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FEMINIST PEDAGOGY
A National Women's Studies Association fournal Reader

OT HER BOOKS I N TH E SERIES

Diversity and Women's Health,

edited by Sue V. Rosser
Feminist Pedagogy
Looking Back to Move Forward

EDITED BY Robbin D. Crabtree

David Alan Sapp
Adela C. Licona

The Johns Hopkins University Press

Baltimore
© 2009 The Johns Hopkins University Press
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Contents

Introduction: The Passion and the Praxis of

Feminist Pedagogy r
RO BBIN D. CRABTREE, DAVID ALAN SAPP,
AND ADELA C . LICONA

PART I Feminist Pedagogical Theory and Praxis

r. Authority 23
DALE M . BAUER

2. Resisting "the Dominance of the Professor": Gendered

Teaching, Gendered Subjects 27
PAMELA L. CAUGHIE A ND RICHARD PEARCE

3. Scholarship on the Other Side: Power and Caring in Feminist

Education 40
REBECCA ROPERS·HUI LM AN

4. Beyond Essentialisms: Team Teaching Gender and

Sexuality 59
DEBBIE STORRS AND JOHN MIHELICH

5. Not for Queers Only: Pedagogy and Postmodernism 80

SAL JO HNSTO N

6. Feminist Pedagogy, Interdisciplinary Praxis, and Science

Education 94
MARALEE MAYBERRY AND MARGARET N. REES

PART 11. Pedagogical Practices in the Feminist Classroom

7. Small Group Pedagogy: Consciousness-Raising in
Conservative Times 117
ESTELLE B. FREEDMAN

8. Bringing Different Voices into the Classroom 138

JULIA T. WOOD
VJ CONTENTS

9. Teaching about Domestic Violence: Strategies for

Empowerment 150
SAUND R A GARDNER

ro. The Shift from Identity Politics to the Politics of Identit y: Lesbian
Panels in the Women's Studies Classroom 159
MARY MARGARET FONOW AND DEB I A N MARTY

11. The Protest as a Teaching Technique for Promoting Feminist

Activis1n 171
SUZANNA ROSE

12. Women's Studies on Television? It's Time for Distance

Learning 176
ANNIS H. HOPKINS

PART 111. Race Matters: Intersectional Analyses of Classroom Dynamics

13. "I Was [So] Busy Fighting Racism That I Didn't Even Know I Was
Being Oppressed as a Woman!" Challenges, C hanges, and
Empowerment in Teaching about Women of Color 195
LILI M. KIM

14. Negotiating Tensions: Teaching about Race Issues in Graduate

Feminist Classrooms 209
ANN E DONADEY

PART IV. Bibliographies

15. Feminist Pedagogy: A Selective Annotated Bibliography 233
LORI A. GOETSCH

16 . Dynamics of the Pluralistic Classroom: A Selected

Bibliography 240
STEPHANIE RIGER, CARRIE BREC KE, AND EVE WIEDERHOLD

List of Contributors 257

Index 261
FEMINIST PEDAGOGY
Introduction: The Passion and the Praxis
of Feminist Pedagogy

ROBBIN D. CRABTREE, DAVID ALAN SAPP,

AND ADELA C. LICONA

The term feminist pedagogy refers to a particular philosophy of and set

of practices for classroom-based teaching that is informed by feminist
theory and grounded in the principles of feminism . But such a seemingly
straightforward definition does little to illuminate the history, practices,
influences, and complexities of feminist pedagogy. Both words in the
term have multiple meanings.
Perhaps no word and few concepts have been as contested as femi-
nism. At once a seemingly narrowly gendered term and a comprehensive
almost-totalizing philosophy, feminis1n encompasses ideas about the
importance of women and women's experiences, histories of social move-
ments seeking gender equality, a philosophy of humanism that works
as a lens for understanding the entire human condition (not just that of
women), and a critical analytical method that interrogates the relation-
ships among gender, sex/uality, race, class, the environment, and power,
often using misogyny as an organizing principle to explain inequalities
and injustices in these realms. All of these understandings of feminism,
and the multidisciplinary literatures that explicate them, inform femi-
nist pedagogy.
Similarly, the term pedagogy, still unfamiliar to many practicing teach-
ers, refers broadly to the art, craft, and science of teaching. Of course, this
vague definition does not even hint at the politics of knowledge that are
critical to understanding the practice and outcomes of teaching, the roles
of educational institutions in maintaining social orders, or the complex
power and identity dynamics in any given classroom. Commonly under-
stood to be components of pedagogy are (1) curriculum, or the knowledge
and content that are taught; (2) instruction, or the preferred modes of teach-
ing and prevalent interaction patterns in teaching and learning contexts;
and (3) evaluation practices, or the methods for, criteria used in, and val-
ues that guide the assessment of student performance. In addition to
these components, A. Luke and Luke (1994) define pedagogy in relation
to culture, focusing on the ways schools have been sites where socia l or-
ders are organized, replicated, and reified. Pedagogy, it seems, is as much
about social hierarchies and the ideological and political dimensions of
education as it is about classroom practices. Feminist pedagogy, then,
can be seen as a movement against hegemonic educational practices that
tacitly accept or more forcefully reproduce an oppressively gendered,
classed, racialized, and androcentric social order.
2 FEMINIST PEDAGOGY

Although the terms feminist and pedagogy are both contested in the
academic literature, consensus has emerged over the past few decades
that, as feminists, we must critically engage in dialogue and reflection
not only about what we teach but also about how we teach. Feminist
pedagogy is a set of assumptions about knowledge and knowing, approaches
to content across the disciplines, teaching objectives and strategies, class-
room practices, and instructional relationships that are grounded in crit-
ical pedagogical and feminist theory. It is an ideology of teaching as
much as it is a framework for developing particular strategies and meth-
ods in the service of particular objectives for learning outcomes and so-
cial change.
The actual practices of feminist scholars and women's studies teach-
ers in relation to these definitions of feminist pedagogy are in need of
continued study. In 1992, for example, Julie Brown published a report for
which she surveyed two hundred teachers affiliated with women's stud-
ies programs. The results indicated that at least half of the respondents
usually lecture in class, with only an eighth of them using student-
facilitated group discussion and other participatory pedagogical strate-
gies in their teaching repertoires. Her analysis also indicated that most
of the teaching practices related to disciplinary norms, rather than hav-
ing any clear connection to the teacher's feminist principles. One re-
spondent actually questioned the relevance of the survey, inti1nating
that since she wasn't teaching a women's studies course that semester,
there would be no way for her to practice feminist pedagogy. Other re-
sponses were even more troubling, with an eighth of respondents indi-
cating that there is "no such thing" as feminist pedagogical theory, and
others questioning the legitimacy of studying pedagogy at all, in one
case claiming that "people study pedagogy because they can't handle
real theory" Ip. 59).
Though published in the early 1990s, this survey points to a general
lack of understanding of feminist pedagogy and the presence of attitudes
and classroo1n practices that are not consistent with feminist principles.
It is particularly noteworthy that these misunderstandings were preva-
lent among self-proclaimed feminists and women's studies teachers.
Given Brown's findings, it should not be surprising that a cursory pe-
rusal of rnore contemporary articles and book chapters that use the co-
terms feminist pedagogy reveals discussion that variously focuses on
curriculum reform, analysis of girls' and women's experiences in educa-
tional environments, teaching about women, teaching feminist ideas,
and teaching done by self-identified feminists, as well as feminist con-
cerns with the processes of teaching and learning. We would argue that
merely teaching a women's studies or women-focused course or identify-
ing personally as a feminist is not an indicator of feminist pedagogy.
Thus, it is necessary to explicate the characteristics of fe1ninist peda-
INTRODUCTION 3

gogy in all its complexities to understand how the rubber of feminist

theory and its principles hits the road in our teaching practices, class-
room dynamics, and student-teacher relationships.

Roots of Feminist Pedagogy

One important stream of feminist writing about pedagogy brings a femi-
nist perspective to the analysis and practice of what is known as critical
pedagogy (or liberatory pedagogy, using Paulo Freire's original term).
Feminist pedagogy has much in common with Freire's (2000) ideas about
education and classroom practices, while also bringing an important cri-
tique to his work (and that of his intellectual disciples, most of whom are
men, such as Henry Giroux 1997; Peter McLaren 2000; and Ira Shor
1996). Like Freire's libratory pedagogy, feminist pedagogy is based on as-
sumptions about power and consciousness-raising, acknowledges the ex-
istence of oppression as well as the possibility of ending it, and fore-
grounds the desire for and pri1nary goal of social transformation. However,
feminist theorizing offers important complexities such as questioning
the notion of a coherent social subject or essential identity, articulating
the 1nultifaceted and shifting nature of identities and oppressions, view-
ing the history and value of feminist consciousness-raising as distinct
from Freirean methods, and focusing as much on the interrogation of the
teacher's consciousness and social location as on the student's (see, for
example, Weiler 1991).
Other roots of and important philosophical influences on feminist
pedagogy can be found in the progressive education movement in the
United States (see the writings of John Dewey 11916], for example), which
emphasized experiential learning, social responsibility, and a reclama-
tion of the civic mission of education in a democracy. While there are
links to other social and educational move1nents, our review of the cen-
tral characteristics of feminist pedagogy reinforces the idea that it is a
unique approach with its own set of assumptions about teaching and
learning, a co1nmitment to certain kinds of classroom practices and in-
teractions, and a set of explicit objectives, all of which are grounded in
some kind of gender-based analysis of power, social structures, and edu-
cational contexts.
The growing body of literature on feminist pedagogy has posed and
atte1npted to answer the following questions: What do we teach and
why? How do we teach and why? H ow does what and how we teach im-
pact our students and our communities (e.g., Munson Deats and Tallent
Lenker 1994)? Typical topics explored in this literature include the re-
vamping of curricula and courses to focus more on women's lives and
experiences (e.g., Laskey Aerni andMcGoldrick 1999) and the exploration
4 FEMINIST PEDAGOGY

of approaches to teaching co1nmon women's studies courses, such as the

introductory (often general education) wo1nen's studies course or courses
on women writers, wo1nen's history, or gender/sexuality. Much of this
literature has focused on course content primarily and secondarily on is-
sues arising from classroom dyna1nics, such as ambivalence about teacher
authority, student resistance, and diversity issues, with a tertiary con-
cern for connections between classroom teaching and community action
(e.g., Cohee, Daumer, Ke1np, Krebs, Lafky, and Runzo 1998; Holland and
Blair 1995; C. Luke 1996; Maher and Thompson Tetrault 2001; Mayberry
and Rose 1999).
Feminist pedagogy is more than teaching about women or teaching
feminist perspectives. Feminist teaching is a reexamination and reimag-
ining of what happens in any classroom, indeed of the relationships be-
tween teachers, students, education, and society. In the following sec-
tion, we offer a brief discussion of several of the most prominent tenets of
feminist pedagogy.

Characteristics of Feminist Pedagogy

Feminist pedagogy arises from feminist social practice (Cohee et al.
1998). Consciousness-raising, social action, and social transformation
are explicit goals of feminist pedagogy that are rooted in the desire to
transform thought into action. Based in the principles of feminism and
the material history of feminist organizing and consciousness-raising,
then, feminist teaching is predicated on ideas about e1npowering indi-
viduals within a larger project of social change. As such, fe1ninist peda-
gogy explicitly acknowledges and foregrounds the undeniable history
and force of sexism and heterosexism in society.
Fe1ninist pedagogy emphasizes the epistemological validity of personal
experience, often connected to notions of voice and authority. Through a
critique of the ways traditional scientific and academic inquiry have ig-
nored or negated the lived experiences of women, feminist pedagogy ac-
knowledges personal, communal, and subjective ways of knowing' as valid
forms of inquiry and knowledge production. Feminist pedagogy questions
the ways traditional knowledge production and received knowledge serve
particular interests and social configurations of power through the sys-
tematic exclusion or oppression of particular classes of people. It empha-
sizes accountability for the use of knowledge (see, most notably, Belenky,
Clinchy, Goldberger, and Tarule 1986; see also Lather 1991).
Fe1ninist teaching uses an ethic of care (Gilligan 1982); some have
even used the word love (see, for example, hooks [1994, 1995, 1996L who
explores the erotic nature of teaching, and Wallace's [1999] psychoanaly-
sis of practicing feminist pedagogy). Feminist teachers demonstrate sin-
INTRODUCTION 5

cere concern for their students as people and as learners and communi-
cate this care through treating students as individuals, helping students
make connections between their studies and their personal lives, and
guiding students through the process of personal growth that accompa-
nies their intellectual development. This process includes a special care
for female students, inside and outside of the classroom, and a commit-
1nent to advancing and improving the educational experiences, profes-
sional opportunities, and daily lives of women.
Feminist pedagogy is marked by the development of nonhierarchical
relationships among teachers and students and reflexivity about power
relations, not only in society but also in the classroom. The vision of
egalitarian and empowering communities of learners who share a sense
of mutual and social responsibility manifests itself in participatory class-
room structures and dynamics, collaborative evaluation, and respect for
individuals and differences (Shrewsbury [1987b] takes up these issues as
her primary focus; see also Crabtree and Sapp 2003).
Critical analysis of the educational environments within which teach-
ing takes place is likewise important, including recognizing the ways
schools and classrooms have been hostile environments for girls and
women and monitoring the evolving status of female students at all lev-
els of education (e.g., Munson Deats and Tallent Lender 1994). Feminist
teachers also engage actively in the exploration of how who we are within
these environments necessarily impacts what and how we teach. This
approach includes an explicit commitment to address the intersections
of gender, race, ethnicity, class, and sexuality not only in the content of
the discipline but also in the dynamics of the classroom (see Macdonald
and Sanchez-Casal 2002). Teachers who subscribe to a feminist pedagogi-
cal approach develop teaching strategies that resist reinscribing domi-
nant cultural notions about gender, race, sexuality, and class and deliber-
ately problematize essentialist terms and constructs that have historically
marginalized individuals and groups that have functioned to oppress a
full range of human experience.
There is an explicit attempt to name and reflexively shift the dynam-
ics of power and powerlessness in the classroom and in the complex re-
lationships among students (and groups of students), between students
and teachers, and as part of this process, to understand the experiences
of and constraints on differently situated teachers in the complex web
of institutional power structures (also see Maher and Thompson Tet-
reault [2001] for an analysis of gender and race privilege in the classroom
context).
Fe1ninist pedagogy links classroom-based teaching with opportunities
for application in communities through social action using strategies such
as service-learning, feminist-action research, and other methods of en-
gaged and community-based learning. This tenet is about recognizing the
6 FEMINIST PEDAGOGY

links between the personal, including the individual's educational expe-

rience, and the political, including working to understand and change
the collective social reality. The phrase "the personal is political" vali-
dates the political nature of women's individual experiences and voices
and acts as a reminder t h at theory and intellectual inquiry have a re-
sponsibility to society (e.g., Novek 1999).
With respect to objectives and out comes, feminist pedagogy seeks not
only to enhance students' conceptual learning but al so to promote
consciousness-raising, personal growth, and social responsibility. It of-
fers teachers and students alike the intellectual skills to expose ideology
and complicate the concept of authority, t h at is, to participate in contest-
ing and realigning gender politics in society. It provides teachers and
students with a language of critique that a llows them to analyze differ-
ences among social groups and how they are constructed within and
outside the acade1nic setting, as well as their own roles in various forms
of domination, subordination, hierarchy, and exploitation.
Feminist classrooms create environments where students and teach-
ers examine relationships of power in culture, where dichotomies of either-
or can be rejected and replaced with the ability to problematize common-
sense viewpoints, discover similarities within difference, and learn to
understand phenomena through multiple lenses (Shrewsbury 1987b). It
should not be superfluous to add that feminist pedagogy is not simply about
learning the theory and applying it in a classroom, but it is also, more im-
portant, a way of living both professionally and personally.
Despite compelling arguments in support of practicing feminist peda-
gogy, many teachers find that putting feminist theory into practice raises
a number of pedagogical challenges and dilemmas [Crabtree and Sapp
2003). These, in turn, create a gap between what feminist teachers be-
lieve is the best educational approach and what they actually manage to
practice in their everyday experiences. Those challenges bring additional
political and professional consequences for teachers who practice femi-
nist pedagogy, which could prove detrimental to their success in the
academy, a social context where innovative teaching is often neither val-
ued nor rewarded. The articles selected for inclusion in this volu1ne ex-
plore the characteristics of feminist pedagogy and reveal many of the
ambivalences, contradictions, and risks inherent in feminist pedagogical
practice.

The Volume: Feminist Pedagogy in Action

This volu1ne brings together theoretical and empirical articles, critical
essays, and personal reflections on classroom practices published in The
NWSA Journal from 1989 to 2002. The collection illustrates trends in
INTRODUCTION 7

the development of feminist pedagogical theory, a range of applications

in classrooms across many disciplines including in women's studies
classrooms, a variety of teaching contexts, and the process of teacher re-
flection on methods of putting pedagogical theories into action (or praxis)
that accompanies feminist thinking about teaching. Among the hun-
dreds of articles published in The NWSA Journal since its founding,
there have been dozens that have explored some aspect of teaching. This
reveals much about feminist scholars and feminist scholarship; that is,
teaching is central to our lives and our politics. But instead of choosing
articles that explicated approaches to teaching in this or that discipline,
or to teaching in this or that educational context, we decided to focus on
articles that explicitly investigated teaching practices and processes with
a preference for articles that both explored intellectually and revealed
narratively an engaged feminist teacher praxis, or the cycles of grounded
theorizing, action/experience, and critical reflection that are the hall-
marks of feminist teaching.
Although this volume is organized into discrete sections, the ideas
explored in this collection of essays are anything but separate. Articles
that purported to be about feminist and pedagogical theory, for example,
inevitably drifted productively into stories from classroo1ns and authors'
revelations about themselves as teachers and as feminists. Similarly, ar-
ticles that offer classroom strategies and practical advice inevitably con-
nected these back to theory, to feminist activism, and to the embodied
personal narratives of teaching. So while this messiness made identify-
ing an organizing principle for the collection challenging, it also reflects
accurately and honestly the nature of feminism itself: the personal is po-
litical is theoretical is pedagogy is activism is teacher praxis is personal.

Part I: Feminist Pedagogical Theory and Praxis

The articles included in the first section center on theorizing fe1ninist
pedagogy. While we believe the project of theorizing a feminist pedagogy
is the foremost concern of the authors in this section, there is also in-
cluded much that is personal, both in the examples from the authors'
own classrooms, and in the reflexive structure employed in many of the
essays.
Dale Bauer's (1990) chapter, "Authority," originally appeared in a sec-
tion of The NWSA fournal called "Feminist Bywords," offering short
treat1nents on terms that had become foundational to feminist inquiry.
We include Bauer's article because it engages directly and succinctly
with one of the most central concepts and dilem1nas in feminist peda-
gogy. Whether related to the struggle of women, other feminists, and
members of historically underrepresented groups to be recognized as
"authorized speakers," or in the dance/danger inherent in reimagining
8 FEMINIST PEDAGOGY

teacher authority in the feminist classroom, this issue is universally

faced by feminist teachers and scholars. Bauer's piece reminds us that
the struggle to gain and share authority in our own classrooms (not to
1nention in our departments and relationships more generally) has been
the subject of 1nuch debate and controversy in feminist writing over the
decades.
Bauer concludes her chapter ,1/ith a challenge to all of us: "Why not
think of claiming authority as an emancipatory strategy?" Ip. 25). While
such a strategy is familiar in the sense of authoring, or writing from a
place of authority, it remains troubled in the context of the feminist
classroom, where women's authority is wrought with layers of complexi-
ties, from the question of women's authority to teach, to the ways stu-
dents challenge a female professor's land particularly a feminist profes-
sor's) authority, to a teacher's own struggles with how to create an
empowering classroom for students-ostensibly by reducing teacher
authority-even as she is trying to gain legitimacy in her institutional
culture. As Bauer's brief 1nusings on authority establish, and many of the
other essays in this volume continue to explore, the question about and
controversy over notions of authority remain extremely salient.
The chapter by Pamela Caughie and Richard Pearce (1992) continues
the discussion of teacher authority, as the authors explore resisting the
"dominance of the professor." This article was originally written as a
dialogue, using the two professors' approaches to teaching the writings
of Virginia Woolf, in particular A Room of One's Own. The main point
of the dialogue (and our reason for including their essay) emerges about
two-thirds of the way through the piece as the authors contemplate the
relationship between narrative authority and classroom authority. Woolf
provides an apropos context for exploring this relationship. Given that
one author is a woman and the other a man, the dialogue explores the
ways the gender of the teacher affects how feminist pedagogues' manage-
1nent of classroom authority is an extension of their investment in/with
institutional authority.
One disturbing, though not at all surprising, revelation is that male,
and perhaps so,ne female, students tend to accept feminist ideas more
readily from male professors than from female ones. While this assertion
remains ripe for empirical inquiry, the dialogue leads the two authors
through a valuable discussion, de,nonstrating individual teacher praxis
as well as useful theorizing about teacher authority. The authors con-
clude that one way of resisting the dominance of the professor is to make
the pedagogy part of the class and to self-reflexively subvert these gender
polarities by explicitly interrogating them with each other and the stu-
dents. Th is article illustrates that in feminist classrooms, the pedagogy
we use is (or should be) as much a part of course content as the disciplin-
ary subject ,natter.
INTRODUCTION 9

Becky Ropers-Huilman's (1999) chapter completes the discussion about

teacher authority. She uses the threads of power and caring that have
been woven throughout the literature on feminist pedagogy to analyze
three scenes from her own classroom. Her interrogation of a teacher's
choices about the use of power and the complex process of empowering
students is evocative. More than the previous two chapters, this one be-
gins with an explicit discussion of what it means to engage in feminist
pedagogy, reviewing what had become known by 1999 as the literature of
feminist pedagogy. She then reveals the challenges therein, in part by
situating her reflections in a framework of poststructuralism. She notes
that "a feminist poststructural approach to education would involve a
conscious effort to recognize and utilize the positions that one embodies
as a participant in feminist education, with the caveat that we cannot
always know the effects of the actions that we choose" (p. 51).
Ropers-Huilman illustrates her theoretical and philosophical discus-
sion with reflections on three teaching experiences at different points in
her career, concluding with a summary of the lessons she learned.
Ropers-Huilman reminds us that, while the literature on feminist peda-
gogy is useful, it does not always provide easy or certain answers about
putting it into action.
Debbie Storrs and John Mihelich (1998) then take up another of the
dilemmas that have become so important to feminist thinking, teach-
ing, and activism. In their chapter, "Beyond Essentialisms," the authors
confront the problem of who should teach what to whom. They question
the premise that only those who have experienced gender oppression
(and their unstated assumption is that this group includes only women)
have the knowledge and right to teach about it. Storrs and Mihelich then
dismantle this premise, arguing that "a politics of experience essential-
izes both students and instructors and presumes singular notions of
identity" (p. 64).
The authors argue that the absence of male instructors in most wom-
en's studies curricula implicitly reifies the status of males as the invisi-
ble center, as the genderless norm against which women are studied as
deviant, as "other." Moreover, they note that this structural reality and
conceptual problem typical in most women's studies programs, and thus
reinforced for students and teachers alike, results in male professors' be-
ing excused from taking responsibility for their gender privilege in wom-
en's studies courses. It also denies men the opportunity to teach topics
that are personally relevant to them and students the opportunity to ex-
plore these issues with a variety of differently situated faculty members.
Using their team-taught course as an illustrative case study, the authors
show how their interactions with each other become implicated in the
course content in positive as well as problematic ways, and how they de-
bunk essentialized constructions of the "nature" of gender and sexuality
10 FEMINIST PEDAGOGY

as well as assumptions about who can and should teach what. There is
plenty in this article to evoke debate among readers, and it is interesting
to view it in the context of the chapter that occurs previously to it in this
volume, as the authors attempt to neither claim nor forfeit authority
based solely on their individual identities or experiences.
A chapter originally published in 1995 by sal johnston takes up simi-
lar problems in the context of teaching a course on sexuality in a reli-
giously conservative environment. In "Not for Queers Only," johnston
develops a postmodern feminist pedagogy, where it is essentialist no-
tions about sexuality, rather than about gender, that are deconstructed
and reminds us that teaching is activism, disrupting yet another unpro-
ductive distinction in/between our professional and personal lives, espe-
cially when we are teaching in reactionary contexts. Another argument
johnston makes and demonstrates persuasively is that theory must affect
our pedagogy. As some of the previous authors have, johnston effectively
questions the feminist epistemic privilege granted to experience and in-
stead argues for a politics of affinity and action. Thus, according to john-
ston, all students are invited to claim/ learn (or minimally understand)
antioppression stances even for groups and issues that are not "theirs."
The chapter contains many concrete examples of how postmodern
and feminist theories inform choices about and approaches to course
content, as well as the teacher's own behavior in the classroom and the
kinds of assignments the teacher assigns and grading the teacher does.
We are reminded that ''if we want our pedagogical practices to resist het-
erosexism [or fill in any other oppressive system!, then we must avoid
rearticulating the logic that underlies it" (p. 91 ). This chapter goes a long
way in addressing critics of postmodernism for its apparent apolitical
stance, and johnston concludes that the exigency of questioning and ana-
lyzing essentialist constructions of sexuality, gender, and race is directly
related to the fact that the social and political agenda of the Right is de-
pendent on them.
The final chapter in this section, by Maralee Mayberry and Margaret
Rees (1997), demonstrates the integration of most of the issues raised so
far: the ways feminist principles challenge traditional episte1nology, the
goals of women's studies programs and in particular their interdisciplin-
arity, the theory and practice of feminist pedagogy, and the role of teacher
praxis, all in the context of a feminist critique of science and science ed-
ucation. The title of the article is exactly what the article is and does:
"Feminist Pedagogy, Interdisciplinary Praxis, and Science Education."
There is plenty of pragmatic advice in this essay for readers interested in
reimagining science instruction from a feminist perspective, and it is
explicit in its emphasis and very well grounded in feminist pedagogical
theory and principles. Mayberry and Rees clearly illustrate a feminist ap-
proach to science education as they help us both to deconstruct and to
INTRODUCTION II

create productive dialectical relationships for reconsidering what science

education could be. The authors include personal narrative as well as
student voices in their chapter, further demonstrating feminist practice.
All of these chapters illustrate the difficulty of separating pedagogical
practices from course content and curriculum from philosophy and the-
ory. This differentiation is, and should be, more difficult for feminist
pedagogues, precisely because it is based on the feminist principles dis-
cussed at the beginning of this introduction: what we teach and why and
who we are in our own institutional contexts and the larger society must
be taken into consideration in the development of our pedagogical theory
and practice.

Part II: Pedagogical Practices in the Feminist Classroom

In this section, the authors move more toward the practical and offer a
number of perspectives on specific pedagogical techniques, how they re-
late to feminist pedagogical theory, and how they are used in specific
contexts. While this set of chapters is decidedly more pragmatic in inten-
tion, there remains an ongoing (though usually quite concise) effort to
articulate the nature and values of feminist pedagogy, as well as a com-
mitment to critical reflection on teaching and reflexivity about teacher
roles, practices, and experiences.
Estelle Freedman (1990) begins this section by looking at a common
pedagogical technique: the small group discussion or activity. She begins
her chapter by recalling the consciousness-raising groups of the 1970s
wo1nen's movement and her own experience with this method as a student
in that decade. While the use of small groups in the consciousness-raising
tradition might seem obvious to 1nany fe1ninist pedagogues today, Freed-
man explains that what is common in some contexts may still be innova-
tive in others. In fact, she articulates compellingly how and why small
group pedagogy was considered extraordinary at Stanford University in the
1980s. Her discussion, by weaving her reflections and analysis ,.vith student
voices, is a reminder of why small group and consciousness-raising peda-
gogy remains an important part of feminist teaching.
In addition to a discussion of the specifics of how she used consciousness-
raising groups in her classes, Freedman incorporates a good deal of atten-
tion to gender, race, class, sexuality, violence, and activism issues as to
how these were addressed in course readings, group discussions, and stu-
dent reflections on their own learning. Freedman's piece (re)inspires us
to (re)commit to this pedagogical practice, and particularly to trust our
students more in the learning process.
As a useful extension to Freedman's chapter, Julia Wood (1993) offers
concrete methods for feminist teachers to facilitate group and whole-class
discussions to ensure that diverse voices are heard. Based on work she
12 FEMINIST PEDAGOGY

developed for teaching gender and communication, Wood brings valuable

conversational techniques to the classroom setting. Using reflective
writing followed by structured conversational exercises, Wood shows
how gender orientation !not sex) predisposes particular interpretations of
what others say and, therefore, particular conversational moves. While
Wood's chapter reports an analysis of gendered conversational patterns
as they manifest in her classroo1n, the techniques she uses to guide stu-
dents through active and reflective listening can be used by any instruc-
tor in any classroom. These techniques can also be taught as a way of
helping consciousness-raising and small group participants listen to and
hear diverse voices in that context and to reflect on their own communi-
cation behaviors.
Saundra Gardner's (1993) chapter on teaching about domestic violence
is concerned with creating a safe environ1nent for class discussion. While
her reflections focus on her experiences teaching about sexual and do-
mestic violence, the issues she explores related to student anger, hope-
lessness, and despair are also relevant to many courses in women's stud-
ies curricula and to teaching feminist perspectives in myriad subject
areas. This chapter operates primarily at the descriptive level, as Gardner
explains her choices, what has occurred in her classroom, how these ex-
periences have led to revisions in course content and teaching strategies,
and how this has had an impact on her and her students. The lesson to be
gleaned from this chapter is how to create classroom environments that
are relatively safe and empowering for students and teachers.
In their chapter, Mary Margaret Fonow and Debian Marty (1991) ex-
plore another familiar teaching practice: the use of panels to bring partic-
ular perspectives into the classroom, in their case the perspectives of
lesbians. The discussion engages us in a valuable exploration of the dia-
lectical tension between the feminist epistemological privileging of per-
sonal experience (i.e., to understand the lesbian experience you must
hear from "real lesbians") and the poststructural deconstruction of es-
sentialism (i.e., sexual identity is fluid, and there is no such thing as a
"real lesbian" as a distinct or essential category).
In a chapter in the previous section, johnston explains the use of les-
bian/gay/bisexual panels has been eschewed in johnston's course on sex-
uality to disrupt the privileging of experience as a reification of ,essen-
tialism. Fonow and Marty attempt to engage the same questions and
issues, but with a different result. In particular, they note the ongoing
need for identity politics even while we deconstruct and destabilize es-
sentialist identities and subject positions. Feminist pedagogues will find
this article to be evocative as they reflect on their own decisions about if
and how to use guest panels in the classroom.
Another common assignment in women's studies classes is the social
action project. In this concise chapter, Suzanna Rose (1989) explains her
INTRODUCTION 13

use of the protest as a teaching technique as a way to promote feminist

activism. Her objective was to help students move from focusing largely
on intellectual and personal growth and toward developing their moti-
vation to produce social change. The chapter explores an experiment
she used in an upper-level feminist theory course and provides useful
insights into how to facilitate student application of learning through
the activist project-as grounded in the issues that are salient to the
student-and the impact on the student's sense of self-efficacy. She also
provides important caveats about risks to students and teachers who en-
gage in this pedagogical activity.
We include Annis Hopkins' essay, originally published in 1996, to
close this section, because it is in many ways future looking; that is, she
challenges feminist pedagogues to consider how to develop engaged fem-
inist teaching practices in online environments. Hopkins acknowledges
the apparent paradox for feminist teachers: how do we produce personal,
interactive, caring learning environments using distance education?
How will this differ from traditional educational methods, which have
historically been grounded in the lecture and other didactic teaching
methods? In addition to justifying the ongoing value of the lecture for-
mat, Hopkins provides a rationale for why women's studies courses
should be taught through distance education. She explores the obstacles
she has faced in her lat that time) five years' experience teaching wom-
en's studies courses online, as well as a variety of techniques she has
used to overcome these obstacles. Given the increasingly technological
orientation and savvy of our students, not to mention the pressures on
our institutions to provide distance education, women's studies programs
and feminist teachers in all fields of study would do well to engage ac-
tively in exploring this teaching environment and the development of
appropriate, and still feminist, pedagogies.
In all, the chapters in this section illustrate different approaches to
teaching. The authors, as feminist scholars and pedagogues, explore the
theoretical reasoning, context-specific challenges, and creative processes
for using a variety of classroom-based and online teaching strategies. They
also demonstrate how our teaching is so much a part of our evolving
identity as feminists as we grapple with how to be true to our principles
and effective in our classrooms despite complex intellectual, demo-
graphic, and material challenges.

