11; Tasmania: Lara Giddings 2011– .
- See http://www.news.com.au/breaking-news/barren-gillard-unfit-to-be-pm/story-e6frfkp9-1111113448384.
- See http://www.theaustralian.com.au/national-affairs/mark-latham-says-julia-gillard-has-no-empathy-because-shes-childless/story-fn59niix-1226033174177.
- See http://www.news.com.au/national-news/tony-abbott-tells-julia-gillard-to-make-an-honest-woman-of-herself-on-carbon-tax/story-e6frfkvr-1226012034629.
- Jane Goodall, ‘Cracking the dress code. Get rid of those bloody jackets’, Griffith Review no. 40 (Winter 2013) pp. 32–3.
- Charles McPhedran, ‘The women they call “raven mothers” ’, Daily Life, 10 April 2013, http://www.dailylife.com.au/news-and-views/news-features/the-women-they-call-raven-mothers-20130409-2hiik.html (accessed 29 April 2013).
- Julia Gillard sheds crocodile tears for flood victims: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pqgcmG0BAjI.
- Jenny Shipley (1997–99) and Helen Clark (1999–2008).
- Martin Evans, ‘Margaret Thatcher: Opponents launch tirade of abuse on Twitter’, Telegraph, 8 April 2013, http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/politics/margaret-thatcher/9980123/Margaret-Thatcher-Opponents-launch-tirade-of-abuse-on-Twitter.html (accessed 28 April 2013).
- For documentation of this, see my lecture ‘Her Rights at Work: The Political Persecution of Australia’s First Female Prime Minister’, 2012 Human Rights and Social Justice Lecture, University of Newcastle, 31 August 2012, http://annesummers.com.au/speeches/her-rights-at-work-r-rated/.
- Michelle Grattan, ‘Misogynists, nutjobs and falsehoods: PM hits back’, Age, 24 August 2012, http://www.theage.com.au/opinion/political-news/misogynists-nutjobs-and-falsehoods-pm-hits-back-20120823-24p8t.html (accessed 29 April 2013).
- See http://media.smh.com.au/news/national-times/julia-gillards-misogyny–speech-in-full-3701787.html.
- Lenore Taylor, ‘Is Abbott too “sexist” to rule?’, National Times, 30 November 2012, http://www.smh.com.au/opinion/political-news/is-abbott-too-sexist-to-rule-20121130-2ajx4.html (accessed 28 April 2013).
- Haydon Manning, ‘Male and female voters: will there be a “gender gap” in 2013?’, the Conversation, 22 April 2013, http://theconversation.com/male-and-female-voters-will-there-be-a-gender-gap-in-2013-13183?utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Latest+from+The+Conversation+for+22+April+2013&utm_content=Latest+from+The+Conversation+for+22+April+2013+CID_3258807f3febd317156965134055569b&utm_source=campaign_monitor&utm_term=Male%20and%20female%20voters%20will%20there%20be%20a%20gender%20gap%20in%20201.
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