I don’t know what the answer is to this question, which I saw in another forum, but I have thought about it.
I am a heterosexual, white, though a “Latino” (whatever that means), male. Very few women that I know are interested in philosophy or abstract ideas or theory, for that matter, including those who are otherwise very bright and generally well-informed. Philosophy may be the intellectual equivalent of football, for some reason, boring the hell out of most women – though not all.
I wonder why this is so.
The level of philosophical ignorance among my social acquaintances of both genders – who are middle class, successful Manhattanites – is shocking, though I remain discretely silent on the subject.
If people were to display the level of scientific ignorance that they are only too happy to acknowledge when it comes to philosophy, then we might expect to be surrounded by a population happily living in the mental atmosphere of the Middle Ages.
I guess most people, especially women, don’t feel that they need to wonder about such things. Maybe they’re better off. Some of us don’t have too much of a choice. We have the speculative virus and can’t be cured.
It’s kind of like being a writer. I need to write something almost every day. I don’t know why. If I’m working on a book that I won’t see finished for a year or two, then I have to spin out twenty pages on some philosophical chestnut and post it somewhere. The language has to flow.
Perhaps it is similar to the need for a release of sexual tension, which (sad to say) often results in … well, “self-love.” But then, as Oscar Wilde reminds us: “To love oneself is the beginning of a life-long romance.”
But yeah, women and philosophy rarely mix. I wonder whether anyone out there can explain why this is so. Maybe I’m wrong about that. I’d be interested in learning that as well.
Like most intellectually-inclined males, I have always fantasized about the whole “Carmen Electra with a Ph.D.” thing, or even (to borrow a cliche from the movies) the attractive young woman in the bookstore who approaches you and, removing her designer spectacles, says something like … “Pardon me, is that a Nietzsche anthology in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”
It’s the kind of thing that never happens to me.