In the short time I spent at a Detroit automotive advertising agency, I became acutely aware of how men’s ideas of women’s automotive interest overruled any consideration of what women actually desired in a car. The women who worked in automotive advertising, as well as the women who were the target of automotive advertisers, were routinely considered lacking in automotive knowledge, unfamiliar with the driving experience, and subject to the influence of male automotive “experts.” It was assumed that the female consumer would buy the vehicles the male-dominated auto industry deemed suitable for the woman driver, and it was believed that the woman in the creative process would rely on male-directed research rather than her own car experience. George Green, a retired advertising executive who worked on the General Motors account, admits that automakers routinely “denigrated the female market,” and made little effort to learn about the woman car buyer (qtd. in Gerl & Davis 210).
Admittedly, the notion that the auto industry was complicit in the intentional disregard of women’s automotive interest was based on my own agency experience rather than any established research. While automobile advertising has been analyzed as a text – i.e. what it symbolizes, what it means, what it says about the woman driver – how that advertising came to be had never, to my knowledge, been addressed in scholarship. Until now.
In Pink Cars and Pocketbooks, historian Jessica Brockmole uncovers the multiple market studies focused on the female consumer that were overlooked and under-appreciated by the automotive industry for nearly half a century. Through her investigation into decades of advertising archives, trade journals, women’s magazines, and newspapers, Brockmole chronicles how women, dissatisfied and discouraged with how they had been repeatedly misrepresented by automotive marketers and decision makers, took it upon themselves to become more informed, experienced, and knowledgeable about cars. She relates how through the formation of women-centered car clubs, driving handbooks, and do-it-yourself repair manuals, these women ‘bought their way’ into the masculine car culture and became empowered consumers and drivers. As the author declares, because of the unwavering efforts of a determined group of female consumers, “[women] no longer have to rely on the auto industry to decide what and how much they can know about cars. They no longer have to accept how the auto industry limits their relationship with cars or defines who and what a ‘woman driver’ is” (205).
Pink Cars and Pocketbooks offers an unusual, resourceful, and never-before-told history of women’s relationship with cars. In this painstakingly researched and engagingly written work of historical scholarship, Brockmole uncovers how savvy female consumers, through the sharing of automotive knowledge, challenged gender prescriptions and took control of their own automotive futures.
If you’ve ever wondered how automakers so utterly misread women with the introduction of the Dodge La Femme, I heartily encourage you to read this book!
Brockmole, Jessica A. Pink Cars and Pocketbooks: How American Women Bought Their Way into the Driver’s Seat. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2025.
Gerl, Ellen J. and Craig L. Davis. “Selling Detroit on Women: ‘Woman’s Day’ and Auto Advertising, 1964-82.” Journalism History 38.4 (2013): 209-220.
Shortly after the presidential election, Andy Kalmowitz of Jalopnik argued that Gen Z bros have been ‘sucked into’ an ideology in which proving manliness is paramount to their collective identity. They accomplish this, writes Kalmowitz, through the use of demeaning language, as well as through the accumulation of material goods that ‘project a machismo aesthetic to everyone around them.’ One of the more telling ways this is accomplished, he contends, is through the acquisition of a very large truck or SUV. While such a purchase is intended to confirm ones masculinity, as Kalmowitz notes, ‘it just lets everyone know you’re not secure in your manhood.’ Kalmowitz’s solution is to get your massive male body behind the wheel of a minivan. While driving a monstrous pickup or SUV might suggest one swings a certain way politically, a minivan simply marks a man as someone who ‘values practicality and usability,’ and ‘who doesn’t mind taking the kids to school or soccer practice.’ In short, a man who owns a minivan is one who is comfortable in his masculinity and doesn’t need to advertise it through the vehicle he drives.
1985 Plymouth Voyager
This is a rather unique and courageous position to take. Since women first expressed interest in automobility auto manufacturers and marketers have determinedly directed the female motorist toward the practical ‘family’ vehicle. While men are often encouraged to purchase automobiles that reflect power and performance, women are expected to drive a safe, reliable, and functional automobile that reinforces the gender-appropriate roles of wife and mother. The gendering of the automotive experience was instigated soon after the introduction of the gasoline-powered automobile in the early twentieth century as a solution to the growing problem of women’s automobility in American society. Fearful the increased power and range of the gasoline-powered automobile would encourage women to drive faster and further – and away from domestic responsibilities – the slow and sedate electric vehicle with limited range was positioned as eminently more suitable for the woman driver. After the Second World War, automakers continued to rely upon the cultural assumption that women’s ‘unchanging biological natures’ resulted in a gender-wide preference for sensible, sound, and dependable cars perfectly suited for the transportation of kids and cargo (Scharff 116). In 1983, Lee Iococca introduced the Plymouth Voyager; its tremendous success firmly associated the the minivan with motherhood. As Cindy Donatelli argues, the timing of the minivan introduction coincided with Ronald Reagan’s ‘family values’ campaign, often considered a backlash against the second-wave feminist visions of the 1960s and 1970s. As a ‘lifestyle enabler,’ the minivan, purposefully and aggressively identified with women by automakers, marketers, and the media, reinforced the notion that women bear primary responsibility for housework and childcare.
