From the 1970 decision of Corbett onwards, legal narratives established two modes of categorising complex social identity in relation to sex and gender. These narratives responded to complex identity questions by attempting to simplify identity by limiting it to biological factors or anatomical and psychological factors.

I demonstrate that the law's struggle to ‘make’ sex is reflected to a certain extent by feminism's trajectory, in that feminisms have also attempted to grapple with these complex questions, and often opted for the same simple solutions to the problem of understanding gender, sex and identity. The aim of this paper is to show that some strands of feminist theory, specifically post-structuralist feminist theory, can produce a more progressive and constructive approach to determining sex in their ability to illuminate the complexities of identity. In particular, my aim is to urge those courts that ‘make’ sex to consider these complexities and the implications that flow from placing transgender people into rigid and narrow categories.

The general theme of this lecture was prompted by Ruth Bader Ginsburg, the second woman in the United States Supreme Court. To celebrate my appointment she sent me a fascinating book, Supreme Court Decisions and the Rights of Women. This set me thinking about what a similar book on House of Lords Decisions and the Rights of Women might have to say. My first thought was ‘not a lot, surely’. The two courts are very different. The Supreme Court is a constitutional court under a constitution which guarantees the equal protection of the laws. The appellate committee of the House of Lords is not a constitutional court, although the Human Rights Act 1998 has made it look a little more like one. The judicial committee of the Privy Council, however, has in practice the same composition as the House of Lords.

The story of the woman judge as one of exclusion and isolation plagued with allegations of bias is well documented. Interestingly, despite significant differences in time and place, a common theme unites these tales: the woman judge is a dangerous outsider, a threat to the aesthetic norm. The judicial climate, at least in most of the common law world, is somewhat chilly: reactions to her presence on the bench vary from the largely indifferent to the downright hostile. Why is this? After all, most people, perhaps acknowledging the political and democratic gains underlying calls for a more representative judiciary, would wish to encourage – or at least not discourage – judicial diversity.

Taking the stories of the woman judge as its starting point, this paper contends that underlying these tales is an image of the judge that is as much intuitive as it is reasoned; that our understanding of the judge and judging is as much derived from the imagination as from what is conventionally considered as rational thought. Thus, the paper deploys the narrative strategies of fairy tales in an attempt to disrupt the imaginative hold of familiar yet particular images that infuse and distort current discourses on adjudication. It suggests that despite the Department for Constitutional Affairs’ ongoing quest to increase diversity within the judiciary, current initiatives do not confront fully these instinctive images. As a result, their narrative of inclusiveness and difference fails. In response, the paper appeals to the imagination as a route toward engendering new conceptions on the judge and judging, the possibility of truly diverse judiciaries and, perhaps, a fairy tale ending to the woman judge’s story.

This paper explores understandings of harm in law through the application of a feminist perspective. Drawing on the idea of harm as a social construct, the paper considers the role of law in shaping perceptions of when a harm has occurred and whether it should be redressed. These themes are illustrated by means of a close legal and contextual analysis of the House of Lords decision in Waters v Metropolitan Police Commissioner, in which a woman was allegedly bullied at work for reporting she had been raped by a fellow officer. The paper raises questions about why this particular claimant had difficulty establishing that she had suffered harm, despite alleging 89 separate hostile acts by fellow officers, and even though the courts who heard her claim assumed for the purposes of legal argument that the facts alleged were true. It is argued that the narrowness of the approach adopted by most of the judges who heard Ms Waters' claim precluded recognition of the seriousness of the allegations and the social, political, and legal need to provide redress.

This paper contends that a feminist legal curriculum is necessary for legal education, and that it is also necessary for feminism. It argues that feminism is more than simply one of a number of useful critical perspectives, and that it must be located centrally within the law school and the legal curriculum in order to be effective. In accepting that a black-letter training has many merits and that the current core curriculum has value, the paper nevertheless suggests that both require substantive modifications and new critical dimensions. Specifically, to meet its obligations to our students, the legal curriculum needs to incorporate subjects relevant to women's experience, to make space for women's viewpoints and to offer feminist perspectives in every area of law - and these must be compulsory, not optional, additions. Finally, the paper concludes that implementation of such a curriculum is not only desirable, but also possible, and may indeed become a policy imperative as well as a feminist one.