Part III: Race Matters: Intersectional Analyses

of Classroom Dynamics
The next part brings intersectional analysis of race to the center of fo-
cus. Authors in previous sections engaged theoretically with the need
for intersectional awareness and, in particular, the ways postmodern
14 FEMINIST PE DAGOGY

and poststructural feminism can guide our inquiry and our teaching.
Previous chapters also explored how identity politics functioned in spe-
cific classroom contexts and the ways these politics influenced course
content and process. The authors in this section foreground the role of
critical race theory, including how it has broadened, deepened, and sharp-
ened fe1ninist thought in recent years. It is a logical step, then, to con-
sider how critical race consciousness has and can become integral to
theorizing and practicing feminist teaching (see, e.g., LatCrit theory).
Lili Kim (2001) begins her chapter with a review of the major tenets of
feminist pedagogy, including a conscious engagement of its critics. In do-
ing so, she uses her course, "Women of Color and the A1nerican Experi-
ence," to illustrate the ilnportance of focusing on racism, classis1n, ho-
mophobia, and other vectors of women's oppression in women's studies
classes. She shares an overview of her course, an argu1nent for why
classes that focus on the experiences of women of color remain neces-
sary in women's studies curricula, some of the specific assignments she
has tried, and a critical analysis of student responses and classroom in-
teractions. Particularly because of the dynamics created by the demo-
graphics of her students (largely African A1nerican women, working
mothers, and first-generation students), and the reflexive engagement
with her own identity as a novice Asian American professor, Kim's dis-
cussion of what happens in her class is captivating and revealing. She
explores several challenges she has faced, such as resistance from self-
proclaimed feminists who objected to discussing ho1nophobia, surprise
a1nong African American women to learn that a course on race would be
taught by an Asian A1nerican and include the experiences of Native
American and Latina women, and the distinctive work of keeping white
women fro1n becoming alienated as discussion inevitably turned to race
privilege.
The story of her chapter title and how she later incorporated it into an
assignment in future classes is co1npelling and provides a wonderful ex-
ample of how student voices inform our teaching, just as they inform
Kim's theorizing about feminist pedagogy. Kim's chapter is well-grounded
in "classical" feminist theory; she also incorporates important works by
wo1nen of color feminists (most notably Margaret Anderson and Patricia
Hill Collins' 1998 volume, as well as works by bell hooks, Audre ·Lorde,
Chandra Mohanty, and Cherrie Moraga), which have continued to have
an i1npact on feminist inquiry and teaching in profound ways.
In the sa1ne way that Kim's chapter reveals the powerful and transfor-
mative potential of feminist pedagogy for first-generation undergraduate
students, Anne Donadey (2002) brings similar issues to the graduate
feminist criticism course and invites us to consider how teaching about
race issues is encountered in the formation of future feminist scholars
INTRODUCTION 15

and teachers. Her analysis is more focused on student resistance than

empowerment (compared with Kim's). Of interest to NWSA members
and readers of the NWSA fournal, she situates her discussion in relation
to the recent struggles within NWSA over different visions of feminism
and a growing critique of white supremacist ideology in the women's
movement and professional organizations.
The tropes of "safe space" and "student voice" are invoked through a
series of questions about the ways students are silenced in the classroom,
the degree to which feminist notions of safe space apply to differently
situated students, and the consequences of openly racist comments on
stu dents, feminist dialogue, and subsequent classroom conversations
about the interlocking nature of oppression.
Donadey encounters much the same kinds of resistance as did Kim,
though it is even more fervent, perhaps because the graduate students in
a women's studies program/course have become more adept at and in-
vested in gender-based analysis. She notes that, while the chapter repre-
sents her process of reflecting on a painful teaching experience and her
analysis incorporates influences from conversations with students and
antiracist colleagues, her analysis does not constitute a pedagogy, per se.
However, we submit that it not only illustrates her pedagogy and the
ways she endures to apply feminist and critical race theory in her class-
room, but that her process exhibits a powerful feminist pedagogical
praxis .
And so, in some ways, we have come full circle, back to the need to
theorize. Not only do we witness, in Donadey, the struggles of future
feminist teachers and scholars as they confront the complexities of femi-
nism and pedagogy, but we are also reminded of the ways that many of
the assumptions of feminist theory and movement are challenged by
critical race theory and truly pluralistic analysis. Donadey points out the
irony in radical feminism in that an uncritical trust in our ability to cre-
ate safe space and promote free speech "replicate[s] the assumptions of
the bourgeois concept of the public sphere" (p. 214). It is particularly ur-
gent to note that the mostly white female students in h er graduate semi-
nar resisted engaging in analysis of multiple oppressions mainly in rela-
tion to race and colonialism. This, then, points to the road ahead.

Part IV: Bibliographies

The final section includes two bibliographies published by NWSA[,
which we include to fortify the practical value of this retrospective.
While we refer to some of the foundational works on feminist pedagogy
in the first section of this introductory chapter, we have in no way refer-
enced all of the historically important writing on feminist pedagogy, let
16 FEMINIST PEDAGOGY

alone its precursors. We hope that these two bibliographies, along with
the references provided by each author in the volume, will facilitate the
ease with which readers can access additional resources. After all, read-
ing our foremothers is critical to developing and reflecting upon our own
pedagogy.
The first bibliography, by Lori Goetsch, was published in 1991 and in-
cludes work published between 1986 (the end date of Carolyn Shrews-
bury's bibliography published in Women 's Studies Quarterly, 1987a) and
1990. Goetsch provides a context for her selections, as well as short but
useful annotations for each of the fifty-one citations.
With very little overlap, the second bibliography, compiled by Stepha-
nie Riger, Carrie Brecke, and Eve Wiederhold (1995), is more comprehen-
sive in terms of time and range of content. It includes citations from the
early 1980s through 1995. This bibliography is organized helpfully, espe-
cially in assisting readers without training in exploring multiracial fem-
inisms and critical race theory and in preparing for the kinds of experi-
ences explored by many of the authors in this volume.
We hope that future bibliographies of feminist pedagogy published in
The NWSA fournal will also include writings from transnational and
postcolonial feminists. There are also works such as Jyl Lynn Felman's
arresting Never a Dull Moment (2001). Such works may be easy to miss
in literature reviews because they seem to be about performance rather
than pedagogy. While 1nany of our graduate training experiences did not
include exploration of such wide-ranging theoretical streams, let alone
consideration of the ways they might impact our thinking about femi-
nism or teaching, we are all responsible for reading, listening, learning
about, and practicing an increasingly inclusive, antioppressive, and trans-
formative pedagogy.

In Closing
This retrospective illustrates the ways that the NWSA fournal has al-
ways been a place where feminist teachers and scholars look t6 publish
scholarship on teaching and learning. It should not be surprising, then,
that the journal is a place where NWSA members and other readers go to
read about, reflect upon, and gather ideas for their own teaching. The ar-
ticles on pedagogy published in NWSAT represent the various streams of
writing about feminist classrooms and teaching, and reveal much about
how feminist pedagogy has evolved in the past twenty years. Earlier ar-
ticles, not surprisingly, focus mainly on gender as an organizing principle
and central concern for course content and for understanding teacher
and student interaction. Later articles bring complex intersectional anal-
INTRODUCTION 17

ysis of race, class, sexuality, and gender more into the center of theoriz-
ing and practicing feminist pedagogy.
Although the essays collectively explore the philosophical and theo-
retical dimensions of feminist pedagogy, they also illustrate how it is
practiced. Specific teaching methods, thick description of particular
teaching contexts and moments, and an attention to trial and error char-
acterize the feminist teaching explored in these chapters. Tried-and-true
teaching methods are problematized, as new approaches are attempted,
sometimes successfully and often in unexpected ways. More empirical
research on what feminis.t teachers actually do in their classrooms, as well
as about the theories and assumptions that underlie practice, is needed. It
would certainly be useful, for example, to update what we learned from
Julia Brown's 1992 survey.
Tellingly, many of the essays are highly reflexive, which demonstrates
teaching praxis while also being generative of theory. These essays nar-
rate a feminist pedagogy in action, as expected and unexpected conse-
quences emerge in relation to the variables presented by the students, the
contexts where we teach, the climate of the larger society, and teachers'
identities and gifts. These essays also reveal areas for future theorizing,
empirical study, and reflexive practice.
Based on our informal tallies, about half of the authors who are pub-
lishing on the topic of feminist pedagogy (in NWSAJ and elsewhere)
seem to be English professors with prilnary training and/or research in-
terests in literary criticism. In addition, with the exception of a few
women of color and white men, and even in the cases of writing about
antiracist feminist pedagogies, most of the authors seem to be white
women. These trends 1nake us wonder: What are the stories of feminist
pedagogy that are not collected in volu1nes about feminist pedagogy? A
meta-analysis of all volumes on pedagogy should pay particular atten-
tion to these issues as well as who is being cited, and which discussions
are taken up by which authors, in order to understand the changing de-
mographics, theories, and practices of feminist pedagogy. It does seem
that the more recent volumes on feminist pedagogy, like the more recent
articles in this collection, are more likely to focus on intersectional
analysis and praxis, and are more likely to be written or co-authored by
self-identified lesbian or openly queer authors and ethnically/racially di-
verse authors.
In all, we hope this NWSA Journal retrospective continues the project
of theorizing feminist pedagogy as multiple voices and perspectives are
brought into the conversation. We also hope it will assist readers in their
own attempts to develop theoretically grounded classroom practices in-
formed by the advice and experience of others, and to reflect creatively
on their own teaching.
18 FEMINIST PEDAGOGY

Works Cited
Anderson, M. L., and Hill Collins, P., eds. (1998). Race, Class, and Gender: An
Anthology. New York: Wadsworth.
Bauer, D. M. (1990). Authority. NWSA fournal 3, no. 1: 95-97.
Belenky, M. F., Clinchy, B. M., Goldberger, N. R., and Tarule, J.M. (1986). Women's
Ways of Knowing: The Development of Self, Voice, and Mind. New York:
Basic.
Brown, J. (1992). Theory or Practice: What Exactly is Feminist Pedagogy? fournal
of General Education 41: 51-63.
Caughie, P. L., and Pearce, R. (1992). Resisting "the Dominance of the Profes-
sor": Gendered Teaching, Gendered Subjects. NWSA Journal 4, no. 2:
187-99.
Cohee, G. E., Daumer, E., Kemp, T. D., Krebs, P. M., Lafky, S., Runzo, S., eds.
(1998). The Feminist Teacher Anthology: Pedagogies and Classroom Strate-
gies. New York: Teachers College Press.
Crabtree, R., and Sapp, D. (2003). Theoretical, Political, and Pedagogical Chal-
lenges in the Feminist Classroom: Our Struggles to Walk the Wa lk. College
Teaching 51, no. 4: 131-40.
Dewey, J. (1916). Democracy and Education. New York: Macmillan.
Donadey, A. (2002). Negotiating Tensions: Teaching about Race Issues in Gradu-
ate Fe1ninist Classrooms. NWSA fournal 14, no. 1: 82- 103.
Felman, J. L. (2001). Never a Dull Moment: Teaching and the Art of Perfor-
mance. New York: Routledge.
Fonow, M. M., and Marty, D. (1991). The Shift from Identity Politics to the Poli-
tics of Identity: Lesbian Panels in the Women's Studies Classroom. NWSA
fournal 3, no. 3: 402-13.
Freedman, E. B. 11990). Small Group Pedagogy: Consciousness Raising in Con-
servative Times. NWSA fournal 2, no. 4: 603-24.
Freire, P. (2000). Pedagogy of the Oppressed, trans. M. B. Ra1nos. New York:
Continuum. (Originally published in English in 1970)
Gardner, S. 11993). Teaching about Domestic Violence: Strategies for Empower-
ment. NWSA Journal 5, no. 1: 94-102.
Gilligan, C. (1982). In a Different Voice: Psychological Theory and Women 's De-
velopment. Ca1nbridge, MA: Harvard University Press .
Giroux, H. A. (1997). Pedagogy and the Politics of Hope: Theory, Culture, and
Schooling. Boulder: Westview Press.
Goetsch, L. A. 11991). Feminist Pedagogy: A Selective Annotated Bibliography.
NWSA fournal 3, no. 3: 422-29.
Holland, J., and Blair, M., eds. (1995). Debates and Issues in Feminis t Research
and Pedagogy. Philadelphia: Multilingual Matters.
hooks, b. (1994). Teaching to Transgress: Education and the Practice of Freedom.
New York: Routledge.
hooks, b. (1995). Killing Rage: Ending Racism. New York: An Owl Book.
hooks, b. (1996). Feminist Theory: A Radical Agenda. In Multicultural Experi-
ences, Multicultural Theories, ed. M. F. Rogers, 56-61. New York: McGraw-
Hill.
INTRODUCTION 19

Hopkins, A. H. 11996). Women's Studies on Television? It's Time for Distance

Learning. NWSA fournal 8, no. 2: 91-106.
Johnston, S. 11995). Not for Queers Only: Pedagogy and Postmodernism. NWSA
fournal 7, no. 1: 109-22.
Kim, L. M. (2001). "I Was So Busy Fighting Racism That I Didn't Even Know I
Was Being Oppressed as a Woman!" Challenges, Changes, and Empower-
ment in Teaching about Women of Color. NWSA fournal 13, no. 2: 98-
11 l.
Laskey Aerni, A., and McGoldrick, K., eds. (1999). Valuing Us All: Feminist
Pedagogy and Economics. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.
Lather, P. (1991). Getting Smart: Feminist Research and Pedagogy with/in the
Postmodern . New York: Routledge.
Lorde, A. (1984). Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches by Audre Larde. Freedom,
CA: Crossing Press.
Luke, A., and Luke, C. 11994). Pedagogy. ln The Encyclopedia of Language and
Linguistics, ed. R.E. Asher and J.M. Si1npson, 566-68. Tarrytown, NY: El-
sevier Science/Pergamon.
Luke, C., ed. (1996). Feminisms and Pedagogies of Everyday Life. Albany: State
University of New York Press.
Macdonald, A. A., and Sanchez-Casal, S., eds. (2002). Twenty-First-Century Fem-
inist Classrooms: Pedagogies of Identity and Difference. New York: Palgrave
Macmillan.
Maher, F. A., and Thompson Tetrault, M. K. 12001). The Fen1inist Classroom: Dy-
namics of Gender, Race, and Privilege. New York: Rowman &. Littlefield.
Mayberry, M., and Rees, M. N. 11997). Feminist Pedagogy, Interdisciplinary
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Mayberry, M., and Rose, E. C., eds. (1999). Meeting the Challenge: Innovative
Feminist Pedagogies in Action. New York: Routledge.
McLaren, P. (2000). Che Guevara, Paulo Freire, and the Pedagogy of Revolution.
Lanham, MA: Rowman &. Littlefield.
Mohanty, C. T. (1991). Under Western Eyes. In Third World Women and the Poli-
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M. L. Anderson, and P. Hill Collins, 26-33. New York: Wadsworth.
Munson Deats, S., and Tallent Lenker, L., eds. (1994). Gender and Academe:
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Classroom: A Selected Bibliography. NWSA fournal 7, no. 2: 58- 75.
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Fe1ninist Education. NWSA fournal 11, no. 1: 118- 35.
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20 FEMINIST PEDAGOGY

Shrewsbury, C. M. (1987a). Fen1inist Pedagogy: A Bibliography. Women's Studies

Quarterly 15, nos. 3 and 4: 116-24.
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5, no. 1: 82-93.
PART I Feminist Pedagogical Theory and Praxis
CHAPTER ONE

Authority

DALE M . BAUER

The authority of feminist criticism is a rhetorical one (which can, in cer-

tain cases, be used against feminism). "Authority is always a source [ ... ]
of struggle," and that struggle does not guarantee equitable "social
effects." 1 We are accustomed to thinking of authority as an object-as in
someone "invested with authority"-but we need to think of it, instead, as
a rhetorical effect. Authority is the effect of successfully enforcing rheto-
rici and, I would argue, a successful feminist rhetoric produces powerful
and persuasive and sometimes dangerous effects. To that end, we have
still more authority to claim for very specific political purposes.
Twelve years ago Arlin Diamond and Lee Edwards published The Au-
thority of Experience (1977), giving testimony to women's experiences of
oppression. Diamond and Edwards clai1ned an authority for feminist crit-
icism as justified by experience. However, their authority- an imperative
that the marginal voices from the canon and the academy be given voice-
is not my notion of authority. How, in this political and social climate, do
we define the authority feminist critics have attained?
First, why is "authority" such a hard word for feminists? Like the
word "power," it suggests an identification with patriarchy. Kathleen
Jones suggests "that authority currently is conceptualized so that female
voices are excluded from it .... Authority, like judgment, is necessarily
hierarchical and dispassionate" versus compassionate. 2 We can feel am-
bivalence about seeking authority-and power; we know its associations
,-vhen we have been excluded from it. At the heart of defining authority is
the understanding that institutions are embedded in .historical and so-
cial contingencies and complexitiesi these institutions can never be "uto-
pias of consensus." As such, authority within the institution will always
involve further struggles. In the words of one critic, "authority is always
imaginary, but the power of authority is always real. 113
Early feminist criticism often argued against the idea of "authority."4
But I appeal to Catherine Clement and Helene Cixous's exchange in The
Newly Born Woman as a counterargument: they state that authority is
inevitable since "we are within the same cultural systen1" that thrives
as male discourse. 5 Feminists have had trouble occupying this posi-
tion of authority because of its association with domination. But for the
nineties- even as we do so ambivalently-we need to accept the author-
ity which the institutionalization of feminism has given us. What we do
with that authority- an authority always in flux- is still in question.

Originally published in the Winter 1991 issue of the NWSA Journal.

24 FEMINIST PEDAGOG ICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

But it is not an uncomplicated or unambivalent stance; rather than seek

to reduce that ambivalence, we must use the tension that authority fos -
ters to advance social change.
A recent experience suggested to m e the consequences of claiming
authority when in 1989, I delivered a talk on feminist authority in the
classroom, claiming that feminism is not only a method (or a pedagogy)
but also a subject, a discipline, for study. Some members of the audience
responded in what I could only call rhetorical violence: that I was a
cryptofascist in desiring this authority for feminism and suggesting that
" I was cutting my own throat" for making the claims for authority be-
fore I had tenure . Immediately after the talk, one of the members of the
audience announced what had happened that night at the University of
Montreal.6 The confluence of events- my talk on feminism in the class-
room, the anger it evoked in the audience, and the very real violence in
Montreal against feminists and their perceived authority-brought the
lesson home about the dangers in claiming that authority.
Feminist rhetoric in the nineties could be seen as a provisional mi-
cronarrative devised, in this contemporary critical arena, to provide a body
of political positions but not to establish a univocal voice. Feminist au-
thority, therefore, is more pragmatic than true. It corresponds to our
lived experience of feminism- as fractured, often contradictory- where
our allegiances often pull us in several different directions. Authority is
contingent on our recognitions of differences within feminism. Our own
authority is provisional but no less powerful in its effects for being so.
As feminists, our authority comes with an understanding of how it
has been used against us. We must sustain a sense of authority in flux-
the very definition of the political (according to Daniel Cottom's Text
and Culture). For me, authority and ambivalence go hand-in-hand. "The
inability to reconcile authority with human agency," Kathleen B. Jones
argues, "is the result, in part, of a conception of the self in isolation from
others as opposed to a self in connection with others." 7 Reconciling au-
thority with co1npassion and feminist politics is the task we now fac e.
In short, it is now necessary to historicize the notion of authority, just
as it is necessary to historicize terms like "the body," "sisterhood," and
all of the other feminist bywords. We cannot accept the fear of authority
or power that we have seen linked with domination and eschew it in fa-
vor of some decentered classroom. 8 There is bound to be ambivalence in
this model: the feminist claiming authority meets with all sorts of resis-
tance, mostly based on the fact that we are not socialized to see women
as authorities at all. Or, for that matter, to claim that authority comfort-
ably.9 A former colleague, Ann Ardis, put it this way about a graduate
class in which she struggled with authority: "I'm glad . .. you teach your
first graduate course only once in your life.... Were students resisting
AUTHORITY 25

the feminist content of the course-or was it the feminist pedagogy that
created dissonance in the class? And how much of what might be termed
feminist pedagogy in this course was really feminist pedagogy and how
much was just my female insecurity about my authority in the
classroom?" 10
How does who we are, as gendered bodies and as professors positioned
in the academy, affect our relation to authority? Feminist rhetoric mat-
ters all the more in its deployment and in its political ends. In the strug-
gle for authority, we cannot let our points of agree1nent be lost in the
points of disagreement.
Why not think of claiming authority as an emancipatory strategy: au-
thority, in this sense, involves what is called in critical pedagogy becom-
ing a transformative intellectual. To think of claiming authority in such
a way means being aware of the authority we assume in fighting forms of
oppression and, most of all, enlisting colleagues and "treating students
as if they ought to be concerned about the issues of social justice and po-
litical action." 11 To assume any less is to relinquish the only sort of au-
thority that matters.

Notes
This essay is a slightly revised version of a presentation delivered at the Modern
Language Association annual meeting on 28 December 1989 in Washington,
D.C.

l. Daniel Cottom, Text and Culture (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota

Press, 1989), I 1.

2. Kathleen Jones, "On Authority: Or, Why Women Are Not Entitled to Speak,"
in Feminism and Foucault, ed. Irene Diamond and Lee Quinby (Boston:
Northeastern University Press, 1988), 120-21.

3. Cottom, Text and Culture, 13, 40.

4. bell hooks, Talking Back: Thinking Feminist, Thin king Black (Boston: South
End Press, 1989), 45.

5. Catherine Clement and Helene Cixous, The Newly Born Woman, trans.
Betsy Wing (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1986), 137.

6. Marc Levine shot twenty-seven people, killing fourteen, shouting: " You're
all a bunch of feminists and I hate feminists."

7. Jones, "On Authority," 128.

26 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

8. See Margo Culley, "Anger and Authority in the Introductory Women's Stud-
ies Classroo1n," in Gendered Subjects, ed. Margo Culley and Catherine
Portuges !Boston: Routledge, 1985), 211.

9. See Susan Stanford Friedman, "Authority in the Feminist Classroom: A

Contradiction in Terms?" in Gendered Subjects, 206.

10. Ann Ardis, " Feminist Pedagogy Seminar," Miami University of Ohio, Fall
1988.

11. Henry Giroux, Schooling and the Struggle for Public Life (Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press, 1989), 139.
CHA PTER TWO

Resisting "the Dominance of the Professor":

Gendered Teaching, Gendered Subjects

PAMELA L . CAUGHIE AND RICHARD PEARCE

We write in sexual difference. That is the critical difference in feminist

inquiry.
-Jane Gallop

The dialogue that follows was initially presented at a special session on

feminist pedagogy at the 1989 Modern Language Association (MLA)
Convention: "Teaching Woolf: Issues of Gender and Authority in the
Classroom." The two of us met six months before the convention, dis-
covered that we had mutual scholarly and pedagogical interests, and de-
cided to explore the issues of gender and authority presented in teaching
Woolf through an exchange of letters. We seemed ideal complements:
Pamela Caughie is a younger woman teaching at a coed urban university,
Loyola University Chicago; Richard Pearce is an older man teaching at
Wheaton College, a s1nall women's college that had just admitted men. In
our correspondence, we wanted to explore the general pedagogical ques-
tions of this panel-what can teaching Woolf tell us about teaching?-in
terms of a specific issue: what difference does our difference in gender
1nake when it comes to feminist pedagogy? In editing our correspon-
dence for the MLA presentation, we chose to focus on a recurring con-
cern in our letters: the structure of authority, both in the classroom and
in narrative. And by way of answering our question about gender differ-
ence, we chose to present our paper as a dialogue. The dialogue not only
captured the dynamics of our exchange, the collaborative give and take,
reflection and growth, logic and leaping that characterized our corre-
spondence. It also enabled us to deal head-on with the potentially divi-
sive issue of gender differences and the potentially hegemonic role of
authority. We present this essay version in its original dialogue form,
moving from a discussion of teaching Woolf to a discussion of gendered
teaching, as a way of enacting the insights we gained from our ongoing
discussion and as a way of playing out the implications of Woolf's own
exercise in pedagogy, A Room of One's Own, which is forever displacing
its own conclusions in the need to address something or someone else.

Pamela: Our title, '1 Resisting 'the Dominance of the Professor,' 11 comes
from Virginia Woolf's celebrated essay, A Room of One's Own, which is

Originally published in the Summer 1992 issue of the NWSA fournal.

28 FEMINIST PEDAGOGIC AL THEORY AND PRAXIS

based on two lectures Woolf gave at Newnha1n and Girton Colleges in

October 1928, and which both promotes and enacts a fe1ninist pedagogy.
In chapter 2, Woolf writes: "The most transient visitor to this planet ...
could not fail to be aware . .. that England is under the rule of a patriar-
chy. Nobody in their senses could fail to detect the dominance of the
professor" (33). Specifically, Woolf refers to those (1nale) professors who
write books about the mental, moral, and physical inferiority of women.
More generally, Woolf uses the professor as the embodiinent of those in-
stitutionalized patriarchal power relations where the superiority of one
social group presupposes the inferiority of another. For Woolf, the domi-
nance of the professor depends on the polarity of gender differences,
what she calls "this pitting of sex against sex, of quality against quality"
(Room, 110). It is this polarity that our six-month epistolary exchange
focused on.

Dick: I'd been teaching at a woman's college for twenty-four years and-
though angry when the college became coed-I was looking forward to
teaching young men what I had learned about gender. I had an ideal op-
portunity when we came to A Room of One's Own. But it turned out to
be complicated-when one of the few male students said, "I like Virginia
Woolf: she had a lot of balls." For suddenly I had to focus not only on the
problem of discourse, but on a male student testing his power. And our
contest could easily displace the woman he admired with such manly
grace- and turn the women in the class from participants to spectators.

Pamela: Such power is, of course, precisely what's at issue in Woolf's es-
say as well as in the pedagogical practice it enacts. A Room of One's
Own provides a model for approaching any issue as difficult and divisive
as the relation between gender and writing or gender and teaching, and
one that may prove useful when responding to strong male students; for
its flexible method of investigation changes with the problems she takes
up, the contexts she enters into, and the audience she addresses. Despite
the avowed topic of her essay, the relation between women and fiction,
Woolf never does tell us the "true nature of woman" or the "true nature
of fiction" (Room, 4) because she investigates ever-shifting relations and
because she foregrounds her own methods of investigation. In each chap-
ter, she draws stark contrasts between women and men, emphasizing the
difference in their prosperity, their values, their sentences; then in the
last chapter she decides that the first sentence of her lecture on "Women
and Fiction" would be. "It is fatal for anyone who writes to think of their
sex" (Room, 108). And yet it seems Woolf has thought of little else.
If we take this sentence at face value, we may conclude that for Woolf,
awareness of gender differences has nothing to do with writing, or with
teaching. But the method of her essay shows that gender differences cer-
RESISTING "THE DOMINANCE OF THE PROFESSOR" 29

tainly matter to Woolf. The problem is thinking of gender differences in

terms of stable oppositions (pitting sex against sex, quality against qual-
ity). When the narrator considers the "comparative values" of women
and men, charwoman and barrister, she cannot draw a conclusion be-
cause the 1neasuring rods, as she calls them, change, just as they change
in the course of Woolf's essay (Room, 40, 89). Gender differences have
everything to do with writing and teaching, but Woolf wanted to find a
way out of the polarity, the opposition between genders.

