Going Too Far (23 page)

I had been working at Grove Press as an editor for two and a half years when, in the spring of 1970, I and four other employees were summarily fired. The reason officially given was “reorganization needs,” but the real motive for the firings, as later confirmed by Arbitrator Thomas A. Knowlton, appointed by the National Arbitration Association of the National Labor Relations Board, was punishment for the sin of trying to organize a union.
¹
Grove Press had built a facade reputation as a Left-liberal, avant-garde publisher, but much of its output consisted of sexist paperbacks which objectified women. I had refused to work on these, restricting my editorial duties to the political books, but I could not ignore the unequal treatment of women employees (from editor to janitor) all around (and including) me.

Publishing, a white-collar business and the third largest industry in New York, was beginning to experience feminist stirrings. More than 80 percent of all publishing employees are women, and we are mostly at the bottom of the pyramid; men control the field.

There was talk of forming an industry-wide women's group in publishing, possibly an industry-wide vertical union. Meanwhile, organizing efforts were going on in a number of individual houses—the Grove Press firings (which amounted to more than seventy people by the end of what we dryly called The Purge) were broadcast as a clear warning to publishing employees elsewhere. In this, at least, Grove was avant-garde. It was also an exception in playing unwilling host to a seizure and barricade of the executive offices by myself and eight other feminists protesting the firings, the discrimination against women, the sexist publications. This action was the first such militant move taken in the current feminist wave. It was also the first time since the days of the suffrage fight that women were arrested in a purely feminist cause (Grove Press had us
charged with criminal trespass and criminal mischief, a felony—and we pulled down resisting-arrest charges in addition, by demanding policewomen as our arresting officers, since we refused to recognize male authority). It was the first time the liberal realm of publishing had been attacked by women; the first time feminists openly declared pornography as an enemy; and the first time feminists proclaimed our sympathy with women who were jailed as prostitutes, accurately naming such women political prisoners.

In strategic terms, the action was a success. The punishment was comparatively light, the results rewardingly vengeful. Not only the Women's Movement but much of the Left supported the feminist action. Boycotts of Grove Press books, both by individuals and by radical bookstores, became commonplace. Carl Oglesby (a leading New Left theorist who had, along with Kathy Boudin, James Forman, and other Grove political writers, joined the support demonstrations for the feminists) severed his publishing association with the house. In a letter to the GP-owned magazine
Evergreen Review
, he prophesied, in part:

“
You've squandered the only coin that's current among the people you've tried to speak for
…
Nobody is going to pay the slightest attention anymore to what you have to say … Maybe you have half a year before the word gets around … of every three women you meet, or maybe of every seven men, one will be thinking of ways to deal with you for what you've lately done
.”
²

In personal terms, the action had a more complicated effect, of course. I experienced the redundantly radicalizing effects of losing my livelihood, seeing the liberal mask peel from the faces of white-collar coworkers, being behind bars while my nine-month-old baby was enduring a high-fever reaction to his smallpox inoculation and, in general, feeling the impotence of powerlessness. That frustration left me impatient with rhetoric and lustful for action and the means wherewith
to
act, and it, more than anything else, influenced the reworking of the following piece.

All this time later I find that I completely affirm what I wrote about discipline, and about our need to learn how to teach one another without the intervention of power games. The subsequent years have created their own versions of feminist learning situations: institutes on political theory such as Sagaris, feminist retreats, women-run self-defense dojos, and even educational institutions like Womanschool in New York City, providing courses in everything from garage mechanics to
poetry—these are flourishing today. If the emphasis is less on militarism than proposed in my article, this is for a number of reasons. I would number among them the raised consciousness of the American public, in part due to the war and to Watergate, which in turn creates a (slightly) more responsive environment and permits of less extreme forms of protest. Perhaps the most important ingredient, though, is emerging still as the insistence of most women on finding a way to better the world with a minimum of violence. This is not expressed in a goody-goody-aren't-all-women-peaceable manner, but rather in a ferocious refusal to give in to old means and become the very enemy we claim to be fighting.

The entire question of violence is one the Women's Movement has engaged only indirectly, and I sometimes wonder if it isn't a question that preoccupies mostly those women who like myself came to feminism from the Left. In my more cynical moments I ruminate that the reason is simply because feminists spend all our violence on one another, which nicely settles the question of whether or not to employ any of it against the patriarchy. Yet the question runs deep, and remains unanswered. I find myself both envious and contemptuous of those for whom such questions seem simple.

Less than a month ago, in broad daylight one block from where I live, a man assaulted me on the street. Because I yelled bloody murder and there were people around, he ran. Had it been nighttime, he probably would have reacted differently, and then I would have been reminded again—by my own bloodpulse, by the surge of adrenaline along my limbs, by the gush of rage exploding into fury inside my brain and along my muscles and through my very nails and teeth, I would have been reminded that I do not reject defensive violence, that my reflexes recall their martial-arts training, that hatred must be released against the cause someway, somehow, or be turned in against the victim who has been forced to host that feeling.

Yet less than one week ago, the television screen glared at me with hours-old scenes of children lying dead in Londonderry streets, of women killed in Lebanon, of men slain in Soweto. On my streetcorner pavement, pale bloodstains remain one morning from a knife fight the night before. It's always defensive violence, isn't it? My son's schoolmates revive their pressure on him to play war games, which he tries to translate at least into playing Knights of Queen Guinevere (the Malory influence from poet parents) or Robin Hood (Marxism
cum
the English literary folk tradition) or even Followers of Wonder Woman versus the Bad Men. I watch him suffer the scorn of his peers, watch the message of death-as-diversion trickle into his games, watch his natural human longing for adventure
become corrupted by their already socialized male longing for violence.

