Still Mad Read online

  STILL MAD

  American Women Writers and

  the Feminist Imagination, 1950–2020

  SANDRA M. GILBERT

  AND

  SUSAN GUBAR

  W.W. NORTON & COMPANY

  Independent Publishers Since 1923

  For Dick Frieden and Donald Gray

  and from each of us to each,

  the irreplaceable other

  Who knows? Somewhere out there in this audience [at the Wellesley College commencement] may even be someone who will one day follow in my footsteps and preside over the White House as the President’s spouse. I wish him well!

  —BARBARA BUSH, ADDRESS TO THE WELLESLEY COLLEGE CLASS OF 1990

  Feminists are made, not born.

  —BELL HOOKS, “CONSCIOUSNESS-RAISING: A CONSTANT CHANGE OF HEART” (2000)

  I was asked many times if I still believed in feminism! As if it had been a fad like mood rings and pet rocks.

  —HELEN REDDY, THE WOMAN I AM: A MEMOIR (2005)

  I’m sometimes asked when will there be enough [women on the Supreme Court]. And I say, “When there are nine.” People are shocked. But there’d been nine men, and nobody’s ever raised a question about that.

  —RUTH BADER GINSBURG, LECTURE AT GEORGETOWN (2015)

  Our future will become

  The past of other women.

  —EAVAN BOLAND, “OUR FUTURE WILL BECOME THE PAST OF OTHER WOMEN” (2018)

  CONTENTS

  Introduction: The Possible and the Impossible

  Glass Ceilings and Broken Glass

  How the Seventies Changed Our Lives

  The Schooling of Hillary Rodham and Her Generation

  The Cultural Chaos We Face

  Keeping Things Going

  SECTION I: STIRRINGS IN THE FIFTIES

  1. Midcentury Separate Spheres

  Sylvia Plath’s Paper Dolls

  HIS AND HER Time

  Anatomy and Destiny

  2. Race, Rebellion, and Reaction

  Diane di Prima as a Feminist Beatnik

  Gwendolyn Brooks’s Bronzeville

  The Stages of Lorraine Hansberry’s Militancy

  Audre Lorde’s Lesbian Biomythography

  Joan Didion’s Vogue versus Betty Friedan’s Problem That Has No Name

  SECTION II: ERUPTIONS IN THE SIXTIES

  3. Three Angry Voices

  Plath Despairs While Ariel Takes Wing

  Adrienne Rich as a Cultural Daughter-in-Law

  Nina Simone, Diva

  4. The Sexual Revolution and the Vietnam War

  Sex in New York City: Gloria Steinem versus Helen Gurley Brown

  Susan Sontag, Joan Didion, and San Francisco

  Women Strike for Peace

  Valerie Solanas and the Rise of the Second Wave

  SECTION III: AWAKENINGS IN THE SEVENTIES

  5. Protesting Patriarchy

  Kate Millett’s Touchstone Book

  Susan Sontag as Feminist Philosopher

  Best Sellers in the Womanhouse: From Toni Morrison to Marilyn French

  Plath’s Electric Take on the Fifties

  6. Speculative Poetry, Speculative Fiction

  The Metamorphoses of Adrienne Rich

  Dystopias and Utopias

  Alice Sheldon/James Tiptree, Jr.

  Joanna Russ’s Misandry

  Ursula Le Guin’s Androgyny

  7. Bonded and Bruised Sisters

  Gloria Steinem and Alice Walker at Ms.

  Audre Lorde Dismantles the Master’s House

  Maxine Hong Kingston’s Ghosts and Warriors

  The Dinner Party

  SECTION IV: REVISIONS IN THE EIGHTIES AND NINETIES

  8. Identity Politics

  Andrea Dworkin and the Sex Wars

  Gloria Anzaldúa’s Mestiza Consciousness

  Adrienne Rich’s Judaism

  The Intersectionality of Toni Morrison

  9. Inside and Outside the Ivory Closet

  The Culture Wars

  The Queer Theories of Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick and Judith Butler

  Anne Carson’s Poetics of Love and Loss

  Postmodernism/Transsexualism

  Who Owns Feminism?