Dick: I agree that Woolf wanted to find a way out of the opposition be-
tween genders, and, as you argue so well, that she does. She also replaced
duality with multiplicity, and traditional goal-oriented and hierarchical
story lines with fields of changing relationships. And she rejected the
male sentence, disrupted and decentered the totalizing story line, devel-
oped a new authorial voice, and valorized a variety of women and wom-
en's experiences. But her discourse, her way out, exists within a larger
field that is dominated by male authority.
For in her major novels the men have at least virtually the last-
unifying-word. Peter Walsh has the climactic vision of Mrs . Dalloway.
Lily Briscoe must complete the story of the father and son landing at the
lighthouse before she can complete her own painting. And Bernard tells
the story of the lady writing, "sums up" a fragmentary and heteroge-
neous novel, and ends by riding against death "with my spear couched
and my hair flying back like a young man's, like Percival's when he gal-
loped in India" (The Waves, 297).
Take The Waves, Woolf's most successful achievement of multiplicity
and shifting interrelationships. Notice how the male characters have the
narrative power. For example, everyone as far as I know accepts Louis's
story about his devastating encounter with Jinny. Feeling alienated by
his nationality and class, he stands alone by the wall, watching "Ber-
nard, Neville, Jinny and Susan (but not Rhoda) skim the flower-beds with
their nets." He wants to be unseen and stands "rooted to the middle of
the earth," peering through an eyehole in the hedge. But now Jinny's eye-
beam slides through the chink. "She has found me. I am struck on the
nape of the neck. She has kissed me. All is shattered" (12-13).
But Jinny tells a different story, which no one seems to have noticed.
She sees the leaves moving in the hedge and thinks it is a bird in its nest.
But there is no bird in the nest, and the leaves go on moving, and she is
frightened. "I ran past Susan, past Rhoda, and Neville and Bernard in the
tool-house talking" (13). Note that in her story Rhoda is with the children,
who are not skimming the flower beds with their nets, as Louis reported,
but in and around the toolhouse. Once we recognize that Louis and Jinny
are telling different stories, we can begin to understand the struggle for
narrative control, and we may see Jinny's reaction in a different light. "I
30 f£MINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

cried as I ran, faster and faster. What moved the leaves? What moves my
heart, my legs? And I dashed in here, seeing you green as a bush, like a
branch, very still, Louis, with your eyes fixed. 'Is he dead?' I thought, and
kissed you, with 1ny heart jumping under my pink frock like the leaves"
(13). Jinny's "speech" is in the second person; she is speaking directly to
Louis. And why does she kiss him? Because of her sensuality, which, es-
pecially considering her later thoughts and actions, has been labeled as
aggressive and narcissistic. But perhaps we have not been alert to the
story she is trying to tell. And recent changes in psychological theory,
lead us to understand how we have been caught up in the male paradigm,
and what Jinny's story might entail.
Irene Stiver (director of psychology at McClean Hospital in Massachu-
setts) tells of a young woman who developed a psychotic condition after
her stepfather had a stroke. She talked of wanting to sleep with him. Not
content to draw a Freudian conclusion, Stiver questioned her more
closely. She found out that the stepfather had been a powerful business-
man, contemptuous of weak people like her mother, but very kind to her
as a child. After his stroke, he became terrified: he was afraid to close
his eyes for fear he would die. The young woman was not motivated by
incestuous desire, as male-stream psychology would have it. She sim-
ply could not bear to see this powerful man become so vulnerable. "I
thought . .. if I slept with him, if I put my arms around him, comforted
hiin, he would be less afraid, that he would sleep, and he would stay
alive" (Stiver 1986, 26).
Stiver provides another frame of reference in which to see Jinny. She is
a physical person and will develop into a woman who "can imagine
nothing beyond the circle cast by my body" (128-29). But her instinct
toward Louis is neither sexual nor aggressive. It is simply caring. She is
sensitive to Louis's devastating feeling of isolation and inadequacy, which
is like death. And her instinct is to nurture him, to make him feel warm
and wanted, to physically revive hi1n. Moreover, her later refusal to be
"attached to one person only ... to be fixed, to be pinioned" (55), may
now be seen, not as narcissistic but as a need to connect with everyone.
This need, as Jean Baker Miller and Carol Gilligan point out, is devalued
in a culture dominated by male values of independence-and is continu-
ally misinterpreted and therefore frustrated by the men Jinny meets.
Jinny's kiss initiates both Louis and Jinny into the threatening world
of sexuality-or gender and power. Jinny intrudes into Louis's haven
when, due to his colonized status and class, he is feeling powerless. But,
his gender gives hi1n power and privileges his story over hers. Susan and
Bernard reinforce Louis's reaction to Jinny and, therefore, his version of
the story; indeed, they form the social mirror through which Jinny be-
gins to define herself. But, more important, they also form a narrative
RESISTING "THE DOMINANCE OF THE PROFESSOR" 31

power structure that suppresses Jinny's story and begins to shape our
view of her. 1

Pamela: To read Jinny's story in terms of female nurturing and to valo-

rize such nurturing as a feminine alternative to masculine autonomy
may be to support unwittingly the very gender polarity that has served
patriarchal domination. As Jessica Benjamin argues in The Bonds of
Love, domination stems from the failure to recognize the other's inde-
pendence and from the identification of nurturance and intersubjectivity
with women alone. After all, however much you show us, Dick, that our
responses to Jinny's sexuality have been shaped largely by male values,
as a woman, I still may want to interpret her kiss as an aggressive act, to
read Jinny as narcissistic, as a woman who isn't afraid to live out her
sexual desires and to put her own desires above a man's needs. And I may
choose this reading in order to expose Louis's fear of female sexuality
and the threat independent women pose to his own autonomy as a man.
I agree with you that Woolf's writing, like feminist teaching, takes
place within a larger "field" defined by male authority. What I want to
resist, however, is the desire to offer an alternative model that might com-
pete with the dominant one, to talk about female nurturing versus male
authority or female forms of narrative versus male forms, as if we were
talking about stable oppositions or clearly defined contrasts. The Waves
may be do1ninated by male narrators, as you argue, but Bernard as a nar-
rator differs fro1n Louis and Neville in that novel, and even more from
Mr. A in A Room of One's Own whose bar-like "I" shadows the page so
that his writing subjects the reader to one point of view only (103- 4).
For me, what makes your reading of The Waves so valuable is not
that you demonstrate the superiority of female modes of narrating, but that
you demonstrate the priority of narrative and the diversity of narrative
forms. Instead of beginning with differences in gender and looking for
their different forms of narrative authority, we n1ight begin with the
point and the context of the narrative structure and note the kinds of
authority it gives rise to or allows for.
Let me take To the Lighthouse as an example. This is Woolf's most
famous novel precisely because it was early canonized as a representative
modernist narrative, as Erich Auerbach describes it in his h ighly influen-
tial essay, "The Brown Stocking." Critical attention focused on the ways
in which Woolf and her fictional surrogate, Lily Briscoe, achieved unity,
harmony, and vision in their artworks. Recently, feminist critics have
challenged such modernist readings by identifying the specifically fe-
male narrative strategies in this novel. Marianne Hirsch, for example,
singles out contradiction, oscillation, and irresolution-strategies pro-
duced by the artist's focus on the mother-daughter plot-as the "mark of
32 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

female difference" in this modernist narrative (108-18). The female art-

ist, Hirsch argues, re1nains suspended between equally untenable op-
tions, which she neither chooses between nor reconciles: on the one
hand, the desire to merge with the mother, which would mean intimacy
but also annihilation, and, on the other hand, the desire to follow the
traditional male developmental plot and the narrative aesthetic associ-
ated with it, one that resolves contradictions and 1noves toward some
kind of closure. Woolf's "modernist" style, with its abrupt shifts in per-
spective and its discontinuities, both expresses and maintains the ten-
sion between two alternatives.
Yet however different Lily's, and Woolf's, artworks may be from the
prevailing masculine art of their time, the traits Hirsch values in this
narrative are not the properties of novels produced by women who think
back to their mothers; rather, they are the effects produced by a change
in critical emphasis, from fonnal relations (the concern of modernist
critics and of Lily in Part I) to narrative relations (the concern of feminist-
psychoanalytic critics, and of Lily in Part III). That is, focusing on narra-
tive motives and desires, rather than distinguishing between two types
of narratives, enables differences to emerge without having to specify
those differences in advance, as if the writer were unambiguously gen-
dered from the beginning.
For another example, let me turn to the opposite end of the canonical
scale and take what has been, until recently, Woolf's least-discussed
novel, Between the Acts. Woolf's last novel was long neglected in part
because its fragmented structure suggested to critics that the novel, un-
revised at Woolf's death, was incomplete. The action of the novel con-
sists largely of the preparations for, the staging of, and the audience re-
sponses to a play produced by Miss La Trobe. The play, part of an annual
village pageant, is a parodic reenactment of British literary history staged
in June of 1939. Performed outdoors by local talent, the play is continually
interrupted, by a rain shower, by airplanes flying overhead, by the village
idiot who bursts onto the stage (perhaps part of the play, perhaps not), by
the required intermission for tea. The discontinuous structure of Miss
La Trobe's play, as well as Woolf's novel, has been read by critics in seem-
ingly opposing ways. The discontinuity is interpreted either as Woolf's
despair of the unifying power of art in the face of World War U or as
Woolf's faith in the unifying power of art despite the threat of global de-
struction. If we consider the artist's gender as primary, these readings
may put us in an uncomfortable position. We run the risk of concluding
either that the woman artist (or the lesbian or the foreigner, since La
Trobe is all of these) is unable to unify society-indeed, may even be re-
sponsible for its loss of unity- or that the woman artist (or the "other") is
the one capable of saving us.
RESISTING " THE DOMI N ANCE OF THE PROFESSOR" 33

What if we begin instead not with the gender, sexuality, or ethnicity

of the artist but with the status of the narrative? How can this highly
self-reflexive, indeterminate, parodic narrative enable us to respond dif-
ferently to differences, particularly in gender? We could read those inter-
ruptions in Miss La Trobe's play as revealing how much any creation (an
outdoor pageant, a novel, a feminist classroom) depends on certain con-
tingencies, in this case, bad weather, limited budgets, tea time, world
war, and, most importantly for our pedagogical interests, audience ex-
pectations, the assumptions people bring to the performance. Critics
who try to sum up this novel as despair or affirmation bring to it the
same expectations that La Trobe's audience brings to her play (and our
students bring to our classrooms): the audience "liked to leave a theatre
knowing exactly what was meant" (Between the Acts, 164). If, however,
we accept the contingency of narrative, if we do not conceive the novel
as a separate order providing stability in a world of change, if we do not
consider teaching as imparting knowledge and building consensus but
instead accept the implication of each in the larger cultural economy,
then we may come to see discontinuity and indeterminacy not as prob-
lems to be overcome or as features of a new, highly valued narrative form
(e.g., female or feminist), but as functions of the very circumstances (so-
cial, historical, institutional) in which the narrative is produced, which
include cultural constructions of gender differences.2
While it is significant that La Trobe is a woman, a lesbian, and a for-
eigner, her "otherness" can serve to remind us that confronting such dif-
ferences as those of gender and sexuality requires a new way of conceiv-
ing social, literary, and personal authority. Woolf's novel, like La Trobe's
play, seeks to change our expectations of narrative, to acknowledge the
importance of the audience (or students) in any production. The question
of authority is very much at issue in this prewar novel, yet authority does
not lie where critics look for it, in the author or the text, but in the rela-
tions between writer and reader, just as the authority in the classroom
lies in the interactions between teacher and students. Whom to thank?
the audience asks as they leave the village pageant; whom do we make
responsible? (Between the Acts 195). The audience must learn to accept
their implication in this production, and in the production of narrative
authority.

Dick: So what are the consequences for teaching Woolf? Not simply to
tell Jinny's story or describe the structure of Between the Acts but to
expose the contending narrative forces. Nor can we simply tell this to our
students, that is, lecture to them from our traditional positions of au-
thority. We 1nust change the structure of the classroom to insure the
multiplicity of voices, or to prevent male hegemony like that in The
34 fEMINJST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

Waves. Indeed, what's been becoming more and more clear in our dia-
logue is the relationship between narrative authority and authority in
the classroom. And perhaps we need to make this relationship more ex-
plicit, especially as we teach novels that are attempting to resist tradi-
tional authority.
Faculty of ten don't recognize the ways that 1nen attract attention and
tend to dominate discussion until they see videos of their classes. Ac-
cording to Catherine Krupnick, who has watched thousands of hours of
videoed classes, men speak proportionately more than women, much
longer, and are far more likely to set the agenda. We 1nust also change the
relation of faculty to students, or the learning transaction-which Walter
Ong terms "agonistic," deriving from the tradition where boys were
taken away from their families to a school where they were taught forms
of ceremonial combat in the classrooms as well as the playing fields. I
think all this is what Woolf was getting at in Three Guineas.
Feminist pedagogy and collaborative learning offer good alternative
models. But they are hard to develop because of the conservative peda-
gogical bias of most faculty, because they don't lead to prestigious publi-
cation, but most of all because they exist within a field where the domi-
nant model is dualistic, individualistic, and competitive. And when you
put a cooperative model together with a competitive model-or Jinny's
story next to Louis's- guess who wins? The politics of the classroo1n,
like the politics of narration, lead from heterogeneity to polarization,
from multiplicity to dualism, from the carnival to the agon.

Pamela: Yes, I agree that we must change our classroom structures "to
insure the multiplicity of voices." Yet this need for a collaborative peda-
gogy cannot be effected by changes in our classroom practices alone. A
change in our pedagogy will require, as you point out, a change in the
larger institutional "field" defined by male authority. I also agree that the
politics of the classroom can lead to polarization; for however much I
want to resist the female versus male arguments when it comes to dis-
cussing narrative 1nethods, I have tended to fall back into such opposi-
tions in our discussion of teaching methods. Diana Fuss warns that in a
feminist classroom (or a Woolf seminar, I might add) gender is likely to
be privileged over other kinds of differences, reducing women and men
to their femaleness and maleness respectively and leading us to predict
certain kinds of responses from students or professors based on their gen-
der alone (Fuss 1989, 116).
In acknowledging this tendency, and in emphasizing the importance
of the classroom context, I want to suggest that a feminist pedagogy
based on gynocentric models, such as those provided by Elaine Showalter
and Carol Gilligan, might work better for men than for women, espe-
cially in a coed classroom. You can offer a reading that promotes female
RESISTING "THE DOMINANCE OF THE PROFESSOR" 35

experiences without running the risk of appearing biased or (what's

worse in the academy) subjective. As a woman, I can be accused of read-
ing myself into the text if I offer a similar reading. Where you can sound
tolerant and open-minded, I might sound biased and defensive; where
you can be praised as one of those enlightened men who join women in
exposing the sexism of our culture, I might be dismissed, by male stu-
dents especially, as one of those tiresome women or "interested" critics
who see sexism everywhere.
A feminist pedagogy that would encourage us to relinquish an author-
ity derived from concepts of autono1ny and independence because such
concepts are masculinist, may be easier for male professors to enact than
female. After all, male professors who have been traditionally invested
with institutional authority can relinquish such a position more easily
than women whose status as an authority has not been firmly estab-
lished in the academy. As Susan Stanford Friedman has argued in her
essay in Gendered Subjects, the assumption that as a woman she has to
undermine her authority in the classroom may lead to the denial of au-
thority to women (Culley and Portuges, 207). This is the paradoxical po-
sition a female feminist teacher finds herself in whenever she addresses
issues of authority: in protesting women's lack of authority, as you do in
your reading of Jinny's story, she runs the risk of calling into question
her own authority to make such a claim; and if she does assert her au-
thority in the classroom, she ends up protesting women's lack of author-
ity from a position of authority.
This paradoxical position may be one reason male students tend to ac-
cept feminist ideas more readily from male professors than from female
ones: they have come to accept that authority is male. I'm not suggesting
that we find a way out of this paradox but that we recognize it and thus
find ways of using it to critique the institutional and cultural contexts in
which our authority is shaped, to ask how and why authority came to be
gendered in the first place. In Gendered Subjects, Nancy K. Miller pres-
ents a different response to the question of authority. "It is crucial," she
writes, "for women and feminist scholarship to have a less mystified re-
lation to mastery .. . a more ambiguous and less predictable pedagogy,"
which entails the risk of losing her "own identity as the teacher" (Culley
and Portuges, 198).

Dick: Your view of yourself as a female feminist teacher is even more

complicated than you describe. (Oh, Oh, I realized at this point in our
presentation, as did everyone else as we all started laughing: here I was
a male feminist telling a female feminist what to think of her situation.
As I gesticulated helplessly, hoping somehow to draw myself out of the
abyss, someone called out, "Dick, stop shaking your fist at her." Where-
upon I put my hand in my pocket-only to realize that there was no
36 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

escape from the authority of a male constructed body.) For, while you may
lack authority as a female, you are an authority as a teacher. Moreover,
no matter how you see yourself or what you do with your material or
your students, you cannot abdicate this authority-any more than I can.
And this complicates the problem of a male feminist who hates author-
ity trying to expose sexism and institutionalized forms of power and
open students' 1ninds to multiple alternatives. We are many selves and
speak with many voices, but the authorial voices (of the teacher as well
as the narrator) has a dominating resonance. This resonance, or power,
derives from the pedagogical tradition-the ways of teaching, learning,
reading, and writing established by the class whose authority the autho-
rial voice reflects and perpetuates. It reduces the multiplicity of voices,
or positions, to two: those that enhance its power, either deliberately or
by co-optation, and those that oppose it. And it does so not only because
that's the nature of hegemonic relations, but because aggression, compe-
tition, and dualism are so ingrained, or, as Walter Ong points out, the
tradition is agonistic.
As you say, you can't resist "falling back into the kind of men versus
women [you] want to resist," and you are caught in a dualistic paradox
when you think about giving up authority that as a woman you've never
had. The male paradox is just the reverse. For, while a man may say to
himself, "I'm giving up my authoritative stance," he can't do it. I know
I'm treading dangerous ground by focusing on the proble1ns of men in
power, even when they consider themselves to be feminists and hate au-
thority, but it's a topic that has come up very often in my twenty-four
years of teaching at a women's college and in being the father of two
daughters. For authority is inscribed in roles as teachers and as fathers.
I've never outgrown my adolescent urge to resist authority and never felt
adult enough to see myself as a father figure. But my eyes were opened
two years ago when my daughters gave me a book called Fathers. As a
variety of women authors reflected on their fathers, I began to see how
my daughters had to see me, no matter how I saw myself. And I began to
realize how authority was inscribed not only in my role but in 1ny physi-
ogno1ny and voice, in the way I stood and talked, in the noise I made
when I walked, in the sound and rhythm of my speech. My anger had a
different impact than my wife's. My expectations had more urgency.
Moreover, expectations of my wife and daughters, despite their fe.minist
consciousness, often forced me into male postures. So if women accept
fe1ninist ideas more from male than female teachers-and this hasn't
been my experience at Wheaton-they may be accepting them for the
wrong reasons.

Pamela: (At this stage of our exchange, I was suddenly struck by the
numerous personal examples Dick used in his inquiry into gender and
RESISTING "THE DOMINANCE OF THE PROFES SOR" 37

authority and by the absence of personal examples in my own remarks.

Does this difference ref].ect different theoretical orientations or prose
styles? Or is it a symptom of the very disposition of power relations that
we are exploring here? Am I less willing to risk the personal because I'm
a woman, because I'm untenured, because I'm younger than Dick? I
would like to think my avoidance of personal examples is a conscious
choice, a rigorous adherence to a poststructuralist theory that resists
treating gender differences literally, as empirical or psychological differ-
ences, and instead treats them as a trope for structures of authority, I
would like to think this.) Ah, but I didn't say that women accept femi-
nist ideas from male teachers more easily than from female, but that
men do. This is a good example of how the make-up of our classes affects
the ways we conceive of teacher-student relationships: your classes have
long been composed of womeni mine have often been dominated by
men, especially at the University of Virginia where I taught as a gradu-
ate student. At least our dialogue has brought to my attention a limita-
tion of much pedagogical theory: its tendency to generalize about the
teacher and the student, not only apart from such variables as gender,
race, and class, but also apart from particular classroom and institutional
contexts.

Dick: Our dialogue has helped me clarify a point I hadn't fully under-
stood while writing The Politics of Narration (from which my reading of
Jinny comes) and I'm glad I have time to revise my conclusion. The poli-
tics of narration and the politics of teaching are polarizing. And, in our
desire for openness and multiplicity, we can't ignore the power of the
authorial voice- without it taking over.

Pamela: Yes, you seem to be raising "the feminist question par excel-
lence" as Barbara Johnson puts it in her essay, "Teaching Ignorance": "to
what structure of authority does the critique of authority belong?" (79).
But I sense a note of despair in your voice, as if you regretted the agonis-
tic, as if multiplicity were the more highly valued alternative to competi-
tion, if only we could get everyone to see that. But getting everyone to
see that or to accept any one value system is to risk hegemonic authority.
The problem with posing an alternative pedagogy is that it could consoli-
date into a new norm. What we need is a pedagogy that enables us to
displace the authority of any one model, including its own, as I believe
our dialogue has enabled us to do.
What, then, if we begin not by defining the traits of a feminist class-
room (multiplicity, collaboration, irresolution) beforehand, but with as-
sessing the implications for feminism of a certain pedagogical practice
in the very process of enacting it? For our dialogue has made clear to
me that any pedagogy, like any narrative, must take into account the
38 FEMINIST PEDAGOGIC AL THEORY AND PRAXIS

audience for or with whom it is produced. For whatever our theory of

teaching, in practice we must contend with the student who describes
Woolf's audacity by the language of male anatomy: Virginia Woolf had a
lot of balls.

Dick: Yes, but reme1nber that the student is male, and that one of his
goals is to contest my authority. So when I contend with him, I become
complicit in shifting the class's attention from a powerful woman writer
to a male power struggle.

Pamela : Perhaps one way to resist the dominance of the professor and to
subvert gender polarities would be to make our authority in the class-
room self-reflexive by making our pedagogy a part of the class, a subject
of investigation and critique along with the subject matter of the course,
as Woolf does in A Room of One's Own. Once again, I return to that text
as a model for a feminist pedagogy. All that we normally downplay when
we present our conclusions to our students-our methods and our moti-
vations, our doubts and our disappointments-is laid bare in Woolf's es-
say. By laying bare our pedagogy, we may help the students to see the
ways in which they play the power game through their own desire for
recognition and approbation by receiving, as Woolf says, "from the hands
of the Headmaster a highly ornamental pot" !Room, 110). So when I con-
sider how a feminist professor in a still largely male-identified institu-
tion can resist the dominance of the professor, I think of Woolf's essay,
how she implicates the "other," the reader or student, in her inquiry, and
how her resistance to authority takes many forms, never finally settling
into one method. For such resistance must be enacted over and over
again, just as such dialogues as ours must never conclude.

Notes

1. T hese points are developed in Pearce's Politics of Narration.

2. These readings of To the Lighthouse and Bet ween the A cts are developed
further in Caughie's Virginia Woolf and Postm odernism .

Works Cited

Auerbach, Erich. Mimesis: Th e Representation of Reality in Western Literature.

trans. Willard R. Trask. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1953.
Benjamin, Jessica . Th e Bonds of Love: Psychoanalysis, Feminism, and the Prob-
lem of Domination. New York: Pantheon, 1988.
RESISTING " THE DOMINANCE O f THE PROFESSOR" 39

Caughie, Pamela L. Viriginia Woolf and Postmodernism: Literature in Quest

and Question of Itself. Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press,
1991.
Culley, Margo, and Catherine Portuges, eds. Gendered Subjects: The Dynamics
of Feminist Teaching. New York: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1985.
Friedman, Susan Stanford. "Authority in the Feminist Classroom: A Contradic-
tion in Terms?" In Culley and Portuges, 203- 08.
Fuss, Diana. Essentially Speaking: Feminism, Nature and Difference. New York:
Routledge, 1989.
Gallop, Jane. "Critical Response-Writing and Sexual Difference: The Differ-
ence Within." Writing and Sexual Difference. ed. Elizabeth Abel. Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1982: 283- 90.
Gilligan, Carol. In a Different Voice. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press,
1982.
Hirsch, Marianne. The Mother/Daughter Plot: Narrative, Psychoanalysis, Femi-
nism. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1989.
Johnson, Barbara. "Teaching Ignorance." In A World of Difference. Balti1nore:
Johns Hopkins University Press, 1987.
Krupnick, Catherine. "Women and Men in the Classroom: Inequality and Its
Re1nedies. 11 On Teaching and Learning. ed. Margaret M. Gullette. fournal
of the Harvard-Danforth Center for Teaching and Learning (May 1985):
18- 25.
Miller, Jean Baker. Toward A New Psychology of Women . Boston: Beacon Press,
1976.
Miller, Nancy K. "Mastery, Identity and the Politics of Work: A Feminist Teacher
in the Graduate Classroom." In Culley and Portuges, 195-99.
Pearce, Richard. The Politics of Narration : fame s foyce , William Faulkner and
Virginia Woolf. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1991.
Ong, Walter. "Agonistic Structures in Academia: Past to Present." Daedalus 103
(Fall 1974): 229-38.
Showalter, Elaine. " Feminist Criticism in the Wilderness." The New Feminist
Criticism. ed. Showalter. New York: Pantheon, 1985.
Stiver, Irene. "Beyond the Oedipus Coinplex: Mothers and Daughters." Work in
Progress. A publication of the Stone Center for Developmental Services and
Studies, Wellesley College, Wellesley, MA, no. 26, 1986.
Woolf, Virginia. Between the A cts. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1941.
- - . Mrs. Dalloway. Harcourt, Brace and World, 1925.
- - -. A Room of One's Own. New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, 1929.
- - . Three Guineas. London: The Hogarth Press, 1938.
- - -. To the Lighthouse. New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, 1927.
- - . The Waves. New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, 1931.
CHAPTER THREE

Scholarship on the Other Side: Power

and Caring in Feminist Education

REBECCA ROPERS-HUILMAN

Time is the space between you and me.

-"Prayer for the Dying," Seal

Feminist teaching is a practice that has been well documented, problema-

tized, and critiqued. Examinations of the intersections between femi-
nism and higher education have produced considerable scholarship on
feminist research, service, and pedagogy, all with the underlying quest
to understand what it 1neans to engage in feminist teaching and learn-
ing (Brown 1992i Bunch and Pollack 1983i Culley and Portuges 1985;
Frye 1980i Gore 1993; Heald 1989i Lather 1991i Maher and Tetrault
1994).
Two interwoven threads frequently e1nerge in conversations about
feminist teaching. These threads, often represented by the terms power
and caring, seem to be crucial-but not easy-concepts for feminist edu-
cators to grapple with and enact. For example, Roberta Bennett (1991)
suggested that feminist teaching generally supports attempts to create
nonhierarchical, egalitarian classrooms where teachers and students
value each others' interpretations of their lives. Yet others wonder if a
nonhierarchical class is possible or if all experiences should be (or could
be) valued in the same ways (Ellsworth 1989i Luke 1996i Ropers-Huiln1an
1998). Jennifer Gore (1993) suggested that discussions about feminist
pedagogy have often en1phasized the i1nportance of student experience
and voice, along with a simultaneous empowerment for social change.
Yet several scholars wonder whether e1npowerment is desirable or possi-
ble within the social and institutional constraints that feminist educa-
tors are generally operating (Gore 1990i Orner 1992). Carmen Luke (1996,
296) asserts, "Feminism is still fundamentally about transformation and
enlightenment and, therefore, feminist educators still attempt in their
teaching to give students access to 'better,' more inclusive, socially just,
and nonexploitative knowledges." In this vein, fe1ninist educatiQn con-
tinues to question how teachers can use their power to enact care for
students.
Still, feminist teaching is not a "pure" practice. It is affected not only
by participants but also by the institutions in which it takes place. While
many scholars have suggested the potential benefits of feminist ap-

Originally published in the Spring 1999 issue of the NWSA Journal.

SCHOLARSHIP ON THE OTHER SIDE 41

proaches to teaching and learning, others have recognized the limita-

tions of feminist teaching when it remains situated within educational
institutions (Gore 1990; Middleton 1995). Magda Gere Lewis (1993, 145)
reminds us, "Universities are both the site where reactionary and repres-
sive ideologies and practices are entrenched and, at the same time, the
site where progressive, transformative possibilities are born." Within
those contexts, then, feminist educators have realized that certain guide-
lines and expectations-both implicit and explicit-affect the ways they
can operate within higher education settings. Norms and expectations
are interpreted in multiple ways by all who choose to participate, yet no
one fully escapes the pressures and effects of standards and structures
embedded in institutional climates (Damrosch 1995). While each insti-
tution undoubtedly has its own unique characteristics, feminism has
been characterized as "subversive" to the commonly accepted traditions
of academe (Bezucha 1985). Feminist education can be cloaked with in-
stitutional trappings yet continue to seek "progressive and transforma-
tive possibilities."
I propose that one way feminism has subverted traditional roles of ed-
ucational participants in academic climates is by reconsidering the
proper or most useful roles and interactions of teachers and students, es-
pecially as they relate to power and caring. Who can or should care for
whom? Nel Noddings (1992, 14) poses the questions: "What does it mean
to care?" and "Can we 1nake caring the center of our educational efforts?"
These questions urge a consideration of the deliberate ways in which we,
as educators, can use our positions to improve educational practices
through an intense and respectful engagement with students. Yet com-
plicating these considerations are poststructural questions about the in-
stability of power within any position. Who really has "the power" in
classroo1ns? How would one know? What are the ways the use of power
helps and hinders learning? The student-teacher dichotomy whereby all
educational participants are essentialized by their place on a designated
side of the divide pervades educational literature and thought (Mayberry
and Rees 1997). I suggest that feminism offers new ways of thinking
about the usefulness of strict enforcement of that dichotomy and consid-
ers the complexities of moving from "one side" to the other-from stu-
dent to teacher and back again.
Underlying much of the literature on feminist educational experi-
ences is a concentrated and deliberate examination of the uses of power
and caring in our teaching and learning settings. In this chapter, I exam-
ine the various relationships that feminists, as both students and teach-
ers, experience in formal teaching and learning settings in higher educa-
tion. Further, I consider the complexities of expanding those relationships
within the structures that define higher education. Undergirding this
analysis is my belief that power and caring are not dichotomous concepts.
42 fEMIN1ST PEDAGOGI CAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

I do not try to get my power as a teacher "out of the way" so that I can
care for the students with whom I work . Simultaneously, I do not try to
care about students by ensuring either that they have power over others
or that we exist in a powerless classroom. Contrary to common under-
standings, I propose to examine power and caring not as dichotomous
terms, but rather as terms whose enactment lends strength each to the
other. Further, I hope to explore how power and caring intersect and, of-
ten, have unintended effects.

