The Archival Turn in Feminism: Outrage in Order

Conclusion

Conclusion Outrage in Order In many respects, this book opens where Ann Cvetkovich’s An Archive of Feelings ends. Although Cvetkovich’s study is concerned with queer and lesbian archives rather than feminist archives, the overlaps between our studies are notable; at times they cover similar terrain and even refer to some of the same collections, cultural phenomena, and urban geographies. Yet, as I emphasized throughout this book, much has changed since the publication of Cvetkovich’s book more than a decade ago. In 2003, the archives of women born during and after the rise of the second wave feminist movement were still largely found in cultural products of our own making (zines, films, photographs , and private and eclectic collections). In 2013 much of this material has migrated to institutional archives, including university-based collections. This trend was evidently already apparent to Cvetkovich as she finished writing her book in the early years of the new millennium. She cautions in the concluding chapter: “as more institutionalized archives develop gay and lesbian collections, it will be increasingly important not to forget the more queer collection and strategies of the grassroots archives.”1 What she anticipated or intuited is the 156 / conclusion growth of queer and feminist archives in institutional spaces that may or may not honor the legacies of community-based and volunteer-run collections, including institutions like the Lesbian Herstory Archives. On this account, Cvetkovich further wondered, “Will the two kinds of archives end up competing with one another?”2 In 2013, it is possible to conclude that the legitimate fear about the development of institutional collections imperiling the existence of community-based collections is largely unfounded. My own interviews with donors, archivists, librarians, and scholars suggest quite the opposite may hold true, at least in the case of archival collections with a mandate to collect materials related to feminist and queer women’s histories of struggles. All the professional archivists and librarians I met during the course of researching this book also spend time working in communities; some give talks and workshops related to their respective collections , and others share their time and professional expertise with community-based collections. In addition, the archivists and the librarians I met are aware of and attentive to the importance of noninstitutional archives, such as the Lesbian Herstory Archives. The archivists and librarians I encountered while researching and writing The Archival Turn in Feminism consistently maintained that what they are doing complements but by no means competes with the work of community-based archives. Freedman, for example , expresses her gratitude to librarians and archivists, professional and DIY, who are creating digital zine archives, specifically citing the work of the Queer Zine Archive Project;3 such initiatives take some pressure off her to respond to everyone’s needs in the context of her collection and, more importantly, allow her to create another vital avenue of access to feminist and queer zines.4 Similarly, in reference to the Riot Grrrl Collection at NYU, Darms explains, “I think what we offer is something that can’t be offered in a DIY archive,” but “I also think both things will continue to happen.” As she emphasizes, “These are parallel projects.”5 For this reason, rather than ask whether institutional collections will threaten the survival of collections that may be conclusion / 157 variously characterized as community-based, ad hoc, DIY, and queer, as I conclude this study, I am faced with a different set of questions than scholars, archivists, collectors, and activists faced in 2003. How might the process of putting our outrage in order—collecting and ordering the cultural and intellectual products of resistance movements—remain deeply attached to the communities of practice from which they emerge as they migrate to established archives? How might the archivization of activist movements in university-based collections, especially at privately funded institutions, continue be understood and experienced as parallel and even allied projects to community-based, volunteer-run, DIY initiatives? If activist-based collections housed in private university archives are in parasitic relation to their hosts, can they, over time, maintain such a relationship or will they eventually become inculcated by broader institutional mandates? What’s at stake for knowledge production and activism when we foster these relationships? I appreciate that some readers of this book may cynically conclude that the feminist collections at the center of this study have developed at private universities because we now live...