Looking for Feminism: Racial Dynamics and Generational Investments in the Second Wave.
DREAMS OF INTEGRATION
In The Trouble between Us: An Uneasy History of White and Black Women in the Feminist Movement. Winifred Breines, writing as both a scholar and a veteran of 1960s and 1970s radical and socialist feminist activism, looks at interactions between black and white women in the civil rights movement; the universalit assumptions of white feminists; the racially divided socialist feminist milieu(s) of Boston-Cambridge during the seventies; and the eventual accomplishment of respectful, if tentative, coalition work in which white feminists learned to accept the leadership of black women activists on issues concerning the black community. Breines interrogates her position as an early participant to examine how "white nostalgia" for the dream of an integrated society and movement shaped both her initial research agenda and the consciousness of white feminists more generally.
Gluck's charge that first-generation scholars have "settled into complacency and not tackled the problems inherent in producing a morecomplicated, multilayered history" is challenged by Breines's self-critical analysis of the assumptions and contradictions that informed racial thought and practice among white socialist feminists (and by implication white feminists more generally). (2) This occurs on two levels in particular: one, a thoughtful characterization of the racial attitudes that characterized post-World War II liberalism; the second, a more specific examination of white feminist activism as exemplified by the Boston socialist feminist group Bread and Roses.
In the first of these, Breines portrays a version of the form of white racial consciousness that we know as the ideology of color blindness. Although color blindness is today most often associated with conservative opposition to affirmative action and multiculturalism, Breines rightly characterizes its 1950s and 1960s version as the product of post-World War II liberalism, an "idealism in which racial difference was almost expressly denied" (8) and in which the ability to overlook race was indeed esteemed as a moral/political accomplishment. A particularly telling detail is Breines's account of her early fascination with Edward Steichen's The Family of Man, which used photos of families from a multitude of societies, nationalities, and racial and ethnic groups at different stages in the life cycle, to express, in Steichen's words, '"the universal brotherhood of man"' and '"the essential oneness of mankind"' through its depiction of "the universal elements and emotions in the everydayness of life." "Color-blindness, our supposed sameness," Breines comments, "moved us; it certainly did me" (10).
For white activists and supporters, the civil rights movement seemed both to articulate and fulfill the dreams of a "universal, racially integrated sisterhood and brotherhood ... where, hand in hand, we would work to create a just world" (9). (3) But color blindness, which tended to see inequality in attitudinal terms, had complex implications for this generation of white activists and the movements they participated in. At the time, Breines notes,
the early, idealistic "family of man" phase seems to have contained the assumption that upholding universalist ideals, like integration, made the one who upholds them into a newer sort of white person. ... It made us different, we thought (11).
No longer implicated, one might add, in the system of racial privilege and the divisions that accompanied it. The unspoken and deeply problematic assumption was that these "different" white people should be recognized as such by black activists.
These attitudes played out, Breines argues, in consequential ways in the development of 1960s and 1970s feminism. The ideals of 1950s liberalism and of the early civil rights movement enabled young white women to "imagine[d], naively, that our 'I' was 'we'; we thought all women were us, and we were all women" (10). The implications of such a formulation were evident in both ideology and practice, even within socialist feminist groups such as Bread and Roses that were distinguished by their recognition of class and race as systems of power within a capitalist society.
In a chapter titled "Learning about Racism: White Socialist Feminism and Bread and Roses," Breines points to the feminist critique of the nuclear family as exemplifying the ideological disjuncture between white and black women activists. Bread and Roses members called for the "abolition of the family as an economic unit and as the only socially sanctioned living unit of our society" (89), describing it as "an institution of privatization" (90) that should be replaced by new forms of personal life, supported by the social provision of childcare, housing, and reproductive labor. As socialists, they sought to extend social provision equally across society and thus to eradicate class and race differentials; in doing so they failed to recognize not only black women's attachment to the family as "a unique site of resistance to the ravages wrought by racism," (91) but the fact that their own "ability to cut off ties with men and families" (95) was founded on the security of class and race privilege. This point has often been made, but Breines's account is not only severe in its criticism of the tone of many of these pronouncements, terming them "mechanical and cold" (91), but insightful in its apprehension of the "blindspots of privilege" that made possible such analyses, that left these women unaware that "their middleclass whiteness inflected their politics as profoundly as race did black women's politics" (95).
Breines's sympathetic but critical portrayal of how universalist values and race-blindness shaped the worldview of white activists is courageous and compelling, as is her autocritique of "white nostalgia" for the dream of a race-blind society as an artifact of white privilege. One of Breines's preferred and distinctive ways of working, in this book as in others she's written, is to couple historical research with personal observation and remembrances. (4) This serves her well in the analysis of white feminists but less well in her discussion of black activism, where she can't rely on the use of small but telling observations to illuminate larger realities. She has worked hard to understand that black activists did not, for the most part, share the dreams of white liberals and radicals and to acknowledge that differences "enriched the movement" even as they "made trouble" (190). Yet there is a persistent disjuncture between the evidence she presents and the conclusions she draws.
This is exemplified by Breines's discussion of the civil rights movement, which identifies black-white cooperation within the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) "as moments of interracial connection," albeit "fragile" ones (49). Looking at relations between black and white women staffers and volunteers. Breines concedes that although "friendships developed, especially in the early years ... on balance, the record indicates that distance prevailed" (48). More broadly, she acknowledges that black activists did not typically share in whites' "romanticization of interracial harmony in the civil rights movement,'1 and that integration was, for most of them, more a political means to achieve equal rights than a goal of "building community with whites" (13-14).
Despite these insights, and in considerable tension with them, Breines develops a narrative are in which black and white women "came together to create a free and racially integrated society," but "had to separate in order to find one another years later" (7). It would appear that Breines retains a vestigial attachment to the very universalist values and assumptions that her thoughtful account seeks to undermine. This is further revealed in passages that extend to both black and white feminists' goals and sentiments that more accurately characterize white women activists, as when she writes of black and white socialist feminists that "they were forced to acknowledge differences they did not know they had, did not want to have, and that nevertheless deeply divided them" (17). The idea that black women were, like white women, unaware of racial differences and that they longed to erase these differences, stands as powerful evidence of her residual investment in the universalist ideal. For Breines, the central issue is the failure of her generation to establish an interracial feminist movement, a failure she views with unambiguous regret.
