Clementine Ford versus Abbie Chatfield

The fight where everyone was a loser

Abbie Chatfield had a bit of a shock this month.

The popular podcaster was minding her own business, spruiking vibrators (probably), and taking fairly inoffensive positions on gender issues, when someone lobbed a metaphorical rock at her head.

This isn’t Abbie’s first time in the crosshairs. She made her entrance into the Australian consciousness as runner-up on the reality TV series The Bachelor. Abbie was singularly unpopular in this role. The edit depicted her as a horny temptress, in competition with a woman of purity and virtue. At the show’s conclusion, Abbie - whose greatest strength is savvy marketing - capitalised on the moment. She used her notoriety to talk about how women are presented and perceived in the media. Ultimately, she launched a wildly popular podcast, which continues to make a lot of money. She converted her fifteen minutes into a stable career as an Australian media personality; no mean feat.

Abbie’s politics, her success, and the manner in which she achieved it, combine to make her a divisive figure. But last week’s attack didn’t come from her usual detractors - which is to say, inhabitants of the manosphere, people with conservative values, and right-wing commentators. No, this one was thrown by someone from her own side: Clementine Ford, another left-wing, sex-positive feminist personality.

The stone in question came in the form of a long, meandering Substack article. In her post, Clementine reflected on how white women continue to negotiate with capitalism and the patriarchy, rather than committing to its destruction. They do this, she says, for small scraps of favour and power.

Her ire is largely directed towards the tradwife scene – an oft-criticised corner of the internet, where impossibly thin and beautiful women make elaborate meals for their 900 children and ruggedly handsome husbands. I agree they’re absurd. Where are all the children when the bobble-headed wife mills the grain to make organic Froot Loops, I wonder? Probably eating Twisties in the next room.

Suffice to say, there is nothing particularly jarring in the first 2,600 words of Clementine’s spiel – she wanders down the same goat track trodden by many before her.

But my eyebrows did go up when I came to this: “Capitalism long ago figured out how to co-opt the language of empowerment and sell it back to us (often with the pink tax attached).”

A fair point, maybe. But perhaps Clementine forgot that, in earlier paragraphs, she spruiked her book, a $12 monthly newsletter subscription, and a $4,500, 15-day, all-woman ‘self discovery’ trip to Everest Base Camp. “This is an opportunity for all of our guests to walk deep into the heart of themselves and find out exactly what they’re made of,” the booking page says, definitely not co-opting the language of empowerment for financial gain.

Intrepid offers the same itinerary for just $2,700, by the way (although you won’t get the benefit of Clementine’s company). Perhaps the pink tax is only an occasional problem, depending on who collects the windfall. After all, we all have to negotiate with capitalism at some point. Those power structures sure can be tricky to escape, even for the most enlightened among us.

Then, in the final section of her piece, Clementine takes a more pointed swipe.

“This is why we have Australian influencers like Abbie Chatfield profiting from the performance of being politically engaged and presenting herself as a voice of feminist and political authority, while railing against anyone who demands more from her than shallow aphorisms and platforming genocide supporters. Everyone who criticises her is an idiot. They clearly don’t understand how things work. They have no strategy. They’re being mean to her. They’re jealous of her podcast and her university degree. She’s hotter than them. Everyone who disagrees with her is a troll.”

If you’re wondering what “platforming genocide supporters” means, Clementine’s referencing Prime Minister Anthony Albanese’s appearance on Abbie’s podcast. A man who, I would argue, had a pretty big platform before Abbie interviewed him.

Frankly, this all has the flavour of a highschool dodgeball game, where one kid has decided to forgo the larger goal of winning in order to peg the ball at an unsuspecting teammate against whom they have a personal grudge. It’s bad news for the team, but an entertaining spectacle if you’re watching from the stands.

Abbie, predictably, fought back.

She went on Instagram to say that Clementine was allowed to disagree with her Anthony Albanese interview – she was happy to hear opposing views on that matter. But the attacks had become personal and slanderous.

“She has said to my followers directly, that I think I’m above my followers and my fans… how would she know that? How would she know what I think and what I feel?”

“She’s said that I’m a narcissist. Clementine, I don’t know you. You’re a stranger and you’re obsessed with me.”

“She hates me, and she wants everyone else to hate me as well.”

The monologue, which stretches across two videos, starts out fiery and defiant, but slowly degenerates into tears.

“I just want her to stop,” Abbie weeps. “Also, please, when I post about Palestine, stop using that as a reason to critique me more and say that I’m performative or whatever. Please stop discouraging me from posting about Gaza. It isn’t working, but you’re discouraging others and you’re encouraging trolling of me.”

“Please, I’m just trying to do what I can to help,” she says between enormous sobs.

‘This can’t be healthy for any of us,’ I thought, watching another woman’s complete emotional collapse unfold in the palm of my hand.

The next day, however, it was back to regular programming. There were vibrators to sell.

‘“Get 50% off Normal Toys. Code: VoteCumPass,’ she posted on her Instagram stories, riffing on the ABC’s Vote Compass.

Another clumsy negotiation with capitalism. Brand deals and their deadlines wait for no woman.

The drama died down as quickly as it flared. Clementine posted one more veiled swipe at Abbie, Abbie briefly talked about the fight on her podcast. No doubt both have benefited from the publicity the spat generated.

The world marched on. The opposition chose a new leader, Albanese revealed his Cabinet. Abbie hawked cheap orgasms, Clementine her book, and her all-female self-discovery trek.

Meanwhile, more than 14,000 km away, bombs continued to drop on Gaza.

Could things have been different? What if Abbie hadn’t had Prime Minister Anthony Albanese on her podcast? Might her quiet disapproval of Australia’s inaction helped broker a peace deal?

Or is it the other way around? Is Clementine to blame for discouraging people from posting pro-Palestine content on their Instagram pages? Maybe that little extra push was all Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu needed for some serious self-reflection.

I suppose we’ll never know.

Perhaps one day everyone will be able to agree on the exact social media plan that will fix this planet, while also attracting lucrative brands deals. But until then, it would be nice if we could show each other a bit more grace. We are all imperfect people, with imperfect politics, navigating an imperfect system as best we’re able.