1990 Dodge Caravan advertisement
Automakers have occasionally attempted to sever the longstanding and stubborn connection between the minivan and motherhood. In 2017, Chrysler called upon comedian Jim Gaffigan to promote the Pacifica as a vehicle for cool, considerate, and caring dads, leveraging Gaffigan’s real life persona as a father of five. Driving a Pacifica, exclaims Gaffigan, is ‘good for my dad brand.’ However, in 2021, comedian Kathryn Hahn was behind the wheel as a ‘soccer mom’; in 2024, advertising targets the ‘Boy Mom’ and ‘Dog Mom’ as potential Pacifica consumers. While women are making the shift to small SUVs [61% of small SUV owners are women], it appears that Chrysler has reverted to longstanding, stereotypical tropes to hopefully rekindle women’s interest in the once ubiquitous family hauler.
Jim Gaffigan Chrysler Pacifica commercial
As an auto writer, Kalmowitz is no doubt aware of the female shift to small SUVs, and is thus taking the opportunity to reclaim the minivan as a man’s vehicle. Kalmowitz admits that Chrysler lent him a Pacifica Hybrid Pinnacle with a full battery and gas tank ‘to do with as I pleased for a week.’ However, the tone of his review suggests he was both surprised and delighted by the vehicle’s utilitarian qualities, as well as its ability to transport him and five of his closest buddies ‘with all of their luggage for a weekend away from the city.’ Yet what is most important to Kalmowitz is that the minivan serves many of the same important functions as a ‘anti-social massive pickup truck or SUV’ without its adverse political connotations.
2024 Chrysler Pacifica Hybrid
In 1992, urban planning scholar Martin Wachs wrote, ‘despite the universal appeal and use of the automobile, it remains one of the most ‘gendered’ aspects of American urban life’ (86). Such engrained historical and cultural automotive associations – men and pickups, women and minivans – are difficult to dismantle. Kalmowitz is to be commended for his efforts to not only challenge such stereotypes, but as an auto writer and influencer, to promote a ‘minivan’ masculinity that promotes community, environmental awareness, good times, and fatherhood.
Donatelli, Cindy. “Driving the Suburbs: Minivans, Gender, and Family Values.” Material History Review 54 (2001): 84-95.
Kalmowitz, Andy. “Minivans and the Myth of Manliness”. Jalopnik.com 28 Nov 2024.
Scharff, Virginia. Taking the Wheel: Women and the Coming of the Motor Age. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1991.
Wachs, Martin. “Men, Women, and Urban Travel: The Persistence of Separate Spheres.” The Car and the City: The Automobile, the Built Environment, and Daily Urban Life. Martin Wachs and Margaret Crawford, eds. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1992. 86-103.
The Super Bowl, as argued by scholars and pundits alike, has long been considered an idealized representation of American masculinity. Since the first Super Bowl contest of 1969, football fans across the US have gathered around TV sets to join in a celebration of men engaged what has been described as “professional warfare” on the playing field. As noted by gender scholar Jan Huebenthal in 2013, as the ultimate football contest, the Super Bowl “celebrates physical violence committed by hypermasculine players against their opponents” (6). Not only is masculinity on stage in the game itself, argues Huebenthal, but is reinforced in the commercials that fill in the gaps in Super Bowl coverage.
1969 Goodyear ad
From its very beginning, the gas-powered automobile was constructed as masculine. As Michael Berger writes, “everything about the car seemed masculine, from the coordination and strength required to operate it, to the dirt and grease connected with its maintenance” (257). This association has been reflected in the types of cars historically marketed to male drivers, as well as the “natural” driving behaviors attributed to the man behind the wheel. Vehicles with descriptors such as powerful, rugged, durable, and tough were considered appropriate choices for men. And, as Clay McShane argues, in order to establish automobility as a male activity, men quickly claimed the emotional traits necessary for driving – “steady nerves, aggression, and rationality” – as masculine (156). The construction of the automobile as a symbol of masculinity has, not surprisingly, been reflected in car advertising over the past few decades.
The early Super Bowl telecasts featured commercials from automobile advertisers who, as Smithsonian journalist Jackie Mansky notes, were “playing for the men in the room.” The 1970 contest featured a spot for the Pontiac GTO – long considered the ultimate muscle car. In 1975, a teenager’s souped up Plymouth Barracuda – the first pony car – was called upon to appeal to the young male market. Fandom scholar Danielle Sarver Coombs argues that as the Super Bowl reflected the culture of the time, so did its ads. “For a hyper masculine sport like football,” Coombs explains, “hyper masculine-focused advertising followed in turn.” And as she pointed out, football commercials “continue to cater to the male market despite a documented shift in the demographic tuning in” (qtd. in Mansky).