The books by younger-generation scholars stand in marked contrast to Breines's approach, both analytically and evaluatively, even emotionally. All of them see difference as a source of valuable activism and fruitful theory production. Kimberly Springer, in Living for the Revolution: Black Feminist Organizations, 1968-1980, identifies black feminists as "the first activists in the United States to theorize and act upon the intersection of race, gender, and class" (2), thus explicitly counterposing her work to "previous women's movement histories that categorize difference and schism as disruptive and divisive" (165). Jennifer Nelson, in Women of Color and the Reproductive Rights Movement, intends to understand "how exactly women of color have shaped mainstream feminism" (179). Benita Roth, in Separate Roads of Feminism: Black, Chicana, and White Feminist Movements in America's Second Wave, differs from Breines by her insistent use of the plural, feminisms, in distinct contrast to the implication of a singular feminism in Breines's title, the Trouble between Us. Finally, Nelson and Nancy MacLean (Freedom Is Not Enough: The Opening of the American Workplace), in writing issue-based rather than organization-centered histories, focused on reproductive rights and workplace rights respectively, diversify our understanding of feminist activism by placing it in larger and more complex social movement fields.
PARALLEL AND MULTIPLE FEMINISMS: TOWARD A SOCIAL-STRUCTURAL ANALYSIS
Like Breines, Springer, Roth, and Nelson situate the feminism of women of color within the twofold context of a powerful, visible, and racially un-self-conscious white feminist movement, on the one hand, and an equally forceful dynamic of racial-ethnic nationalisms, with their masculinist politics, especially pronounced in the Black Power movement, on the other. But unlike Breines, who locates the emergence of black feminism some five years after the birth of white feminism, Roth and Springer see the development of feminism among white women and women of color in the United States as both parallel and multiple, rather than sequential and reactive. In Roth's precise formulation,
Some women of color who were activists began organizing as feminists when some white women who were activists did, in the late 1960s, during a time of heightened popular protest ... As organizationally distinct movements, these feminisms saw themselves as belonging to a different movement than white feminists did, a self-perception that should be taken seriously (11).
As a result, Second Wave feminism is best seen as "a group of feminisms, movements made by activist women that were largely organizationally distinct from one another, and from the beginning, largely organized along racial/ethnic lines" (3).
If this were the case, why has feminism been understood as a white movement? Here both Roth and Springer are distinctive in their use of more sociological approaches that emphasize the role of social structural explanation, as well as in their attention to the frameworks that have structured retrospective perceptions of feminist activism in that era. Roth points first to demography: "most feminists in the 1960s and 1970s were white because most people in the United States were white" (7). Most important, however, is the looking-in-the-wrong-place phenomenon, by which white scholars, conflating white feminism with all feminisms, scrutinized white feminist organizations for evidence of participation by feminists of color and, not finding them there, assumed they did not exist. "Not only were they not in white feminist organizations; there is no sense in these explanations that they could possibly have been organizing on their own" (8). Often added to this was the assumption that an authentic feminist politics was defined by a singular focus on gender oppression, so that the intersectional thinking that characterized black feminism and that was black feminism's central theoretical contribution was, for many commentators, disqualifying.
Both Springer and Roth reject the frequently advanced view that personal experiences of interactional racism are sufficient to explain the development of separate feminist movements. Consistent with her intent to place black women "at the center of analysis in this book," Springer rejects a narrative that sees black feminist organizations "as a reaction to racism in the women's movement" (37, 3). In contrast, she argues, black feminism emerged "from the civil rights movement ... and at the same time as" white feminism (4). Although specific exclusionary practices, however unintended, may have made the white women's liberation movement an environment that was at worst hostile and at best uncomfortable for women of color, it was the universalism of its "sisterhood frame" (44) and its failure to "challenge Eurocentric and classist interpretations" (3) that rendered it inadequate to address the needs of black women. Roth similarly notes that an exclusive focus on exclusionary practices posits black and Chicana feminists as primarily reactive to white initiative, with both their ideas and praxis reliant on the attitudes and actions of white feminists. Rejecting that approach, Roth and Springer argue that divisions originated in both social structural location and social movement history.
Inequalities of class and race shaped women's political understandings, assigned them to social locations and political communities, and governed their access to resources: "structural inequality was the underpinning of choices feminists of color made to construct groups that emphasized the racial/ethnic and class differences rather than gender commonalities" (Roth, 45). While self-identified feminists across the board tended to be recruited from among the college-educated middle class, such a recognition does not capture the different meanings, experiences, and levels of resources and vulnerabilities attached to middle-class status within different groups. Middle-class black and Latina women tended to be more marginally and often more recently middle class, with fewer resources and a more tenuous hold on that position. The implications of this played out in multiple ways.
Drawing on resource mobilization theory, Springer especially emphasizes that black feminist activists typically made less money, had fewer family resources, and were in general unable to call on the kinds of monetary and time resources to which white feminists often had access. Roth too points to the scarcity of economic resources as at least a partial explanation for why a group like the National Black Feminist Organization (NBFO) was unable to sustain itself as a national organization that could capitalize on the grassroots enthusiasm its establishment invoked. In a literature that emphasizes the explanatory value of ideological factors, this attention to the importance of paying the rent and answering the mail is an important reminder of the role played by resources in sustaining activism.
Different class and racial locations also shaped perceptions of political interest and collective identity. Because of their acute awareness of the role that structural inequalities of class and race had played in their own lives and those of their communities, an awareness often made palpable by the "marginalization and social isolation" they had experienced as students in predominantly white colleges and universities, feminists of color, Roth argues, simply "did not see [white feminists] as natural allies in the struggle for gender, racial/ethnic, and economic justice" (39, 45). Rather, "white feminists, as white women, were a group to be challenged for unfair advantage, just as white men were" (44). Although negative interpersonal interactions with white feminists might confirm and intensify these views, "this different vision occurred because structural inequalities mattered on the ground" (45). This was a perception that white feminists, with their focus on the universality of gender oppression, their unawareness of themselves as raced and classed people, and their assumption of the commonality of women's experience did not, with a few exceptions, grasp. The structurally based idea that "inequalities created barriers between groups of feminists from the start of their movements" (45) represents a very different model than the universalist one that sees or saw all women as potential and logical allies unless specific obstacles such as racist episodes or systematic exclusionary practices intervened to disrupt the assumed trajectory of common self-interest and unproblematic unity.