Philosophical Framework
The use of poststructural theories and approaches in feminist work has
been oft considered in recent years. For various reasons, many feminist
thinkers have claimed that poststructuralism could be useful for femi-
nist purposes at this particular time in history (Gore 1991; Lather 1991;
Sawicki 1991; Scott 1990). Others, though, have pointed out the potential
dangers of a wholesale adoption of poststructuralism and have suggested
that feminists should consider what it could offer cautiously, if at all (Al-
co££ 1988; Nicholson 1995). As so1neone who is quite optimistic about
what a feminist poststructuralism might offer intellectually, politically,
and strategically to my life's work in and outside of academic settings, I
have followed these discussions with great interest.
Feminist poststructuralism, as a theory that recognizes fluctuating
power relations and situational meanings, yet acknowledges our own place
as gendered actors in those relations, can be useful in understanding class-
room and educational interactions. Still, one of the primary criticisms of
poststructuralism has been its lack of applicability to "real world" set-
tings (Alcoff 1988; Lather 1991). Within higher education, one scholar has
suggested that the ra1nifications of poststructural theorizing have been
decidedly absent from our professional conversations (Bloland 1995). While
several pieces of feminist poststructural work deftly examined poststruc-
tural tenets in varied higher education settings (Ellsworth 1989; Gore
1993; Luke 1996; Orner 1992), those of us who are atte1npting to embrace
and problematize poststructural and fen1inist offerings in our higher edu-
cation settings continue to encounter much ambiguity.
One of the greatest uncertainties at this point is the use of power and
caring in teaching and learning settings. If power is fluid and shifting
(Foucault 1978), how can teachers and students enact it? Where can edu-
cational participants carve out places for action for themselves and oth-
ers? How can teachers and students use or direct power in caring ways?
Carmen Luke (1996) has pointed out the absence in the literature of dis-
cussions of those "decidedly visceral moments" when women teachers
begin to feel their power and authority in educational settings (286). My
SCHOLARSHIP ON THE OTHER SIDE 43

task herein is to detail the visceral moments of my transition from femi-

nist student to teacher and to begin a response to the question: how can
feminist educational participants enact power to care about each other? I
intend to do this while examining the usefulness of the power versus
caring dichotomy that is frequently found in feminist teaching literature
(Luke 1996) and the deconstruction of which is proposed by the theoreti-
cal approaches of feminist poststructuralism.
Fe1ninist poststructuralism has much to offer a discussion on educa-
tion as well as on teaching and learning processes (Ellsworth 1989; Gore
1993; Heald 1989; Lather 1991; Orner 1992). Not only does it problema-
tize our understandings of knowledge and how those understandings
have shifted over time, it also can aid in our understandings of power
relations within our educational systems. As Chris Weedon (1987, 139)
stated:
From a feminist poststructural perspective the process of criticism is infinite
and constantly changing. At any particular historical mo1nent, however, there
is a finite number of discourses in circulation, discourses which are in compe-
tition for meaning. It is the conflict between these discourses which creates
the possibility of new ways of thinking and new forms of subjectivity.

Criticism that acknowledges and problematizes power relations in social

interactions is particularly useful in considering the ways in which power
is related to, and supportive of, caring practices in education.
A feminist poststructural approach to education would involve a con-
scious effort to recognize and utilize the positions that one embodies as
a participant in feminist education, with the caveat that we cannot al-
ways know the effects of the actions that we choose. Further, since femi-
nist education has often advanced examinations of participants as they
relate to power and caring, our chosen actions should be evaluated with
these concepts in mind. In this analysis, drawing on feminist poststruc-
tural philosophy led me to look closely at the ways in which power rela-
tions were enacted as I, or other teachers and students, attempted to care
about others within several educational settings. I look at ways that I
perceived feminism and higher education to disrupt each other, espe-
cially as these disruptions affected my attempts to engage within femi-
nist learning environments.

Power and Caring as Student and Teacher

In August 1996, I took my first postgraduate teaching position at Louisi-
ana State University. Having completed my doctorate at the University
of Wisconsin-Madison just months before assuming my ne,-v responsi-
bilities, I found the summer of 1996 to be filled with tension, challenges,
44 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

and excitement. What would I be able to teach the graduate students

with whom I was going to work? That I would learn from them was un-
questioned in my mind. What if none of the students thought that I was
worth listening to or working with? Why was I, who at the time identi-
fied much more with the "student'' position, thought to possess certain
skills that had magically changed my status from student to teacher?
The barriers that I perceived between those two roles had seemed nearly
insurmountable. As the fall approached, I wondered at the imperma-
nence of those barriers through which I apparently had passed.
The approaching professorship was unsettling. I had experienced a
wide range of interactions with professors in graduate school and was
looking forward to the time when I determined my own path of study
and developed my own timeline for following that path. In much of my
previous education, I felt that my learning was determined by others in
ways that were sometimes uncomfortable, offensive, and even boring. I
felt that my "best interests" or educational needs were not always being
respected, or cared for. How was I to ensure that my atte1npts to provide
a structure for others' learning would not make them feel as I occasion-
ally did? As I prepared for the new position, I realized that the institu-
tionally sanctioned power that others used to determine the structures
of my learning would now be granted to me. The gravity of this responsi-
bility was both exhilarating and overwhel1ning.
My concerns were elevated by my conscious desire to hold fast to cer-
tain principles that I admired (or sorely missed) in other teachers' prac-
tices. I had recently completed my dissertation on feminist teaching
and had encountered many issues in my research participants' work that
seemed unresolvable (Ropers-Huilman 1996a). For example, was empow-
erment useful, harmful, or both when talking about what teachers should
do to or for students in their relationships? To what degree should we
strive to nurture community and/or difference in our classrooms? When
should teachers consciously try to use their power to encourage "desir-
able" or stifle "undesirable" student behaviors, in order to balance group
dyna1nics in the class or individual class 1nembers? Regardless of my
uncertainties, I wanted to identify as a feminist educator and, therefore,
knew that I would have a bumpy road ahead of me (Middleton 1993; Frye
1980; Lewis 1993; Ropers-Huilman 1997; Weiler 1988).
Many of these unresolved concerns related to the concepts of power
and caring. Primarily, I was interested in how power circulates in femi-
nist educational environments and where and how the openings for both
student and teacher agency were located and crafted. My belief is that
feminist educators can be powerful, in both deliberate and spontaneous
ways, while silnultaneously caring for the overall purposes of the class
as they relate to individual students. In this exploration, I focus on my
experiences as a feminist in transition from student to teacher and con-
SCHOLARSHIP ON THE OTHER SIDE 45

sider the factors that shape my responses to these concerns and my sub-
sequent practices. Through three teaching and learning "scenes," I ex-
amine the contradictions I encountered in attempting to enact power
and caring on both sides of the student-teacher dichotomy.

Scene One: Peeking Out from under the Cloak of Power

As a student, I saw power as ubiquitous among the faculty. Regardless of
faculty members' practices, they still had an authority over students'
lives in meaningful ways. Yet that authority, \.Vhile apparently omnipres-
ent in the academic area of my life, seemed entirely absent from the per-
sona l area. I was being conditioned toward individuality, separateness,
and hierarchy during graduate school, the time when "habits of mind are
learned and reinforced [and] ... choices made by the profession begin to
seem natural" (Damrosch 1995, 140). Yet "natural" would never have
been my chosen word to describe a learning where personal lives and
school lives were in conflict, where "school learning" was divorced from
"real learning." I was more convinced than ever that "Who we are, to
whom we are related, how we are situated all matter in what we learn,
what we value, and how we approach intellectual and moral life" !Nod-
dings 1992, xiii).
As a graduate student, I felt powerless in many arenas for the first sev-
eral years of my experience. Later, I learned that my previous analysis
was quite simplistic. Foucault (1978) reminds us that power is not stable
or consistent. While it can be situated in certain ways within discourses,
it is fluid and, therefore, always moving. Faculty and students were en-
gaged in a dance of power that was shaped by each person's talents, hesi-
tancies, limitations, and desires. Still, the norms of our graduate school
context that dictated "proper" relations between teacher, student, and
knowledge (Damrosch 1995) circumscribed the variety of dances that
might have taken place.
Considering my relation to power made me nervous. I felt sure that if
I voiced my beliefs, they wouldn't make sense to anyone else and, in wor-
rying about such an event, I was often unable to think of anything to say
at all. I thought that people would hear my words, pause briefly, and then
go on as if I hadn't said anything. This happens all too often to certain
students (hooks 1994) and has happened to me many times. I worried
that someone in a seminar, either the professor or other students would
interrupt me, and I would feel obligated to stop my thoughts in mid-
stream, acknowledging that my thoughts were not going to shape the
ensuing discussion. I recognized my lack of power in this setting and
resonated with Magda Gere Lewis's 11993, 49) words: "The potential
power of a pedagogical practice, whether in the realm of the personal or
that of the political, whether inside the academy or out, is its ability to
46 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

bring people to a point where they care to listen." It see1ned there was
only a finite amount of power available-represented, in part, in speak-
ing pro1ninence-and faculty members and a very few students held the
pot in which it was kept tightly against their bodies. Students and teach-
ers cared to listen differently to different participants.
Caring was an elusive concept for 1ne when I was a student. I was so-
cialized to think I was caring about someone when I allowed them to
speak over me, when their problems and concerns received prominence,
and when I succumbed to their wishes without burdening them with
mine. In classrooms, then, caring was a bit problematic. How was I to
learn to be a critical thinker if my thoughts were subsumed by others?
How was I to be a participant in active learning-a hallmark, in my
1nind1 of feminist education? I felt rude and uncaring if I interrupted oth-
ers, even if it was the only way to make my voice heard. I did not expect
the teachers who led my classes to "care" about 1ne. I believed that they
had better things to do and many students with much grander a1nbitions
with whom they could work. Of course, caring is no more simple a con-
cept than power. How could faculty members have demonstrated their
care for me in a way that I would have noticed or accepted it? Nel Nod-
dings (1992) asserts that caring is only realized when both the "carer" and
"cared-for" are willing and able to enter into such a relationship. If stu-
dents are resistant to such interactions with faculty members, or, in other
words, are not trained or willing to see their teachers in caring roles, is
there anything a teacher can do to break down students' preconceptions?
How can teachers and students broaden educational discourses to re-
conceptualize the intersections of power and caring in their relation-
ships? Here ,ve circle back to the difficulty of the relationships between
care and power. Who can interrupt hierarchical and distant teacher-
student interactions? In what discourses is this possible? What are the
strategies through which power and caring can be disrupted and reshaped
in learning and teaching relationships? More important, what are the as-
sumptions underlying a desire for certain shaping? And whose desires
ultimately get played out in which classrooms?
Potential responses to these questions are constantly spinning as we
draw lines in the sand between and a1nong teachers and students. Below,
I describe an experience at the end of my graduate years that stands out
prominently as shifting the sands of power and caring that demarcated
those lines within a classroom. Through this example, I hope to show
how the middle position- somewhere between student and teacher-
taught 1ne about my desires to engage in both powerful and careful edu-
cational practices.
During my last semester at the University of Wisconsin, I audited a
seminar course in 1ny major area. From the beginning, there was some-
SCHOLARSHIP ON THE OTHER SIDE 47

thing different about this course for me. While I am still uncertain about
the complex changes that occurred within that context, so1ne relevant
variables come to mind. First, I had worked for almost four years estab-
lishing a relationship with the teacher that existed both within and out-
side of the classroom. We had been in several classes together, and I felt
that I knew his style fairly well. Because of the associated power linked
to that knowledge, I felt comfortable attempting to care about and attend
to class dynamics when I felt that the current line of conversation was
not working for me or for other students in the class. Second, the profes-
sor and I had taken the time to talk about student-teacher relationships
both in general and as they applied specifically to our interactions. We
had learned a bit about each other's fallibility and knew that beyond be-
ing teacher and student, we were also people with strengths, weaknesses,
aspirations, and disappointments. In various ways, I had the sense that
I was both cared for, and worthy of expressing care, in this relationship.
Third, the class was small, met in a comfortable place off-campus, and
regularly encompassed a meal or snack together. In this way, ,-ve cared for
our physical needs for co1nfort and interaction, while in some ways
crossing the boundaries that are typically enforced by the traditional
positioning of students sitting in rows facing a teacher behind a podium
or desk. Fourth, I felt confident about my own work in a role outside that
of a student. I successfully completed my dissertation during that semes-
ter and had received positive feedback from a variety of sources, both
within and outside academe. I had learned a lot on my own volition and
felt very "in charge" of my own learning experiences. Fifth, I was not be-
ing graded-or degraded, as Page Smith (1990) suggests.
While I completed the majority of the assigned work for the class (and
additional work that I thought would add to class discussion), I regarded
the teacher's feedback on my participation as one perspective, rather
than the perspective. My valuing of people in this class was based on
much more than student or teacher status. In my mind, I was able to
more clearly see how each member of our discussion group could both
contribute to and learn from our interactions. We were all powerful and,
therefore, had the responsibility to care for each other.
Although undoubtedly other factors played a part in making this ex-
perience different from previous ones, I believe that those listed here
serve a useful purpose in exploring my transforming definitions of power
and caring as I moved from student to teacher. I learned that I enjoyed
power, to some extent. As a teacher/student, I experienced a power that
gave me the opportunity to care for myself and others. I read additional
material and developed unassigned summaries and critiques of texts. I
brought copies of additional readings that I thought would further the
class members' learning about a given issue. I liked being in control of
48 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

my learning, while attempting to contribute to others'. For various rea-

sons, power seemed to be circulating through me this time, and was fi-
nally palpable. Power was indeed alive, and I was invigorated by it.
My role as a student/teacher was complicated by various other identi-
ties, attitudes, and experiences and was situated within a unique context.
I was more than a student, just as teachers are more than teachers. As
feminist teachers and students who value inclusive classrooms wherein
power is used to care about, for, and with others, we have choices, oppor-
tunities, and responsibilities to recognize the strengths and challenges
of our own multiple positions and those of others. It is only then that
educational participants can shape practices ai1ned at creating an inclu-
sive society that discovers and utilizes the potential of its actors. This
goal, though, is not as si1nple as it seems. I turn now to the other side and
to my attempts to enact these emerging feminist beliefs from the stand-
point of a teacher.

Scene Two: Finding the Ruptures in Power and Caring

It seemed I had come too late to my realizations about the various forms
teaching and learning interactions could take. After more than two de-
cades of schooling, I had finally got it. I thought I had some substantial
control over my own learning. While this control was admittedly a com-
forting feeling, I recognized the instability of that feeling and its illusory
qualities. The time had come to move on.
When I arrived at Louisiana State University to take an assistant pro-
fessor position, power issues related to my newly acquired "teacher"
status were immediately apparent. I remember very clearly the first time
a student, who was an African American wo1nan, walked into my office.
While I was dressed quite informally and was in the middle of doing
manual labor (moving boxes into my office), the student seemed to im-
mediately acknowledge my position as a professor. I remember the un-
nerving feeling, more than the details, of this situation. The student
asked about an upcoming class I was teaching and about my work. I won-
dered why she was acting so strangely, why she cared. Why was I imme-
diately given a respect that I had to fight for with many professors as a
graduate student? Was this related to the South? Our races? Our posi-
tions as teacher and student? Through her questions and interest in my
work, this person cared for me as an intellectual, perhaps in an effort to
get me to use a presu1ned power to care for her progress in her academic
program. I knew at that moment, as I went to work trying to convince
her that I was a "normal" 1 person, that I had, in this situation, crossed to
the other side.
In the first few weeks of my graduate level class that fall, I had si1nilar
deliberations about enacting power and caring as I attempted to stretch
SCHOLARSHI P O N THE OTHER SID E 49

my role to include active educational participation. After the first day of

class, I wrote the following in my teaching journal:
I realized that most people looked at me when they were introducing them-
selves, rather than at their other colleagues. The people in the class are so
experienced and have so much to offer. . .. Should we always push as far as we
can? Or should we place barriers in front of ourselves to limit our experiences
if we don't think we can contribute? . .. In some sense, if I don't speak out
and take an active part in this discourse, I will live and die without being
heard-without making a difference. (1996b)

I started this entry concerned that students were talking prilnarily to

me instead of to their other class colleagues. I wanted to i1nrnediately
refute the idea that all students would need to respond to and craft their
"answers" for me. This concern, though, quickly turned to a concern about
my need or desire to participate. I wanted to enact power to care for oth-
ers, but I also wanted to use that power to insist my contributions be at-
tended to-and cared for-as well. While I didn't want to leave anyone
out, my gendered role of being a nurturer, while useful and expected in
some ways, threatened to push my contribution out of the conversations.
I soon learned that even if I had wanted to remain silent, students'
strong expectations for teacher direction would have made that very dif-
ficult. Power and caring were both part of 1ny responsibility as a feminist
educator. I had to discover how to enact them in a way that was useful,
both for students and for myself.
On the second night of this class, I reflected again on the ways in which
power and caring can be manifested in educational environ1nents:
I hope that people are soon able to find more of a voice in arguing with each
other. I hope I continue to keep learning how to do that better. . .. We do have
some caretakers in the class . I'm one of them. We want there to be disruption,
but we want others to disrupt each other within the bounds of our own nor-
malcy. What a fiasco we've got going on here. What does the phrase, " Be nice"
really mean? There's been some discussion that it m eans different things in
different cultures (Moffatt 1989; hooks 1994). Doesn't it relate to what we
think our end goal for somebody should be? If we love or care for someone,
shouldn't we want an outcome to be the best possible for them? Therefore,
maybe it's not the process, but the end that would be most important. I guess I
really don't subscribe to that view, though. How could I when we're always in
process? Therefore, what we're doing right now needs to be important. It can't
be put -off until we know more or until we feel more competent. We need to
engage with Each Other, Each Time in caring ways that reflect our constructed
hopes and desires. We're always operating with a working definition. (1996b)

Again, this entry demonstrated my struggles to move from being a

feminist student who was concerned primarily with my own interactions
in the classroom, to a feminist teacher who used my power to ensure
50 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

caring interactions of all involved. That change of focus, though, does not
lead to clear and distinct ways of behaving in relation to power and car-
ing. In an effort to care, can and should we enact power over others? When
and how? To what degree is it our choice to do that? I was beginning to
learn that power was a fluid and reciprocal relationship in educational
interactions. In other words, the power to care about students was only
possible when students enacted power to care about what I could offer
the1n.
In the final exa1nple I present here, I struggled with opening class dis-
cussion so much that I minimized what I could contribute to the inter-
change. After the third meeting of this class, I wrote:

In class we talked about feminism-and brainstormed words that students

associated with fe1ninism. We put them all on the board-I felt somewhat
radical writing ;' lesbians" and "bitchy" on the board. I didn't share what I
knew about feminism with students, though. In fact, I really didn't include
any of my adjectives or "thought words" on the board. I feel like I may have
missed an opportunity to let them question me in terms of my experience
thinking about and working within fe1ninism. I also feel like I didn't provide
any sort of "closure" whatsoever. Now, I know that's OK according to my
own epistemologies and pedagogical preferences, but it sure felt uneasy-like
they wanted the answer and I didn't give it to them. Maybe in class next week
I'll give them an opportunity to ask me about feminism and my thoughts if
they're interested. (1996b)

While I have consistently received very positive feedback on this par-

ticular class session from a variety of students, I wonder whether this
was the most useful approach to our learning. The environment I helped
to craft did a few things well, I think. First, it opened up the .discussion
in a safe way, so that even though students knew I supported feminism,
they voiced both positive and derogatory views of the feminisms that
they had encountered in their lived experiences. I cared about students
and their perspectives on one of my primary political commitments.
Second, the class provided students with an opportunity to contribute
and have every contribution valued, regardless of their contradictions.
Third, it provided a forum through which students could share their
perspectives with each other and, in doing so, could learn from each
other's experiences. On the other hand, I struggled with my participa-
tion. While ad1nittedly I enacted power in initiating this discussion in
class, my beliefs were only implicitly stated during this meeting. In try-
ing to care about students and respect their views, I chose not to enact
the "teacher role" who "taught" them historical and political infor1na-
tion about feminist movement. In crafting an 11open11 space, I relinquished
my power to care about the knowledge that I might have been able to
share.
SCHOLARSHIP ON THE OTHER SIDE 51

Scene Three: Reconsidering Power Ruptures in Classroom Practices

As evidenced in the discussion above, I have spent much tim.e deliberat-
ing over the desired roles of teachers and students in fen1inist education,
or rather what I desired. Literature on feminist pedagogy, while helpful
in a variety of ways, does not provide me with easy or certain answers
about the enactment of various feminist principles in my classrooms. It
would violate its own assertions if it attempted to do so, since an ac-
knowledgment of the personal as political necessitates an examination
of relationships as uniquely embedded in particular contexts. The chal-
lenge of engaging with/in personally and locally defined teaching and
learning practices has been appealing to rne as I struggle with the issues
raised in and outside of various classrooms.
Recently, I inadvertently initiated an incident that provoked the many
complexities of trying to utilize my power in caring ways as a teacher. In
a class session focusing on teaching and learning relationships, I pro-
posed a change in the syllabus. While I believed that I was contributing
to students' learning of class material, the discussion that unfolded
taught 1ne about the effects of power and caring in educational discourse
as well.
As is customary in the classes I teach, I address administrative is-
sues at the beginning of class so that we can move onto an unencum-
bered dialogue about the class texts for the rest of the time. That day, I
proposed to revise the syllabus by omitting several readings and replac-
ing them with a writing assignment (with a maximum of five pages)
reflecting on the readings that we had already covered. After I handed
out my proposal, everyone was silent as they reviewed the terms. While
no one immediately objected, the rousing appreciation that I expected
for my flexibility did not occur. What I perceived to be an act of care on
my part was apparently not being welcomed by others in the room. In-
stead, people started asking clarifying questions. Eventually, one stu-
dent expressed her discomfort with the change and her reluctance to
support it.
In my efforts to understand her hesitancy and other students' less than
enthusiastic responses, I asked them if they thought the writing would
take more time than their readings would have. I said that I needed to
reflect, not just race through additional readings, and asked, "Aren't you
feeling that, too?" I wondered why they weren't unquestioningly embrac-
ing this teacher-supported break to reflect on what they were learning
through our class this semester. I told them that I wouldn't be grading
their papers except to indicate that they had turned them in. I merely
wanted to see the writing so that I could dialogue with each student as
an individual. Without extensive discussion, we came to an "agree-
ment" that we would have these reflection papers due in two weeks
52 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

instead of one. We then moved to our readings for the day, one of which
(ironically) was Elizabeth Ellsworth's (1989) piece entitled, "Why doesn't
this feel empowering?: Working through the repressive myths of libera-
tory pedagogy."
Given these events and the complexity of the issues that Ellsworth
proposes in her work, I might have anticipated that we had not yet fin -
ished the discussion about the changed syllabus. By the end of the class,
stu dents had told me in many ways that my actions in proposing this
change were both useful and problematic. They often invoked themes
found in Ellsworth's work to support their concern. While some students
thought it would be helpful to have time to reflect without having the
responsibility of additional readings, others. reminded me that they had
not expressed the need to reflect. I was the one who had made that deter-
mination. I was presuming to know what was best. And as Jennifer Gore
(1990, 63) suggested:
In attempts to empower others we need to acknowledge that our agency has
limits, that we might "get it wrong" in assuming we know what would be
empowering for others, and that no matter what our aims or how we go about
"empowering," our efforts will be partial and inconsistent.
S01ne students believed that it 1night be helpful for the1n to have my
feedback on their work as a way to improve their writing skills, espe-
cially before the final paper was to be handed in and graded. Others indi-
cated that they felt an incredible pressure to "produce" "good" writing if
I was to read it and that it was this pressure that they were resisting. Fi-
nally, as I was trying to reassure them that this exercise was not about
me grading them but was instead about their learning and reflection, one
student told me, "We don't trust you that much." My i1nmediate re-
sponse was, "You shouldn't." With Ellsworth's caution that we can never
be divested of the complexities of our identities in teaching and learning
settings, I recognized the instability of my guarantees, the flexibility of
1ny assurances, and the sound "rationale" that students were using when
they distrusted my attempts to enact power and care.
While this statement will probably be eternally problematic in my
mind, my initial reaction was one mired in compassion, intellectual
stimulation, and respect for the classroom discourse that we had created,
because it had evoked such a "risky" statement. I felt trusted because
this student had the courage to tell me that his trust for me only went so
far. I was reminded of Patricia Hill Collins' (1991) insistence on the im-
portance of the discussions we have about the relationship between trust
and truth: "Epistemological choices about who to trust, what to believe,
and why so1nething is true are not benign academic issues. Instead, these
concerns tap the fundamental question of which versions of truth will
SCHOLARSHIP ON THE OTHER SIDE 53

prevail and shape thought and action" (202-3). The relationship between
trust and classroom interaction was emphasized as others began to voice
their agreement with the student who expressed some initial hesitancy
in embracing my proposed changes. They said that they had been feeling
similarly but did not feel comfortable to speak their thoughts because
they did not know me well enough. The limits of our relationships were
educating all of us about the complexities of feminist teaching and
learning.
Throughout this discussion, I felt honored by students' forthrightness
with me about their perceptions of the classroom discourses that we
were struggling within. Yet, I also felt trapped by the constraints of
pedagogy that attempts to enact power in efforts to empower and care in
efforts to ensure comfort, ease, and positive outcomes in learning. I at-
tempted to "care" about others through my "flexibility" in the use of
my teacher-power. But I realized that my caring had different effects for
individual students and was not desired or requested by all students. As
I tried to change the relationships I had with students by providing "bet-
ter learning opportunities" for them, I came to see that with various
power sources that I claim, I do not know the effects that my caring
will have. Further, if I proclaim to enact care in classrooms, while si-
multaneously trying to reposition teacher-student dichotomies through
the lenses of liberatory ideals, my caring becomes suspect. If I can never
omit power from our classrooms, then my assertions that any part of
our relationship can be free from that dynamic co1ne dangerously close
to lying.

Final Thoughts
What then are we dealing with when researchers and teachers are made to
rehearse the method for so long that they forget the purpose of the rehearsal
and they all begin to do the two-step and try to eliminate from the dance
floor those who would do the wild interpretive dance? Is method a need to
define! To critiquet To remove?
-Leck 1994, 93.

I learned many things about power and caring in feminist education

through these classroom interactions. First, I learned that regardless of
the seemingly clear lines between teachers and students in classroom
contexts, all educational participants have the ability to enact the power
to care. Power and caring are interwoven to form the wire on which we
perch our performances: wild and interpretive, or otherwise. The em-
bodi1nent of multiple educational positions, though, dictates a balancing
54 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

act that is always being modified. Learning and teaching in feminist

classrooms depend on continual attention to the ways in which our
power is taking effect, and the ways that our caring practices are being
perceived.
Second, I relearned the iinportance of actively recognizing and em-
bodying both teacher and learner positions when I interact with others in
educational environments. Even when positioned as an institutionally
sanctioned "teacher," I find that what has been conceptualized as the
"other side" of the teacher-student dichotomy has qualities that are far
too appealing to me to give up. Learning is embedded in teachingi to tear
one fro1n the other would greatly diminish the possibilities for either.
For students, though, it is risky for teachers to desire the "student side"
and claim that crossing over is entirely possible and educationally use-
ful. As students reminded me in the incident described above, our plea-
sure, power, and ability to care is marked and modified always by our
multiple identity positions-one of which places us on one side or an-
other of the teacher-student dichotomy-regardless of the pleasure class
participants were deriving from our experiences. Carmen Luke warns,
"Pedagogy without a locus of authority thus risks deceit: embodied dif-
ference and differential power access camouflaged under false pretence
of allegedly equal subject positions" (1996, 297). It would be disingenu-
ous and dangerous for me to ever mislead students to believe that we are
in all ways equal; I can always retreat back to my side, a side which
would not currently welcome them. It is dangerous for students if teach-
ers forget their axes of privilege. In my current transition fro1n student to
teacher, it is most likely easier for me to remember multiple positions
now than it will be after many years. I am learning that the assumptions
and practices of an academy that positions us on one side or the other
of a teacher-student dichotomy have already begun to restructure my
thinking.
Third, our very modes of learning are deeply embedded in assump-
tions of which we are not always aware. For example, in the third scene
above, I thought I was using my power to care by giving students the
"opportunity" to '1reflect. 11 My 1'caring/' though, had strict parameters.
Students had to reflect on paper, to be handed in to a teacher, who at the
end of the ter1n assigns a grade. I would imagine that no student in the
class felt free to say during this assignment, "I've already been reflect-
ing, teacher, so I don't need to do this assign1nent, but thanks for the
opportunity." Reflect. Present an image back. If students are reflecting
for themselves, why is it necessary for a teacher to be involved with the
process? At the same time, could it be helpful for a teacher to be in-
volved? This tension, I believe, will be important to consider in future
interactions.
SCHOLARSHIP ON THE OTHER SIDE 55

Finally, I came to believe that it is imperative that we, as feminist

educators, consciously model what we value and how we think values
should take shape in educational environments. As Jo Anne Pagano be-
lieves, "To act is to theorize" (1991, 194). Our actions become state-
ments of our beliefs, of the theories that guide us as educators. Deci-
sions about how to interact with others are not easy, though, and require
a willingness to continue movement around prescribed dichotomies in
order to view situations from other locations. We need to realize the
ways in which who we are as teachers is defined by the students with
whom we are interacting. Further, the ways in which teachers and stu-
dents can be powerful is related to the ways in which we have con-
structed caring relationships within our classrooms. Understandably,
the struggles and choices we encounter in educational settings are not
clear or predictable in their effects. Yet we have an obligation as the ones
who are vested with an assumed power, even if that power is easily and
regularly disrupted, to assess and address the effects that it is having on
our classrooms.
The choices we make in our classrooms as we interact with students
are vestiges of our beliefs about what educational experiences are sup-
posed to be like. We need to share our struggles with students as we ne-
gotiate relationships supported and disrupted by power and caring prac-
tices. By our modeling, we teach students what we think it means to be
feminist educational participants. Simultaneously, though, feminist
teachers and students can model to each other the complexities of using
our power to care about each other and the educational environments
that we create.

