Читать книгу Freedom to Differ - Diane Helene Miller - Страница 16

Historically, within much of feminist theory, gender has provided the primary (if not sole) lens through which to analyze structures of oppression. In response to the historical silencing of women’s voices, some feminist critics have sought out the lives and words of women who were neglected by traditional scholarship, at the same time developing approaches that value women’s contemporary experience and facilitate the telling of women’s stories. By emphasizing the distinctiveness of women’s ways of knowing, reasoning, speaking, and writing, these scholars often highlight differences between men and women and constitute women as a group with important shared characteristics (Belenky et al. 1986; Gilligan 1982; Showalter 1985).

In recent years, however, numerous writers have challenged the presumption that women’s interests are best served by representing themselves as a group defined by their resemblance to one another and their differences from men. Women of color, Third World women, Jewish women, workingclass women, and lesbians of all backgrounds have argued that their needs have been discounted by feminist critical approaches that ignore the differences among women in favor of a group identity. “Not all women experience sexism in the same way” (Anzaldúa 1990a, 219). Thus it is vital that we attend to the manner in which “class, culture, race, and sex intersect in various ways to produce different kinds of women, lesbians, and lesbian communities” (Sandoval 1982, 242).

Such an awareness suggests that the differences among women are of a significance equal to, if not greater than, our commonalities, and that the predominance of white, middle-class, heterosexual perspectives in the feminist movement has often silenced other women’s voices by glossing over such differences in the name of sisterhood. What is lost in succumbing to such illusory unity is the precision and incisiveness that enables a persuasive critique of oppression. As Cherrie Moraga cautions, “The danger lies in failing to acknowledge the specificity of the oppression” (1983, 29). Responding to the call for specificity, women who are multiply marginalized have begun to develop their own critical methods to explore texts from more complex and particular perspectives of race, class, and gender (see Anzaldúa 1990b; Collins 1991; Flores 1994; Lugones 1990; Minh-ha 1990; Rebolledo 1990).

The emphasis on articulating specific configurations of oppression has led to a form of lesbian politics grounded in reclaiming and celebrating marginalized elements of identity. Such a perspective identifies the multiple, hidden, and contrary positions as insiders and outsiders that characterize lesbian experience, resulting in the fragmentation of the self into various, sometimes conflicting compartments of identity (Anzaldúa 1990b; Frye 1983; Grahn 1984; Rich 1979). As Audre Lorde explains, “I find I am constantly being encouraged to pluck out some one aspect of myself and present this as the meaningful whole, eclipsing or denying the other parts of self. But this is a destructive and fragmenting way to live” (1984, 120). One way to counter this effect is to unite with others who are subject to the same forms of oppression, pursuing a politics that addresses multiple sources of marginalization and enables its adherents to be “all of who we are” (Beck 1982, xxx). In this way, the assertion of identity provides a crucial link between individual survival and political empowerment.

What such a politics of identity works against most clearly is assimilation, a loss of specificity that occurs when difference is diluted into the sameness of the dominant culture. A politics based on identity influences understandings of lesbian identity for both lesbians and nonlesbians. The question of how to conceive of identity is at once a compelling theoretical issue and a deeply personal one, marking a key tension in feminist, and especially lesbian feminist, theorizing. Understandings of identity provide the ground on which politics are organized and alliances forged, but they also shape most profoundly our sense of self, influencing our lives from our most private interactions to our most public acts. A politics based on identity often emphasizes the influence of characteristics rooted deep within us, identifying this inner depth as the source of the true selves and authentic voices that must be reclaimed, revealed, and celebrated.

Although white, middle-class lesbians have responded to mainstream feminism with much the same feeling of exclusion as have women marginalized by race or class, their situation differs in notable ways. Most centrally, whereas other groups of women have been historically (and in most cases, continue to be) underrepresented in the feminist movement, lesbians have been central to feminism from its earliest days and have actively participated in all of its undertakings. They have not always been visible as lesbians in these roles, sometimes because of individual choice but other times because of general anti-lesbian sentiment among feminists (Douglas 1990) or because their visibility as lesbians was seen as detrimental to the feminist movement (Kaye/Kantrowitz 1992;Mennis 1982; Rich 1986).