Their locations in a divided society also meant that women activists had been politically formed in different oppositional movements--the white New Left, the civil rights and Black Power movements, the Chicano movement. Equipping them with "organizing skills and social networks," these organizations were the sites of their ideological formation, investing them with core political perspectives that continued to shape their thinking, and loyalties that were "particularly acute for feminists of color" (Roth, 5). In each case, women first sought equality in mixed-gender groups, and in each movement, male activists derided their demands. But women's responses to men's attacks differed considerably as they struggled, over a period of time in each case, to reconcile conflicting demands.
White women's liberation, for example, emerged from an attempt to refashion gender relations within the New Left, as women increasingly decried their relegation to movement "housewifery," their vulnerability to sexual exploitation, and their exclusion from leadership. Initially, then, their assumed constituency was an internal, movement-specific one, but New Left men's antagonistic response led emerging women's liberationists to see the movement as a microcosm of the larger society and to conclude that radical men were incapable of reform, no different from any other men. As a result, women's liberationists expanded their target constituency to include "all women" who suffered from the oppression of "all men" and thus opened the way for an autonomous mass movement based on the concept of the universality of gender oppression, a concept that placed white feminism in opposition to the opposing claims of intensified racial and ethnic nationalisms. Thus the universalist option claimed by racially unmarked white feminists was not available to women of color, even had they wished to claim it.
Like that of their white peers, black feminists' activism was motivated by gender dynamics internal to their racially grounded movement. The political shift from civil rights to black nationalism entailed a masculinism that equated black empowerment with masculine empowerment, placed increasing limits on women's movement activism, and prescribed a patriarchal family model in which women's greatest contribution to the revolution was to support their men and care for their children. Exacerbating this, and even shaping it, were influential public policy discourses, most notably the Moynihan Report, with its focus on "black matriarchy" as a principal explanation for the persistence of racial inequality. Reinforced by popular media representations, the report not only pathologized the black family but seemed to make black women responsible for that pathology and thus complicit in the oppression of their community.
The inclusion of Chicana feminism in Roth's comparative framework gives added analytic leverage, as well as contributing to that movement's incorporation into the broader narrative of both women's and Chicano activism. Like early white and black feminists, Chicanas characterized gender equality as a way to enhance the effectiveness of the larger struggle and, like black feminists, they faced charges of being sell-outs to white feminism, as well as the trivialization and accusations of divisiveness that feminist women in all these movements encountered. Chicana feminists responded to such accusations by finding feminist predecessors in the history of previous indigenous and Mexican emancipatory struggles. Thus they were able to appropriate the Chicano movement's emphasis on recovering and using indigenous tradition to construct their claim of an authentically Chicana feminism and to reject charges that it was an Anglo import. Because the goal of Chicana feminism was always "greater political presence in the wider Chicano movement, in autonomous groups and in women's caucuses within mixed Chicana organizations" (130), their use of autonomous organizing was a strategy to gain power within the movement rather than an end in itself, as white feminists' autonomous organizing quickly became.
Like their Chicana peers, black feminists resisted "calls to choose" between affiliation with white feminism and loyalty to their own racial movement. And, like other black activists, they accepted racial authenticity as the principal standard of a meaningful black politics. What they did not accept was the charge that feminism--their feminism--was "white." Accordingly, they sought to maintain their own racial authenticity by turning the tables on their nationalist critics, charging black men with an uncritical acceptance of the Moynihan Report and arguing that in espousing the patriarchal family as a political ideal, black nationalists had adopted a white bourgeois model inimical to black tradition.
Despite such efforts, it is clear that the penalties within the radical black community for self-identification as a feminist, even an explicitly black feminist, could be substantial and must be figured into our understanding of the movement's development. The NBFO's 1973 Eastern Regional Conference is a case in point. While white feminist reporting, grounded in a combination of universalist assumptions and personal unease, was largely clueless about the conference's emerging articulation of black feminism, the major account to appear in a black publication, Brenda Verner's Encore article "Women's Lib Has No Soul," presented a "scathing" denunciation that asserted the "mission of feminism" was "to convert black women to lesbianism and make them handmaidens of white supremacy" (Springer, 99). "Verner's article," Springer observes, "belied an investment in maintain[ing] the idea that black feminists were unauthentically [sic] black and traitorous to black liberation" (100-101). In effect, both white feminists and black nationalists portrayed black women as incapable of articulating an independent feminist vision.
As a result, black feminism seems to have operated as a political tendency that was organizationally distant not only from the white feminist movement but from black nationalism as well, in distinct contrast to Chicana feminism's closer relationship to the Chicano movement. Owing in part to the burden of the Moynihan Report, their strategic options seem to have been more limited than those of Chicana feminists. In particular, the Chicana strategy of validating feminist organizing within their nationalist movement by placing it in a historical tradition of indigenous women's activism was less available to black feminists insofar as black nationalist politics rested on a repudiation rather than a reclaiming of previous black struggles and frequently a view of those struggles as feminized, for example, the civil rights movement's use of nonviolence as well as its integrationist rhetoric. Springer's use of the term "interstitial" (2), that is, inhabiting a small narrow space in the cracks between two larger entities, captures this sense of detachment quite precisely.
PLURALISMS AND CONTINUITIES IN THE PROTEST FIELD
Springer, writing as a "next generation black feminist" (6) with an eye to current and future mobilization, emphasizes the pluralism of black feminism. Analysts, she argues, should avoid essentializing black women and treating black feminism as "monolithic" (171). Black feminist groups, in Living for the Revolution: Black Feminist Organizations, 1968-1980, represented by the Third World Women's Alliance (TWWA), the NBFO, the National Association of Black Feminists (NABF), Black Women Organized for Action (BWOA), and the Combahee River Collective, differed from one another in their goals, organizational structures, identity constructions, and boundary formations.
TWWA, for example, growing out of SNCC's northern branch, operated as a kind of cadre organization, its title signifying an identification with Third World liberation movements in the United States and the world. Within this milieu, Frances Beal's widely circulated 1970 essay "Double Jeopardy" was an early theorizing of black women's dual oppression, later expanded to include class, as Triple Jeopardy, the title of TWWA's newspaper, proclaimed. In contrast, NBFO aspired to be a national organization, addressing a wide range of black women's issues, while NABF, based in Chicago, espoused something of a self-help orientation, reserving consciousness raising sessions for black women while offering classes for women and men of all races on topics including feminist history, black female-male relationships, assertiveness training, drug awareness, and discussions of beauty standards and body image. BWOA, a San Francisco Bay-area group, emphasized leadership training to enable black women to advance women's issues and assert their presence in local black political mobilization. Finally, the Combahee River Collective is best known for its classic theorizing of the "interlocking" character of "racial, sexual, heterosexual, and class oppression" (quoted in Springer, 117). Because it saw writing and theory production as an important form of activism, Combahee did not seek to become a large membership organization, focusing primarily on movement analysis and support for members' individual activism in coalition work. Composed predominantly of lesbians, it was the first black feminist organization to elaborate a theory of black feminist identity that explicitly incorporated sexuality in its intersectional vision.
