AMERICAN FEMINIST MANIFESTOS AND THE RHETORIC OF WHITENESS Elliot C. Adams A Dissertation Submitted to the Graduate College of Bowling Green State University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY August 2006 Committee: Ellen Berry, Advisor Lynda Dixon Graduate Faculty Representative John Warren Sue Carter Wood © 2006 Elliot C. Adams All Rights Reserved iii ABSTRACT Ellen Berry, Advisor Using textual analysis, feminist and cultural theories, this study exposed the rhetorical reproduction of whiteness in language, examining how whiteness suffuses linguistic choices that appear to be unbiased. Throughout, it identified where and how whiteness operates as the motivating force in the social power structure of the United States by using certain feminist manifestos as an example of the rhetorical reproduction and performativity of whiteness. Feminist manifestos were chosen as the particular genre of study because while they do represent progress toward social justice in gendered power relations, they do not always or necessarily advance social justice in terms of race, class, or sexuality. Manifestos by white women were shown to include discursive choices that reinforce whiteness, whereas manifestos by women of color critiqued those choices, reminding white feminists that multiple identity factors always simultaneously affect women’s lives. Manifestos by white feminists were organized roughly chronologically, within the standard feminist divisions of First, Second, and Third Waves; this study problematized that historical construction by emphasizing the ways in which, as another function of whiteness, the designation of waves as incorporating certain time periods has been a white feminist tool for structuring history. To show how women of color have always been aware of the multiplicity of issues oppressing women, this study grouped those manifestos together, highlighting their common arguments against white feminist’s singular call for gender equality. Finally, the objective of this iv study was to remind white feminists of their white privilege and to hold them accountable for the ways that such privilege has blinded them to the realities of intersecting oppressions in all women’s lives, not just those of women of color. v ACKNOWLEDGMENTS No project as large as this one represents solely individual effort, and like every writer, I am much indebted to a large number people. Prior to entering the American Culture Studies Program at Bowling Green State University, I taught for five years in the New College Program at the University of Alabama, an undergraduate interdisciplinary program where scholarship, community, and camaraderie were equally valued and practiced among students and faculty. I am pleased to number among my friends there Margaret D’Souza, Lori Pittman, Bernie Sloan, Ed Passerini, Bing Blewitt, Jerry Rosenberg, Marysia Galbraith, and all my student advisees, without any of whom I might not have been able to conceive of my own interdisciplinary degree. Ed and Jerry in particular pushed me to clarify what I wanted from a Ph.D. program, and I thank them for extended conversations about the challenges and rewards of a scholarly life. Since I have been at BGSU, many faculty have, in some way or another, contributed to both this project and to what has been, for me, an unbelievably rich and rewarding doctoral program. These include the amazing women professors with whom I’ve had the opportunity to work: Ellen Berry, Kathy Bradshaw, Sue Carter Wood, Kathy Farber, Jeannie Ludlow, and Lisa (Wolford) Wylam. Other faculty includes Michael Staub, Don McQuarie, Phil Terrie, and John Warren. My committee, comprised of Ellen Berry, Sue Carter Wood, and John Warren, understands that surviving the process is as challenging as generating content, and each has been unfailingly supportive even as they pushed me to work harder than I ever have in my life. One prior member of my committee, Michael Sproule, gave me invaluable guidance before his career took him to another university. The Jeanette C. Sampatacos Scholarships I received during my vi second and third years in the program afforded me time to research, read, and write, and I am especially grateful to the American Culture Studies Program for the award of the Non-Service Fellowship for my fourth year. I am also thankful to the terrific batch of graduate students at York University, Toronto, Ontario, who organized the Program in Social and Political Thought’s Annual conference, which, from April 9-11, 2003, focused exclusively on manifestos. Kate Kaul, Julie Petruzellis, Lyn Thoman, and other participants offered serious critiques and suggestions for an early draft of the rhetorical elements of this document. Participating in this conference, in many ways, helped me to actually conceive of how to begin this writing. Further, I have been blessed with a large and robust group of loyal friends. Of the four-footed variety, my dog Delilah lived to see me begin this program, and my cat Tinker lived