  SECTION V: RECESSIONS/REVIVALS IN THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY

  10. Older and Younger Generations

  The New Millennium

  Alison Bechdel’s Literary Genealogy

  Are You My Mother?

  Eve Ensler’s V-Days

  Transgender Visibility: From Susan Stryker to Maggie Nelson

  11. Resurgence

  Claudia Rankine Makes Black Lives Matter

  The Broken Earth of N. K. Jemisin

  Patricia Lockwood Sends Up the Church and the Family Romance

  Headlining Feminism: From Rebecca Solnit to Beyoncé

  Keeping Things Stirring

  Epilogue: White Suits, Shattered Glass

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  NOTES

  CREDITS

  INDEX

  STILL MAD

  INTRODUCTION

  The Possible and the Impossible

  THOSE WHO CAN’T MARCH, write. As many of our friends prepared to go on the January 21, 2017, Women’s March, we knew that, with our various disabilities, we weren’t physically able to join them. How could we stand in solidarity, we wondered? An answer to this question arrived a week before the massive protests in Washington, DC, and many cities around the globe, when we began collaborating on this book.

  The passion then in the air recalled for us the intensity of the feminist movement in the seventies, a powerful social uprising that reflected a transformative political awakening for women and girls, and sometimes the men and boys around them. Looking back on that earlier time, the film critic Molly Haskell captured the sense of excitement: “We were rejecting the past, rejecting being circumscribed, rejecting the ways of our mothers. It was as if an entire landlocked race had climbed up a cliff and seen the vast wide sea for the first time. . . . Everything was possible.”1

  Of course, things were different in January 2017. What had seemed impossible—the defeat of a highly qualified woman candidate for the presidency by a boorish, utterly unqualified man—had not only become possible, it had happened. The countless worldwide protests were clearly fueled by feminism. If the women’s liberation movement of the seventies hadn’t had such far-reaching effects, the outcome of the election might not have seemed quite so scandalous, and the immediate need to protest might not have been so urgent. At the same time, though, even as the giant wave of protest mimicked the impassioned demonstrations of the seventies, it soon enough became obvious that this rebellion was inspired by despair. While the marchers of the seventies felt themselves to be advancing into a brave new world, the plaintiffs of 2017 were gazing at a fallen world, dominated by a corrupt figure both infantile and demonic.

  To tell the story of what we consider the ongoing second wave of feminism, we have chosen representative women—poets, novelists, dramatists, singers, journalists, memoirists, theorists—who seemed especially charismatic to us. Taken together, they subvert the standard caricature of the women’s movement as white, middle-class, and elitist. We’ve also chosen to concentrate on North American literary women, although all our other books examine the transnational relationships of women writing in English. But the shock of the election of a nativist president led us to narrow our focus to feminisms in our own country. And the permeable borders between Canada and America have made several Canadian women writers especially important to the American reading public.

  Certainly, we could have picked other significant figures, but those we chose seemed to us to help keep things going while things were stirring, as the great nineteenth-century suffragist Sojourner Truth put it.2 We
were drawn not only to the publications of notable women but also to their lives, which dramatize the problems flesh-and-blood women face as they make the personal political. There has been much misrepresentation and some trashing of feminism’s past, and maybe too much generalizing as well. We sought not to homogenize but to pay tribute to what the women’s movement contributed not only to our present opportunities but also to an even more liberated future.

  One of the debates in which women continue to engage swirls around the issue of how many “waves” of feminism there have been in American history: some say three, some say more. But the problems faced by women and the strategies devised by feminists evolved continuously throughout the late twentieth century and the first two decades of the twenty-first century. Just as we can trace the development of the first wave of the women’s movement from the 1848 Seneca Falls Convention to the Nineteenth Amendment granting the right to vote in 1920, so we can conceptualize one second wave that grew from the nineteen fifties up to today: tremulous, tumultuous, tremendous, ongoing. With that perspective, we take to heart the fact that all of us are still in the midst of it, keeping things going while things are stirring.