Kia EV9: “Perfect 10”
The car commercials that aired at the 2024 Super Bowl – although still directed primarily to the male audience – were decidedly less “macho” and testosterone-driven than many from the past. Auto commercials from the early years were often offensive to women; as Mansky recalls, a 1969 commercial for Goodyear Tire featured a woman in distress with the tagline, “when there’s no man around, Goodyear should be.” However, the car ads that aired during Super Bowl LVIII, although not directly directed toward female viewers, displayed a more twenty-first century sensibility. The commercials presented men both sensitively and humorously; they addressed automobiles through a nostalgic and cultural rather than gendered lens.
Toyota Tacoma: “Dareful Handle”
The Kia commercial featured a dad who drives his ice-skating daughter through perilous weather conditions to perform for her grandpa in a backyard pond; Volkswagen connected moments in cultural history – including a nod to the rulings extending gay marriage rights – to combine, as Ted Nudd of Ad Age notes, a “sweeping legacy statement with a product tease in an uplifting way.” Even ads that that relied on longstanding male troupes poked fun at male driving behavior. The commercial featuring the Toyota Tacoma pickup calls upon humor to demonstrate the vehicle’s role as an off-road adventure machine, focusing on the passenger side grab bar – referred to as the “shut the front door” or “whoa whoa whoa” handle. As Hagerty’s Peek and Petroelje write, “as the camera jumps from one frightened passenger to the next, we’re shown an orange Tacoma kickin’ up dust while doing donuts and other herky-jerky maneuvers at high speed.” The spot created for the Kawasaki Ridge ties the farcical mullet hairstyle – “business in the front, party in the back,” to the powerful front engine and rear towing ability of the of the sport side-by-side. This change in advertising attitude could certainly be attributed to the increase in female watchers; while driven somewhat by the “Taylor Swift effect,” girls and women accounted for 47.5% of the Super Bowl audience (Crupi). But it also suggests that automakers recognized that women would be watching, and geared their commercials to be funny or heart-warming and appealing to all rather than just the male audience.
Kawasaki Ridge: “Mullets”
As someone who has a passing interest in football but considerable enthusiasm for cars and commercials, I found this year’s Super Bowl automotive advertising offerings to be imaginative, entertaining, and surprisingly accessible to an expanded audience. Thank you Taylor Swift, and to the automotive advertisers who recognized that women like cars, too.
Berger, Michael. “Women Drivers!: The Emergence of Folklore and Stereotypic Opinions Concerning Feminine Automotive Behavior.” Women’s Studies International Forum 9.3 (1986): 257-263.
Crupi, Anthony. “Taylor Swift Effect Kicks in for Super Bowl as Female Demos Soar.” Sportico.com 16 Feb 2024.
Huebenthal, Jan. “Quick! Do Something Manly!”: The Super Bowl as an American Spectacle of Hegemonic Masculinity, Violence, and Nationalism.” W & M Scholar Works, 2013.
Mansky, Jackie. “What the Earliest Super Bowl Commercials Tell Us About the Super Bowl.” Smithsonianmag.com 31 Jan 2019.
McShane, Clay. Down the Asphalt Path: The Automobile and the American City. New York: Columbia University Press, 1994.
Peek, Jake & Nathan Petroelge. “2024 Super Bowl Car Ads: Touchdowns, Field Goals, and Penalties.” Hagerty.com 12 Feb 2024.
Rudd, Tim. “Super Bowl 2024 Ad Review – The Best and the Worst.” AdAge.com 11 Feb 2024.
The Auburn Cord Duesenberg Museum is located in Auburn, Indiana, in the building of the automobile manufacturer’s former executive and general offices, engineering and experimental design departments, design studios, and showroom. It retains much of the look of its past occupants; the first floor showroom is spacious and opulent, with high ceilings, chandeliers, art deco columns, and an elegant center stairway, with popular music from the 1920s filling the grand space. The second and third floors include automotive displays intermingled among intact conference rooms and private offices of past automotive leaders and entrepreneurs. The narrow hallways are filled with archival items including old photographs, period advertising, and colored design renderings.
Poster for the annual Auburn Car Festival which celebrated the anniversary of women’s suffrage
The three prominent automotive brands housed in the museum – Auburn, Cord, and Duesenberg – were high-priced luxury and racing vehicles produced between 1900 to 1937. Auburn was wholly owned by the Cord Corporation; entrepreneur E.L. Cord acquired Duesenberg in 1926 to add to his stable of stylish and expensive cars. The Depression, and the economic downturn that followed, saw an inevitable sales decline for the Cord empire. The company was sold and dissolved in 1937.
Other vehicles on display in the museum include ‘The Cars of Indiana,’ rare and unusual vehicles no longer in production once manufactured in the Hoosier state, as well as a gallery of racers and record-setters. Exhibits on the second and third floors include advertising campaigns, the work of design studios, blueprint rooms, as well as engines and technological innovations of the day.