through the success of my preliminary exams. Their successors include Shelby and Ezra the wiggle-dogs, and cats Filbert, Mowgli, Tess, Milo, and Lucy, who in their own ways reminded me to maintain a balance of the important things in life, like romping, snuggling, eating regularly, and taking long walks in all kinds of weather. Human friends Ann Pearson and Kim Colburn have been steadfast friends and cheerleaders; Krista Kiessling and Elizabeth Johnson played key instrumental roles in keeping perspective and raising morale; Robin Gunther and Ana Schuber impressed upon me the importance of community and of belly-laughing; Barbara Trainer and Ron Koltnow have had long-term faith in me; Randy James and Laura Manns-James offered technical support and ice cream runs; Christine Drennen provided intellectual and political balance; Kris Medford kept me in stitches on occasions too numerous to count; vii Jen Angel and Jason Kucsma helped me, in their own inimitable way, to understand how scholarship, activism, and integrity all go hand in hand; all of my women coworkers at the Center for Choice proved every day that feminist work is hard, essential, rewarding, soul-satisfying, and life affirming; my mother Jen Coleman expressed continued pride in my work; and my sister Susan Adams was, unfailingly, always just a phone call away. Other friends too numerous to name have contributed in countless invaluable ways. Moreover, I shall remain forever grateful and indebted to my intrepid writing partner Marilyn Yaquinto, who provided fire, energy, serious critique, and plenty of laughter as we slogged through this process together; the focus of this dissertation is the result of many long intense conversations with her. Much that is strong in this dissertation is due to her scholarly pressure; the weaknesses are mine alone. Marilyn has been both a loyal friend and an amazing writing partner, and no word of thanks will ever sufficiently express my gratitude to her. Finally, I dedicate this dissertation to Dr. Alice Parker, whose quiet faith, since 1986, in my potential as a feminist scholar led me to my job at New College, which in turn led me to the American Culture Studies Program at BGSU. viii PREFACE When I first began this project, I had a vague sense, a notion, of what whiteness was, but I would have been hard pressed to provide a definition or instances of it. In the intervening three or four years, as my knowledge base has grown and I have become increasingly sensitive not only to the presence of whiteness but also to the subtle ways that it reinforces social structures in the U.S.—at both the macro and micro levels—it suddenly seems that examples of it abound. I would like to share a couple of stories that not only illustrate my own burgeoning awareness of the presence and workings of whiteness but also show the variety of situations in which it presents itself. In the summer of 2004, I led a workshop at the Allied Media Conference in Bowling Green, Ohio, a conference that brings together anarchists, teachers, producers of indy-media, direct-action activists, street performers, filmmakers, and other kinds of rabble-rousers in the interest of sharing knowledge and information on ways to foster democratic grassroots participation in local, state, and federal politics. My workshop focused on increasing diversity awareness among producers of media: zinesters, radio reporters, grassroots activists, even folks whose primary work and source of income was a mainstream type of job. All of the white folks in the room—and the conference participants were overwhelmingly, though not exclusively, white—were well meaning, open-minded, and concerned about how the whiteness of their products, their perspectives, their angles might be alienating to people of color. They were also a bit stymied about how to change that. We filled the white(!)board with suggestions, most of which ran toward taking individual responsibility for making changes in reporting style, organizing goals, or creating actions to raise public awareness of some of the ways in ix which race affected local politics, activities, or public options. No one suggested that they offer their services to other organizations, owned and operated by people of color, already in place, and I am a little embarrassed to admit that I did not think to propose it either. This incident reminded me, upon later reflection, of a story that teacher and education activist Jonathan Kozol told at a public lecture in Toledo, Ohio, in the fall of 2002: in the 1960s, after a particularly racially-charged event in the town where he lived, feeling the need to make a difference of some kind, he took the bus to the black side of town, found an open church, and approached the pastor, asking, “What can I do to help? What do you need me to do?” Such a simple question, yet it left the power in the hands of the pastor, someone intimately connected with the community, who knew exactly what needed to be done, and who needed intelligent able bodies to it.