  To ensure future progress, we must all continue to contest, agitate, and advocate, for “if we wait till it is still,” Sojourner Truth cautioned, “it will take a great while to get it going again.” Sojourner Truth, who was “above eighty years old” when she spoke those words, believed that she was “kept here because something remains for me to do; I suppose I am yet to help to break the chain.” We two, we too, feel similarly.

  GLASS CEILINGS AND BROKEN GLASS

  Mantras of bygone days still ring in our ears: We’ve come a long way, professor! We’re shattering glass ceilings! We can have it all! We’re leaning in and the culture’s changing! But is the culture really changing? If it is, why are we and so many of our friends still mad? Mad as in the sense of enraged. Mad as in the sense of maddened, confused, or rebellious. Maybe if you come a long way, you encounter territorial backlash. Maybe if you shatter glass ceilings, you have to walk on broken glass. Maybe if you lean in, you topple over.

  Four decades have gone by since we opened our first coauthored book, The Madwoman in the Attic, with the question “Is a pen a metaphorical penis?”3 We were attempting to examine the centuries-long identification of authority with masculinity in order to excavate female literary traditions. Now we find ourselves mulling over a related question as we seek to understand the gender implications of American politics. In this presumably more liberated moment, when quite a few women have come forward as serious candidates for the presidency, we nevertheless find ourselves asking, Must the president have a penis?4

  So far, all our presidential elections have suggested as much. In 2016, an unqualified, misogynistic television personality defeated a highly qualified, ambitious female politician in the Electoral College, although she won the popular vote by a margin of three million. But even more recently, a trio of vigorous, experienced women senators—Kamala Harris, Amy Klobuchar, Elizabeth Warren—dropped out of the Democratic primaries, leaving two elderly men standing, 78-year-old Bernie Sanders and 77-year-old Joe Biden; and finally, Joe Biden became the candidate. One factor that was put forward to explain these latest defeats? Electability. No “mere” woman, it was thought, could defeat the rabble-rousing, nearly psychotic Donald J. Trump, nor would a self-declared socialist like Sanders be able to trounce the monster. In a sense, however, Trump trounced himself with his bungled response to the pandemic that spread as the campaigns continued, so that the more empathic and rational Biden triumphed.

  As Trump’s bullying “lock her up” campaign against Clinton foretold, his term in office triggered an explosion of chaos, falsehood, and corruption that shattered all political norms, and its disorder peaked with his incompetent handling of COVID-19. At first denying the danger of the novel coronavirus, then promising that it was under his control, the president failed to organize the provision of testing, contact tracing, protective equipment, ventilators, national stay-at-home orders, and other medical necessities. While at some press conferences he boasted that only he could dictate the sheltering-in-place prescribed by epidemiologists and ordered by governors, at other briefings he claimed that the governors were in charge and he took no responsibility.

  Toward the end of the second month of the viral rampage, Trump began, as Governor Jay Inslee put it, “fomenting domestic rebellion,” tweeting out “LIBERATE MINNESOTA!” “LIBERATE MICHIGAN!” “LIBERATE VIRGINIA” in support of alt-right demonstrators protesting against the social distancing orders issued by his own government and adding ominously, “and save your great 2nd amendment [the right to bear arms]. It is under siege!”5 Was he in fact fomenting armed insurrection? And did he seriously mean, a week or two later, to suggest that Americans should try to cure themselves of COVID-19 by injecting disinfectant into their bodies—for example, Lysol? Then he ordered the military to use flash-bang explosives, tear gas, rubber bullets, and helicopters against peaceful Black Lives Matter protesters in Washington, DC (so he could stage a photo-op while holding the Bible upside down).