In critiquing the notion of a monolithic black feminism, Springer emphasizes that difference was played out within as well as between the organizations, especially as regards class and sexuality. Inequalities of class background, current economic resources, and educational level posed the question of whose needs would he met and which black women the organizations aimed to empower. Within NABF, for example, tensions emerged between highly educated women who saw the organization as providing resources for further economic and social mobility and lower-income women who wanted it to focus on the "material concerns" of "the grassroots woman" (127-28).
Combahee, a much smaller organization, did not include the broad expanse of class and educational differences that characterized NABF. Yet, despite its greater homogeneity and socialist feminist politics, Springer's interviewees identified a tension between those who emphasized writing and intellectual work as forms of activism and those who favored grassroots community work. For some within the group, this was not simply a political disagreement about how to define and prioritize activism, but also a class divide insofar as theory production might become a means of individual advancement. At the crux of Combahee's class conflicts, Springer comments', "were differences over how educational aspirations fit into collective ideas of class struggle" (129). In general, she concludes, class was marginalized in the practice of black feminist organizations despite its theoretical centrality.
Sexuality was an even more problematic division. Interactionally, it appeared in tensions between lesbian and heterosexual women and expressions of homophobia, especially in NABF and NBFO. In a larger political sense, Springer charges, it represented a failure to recognize and theorize the meaning of sexuality to black feminism more generally. Heterosexual women in NABF, including the organization's leadership, saw lesbians as a separate interest group, deserving perhaps of tolerance but irrelevant to a feminist agenda: "a category separate from feminist" (135). Unlike TWAA and the Combahee River Collective, the NABF, NBFO, and BWOA "did not interpret heterosexism as an oppressive force in black women's lives, regardless of sexual orientation" (130), and even Combahee, "at the front-lines of black lesbian struggle in the 1970s," did not, Springer charges, "specify the ways black communities were complicit in perpetuating heterosexism" (130). Their critique was "strategically ... underarticulated in the interest of establishing the foundational basis of solidarity between Combahee's black feminism and black communities" (130-31).
The conclusion Springer draws from this history is that the assumption of a "uniform oppositional consciousness," with its failure "to recognize the multidirectional flow of power and privilege inside as well as outside their organizations" (14) was as unfeasible, and undesirable, for black feminists as for feminists more generally. "White feminists," she observes, "were not the only ones guilty of universalizing tendencies in defining the categories of women and sisterhood; African American women activists also underestimated the limits of defining the category black womanhood by ignoring the heterogeneity of black women and their communities" (171).
If Springer looks productively inward, depicting heterogeneity within a black feminism too often seen as monolithic, Roth expands her gaze outward to emphasize commonalities as she places white, black, and Chicana feminisms within a larger protest field, the "particularly vibrant extra-institutional political milieu ... that structured [feminists'] choices about how to organize and with whom" (179). This moment, she argues, was characterized by a distinctive and widely held ethos of organizing, stretching across race and gender lines, and by an intense competition for symbolic and practical resources. Both factors had significant implications for the formation and trajectory of women's activism.
Roth defines the influential "ethos of organizing one's own" as "a generalized, consensual, and specific instruction on how to organize as authentic leftists" (200), usually understood as a mandate to organize within one's own racial/ethnic group. SNCC's 1965 decision to exclude white participation was particularly influential in making explicit the widely held belief that, in women's liberationist Kathie Amatniek's words, '"the most radical thing to do was to fight against your own oppression'" (quoted in Roth, 204), a sentiment later echoed by the Combahee River Collective's statement that "we believe that the most profound and potentially the most radical politics come directly out of our own identity, as opposed to working to end somebody else's oppression." (5) In Roth's view, the "organize one's own" ethos authorized the universalizing claims of white women's feminism while strengthening already existing organizational and communal divisions through the promotion of a "consensus whereby feminists agreed among themselves that it was impossible for them to organize across lines of race and ethnicity" (207).
One of Roth's most original insights is that women's self-organizing, in a crowded and competitive social movement sector, challenged an existing "economy of social movement activism" (179). Because women were responsible for much of the day-to-day labor of organizational maintenance in all of the mixed-gender oppositional movements of the period, feminist organizing threatened the loss of female labor. Consequently, Roth argues, male activists' antipathy to feminism rested as much on practical self-interest as on ideological disagreement. Male opposition to feminist claims may have been framed ideologically, because "ideological arguments were more accepted responses to the emerging feminist challenge than admitting that it was not as much fun to type one's own minutes and make one's own dinner" (184). For the black and Chicano movements, domesticity was ideologically central in a way it was not for whites, because of the dominant view of "traditional roles as a means of reconstructing the community for revolution (the Black Liberationist emphasis) or preserving culture from Anglo domination (the Chicano version)" (184); but for all these groups, the loss of women's labor was an immediate threat to organizational stability and men's own convenience.