One of the many advertisements featuring women on display
As might be expected in a museum seeped in automotive history, regional identity, and the accomplishments of exceptional men, women’s presence within its celebrated walls is subtle at best. However, because of the nature of the Auburn – Cord – Duesenberg product, female representation was, in fact, an important component of the automotive brand. This is evident in the promotional materials that adorn the walls of the building’s second floor. As one of the accompanying placards notes, ‘Auburn ads frequently featured glamourous female models situated in lavish settings.’ The models were called upon to reflect class, elegance, and style, as well as to suggest that owning such a vehicle would infer such qualities on the individual who drove it. As another card conveyed, ‘these ads were notable because they featured a lifestyle and not the product.’ The presence of female models in these advertisements suggest the stylish women were more successful in eluding elegance and class than the cars themselves. Photographs hung throughout the museum – with unnamed women as passengers – also serve to associate the automobile with a certain upscale and desirable lifestyle.
Woman as Goddess on the hood of a Duesenberg
Women also graced automotive exteriors in the form of hood ornaments. These sleek, elongated, goddess representations in steel also lent credence to the Duesenberg or Auburn as luxurious vehicles for the upper class.
Within the lineup of cars on display, women as well as notable events involving women are called upon to place a vehicle within a specific time and place in history. Referring to Amelia Earhart [an automobile aficionado] or women’s suffrage alongside an automobile of that era offers an opportunity to imagine how or why an automobile might be used. Women’s stories – anecdotes of an event or driving experience – are also integrated into the histories of particular automobiles. Women referred to by name as donors were often keepers of cars – maintaining the automobile after the death of a father or spouse before donating it to the museum archives. These women serve as touchstones within the cluster of vehicles, often providing a human element to the business of cars.
High society woman and the new 1935 Cord 810
This was not my first visit to the ACD Museum. I stopped in decades ago while in the area for a dog show [which is a whole other conversation]. More recently, I traveled to Auburn for SAH [Society of Automotive Historians] business. But this encounter provided me with the opportunity to search out women’s presence in what I suspect exists for most as a very masculine space. As I discovered in the ACD as well as most of the automotive museums I’ve spent time in, women are visible if only you look for them.
A recent posting on Curbside Classic featured a 1988 Suzuki Samurai advertisement with the quizzical headline: ‘What Young Urban Women Aspired to in 1988?’ The ad features a 30-something woman behind the wheel of the aforementioned vehicle accompanied by a female companion. The women are looking happily out of their respective windows while driving down a charming urban thoroughfare. Without much copy to ponder, the posting was open to comments from interested CC readers. What is interesting in the responses is how often the readers’ experiences support the unspoken premise of the ad. As one responder noted, ‘my mom had one of these. […] there was something about that vehicle that truly appealed to her. Part of it was the size. After 16 years of pretty much exclusively driving the fuselage Chrysler wagon, I think getting back into something small really had its appeal to her.’ Another remarked, ‘I couldn’t understand why she wanted a car that didn’t have a real back seat, which made doing things like picking me up at the airport or carrying anything substantial pretty much out of the question. Now I think maybe that was the whole point for her.’
In order to understand the significance of this advertisement, and the comments it generated, it helps to revisit the automotive advertising to women that preceded it. After World War II, when women were expected to leave their wartime factory jobs to create comfortable lives for husbands in the suburbs, marketing to the female consumer was focused primarily on suitable ‘family’ vehicles. In the 1950s and early 1960s, this mode of transportation was the station wagon. Advertising for these automobiles often featured idyllic scenes of mother and [many] children engaging in dad-less family activities around the car, as well as busy mothers with growing families for whom roominess in a vehicle was an obvious necessity.
In the 1960s and early 70s, the station wagon was replaced by the hatchback, which was, as one advertiser claimed, ‘the car designed around a shopping bag.’ In the mid 1980s the world was introduced to the minivan, which as the perfect vehicle for carrying kids and cargo, was unofficially dubbed the ‘soccer mom’ car. Minivan advertising featured moms with kids and groceries and bikes and sporting equipment, all which reinforced the association of family vehicles with the woman behind the wheel.
Yet before the minivan morphed into the ubiquitous SUV, a few automotive advertisers – primarily of import vehicles – suggested [gasp!] that the female consumer could be someone other than a mom. The late 1980s/early 90s Subaru campaign reflected this sentiment. As the commenters noted, the Samurai lacked a back seat, which meant there was no room for kids. And its sporty appearance suggested the possibility of adventure outside of playdates, t-ball games, and the banality of suburban neighborhoods. While the women pictured in family car advertising appear content, those in the Suzuki campaign seem downright ecstatic. Other ads in the campaign emphasize the vehicle’s ‘fun-ness’ and remark on its multiple identities as sporty, outdoorsy, and rugged. As the polar opposite of the ‘mom’ car, Suzuki advertising promised an exciting, adventurous, and well-deserved getaway for married and single women alike. Noted a Curbside Classic commenter, ‘I had a female co-worker who had a Samurai – it served as both her nice day-in-the-summer and her winter weather car. Interesting little fleet for a woman in her 20s.’