  When he was defeated by Joe Biden in the election of 2020, he refused to concede, firing advisers who tried to tell him he had lost and repeatedly posting such tweets as “NO WAY WE LOST THIS ELECTION” and “We won Michigan by a lot!” Finally, at a scandalous rally, he urged his enraged supporters to march down Pennsylvania Avenue to the Capitol, where on January 6, 2021, they invaded the seat of American government in a riot that left five people dead and many injured. Declared members of the House of Representatives in their impeachment brief, “He summoned a mob to Washington, exhorted them into a frenzy, and aimed them like a loaded cannon down Pennsylvania Avenue.” Peter Baker of the New York Times compared him to a mad king at the end of a Shakespearean tragedy.6

  Of course, in a traditional democracy, where each citizen has one vote and no Electoral College obstructs the will of the majority, Hillary Clinton, the first woman to run for president under the aegis of a major political party, would actually have won the 2016 election. An educated and experienced politician, she would surely not govern by tweet, not deny or evade the existence of a major medical threat, not foment rebellion among the citizens of her land or counsel people to ingest Lysol or enlist the military against civil rights protesters. In a counterhistory paralleling the anarchic narrative in which Americans became enmeshed, we can suppose that President Hillary Clinton would have run an orderly administration, no doubt with flaws and dissenters—but a stable government, much like, say, that of Angela Merkel.

  Like us, this hypothetical president is the product of the seventies, and arguably it was seventies feminism that facilitated her unprecedented rise as the first female candidate for the presidency of the United States sponsored by a major party. She is also a paradigm of the seventies—a dramatic exemplar of the far-reaching possibilities of the women’s liberation movement and at the same time a model victim of the backlash that the movement continually had to confront. During the seventies, Clinton earned a law degree, struggled to continue using the name Rodham, and determined that she didn’t want to “stay home and bake cookies” because she wasn’t “just some little woman standing by my man.” As First Lady, she famously declared that “human rights are women’s rights; and women’s rights are human rights.”7 After her husband left office, she established a notable recorda as the first First Lady elected to public office—the first woman senator from New York—and then as a highly praised secretary of state.8

  The historical transformations that rocketed Clinton into national politics were precisely those that propelled our generation into the professions. These upheavals would become the subject of intellectual inquiries that changed our lives as well as the lives and works of many of our contemporaries. As if in acknowledgment of this point and also to evoke the suffragists of the first wave of feminism, who wore white to proclaim allegiance to their cause, Clinton sported a
white pantsuit when she accepted the Democratic nomination.

  After the 2016 election, second-wave feminism had evidently both triumphed and failed. As the extraordinary Women’s March on Washington of January 21, 2017, revealed, many were angry at the failure, but also puzzled by how it could have happened during a time of so many achievements. We were baffled too. The why of this book? Because we are still mad, we seek to understand feminism’s past and present in order to strengthen its future. The 2016 election, which dramatized feminism’s successes but also its failures, proves that women and men must learn over and over again what our generation started to learn and teach in the seventies and what we began learning during the semester we were teaching the material that would become The Madwoman in the Attic. Its aftermath also confirms that feminists today have begun channeling the rebellious rage of the madwoman we studied, a female figure incensed by patriarchal structures that have proven to be shockingly obdurate.

  HOW THE SEVENTIES CHANGED OUR LIVES

  Back in 1973, when we met in an elevator in the humanities building at Indiana University, we could not have foretold the transformations feminism would inspire throughout the nineteen seventies and afterward. Yet the year had begun with momentous alterations, as the subtitle of one book suggests—January 1973: Watergate, Roe v. Wade, Vietnam and the Month That Changed America Forever.9

  In terms of the women’s movement, think of the decade in its entirety. Remember the reproductive rights conferred by Roe v. Wade, and also the fight for ratification of the Equal Rights Amendment, Take Back the Night marches, the launching of Ms. magazine, the emergence of lesbian separatism and of battered women’s shelters, and The Hite Report. Consider Title IX, which barred discrimination on the basis of sex in any education program or activity receiving federal aid, and the Equal Credit Opportunity Act, which for the first time ever enabled single, divorced, and widowed women to receive credit cards in their own names. Legislation finally assured women in all fifty states that they would serve on federal juries. At the start of the decade, Our Bodies, Ourselves appeared and the Statue of Liberty was draped with a huge banner: “Women of the World Unite.” Toward the end, Congress passed an act prohibiting discrimination against pregnant women in all areas of employment.