Finally, Roth sees the era's crowded social movement sector as intensifying what Deborah H. King, in an important 1988 essay, termed "monism." (6) In jockeying for power and recognition, movements sought to legitimate and differentiate themselves, as well as to claim public attention, by focusing on single axes of oppression, deemed to be the most "fundamental," Roth thus sees monism as the product, at least in part, of inter-movement competition for resources and allegiances, an insight that is original and compelling, yet incomplete insofar as it neglects the powerful influence of Marxism on these late-1960s to early-1970s movements. Feminists, like black nationalists, may have rejected the Marxist privileging of class, but they freely embraced a larger Marxist problematic. In this vein, the Redstockings, and others, identified women as a class and '"male supremacy'" as "'the oldest, most basic form of domination'" such that alleviating it became "the key revolutionary force" (193). Black feminists asserted a politics of multiple oppressions, but retained the Marxist emphasis on identifying a single historical agent who stood at the center of universal emancipation: "'If Black women were free,'" wrote the Combahee River Collective, "it would mean that everyone else would have to be free since our freedom would necessitate the destruction of all the systems of oppression'" (quoted in Roth, 121). (7)
In situating these movements in a larger field, Roth places competition at the center of her analysis--competition for women's labor, competition for moral authority and revolutionary credibility. Her consistent emphasis on feminists and other social movement activists as strategic in their decision making and responsive to political opportunities and drawbacks offers an original and compelling perspective on a history, especially a feminist history, that is most often told in purely ideational terms. Yet at times it confines her, it seems to me, within an overly rationalistic model. For example, she sees white feminists' universalizing claims about gender oppression, at least originally, as largely defensive and "strategic" in their motivation. To combat New Left men's charge that women's interests were "narrower than those of the working class (or of Third World peoples)," and thus unworthy of serious attention, white feminists needed to insist that "gender oppression was as fundamental and widespread as racism and class domination" (188). Similarly women's exodus from the mixed-gender white Left is seen as primarily a response to bad treatment at the hands of male peers, with an emphasis on the push away from the New Left rather than the pull in the form of the increasingly visible incentives of autonomous feminist organizing.
Most simplistically, this could include the considerable psychic rewards to be gained from claiming the mantle of "most oppressed group" and, for some, the key to historic agency [who gets to be the vanguard of history?] '"What a relief it is to discover that we too are oppressed,'" remarked Pam Allen (and quoted in Roth, 197), perhaps the most insightful white feminist regarding the interaction of race and gender. In a larger and more lasting sense, Roth's emphasis on rationality and strategic response downplays, if not ignores, the revelatory (albeit, in retrospect partial) insights--intellectual, political, personal--that came from using the lens of gender to name and comprehend women's subordination. Missing is the emancipatory pull of the emerging movement and the vision of community it offered white women in particular. Similarly, Roth's parsing of men's opposition to feminism is simultaneously original and insightful but ultimately incomplete insofar as male activists appear more as employers with a labor recruitment problem than as people with profound intellectual, political, cultural, material, and emotional investments in their masculinity and the privileges that accompanied it.
FORMAL IMPLICATIONS OF INFORMAL MOBILIZATION: THE LIMITS OF SOCIAL NETWORKS
The important role of social networks in mobilization has long been a central theme in the sociological study of social movements. In this view, social movements do not commonly emerge as aggregations of previously unconnected strangers; rather they build on pre-existing networks of acquaintanceship, whether informal or organizationally based, that allow for rapid communication, social bonding, and mutual accountability. Most famously, the civil rights movement relied on the networks of the black church and of students at historically black colleges, while the women's liberation movement emerged among student. New Left, and civil rights movement veterans. An implicit corollary to this is that the more movements can rely on pre-existing networks, the more spontaneous and self-motivating they will be and the less they will need to depend on infusions of external resources for their inception and functioning. (8)
The greater spontaneity and creativity associated with informal, non-hierarchical groups is often observed and almost as frequently celebrated. (9) The formation and multiplication of consciousness raising groups, the site for the development of so many key Second Wave feminist insights and initiatives, exemplifies a method of informal, network-based social movement mobilization that has typically been seen as more democratic and authentic, as well as more innovative than more bureaucratic organizations such as the National Organization for Women (NOW).
The works discussed here suggest as well the limits of this model in a society divided by race and class. Roth makes this point in her structural analysis of the demographics of U.S. society, while Breines simply observes that "most [young Northern whites] knew no black people" (10), certainly, one might speculate, not as age peers, friends, or political collaborators, as opposed to employees or other racial subordinates.
The problems associated with informal, network-based organizing are exemplified by Bread and Roses' efforts at the antiracist work their socialist feminist commitments mandated. According to Breines, this most often took the form of support actions for the Black Panther Party, which meant, in practice, working with that organization's predominantly male leadership. This approach to interracial cooperation may have been motivated in part, as she notes, by the Panthers' visibility and prestige within the white Left. But it is also likely that the Panthers, as an organized group with a visible leadership structure, offered a visible and available opportunity for political collaboration, whereas the paucity of pre-existing informal ties between black and white women was a significant obstacle to the kind of work with black women that some Bread and Roses members, troubled by the authoritarianism and male chauvinism of the Panther leadership, would have found more ideologically and personally congenial. Nelson's account of more concerted longer-term efforts by white socialist feminists in the Committee for Abortion Rights and against Sterilization Abuse (CARASA) to establish political ties with black and Latina women activists around reproductive rights issues in the early 1980s suggests that a lack of networks continued to be an obstacle to joint work by white feminists and women of color even when accompanied by basic agreement on the issues.
Thus the lack of peer-based networks proved to be crucial in limiting movements so heavily reliant on personal acquaintanceship (and indeed, as Francesca Polletta has pointed out, on the model of friendship as the basis for social movement activism). Although this model proved difficult to sustain even within internally homogenous groups as they grew larger, it was especially problematic insofar as it called upon black and Latina women to embrace the idea of friendship with white women as a precondition for alliance. (10) Yet examination of issue-based politics suggests that political ideas frequently crossed racial, ethnic, and organizational boundaries.
ISSUES VERSUS ORGANIZATIONS
In seeking a more concrete understanding of "how exactly women of color have shaped mainstream feminism" (179), Nelson departs from the more frequently encountered model of the organizational history, here exemplified by Springer and Roth, to craft an issue-based study of reproductive rights activism. Examining the perspectives of white radical feminists, black and Puerto Rican nationalists (both female and male), black feminists, and predominantly white socialist feminists reveals "how essential women of color were to the transformation of the abortion rights movement of the late 1960s and early 1970s into a more inclusive movement for reproductive freedom" (179). In its most expansive formulation, the idea of reproductive choice would come to include not just equitable access to birth control and abortion, not just protection from sterilization abuse, but the demand for basic human-needs provision (adequate income, employment and educational opportunities), such that women could make unconstrained decisions about having and rearing children.
Nelson is especially judicious in identifying and contextualizing the contributions of various political groups and tendencies. For example, despite her obvious commitment to a broader reproductive rights agenda, she gives a cogent and sympathetic explanation of why early white radical feminists, as exemplified by the Redstockings, saw the right to abortion on demand as a central condition for gender equality: "without the fundamental right to control reproduction in every instance, women remain subject to men" (15). As this formulation suggests, the Redstockings conceived reproductive rights as the right not to bear children. "With the ability to terminate a pregnancy would come the freedom to transform traditional womanhood" (27-28). Although cognizant of the radical particularity of this perspective, with its confident universalizing of women's needs, Nelson is equally sensitive to the significance of the Redstockings' insistence that "women needed to be central to any discussion of abortion laws" (15). It was their insistent naming of abortion as a woman's decision, rather than the domain of medical and legal professionals, that helped move the debate out into a broader political arena.