And I want to smash their little war-mongering faces.

So am I caught, trapped, cramped suddenly with horror at my own rancor.

Somebody tell me again this is simple.

Damn, damn, damn.

W
OMEN IN GENERAL
, and the Women's Movement in particular, have always had our strategic options shockingly limited by our lack of certain tactical skills, especially those required for independent survival and militant struggle. This is a condition common to all oppressed people, and is not their/our fault. But it becomes our fault if we do not act to change that condition. At a certain point it is contingent upon the oppressed to seize knowledge and skill for themselves, in order to free themselves. It is no longer sufficient to bewail our lack of the very tools we will need in order to create a Feminist Revolution. We must begin, by hard work and commitment, to take ourselves seriously.

This does not mean that every skill we acquire we must use. Rather, it means that we begin to amass our own independent resources of knowledge and effective practice so that we are prepared for any situation. If we lack the skill altogether, that most certainly limits our chances of using it—unless of course in the crunch we are willing to rely on men who have those skills. Myself, I prefer to be prepared.

The idea behind the following proposal was born out of personal frustration with my own ignorance and technical incompetence, as well as political despair at seeing myself and many other women drop out of training programs, such as karate, which require an intense and lengthy commitment. For women with jobs outside of as well as in the home, and/or children, plus political meetings, demonstrations, etc., the discipline required for nightly karate class falters, particularly given the atmospheric noninducement of a male-dominated dojo (which is almost always the case). Lack of progress creates discouragement, laziness, apathy. This goes for other learning commitments, too. So much of the dropout syndrome is attributable to a pathology of oppression—the self-fulfilling prophecy of inferiority which is so well taught by the powerful to the powerless as to make the latter group collaborate in its own undoing, thus proving the rule in order to win the approval of those who invented the rule. This is a kind of success-in-failure, frequently the only type of success available to the oppressed.

It occurred to me that perhaps if a “crash plan” could pack into a short time some basic facts and opportunity for practice, possibly
women who, like me, find it difficult to integrate long-term study into their daily lives could, as I could, somehow set aside time during the summer (vacation from job or whatever) to single-mindedly commit themselves for just that period—and consequently have the reward of seeing a few fast results, at least enough to carry us psychologically through follow-up at home the rest of the year. It's easier to keep up a skill once you're trained in the rudiments of it and the awesome mystique of it has been penetrated.

This is a proposal, then, for (possibly regional) Women's Skill Summer Sessions. These would be six-week-long sessions, held away from home, in a “summer camp” atmosphere, on land donated or rented. Child care could be provided nearby or even on the premises, although the latter presents problems requiring continually divided attention for the mothers. Between thirty and sixty women could attend one “term” and there could be three such terms or sessions a summer. It would not be impossible to keep expenses down so that each woman would have to pay only about sixty dollars for the entire six weeks. Food preparation and cleaning tasks would be rotating and all would participate, in addition to teaching and studying with and from each other. The attached list (meant only as a draft) shows proposed required skills as well as optional ones. The required concept is included at all because (1) The list is based on an informal survey of what many feminists (myself included) seem to feel is necessary for us all to know, and (2) It is embarrassingly true that we all carry tendencies which would tempt us to learn only what interests us rather than what is most needed—by us and others.

All areas would be taught by women. These would be women with a serious professional knowledge of what they were communicating, though not a “professional” stake in status. There would be no half-information passed on sloppily to others (a temptation surrendered to frequently among the oppressed in our dual hunger to learn and to feel important). Those women who would be sharing their skills also would be present in other classes to learn from someone else. This would go a long way toward breaking down any resentment toward authority-teacher roles. Everyone also would be living together collectively, in dormitories or houses or whatever could be arranged to further emphasize equality.

The structure of the whole session would have to be based on some form of self- and collective discipline, since people would be there with a serious investment of time and energy, and those who were not pulling their share of the work or study or teaching would be hurting the chances of others. If the purpose of the plan were stated clearly enough in advance, however, I believe that those women who actually became involved would be in earnest about using the time effectively.

I am
not
proposing a joyless cramming nightmare. To learn, and especially to learn from other women, to feel yourself grow skilled and strong—that's a very real pleasure. There also would be time for rap sessions and political cross-fertilization, but these would not constitute the purpose for the sessions, so such time would be of necessity limited. This proposal is not for a vacation, a retreat, or a conference, after all. It is for women who can see themselves getting up at 5:00 or 6:00
A.M.
and going through an uncushioney day of solid work which would leave relatively little energy for conversation at its close. The discussion can come before, after, or even throughout the session, but not, for once, at the expense of taking practical steps to learn how to survive, fight, and win.

The primary purpose of the Skill Sessions would be to train sisters who in turn could go back home and share those skills with other women, extending the capacity and knowledge of the entire feminist movement. There is a great need for the survival and service skills to be used as well as taught in every community of women, and to be further developed locally. This is one way of saving women's lives, meeting their/our needs, providing genuine alternatives, and building strength.

It certainly has occurred to me that six weeks is a very short time for such a learning process (see the list of required and optional classes). But then I remembered what may strike some sisters as a dangerous analogy, and so I ask that this analogy be recognized only as a very limited one. Basic training in the army has in certain periods (during wartime) taken only six weeks, during which time they can take a raw recruit, a potbellied young American male, and turn him into a professional killer. This of course is not our aim, nor would their fascistic teaching methods even remotely serve as models for us. But the time factor is undeniably interesting, and encouraging, since we wouldn't have to waste any of our precious moments learning rank, procedure, how to salute whom, and other such idiocies. In fact, the only similarity would be hard, serious work compacted into a short period. But ours would be wholly voluntary, and a step toward freedom.