The Personal Is Political, the Past Has Potential, and Other Thoughts on Studying Women's Literature\-\-Then and Now

My love of literature led me to wonder about the lives of women who wrote for publication and about the ways in which women were or were not depicted in literature. Literature, then, was one reason why I became associated with women's studies. Like others of my generation, I wanted women's writings to be part of the literature curriculum. But, first, I had to learn what women had actually written, what those women had written about and why, and what were the best methods by which we could best evaluate their writings. That in and of itself was a lifetime project, but added to that was the problem of how to make available to others the writings and the writers that I found inspirational, instructive, and absolutely necessary to understanding literature, history, and myself.

Women's studies gave me the answer. When my other friends or colleagues did not see the relevance of my focus upon gender and sexual ethics, I met other women who were determined to make the studies about and by women integral to the education system. I had been fortunate that my experiences with racism and religious bigotry had been mixed. I knew racism, and most of my early life was lived in a racially segregated city in the North. But there had been just enough desegregated experiences that I had also been able to form strong friendships and to witness striking similarities to women of other cultures. It was easy for me to join forces with those who appeared to be committed to the elimination of racism, sexism, and any other ism that unfairly and categorically prevented individuals from life with dignity, liberty with responsibility, and happiness ethically pursued. I was quick to denounce and to try to dismantle traditions, institutions, and ordinances that relegated some groups to inferior positions and others to superior merely because of their color, contour, or country of origin.

With women's studies came my personal involvement in what was then known as "The Women's Movement." One of the mantras of "The Women's Movement" was that "The personal is political." I recall believing this wholeheartedly, though I know that what it meant to me was not what it meant to many of my colleagues. For example, I was not one of those who participated in consciousness-raising sessions, and I was not one who spent long hours debating the political implications of shaving one's legs. I believed there was a difference between one's private life and her professional one, and I did not believe my personal life was a legitimate topic for public scrutiny.

Indeed, my defiance and my idealism had not been birthed through "The Women's Movement." My parents, my teachers, and the elders of my community had inculcated in me the basic principles that made participation in "The Women's Movement" relatively easy. I had no Cinderella complex, no penis envy, and no author's anxiety. I assumed that I would get married and have children. But, like my mother and the mothers of my friends, I would also have a profession, a job, or, at least, an income-producing hobby. I would join the PTA, do volunteer work, write and direct church pageants and ceremonial events, and generally function as a valued and valuable member of my neighborhood and social circle. I had been told over and over again that "Every tub must sit on its own bottom" and that I was not to rely on anyone else to give my life meaning and purpose. My elders taught me, as they did us all in my community, that I was to accept the consequences of my actions and to expect others to do likewise. But, they also told me, "to whom much is given, much is required." I was gifted and talented, they told me, so I had more of a responsibility to help make the world better for everyone, but especially for those who looked like me.

As a high school student, I...