Similarly, in discussing black nationalist characterizations of birth control and abortion as genocidal, Nelson recognizes their profound masculinist bias while simultaneously placing them within a well-founded critique of both contemporary population control programs and of earlier traditions of eugenics directed against the poor and communities of color. The race-based pro-natalism of the early Black Panther Party combined opposition to abortion, birth control, and sterilization with demands for improved healthcare in poor communities. By the mid 1970s, however, Black Panther Party thinking had shifted to support for "safe, legal abortion provision in the black community as part of a larger system of social provision" (108-9), a shift that reflected the growing input of women in the party as well as the influence of black feminists who "combined the fight for abortion rights with an anti-sterilization abuse movement" (108). Panthers ultimately emphasized "that improved access to total health care, a living wage, adequate housing, and subsidized child care all needed to be present before a woman could know she had total control over her fertility" (57). Thus Nelson's account suggests that black feminist ideas may have exerted an influence despite the black nationalist antipathy to autonomous black feminist organizing. (11)
The controversial 1973 sterilization of a black twelve-year-old in a federally funded clinic was an important catalyst for mobilization against sterilization abuse in communities of color, but critiques had been voiced among black women activists as early as 1968 by the National Welfare Rights Organization (70) and in 1970, by Tony Cade Bambara's influential 1970 collection The Black Woman, which "laid the groundwork for a black women's reproductive rights discourse that departed from both black nationalist and mainstream feminist reproductive politics up to that point" (80). Black women, Beal wrote in "Double Jeopardy,"
have the right and the responsibility to determine when it is [in] the interests of the struggle to have children or not to have them. ... It is also her right and responsibility to determine when it is in her own best interests. ... The lack of availability of safe birth control methods, the forced sterilization practice, and the inability to obtain legal abortion are all symptomatic of a decadent society that jeopardizes the health of black women (and thereby the entire Black race). (Quoted in Nelson. 80)
Melding individual and communal self-determination, these black women writers, intellectuals, and activists argued that black women's empowerment was central to the black struggle, in distinct contrast to the black nationalist perspective that made masculine empowerment the centerpiece of racial advance.
Most remarkable is Nelson's identification of Puerto Rican women activists who advanced a comprehensive reproductive rights agenda within the framework of a mixed-gender nationalist organization, New York's Young Lords. "For the first time," she observes, "a nationalist organization, composed of people of color, made an explicitly feminist position central to their political ideology" with a "reproductive rights agenda [that] ... encompassed access to voluntary birth control, safe and legal abortion, a quality public health system, free day care, and an end to poverty" (114). Moreover, the Young Lord's formulation of reproductive rights, based on a "politics of multiple identity positions" (115), became an important influence on the thinking of the predominantly white socialist feminist activists who in 1977 formed CARASA, an organization that combined the defense of abortion rights, opposition to sterilization abuse, and support for welfare rights, subsidized childcare, and reproductive safety in the workplace.
Given the volatile and rapidly shifting arena of 1960s-1970s social movements, Nelson's strategy of writing a history of reproductive rights activism is a particularly fruitful one that enables her to identify a wider range of key players and influential positions, to place them in dialogue with one another, and to show how they contributed to transforming a narrowly defined "movement for the legalization of abortion into a movement for reproductive rights to address the broad health care needs of all women, and particularly the need of women of color and poor women to be free from reproductive abuses" (16-17). Equally important, however, is her recognition of how important feminist practice and theory production could be developed within the framework of a mixed-gender, nationalist organization, a recognition that raises significant questions about the models we use to identify feminist practice more generally.
LOOKING FOR FEMINISM
To the extent that scholarly definitions of authentic feminist practice have been grounded in continued investment in the particular ideological and strategic choices made by an earlier generation of white radical women, they have worked to render alternative organizational forms and activist practices indistinct, if not altogether invisible. Although the activism of black, Latina, Asian American, and white working-class women is increasingly acknowledged, it is too often bracketed, as these authors suggest, rather than prompting a needed rethinking of larger analytic models. At major issue here are questions about how to define Second Wave feminist activism and when and where to look for it.
As noted earlier, Roth responds to what she calls the whitewashing question by asserting a full temporal parallelism. Springer takes a somewhat different tack, differentiating between "the black feminist movement, black feminist organizations, and black feminist activists" (4). For Springer, the movement encompasses not only black feminist organizations, but the analyses, critiques, and polemics that preceded them. Important black feminist texts such as The Black Woman, for example, "provided black women with a very public, if controversial, forum to air grievances" (Springer, 38). This more expansive conception of social movement challenges a white feminist model in which organization, especially the consciousness raising group, was necessarily either coterminous with or prior to theory production and suggests one of the ways the narrative of the white feminist movement has been paradigmatic in defining feminist activism.
Similarly, scholarly model-making, consistent with the political investments and strategic decisions of the first generation of women's liberationists, has tended to identify autonomous, women-only organization as a principal requisite for discerning authentic feminist activism. The effect of this is to equate particular organizational forms and boundary constructions with feminist practice more generally. In doing so we reproduce, rather than interrogate, the political assumptions and practices of forty years ago. Early women's liberationists, for example, organized women-only groups, called themselves feminists, and opposed themselves to "politicos"--women who chose to continue their involvement in mixed-gender Left groups and who were often derided as women who placed loyalty to men over their feminist commitments. Among white women activists, the politicos have been regarded as a tendency that was both short-lived and retrograde. But Roth's, and especially Nelson's, analyses suggest that for black and Latina activists, the feminist-politico opposition is not so easily maintained.
Chicana feminists formed autonomous women-only groups to advance feminist demands within the movement, but continued to see their groups as intrinsically part of the larger Chicano movement rather than as the starting point for a separate, autonomous Chicana feminist identity. The case of the New York-based Young Lords, whose Puerto Rican women leaders, working within a mixed-gender nationalist organization, developed an important formulation of reproductive rights, takes this a step further; yet strict use of the autonomous women's movement standard would preclude their recognition as feminists. By showing the distinctive contributions of these women, Nelson's work suggests the need to distinguish between feminist organizations and feminist practices in order to be able to comprehend the full range of feminist activism in this period. An exemplification of Roth's point that where we look, and using what lens, determines to some degree what we can find; it also suggests that the continued use of autonomous organization as a defining principle of feminism may have had the effect of erasing feminist practices and articulations that occurred in other locations and by other means.
