In the Roaring Twenties, they wanted the right to vote and were willing to fight for it, and won. During World War II they revived the dwindling work force, and their mascot Rosie the Riveter showed them in no uncertain terms that they could do anything that men could. In the Sixties they burned their bras and stopped shaving to show their independence. In the Nineties, they have faded to the background. Feminism is not gone-far from it-but with the exception of Rush Limbaugh's odd comment about "feminazis" and the occasionally surfacing report that they are still being paid less for doing the same jobs as men, they are not in the public view as much as they have been in the past. Perhaps it is because news and media today hate to discuss anything without a catchy buzzword. Maybe it is the politicians fault, for their unwillingness to discuss real issues. Or maybe it is because, as many say, the new generation has dropped the mantle of feminism. Do they enjoy the benefits of their mothers' fight, but lack the desire to continue it? Three young women writers-Sister Souljah, Robin Neidorf, and Sonja Curry-Johnson-discuss, as representatives of their generation, their views of feminism and women.
Sister Souljah, author of No Disrespect, offers a confused and confusing idea of women and feminism. She writes about women in a wide variety of situations, but nowhere is there the sense of consistency that she has when talking about her race. To Souljah, it appears that gender takes a backseat to ethnicity on the identity train. At points in the book, Souljah seems almost to be a resigned misogynist. At the beginning of the chapter titled "Nikki" in which Souljah learns about the depths to which one friend of hers plunges to get what she wants, a man called Slick gives his unfavorable impression of women. "What the hell is a 'nice girl'? I'll tell you what another name for a nice girl is: 'a sly bitch,' because the 'nice girls' be the worst ones." Any feminist in her right mind would be outraged at such a broad, negative statement about her fellow women, but not Souljah. In fact, rather than being angry at Slick, she agrees with him. "As much as I hated to admit it, I agreed with some of the things that Slick was saying. In many ways, Slick was dealing with the real world..." Souljah also has no qualms about stealing men from her fellow women. When she is after Joseph and learns that he his married, it does not even give her pause. She chases him as relentlessly, if not more so, when this information is revealed. After that relationship and another similar one fail to pan out to her satisfaction, Souljah rationalizes a return to the practice of polygamy. "It occurred to me, based on everything that I had experienced, that we African women were, actually, all sharing our men...So I decided that I was willing to share a man with another willing sister as long as it was honest." Unfortunately for Souljah, the man that she chose to share happened to be attached to a woman who did not share her enlightened and progressive view on relationships. Despite her lack of overt feminist activities, when she is discussing lesbianism with Mona, she reveals that she "agreed with [the] conviction that women had an inherently deep connection with and understanding of one another." It would seem, however, that she is reluctant to put this conviction to the test. Her relationships with women do not reflect any "deep connection" or even an understanding. She is disappointed with her mother's descent into the negative stereotypical realm of the "ghetto girl"; she is perplexed by her friend Mona's homosexuality; she is surprised and disturbed by Nikki's virtual prostitution. Her relationships with her girlfriends are brushed aside when there is a man in her life. In her essay "Two Jews, Three Opinions," Robin Neidorf has no problem describing herself as a feminist. In fact, the top four adjectives she uses to describe herself are "feminist," "Jewish," "argumentative," and "slightly neurotic." The problem facing Ms. Neidorf is the difficulty she has in reconciling her religion, famed for its patriarchal structure, and her feminist ideals. This problem was an early concern of Neidorf's. She illustrates her youthful tackling of this problem by describing the presentation she gave at her Bat Mitzvah, the traditional ceremony of coming of age for Jewish girls. She focused her presentation on "the social constraints placed on women in Israel." Her search for a resolution to these two parts of herself did not stop there. She majored in religion in college, having what she describes as "ample time to look for the hidden female in Jewish tradition." What she found instead was less then satisfactory, no surprise from the "culture that invented patriarchy." Rather than look for specific instances in her culture, Neidorf abstracts the Jewish experience into that of living a paradox. It is here that she finds the ability to see "the strength of women within the traditions of the oldest patriarchy in the world." The duality of the Jewish experience extends even to language, which Neidorf separates into the masculine liturgical Hebrew and the feminine vernacular of Yiddish. This dichotomy of languages and experiences leads Neidorf to become what she calls "a lapsed Jew." She has little taste for strict Jewish traditions (going as sacreligiously far as to eat bread during Passover). She accredits the fact that it is easier to be a feminist and a Jew for her generation because unlike earlier days now there is an existing alternative-a middle ground-between Orthodox Judaism and completely assimilated households. It was in such a household, "secular-yet-Jewish," that Neidorf herself grew up in, a perfect spawning ground for her ideals. Besides the paradox, or perhaps stemming from it, Neidorf also shows how the fine Jewish tradition of confrontation helps her. She beams with pride when she speaks of her great-grandmother Rose, as stubborn a Jewish woman as they come. She openly and proudly talks about family dinners which are never complete without "an hours-long, blood-pressure-raising argument as its centerpiece." It is these parts of Jewish life and tradition that she holds onto dearly, and it is for this reason and this reason alone that she seems to identify herself with the Jewish culture in any way. These family arguments were her training , from early in life, to take on the mantle of feminism and to stand up and fight for her ideals. Sonja Curry Johnson's essay "Weaving an Identity Tapestry" deals with her own struggle to make peace with the different parts of her personality and heritage. "As an educated, married, monogamous, feminist, Christian, African American, mother, I suffer from an acute case of multiplicity." As the title of her work suggests, for Curry-Johnson it is the struggle to weave the different and comflicting voices within herself into a harmonious whole that makes her the woman that she is. She says that more often than not, it comes down to a number of her other voices ganging up on her feminist voice. As a wife and a Christian and an African American, her feminist ideals sometimes come under fire. In the spiritual sphere, she questions why it is necessary for women angry at the positions that women hold (or don't hold) are forced to be without spiritual guidance. And the same goes for efforts to end racism, when so much sexism plagues the ranks of those fighting. These institutions and organizations are undermined, says Curry-Johnson, by their disenfranchisement of women. Like Robin Neidorf, Sonja Curry-Johnson seems to have had a grasp of her feminist ideals from an early age. "I read Betty Friedan's Feminine Mystique in high school, but it didn't bring me to a dramatic revelation. In my mind Friedan was only stating a logical fact that should be obvious to any logical being..." To Curry-Johnson, the revelation came when she discovered that the other logical beings in society did not see eye to eye with her on this issue. And that is the problem that feminists today face. We have become a society of buzzwords and catchphrases. With the major glaring legal discrepancies banished from the books, many people assume that the need for a feminist movement is over. Since there are no laws forbidding women to vote or own property, they find it easy to ignore the facts of life for women-the facts about their undermined roles in the workforce, the facts about the media's vision of what a young woman should be that leads so many to eating disorders and suicide. Perhaps what feminists of today need is a good mascot, something easily recognizable by the public, a symbol of how far women still have to go. The majority of the young generation seems to have difficulty thinking that there are any real problems in the world today, which leads them to underestimate the effects of sexism and racism and homophobia and age discrimination and a whole pack of other problems that are still plaguing our society. Young women like Robin Neidorf and Sonja Curry-Johnson have become a dying breed among the new generation. Or if more of them are out there, they seem to have lost their voice. Undoubtedly some young women agree with Sister Souljah, and have no place in their ideals for feminism. But as history shows, these things come in cycles. Perhaps soon a new wave of feminists will find their voice again and right the remaining wrongs, and finally be able to "bring their whole selves to the table." Return to Table of Contents