I’ve been writing about the relationship between women in cars since first discovering the topic in graduate school nearly 15 years ago. Since that time I’ve addressed the woman-car connection in a variety of contexts. Some of my work focuses on women who participate in car cultures associated with the male driver, including muscle cars, pickup trucks, chick cars, and motorsports. Other projects speak to the representation of women’s connection to cars in popular culture locations such as film, music, and children’s toys. While literature on women’s automotive history and participation has increased since I first embarked on the topic, it tends to fall into two camps. The first is a critique of how auto manufacturers and marketers have traditionally erected obstacles to women’s full engagement with automobiles, and the second is the focus on exceptional women in automotive – women who have successfully challenged barriers to become successful in venues such the auto industry and motorsports.
Chick Car project
In my own work, I have focused primarily on ordinary women – in popular culture as well as real life – in order to uncover the complicated, productive, positive, as well as empowering aspects of women’s relationship to cars. In each of these contexts, I attempt to reveal the potential of the automobile to enrich women’s lives. Although I often address the barriers to women’s participation in various car cultures, the major focus is on how women successfully negotiate membership in male dominated automotive spaces not to become famous, but rather to become stronger, more confident, and more powerful versions of themselves. In popular culture settings, I try to examine how cars hold special meanings for women that differ from those found in dominant male narratives. My goal in each of these projects is to give the woman driver a voice that has historically been silenced.
Girl Gang Garage – credit Volvo
During this past week I came across an article in Advertising Age developed from an interview with Janique Helson, head of brand marketing at Volvo Car USA. As the article points out, Helson ‘has made combatting sexism in the automotive industry a tenant of Volvo’s marketing strategy.’ One of the ways this has been accomplished is through the unique female-friendly messaging that has made its way into Volvo advertising and promotional material since Helson took the helm in 2020. Some of these efforts include creating safety messaging that is more emotional, making a connection between feeling safe to the ability to endure challenges. Another is a collaboration with Girl Gang Garage as a means to ‘elevate, encourage, and champion women’s entry and advancement within the automotive and skilled trade industries.’ However, what was most interesting to me was a video created by Volvo last year for International Women’s Day. The recording features snippets of conversations with 26 female Volvo owners discussing the connections they have with their cars. The diverse group of women talk about the car’s ability to strengthen relationship with family members; the pride in owning something so strong and beautiful, how the car contributes to a woman’s personality and identity; how owning a Volvo can lead to a safer and cleaner environment for future generations; the ‘specialness’ of driving a vintage Volvo; how Volvo makes mothers and caretakers feel more safe; the car as an intimate space; and over a dozen other powerful vignettes that demonstrate the significance of cars to women’s lives. As Helson notes, ‘these women have this massive love for cars and the way they talk about it is very different than how men talk about their love for cars.’
International Women’s Day video – credit Martin Schoeller for Volvo
As few in academia write about women and cars as a relationship that is both positive and empowering, I often feel as though I am working in a vacuum. The work Helson has overseen since her appointment as brand marketing head in many ways serves as a legitimization of my own. [On another note, it also emphasizes the importance of having a woman in a position of power within an auto company]. Although Helson operates on a much grander scale and is therefore capable of a much greater reach and influence, we are in agreement regarding the importance of providing women drivers with a platform. As Helson asserts, ‘obviously we need more women working in automotive, but we also need to put women’s stories at the front and center of how they feel about cars and how they feel about driving.’ I am grateful to Janique Helson for the impetus to continue my own exploration of women’s relationship to cars.
International Women’s Day video – credit Martin Schoeller forVolvo
Schultz, E.J. “Volvo’s Marketing Head on Fixing Female Representation in Auto Ads.” Advertising Age. 3 May 2023.
Paul Niedermeyer, writing for Curbside Classics, penned a couple of interesting articles over the past year on the 1950s era Rambler Cross Country. Calling on automotive advertising of the time, Niedermeyer notes how the Rambler was often marketed specifically to the female driver. The Rambler, as ‘the first lifestyle wagon ever,’ was heralded not only for its suitability for growing families, but also for its bold style and unusual, somewhat radical appearance. Advertising was directed not only to suburban moms, but also to fashion-conscious women who desired both practicality and pizazz in the cars they drove. A key part of making the Rambler appealing to women was drawing attention to its interior fabrics and trim, designed by the renowned Helene Rother. As Niedermeyer remarks, ‘a woman’s touch can’t be easily faked.’ Advertising for the Rambler often featured famous women – including American theatre star Margaret Sullavan and the wife of actor Jimmy Stewart – to associate the vehicle with glamour, luxury, class, and discriminating taste. Unlike other automotive advertising of the time, Rambler had a fair amount of success by targeting more affluent and better educated buyers, especially women.
