In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

4 Global Civil Society and the Local Costs of Belonging: Setting up a Crisis Center in Tver’ “You have to be very patient,” the fox answered. “First you’ll sit down a little way away from me, over there, in the grass. I’ll watch you out of the corner of my eye, and you won’t say anything. Language is the source of misunderstandings . But day by day, you’ll be able to sit a little closer . . . ” Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince By early April, contrary to the Fox’s advice, I was quite impatient. Nine months into my ¤eldwork in Tver’, I was frustrated that I’d not done anything participatory . Chastened by the unsatisfying experience of writing the UNIFEM grant, I felt that my collaborative intent had failed. On the other hand, other aspects of my ¤eldwork were going swimmingly. It was easy, almost too easy, to gain data about international support for women’s activism. Over the last months, I had attended numerous seminars, meetings, and conferences in Moscow and other cities; I had an increasingly sophisticated grasp of the ways things worked—of donor priorities and foundation mandates—and I had a wide range of acquaintances within NGO circles.I had traveled to other cities and met with other provincial groups and I had seen how they ®ourished, drawing on donor support in often unexpected ways. I was particularly excited by what I had seen of the new women’s crisis centers and what donor support offered them. Yet despite my best efforts, this all seemed to be taking place separately and apart from my work with Zhenskii Svet. Participant observation had enabled me to gather rich data; I felt sure that it would be of value to my friends, yet I found it strangely dif¤cult to share it with them. It was hard to get them to come and see for themselves,since they did not have the time or money to travel,often at short notice, to attend events in other cities. While I was able to drop everything ,they had responsibilities that kept them in Tver’.In between Zhenskii Svet meetings, the women were busy hustling to make ends meet, engaged in elaborate informal economic arrangements—exchanging a child’s coat for a medical consultation, vegetables for care. Caught in the midst of my own contradictions—the internal contradiction of participant observation—I was growing increasingly frustrated with the group. Upon my arrival in the city, I had been thrown off by the informality of Zhenskii Svet, baf®ed by its lack of structure and coherence, and the erratic way in which it met. In so many ways, it de¤ed my expectations of what a “group” should look like—there was no membership, no regular meeting place, no phone number or address or clear division of labor. I had come to be captivated and intrigued by these same qualities; as I got to know the history and activities of the group I came to understand that it was an extremely creative response to local conditions. Yet now that there was clamor for change among group members , I was exasperated again. How would we formulate new plans, and who would lead and undertake them? Although quick to voice their discontents, the women in the group tended to defer to Valentina and did not take steps themselves . After one morning of intensive ¤eldnote writing, I left my apartment to get some air. I set off down the main pedestrian street, past the kiosks that sold newspapers, past the vegetable stands and past the “gypsies” (Roma) buying gold outside the jewelry store on the main street, and found myself wandering into Dom Moda (House of Fashion). This formerly monolithic Soviet-era store was now divided into different departments, each with a very different feel. On the ground ®oor were brightly colored Russian scarves, hosiery, and knitwear, while upstairs there were racks of imported, mostly German clothing. Like many local women, I used to come in to browse, to gaze admiringly at the out¤ts on the racks. This store, like other privately owned stores in town, felt like a museum: one could look, but the items displayed were out of grasp. This form of shopping made for a pleasant if ironic kind of recreational activity. To my surprise I saw Valentina, who was doing exactly the same thing. She told me that she had just come out of a wonderful...

Share