Note
1. I wonder as I write this: What is "normal?" Is my student status normal? Is
my teacher status normal? It is troubling to me that I want again to "care"
for others by diminishing the unconditional/unproven respect that my voice
accords. I want to "reduce" my "power" because I have experienced the
hurtful place of being on the opposite sides of those who have seemed to
hoard it. Poststructural conceptions of power, then, are difficult for me here.
If power supposedly circulates and acts through each of us, why do some
persons feel like they are unable to find or enact their power? For example,
while Sue Middleton 11993) proposes that women's silence can be a form of
resistance, I struggle with knowing that my silence, my "resistance," lim-
ited my options for participation in educational environments. My shaping
of my own and others' knowing was sadly lacking. I wondered about myself
and others who chose silence, "What knowledge ... do students have of col-
lege classrooms that makes the decision not to talk a 'realistic' decision?"
56 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL TH EORY AND PRAXIS

(Karp and Yoels 1976/ 1994, 457). To what degree is silence a decision to resist
or disengage with the acting out of power and care in classrooms?

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CHAPTER FO UR

Beyond Essentialisms: Team Teaching Gender

and Sexuality

DEBBIE STORRS AND JOHN MIHELICH

The last decade has witnessed reform in higher education in terms of

both curriculum and pedagogical practice. One important direction of
curriculum reform has been toward a race, class, and gender integrated
multicultural curriculum. Women's studies has played a key role in pro-
viding such courses. In addition to advocating for a multicultural and
gender-inclusive curriculum, many feminist scholars have pushed for
pedagogical refor1n, arguing that we must attend to how we teach as well
as what we teach. Part of how we teach includes who teaches what we
teach.
These questions informed our development of a team-taught course
on gender and sexuality. The focus of the course is rooted in our shared
professional interests in the critique of and challenge to essentialist
socio-cultural constructions of gender and also on the intersection of
class and race with those constructions. In both the course and in the
present chapter we confront essentialist-gendered constructions on two
fronts. First, we employ an inclusive curriculum, including a historical
and cross-cultural comparative approach, to problematize contemporary
American gender constructions and assumptions. We move beyond a
static notion of fem ininity and female experience, to the processual di-
chotomous construction of femininity in relation to masculinity, to ulti-
mately a 1nore fluid understanding of genders and sexualities. Secondly,
our mixed-gender, cross-discipline teaching team, through methods and
example, explicitly and implicitly defies the essentialist notions and ex-
pectations produced by American gender constructions, including as-
sumptions about who should teach what to whom.
This essay reflects our attempts to promote educational reform toward
liberatory education, which is really about broadening what is taught,
how it is taught, and preparing students to be part of the solution in
working toward nonoppressive gender relations. We first review the larger
debates concerning reform in higher education, then we situate our posi-
tion within these debates, and finally we discuss our approach to the re-
form questions of who should teach what to whom.

Originally published in the Spring 1998 issue of the NWSA Journal.

60 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

What Is Taught
Curriculum integration involves attempts to broaden general education
by including a wider range of experience, perspectives, and knowledge.
Many universities have implemented mandatory courses on race/gen-
der/ethnic relations of one form or another as part of the undergraduate
curriculum. 1 Women's studies courses increasingly fulfill many uni-
versities' diversity requirements. The growing institutionalization and
11
1nainstreaming" of women's studies at many universities make wom-
en's studies a potentially important player in successfully transforming
the curriculum.
While historically women's studies has concentrated on white U.S.
women's experiences, programs are increasingly attentive to issues of
diversity. The focus on diversity expands women's studies curriculum in
two ways. First, the vast majority of women's studies scholars and teach-
ers recognize how women's differing social locations, particularly in
terms of race, social class, and sexuality, within the United States signifi-
cantly shape their experiences (Butler 1991; Bulkin 1980; Gardner, Dean,
and Mckaig 1989). The experiences and contributions of women of color,
working-class women, and lesbian and bisexual women are increasingly
addressed, although techniques to illustrate the intersections of race,
gender, and class in the experiences of women take different forms. Sec-
ondly, curriculum reform within women's studies encourages a global-
ization of women's studies. Teachers and scholars have broadened their
analysis beyond their national borders, examining, for example, the rela-
tionship between industrialized and underprivileged nations on women's
experiences and status (De Danaan 1990).
The debate over how to best incorporate feminist principles in ways
that reflect the diversity of women's experiences reveals the range of
feminist pedagogical practices that characterize women's studies as well
as more mainstream academic departments. Chow (1985) delineates
three teaching strategies that have been employed in sociology to incor-
porate the perspectives of women of color. These strategies are also used
by feminist educators in women's studies and gender studie.s as they
grapple with the complexity of women's issues and experiences.
The first approach used by scholars to integrate diversity in th_e study
of women is the "comparison strategy." This is a typical strategy used in
gender studies courses where men's and women's experiences are com-
pared or in women's studies where white wo1nen and women of color are
compared. The advantage of this technique is that it leads to a broader
exposure of materials, and students begin to explore the diversity within
the groups of women and men. The disadvantage of this approach is that
all too often women of color or women in general beco1ne viewed by stu-
BEYOND ESSENTIALISMS 61

dents as an appendage to the real focus of the course. In short, women of

color in women's studies courses or women in gender studies can become
tokenized (regardless of teacher intent). This strategy fa ils to question
the paradigm that assumes white women and men are central categories
of analysis to which other groups are compared (Chow 1985, 303-4).
The second approach identified by Chow is the "special treatment"
technique in which women of color, lesbian women, or international
women are bracketed and discussed in independent courses. The advan-
tage of such a course is that students are given more time to explore in-
depth issues and experiences of subgroups of women. The problem with
this approach is that typically the independent courses are not institu-
tionalized; they are not a part of the regular curriculum. The institutional
marginality of these courses can convey a subtle message about the rele-
vancy and importance of such topics. The same holds true within gender
studies where courses focused on male experiences are offered indepen-
dently of those that focus on female experiences. The division of inde-
pendent female and male courses also runs the risk of neglecting the re-
lationship between femininity and 1nasculinity as they are constructed
in the United States and elsewhere. Many women's studies programs and
courses resist incorporating a gendered analysis that also includes men's
experiences. This resistance is based on the historical, political, and phil-
osophical motivation of women's studies to position women and women's
experiences at the center of analysis and curriculum, unlike traditional
and mainstream curriculum. While we support the important project to
center women's experiences in women's studies, we feel that an effective
gendered analysis should incorporate men's experiences at some point.
Gender studies and more mainstream disciplines such as sociology and
anthropology perhaps can provide a gendered analysis that incorporates
both women's and men's experiences without diluting the practical and
philosophical basis of women's studies (Chow 1985, 304-5).
The third strategy to incorporate diversity into education is a "main-
streaming" approach in which women of color are incorporated into courses
about women, and diverse groups of men and women are incorporated
into classes on gender and sexuality as part of the existing curriculum
(Chow 1985, 305-6). This approach offers the advantage of shifting the
paradigm and student's thinking in more inclusive ways. It is most use-
ful in teaching about sex and gender because the approach posits sexuali-
ties and genders as the focus of inquiry and then uses cross-cultural ex-
amples to illustrate both the variation and siinilarities within and across
cultures. The major limitation of this approach is the abundance of mate-
rial on the topic, which often makes it difficult to incorporate it all into
one course. Teachers face the task of limiting the scope of classes in order
to make them manageable but still broad enough to reveal the variation,
62 FEMINIST PEDAGOG ICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

change, and fluidity of gender and sexuality systems. We continually

grapple with this problem in our course but attempt to reach a reasonable
balance between breadth and manageability.

How It Is Taught
Many feminist scholars, while generally agreeing on the necessity of
race and gender inclusive curriculum, argue that pedagogy is a key site in
the transfonnation of our educational system (Carby 1992, Schniedewind
1993). For exa1nple1 Flintoff (1993) argues that we cannot focus simply on
"what is taught and learned [but we need to focus onJ how it is taught in
the sense of the broadest social relations within which learning takes
place" (p. 74).
Women's studies programs have a long history of challenging the so-
cial relations of learning. Several characteristics differentiate a feminist
approach to education from a traditional one. One of the funda.m ental
goals of a feminist approach to education is the replacement of hierarchi-
cal relations with egalitarian and cooperative relations. Schniedewind
(1993) provides concrete examples of how this goal can be met through
cooperative learning and evaluation methods including student task
groups, the well-known jigsaw format, group outcome grades, and con-
tract grading. A second goal, correlated with the first, more specifically
addresses the visibility and vocality of both students and instructors.
Feminist teachers encourage students to express themselves and help
make the link between their own personal experiences to larger politi-
cal, social, cultural, and economic structures that shape their lives. Re-
jecting hegemonic views of society, feminist educators attempt to pro-
vide students with opportunities to counter dominant understandings
through an analysis of their personal experiences. These two tenets are
embraced in order to achieve a more encompassing goal of empowering
students and faculty. Instructors approach this goal in different ways, but
a common practice is to help students view themselves as active agents
of social change. Scanlon (1993) suggests ways to encourage students to
become political activists. She recommends several assignments that re-
quire students to participate in events outside the classroom as . well as
group projects that bring feminism alive.
While feminist educators share the vision of liberatory education
through cooperative methods and egalitarian relations, the difficulties
of applying feminist ideals in educational arenas are highlighted by re-
cent scholars. Feminists educators explore a range of difficulties typi-
cally experienced including student resistance (Bohmer and Briggs 1991),
classroom dynamics (Cannon 1990), and emotional responses when
teaching about oppression and hierarchy (Lee 1993). Others have been
BEYOND ESSENTIALISMS 63

critical of the very pedagogical practices typically employed by women's

studies teachers. For example, Ellsworth (1989) revea ls how many of
these practices actually serve to reinforce relations of domination be-
cause rationalist assumptions and institutional educational philosophy
restrict full escape. She challenges the belief that classrooms are safe
spaces for students to speak freely about their experiences because they
are essentially microcosms of the larger racist, sexist, and homophobic
society in which we live. She also criticizes the ability of teachers to
help bring subjugated knowledges to the forefront or center of analysis
when they too are not free from their own social locations and internal-
ized oppressions. Ellsworth's criticisms reveal the inherent difficulties
of developing a feminist and empowering educational experience within
hierarchical institutions. She advocates the use of "affinity groups,"
groups of students- clustered around particular points of identity-that
meet outside of the classroom to provide safer places for students to
share their contextual, multiple, and contradictory voices. While her as-
sessment of commonly used pedagogical techniques is helpful, she falls
prey to a common problem in women's studies that we discuss in the
next section.

Who Should Teach What to Whom

A key debate within multicultural curriculum reform centers on the
question of who should teach what and to whom. Specifically, the debate
has focused on the appropriate role of white 1nales in teaching about op-
pression and social inequality lsee, for example, Gerschick 1993). The
preference for female instructors in women's studies courses is premised
on utilizing personal experience as the basis of feminist pedagogy (Cul-
ley and Portuges 1985). This preference stems from an implicit assump-
tion that only those who have experienced gender oppression have the
knowledge and right to speak about it.
In a classic argument, Jaggar 11977-1978) argues that men should not
teach courses on feminism because of 1nen and women's different social
locations, privileges, and experiences. While Jaggar concedes that men
may learn about sexual discrimination through formal mechanisms,
their inability to draw on personal experiences severely limits their ef-
fectiveness as teachers. Jaggar also argues that men should not teach
courses on feminism because it replicates and reinforces the gendered
power differences that typify universities and society at large. This phil-
osophical and political basis has shaped the curriculum and the gendered
make-up of women's studies.
Recently, however, feminists have criticized such a politics on sev-
eral fronts. First, because it rests on a universal notion of women's
64 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

experiences, a politics of experience ignores the diversity of that experi-

ence. The notion of a common oppression based on gender is widely
critiqued by hooks (1989), Spellman (1988), and others who highlight
the ways in which race, ethnicity, social class, sexuality, and other so-
cial locations differentially shape women's lives. The globalization of
women's studies only complicates the notion of common oppression. A
cross-cultural approach, as we discuss later, helps illustrate the social
construction of gender systems and further exposes the extent of diversity
of women's experience. However, the number of instructors who can
draw from actual cross-cultural experience to enhance their teaching ef-
fectiveness is probably minimal.
Secondly, a politics of experience often has the unintended result of
reducing one's complex identity into its most visible component. For ex-
ample, "a male professor ... is typically reduced to his 'maleness,' an
Asian professor to his or her 'Asianness,' a lesbian professor to her 'lesbi-
anness,' and so on" (Fuss 1989, p. 116). A politics of experience essential-
izes both students and instructors and presumes singular notions of
identity. The inadequacy and critique of this presumption, voiced by
many feminists of color, is illustrated by the famous title, All the Women
Are White, All the Blacks Are Men , But Some of Us Are Brave: Black
Women's Studies (Hull, Scott, and Smith 1982). The title succinctly cap-
tures the historical invisibility of women of color which results from
simplified and rigid notions of identity.
Last, in addition to dismissing aspects of experience and facets of
one's identity, such a politics masks the relationality, and the accompa-
nying fluidity, that exists between male/female, black/white, and other
dichotomously socially constructed identities and social relations. As
Lucal (1996) and others note, the traditional approach to teaching about
race locates race as something only people of color possess and experi-
ence, masking the privileges associated with whiteness. More impor-
tantly, the traditional approach to race masks the relationality of racial
categories, identities, and privileges. The intelligibility and subjectivity
of whiteness, whether consciously articulated as an identity or not, is nec-
essarily based on the constructed boundaries of nonwhiteness.
The same relationality and invisibility of hierarchy exists for gendered
and sexual categories, identities, and relations. As members of gender
categories constructed in relation to one another, both men and women
are gendered beings. Yet, men often lack a gendered consciousness and
identity much the sa1ne way whites lack a racial consciousness (McIn-
tosh 1992; Kimmel and Messner 1992). This obliviousness is a basic ele-
ment of the privilege of dominance (Helms and Carter 1990). The lack of
male instructors within gender inclusive curriculum implicitly supports
the perception of men as genderless, excuses men from taking responsi-
bility for gender privileges, and allows them to evade (or denies them the
BEYOND ESSENTIALISMS 65

opportunity to attempt) the often challenging task of teaching emotional

and personally relevant topics. In addition, if courses on gender fulfill
university curriculum requirements, one must teach these couses to
male students. Yet, the logic of a politics of experience would preclude
men from understanding oppression, women from teaching it to men, or
both.
A key argument for female teachers in women's studies is that the
development of rapport based on similarities between students and teach-
ers may increase teaching effectiveness. Rapport between female in-
structors and female students founded on similarities in the experience
of oppression may be one avenue toward teaching effectiveness, but, as
we see above, this similarity-based rapport rests on the problematic as-
sumption that the experience is shared. Further, teaching about women
or gender is not only about oppressions. 2 Therefore, similarities in the
experience of oppression, a politics of experience, does not provide the
only, nor perhaps the primary, foundation on which we can build rapport.
For instance, one of the most useful foundations we find to build rapport
beyond similarity of experience, is through acknowledging the diversity
of students' experience. We also develop rapport through an environment
of gender equality in the classroom promoted by our interactions with
one another as instructors and with students. Later in this chapter we
discuss more thoroughly our interactions with one another.
While we are critical of Jaggar's conclusions, we agree that men and
women do have different social experiences by virtue of the social con-
struction of gender in our society. Likewise, men teaching about wom-
en's experiences can reinforce the gender hierarchy that exists. We agree
on these basic fundamentals but believe the insistence on female in-
structors teaching about women's experiences, feminism, or gender fails
to capture adequately the ways in which, men too, are gendered beings or
how masculinity is socially lnot necessarily) constructed in relation to
fe1nininity. It also evades the practical reality that approximately one
half of the student population that we are trying to teach about equity is
male.
We now turn to our mixed-gendered team teaching approach as an
example of one creative, constructive response to the problems outlined
by Jaggar and ourselves. We believe a team-teaching model, incorporat-
ing the personal knowledge we have as gendered beings, but not relying
exclusively on a politics of experience, presents a partial solution to the
problems of men teaching about gender. Team teaching allows us to
challenge essentialist assumptions about and within gender categoriza-
tion and to include our lived experiences as a white man and a woman of
color in the classroom when appropriate. We also believe that our cross-
cultural comparative class content facilitates the problematizing and
understanding of gender constructions.
66 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

What follows is a discussion of our experiences in a course which fo -

cuses on cross-cultural constructions of gender and sexuality. We offer
our experiences not as a blueprint for others to follow but as a way to
open the dialogue on how to team teach inclusive curriculum in ways
that effectively deconstruct the limiting and essentialist notions of gen·
der and sexuality, both in terms of the curriculum and in terms of
teaching.

The Course: Culture, Gender, and Sexuality

The Team
One of the advantages of team teaching is the potential to use, when ap·
propriate, the individual areas of expertise, teaching styles, and personal
experiences of two or more gendered, racialized human beings. One of
our team is a male cultural anthropologist with expertise in American
culture and psychological anthropology. The other member of the tea1n
is a female sociologist whose expertise is in feminist studies and United
States race and ethnic relations. Both of us are well versed in theories of
gender subordination and stratification. We use our different areas of ex-
pertise to develop a course that exa1nines the social construction of gen-
der and sexuality across cultures.

Course Objectives
In our course we undertake a two-pronged approach to challenge the es-
sentialist assumptions underlying the construction of dominant Ameri-
can gender and sexual ideologies. We first confront static, essentialist
and ethnocentric notions of gender and sexuality by exploring the varied
historical and cross-cultural gender and sexual constructions. Our inclu-
sive curriculum demonstrates the relationality and fluidity as well as the
impact of the sociocultural environment in the process of gender con-
structions and sexua l meanings. We also attempt to move beyond stu-
dent's essentialist expectations of us, as gendered beings, in terms of our
shared abilities and knowledge of the topics at hand. Both of these goals
point to the overall higher education project of raising awareness and
encouraging students to question and critique their own constructions
and meanings, in this case as they pertain to gender and sexuality.

The Social Construction of Gender and Sexuality

In order to reveal the multiple expressions of gender and sexualities, we
use an interdisciplinary body of literature including case studies from
the field of anthropology (we found the work of feminist anthropologists
BEYOND ESSENTIALISMS 67

particularly helpful), history, psychology, queer theory, and sociology.

Our exploration of both gender and sexuality within one course stems
from the recognition of how these two constructs and relations are linked
(Kamano and Khor 1996, 128- 31).
We begin the course with a thorough discussion of ethnocentrism
and cultural relativism and with an explanation of the essentialist-
constructionist problematic (see, for example, Abramson and Pinkerton
1995; Stein 1992). We advance the possibility that much of what students
think they "know" to be "true" about gender and sexuality is in fact so-
cially constructed. We also argue that, for various reasons, some of which
we think we know and some which we don't know, there is both varia-
tion and some consistencies in gender constructions across cultures.
Through the use of historical, anthropological, and sociological evi-
dence, we discuss the construction of gender and sexualities and how
they are maintained and changed in various sociocultural contexts. Spe-
cifically, we examine the sexual practices, meanings, and identities of
men and women in various cultures and times. 3 We continually compare
and contrast the student's own culture and the practices of the world's
other cultures in an effort to make the strange familiar and the familiar
strange (Spiro 1982).4 An understanding of the variation in constructions
of gender and sexuality across cultures challenges students' essentialist
views about normalcy and naturalness.
In addition to a cross-cultural survey of gender constructions, we ex-
amine in depth the construction of masculinity and femininity along
with sexualities within particular cultures. In-depth analysis and de-
scription, the hallmarks of ethnography, effectively illustrate the rela-
tional nature of masculinity and femininity as well as the range of identi-
ties, alternative categories, and practices available in any culture at one
time. The variation within a culture and social roles, an element of cultural
systems often skirted by ethnography (although less so today), is often as
informative as a cross-cultural survey in terms of de-essentializing and
destabilizing notions of gender.
While not placing United States constructions of gender and sexuality
at the center of analysis, we incorporate the work of postmodern femi-
nists and queer theorists who have been at the forefront of challenging
categories of sex, sexuality, and gender. Using their insights, we discuss
how dominant beliefs about sexuality result in the invisibility and era-
sure of those who do not conform to our categories. For example, the
categories of homosexual and heterosexual, widely accepted by both the
United States general public and social scientists, often force those who
are bisexual, or who do not fit into one of the dichotomous categories, to
choose their "real" identity (see, for example, George 1993; Lorber 1996).
This same assumption is partially responsible for the phenomenon of
operative transexuals although certainly the medicalization of sexuality
68 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

is also a key factor. Examining how our own culture has restricted pos-
sible categories and reshaped practices and experiences to fit within con-
ventional dichoto1nous categories is often a difficult idea for students to
accept because these categories have become so naturalized and unques-
tioned. In addition to discussing transgendered and transexual experi-
ences in the United States, the cross-cultural component adds to this
exploration and questions students' conventional beliefs about the di-
chotomous and essential nature of our own gender and sexual systems.
This examination also encourages students to move beyond a politics of
identity as we discuss the variation across cultures. Students' logic that
only those who experience certain events should be able to accurately
discuss them cannot be applied so easily when we address cross-cultural
gender and sexual syste1ns.
The politics of experience is clearly inadequate in the cross-cultural
study of gender and sexuality. Both of us, while informed and knowl-
edgeable about cultural practices and meanings, have never experienced
many of the practices we discuss. Clitoridectomy, purdah, the experi-
ences of hijras, and transvestitism are topics about which we have read
extensively, but not personally experienced. We use ethnographies and
case studies that d.escribe and explain the context of such practices and
identities.
While these are obvious examples of why a politics of experience is
limiting, we believe sirnilar situations exist when female instructors
teach about United States gender experiences and inequality. Because
women differ in tenns of class and racial privilege, sexual orientation,
physical abilities, cultural traditions, personal biographies, understand-
ing, self-reflection, and so on, being a woman does not inherently provide
female instructors with insight into the diverse and lived experiences of
all ,-vomen within the United States or the ability to teach about it.

Gender and Dominance

A second goal in teaching this class is to challenge the essentialist logic
of gendered assumptions as they occur in everyday social interaction. We
are particularly concerned with classroom interactions and with stu-
dents' assumptions about instructors. The course content in which we
explicitly and critically consider the gender system of American culture
inherently supports this challenge. However, focusing on the interac-
tions in the classroom, we take both explicit and implicit pedagogical
steps to contest these gendered assumptions. We actively highlight and
challenge assumptions and structure our teaching to minimize the op-
portunity for gendered assumptions to e1nerge.
One of the many assumptions typically made about the gendered rela-
tions between men and women, one that reflects the history of our cul-
 BEYOND ESSENTIALISMS 69

ture's construction of gender roles, is that men are more dominant than
wo1nen. Indeed, women who exhibit masculine-identified characteristics
are often negatively evaluated. For this reason, as one of our primary
goals in team teaching, we consciously attend to and emphasize equality
between instructors.
We take several steps to facilitate equality both in terms of the divi-
sion of actual work for the class and in terms of the presentation. We di-
vide the labor for developing and preparing for the class equally. Equal
labor allows both of us the opportunity to optimize our expertise, to
present information, and to lead discussions. This also helps assure that
, class time is equally spent on our expert areas. We closely monitor the
actual time spent in front of students leading the lecture or discussion.
We attempt to participate equally in discussion periods with both of us
commenting on students' remarks or classroom material.
Students' nonverbal behavior, such as body posture and eye contact,
are also possible indicators of assumptions. We find that many female
students direct their comments, gaze, and body posture to our female
teaching member and that male students attempted to interact more
with our male teaching member. This is particularly evident in a course
with an even number of both genders. We believe this tendency for stu-
dents to interact more directly with the same sex instructor is the result
of both comfort levels and issues of legitimacy/authority. Course evalua-
tions by students indicate that on some topics students felt more con1-
fortable directing their comments to the same sex instructor.
Another possible interpretation of the tendency on the part of male
students to interact more directly with our male team 1nember is that it
is less an issue of comfort than it is an issue of authority by virtue of his
maleness. The female student's preference to interact more directly with
our female team member when talking about female sexuality and femi-
ninity in the United States is due in part to students' assumptions that
they share similar experiences by virtue of being women. We observe
that this occurs less when the class is examining and discussing a sexual
and gendered practice outside of the United States. This pattern reveals
the difficulty, but not the impossibility, of escaping socialization con-
cerning one's own cultural constructions of gender and sexuality in the
limited time frame of one semester or quarter. Students find it less diffi-
cult to move beyond their gendered assumptions about which sex is more
knowledgeable and appropriate when discussing cross-cultural variations
in gender and sexual meanings because these are, in many cases, foreign
ideas, thus no one gender "owns" them. In fact, our male team teacher's
expertise as an anthropologist serves a useful function in more than sim-
ply his ethnograph ic knowledge. Students perceive his anthropological
expertise as a legitimate source of knowledge, even when discussing
cross-cultural expressions of female sexuality. We believe that as students
70 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

"grant" male teachers legitimacy as acceptable "knowers" concerning

female experience worldwide, students begin to make similar conces-
sions when critically exa1nining United States cultural practices and
meanings.
Through our knowledge base and fa1niliarity with fem inist perspec-
tives, we believe we effectively challenge students' assumptions that ex-
periential knowledge is the only effective basis for teaching about sex-
specific material. For example, one student shared with us that she was
initially hesitant to see a man teaching a women's studies course on
gender and sexuality. At the end of the course she was pleased that both
instructors were teaching the course. We believe her initial hesitation
was based on the politics of experience and assumptions that only
women can talk about and be sensitive to issues of female sexual ity and
femininity.
A key method of monitoring interactions of dominance and passivity
is to confer with one another during each class break and after each
class. At times, we disagree whether one or the other appears dominant
but find it helpful to have a quick discussion during break so that any
disparity can be rectified in the remaining class time. The monitoring is
not always effective in producing equitable time because, although we
also divide class topics relatively equally, some class days are weighted
more heavily one way or the other, and the discussions sometimes favor
one or the other instructor's expertise. At times, one of us is simply
1nore knowledgeable about a topic or better able to respond to students'
questions.
Students' evaluations indicate that there is little perception of domi-
nance of either instructor. Students overwhelmingly show that both in-
structors equally participate in teach ing the course in terms of present-
ing information, leading discussions, and grading responses. Our careful
planning of the course topics is essential in preventing any major dis-
parities to develop-we consciously select topics and case studies with
which we are both familiar and we have an equal number of topics about
which we are specifically knowledgeable.
In addition to our desire to move beyond dominant/passive assu1np-
tions of traditional American gender roles, we want to locate ourselves as
gendered beings so we can, when appropriate, bring our personal experi-
ences to bear on the classroom. However, we attempt to escape some of
the pitfalls of a politics of experience. We often use our personal experi-
ences to illustrate how we are all socialized with gendered messages
concerning appropriate behavior.
Our own experiences effectively demonstrate how engendered we all
are. For example, in our first discussions on the "work of gender," we
look to our own body postures. We point out our male team member's
 BEYOND ESSENTIALISMS 71

more open gait and larger surrounding physical space as compared to our
female team member's stance, as evidence of how we unconsciously act
out gender socialization. We review the literature on styles of communi-
cation and verbal patterns of dominance and attend to our patterns and
those of others.
While we use personal examples and stories when relevant, we are
careful not to represent all men or all women through our own gendered
experience, pointing out how other social relations can shape and alter
gendered experiences. Since we are trying to move beyond the limits
imposed by a politics of experience, we do not divide the class material
•
and presentation along gender lines. Together we provide information
and lead discussions about the meaning and construction of masculin-
ity and femininity just as we both talk about same-sex and cross-sex re-
lations. Teaching based on personal experience would limit us to each
speaking only about out corresponding assigned gender and sexual orien-
tation within a specific class, race, and regional experience.

Sexuality and Coming Out

In examining sexuality, one of the key topics is the essentialist assump-
tion of the normalcy of heterosexuality. We strive to problematize the
often neglected topic of heterosexuality and heterosexual privilege, in a
similar way to our discussion of masculinity !see, for example, Richard-
son 1996).
Historicizing the concept of heterosexuality and heterosexual identi-
ties parallels our exercise in historicizing and examining the construc-
tion of masculinity and femininity. Including heterosexuality vvhen we
discuss the social construction and practices of sexuality effectively dis-
places the normalcy of heterosexuality and problematizes it in much the
same way that other sexual practices and identities are problematized.
Escaping essentialism 1neans that we help challenge students' assump-
tions about homosexual identities and practices (for example, we find
that, at the beginning of the course, many students assume same-sex re-
lations are "deviant" and contrary to the essential sexual nature of hu-
mans), by investigating the various meanings and practices of same-sex
behaviors across cultures and time. Specifically we exa1nine cross-cultural
sexual identities, roles, and practices ranging from the berdache and the
hijra to semen-ingesting practices of the Sambia. Clearly, a politics of ex-
perience is not effective or even possible with such a diverse range of
practices.
Because we are continually trying to move beyond a politics of experi-
ence and because we problematize heterosexuality and homosexuality in
the same way, we do not "come out" in terms of our sexual orientations,
although we do not attempt to "pass" as heterosexual or homosexual. We
72 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

do not want to clai1n or forfeit authority on the topic based solely on our
"experience" of it.
We wonder whether concealing our sexual orientation is the most ef-
fective method of illustrating the constraining nature of gender roles and
sexuality. We do so because we want to problematize heterosexu ality
and essentialism by displacing assumptions about our own sexuality.
The a1nbiguous state in terms of sexuality forces students to move be-
yond the politics of experience. However, remaining "sexually ambigu-
ous" limits much of the experiential material that we could bring into
the classroo1n from our personal histories.