More than a year after the original article appeared, Niedermeyer responded to a previously posted comment that had apparently been gnawing at him for some time. The reader, focusing specifically on the notion that women were important Rambler purchasers, posted, ‘In defense of men, though, many of those 50s women buyers were spending lavishly their husband’s and father’s money.’ Niedermeyer, taking great offense at this comment, countered with multiple examples of how the scenario painted by the defensive reader was unlikely. Calling upon his own experience, he recalled how his father traded in his mother’s car without her knowledge or blessing. As he writes, ‘she was furious, but what was she going to do?’ Niedermeyer also notes that during the 1950s, a growing number of women had careers. In fact, he argues, the targeting of female consumers by Rambler was instrumental in allowing the automaker to survive the early to mid 1950s, when other domestic compacts were failing. Surprisingly [at least to me] Curbside Classic readers – primarily men – joined Niedermeyer in expressing offense to the stereotypical response. Many offered examples of how the women in their respective lives – i.e. strongly opinionated moms, older maiden aunts, and [assumed] lesbian teachers – made their own car buying decisions. Rather than reinforce the generalized stereotype of hapless and uninformed women drivers, the commenters offered a variety of car-purchasing scenarios influenced by family dynamics, finances, marital status, sexual orientation, and the progressiveness of women and men alike.
The Curbside Classic articles caught my attention not only because of the focus on female consumers, but because the author’s comments, as well as those of his readers, brought to mind those of a group of elderly women I interviewed for a project a few years ago. In 2016 I spoke to 21 women in their 80s and 90s – of the same generation of those targeted in 1950s automotive advertising – about their early automotive experiences. Included in the conversations were reminisces regarding individual car histories. Although automakers such as Rambler attempted to lure female customers, the majority of the women I spoke to, when entering marriage, did not have a vehicle of their own, but shared one with husbands. When children appeared on the scene, women fought hard for cars of their own to make their lives easier. However, the majority of these vehicles were not shiny new Ramblers; rather, they were most often described as ‘jalopies’’, ‘clunkers’, or ‘old and cheap’. While there were a few women whose husbands ‘surprised’ them with fancy cars for birthdays or special occasions, most were grateful for anything that offered them a degree of independence.
Since many of the women interviewed were located in the greater Detroit area, it was not uncommon for them to work in auto-related industries, or to have friends or relatives who did. This allowed them to purchase a car a family member had previously driven, secure the inside track on a good used vehicle, or take advantage of an automotive employee discount. Others took over the old family car when a new automobile was purchased. Yet no matter how the car was acquired, the women had a definite say in automobile selection, and would accompany husbands to the dealership to make their desires known. If spouses purchased cars without their wives’ input, they often found themselves heading back to the sales office. Not surprisingly, single women – whether unmarried, widowed, or divorced – had the freedom to purchase the car they wanted without male influence or intervention. What became clear from these conversations is that what women wished for in a car – i.e. functionality, economy, and reliability – often differed from the qualities desired by men. Consequently, making their own automotive needs and requirements known was a very important element of the car purchase process. The responses from the women in this project – as well as the Curbside Classic comments – suggests that women were exceptionally influential in car purchases, particularly if it was a car they would be driving. In the present day, it is estimated that women buy 65 percent of all new cars sold in the USA, and influence 85 percent of car buying decisions (Findlay). It is a practice that, as the responses suggest, began as soon as women took the wheel.
Niedermeyer was correct to question the stereotypical comment of one of his readers; i.e. that women’s car purchases were made possible by lavishly spending their husband’s or father’s money. While certainly there were some women who were ‘surprised’ by car purchases made by husbands, the majority of women made their own automotive decisions. As the Curbside Classic articles and my own research suggest, if a woman drove a Rambler, it was most likely because she had the means and the desire to do so.
Findlay, Steve. ‘Women in Majority as Car Buyers, But Not as Dealership Employees.’ Wardsauto.com 20 Sept 2016.
Lezotte, Chris. ‘Born to Drive: Elderly Women’s Recollections of Early Automotive Experiences.’ The Journal of Transport History 40(3) (2019): 395-417.
Niedermeyer, Paul. ‘How Rambler Won the Compact and Price Wars of the 1950s and Saved American Motors.’ Curbsideclassic.com 25 Jan 2021.
Niedermeyer, Paul. ‘She Drives a Rambler’, and No, She ‘Wasn’t Lavishly Spending Her Husband’s Money.’ Curbsideclassic.com 3 October 2022.
A popular and sometimes irreverent automotive website, Jalopnik not only produces timely car-related articles, but it often gets readers involved by asking for input on various autocentric topics. One of the subjects covered recently was that of car stereotypes. After the author presented a few of his own, the article was followed up by responses from Jalopnik readers. The collected list of stereotypes ranged from the odd and obscure to the well-worn. Among those offered: Miatas are favored by gays; Subarus are driven by lesbians; pickups are the choice of rednecks; muscle cars are owned by macho men; Corvettes are the pick of old guys; Buicks are the car of choice of anyone over 80. What is interesting about these common and oft cited stereotypes is how intricately they are intertwined with gender. Gender, sometimes combined with sexual orientation or age, is not only the major identifier of the car owner, but is the primary means by which a vehicle is disparaged or valued.