A broader framing of feminist practice will also enable us to see the engagement, indeed the leadership, of women of color within the more bureaucratically organized sphere of equal rights feminism. Early liberal feminist activism grew out of networks formed through professional and political association between white and black women, in the YWCA, under the auspices of the U.S. Department of Labor's Women's Bureau, and especially in progressive labor unions, that is, out of relationships fostered through formal, institutional positions rather than the informal personal ties that characterized radical feminist mobilization. (12) Organizations like the National Women's Political Caucus (NPWC), characterized by Sara Evans as the most diverse of the liberal feminist groups, operated with a conception of formal representation that established regularized means of input through the incorporation of minority caucuses into governance structures and through the early, influential involvement of women of color in planning processes and leadership positions. As a result, Evans observes, ''The leadership of minority women in NOW and NWPC contrasts with the near absence of women of color in early meetings of women's liberation." (13)
The struggle against gender discrimination in employment is a case in point, as MacLean's recent book, Freedom Is Not Enough: The Opening of the American Workplace, makes clear. Her research, a study of both race and gender activism, reveals the disproportionate leadership of black women in developing strategy following the enactment of Title VII of the 1964 Civil Rights Act outlawing workplace discrimination: black women attorneys (Pauli Murray, Eleanor Holmes Norton); economists (Gloria Tapscott Johnson, a longtime researcher for the International Union of Electrical Workers); and policy activists (Phyllis Wallace, the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission [EEOC]'s top researcher, and Aileen Hernandez, a former union activist who was one of the first EEOC commissioners as well as the second president of NOW, following Betty Friedan). MacLean argues that feminist employment activism took a number of forms, including individual complaints to the EEOC, legislation, litigation, and an insufficiently recognized wave of grassroots workplace activism, principally women's caucuses, among both working-class and middle-class women employees. Above all she emphasizes the dynamic, interactive character of these practices, as well as the race and class diversity of their practitioners.
Title VII, for example, did not enact change, but rather galvanized it, serving as a resource for activists and as the starting point for a long process of understanding and organizing around an emergent recognition of employment discrimination as a systemic phenomenon built into the very structure of the labor market. Consider, for example, the emergent understanding of sexual harassment as a form of job discrimination. Black women played a leading role in the development of the very concept, given Carrie Baker's finding that "African-American women brought most of the early precedent-setting sexual harassment cases." Baker speculates that it is precisely their experiences with racially coercive employment relationships that made black women more likely to see sexual harassment as a systemic rather than an individual problem. (14) Here as well, Baker argues, awareness of black women's involvement and of the distinctive insights they brought has not been significantly incorporated into a theoretical model that, as noted earlier, has tended to see black feminism as primarily reactive to trends initiated by white women activists.
The recognition of sexual harassment as a form of discrimination exemplifies the multidirectional processes that characterized feminist activism at its peak in this period. In the midst of a rapidly exploding movement, MacLean and Baker demonstrate, litigation could operate as a social movement practice that both relied on and stimulated more broadly based activism rather than standing apart from it or dampening it down. (15) Again, the experience of black women with the use of litigation in the civil rights movement may help explain their disproportionate influence within and orientation to this mode of feminist activism. It may also be the case that black women's activism focused disproportionately on influencing state policy because of their more visible reliance on state provision, as clients and recipients (thus the welfare rights movement), and because of the fact that black professional women were historically concentrated in government and non-profit employment because of greater discrimination in the private sector, further confirming Roth's point that structural location and previous social movement history are crucial in shaping the targets, character, and location of activism.
Like Nelson's work on reproductive rights, Freedom Is Not Enough is an issue-based history, written on the most ambitious scale of any of these works. MacLean expands our conception of social movement and feminist activism and in doing so enables us to recognize the extensive participation and leadership roles of black women, which would remain invisible within a more constrained conception of activism. Chapter 4, "Women Challenge 'Jane Crow,'" along with a later discussion of the frustrating efforts to open up skilled working-class employment to women, are the most obviously relevant to the focus of this essay, as MacLean argues that "the movement looks more diverse and more attentive to bread-and-butter needs ... when the focus of inquiry turns from the youthful women's liberation activists ... to the older working women who mobilized around issues of employment'' (118). But by identifying "civil rights at work" as her subject of inquiry, a subject that encompasses the black community's development of models for challenging employment discrimination; the crucial importance of this model for other groups; the interactions, both cooperative and rivalrous, among different constituencies, including African Americans, women, and Mexican Americans; and the shifting formulations of conservative response to these mobilizations, MacLean has constructed a truly intersectional history that widens and diversifies our vision of feminist activism by placing it in a much more expansive terrain of struggle.
Taken together, what do these books contribute to the reformulation of our models of feminism during the period of the Second Wave? What resources do they offer us and what kinds of limitations do they continue to reproduce?
Roth and Springer demonstrate the importance of bringing social structural factors more fully into the analysis, not just in terms of identifying the demographic characteristics that signify difference but in looking at how economic, social, and cultural factors united and divided women within the frameworks of everyday life, constructing networks and boundaries and shaping perceptions of individual self-interest and collective affiliation. Yet despite structural divisions, political ideas often crossed back and forth across racial, ethnic, and organizational boundaries, enriched and complicated by the stimulus of different social, cultural, and economic contexts. Issue-based histories, as typified by Nelson's and MacLean's work, are thus one important way to expand the scope of our vision. (16) At the same time it is important to recognize that "sympathies," when unsupported by shared social networks or collective identities, did not, as Roth observes, "dictate association" (171).
Finally, the conceptual models we use to comprehend Second Wave feminism need to encompass a fuller understanding of its character as a mass social movement. Breines argues that although black feminism, especially the black socialist feminism of the Combahee River Collective, "transformed feminist thinking" (149), it "was never a grassroots movement" (133) on a massive scale. But if black feminist organizations remained small, failing to achieve the status of a mass movement in their communities, it is equally the case that the socialist feminism chronicled in such a valuable way by Breines also remained a relatively small tendency, one that arguably paralleled black feminism insofar as its theoretical insights have tended to overshadow its on-the-ground activist accomplishments.