This article considers the use of comparison in establishing multi-ground claims of intersectional discrimination. Leading examples of test cases from the US and the UK exemplify the challenges in using comparison to establish discrimination against Black women, based on the grounds of both race and sex. These challenges include: the insistence on using a single mirror comparator (viz white men) or the difficulties in choosing multiple comparators from a range of options (viz white women, Asian women, Black men, white men etc); the missing rationale for the selection; and the unwieldiness in actually appreciating the nature of intersectional discrimination based on this exercise. To overcome these, Canadian courts have relaxed the strict requirement of necessarily resorting to comparison for proving discrimination and switched to the flexible approach. However, in practice, flexible approach appears as fastidious as strict comparison in its selection and use of comparators. Thus, neither of the two approaches has been too helpful in supporting intersectional claims. The article argues that instead, a useful way of proving intersectional discrimination is to follow the South African approach of making comparisons contextually: (i) between all relevant comparators, identified in reference to one, some, and all of the grounds or personal characteristics; and (ii) sifting through comparative evidence with the purpose of establishing similar and different patterns of group disadvantage which characterise the nature of intersectional discrimination. This approach brings both principle and purpose to employing comparison and can be especially useful in appreciating intersectional discrimination as based on multiple grounds.

In 1994, feminist activists made headlines at the United Nations Cairo Conference on Population and Development for their highly organised and influential lobbying. The final agreement negotiated at Cairo reflected this involvement by specifically referring to women's reproductive rights, and by recognising the complex relationship between population policy, environmental security and economic growth. International population policy, defined broadly as the array of international projects and actors involved in efforts to curb population growth, is an increasingly important arena for the contestation of social values and the meaning of global community. In this paper, I offer a re-reading of the 1994 Cairo agreement, and population policy more generally, in the context of colonial discourses around race and gender, which articulate with constructions of the population ‘problem’. Focusing on the language of environment and economic growth, I examine how racialised conceptions of ‘dangerous’ fertility are reinforced rather than challenged by the Cairo agreement. Through this analysis, I attempt to first, make explicit the international inequality that structures international law and policy, and secondly, outline some of the challenges facing feminist engagement with international law.

This paper presents the findings from the first qualitative study to consider the relationship between intersex experience and law, representing a significant contribution to a currently under-researched area of law. Since 2013 there has been a global move towards the legal recognition of intersex, with Australia, Germany and Malta all using different techniques to construct and regulate intersex embodiment. This paper is the first to compare and problematise these differing legal approaches in the legal literature. In doing so it demonstrates that many of these approaches are grounded in ideas of formal equality that lead to the entrenchment of vulnerability and fail to build resilience for the intersex community. Through engagement with the intersex community a more contextual account of substantive equality is enabled, encouraging new approaches to law and social justice. Our qualitative study revealed that prevention of non-therapeutic medical interventions on the bodies of children was understood to be the key method to achieving equality for intersex embodied people. Whilst this is the cornerstone of intersex-led legislative reform, such an approach necessitates support through a mixture of formal and substantive equality methods such as anti-discrimination law, education and enforcement procedures. This paper concludes by offering a series of recommendations to legislators capable of enabling substantive intersex equality.

This paper reconsiders images of the judge and, in particular, the position of the woman judge using fairy tale and myth. It begins by exploring the actuality of women's exclusion within the judiciary, traditional explanations for this and the impact of recent changes. It goes on to consider the image of the Herculean judge, arguing that whilst we may view him as an ideological construct, or even as a fairy tale, we routinely deny this to ourselves and to others. This both ensures the normative survival of Hercules and simultaneously constrains counter-images of judges, including that of the woman judge, who becomes almost a contradiction in terms, faced with the need to shed her difference and fit the fairy tale. Like the little mermaid, the woman judge must trade her voice for partial acceptance in the prince's world.

This image of silencing which Andersen's tale so vividly captures highlights a paradox in current discourses of adjudication. On the one hand, women judges are viewed as desirable in order to broaden the range of perspectives on the bench, thus making the judiciary more representative; on the other hand, judges are supposed to be without perspective, thus suggesting there is little need for a representative judiciary. Feminists and other commentators negotiate their way uncomfortably through this territory, acknowledging a gender dimension to adjudication, but failing fully to confront its implications. This paper seeks to ‘undress’ the judge, to flush out images of adjudication which deter or prevent women from joining the judiciary and constrain their potential within it. It highlights both the role of the imagination in existing conceptions of adjudication and the increasing necessity for a re-imagined Hercules – an alternative understanding of the judge which women and other groups currently underrepresented on the bench can comfortably and constructively occupy.

To be recognised as a legal person is to be individualised: it is to be rendered a separate and distinct being, the unitary bearer of rights and duties. By contrast, to be assigned a legal sex is to be grouped with others, to be placed within one of only two sexes, as either a man or a woman, a necessarily crude dichotomy. It is to be legally defined by the characteristics we are said to share with half the human population rather than regarded as an individual in our own right. This paper entails a critical comparative analysis of the legal concept of person and the legal concept of sex: of maleness or femaleness. It questions the logic and defensibility of this double characterisation of our legal lives. How can law reconcile its deep commitment to individualism with its persisting commitment to a two-sex system?