Implications for Pedagogical Practice

A major implication of the cross-gender team-teaching model is to broaden
the participation, meaning, and practice of gender studies, an area most
often explored in women's studies. Given the historical and contempo-
rary neglect of women's experiences, history, and perceptions in the
curriculum, we remain deeply committed to the goals of expanding the
curriculu1n to include the experiences of those historically neglected. At
the same time, we believe that to further student understanding of the
construction of fe1nininity, instructors must examine the fluidity of
fe1nininity and how it is related to masculinity, while preventing the con-
struction of masculinity from subsuming examinations of the construc-
tion of femininity. This may be a difficult balance, but it is a manageable
one. Second, the cross-gender team-teaching model widens the partici-
pation of women and men in teaching about gender and feminism. A
tea1n-teaching model avoids the problems Jaggar outlines at the sa1ne
time it makes men responsible for educating students about privilege and
oppression.
The cross-gender team-teaching approach is most effective with like-
minded, feminist-oriented instructors who share an enthusiasm and in-
terest in deconstructing the oppressive myths of female inferiority and
static constructions of sexuality. Exposing essentialism as an explicit
topic for classroorn discussion helps to reach this goal. This normally oc-
curs when using a social constructionist perspective in teaching about
gender and sexuality, but it can also be applied to assu1nptions students
have about who should teach what.
Faculty members who intend to team teach need to be conscious of
their interactions with one another, particularly in front of students, so
that they do not reinforce gendered stereotypes. In addition to meeting
regularly to debrief about classroom interactions and responses, we find
it helpful to call attention to gendered actions and behaviors to reveal
both the strength of gender socialization and to discuss possible ways to
 BEYOND EsSE NTI ALI SM S 73

mitigate against oppression. Other techniques we suggest include orga-

nizing the class effectively to use a balance of the expertise of both in-
structors and to distribute class time equally between instructors. In-
structors can also defer questions on course topics along the lines of
expertise rather than gender and ask one another questions to illuminate
issues when appropriate in front of students.
We find, through interaction and observation, two competing 1nodels
students exhibit for making sense of the comparative empirical examples
provided in the class. The interpretive models we observe basically paral-
lel the poles of the dialectic between cultural relativism, on the one
• hand, and an understanding of basic human rights, or the conception of
some universal moral stance from which to judge cultural practices, on
the other (see, for example, Peters and Wolper 1995). In our classroom,
students, each in her/his own way, play out the drama that has plagued
cultural anthropology's idea of cultural relativism at least since World
War II. Looking through one of the interpretive models, students tend to
understand many of the practices and gender constructions of the world's
cultures as subordinating women-even as outrageous oppressive prac-
tices, particularly when we discuss purdah and female circumcision. The
other view tends to preserve the idea of relativism, a seeming acceptance
of diverse cultural practices and constructions of gender and sexuality as
part of a cultural context, through a noncritical application and hands-
off approach in which students basically say, "to each his/her own." This
approach, while relativist on the surface, is primarily employed to justify
and preserve the student's native understanding of gender, not to legiti-
1nate the practices and views of other cultures. As instructors, we chal-
lenge proponents of each of these poles of a very complex issue to em-
brace the possibilities in an effort to work toward a middle ground.
Our intent is not to dictate students' values. We intend to broaden
their understanding of how gender constructions work and how "unnat-
ural" essentialisms can be. Our curriculum raises the issues and pro-
vides e1npirical and theoretical grounds by which to amplify them.

Conclusion
A feminist commitment to liberatory education requires a critique of
essentialism spanning not only the essentialist ideas underlying the
"nature" of gender and sexuality but also the assumptions about who
can best teach what. A critique of both essentialism and a "politics of
experience" allows feminists effectively to engender 1nen, to 1nove be-
yond static notions of femininity and female experience, and to illumi-
nate the dichotomous, relational, and ultimately variant and fluid con-
struction of masculinity and femininity. In addition, this pedagogical
74 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

approach not only escapes reinforcing the gender hierarchies by equ al-
izing responsibility and legitimacy in the classroom but it is an active
part of the solution in working toward nonoppressive gender relations in
daily practice and in the lives of our students. We strongly believe that
this latter effect, one of contributing solutions to the problems of daily
lives in American society and broadening our students' capacity or abil-
ity to contribute, should be one of the primary goals of reform in higher
education.

Notes
1. This integration reform, however, has not been without debate and critics
which have contested both the necessity and the effectiveness of an inclu-
sive curriculum. Conservative scholars such as Allan Bloom and E. D.
Hirsch as well as conservative associations (The National Association of
Scholars) have argued for a return to an established canon with a firn1 foun-
dation in Western civilization.

2. The central theme in women's studies is empowerment, not oppression.

Even if women's studies were primarily about oppression, which we think it
is not, one must learn about the relationality of systems of domination to
understand "women's oppression." This does not require that men's experi-
ences or male constructions of sexualities and other forms of identity be
given equal attention or should dominate the curriculum, only that they,
and their relation to female constructions, be recognized and analytically
incorporated in an effort to understanding the cultural foundations of a sys-
tem of dominance.

3. We draw from a wide range of literature. We have found useful ethnographic

information and readings from a variety of anthropological monographs in-
cluding Abu-Lughod (1986), Bateson (1958), Gorer (1948), Herdt (1987), Levy
(1973), Mead (1928), Nanda (1990), Obeyesekere (1990), Sheper-Hughes (1992),
Spiro (1982, 1990), and Wikan (1990). A partial but substantive list of fur-
ther significant theoretical a.ad descriptive readings include the following:
Blackwood (1986), Brettell and Sargent (1993), Brown (1991), Callendar and
Kochems (1987), Chodorow (1978), Espin (1984), Faderman (1991), Faludi
(1991), Freen1an (1983), Gay (1986), Gilmore (1990), Gruenbaum (1982), Halp-
erin (1993), Herdt (1994), Lamphere (1993), Laumann et al. (1994), Mayer
(1995), Messner (1990), Morgan (1993), Ortner (1978), Ortner and Whitehead
(1 981 ), Peiss (1983), Rapp (1993), Rich (1993), Ross and Rapp (1983), Simson
(1983), Smith-Rosenberg (1975), Snitow et al. (1983), Spiro (1982), A. Stein
(1993), Tavris (1992), Toubia (1995), Walker (1993), Weeks (1986), Weinrich
(1987), and Whitehead (1981). There are a number of good books and antholo-
gies on the topic of essentialism and social coostructionism including
Abramson and Pinkerton (1995), Richardson (1996), Schiebinger (1993), and
BEYOND E SS ENTIALI SMS 75

E. Stein (1992). Finally we draw from our own research, which covers the
construction of identities and the et hnographic history of an American
company town .

4. We are aware of the possibility that introducing students to cross-cultural

examples has the negative potential of taking the form of "cultural voyeur-
ism." An understanding of cultural relativism, a theme we weave through-
out the course, helps to minimize this effect (Engber 1996).

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•
CHAPTER FIVE

Not for Queers Only: Pedagogy

and Postmodernism

SAL JOHNSTON

I did not explicitly set out to develop a "postmodern" pedagogy. Rather,

as I engaged postmodern analyses in my scholarship and taught them in
my courses, I became aware of their impact on my teaching practices. I
hope this essay demonstrates that these analyses are useful, even crucial,
for developing pedagogical practices that resist reinscribing do1ninant, es-
sentialist constructions of sexuality, race, gender, and class. I focus on
sexuality partly because I teach in Oregon where the "religious" right's
unholy war is deeply entrenched. Despite assertions that postmodernism
is apolitical, I have found postmodern analyses and teaching practices
particularly effective for analyzing sexuality and undermining the per-
suasive rhetoric of the "religious" right.
The postmodern texts that I draw from emphasize breaking down (de-
constructing) dualistic models and understandings of sexuality, gender,
and race. They suggest that these categories are constructed through re-
lations of power and must be examined with a critical eye. I find these
analyses useful because they allow me to go beyond simply defending
stigmatized practices, such as homosexuality and problematize sexual-
ity more generally. Deconstructing categories also facilitates articulat-
ing the interrelations of race, class, gender, and sexuality.
I begin my discussion with an explanation of the context in which I
teach. Next, I briefly review some postmodern analyses: mainly those that
show the "natural" to be "cultural." The remainder of the chapter focuses
on how I use these tools in constructing two of my courses.

Context: The "Religious" Right and Me

The sociopolitical context in which I teach has a great deal to do with
my confidence in the analyses and teaching practices described in this
essay. For the past four years I have taught undergraduate s.ociology
courses at the University of Oregon. Oregon has been besieged by· battles
over proposed antihomosexual legislation sponsored by the Oregon Citi-
zens Alliance (OCAJ. The OCA is the most prominent Christian right
group in Oregon and the most aggressively homophobic. The OCA shares
the basic characteristics of the religious right nationally: it seeks to rein-

Originally published in the Spring 1995 issue of the NWSA fournal.

 NOT FOR QUEERS ONLY 81

force traditional gender roles, patriarchal family structure, and laissez-

faire capitalism and to erase the gains of the civil rights movement. The
OCA has also targeted women's right to choose, but with little success.
In contrast, they've found antihomosexual campaigning politically and
financially advantageous.
The OCA's 1992 statewide endeavor, Ballot Measure 9, sought to
amend the state constitution to declare homosexuality, collapsed with
pedophilia, sadism, and masochism, "unnatural, abnormal, and per-
verse." The stated goal of the 1neasure was to prevent the state from "pro-
moting" homosexuality by mandating that the "state or its representa-
• tives" could not "acknowledge, encourage, or facilitate" homosexuality
and other listed behaviors. The legislative intent included preventing
Oregon from adding sexual orientation to antidiscrimination legislation,
thereby ensuring the "right" of individuals to discriminate in housing,
employment and public accommodations on the basis of perceived sexual
orientation.
Oregonians rejected Measure 9 in the November 1992 election by a 57
percent to 43 percent margin, but the battle is far from over. The OCA
spent 1993 passing local antihomosexual ordinances in communities
that voted in support of Measure 9. The OCA placed an antigay referen-
dum on the 1994 statewide ballot, which was narrowly defeated.
The right's preoccupation with the representation of homosexuality
and homosexuals in education is evident in the construction of Measure
9, which required educators in all public educational institutions to
teach that homosexuality is "abnormal, wrong, unnatural, and perverse."
This legislation would have been binding on university classes as well as
on grades K-12 and would have criminalized teaching even demographic
or scientific "value-free" findings about homosexuality. Further, many
people understood Measure 9 as prohibiting queers from teaching.
The passage of Measure 9 would have had grave ramifications for my
career. My current research focuses on anti-OCA organizing in Oregon,
and I teach courses that examine sexuality, queer theory, and the politics
of the secular and religious right. I am also a very identifiable target of
the OCA's antiho1nosexual campaign. When I'm in a room of "normal"
looking activists, the camera consistently turns in my direction. I have a
flat-top and regularly sport early-1960s men's suits. I present myself in
this manner neither to irritate the OCA nor for the thrill of complicating
my professional life but because it expresses how I experience my gen-
dered self. Although I understand identity as fluid, changing, socially
produced, and performative, I am most comfortable and confident in a
butch identity and presentation of self.
My gender identity affects my classroom. The period between when I
enter the classroom and when I write my name on the board is both in-
teresting and stressful. As l put the chalk down, the boys in the back of
82 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXI S

the room have a good laugh and I wonder, "Will this be the class that
comes unhinged?" For the rest of the term, I am in the rather strange
position of deconstructing the stereotypes and assumed relationships
between sex, gender, and sexuality, which I appear to represent. While I
do not walk into class on the first day and proclailn my sexual identity,
my students see my gender violations and assume it. I don't attempt to
leave myself unsituated, but I refrain from coming out through procla-
mation. I want to thwart "coming out" as an identity clai1n that privi-
leges myself and other queers to "teach antiheterosexism." As I will ar-
gue later, I believe that essentialist identity statements are proble1natic
and I consciously work to undermine them.
Given my physical appearance and the context in which I teach, one
would expect me to have a plethora of gruesome tales to report. Yet my
classroom experiences are exceedingly positive. The University of Ore-
gon has a "liberal" reputation and a sizable lefty, feminist, countercul-
ture contingent, but there is also a strong Greek system. Both the state
and the campus are very racially segregated. Eugene is a "lesbian town/'
but I've only had one term in which I had more than three or four identi-
fiable queer students in my class (which typically numbers ninety stu-
dents or more). Youth for Christ is strong enough on campus that we
have "Jesus Week" right after "Gay Pride." This suggests to me that my
success is not primarily a function of student constituency but instead is
due to the theories and pedagogy I employ.
I am unable to "objectively" measure changes in the beliefs or knowl-
edge of students in my courses. What I offer in this essay is a discussion
that draws on my perceptions of classroom interactions, on course as-
signments, and on concrete student feedback from course evaluations.
My course assignments are analytic papers. Students have consider-
able freedo1n over what they write about, but they must incorporate
course issues, concepts, and readings. I evaluate their work on the basis
of logic, depth of analysis, and use of course materials. I consistently re-
mind students that my purpose is to make them better thinkers: they
receive no points for polemics. After they get back their first assignment,
they believe me. By the end of the term even the struggling students im-
prove in their ability to identify some assumptions underlying a com-
mon cultural belief. Because I have only ten weeks with students, I can't
personally effect much change. Thus I try to develop critical thinking,
with the hope that this skill is carried beyond the classroom.
Course evaluations at my institution include a standardized set of
questions and comments written by the students. I ask students to tell
me both what they found useful about the class and what was problem-
atic. Students consistently suggest that they found challenging and valu-
able the class emphasis on learning how to think rather than what to
think. Students may cynically be producing what they think I want to
 NOT FO R QUEERS ONLY 83

hear, but I doubt it. They write their comments anonymously, knowing
that I do not have access to them until after final grades are issued.

Pedagogy and Postmodernism

As I have engaged with feminist postmodernist theories1 and analyses I

have had to rethink various aspects of 1ny classroom practices. I discuss
three concrete effects of postmodern analyses on my pedagogical prac-
tices: (1) I don't grant epistemic privilege to experience; (2) I deconstruct
• sexuality rather than defending homosexuality; and (3) I work to weave
analyses of sexuality (and race, gender, and class) into the substantive is-
sues of the courses I teach.
"Postmodernism" as a referent to a body of theory is largely an Ameri-
can phenomenon and, as Judith Butler argues, it lumps together an as-
semblage of incongruent theories (1993b, 4). However, Linda Nicholson's
characterization of two of the major themes in "postmodern" analyses
strongly influences my scholarship and is relevant to my discussion here.
Nicholson points to "(l) a rejection of the all-encompassing and frequently
telelogical theories of human history and social change associated with
enlightenment ideas about reason and progress ... [and] (2) a linking of
claims about social life, human nature, and criteria of truth and validity
with strategies of power" (1992,-93).
One foundational idea of the Enlightenment is essentialism, defined
by Diana Fuss as "the belief in true essence-that which is most irreduc-
ible, unchanging, and therefore constitutive of a given person or thing"
(1989, 2). Antiessentialists do not simply reject the belief in a core or true
essence, they show it to be a historical construction. They show that ex-
planations of sexuality as "natural" (biologically predetermined) are un-
tenable.2 Instead, sexuality, gender, class, and race are socially produced
categories that vary between and within cultures and historical periods.
By "denaturalizing" sexuality antiessentialism allows for critiques of
the hegemony of heterosexuality. Unless it can be shown that any and
every sexual expression is socially produced/mediated rather than natu-
ral or innate, procreative heterosexuality remains the normative practice
against which all other expressions are measured.
Deconstruction, overly simplified, means breaking down binary op-
positions, showing that they are constructed (rather than naturally oc-
curring), hierarchical, and imbricated with relations of power. Meanings
are created relationally, as Joan Scott explains, "fixed oppositions con-
ceal the extent to which things presented as oppositional are, in fact, in-
terdependent" (1993, 37). Deconstruction should not be confused with
destruction. Unraveling truth narratives, like sociobiology, leaves us
with another phenomenon to explain: the production of sociobiology.
84 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

Applying deconstruction to sexuality reveals that heterosexuality and

homosexuality are socially constructed categories that only have mean-
ing in relation to one another, and that truth claims about sexuality are
constructed. 3
These analyses argue that dualistic categorical schemas function to
reinforce existing relations of power. In the case of sexuality, treating the
categories as natural or given reinforces the logic that constructs hetero-
sexuality as the only "normal" option. If we wish to resist heterosexism
in our classroom practices, then we must analyze the categories along
with the effects of categorization. In other words, we can't only direct
our classes' attention to the bias and harms against queers to fight het-
erosexism; we have to show how heterosexuality is historically created
and structurally enforced. This critique calls identity categories into
question: should we base our identities on categories that function to
regulate?
Feminism has posited self-knowledge via experience as central to poli-
tics and theory. I am not arguing for the abandon1nent of the "personal as
political" but heed Joan Scott's caution that experience is not self-evident
or unmediated. As Scott suggests, there has been a (well-intentioned)
tendency in some fe1ninist theorizing to ask the question "What could
be truer . . . than a subject's own account .of what she or he has lived
through?" (25). She argues that the effect of this logic is to naturalize dif-
ference; it treats the categories of gender, race, and sexuality as "given
characteristics of individuals" (27). The result is that precisely what is to
be explained is made essential and that this naturalization reproduces
existing ideological systen1s.
Privileging experience can also lead to constructing experience (and/
or identity) as an "ontological foundation" for knowledge or politics (Scott
26-30). Such a perspective assumes that there are sets of experiences
that provide the necessary "raw material" for "real" knowledge or politi-
cal reliability. This homogenizes experience and jettisons difference,
thereby rearticulating dominant exclusions. If sexuality is understood as
the totalizing experience, for example, then race, class, and gender are
marginalized.
Finally, none of us gain knowledge through unmediated experience;
there are always different levels of mediation. (While I don't think it is pos-
sible to teach straight students what it is like to be queer, any more than I
could teach male students what it is like to be a woman, I do think that
students can come to understand relations of power regardless of their
position within them.) Not privileging experience is not equivalent to
denigrating it, nor does it discount the use of experience as a mode of
learning. So while I don't use exercises like "pretend you're gay and write
a coming-out letter to your parents," I do exa1nine experiences as a way
to reveal and understand relations of power. The distinction is in the
 NOT FOR QUEERS ONLY 85

proposed relationship between knowledge and experience: my approach

does not demand that you personally share an experience to gain knowl-
edge from that experience.
As 1ny self-identification reveals, I am not averse to individual claims
for types of identity. However, I am suspicious of essentialist identity
clai ms as a basis for politics or pedagogy. I resist "playing out" identity
politics in the classroo1n. bell hooks suggests abandoning identity poli-
tics by advocating feminism rather than declaring oneself a feminist
(1984, 29). I advocate, among other things, antiracism, and antisexism,
but I do not base my advocacy on my identity. At no point in a class do I
• ask for antihomophobic comments from students, nor do I seek assur-
ances of my own status as an "oppressed" lesbian. This allows me to
abandon essentialist "I am" in favor of "I do."

Deconstructing Experience
"Diversity panels" are supposed to make visible and give voice to those
constructed as Other in an effort to challange dominant thinking about
race, gender, sexuality, and class. Identity categories are often an impor-
tant element of these panels. Scott's critique of privileging experience
points to the need to be exceedingly careful when forming a panel or
bringing in a guest speaker; in particular, we need to think about the
i1nplications of the framing of the issue or individual in question. For
example, while writing this essay I was invited to be on a student-
organized "sexualities panel" for an Introduction to women's studies
course. At my institution it appears that "sexualities" panels have pretty
much replaced "lesbian panels." While this is an important step, it is
insufficient if the construction of the panel is still dependent on an es-
sentialist understanding of identity.
I appeared on the panel with a gay man, a lesbian, and a heterosexual
virgin. The make-up of the panel functioned to rearticulate several aspects
of dominant discourse. Because all the panelists were Euro-Americans
our race was not discussed, a fact that may have made identity appear to
be singular. By not including self-identified bisexuals, the panel replicated
an understanding of sexuality as a hetero-homo binary. Having three of
the four panelists represent homosexuality reinforced the notion that
only homosexuality, not all sexualities, needs explanation. This impres-
sion was further reinforced by the fact that the panel's one heterosexual
was a virgin, implying as it did that active heterosexuality is simply self-
evident. The primary problem was that we were each selected to "repre-
sent" our "identity."
Although labeled a "sexualities" panel, we were not there to discuss
sex but rather to discuss our respective sexual identities. I naively agreed
86 FEMIN IST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AN D PRAXIS

to appear on the panel with hopes of disrupting the usual proclamations

of "truth" through sexuality. The first question that the students had us
answer, however, basically amounted to "What is your sexual identity?"
So much for deconstruction. I answered that I identify most with the
terms "butch" and "queer." I then briefly stated that the former references
a gender construct (one among many) and the latter a very loose sexual
identification.
When questioned about these terms I explained that I use "queer" be-
cause it is self-evidently ambiguous. Although '1 lesbian" is assumed to
imply specific meanings1 it doesn't even say anything specific about
people's sexual practices, much less about the rest of their lives. I sug-
gested that desire is more complicated than sexual categories allow; for
example, I'm not attracted to 11all women" or "all lesbians" but to femmes
(and not exclusively1 though predominantly, to wo1nen). So, I asked, what
then is the appropriate basis on which to assign someone to a sexual cat-
egory? Desire? Fantasy? Behavior?
I went on to explain that it is my violation of certain gender norms
that produces the tendency to code me as lesbian. However, the cultural
stereotypes about 11what a lesbian looks like" are based on deviations
from stereotypical femininity and do not determine sexuality; being a
"tomboy 11 doesn't make you a dyke and playing with dolls doesn't make
you straight. Gender doesn't predict sexuality.
I was rather pleased with myself, thinking that I had nicely resisted
homogenizing labels until the questions from the class made it clear that
they understood me to be "a Lesbian 11 and understood my attempts at
ambiguity and deconstruction as internalized homophobia. After all, I
look like a dyke, I walk like one, why wouldn't I quack? Was I ashamed?
I thought of Scott's caution about naturalizing difference1 about the im-
plications of constructing categories as 11given characteristics of individ-
uals/' and knew I was trapped.
I responded by reiterating that n1y categorization was not prompted by
"lesbian shame" but by the very real differences between gender and
sexuality. Further, the harassment that I endu re is based on gender. The
most dangerous situations I have been in are those in which people think
I am biologically male and then discover that I am not. I am not suggest-
ing that my 11gender trouble 11 is not consistently linked to sexuaUty (once
discovered) but rather that in my case it is gender that gets me in the
most trouble.
Those skeptical of postmodern analyses could read this as proof of the
unintelligibility and impracticality of these analyses. However, I under-
stand my difficulty on the panel as a function of the uncritical use of
identity categories. Stereotypes based on totalizing identities are not dis-
mantled by presenting individuals as representative of an identity group1
even if the participants are chosen to confirm the humanity of their
 NOT FOR QUEERS ONLY 87

group. I have been much more successful (and comfortable) discussing

my research and activism than I have appearing as "petri dish Q." Pre-
senting individuals under totalizing signs/labels closes the door in effect
to a critical examination of the meanings and production of the latter. As
Scott suggests, the result of such a presentation is that what needs expla-
nation is understood as an inherent aspect of the individual and is thus
inaccessible to scrutiny.

Theory in Practice
•
I'd like to undermine heteropatriarchy, but this commitment does not
manifest itself in my "teaching antihomophobia." I do not teach about
homosexuality per se; I don't attempt to provide a rationale or a justifica-
tion for sexual practices, nor do I pose value-laden questions about sexu-
ality. Instead, I work to disrupt popular understandings of sex, gender,
and sexuality. I direct student attention to particular issues and ques-
tions in order to reframe them in ways that challenge dominant under-
standings of sexuality.
Sex and Identity is an upper-division course, small for my institution
(with thirty to sixty students, mostly majors), and it tends to more women
than 1nen. The course, as I structure it, is an examination of theories of
sexuality with readings, assignments, and discussions that deconstruct
the latter. Race, gender, and class are always part of our analysis, even
though the course situates sexuality as a central concern. The logic of
the course moves from antiessentialist scholarship to various social-
constructionist positions and concludes with deconstructive analyses.
A key concern is the critical examination of the production of knowl-
edge concerning sex, categories, and assumed meanings and relation-
ships. We engage in a basic examination of how different theories ex-
plain/construct sexuality and attempt to analyze how they produce what
they purport to explain. Central questions posed by the course include:
Who produces knowledge concerning sexuality? How and why do they
do so? What relationship between sex, sexuality, gender, and identity is
posited by the theories under investigation? What relationship can we
see between sexuality and race, class, and gender? How are sexual prac-
tices, meanings, and identities produced and reproduced? What is the re-
lationship between sexuality and power?
To introduce students to the idea that sex, gender, race, and sexuality
are social constructs rather than fixed biological "realities," and that sci-
ence does not produce "objective truth," I have students read Ruth Hub-
bard's The Politics of Women 's Biology (1990) and Jeffrey Weeks's Sexual-
ity (1986) by the end of the second week. Students find these texts
conceptually challenging but readable. In conjunction with the readings
88 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

I use two small-group exercises that seem to help students understand

the analyses presented. For the first exercise I ask students to try to de-
termine what all women have in common. Students quickly conclude
that there isn't a singular defining characteristic. They realize that even
biological criteria have exceptions. For the second exercise, drawing on
Weeks's overview of the sexuality literature and Hubbard's analysis, I
have students examine a newspaper article on Anne Moir and David Jes-
sel's Brain Sex (1991), which argues that there are 1nale and female brains
and that "homosexuals" have the "wrong" brain. Students analyze the
text on a number of levels, including the author's underlying assu1np-
tions; the assumed relationship between sex, gender, and sexuality; the
construction of gender; the gendering of hormones and organs; and the
usefulness of studying rats. This exercise makes evident some of the so-
cial consequences of theoretical and scientific assumptions.
We then move into an analysis of psychoanalytic theory, an examina-
tion of the "repressive hypothesis," and a summary of social-constructionist
analyses. The readings grouped under "social construction" are primarily
historical and function to reveal the multiple constructions of sexuality
very concretely. Many of the readings are in Ann Snitow, Christine Stan-
sell, and Sharon Thompson's Powers of Desire (1983); they reveal that in-
cluding race, class, and gender in analyses of sexuality render singular,
totalizing explanations untenable. For example, Kathy Peiss discusses
the class differences in sexual norms and regulation during the late nine-
teenth century. Jacqueline Dowd-Hall disrupts the ahistorical and unidi-
rectional understanding of rape (seen as a timeless form of control over
women) by revealing the effects of race, class, and gender on the con-
struction and practice of rape and lynching.
In the final section of the course we examine Michel Foucault (1980),
deconstructive analyses, and identity politics. In conjunction with readings
from Judith Butler (1990, 1993a, 1993b) I show Paris Is Burning (Livingston,
1991) and k.d. lang videos. 4 Paris Is Burning is an excellent film showing
the iinbrication of race, class, gender, and sexuality and illustrating Butler's
concept of "performativity." Politically, I think this film is important as
well; it blends performance with the tangible effects of oppression. Stu-
dents often comment that it is a "sad movie." I counter by saying that the
film certainly reveals some of the tragedies heaped on transsexuals but
that it is also about resistance, survival, pride, and power. I challenge them
to recognize the dangers and oppression without falling into "pity." The
k.d. lang video also shows that gender does not link up to biology in a pre-
determined way. It has been useful, and fun, to play with the question of
when k.d. is in "drag" and when she is not. Is it drag when she is in campy
"country" skirts? A serious dress? Or a man's western suit?
I taught Sex and Identity twice during fervid antihomosexual campaign-
ing by the OCA. It was tempting, given the right's pathologizing typifica-
 Nor FOR QUEERS ONLY 89

tions of queers, to fall into "defending" homosexuality; but to argue that

homosexuality "isn't bad" reinscribes the same heterosexual-homosexual
binary that fuels heterosexism and the current attacks by the right. My oc-
casional anxiety attacks over the political utility of the analyses provided
in my course were assuaged by the very cogent analyses of 1ny students.
The Sex and Identity course is atypical. I have an entire term to spe-
cifically deconstruct sex, gender, race, and sexuality. While many courses
would not as readily accommodate the critiques I describe above, it is
still possible to weave analyses of sexuality into the substantive issues of
courses seemingly about other topics. 5 A statistics course could dissect
• the inane statistics the religious right propagates or exa1nine Fritz Klein
and colleagues' (1985) study of bisexuality. A course on the family can
historicize families and show how the employment of different definitions
of "family" constructs and maintains specific race, class, gender, and sex-
ual scripts and relations of power. I cannot offer a formu la for integrating
antiessentialist analyses of sexuality into the entire curriculu1n, but I will
provide a discussion of how I wove analyses of sexuality into a course in
which students were not expecting to engage with these issues.
My experiences teaching Social Change confirmed for me the efficacy
of deeply contextualizing issues of sexuality. I taught the course the term
after the 1992 election using Measure 9 as a focus for examining the dy-
namics of social change. A typical topic for this course is an examination
of the changes in Eastern Europe. I chose Measure 9 as a frame both to
allow us to examine multiple levels and types of social change and, be-
cause I planned the course before the election, as resistance to the aca-
demic censorship proposed by Measure 9.
About half of the 120 students in the course were nonmajors, ranging
from sophomores to seniors, and the gender distribution was about equal.
On the first day of class I explained that we would examine multiple lev-
els and types of social change (from national to regional to local as well
as economic, political, and social) and that the course would focus on
various changes related to the emergence of Measure 9. Students chal-
11
lenged the appropriateness of this focus as "too narrow or "irrelevant to
their lives." I countered by stating that the three major issues we would
examine were (1) national economic trends and Oregon's timber econ-
omy, (2) the social changes due to the progressive movements of the
1960s and 1970s, and (3) the emergence and agenda of the religious right.
I suggested that if anything, this was a ridiculously large amount of ma-
terial to attempt to cover in ten weeks. I explained that Measure 9 pro-
vided a concrete point of convergence.
I framed my discussions of sexuality in reference to the agenda of the
religious right, the social changes produced by the social movements of
the 1960s and 1970s, and ongoing changes in the meanings and expecta-
tions of gender, race, and sexuality over the course of this century. A
90 FEMINIST PEDAGOGI CAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

significant shift in student attitudes occurred when we began reading

Sara Diamond's book Spiritual Warfare (1989). The book alarmed my stu-
dents. They clearly had little prior information about the political sig-
nificance of the rise of the right or about the breadth of the right's agenda.
Students began to see some logic in understanding sexuality and power,
and their links to race, gender, and class.
So, for example, in examining the right's family agenda we looked at
how, why, and to what extent the family structure in this country has
changed. This involved, first, articulating the multiple factors contribut-
ing to changes in fa1nily structure, from the economy to changes in gen-
der norms to increased mobility. Then we examined the race, class, and
gender relations inherent in the "traditional" family. Contextualizing
the issue provided students with tools to analyze the situation in Oregon
for themselves. Students began offering analyses of how and why the
right uses scapegoating and why their rhetoric is persuasive. I am, with-
out question, leading students along an analytical path, but students are
free to focus on the issues of their choice and to contest the analyses pre-
sented in the readings.
I use similar analyses in Social Change that are similar to but less
sophisticated than those used in Sex and Identity. For example, we ex-
plore the relationship between knowledge and power through the simpli-
fied proposition that power is inherent in categorical schema. We then
discuss contemporary social movements as contesting the meanings and
content of categories. I try to use methods and materials that resist eval-
uating individual identities and instead consistently focus on the broader
social relations: how identities and experiences are produced.
This framework helped produce an important shift later in the course
when we were examining changes in Oregon's timber com1nunities. I as-
signed Iris Young's (1990) article "The Ideal of Community and the Poli-
tics of Difference," which argues that co1nmunity forms through exclu-
sions. In addition, students read a portion of a doctoral dissertation that
examined community, identity, and change in Oregon timber communi-
ties. Students could then analyze the use of social and economic change
and crisis by political movements. We examined the structural factors
producing support for Measure 9, instead of constructing rural Oregonians
as "rednecks." Student responses to our examination of "timber co1nmu-
nities" solidified for me the importance of presenting issues in complex
ways and not adhering to political bifurcations. This was not a liberal
"show both sides of the issue" response but a com1nitn1ent to examining
the production of social, political, and economic relations.
Student comments on evaluations of Social Change consistently noted
that "students were expected to come to their own conclusions" and that
this facilitated their engage1nent with the course. Students reported that
focusing on critical thinking, rather than taking an emotional inventory,
NOT FOR QUEERS ONLY 91

allowed them to grapple with challenging issues. Additionally, I am in

the position of evaluating not students' feelings or compassion but rather
the logic of their arguments.
Weaving issues of sexuality deeply into the structure and logic of the
course, deconstructing categories and rhetoric, being honest about what
I advocate politically but having the course focus on critical analyses and
demanding clear thinking, all allowed students to become less defensive
and actually engage the material. One student wrote in the anonymous
course evaluation:
I was skeptical of the intent of the course as you outlined it in the first class.
I was leery that you were taking advantage of the forum of the class to push
your own agenda . .. . However, the readings and lectures were fascinating
and I realized that these issues were the best topics for social change.