To a significant extent, all the works discussed here confine their gaze to the generation of feminists that emerged directly from, and were politicized within 1960s oppositional movements--white, black, and Latina. But Second Wave feminism became a mass movement, as Nancy Whittier argues in Feminist Generations, through its appeal to a much larger cohort of women who were politicized directly by feminist ideas. Like much else about it, the racial dynamics of that transformation are yet to be fully explored. (17) In expanding our vision of what constitutes feminism, these studies of first generation black, Latina, and white feminisms offer a useful starting point for that effort.
(1.) Sherna Berger Gluck, "Whose Feminism, Whose History? Reflections on Excavating the History of (the) U.S. Women's Movement(s)," in Community Activism and Feminist Politics: Organizing across Race, Class, and Gender, ed. Nancy A. Naples (New York: Routledge, 1998), 33, 54.
(2.) Ibid., 54.
(3.) It should be noted that such sentiments were, for many, a response to the fact that racial difference had most often been used to justify racial hierarchy and denigration, used in the United States and elsewhere to deny basic human rights and used, not that long before, to justify the wholesale slaughter of European Jews and others deemed "different."
(4.) See, for example, Wini Breines, Young, White, and Miserable: Growing Up Female in the Fifties (Boston: Beacon Press, 1992).
(5.) The Combahee River Collective, "A Black Feminist Statement," in The Second Wave: A Reader in Feminist Theory, ed. Linda Nicholson (New York: Routledge, 1997), 65.
(6.) Deborah H. King, "Multiple Jeopardy, Multiple Consciousness: The Context of a Black Feminist Ideology," Signs 14 (Autumn 1988): 42-72.
(7.) See also the earlier statement by Marianne Weathers of the Third World Women's Alliance that "forming a Black women's movement was the correct strategy for building an all-encompassing movement that would liberate men, women, and children, a movement that would be pro-human for all peoples." Quoted in Benita Roth, Separate Roads to Feminism: Black, Chicana, and White Feminist Movements in America's Second. Wave (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 92.
(8.) See, for example, Jo Freeman, "On the Origins of Social Movements," in Waves of Protest: Social Movements since the Sixties, ed. Victoria Johnson and Jo Freeman (Lanham, Md.: Rowman and Littlefield, 1999), 7-24; Aldon D. Morris, The Origins of the Civil Rights Movement: Black Communities Organizing for Change (New York: Free Press, 1984). The Internet now makes movements composed of previously unconnected strangers much more feasible. But while the Internet excels in rapid communication, it's not clear how it allows for more sustained social bonding and mutual accountability.
(9.) Nonetheless, scholars also find that such groups tend to disintegrate more quickly than more explicitly structured, and often better financed, groups do. See especially, Suzanne Staggenborg, "Stability and Innovation in the Women's Movement: A Comparison of Two Movement Organizations," Social Problems 35 (February 1989): 75-92; and Staggenborg, "The Consequences of Professionalization and Formalization in the Pro-Choice Movement," in Waves of Protest, 99-134.
(10.) Francesca Polletta, Freedom Is an Endless Meeting: Democracy in American Social Movements (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002), esp. chap. 6.
(11.) Despite a host of well-known abuses, the Black Panther Party was arguably the most gender-egalitarian of black nationalist organizations. Perspectives on this complex history include Tracye Matthews, "'No One Ever Asks What a Man's Role in the Revolution Is': Gender and the Politics of the Black Panther Party, 1966-1971"; Angela D. LeBlanc-Ernest, '"The Most Qualified Person to Handle the Job': Black Panther Party Women, 1966-1982"; and Regina Jennings, "Gender Dynamics: Why I Joined the Party: An Africana Womanist Reflection," all in The Black Panther Party Reconsidered, ed. Charles E. Jones (Baltimore: Black Classics Press, 1998); and Elaine Brown, A Taste of Power: A Black Woman's Story (New York: Anchor Books, 1994).
(12.) Sara M. Evans, Tidal Wave: How Women Changed America at Century's End (New York: Free Press, 2004), 26, 72; Dorothy Sue Cobble, The Other Women's Movement: Workplace Justice and Social Rights in Modern America (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2004).
(13.) Evans, Tidal Wave, 116. The point here is not to privilege bureaucratically organized liberal feminist organizations but rather to suggest an expansion and diversification of the models we use to identify feminist practices. For such a broadening at the other end of the organizational spectrum, see Anne Enke's analysis of women's more informally organized, often impromptu struggles to control public space as still another form of feminist activism in the 1960s and 1970s in her Finding the Movement: Sexuality, Contested Space, and Feminist Activism (Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 2008).
(14.) Carrie N. Baker, "Race, Class, and Sexual Harassment in the 1970s," Feminist Studies 30 (Spring 2004): 7-27. These included "the first successful Title VII cases in the federal district court (Dianne Williams), the federal courts of appeals (Paulette Barnes) and the Supreme Court (Mechelle Vinson), and the first successful cases involving harassment of a student (Pamela Price), coworker harassment (Willie Ruth Hawkins), and hostile environment harassment at the appellate level (Sandra Bundy)," (9).
(15.) Litigation obviously played a similar role in the civil rights movement throughout much of the twentieth century.
(16.) Nancy Matthews, Confronting Rape: The Feminist Anti-Rape Movement and the State (London: Routledge, 1994) is an earlier example of an issue-based history that does an excellent job of tracing interactions of gender, race, and ethnicity.
(17.) Nancy Whittier, Feminist Generations: The Persistence of the Radical Women's Movement (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1995).
RELATED ARTICLE: BOOKS DISCUSSED IN THIS ARTICLE
The Trouble between Us: An Uneasy History of White and Black Women in the Feminist Movement. By Winifred Breines. New York: Oxford University Press, 2006.
Living for the Revolution: Black Feminist Organization, 1968-1980. By Kimberly Springer. Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 2005.
Separate Roads, to Feminism: Flack, Chicana, and While Feminist Movements in America's Second Wave. By Benita Roth. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2004.
Women of Color and the Reproductive Rights Movement. By Jennifer Nelson. New York: New York University Press, 2003.
Freedom Is Not Enough: The Opening of the American Workplace. By Nancy MacLean. New York: Russell Sage/Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2006.
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|Author:||Clawson, Mary Ann|
|Article Type:||Critical essay|
|Date:||Sep 22, 2008|
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