Before today’s reading, I had no idea of the complexity of feminism. Sure, I could articulate a definition, but beyond what feminism represents I had never thought about who it represents. This who is perhaps even more important that the what, for it is what has polarized feminism and the female sex for so long.
As a woman, I have viewed the feminist movement as an opportunity to connect with and relate to any member of the female sex, regardless of race, religion, class, or geographical boundaries. I believe that all women are unique and, thus, inherently different; however, as members of the same sex, we share an ineffable bond that we cannot and should not deny. While women’s differences have demanded the need for different types of feminism, it is disheartening to think that the LARGE thing we have in common is not enough to unite us.
Unfortunately my vision is clearly naïve, as the articles by Lorde, Miles, and McIntosh demonstrate. All three women illustrate the ubiquity of these inherent differences and the extreme importance of recognizing and valuing them. What I find most striking about their stories of white privilege and the real conditions (differences) in our lives is that each example is nothing more unique nor extravagant than the everyday experiences of these black and white women. The manifestation of racial and social differences in feminism is not something most women immediately recognize, nor is it easy to resolve, “The Rag was tearing from the pull of problems that had been so small at first, we hadn’t noticed them…And although we all felt the problem, we did not know how to excise it,” (Miles, p. 174-5).
What we, as women, fail to recognize is that these differences do not need to be excised, but rather harnessed. Miles references a beautiful quote by McIntosh that expresses the need to embrace and utilize our diversity, “Recognize differences among women who are our equals, neither inferior nor superior, and devise ways to use each others’ difference to enrich our visions and our joint struggles,” (Miles, p. 180). In her own essay, McIntosh reiterates this concept in a more parsimonious, fundamental way, “It is learning how to take our differences and make them strengths,” (Lorde, p. 2).
Yet before our variations in class and race can be used as fuel for the feminist movement, we must first realize and accept that they exist. This concept links directly back to Johnson’s notion of the patriarchal system and the role that all members play in maintaining it. What makes the case of female difference distinctly more difficult to detect is that is counterintuitive to the universal definition of female. Much like avoiding the path of least resistance, seeking out these differences is the first step to changing the system of feminism, “To redesign social systems we need first to acknowledge their colossal unseen dimensions,” (McIntosh, p. 6).
All these ideas got me thinking about a song I know very well, yet have never applied to females and feminism. Titled Class System, by Handsome Boy Modeling School, this song is a hip-hop collaboration that aimed to satirize the ideas and motives of the upper class and “old” money. While the “system” in this context clearly refers to the limiting and perpetuating distinctions between social classes, the idea is consistent with that of Johnson and McIntosh. The most poignant verse describes the compromised position of people caught in the system, while brilliantly acknowledging they are the ones upholding it, “They're all trapped in the system / Unbeknownst to them they're trapped with no glass”. While honest and sad, this idea should actually be empowering. These systems, whether of patriarchy or feminism, are merely constructions that their very victims have failed to destroy.
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