Conclusion
I do not mean to portray postmodernism as a panacea, but I find its
analyses pedagogically and politically useful. Antiessentialist and de-
constructive critiques allow us to move beyond a dualistic construction
of sexuality and to examine the relations of power constructing categori-
cal schema. If we want our pedagogical practices to resist heterosexism,
then we must avoid rearticulating the logic that underlies it. Moving out
of a bifurcated analytical structure also facilitates examining the multi-
plicity of experience rather than reified categories.
Deconstruction does not leave us with nothing to teach but rather al-
lows us to focus on how categories and truth claims are constructed. As
Cindy Patton 11993) suggests, it is postmodernity, not postmodern theory,
that has made it "problematic to posit ourselves as subjects" (175). Fur-
ther, the most important reasons to question, analyze, and theorize es-
sentialist constructs are political and pragmatic: the political and social
agenda of the right is dependent on essentialist constructions of gender,
sexuality, and race. Effective resistance is dependent on a complex un-
derstanding of how these meanings and relations of power are consti-
tuted and deployed. Posunodernism is not at odds with a pedagogy fo-
cused on critical analyses; I think it de1nands it.

Acknowledgments
An earlier version of this chapter was presented at the Pacific Sociological Asso-
ciation Meetings, San Diego, CA, April 14-17, 1994. This essay has benefited
greatly fro1n the insights and critical comments of friends and colleagues and five
anonymous reviewers. I am particularly grateful to Julia Wallace for suggesting
92 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

that I write this piece and for cogent com1nents on multiple drafts of this essay.
My thanks also go to Diane Dunn, Linda Fuller, Kristin Pula, Lycette Nelson,
Roderick Williams, and Sue Wright. Finally, I must thank 1ny students for the
hard work, patience, and thoughtful com1nents that made this discussion
possible.

Notes
l. See, for example, Butler and Scott, Feminists Theorize the Political; Nich-
olson, Feminism and Postmodernism; and Alcoff and Potter, Feminist
Epistemologies.

2. For an excellent overview of antiessentialist arguments see Jeffrey Weeks,

Sexuality.

3. Within this dichotomous sche1na, heterosexuality and ho1nosexuality con-

sistently envelop bisexuality.

4. Since I taught this class last, Butler's Bodies That Matter has been pub-
lished; and chapter 4 discusses Paris Is Burning. Other films and videos that
can be used in classes include Changing Our Minds: The Story of Dr. Evelyn
Hooker, Love Makes a Family, On Hate Street (48 Hours special that in-
cludes information on the OCA), One Nation Under God (on conversion
therapy), Sacred Lies. Civil Truth, Straight from the Heart, Silent Pioneers,
The Times of Harvey Milk, and Torch Song Trilogy.

5. The resources available for teaching about sexuality are expanding. One
book I highly recommend is The Lesbian and Gay Studies Reader, edited by
Abelove, Barale, and Halperin. This anthology contains a very thoughtful
compilation of important articles and an extensive bibliography. Another
important resource is the Center for Lesbian and Gay Studies (CLAGS),
which has an archive of course syllabi that can provide examples of how to
incorporate analyses of sexuality into various substantive areas. To add your
name to the CLAGS Newsletter mailing list write to CLAGS, The Graduate
School and University Center, City University of New York, 365 Fifth Ave.
New York, NY 10016.

Works Cited

Abelove, Henry, Michele Barale, and David Halperin, eds. The Lesbian and Gay
Studies Reader. New York: Routledge, 1993.
Alco££, Linda, and Elizabeth Potter, eds. Feminist Epistemologies. New York:
Routledge, 1993.
Butler, Judith. Bodies That Matter. New York: Routledge, 1993a.
 NOT FOR QUEERS O NLY 93

- -. "Contingent Foundations: Feminism and the Question of 'Postmodern-

ism.' '' In Feminists Theorize the Political, ed. Judith Butler and Joan Scott,
3-21. New York: Routledge, 1993b
- - . Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity. New York.
Routledge, 1990.
Butler, Judith, and Joan Scott, eds. Feminists Theorize the Political. New York:
Routledge, 1993.
Diamond, Sara. Spiritual Warfare : The Politics of the Christian Right. Boston:
South End P, 1989.
Foucault, Michel. The History of Sexuality, Volume 1: An Introduction . New
York: Vintage, 1980.
t Fuss, Diana. Essentially Speaking. New York: Routledge, 1989.
hooks, bell. Feminism from Margin to Center. Boston: South End P, 1984.
- - . Yearnings: Race. Gender, and Cultural Practices. Boston : South End P,
1990.
Hubbard, Ruth. The Politics of Women's Biology. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers
University Press, 1990.
Klein, Fritz, B. Sepekoff, and T. J. Wolf. "Sexual Orientation: A Multivariable
Dynamic Process." In Bisexualities: Theory and Research, ed. Fritz Klein
and T. J. Wolf, New York: Hayworth, 1985.
Livingston, Jennie. Paris ls Burning [motion picture] . Los Angeles: Off White
Productions, 1991.
Moir, Anne, and David Jessel. Brain Sex: The Real Difference between Men and
Women. Brooklyn, New York: Delta, 1992.
Nicholson, Linda. Feminism and Postmodernism New York: Routledge, 1990.
- - . "On the Postmodern Barricades: Fe1ninism, Politics, and Theory." In
Post1nodernism and Social Theory, ed. Steven Seidman and David Wagner.
Cambridge, MA: Blackwell, 1992.
Patton, Cindy. "Tremble Hetero Swine! " Fear of a Queer Planet. Ed. Michael
Warner. Minneapolis: University of Minneapolis Press 1993. 143-77
Scott, Joan W. "Experience." In Feminists Theorize the Political, ed. Judith But-
ler and Joan Scott, 22-40. New York: Routledge, 1993.
Snitow, Ann, Christine Stansell, and Sharon Thompson, eds. Powers of Desire:
The Politics of Sexuality. New York: Monthly Review, 1983.
Weeks, Jeffrey. Sexuality. New York: Routledge, 1986.
- - . Sexuality and Its Discontents. New York: Routledge, 1985.
Young, Iris. "The Ideal of Community and the Politics of Difference." In Femi-
nism and Postmodernism, ed. Linda Nicholson, 300-23. New York: Rout-
ledge, 1990.
CHAPTER SIX

Feminist Pedagogy, Interdisciplinary Praxis,

and Science Education

MARALEE MAYBERRY AND MARGARET N. REES

As a theoretical and methodological practice, feminist pedagogy em-

braces a commitment to incorporating the voices and experiences of
marginalized students into the academic discourse as well as educating
all students for social justice and social change (Kenway and Modra 1993;
Maher 1987; Rosser 1990; Shrewsbury 1993). At its core, feminist peda-
gogy is a commitment not only to the development of cooperative, mul-
ticultural, and interdisciplinary knowledge that makes learning inviting
and meaningful to a diverse population but also to the development of a
critical consciousness empowered to apply learning to social action and
social transformation.
Although the theory and practice of feminist pedagogy is an increas-
ingly familiar concept to women's studies educators around the country,
few science educators have yet to acknowledge its potential to transform
the traditional conceptualizations of scientific thought that fail to inves-
tigate the role of culture in the production, dissemination, and utiliza-
tion of scientific knowledge (Bleir 1991; Harding 1993; Shulman 1994).
This article focuses on our vision of how social, scientific, and fe1ni-
nist inquiry and teaching can be drawn together to create a new ·vision of
science education. What follows reflects our experience as two feminist
educators teaching a unique interdisciplinary course, Earth Systems: A
Feminist Approach. Earth Systems infused geological education with the
insights of sociological inquiry and feminist pedagogy and was offered in
Spring 1995 for credit through the departments of geology, sociology, and
women's studies at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. Seventeen white
undergraduate students (fourteen women and three men), ranging from
sophomore to senior level, enrolled for and completed the course. Twelve
students were social science or humanities 1najors; three students were
women's studies majors; two students were natural science majors. In
addition, we granted permission to one female graduate student from the
environmental studies program to enroll in the course. She received
graduate credit for developing and implementing a session on "ecofemi-
nism." It is also important to note that Earth Systems was developed and
team taught by a geologist and a sociologist, while most science educa-
tion programs at the high school and college level remain under the di-
rection of scientific experts and science education research teams who

Originally published in the Spring 1997 issue of the NWSA fournal.

 FEMINIST PEDAGOGY AND S C IENCE EDU C ATION 95

rarely, if ever, include academicians from either the social sciences or

humanities.
Our methodological approach is experiential. We weave our experi-
ences as well as the experiences of our students-male and female, natu-
ral and social science majors-into all aspects of our account. Personal
experiences, therefore, provide the lens through which our discussion is
refracted. We analyzed the written narratives of eight students collected
from journal accounts compiled throughout the semester. We also con-
ducted oral interviews with six students who volunteered to discuss the
impact of the course on their knowledge of the relationship between
, earth processes and society as well as their commitment to social and
environmental change. Finally, to provide an account of our experiences
we draw on journals that we, the instructors, kept throughout the course
and subsequent works that we produced about the course.

Rationale for Teaching Earth Systems:

A Feminist Approach
Earth Systems: A Feminist Approach emerged from our awareness of re-
cent feminist scholarship that presents a challenge to traditional West-
ern scientific scholarship and science education (see the works of Hard-
ing; Rosser; Fausto-Sterling; Rosser and Kelly). Our approach to the
development of the course was informed by the two interrelated issues
that are central to this scholarship: (1) the "masculinity" of science and
science education, which has contributed to the attrition of women, men
of color, and people from working-class backgrounds from science courses
and careers, and (2) the fai lure of scientific inquiry and education to situ-
ate scientific knowledge in a social, political, and historical context.
Numerous pedagogical implications for the transformation of the
teaching and curricula in science education are embedded in these is-
sues. As an increasing number of studies clearly suggest, elements of
science education that need reform include the culture of competition
that characterizes many science classrooms (Henderson 1993, Hollens-
head et al 1994; Manis 1994; Seymour and Hewitt 1991; Tobias 1990); the
lack of curriculum images that reflect diverse cultural and gender expe-
riences and are relevant to the daily lives of students (Otto 1991; Trankina
1993; Kelly 1985); and low teacher expectations about the ability of
women and men of color to successfully participate in scientific inquiry
(Hollenshead et al 1994; Spear 1984). Furthermore, programs across the
nation, such as Miami University's Project Discovery, the University of
Michigan's Women in Science Program, and Sue Rosser's University of
South Carolina System Model Project for the Transformation of Science
96 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

and Math Teaching to Reach Wo1nen in Varied Campus Settings, illus-

trate, to varying degrees, some ways in which science classrooms and
science curricula can be redesigned to empower marginalized students,
acknowledge different ways of knowing, and provide a safer environment
within which students' experiences and concerns will become central to
the learning process. While changing particular curricular content and
pedagogical techniques may increase the diversity within the pool of
scientists, it will not necessarily alter the theoretical, philosophical, and
political perspectives upon which science is based-a concern central in
recent scholarship on feminism and science.
The work of feminists on science challenges Western scientific episte-
mology's inability to situate scientific knowledge in its historicat social,
and political context. According to this view, what is wrong with West-
ern science is that the social causes of scientific belief and behavior are
neither exposed nor discussed in science domains. Sandra Harding and
others (1991, 1993) have drawn attention to how the purportedly objec-
tive and value-free nature of science not only obscures the historical and
social context of science but in fact 1nay hide an androcentric bias (Bleier
1991 Fausto-Sterling 1981, Keller 1985, Rosser 1990, Shulman 1994). The
politically regressive consequences that follow from this position are
clear: the scientific establishment's insistence on the "purity" of science
supports the claim that scientific findings improve human welfare, and
it protects the establishment from claims that scientific research could
be used to work against the welfare of certain social groups (Harding
1993, 53- 54).
In addition, an awareness of how scientific knowledge is socially con-
structed is considered an important beginning for the development of the
competencies that enable disempowered groups to beco1ne critically re-
sistant readers and writers of their social, cultural, and educational envi-
ronments. The pedagogical challenge for feminists is to create a feminist
science that acknowledges and critically addresses the social study of sci-
ence and the associated power relations embedded in the scientific com-
munity as well as the manner in which science is traditionally taught. To
this end, the creation of a contextualized science in science education not
only will begin to speak to the interests of women and men of color but
will challenge us all to examine the role science plays in shaping·defini-
tions of knowledge, power relations, and social inequalities and to recog-
nize our capacity to act within the world. As Sandra Harding stresses, "It
seems to me that for nonscientists, the failure of the sciences to show
that they are for us and have always been committed to and reasonably
success£ ul at increasing human welfare-to show science in historical
context in that sense-goes a long way toward explaining why not only
many women but also the majority of men in the U.S. are scientifically
illiterate" (1993, 49).
FEMINIST PEDAGOGY AND SCIENCE EDUCATION 97

In order to address these concerns, the primary goals of Earth Systems:

A Feminist Approach were twofold. First, we wanted to create a coopera-
tive, noncompetitive learning environment where all student voices could
be heard and where the collaborative production of geological knowledge
was linked to daily lives through the lens of sociology and feminist the-
ory. Second, we wanted to develop a curriculum that would strengthen
the ability of students (including those marginalized from previous sci-
ence education) to play an active role in transformative learning and en-
vironmental, social, and political action.

"Doing" Geology, Sociology, and Feminist Pedagogy:

Reflections from the Field
Our course was based on the principles of feminist pedagogy. Feminist
pedagogy is not, as implied in the conventional view of pedagogy, merely
a teaching method that transmits the content of knowledge but a peda-
gogy that signifies what Frances Maher and Mary Kay Thompson Tet-
reault call "the entire process of creating knowledge, involving the in-
numerable ways in which students, teachers, and academic disciplines
interact and redefine each other in the classroom, the educational institu-
tion, and the larger society" (1994, 57). Thus the foundation of the course
was built on the collaborative production of knowledge about the interre-
latedness of earth and social systems in an environment that would de-
mystify "doing sociology" and "doing geology."
We found that a combination of institutional requirements, such as
course outlines and grades, and a lack of models and materials designed
to develop cooperative, multicultural, and interdisciplinary knowledge
often impeded our attempts to implement these goals. Many moments
throughout the course, however, convince us that the blending of our
pedagogical and intellectual commitments was successful. Although we
cannot provide definitive ways to overcome institutional barriers to the
implementation of fe1ninist pedagogy or to bridge the gap between the
social and natural sciences, our experiences offer some starting points.

(Un)enclosed Knowledge
A central organizing tool in traditional educational settings is the course
syllabus, but it becomes a problematic tool when feminist pedagogy is
implemented as the primary principle around which the classroom is
structured. For example, professors at many universities are required to
submit their course syllabi to their department chairperson before the
beginning of each semester, and, at most universities, the course sylla-
bus becomes the contract between student and professor, detailing the
98 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

professor's expectations and requirements. Learning and knowledge,

therefore, are organized, prearranged, and transmitted from the professor
to the student. Paulo Freire refers to this approach as the "banking"
method of education, in which "knowledge is a gift bestowed by those
who consider themselves knowledgeable upon those whom they consider
to know nothing." In this model, students are anonymous, interchange-
able "containers" or "receptacles," to be "filled" by the teacher (1983, 58).
In opposition to the "banking" method, women's studies practitioners
have developed the practice of feminist pedagogy /Weiler 1991). Sitting in
a circle underscores, visually and kinesthetically, the decentralization of
authority in the women's studies classroom. So does the fact that every-
one in the room has a name and a voice. Each me1nber of the classroom
is a learner and a potential teacher. Each member brings something to
contribute to the collaborative construction of knowledge, and the knowl-
edge they collectively produce should, ideally, exceed what any member
thought they knew when they arrived. Obviously, a preplanned course
syllabus, specifying each week's class content, and a traditionally orga-
nized classroom limits the implementation of this process.
Committed to feminist pedagogy, we started our course with a vaguely
structured syllabus that would allow for collectively developing course
content and direction throughout the semester with the students. The
syllabus did, however, specify the course goals, provide a set of guidelines
for how classroorn discussions and negotiations would be implemented,
and stipulate a set of criteria for grading. In addition, it listed the dates of
each class period but did not provide topics or readings.
As instructors, we immediately recognized our discomfort with be-
ginning the course without a detailed outline. What would we do each
class period? How could we guarantee that the course would cover the
"necessary" information? Most unnerving, how could we assure our pre-
paredness each class, given our other academic responsibilities, if we had
to think through each class period on a week-to-week basis? We com-
monly felt that this was the "scariest classroom endeavor" that we had
ever undertaken.
As we began to feel co1nfortable about our decisions regarding the syl-
labus and the unstructured nature of the course, class began. We dis-
cussed the syllabus with the students and emphasized that they would
collectively help build the curriculum and could participate in recon-
structing the grading criteria. The students quickly made us aware of
their discomfort, which was not unlike our own. In the first week's jour-
nal entries, we discovered their fear about not being provided with a
"banking" model of education:

What outline? This 1nakes me very nervous. We haven't even closed the date
for the field trip. I would prefer things to be more set. I haven't been unsyllab-
FEMINIST PEDAGOGY ANO SCIENCE EDUCATION 99

ied [sic] since high school. It makes prioritizing assignment times difficult. I'm
used to structuring my week relative to my work load. This makes me think
of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: A thing is either good or not
good and we don't need an enforced system of letters to tell us what is what.
On the other hand, life without letters could be difficult. I'm used to compar-
ing myself to the class averages and I'm truly frightened of flying blind.

There is one thing I find disturbing-grading. Most institutions require grad-

ing and therefore teachers of feminist pedagogy must grade. Why should one
participant in a class receive a higher grade then [sicl another for a journal
entry?

At the outset, some students were also unsure about the "transformed"
classroom setting. In particular, the natural science majors expressed
great discomfort about sitting in a circle and opening all inquiry to dis-
cussion. After class the first evening, a geology major confided to Peg
(Margaret) that sitting in a circle and verbally participate in class dis-
cussions felt uncomfortable and foreign because she had been so well
schooled in traditional science classrooms. Because of her discomfort,
she was unsure whether or not she could continue in the class. In con-
trast, the social science and humanities majors in the course were quite
familiar with this arrangement. Upon hearing about the discon1fort that
some students felt about the classroo1n organization, a women's studies
major commented, "I wouldn't know what to do if I walked into a class-
room and the chairs were not in a circle or if there wasn't a lot of discus-
sion!" In time, however, we all became more comfortable with the class-
room environment and the emphasis on "process" learning. Students
soon started to provide us with a wealth of ideas about topics that they
desired to explore. In response, we designed class periods to incorporate
their interests and concerns. The strong classroom emphasis on experi-
ential, collaborative, and self-directed learning, however, presented us
with a web of other challenges.

(Un)connected Knowledge
Providing to students, and ourselves, the experience of a process-oriented
learning environment was only one of the hurdles that we faced in our at-
tempt to infuse the classroom with a feminist pedagogy and collaboratively
constructed knowledge. Early in the course, we recognized that achieving
the goal of constructing a truly interdisciplinary course was hindered by
our own academic backgrounds. The following example illustrates this
problem: Peg, trained as a geologist, knew the importance of understanding
plate tectonics, the hydrologic cycle, the rock cycle, the composition of the
earth, and geological hazards and processes. For students to become scien-
tifically and environmentally literate, she maintained that these concepts
100 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

should be discussed. Maralee, trained as a sociologist and women's stud-

ies scholar, knew that any solid interdisciplinary knowledge would need
to include discussions about epistemology, feminist critiques of science,
policy formation processes, and the relationship of race, class, gender,
and power to scientific and environmental inquiry. She adamantly stated,
"the students must understand the concepts of epistemology, ideology,
hegemony, and standpoint before the end of the semester." During the
first few weeks of the course, each of us was determined to center class
discussions on many of the concepts that make up our introductory
classes. As we struggled with allotting time for each of the various dis-
cussions that must occur, our joke became, "two-two-two introductory
classes in one."
Students, however, did not find this humorous. They found jumping
between discussions of feminist critiques of science and sessions de-
voted to earth processes quite unnerving. For example, after several
weeks of discussing feminist critiques of science, we wanted to illus-
trate how a variety of perspectives could be employed to examine a sci-
entific concept. We decided to discuss the concept of "plate tectonics"
by exploring the numerous ways in which this theory is presented at the
introductory level and then trying to understand the relationship be-
tween the history and development of plate tectonics and our everyday
lives and culture. We had expected students to be fascinated by the idea
that scientific knowledge can have a subjective, cultural, and historical
component. What we discovered, however, was their hunger for more
"scientific" inquiry. A female social science major commented in a jour-
nal entry:
If the continents never sink and they keep pushing against each other and
erosion keeps happening, do the continents get smaller? Or is there enough
volcanism to prevent this? Do new continents ever form? Have their shapes
changed much? This subject fascinates n1e. Are there any classes on this that
I could take as a non-science major?

Another student, a male biology major, obviously tiring of our attempts

to always look at science within a social context, wrote this about the
plate tectonics session:
This was the best class session yet. Hopefully, this will continue. It is very
relieving to finally get into earth syste1ns1 which I thought was to be the
mainstay of the class rather than feminism. I thought it is from a fen1inist
approach we are to learn the earth systems, not to learn the feminist approach
itself. If I solely wanted to learn the feminism, I would have enrolled in wom-
en's studies 101, not this class.

As feminist educators, we were thrilled by the fascination with sci-

ence expressed by our fe1nale student who, we later learned, had shied
FEMINIST PEDAGOGY AND SCIENCE EDU C ATIO N
101

away from science courses since her early high school years. We were
less pleased by the reaction of our male science major. Why had the ap-
proach failed to be of interest to him? What could spur his desire to learn
how fe1ninist critiques of science could be a new approach to evaluating,
understanding, and conducting science? It wasn't until the last two
weeks of the course that we would begin to be able to answer these and
other questions. In the meantime, we were slowly becoming aware of
how difficult it is to develop integrated knowledge.
Our inability to create interdisciplinary knowledge continued to
haunt us. At one point, the students agreed to spend two weeks research-
ing the relationship between concentrations of nonrenewable natural re-
sources and political economies. They were to find literature that ad-
dressed why a particular resource (e.g., diamonds or copper ore) was
concentrated in one part of the world (e.g., South Africa or South Amer-
ica) and the relationship between the presence of that resource and the
country's political organization (e.g., apartheid or revolutions). After the
two-week period, one student reflected the sentiment of many others by
commenting:
I found more than 300 entries in the library [relating to the mineral I wanted
to study], some even in English, but none made any sense. I knew that science
was not an easy subject, but I get the feeling I'm reading a foreign language. In
another section of the library, I found that the De Beers people Ian interna-
tional family cartel] are known as the syndicate and insulated themselves
into the financial fabric of a recalcitrant Australian government. They then
threatened to disrupt the Australian economy if they !the syndicate] were not
allowed to control newly discovered diamond 1nines. I understand some of
what is being said, but I can't put it into words I understand or integrate what
I am reading. This is an impossible task.

Further1nore, the resource librarian called us on the telephone during

this stage of the course to convey her dismay at the graying of her hair
as she worked with many of the students individually trying to help
them locate the resources necessary for the successful completion of the
project.
Solving the problem of "integrating knowledge" became a class goal.
Students listened for and worked intently toward the moment that knowl-
edge about earth and social processes would feel integrated.

Connected Knowledge
It was not until the last several weeks of the course that ,ve began col-
lectively to feel the integration of knowledge. On one occasion, we were
engaged in an oil-exploration game intended to demonstrate the geologi-
cal concepts of oil reservoirs and traps. The game was designed to get
students interested in learning about sedimentary strata, faults, folds,
102 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

and the difference between petroleum resources and reserves by having

them play the role of an independent petroleu1n company with geologists
and economists who needed to make business decisions about where to
purchase land and drill for petroleum exploration. What our students
gained, however, was a new understanding of capitalist consciousness.
The game resulted not only in an increased knowledge about where
petroleum may be trapped but also in a clearer understanding of the
social and economic forces that shape our utilization of the earth's
natural resources. The students identified the relationship between nat-
ural resources and economic imperatives, as evidenced by these journal
entries:
When we first started the game, I had a few unvoiced objections. [I wanted to
ask,] what about the environment, ecology, and social consequences of drill-
ing for petroleum? However, these were quickly forgotten as the excitement
mounted. Our teatn wanted to be the first to "strike gold." So we bought
information about the land, searched for the best places to drill, bought
land, and drilled. We made a profit so we did it again. Soon we were up to
$950,000, we were rolling in money and profits were soaring. Could we
stop? No! Did I have any reservation about continuing? No. We went abso-
lutely crazy with greed and power. We bought and drilled and bought and
drilled .... I felt horrified at the greedy little capitalist I had become land so
easily)!

My desire to finish first and make a profit clouded my thinking. Never once
did I think about the flora or fauna on top of the earth, only what was under-
neath. I looked at risk factors in terms of dollars only, and never once thought
of huLnan penalties.

Perhaps one of our most successful efforts at integrating fields of

knowledge occurred during a weekend excursion into Death Valley to
see and experience many of the geological processes and features dis-
cussed in class. Sedimentary deposits, limestone, sandstone, and basalt,
in the words of one student, "are easier to understand when they're tan-
gible." We also encouraged the students (and ourselves) to pay attention
to the group's social dynamics, hoping to develop a sense of camaraderie
between individuals. The weekend experience, although trying ~ecause
of seventy-two hours of strong winds, rain, and snow, effectively con-
nected knowledge and process. The connectedness was experienced by
many students as an "active" learning process. This journal entry re-
flects the comments made by many of the students:
The field trip to Death Valley was a great application of feminist pedagogy. It
incorporated much of what we have learned in class into an understanding of
geological processes with a societal and personal perspective. To be able to
reach out and touch rocks that are 1.6 billion years old means so 1nuch more
FEMINIST PEDAGOGY ANO SCIENCE EDUCATION
103

than hearing that rocks of such a great age exist. Physical involvement [with
the earth! alone, however, doesn't guarantee a more holistic approach. The
questions and comments and the camaraderie of the group was certainly a
crucial part of the learning process. That process would not have had such
impact if it had been presented in the same dry, sterile method so common to
the usual scientific field trip.

During the second day of the field trip, we entered Mosaic Canyon and
observed faulted, brecciated, and polished limestone that is beautifully
displayed in the steep-sided, narrow, curving passage into and through
the mountains. We stopped to consider how the history of a fault (and its
nature) cannot be captured by observing a limited rock section. Sud-
denly, and spontaneously, the students began to discuss the unforeseen
environmental problems that could result from the spatially limited geo-
logical study being conducted at the proposed Yucca Mountain Nuclear
Repository site, which is located a hundred miles north of Las Vegas: a
site marked by numerous active and inactive faults. To the onlooking
tourists, students discussing the geological research at Yucca Mountain
may have seemed disassociated from the geological story told by the
rocks in Mosaic Canyon. To our group, however, the limited history of
deposition, faulting, fracturing, and fluid flow that was recorded in the
Mosaic Canyon outcrop constituted a warning. The important questions
became apparent to us all: What geological questions were scientists at
Yucca Mountain addressing? What geological evidence was being over-
looked on account of the limited area within which geological observa-
tions were taking place? Should other questions be asked? Can geological
questions truly be evaluated through "site assessment" or should more
regional investigations be required? Who was being allowed (funded) to
study the geology of Yucca Mountain? Do the questions asked, investiga-
tions conducted, and conclusions formed vary with funding agents? What
are the potential human consequences? Have scientists not already de-
stroyed the sacred land of the Western Shoshone by building roads, drill-
ing wells, and digging tunnels for scientific inquiry to justify the dis-
posal of human waste? Geological processes, the construction of scientific
knowledge, power, influence, and hu1nan consequences all emerged as
important topics of discussion while we observed the faults and frac-
tured limestone of Mosaic Canyon.
After observing how our discussion had moved from the effects of lo-
cal faulting to a critique of the geological studies being conducted at
Yucca Mountain, one student commented:

The field trip from heaven and hell. We are integrating a world view with a
world we are only beginning to know. The discussion in Mosaic Canyon had
the quality of synthesis that we search for when we reach out to read a book,
touch a leaf, quench a thirst, or to hold the hand of another.
104 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

This is just one of many stories to emerge from our attempt to develop a
truly interdisciplinary course and to teach it from a feminist perspective.