This should not be surprising. Gender in car culture is often called upon to ascribe value and authenticity or to degrade and diminish a particular automobile. Due to the automobile’s longstanding association with masculinity, vehicles strongly associated with the youngish straight [white] male driver are invariably considered more powerful, better engineered, technologically superior, more responsive, and of greater workmanship and quality than those chosen by women or members of the LBGTQ community. Much of this assumption is based on the common perception that women just don’t know much about cars. As historian Judy Wajcman notes, “the absence of technical confidence or competence does indeed become part of feminine gender identity, as well as being a sexual stereotype” (155). The belief that women lack technical expertise often creates a reverse kind of logic in the minds of many male consumers. They believe that since women cannot appreciate the finer technical characteristics of a car, such as power, handling, and performance, the cars women purchase must be deficient. Women’s approval, in the minds of many men, leads to the devaluation of the car.
This assumption of automotive inferiority carries over to cars popular in the gay community. In Masculinities, RW Connell remarks that the common perception of gay men is that they “lack masculinity”. As Connell writes, “from the point of view of hegemonic masculinity, gayness is easily assimilated to femininity” (78). Because gay men are often considered feminine among the straight-white-male population, the automobiles they drive are marked “girly’” as well. Consequently, vehicles marked as feminine or “gay” are thought of as less, affecting automotive sales and discouraging those buyers who wouldn’t be caught dead driving a “feminine” car.
What is interesting is that the cars subject to disparaging gender stereotypes were not, for the most part, originally produced or marketed to non-straight-white-male customers. As an example, vehicles now labeled “chick cars” are fast, sporty, nimble vehicles originally produced for the male automotive enthusiast. However, once women with car savvy and newly acquired spending power appropriated the Miata, VW New Beetle, and Mini Cooper as their own, many members of the male population became hesitant to drive them. Some men consider the “chick car” an affront to their masculinity and fear what driving such a car will say about them. As auto writer Ted Laturnus suggests, “for a lot of male drivers, the thought of driving a ‘chick car’ is the kiss of death when it comes to signing on the dotted line.”
The same could be said for the Subaru. As noted on its website, “Subaru has a long history of offering vehicles that are both highly capable and intelligently designed.” Originally known for its 4WD station wagon, the introduction of the Outback SUV – the first of its kind in the automotive industry – led to Subaru’s reputation as a manufacturer of safe and practical vehicles with exceptional performance features. While originally marketed as a vehicle for outdoorsy adventurous guys as well as active families, the Subaru is now considered a top choice for those who identify as lesbian. Yet unlike the chick car scenario, in which automakers beefed up the Beetles and Mini Coopers to make them more appealing to men, Subaru actively and aggressively pursued the lesbian market. As Alex Mayyasi reflects, ‘the marketers found that lesbian Subaru owners liked that the cars were good for outdoor trips, and that they were good for hauling stuff without being as large as a truck or SUV. (In a line some women may not like as much, marketers also said Subaru’s dependability was a good fit for lesbians since they didn’t have a man who could fix car problems.)” Yet unlike chick car manufacturers who feared an association with the woman driver would affect automotive sales, Subaru was confident enough in its product to aggressively pursue the lesbian market. Although the Subaru remains a popular choice among teachers and educators, health care professionals, IT professionals, and outdoorsy types of all genders and sexual orientations, its appeal to the non-straight-white-male population has led to its label as the “lesbian” car.
The age group of a certain automotive purchaser also contributes to a negative stereotype. Older drivers are considered overly cautious, accident prone, and focused on amenities that contribute to a vehicle’s safety, comfort, and economy rather than handling, power and performance. Consequently, car models favored by senior citizens are considered less desirable than those marketed to young white men. Despite its current advertising campaign, Buick’s long association with mature drivers has stubbornly labeled it as the old person’s car.
In much of my research, I focus on women who drive vehicles that challenge gender stereotypes by choosing vehicles – muscle cars, chick cars, and pickup trucks – associated with men. These women often face disparaging remarks and unsubstantiated assumptions regarding their vehicle choices. Although the most prevalent car stereotypes are those associated with femininity, women who choose ‘masculine’ vehicles are not immune.
While car stereotypes are not universally focused on gender, the fact that so many rely on the notion that vehicles associated with individuals who are not young, white, straight, and male are worthy of ridicule is telling. While the intention of the Jalopnik article no doubt was to engage and entertain its readers, it also reminds us that at least in the car world, as Virginia Scharff writes, “what is seen as feminine, or belonging to women, seems trivial at best, dangerous at worst” (167).
Bellwood, Owen. “What Car Comes with the Weirdest Stereotypes?” Jalopnik.com 16 Nov 2021.
Connell, R.W. Masculinities. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005.
On Tuesday, December 1, 2021 I was honored to present “McCann & Me: One Woman’s Experience in Detroit Automotive Advertising” to an avid group of auto historians and enthusiasts at the Automotive Hall of Fame in Dearborn, Michigan. Organized by the Leland Chapter of the Society of Automotive Historians, and led by President Brian Baker, it was an amazing opportunity to share my experiences working as a woman in automotive advertising nearly 40 years ago.
There was a great crowd on hand who were gracious, enthusiastic, and attentive despite my bumbling presentation style, as well as a few surprise guests in the audience. Brian hosted a question and answer session after the presentation and I enjoyed interacting with the audience and giving a few shout outs to folks – I mean you Top Hat John – who have helped my woman-and-car journey along the way. It was great fun to share stories and memories with knowledgeable Detroit area folks.
