February 2,
2001, 5:45 p.m. || rethinking semantics
I used to think the popular anarchist spelling
of "AmeriKKKa" was a bit much (you know, racisms are
multiple, at once insidious and banal, and it does no good to
conflate them under a single image of extremism) but with John "Up with
the Confederacy!" Ashcroft confirmed at U.S. Attorney General, I may have to re-think that opinion.
10:43 a.m. || i
was a tomboy
Edited 6:49 p.m., upon
further reflection and cross-referencing. Er, I'll probably end up editing or adding
to this later. Again.
L took "tomboy testimonials" from the young women as
evidential -- as proof that the "I" uttering the words, "I was the biggest
tomboy," harbored a nascent critique of gender regulation as a ten
year-old climbing trees, besting the boys. The implication is that "authoritative"
experience of being a tomboy is somehow the thing that gave
these women their feminist leanings, but of course, these are the
stories we tell ourselves in hindsight: the realization of first girl-girl love,
the outrage of having to wear a dress to cover scabby knees. We
review the events, the small details, of the past through a particular
lens to create a narrative of our development, i.e., the coming-out
story, the "tomboy to feminist" tale.
Listening to one woman after another testify to
being told to behave and refusing, I worried, as I do (and as a former tomboy), about the value of relating
personal experience in the classroom without a more complicated analysis
-- and this time I also worried about the other girls, the
girls who did not grow up tomboys but enjoyed their dolls and their
dresses, the girls who had different experiences growing up, and yet
also came to a critique of gender regulation.
That is, the assumed "evidence" of the experience of being a tomboy
would seem to exclude (by elision or implication, if not deliberate
shoving) other avenues of coming to feminist politics.
(Side note:
Earlier in the semester I had already broken a rule
of L's classroom-- I had critiqued "consciousness-raising" and the authority
of experience in women's studies. I said, "Well, there are still
some women's studies departments --not many-- that continue on operate
with a C-R model of the 1970s. I have a friend, an avowed feminist,
who took a women's studies class and was asked on the first day
of class what men had done to her to bring her to women's studies. She
was insulted by the idea that somehow she had to testify to some specific
oppressive circumstance, and that her feminist politics was a result."
L looked at me, and moved on. Eek.)
And though experience is (erroneously) seen as
the valued mode of apprehension, as a reliable means of knowing,
the experience of "being a girl" is never stable or singular, in meaning
or lived reality (e.g., ask someone who is transgendered). Nor does the
experience of being a girl or a tomboy or working-class or Asian
American or any combination thereof, et cetera, guarantee a specific
political position. (I feel certain I've said this about a million times
elsewhere.) The meaning of any given "experience" is never inherent or
fixed-- it must be articulated, it is itself based on
representation. Or as Joan Scott writes, "Experience is at once
always already an interpretation and
is in need of interpretation....It is always contested, always therefore
political."
And so of course, how we theorize "experience" is also always
political.
I am admittedly over-suspicious of the value of
"experience" as a (supposedly unmediated) source of knowledge in
feminist politics. (The problematic formulation of a feminist agenda
from "women's experience(s)" created the very narrow analyses of
the white, middle-class women's movement of the 1960s
and '70s, for instance.) I once chronicled the downward
spiral of riot grrrl as the tranformative index of "the personal is
political" became some other thing, a monstrous thing. The
political become personal, and a policing phenom, and it tore girls
up. The authority of experience became a mechanism of silencing other
girls who might not be able to testify, score high on the oppression
scale, cash in on "oppressed" identities (some girls and boys had lists)
like commodities. Claims to be "working class" were trumped by those who
claimed "poor" and then finally "criminal class" -- authority to
speak was granted accordingly. Class was understood as "real" only
insofar as it affected behavior, and capitalism as that which enabled
class identities, but simultaneously political economy was denounced as
"masculine" academic manuveuring and too abstract to be useful to "real
people."
(I remember being horrified, at this and so many
other things.)
It was a weird moment, like watching roadside
accidents happening all around. It only lasted two years, at the most,
but it was a bloody affair. The reductive psychologizing of
experience and politics left so many reeling in its wake. (Now that it's
over, we speak of it like a collective nightmare.)
It's not that I want my students to not
speak of their experiences. I realize that this classroom might very
well be their first time in thinking through a
political lens their own lives, and neither is this my classroom alone. (I
would do this differently.) And I know too many (usually straight, usually white,
and/or usually male, though not always) activists and/or intellectuals of
realpolitick
who
could certainly stand to recognize that the lived realities of certain
bodies cannot be flattened out with appeals to rational abstraction and the zero-sum
sociality of a (Habermasian) public sphere.
But I don't want the lived experience of being a
tomboy to be the authoritative experience of nascent feminist
resistance, or the privileged narrative of childhood challenges to
gender. This kind of argument --that a certain lived
experience is the foundation, the guarantee, of a certain
political position-- closes down a more critical inquiry into the ways
in which subjectivity is produced, agency made possible or
circumscribed, the ways in which race and gender and class intersect to
create different meanings for "girlhood," and the ways in which politics
organizes our lives and how we understand these experiences. And
I want the other girls to say, "Well, I
loved Barbie but I'm somehow still in this classroom. What does that tell you?" Or I want to be able to
say (without feeling like I just stopped conversation
short), "What counts as gender transgression, and why? Are there ways
in which resistance might be invisible, or less obvious? How do we know
what any given experience means, anyway?"
And I'd like "experience" to be taken as
another kind of evidence, the evidence not of "truth" but of the workings of
ideology, maybe, the evidence of how the personal is profoundly political. (It's a subtle but
powerful
difference.) I want somehow that this might lead to a critical recognition
of discursive architectures, I want them to remember that the political
is constituted in social and cultural forms outside of their
own experiences.
some
readings on "experience:" Joan Scott,
"Experience," in Feminists Theorize the Political, eds. Judith
Butler and Joan
Scott. Diana Fuss, "Essentialism in the Classroom," in Essentially
Speaking: Feminism, Nature, and Difference.
9:32 a.m. || how to be horrified at what MTV believes about young black men
"They were trying so hard to market Save the
Last Dance to young black men between 18-24," she said. "They had
all these alternate titles they thought were less 'girly' and would
appeal more to boys -- and they all had variations of 'booty' in 'em.
Shake Your Booty, Booty Dance, Booty Call." J
rolls her eyes expressively. "I told them the last one was already a
movie."