Читать книгу Dangerous Dames - Heather Hundley - Страница 17

As critical scholars, feminists, and women, we write for many reasons, but primarily we write because we have something to say and we recognize our position of privilege in having a voice. As scholars, we earned our doctoral degrees learning how to formulate questions, inform our inquiries with theories, apply rigorous methods, and critically interrogate texts. We are not so bold to presume that our findings provide the answer, the only or definitive reading; rather, our critical, scholarly investigations offer insights into the contemporary cultural imaginary and open conversation, engaging in critical rhetorical pedagogy (Ott & Burgchardt, 2013). We are not employed at Research One institutions that impose intense pressure on scholars to produce research extremely quickly and place it in limited (“accepted”) venues; instead, we work at teaching universities that allow for prolonged reflection and expect quality scholarship but afford us a wider variety of publishing venues.³ Therefore, we do not write this book because we must do so to advance our careers. We write this book out of intellectual curiosity, as a way to enrich our teaching, as a form of feminist activism, as a response to those before us, and to offer thought-provoking perspectives to those after us.

We write this book because we share many second wave feminists’ concerns regarding postfeminist representations of empowered women. As women serving as role models for younger generations has slowly become a norm rather than an exception, we fear youth might gain the impression that feminism is no longer needed, that women have finally reached entry into all ←13 | 14→aspects of life, and that gendered equality exists. Indeed, we sometimes hear such sentiments in our classrooms.

Despite representations of strong women, gendered equality does not yet exist. We write to address the cultural paradox between the mediated portrayal of powerful women and our social reality. We write because the June 29, 1998 cover of Time magazine asked, “Is Feminism Dead?” We write because we are concerned that postfeminist constructions of women’s sexual agency can still disempower women through their reliance on body management and the male gaze. We write because of slut shaming. We write because discrimination and misogyny are still rampant. We write because legislators seek to roll back hard-won protections that save women’s lives. We write because more than half of the women who are murdered in the United States are killed by their intimate partners (Petrosky, Blair et al., 2017).

We write because the United States elected a president who disclosed in 2005, “You know, I’m automatically attracted to beautiful—I just start kissing them. It’s like a magnet. Just kiss. I don’t even wait. And when you’re a star, they let you do it. You can do anything. Grab ‘em by the pussy. You can do anything.”⁴ We write because millions of people, donning pink pussy hats or not, participated in a worldwide protest January 21, 2017 advocating human rights and denouncing President Trump’s election.⁵ We write because the June 21, 2018 announcement that New Zealand Prime Minister, Jacinda Ardern, who was the first elected world leader to give birth while in office since Pakistan’s Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto in 1990, made international news because a woman had chosen to have a family and a career.

We write because the 2017 Time magazine “Person of the Year” was “The Silence Breakers.” We find the celebration of those who stood up “with individual acts of courage” (Felsenthal, 2017, p. 32) risking their livelihoods, personal safety, and reputations to speak out against sexual harassment and assault in the workplace, to be culturally significant. We are encouraged by the fact that “the women and men who have broken their silence span all races, all income classes, all occupations and virtually all corners of the globe” (Felsenthal, 2017, p. 37). As the #MeToo movement gains momentum, it overshadows those who spoke up and opposed sexual harassment and did not gain support prior to social media, and the embodied outcomes that will emerge from this mediated activism are not yet clear. We write because despite frequent media claims that “things are different” in the #MeToo era, Dr. Christine Blasey Ford’s testimony regarding her sexual assault by Brett Kavanaugh failed to prevent his Supreme Court confirmation. We write because on the day of Ford’s ←14 | 15→much publicized testimony, calls to the National Suicide Prevention hotline doubled the normal volume (Sacks, 2018). We write because women’s voices continue to be silenced, dismissed, and unheard.

We write because feminists have work yet to do. We write because we hear the concerns from the Mothership (Owen, Stein, & Vande Berg, 2007), the voices of our feminist mentors, the critiques from women of color, and our internal dialogue questioning the intersection of second wave, third wave, and postfeminist concepts. We write because we experience the daily paradox between what we see in the media and what we live on the streets.

Finally, we write because representations matter. Symbols create realities and futures, and in a world where image and reality have collapsed into one another, we cannot become that which we cannot imagine. Burke (1973) notes that literature serves as “equipment for living” (p. 293). We can expand that to encompass all narratives, including those in the texts we investigate and the speculative narrative our inquiry itself offers. Exploration yields new scripts, new possibilities, and new ideas. Although we might extrapolate that texts serve as blueprints, based on this, they need not detail every action and outcome. Indeed, Jameson (2005) suggests the rhetorical function of utopian narratives—namely, hope—affords their primary force. The vision, whether its hopeful nature alone or the specifics depicted, provides new equipment, new ways of being and doing. We write because we are hopeful, and because rhetoric expands the boundaries of imagination.