Nevertheless, despite the failure of the feminist movement to acknowledge or address many of the problems that lesbians face, some of the most influential, respected, and visible feminist writers have been lesbians. The very homophobia of the early women’s movement, as expressed by Betty Friedan’s labeling of lesbians as a “lavender herring” and, later, a “lavender menace,” testifies to the presence of large numbers of lesbians in the movement (Gomez 1995, 35). Thus a tension exists between the clear influence lesbians have had on feminist politics and theory and the feminist movement’s history of dismissing as “special interests” the concerns of lesbians.

Too often, heterosexual feminists fail to recognize the connections between lesbian oppression and the oppression of all women.¹¹ Yet only when feminists have crystallized this connection can we recognize the importance of lesbian liberation for all women. Because “heterosexuality is a social organization of power … that enforces gender inequality between biological males and females” (Blasius 1994, 76), any female rejection of male dominance is often read as a refusal of heterosexuality as well. Thus the hatred and fear of lesbians and the social forces that make lesbianism stigmatized and invisible constitute a threat to any woman who fails to conform to a traditional “woman’s role,” whatever her sexual orientation. This includes the woman who, for any reason, chooses not to marry, not to bear or to raise children, or not to live in a situation of financial and emotional dependence on a man regardless of her marital status. It includes the woman who chooses a nontraditional career, who fails to dress or speak or behave in ways that are appropriately “feminine,” who sleeps with many different men, or who refuses to sleep with a certain man or any men (regardless of her sexual orientation). It includes, as well, the woman who refuses to signal her possession by a man in even symbolic ways, as by choosing not to wear a wedding ring or by keeping her own last name after marriage.

Prejudice against lesbians is grounded in sexism and misogyny, as is prejudice against gay men (Bunch 1987; Kaye/Kantrowitz 1992; Koedt 1973; Pharr 1988). The mistrust of any woman who does not need a man signals a fear of women’s strength and autonomy. It indicates as well a recognition of the threat posed to male power when women discover that, despite what we may have been taught, we possess the intelligence and strength to succeed without relying on a man. The derision directed at lesbians is, in fact, directed at all women who have the audacity to function independently of a man’s support, whether or not they choose to relate sexually to men. Similarly, the hatred of gay men is grounded in the definition of women as those who are sexually available to men and the consequent perception that a man who is sexually available to other men puts himself in the despised position of a woman.

Many women who proclaim themselves feminists are accused of being lesbians, as are women who have short hair, participate in sports, don’t wear makeup (or high heels, jewelry, or dresses), or whose appearance or behavior in any other way defies feminine stereotypes. A heterosexual woman who believes she is protected from homophobia need only proclaim audibly that she doesn’t need a man to find out how quickly the label lesbian will be applied. We can recognize immediately the transgressive nature of her statement, and many listeners would become suspicious about the sexual orientation of a woman who made such a statement. This response suggests that the hatred directed toward women who acknowledge loving women is undergirded by the fear of women whose self-esteem does not depend on male approval and who find sources of power and means of survival other than dependence on a man.

Clarifying the connection between homophobia and misogyny demands a broader conceptual framework than a heterosexual feminist perspective provides. Thus although this discussion may seem to have strayed from its focus on lesbian identity, in fact it has returned to an issue that is central to the acknowledgment of such an identity. Coming out as a lesbian involves not only the choice to love other women but usually, though not necessarily, the choice not to be the intimate partner of a man.¹² While this may seem self-evident, it is significant because it marks the decision to live without material and other forms of privilege granted to heterosexual women who conform to society’s standards of femininity. Acknowledging and accepting a lesbian identity represents both a personal gain and an accompanying loss of privilege, and it is the threat of this loss that imposes such widespread silence. Yet, if one is forced to hide from others and from oneself, this entails another kind of loss and another form of deprivation, a diminishing of self into the pain of invisibility.