The effect of negative campaigning on voter turnout has been a major focus of research in recent years. The general finding from this large literature is that negative campaigning does not depress voter turnout overall; however, it may still be that certain portions of the electorate are differentially mobilized or demobilized by negativity. In particular, scholars have neglected to examine whether men and women react differently to campaign attacks. This article begins by showing that evidence drawn from a variety of relevant fields outside of political science point toward the general expectation that men will be mobilized by negativity to a greater degree than women. Associated hypotheses are then tested using data from both real campaigns and experiments. In each analysis, the evidence supports the hypothesis that a “negativity gap” exists. Specifically, men are disproportionately mobilized by the most negative campaign messages as compared to women. Partisanship is also found to interact significantly with gender and message tone to affect the likelihood of voting. These results highlight the importance of studying subgroup differences when establishing the effects of campaign tone on the public.

This article argues that systematic rape should be conceptualized not only as a war crime, but also as a destructive and increasingly deployed war weapon. As such, rape becomes a subject of arms control and thus directly relevant to security studies. Consequently, I argue that international relations should consider rape as a weapon of war for two major reasons. First, the categorization of rape as a weapon of war fits with core disciplinary theoretical definitions and assumptions. Namely, rape as a weapon of war compromises state security, operates in a conception of power defined as material/“power-over”/zero-sum, and corresponds with a rational actor model. Second, although wartime rape has often been marginalized as a “women's issue,” empirical evidence persuasively demonstrates how this categorization is incomplete; rather, women, girls, men, and boys all suffer direct and/or indirect consequences from the increasing prevalence and brutality of this weapon's deployment. Overall, the article maintains that excluding rape from security studies precludes comprehensive, accurate analysis within areas of theoretical and practical concern to IR. Thus, I conclude by suggesting avenues of research, from diverse theoretical perspectives, that may persuade IR scholars to view rape as an increasingly relevant and analytically rich topic of study.

In this article, I explore the political consequences of being a parent for men and women seeking political office. Although a long-standing body of research has concluded that family obligations constrain the political careers of women but not of men, almost no research examines how family status can affect voter evaluations of political candidates. Using an experiment in which I varied the candidate's gender and parental status, I find that on a number of indicators, voters rate childless female candidates substantially lower than childless male candidates, mother candidates, and father candidates. Childless women also lose the traditional “female advantage” on child-care and children's issues. Additionally, while mothers of young children are not significantly disadvantaged compared to mothers of older children and women with no children, they are disadvantaged in comparison to male candidates with young children. Furthermore, this study finds evidence that male candidates may receive a “fatherhood penalty” compared to men with no children. Thus, there are political consequences of being a parent, but the consequences are dependent on the candidate's gender. These findings have important implications for candidate campaign strategy and how female candidates should think about presenting their family lives to voters.

From Dwight Eisenhower to John McCain, presidential candidates have appealed to female voters by highlighting motherhood in their campaigns. The most recent example of this has been the “hockey mom” trope introduced by the first hockey mom to earn a slot on the GOP presidential ticket, Governor Sarah Palin. These appeals, while motivated by political gamesmanship, imply that mothers see the political world a bit differently from other women. They suggest that women with children have different political priorities and concerns and, at times, different positions on political issues. This article takes this proposition seriously, and asks the question: Does becoming a mother have a transformative effect on women's political attitudes? Using longitudinal data from the four-wave 1965–97 Political Socialization Panel Study, I track the movement of women's political attitudes on partisan identification, ideological identification, and policy issues. I find that the effects of motherhood on women's political attitudes, while not uniform in nature, do push some women to adopt more conservative political attitudes. Thus, these results suggest that while motherhood does not transform women's political attitudes, for some women motherhood does promote interesting attitudinal shifts.

I began to write this essay as confirmation hearings opened for President Barack Obama's nominee for the U.S. Supreme Court, Judge Sonia Sotomayor, and long before he nominated Elena Kagan. The nominations have made the gender and ethnic identities of judges and senators alike salient. In their opening statements, senators burst with pride about a great country where anyone can achieve anything, regardless of gender, class, or ethnicity, while some equated empathy with prejudice and difference with partiality. In a New York Times Magazine interview the Sunday before, Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg stressed the importance of more women on the bench (Bazelon 2009). Opponents' carefully orchestrated media attacks against Sotomayor, arguing that she lacked judicial temperament (too mean) and was racist, came straight from the misogynist playbook well thumbed from Hillary Clinton's presidential campaign. I share Nancy Maveety's disappointment that the hearings squelched, rather than explored, the questions of what Martha Minow (1987) has so aptly named “the dilemma of difference”—how women can be both equal to and different from men—and the nature of judging, which has to do with how one's social location and life experiences inevitably shape judgment. The dullness of the actual hearings stood in sharp contrast to the euphoria in the Latino community where many sported the latest fashion: “Wise Latina Woman” T-shirts, dispelling any doubt about the symbolic importance of such appointments.

“The word I would use to describe my position on the bench is lonely.” So said Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg in 2007, when asked to comment on her position on the U.S. Supreme Court after the resignation of Justice Sandra Day O'Connor. After a year as the Court's only woman, Ginsburg had begun to feel the solitude that comes from judging alone, being the Court's only descriptive and often symbolic representative of women's interests. Ginsburg's position was not, sadly, as rare as we might hope in industrialized democracies. Although some countries, such as Canada, have had near majorities of women on their respective high courts, other countries, such as the United Kingdom, continue to have only one woman on their national tribunals.

Sally Kenney's essay reminds us of the range and the limitations of our scholarship on gender and judging. At one point in her discussion, after reviewing the views of Justices Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Sandra Day O'Connor discounting the role of gender in their own decision making, Kenney says this:

Although most states select their judges via merit selection or an appointive process, a number of states choose their trial and appellate judges on the basis of contested elections. Currently, approximately one-half of all state judges reach their state court benches by winning partisan or nonpartisan races. In the 21 states that elect their judges, women with judicial aspirations must be as competitive as men in these elections. Specifically, they must finance increasingly expensive judicial campaigns, garner widespread support from influential political elites, and, most importantly, convince voters that they are as capable as men. Do aspiring women judges experience similar barriers or challenges as women running for legislative or executive office?

The appointment of Sonia Sotomayor and the nomination of Elena Kagan to the United States Supreme Court provides a timely opportunity for scholars, policymakers, and members of the legal community to consider why there are so few women on the world's highest courts. Although singular moments draw our attention to the importance of women on high courts, sadly, this attention is rarely sustained over long periods. While much was made of Ronald Reagan's historic nomination of Sandra Day O'Connor to serve as the first female justice of the U.S. Supreme Court, more than a decade and four nomination opportunities passed by before Ruth Bader Ginsburg was appointed. On this point, Paula Monopoli aptly observes: “[T]he assumption that progress would steadily continue until gender parity was achieved has proven to be wrong” (2007, 43). Unfortunately, this same observation could be said of virtually all other high courts across the globe.

Imagine this: a court presided over by a majority of women judges—many of whom are from racially marginalized backgrounds—and which has a “constitution” that has gender justice at its core. Incredibly, given what we know about gender and judging cross-nationally, this is not some utopian vision but the current reality at the International Criminal Court (ICC). As of May 2010, the 18 member ICC bench consisted of 11 women judges, most of whom were from outside the West and many of whom have expertise in gender-based violence. This development raises a range of important questions, two of which I want to speculate on in the following discussion: How is it that the sex profile of the ICC bench differs so dramatically from domestic-level courts? What difference might this profile make to the transformation of international law in terms of expanding gender justice principles?