Detroit auto photographer Jim Secreto with the author
It was an evening I will not soon forget, and I thank Automotive Hall of Fame President Sarah Cook for the opportunity and Brian for encouraging me to share my story. And I can’t forget the absent-but-present-in-spirit National SAH President Bob Barr, who was the individual responsible for convincing me to write the article.
While in graduate school during the 2000s, I devised an independent study focused on my growing interest in the relationship between women and cars. What follows is one of the response papers in which I consider how the construction of women as consumers in post World War II automobile culture served to limit women’s possibilities rather than expand them.
“American Car Culture” was created through the serendipitous confluence of a number of historical and social events in the years following World War II. Prosperity, promise and peace contributed to a fascination and a desire for cars that went beyond practicality and usefulness. As the documentary Tails, Fins and Drive-Ins suggests, twenty years of hardship and conflict created a “national obsession with obtaining the elusive American Dream,” a dream often realized through car ownership. Americans sought a reward for years of self-sacrifice; the automobile not only symbolized an “unlimited supply of economic luster,” but represented a promising and prosperous future as well. Television also contributed to the development of car culture. Its invention coincided with the growing desire to own a car, and television promoted such desire through programming and advertising. The development of a national freeway system, to accommodate the growing number of automobiles, not only changed the landscape of the United States, but also created a demand for family destinations such as motels, drive-in movie theatres and in-car dining. As Mark Foster writes in A Nation on Wheels, the automobile “not only influenced where Americans lived, worked, commuted and ran daily errands, [but] the automobile helped shape many of their leisure activities” (65).
Perhaps more important, as Joseph Interrante in “The Road to Autopia” attests, is the role of the automobile as “simultaneously a cause and consequence of the rise in consumerism” (90). The automobile emerged, both literally and figuratively, as the vehicle of the American consumer society. As Interrante writes, “made possible by the automobility of the car, metropolitan consumerism made the automobile a transportation necessity” (91). A burgeoning economy, and the suburbs that grew alongside the expanding highways, created a desire for products and the ways and means to purchase them. And the role of consumer, considered vital to a healthy economy, was most often awarded to the woman who remained at home.
While few dispute the automobile’s influence in the growth of the American consumer culture, little mention is made of another important “event” that helped set consumerism into motion. And that is the return of women to the domestic sphere after World War II. During the Second World War, women entered the workforce to take over the jobs left by husbands, fathers and brothers enlisted in the armed services. Once victory was attained, women were “encouraged” to leave paid employment in order to create welcoming homes for soldiers returning from war. Just as working in industry was deemed “patriotic” during wartime, setting up housekeeping and establishing families was considered a duty to country. Women’s isolation in the newly developing suburbs made owning a car a necessity, especially in the newly prescribed role as consumer.
Interrante asserts, “[the automobile] especially liberated women from the home” (99). In The Automobile Age, James Flink concurs, as he writes, “automobility freed […] women from the narrow confines of the home and changed them from producers of food and clothing into consumers of nation-brand canned goods, prepared foods, and ready-made clothes” (163). However, the automobile did not lessen the number of women’s domestic responsibilities; rather, it converted them into consumer duties. The freedom referred to by Interrante and Flint is misleading. After World War II, women were expected to leave the “masculine” work force to reassume the proper, culturally approved gender role of wife and mother. Ascribing women with the role of “consumer,” while bolstering the economy, also served to reinforce the common belief that woman’s place is in the home, unless, of course, she is in the car purchasing products for that home. As Ruth Schwartz Cowan writes, ‘by mid-century, the automobile had become, to the American housewife of the middle classes […] the vehicle through which she did much of her most significant work, and the work locale where she could be most often found” (Flink 164). So while the car culture that emerged after the Second World War opened up exciting new possibilities, experiences and meanings for men, it effectively closed them for women. The automobile as a symbol of rebellion, power, status, and sex appeal became part of masculine car culture. Representations of women in popular car culture, Foster tells us, are primarily “appendages or passive observers to be impressed by powerful machinery” (85). While women may have originally been “enamored,” in the words of Flink, with the possibilities of automobility, such dreams were rarely brought to fruition. In the golden age of American car culture, the automobile symbolized woman’s identity as consumer, and reinforced the culturally prescribed gender role as wife and mother.
Flink, James. The Automobile Age. Cambridge: MIT Press, 1990.
Foster, Mark. Nation on Wheels: The Automobile Culture in American Since 1945. Belmont CA: Thomson, Wadsworth, 2003.
Interrante, Joseph. “The Road to Autopia: The Automobile and the Spatial Transformation of American Culture.” The Automobile and American Culture. David Lewis & Laurence Goldstein, eds. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.
Tail Fins and Drive-Ins. 1996. Allumination Filmwork.
Volti, Rudi. Cars and Culture.: The Life Story of a Technology. Westport CT: Greenwood Press, 2004.