(De)constructing Knowledge
Developing interdisciplinary knowledge requires a collaborative effort
and a commitment to process learning. Moreover, this process forces
both students and teachers to engage in a continuous effort to invent new
knowledge.
The significance of process-based learning became clear to us after a
frustrating small-group exercise aimed at demonstrating the various
types of information scientists need for determining the epicenter and
focus of an earthquake. During this exercise many of the social science
and humanities majors, who were mostly women, had difficulty working
through a series of arithmetic and algebra problems, using ruler and com-
pass, and plotting to scale on a map. The angst built to such a level that
the exercise manuals were literally being pushed to the corner of their
desks and shoved into backpacks-pushed away and out of sight, where
they could not intimidate. One student lost all interest in scientific in-
quiry during this agonizing session:

The inner workings of how an earthquake occurs and how its epicenter is
calculated seem understandable. However, once I tried to do it, with the coin-
pass and equation in hand, I was dumbstruck. For the life of me I couldn't
grasp what was seemingly an easy task. Is it really so i1nportant to know where
the epicenter of an earthquake is?

We felt that the level of math anxiety and student disengagement with
the project, which surfaced during the session, needed to be addressed.
The following week we decided to place our central focus on this issue
and "do math anxiety." Maralee, recognizing her own difficulty with the
project, walked the students through the various mental images and
thinking processes that she herself had had to use in an attempt to solve
the mathematical equations. The presentation forced her to discuss her
fear of confronting a proble1n that could not be contextualized br histori-
cized and made her carefully prepare a step-by-step description of how a
"mathematically challenged" mind might go about thinking through
the problem. This strategy, we hoped, would allow students to see that
fears and anxieties brought on by confronting math are neither unusual
nor limited to the "uneducated." Furthermore, we hoped that the strat-
egy would expose students to a multitude of ways to perform mathemati-
cal procedures.
The results were striking: the students fearful of math were now fully
engaged in the problem-solving process; other students began to offer
FEMINIST PEDAGOGY AND SCIENCE EDUCATI ON
105

their classmates a variety of approaches to solving the equation, thereby

helping us all develop a better appreciation for the multitude of ways that
"scientific" procedures can be conducted; and Maralee learned that even
11
she could "teach math. In addition, the experience underscored the im-
portance of a classroom environment in which all members of the class
care about each other's learning as well as their own.
In relation to this exercise, we also wanted to develop a sense of the
social and political aspects of earthquakes in order to address the ques-
tion "Is it really so important to know where the epicenter of an earth-
quake is?" We assembled a set of readings to demonstrate the human and
social dimensions of earthquakes and illustrate the importance of dis-
tinguishing between natural occurrences and natural "disasters." The
discussion that ensued allowed each of us to begin to understand the
relationship between scientific knowledge, social policy, and social in-
equality. Throughout these sessions the language of sociology was spo-
ken. For instance, the concept of "disaster" was revealed to be a socially
constructed concept, one that varies historically, culturally, and region-
ally. We called into question the "naturalness" of disasters by discussing
which segments of the population are most vulnerable to natural disas-
ters and observed that such events overwhelmingly kill poor people in
poor countries. The discussion illuminated how scientific language of-
ten obscures the social, political, and human consequences of scientific
knowledge and provided us a new way to think about the social context
of science. When students (and ourselves) posed questions about how sci-
entific findings play out in everyday life, the distance between the natu-
ral and social sciences shrank.
By the end of the unit, we had discussed the science of earthquakes
and how scientists locate and evaluate earthquakes, as well as how so-
cial policies regarding earthquake occurrences are formed. We discov-
ered that an earthquake's impact on human life is interrelated with a
variety of social policies and social conditions. Scientific procedures and
findings were now joined with the question of who benefits from "sci-
ence" and who doesn't. Reflecting on her newly acquired knowledge
about where earthquakes are likely to occur, how scientists study them,
and the social and political implications of earthquakes, one student
wrote:
Almost like a puzzle where the scene is at first confusing and obscure, then
suddenly becomes clear and obvious when completed. The discussion and
reading led me to put together bits and pieces of information that I already
had into a co1nplete picture. I said "of course" when I finally recognized that,
although we can do little about natural "occurrences," we can do a lot about
how humans are impacted by them, and the social inequities of how different
groups are affected by natural phenomena.
106 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXI S

Implications for Social Transformation: Fostering Praxis

At its core, feminist pedagogy is a com mitment not only to interdisci-
plinary knowledge and process learning but also to the development of a
critical consciousness empowered to apply knowledge to social action
and social transfonnation. Nancy Schniedewind suggests that a funda-
mental co1nponent of feminist pedagogy is "learning a process for apply-
ing theory to practice, attempting to change a concrete situation based
on that learning, and recreating theory based on that activity" (1993, 25).
Without this component, commonly known as praxis, feminist pedagogy
merely becomes, in the words of Jane Kenway and Helen Modra, "wish -
fu l thinking" (1992, 156).
Five 1nonths after the course had ended, we wanted to better under-
stand the impact Earth Systems: A Femin ist Approach had had on the
students', and our own, social and political awareness. Had the class af-
fected day-to-day understandings of either the earth or society? Did the
class have an impact on a student's intellectual and personal life? Had
the content and pedagogy of the class inspired new attitudes about envi-
ronmental and social change?
Kristin Kampschroeder, a sociology graduate student working as a re-
search assistant in the Departinent of Geoscience, interviewed six stu-
dents from our class, asking them to discuss these questions. When stu-
dents discussed their understanding of the interrelatedness of earth
systems and social systems, some expressed concern over the role natu-
ral resources play in the development of foreign policy:
Anytime I hear about national policy or military policy (like in Rwanda), I am
always wondering what is it that our country wants to export from the other
country. What do they have that we want? I'm not as naive.

I think the 1nost i1nportant thing that I gained was a new insight into how
geology and sociology are interrelated and how social policies don't naturally
evolve from things that we are taught to think of as beyond human control,
such as mineral deposits.

A number of students also expressed a new awareness of the social con-

text within which scientific "knowledge" is produced:
I have a greater interest in the structure of scientific knowledge and how it
has shaped our culture and political policies.

Most important to 1ne was the idea that science is not objective. That was a
new concept for me at the time.

The course greatly changed my perception of society. I was always earth-

centered and it certainly helped me refine my feelings of frustration with en-
 FEMINIST PEDAGOGY AND SCIENCE EDUCATION
107

vironmental issues; particularly in regard to how capitalis1n and science shape

our environmental policy.

For other students the course reinforced previously held beliefs and, for
some, helped them better articulate their environmental and social
attitudes:
Because I have a major that is interdisciplinary, women's studies, before the
class I was always looking for things that were interrelated. The class was
solid proof that everything is interrelated, even geology and sociology. Since
being a women's studies major, I have become more active in my community.
t The Earth Systems class is definitely a part of my continued involvement,
since it was a class in my major field.

I had a lot of knowledge about the earth and U.S. society before taking this
class. What the class did was to clarify what I knew and also to give me the
facts and figures to back up my general knowledge and intuition.

Everything in your life, any bit of learning has some effect. The course rein-
forced my feminist feelings and gave me 1nore confidence in the1n. I now have
fewer doubts about what I want to do, where I want to go, and what I want to
acco1nplish.

For many students the awareness of earth processes and social systems
had an impact on their daily activities. By engaging in individual activ-
ism, most students felt they could be effective agents of social change in
everyday life:
I have stopped dying my hair! I wear cotton clothes now. It's not a good thing
but I still get my nails done, you cannot make me stop. You don't know how
much guilt [the class] made me feel. I cannot do anything in my house. I can-
not throw away Styrofoam containers, I cannot open my refrigerator without
realizing the effect it is having on the ozone layer. When I take my one bag of
garbage out a week, for both 1ne and my husband, which I don't think is all
that much, I feel guilty because it is in a Hefty bag that probably will way
outlive me. I live differently. I don't leave the water running when I brush my
teeth. I don't take bubble baths as often. OK, once in awhile I do. I deserve
them, it's a right. I put in desert landscaping in my backyard. I mean this
class had a profound effect on 1ne, preppy USA.

I quit shaving my legs while the water was running in the shower. That was
my big thing.

When I found out that the water table is diminished to the point it is, now
every time I turn on the faucets I look over my shoulder.

Statements such as these suggest just how quickly students respond

to new ideas about the interrelatedness of earth and social processes.
108 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

Nonetheless, as we mentioned above, the emancipatory potential of fem-

inist pedagogy is often subsu1ned in feminist classroo1ns by what Ken-
way and Modra refer to as the "over-valorization of consciousness-raising"
(156). While consciousness-raising-or awareness that the personal is
political-is certainly a mission of feminist educators, consciousness it-
self is not readily transformed into a plan for social action or social
change. The potential of feminist classroom dynamics to succeed in
raising consciousness and fail in engaging people to act collectively upon
the world was clearly demonstrated by a number of the students enrolled
in Earth Systems: A Feminist Approach. Several students did articulate a
plan of action, however, and expressed a commitment to becoming politi-
cally involved in groups and organizations dedicated to environmental
and social transformation. It is not surprising that these students had pre-
viously been community activists for whom confronting the particular
environmental and social issues examined during the course became one
more challenge. One student, a former local chapter president of NOW,
expressed a new interest in becoming involved in environmental issues:
I think I would like to become more involved in environmental change than I
have been in the past. I have always stayed away from environmental issues,
not really understanding them. My political involvement in the past revolved
around women's rights and I think that this class showed me a lot of things
interrelated to women's rights and clarified to 1ne that relationship.
Another student, a self-defined environmental activist, commented upon
her new interest in women's issues:
I branched out my memberships in groups. I have always been an environ-
mentalist and belonged to a lot of environmenta l groups. However, I recently
joined NOW. Although I don't have time to really do a lot of things, my inter-
ests are a little broader now and I now make donations to environmental and
women's organizations and help out on a local level in whatever ways I can.
One woman saw new challenges ahead:
So now I have another cause to which to commit my efforts. Not only will I be
a crusader for environmental awareness, but I will also try to show people how
the same 1nisguided value system, and the controlling interests that helped
create that value system, has led to not only environmental degradation, but
are destructive to the cultures and the lives of people around the world.
We noted earlier that feminist pedagogy premises the student as
student-teacher and the teacher as teacher-student. We have thus asked
ourselves the same questions we asked our students: Did the class affect
our understanding of the earth and social systems? Did the class have an
impact on our intellectual and personal lives? Did the class inspire us to
act upon the world? As with many of our students, the movement we are
 FEMINIST PEDAGOGY AND SCIENCE EDUCATION 109

making toward transformative knowledge and transformative social

change is largely built upon our particular life situations. Peg currently
teaches a moderately large section of Introductory Physical Geology, and
she now weaves feminist pedagogy into this n1uch more traditional class-
room. As part of this change, she is committed to making the curricu-
lum more environmentally oriented and more oriented toward the stu-
dents' lives on a local and global level. In addition, Peg is a guest lecturer
in Maralee's sociology classes, where she presents a deeply moving por-
trayal of her own experiences as a woman trained as a scientist, a scien-
tist who is now questioning many of the assumptions upon which her
C
academic and personal development are based. Peg describes her transi-
tion as, "scary, but once you start to question who you are and what you
know, you can never go back." Maralee is now fascinated by exploring
new ways of i1nple1nenting feminist pedagogy in all her courses. More
important, perhaps, is her new understanding of how sociology and the
natural sciences can inform one another. She is developing sections on
science in both her introductory sociology and women's studies courses.
She is also giving seminars to geoscientists on the ways one can build
bridges between feminism and science. Furthermore, her sabbatical leave
is dedicated to further exploring the intersections of knowledge. Most
recently, Maralee and Peg have received funding from the National Sci-
ence Foundation to launch a three-year educational project, the Social
Study of Geology.
Clearly, fostering praxis is a complicated and difficult task. However,
we believe that any attempts to integrate social and scientific knowledge
promote a better understanding of the ways in which knowledge can be-
gin to be transformative.

Conclusion
We, as feminists, as well as many others, believe that the creation of a
contextualized science education together with feminist pedagogy will
speak to the interests of many people and will challenge us all to exam-
ine the role science plays in shaping definitions of knowledge, power
relations, and social inequalities. Our experiences developing and par-
ticipating in the teaching of Earth Systems: A Feminist Approach dem-
onstrated that the gap between the social and natural sciences can be
narrowed. Furthermore, our effort to implement feminist pedagogy in an
interdisciplinary "science" classroom strengthened the ability of all stu-
dents (and ourselves) in the class to play an active role in transformative
learning and environmental, social, and political action. As we have
pointed out throughout this chapter, science education may be the pivotal
110 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

arena in which theory and practice can become powerful agents of social
change.
Fro1n our perspective, the course Earth Systems: A Feminist Approach
and others like it are ilnportant additions to the academy providing new
educational opportunities for faculty and students, illustrating the need
for institutional change, and stilnulating debate. We think that institu-
tional changes must include supporting team teaching for faculty educa-
tion, funding interdisciplinary resource development, and rewarding
curriculum reform. Fro1n the perspective of women's studies, our course
provided to students an educational experience that reflected the funda-
mental tenets of feminist education: it was interdisciplinary, it empha-
sized social transfor1nation, and it allowed students to play a central part
in the construction of their education. Furthermore, it illustrated why it
1nay be important to integrate natural science concepts into the tradi-
tional women's studies curriculu1n . From the perspective of conventional
science, however, there may be some question regarding whether it was a
"science course," regarding the degree to which students were prepared to
enter the next level geology course and the need for the course in the cur-
riculum. We are convinced that Earth Systen1s is a science course that
prepares students to bring new perspectives to other science courses and
provides an ilnportant educational component for all of us who live in a
technologically advanced society.
Judging from the students' written work and journal entries, it is clear
that their understanding of geological concepts and social processes had
increased to widely varying degrees by the end of the semester. The so-
cial science and humanities majors demonstrated only a 1nodestly in-
creased understanding of geological concepts, but they had developed a
much more co1nplex understanding about how capitalist and hegemonic
processes shape scientific inquiry and the u ses to which science is put.
The natural science students, by contrast, had developed at least an ele-
mentary understanding of how social systems shape scientific enter-
prises and had begun to recognize the i1nportance of discussing scientific
concepts in a historical and social context. We believe these changes are
important. It remains unclear, however, to what degree this class in-
spired students to pursue other geology, sociology, or women's studies
courses. .
These considerations and questions bring us to suggest several broad
areas for improvement within the academy and within our course. We
believe that the significance of "doing science" and '1doing social life"
beco1nes clearest when course content and discussion continually illu-
minate the connections between everyday happenings and science and
provide students the opportunity to construct connections between sci-
ence and day-to-day experiences. Thus the primary point to consider is
FEMINIST PEDAGOGY ANO SCIENCE EDU CATI ON 111

how educational activities, readings, and exercises can be developed and

implemented to demonstrate, across disciplines, why the learning of sci-
entific, sociological, and feminist concepts is important.
We have identified a number of specific areas for iinprovement for our
course that may be applicable to other courses on the social study of sci-
ence as well as to many other courses across the curriculum. First, a va-
riety of well-planned field trips to sites within the local Las Vegas com-
munity must be designed to expose students to the connections between
their everyday life and natural science processes. Outings of this kind
may be more useful than one culminating field trip. Second, a broad
range of interdisciplinary projects and experiential, hands-on labs need
to be developed that require the active engagement of students and in-
structors at every step. The projects and labs would aim to help partici-
pants construct scientific and sociological understandings from their
own observations and experiences. Third, numerous collaborative group
projects that bring science and nonscience majors together, allowing
them to be both teachers and learners, must be developed to create the
space for a dialogue to begin between diverse types of knowledge. Fi-
nally, new interd isciplinary literature (especially from the environ-
mental sciences, women's studies, and the humanities) combined with
the knowledge base of earth scientists could be used to highlight the
relationship between technology and geological or natural science pro-
cesses and our everyday lives (especially those of indigenous peoples and
women).
Our discovery of new ways to develop a relational and interdisciplin-
ary science pedagogy and curriculum is an important first step in moti-
vating students to broaden their social and scientific knowledge. We
hope, also, that curricular changes like the ones we implemented may
begin to alleviate the fears and misconceptions many conventional sci-
entists have about interdisciplinary projects of this nature. These
changes, combined with a growing awareness that science education
needs to reach a more diverse audience in order to improve science liter-
acy and to diversify the pool of scientists, may foster the building of
"two-way streets" (Fausto-Sterling 1981) between social, feminist, and
scientific inquiry.

Acknowledgments
The authors would like to thank the NWSA Journal reviewers and Ellen Cronan
Rose for their helpful co1nments on an earlier version of this chapter. The final
preparation of this chapter was, at least in part, supported by the National Sci-
ence Foundation under Grant HRD-9555721.
112 FEMINIST PEDAGOGICAL THEORY AND PRAXIS

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Freire, Paulo. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. New York: Continuum, 1983.
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Henderson, Rebecca. Female Participation in Undergraduate Math , Science,
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Hollenshead, Carol, et al. "Women Graduate Students in Mathematics and Phys-
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Kelly, A. "The Construction of Masculine Science." British fournal of Sociology
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Kenway, Jane, and Helen Modra. " Feminist Pedagogy and Emancipatory Possi-
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New York: Routledge, 1992.
Maher, F. A., and M. K. T. Tetreault. The Feminist Classroom. New York : Basic
Books, 1994.
Maher, Frinde. "Toward a Richer Theory of Feminist Pedagogy: A Comparison
of ' Liberation' and 'Gender' Models for Teaching and Learning." fournal of
Education 169.3 (1987): 91-100.
Manis, J. M ., et al. An Analysis of Factors A ffecting Choices in Majors in Science
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University of Michigan Center for Continuing Education of Women, 1989.
Otto, P. "One Science, One Sex?" School Science and Mathematics 91.8 (1991):
367-73. ,
Rosser, Sue. Female-Friendly Science. New York: Pergamon, 1990.
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sity of South Carolina System Model Project for the Transformation of Sci-
ence and Math Teaching to Reach Women in Varied Campus Settings."
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29-44.
Schniedewind, Nancy. "Teaching Feminist Process in the 1990s." Women's
Studies Quarterly 21.3-4 (1 993): 17- 30.
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Sey1nour, N. M., and E. Hewitt. Factors Contributing to l{igh Attrition Rates

among Sci ence, Mathematics, and Engineering Undergraduate Majors. Re-
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Shrewsbury, Carolyn . "What Is Feminist Pedagogy?" Women's Studies Quarterly
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PART II Pedagogical Practices in the Feminist Classroom
 CHAPTER SEVEN

Small Group Pedagogy: Consciousness-Raising

in Conservative Times

ESTELLE B. FREEDMAN

In the fall of 1988 I began teaching the introductory course in the Femi-
nist Studies Program at Stanford University. "Introduction to Fen1inist
Studies: Issues and Methods" (FSl0l) had grown from a small discussion
class to a mediu1n-sized lecture course with separate section meetings
1- for sixty-six students. The subject 1natter ranges from the origins of sex-
ual inequality and the history of feminism to conte1nporary paid and
unpaid labor, race and feminism, reproductive rights and sexuality, and
violence against women. Because many of these topics raise both emo-
tional and political sensitivities, I felt that FSl0l required a forum in
which students could discuss their personal reactions to classroom learn-
ing. Even more than the U.S. women's history classes I had taught previ-
ously, "Introduction to Feminist Studies" permitted, and indeed neces-
sitated, the integration of the personal and the academic.
In preparing the course, I wondered how I might use consciousness-
raising in the classroom to achieve this end, and whether my 1970s experi-
ence of consciousness-raising would work with the more conservative
students of the late 1980s. By consciousness-raising I mean the sharing of
personal-experience with others in order to understand the larger social
context for the experience and to transform one's intellectual or political
understandings of it. Once before, in a women's history class, I had experi-
mented with the explicit use of consciousness-raising in the classroom.
On the day we discussed documents from the feminist movements of the
1960s and 1970s, I spontaneously turned the class into a consciousness-
raising session. We formed a circle and spoke in turn about how one article
or idea in the readings had affected each of us personally. The experi-
ment took over an entire week of the course, as students shared feelings
of both anger and inspiration, revealed personal experiences with sexism
on campus, and reacted to the differences that emerged in their views.
The evaluations of the exercise were enthusiastic, so the next year I built
a consciousness-ra ising session into the syllabus. Again, the students
reported that they not only understood the historical experience of femi-
nism more clearly, but that they also made important connections be-
tween the past and the world around them.
In addition to this and other positive models, I had more defensive rea-
sons for incorporating consciousness-raising into the introductory

Originally published in the Autumn 1990 issue of the NWSA Journal

118 PEDAGOGICAL PRACTICES I N THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

course.1 The preceding year, a hostile male student had tried unsuccess-
fully to disrupt FS101, and at the University of Washington, one 1nale
student had the class placed the entire women's studies program under
attack by claiming that classes discriminated against men. I wanted to
forestall such disruptions as much as possible by creating a place outside
of the classroom where emotional responses might be shared with peers
and not simply directed at faculty. Aside from hostile students, I worried
about the feelings of alienation that students of minority race, class, eth-
nicity, sexual identity, or physical ability would experience in a predomi-
nantly white, middle-class, heterosexual, and able-bodied classroom. 2
Consciousness-raising groups might allow these students to acknowl-
edge their feelings and make personal and intellectual connections be-
tween gender and other forms of social hierarchy.
To faculty who are veterans of 1970s women's studies classes or who
work in public universities or small liberal arts colleges committed to
teaching, my rationale for incorporating consciousness-raising into the
classroom may seem unnecessary. But I work within an extremely elitist
university in which pedagogy is rarely discussed, and academic advance-
ment depends almost exclusively on scholarship. At this university, op-
ponents of the term "feminist studies" shudder at such a self-conscious
reference to the political nature of knowledge and associate feminist
scholarship with a political radicalism they consider anti-intellectual.
Indeed, even a colleague at a feminist studies meeting reacted to my
plans for setting up consciousness-raising groups by warning that it was
inappropriate and unprofessional for me to attempt to do "therapy" in
my classes.3 Students who signed up for FSlOl arrived in a state of ex-
treme fear of feminism. Most associated the term with an unpleasant
militancy and refused to accept the label "feminist" even if they be-
lieved in the liberal goals of the movement.
In this setting, I feel that the use of consciousness-raising has to be
handled carefully, not only for its pedagogical value but for the political
well-being of the course and the program. Even on more liberal cam-
puses, these conservative times might make faculty wary of the explicit
use of consciousness-raising groups. I believe that now more than ever,
however, we need to confront students' fears of feminism and of social
change. As women's studies courses become part of general education
and distribution requirements on many campuses, we can expect more
conservative or nonfeminist students in our classes. From my experience
teaching FSlOl, I believe that consciousness-raising can be an extremely
effective way to address the fear of feminis1n held by many of these stu-
dents. This chapter then, is an effort to share my own and the students'
experience with consciousness-raising in the late 1980s in order to en-
courage the careful incorporation of personal experience into academic
classes wherever this might be appropriate.
SMALL GROUP PEDAGOGY 119

• * ...
With advice from feminist colleagues, I devised a structure for making
consciousness-raising central to FSl0l. Required biweekly group meet-
ings supplemented an already demanding course-three lectures, heavy
reading, a discussion section weekly, and three papers during the quar-
ter.4 Thus, to make clear from the outset that the groups were not extra-
curricular but integral to the process of learning, I spelled out on the
syllabus the rules for attendance and the format of sessions; and I stressed
the importance of a final paper evaluating the groups. On the recommen-
dation of several colleagues, this paper would not be graded, lest students
feel judged for either their emotions or their politics. Knowing Stanford
students' sensitivities about language and politics, I called the process
"small groups." Although I referred to consciousness raising in my lec-
tures, students continued to speak of their "small groups" rather than
"consciousness-raising groups."
The major dilemma I faced, however, was not about naming, but
whether to create random groups that would mix students from various
backgrounds or to create minority support groups- for women or stu-
dents of color, lesbians and/or lesbians and gay men, disabled, male, eth-
nic, or working-class students. As much as I wanted to diminish minor-
ity alienation, I felt that it was more important for each group to confront
the issues of difference with as much firsthand information as possible.
In addition, many students had multiple or overlapping identities; con-
structing separate groups would force them to choose only one basis of
support. For these reasons, the groups were formed by a random sorting
of names into thirteen sets of four or five students each. (I hoped that the
small size, compared with discussion sections of up to twenty-one stu-
dents, would make scheduling easier, allow students to meet in a dorm
roo1n, and help to build friendships.) Each group had to meet five times
during the ten-week quarter, for a session lasting about two hours, at a
time to be arranged by group members.
I assigned readings for the first session only: Pam Allen's "Free Space"
and Irene Peslikis's "Resistances to Consciousness.''5 I also recommended
a rotating timekeeper, leaderless groups, and an uninterrupted five to ten
minutes for each member to speak at the outset of sessions. Suggested
topics para lleled the syllabus and attempted to link course readings and
lectures with everyday life. "How does your personal experience of race,
class and ethnicity affect your response to what you are learning?" fol-
lowed the lecture on race and feminism and coincided with a required
"unlearning racism" workshop.6 When we studied women and work, the
suggested question asked students to relate readings and lectures to jobs,
families, and campus life. I left one week open for student topics and
closed with a question to parallel our reading of Marge Piercy's utopian
novel, Woman on the Edge of Time: "What one thing would you most
120 PEDAGOGICAL PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

want to change about our current world? 11 Students were asked to keep
private journals after groups but not to submit them. The final paper
evaluating the groups was to draw heavily upon the journal.7
During the quarter, several incidents on campus, in the community,
and in the classroom intensified the importance of consciousness-raising
and expanded it beyond the groups and into the lecture sessions. On
·campus, two white students posted racist slurs in the Afro-American
theme house, igniting a yearlong debate over the action and the adminis-
tration's response, and heightening awareness of racism. Then, against
the backdrop of the Bush-Dukakis campaign, a few antiabortion activists
mobilized conservative women to join Operation Rescue's blockade of
local abortion clinics, while campus feminists formed a prochoice alli-
ance. Within the classroom, students responded to the readings on les-
bian feminism with such a profound silence that I felt compelled to chal-
lenge their homophobia. Borrowing a technique from a colleague at an
even 1nore conservative university, I asked students to write hypotheti-
cal "coming out letters" to their parents, drawing on their readings about
lesbianism and hon1ophobia. 8 At the same time, the students' presump-
tion of their instructor's heterosexuality made me extremely uncomfort-
able about "passing" as straight and raised 1ny own consciousness to the
point that for the first time I came out in a classroom as a lesbian.
Thus for me, as well as for the students, FSl0l took unexpected turns.
On two occasions, for example, students raised my consciousness about
issues that personally affected them. First, shortly before my lecture on
sexual violence, I received a call from an incest survivor in the course
who had been distressed by the lack of readings on incest. I asked her
permission to discuss the call, anonymously, in class, and used the epi-
sode to talk about my own preconceptions about violence.9 Secondly, in
anticipation of the lecture on women and food, a student volunteered to
speak in class about her own struggles with anorexia and buli1nia. Her
moving, expert presentation provided both personal testi1nony and infor-
mation about support groups on campus. Inspired by her offer, I invited
other students in the class to speak about their personal involvement in
issues we studied. Members of the Rape Education Project did so, and
since no students came out in the lecture class, I invited representatives
from the Gay and Lesbian Alliance to speak on available student-support
services.
Meanwhile, students managed the small groups independently. Every
other week I asked for feedback on the groups during lecture. Although
students made few concrete comments at the time, they suggested that
the groups were going well and were important to them. Only at the end
of the course, after I read the set of sixty-six papers describing and evalu-
ating the groups, did I realize how critical they had been to the educa-
tional process. Several students felt that the groups were as important as
 SMALL GROUP PED AG OGY 121

the class itself; for some, they were "the best part," and for at least one,
"the most personally enriching part of the class.1110 Not every group,
however, succeeded in establishing a sense of purpose and facilitating
growth. Several groups had difficulty finding meeting times or sharing
personal experiences; their members felt disappointed when they com-
pared their experiences with those of the majority of students. Generally
though, papers from eleven of the thirteen groups testified to the power
of the small groups for enhancing student understanding of issues raised
in class and for contributing to both self-understanding and greater un-
derstanding of others.
,.
As they did for second-wave feminists of the 1960s and 1970s, conscious-
ness-raising groups in FS101 functioned to move students from silence to
speech, from isolation to community, and sometimes from political
ambivalence to political commitment. Once empowered to explore
ideas and feelings, a number of students were able to confront personal
dilem1nas, especially those concerning sexuality and race. As a result,
their definitions of feminism expanded. By the end of the course, the
majority of students reported that they had shifted from discomfort with
feminism to enthusiastic embrace of the term and its complexity. A
few made commitments to political activism. One sma ll group contin-
ued meeting throughout the year to support the feminist activism of its
members.
Although the degree of change varied greatly, the majority of students
reported that initially they had been "skeptical," "wary," "a little leery,"
"worried," "nervous," or "doubtful" about going to these "weird" and
"extra" groups. "Initially, I honestly dreaded the meetings," one student
who was "skeptical about [their! value" confessed; and another thought
she would "dread going every other week." A freshwoman felt "intimi-
dated at the thought of having to talk to such knowledgeable people"
and went to the first session "with a slight feeling of apprehension." For
several groups, the first meeting was "awkward," but rather quickly,
most students recounted, they were "pleasantly surprised," particularly
by "the high level of engagement and interest." Students "truly began to
look forward to the sessions." Repeatedly, the papers used the term "com-
fortable" to describe the atmosphere in which students found themselves
"eager to talk" and to listen to others. As one woman explained after the
first meeting, she "was actually excited to discuss new ideas openly and
honestly with the members of my group."
Throughout the small group papers, students expressed wonder at
their ability, even need, to talk about course issues. "We all began by say-
ing that we could not possibly talk as long as we were supposed to," one
woman recalled. "We then proceeded to talk longer than that, amazed
that we each had so much to say." Similarly, a member of another group
122 PEDAGOGICAL PRAC TICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

initially felt "Are we really supposed to just sit around and talk for an
hour and a half? That's such a long time and I've got real work to do for
other classes." Here, too, the group ran over time and "had no problem of
thinking of things to say." The student "came away from that meeting
with a sense of urgency that I had to tell others about this revolutionary
concept of small groups."
Students quickly adapted to this unusual assignment, in part because
the groups provided a safer place to try out ideas than did the traditional
lectures or sections. A woman of color in her first year of college found
the groups "extremely helpful" in discussing course topics "perhaps be-
cause I a1n not a very outspoken person, yet these groups were very com-
fortable, so I could express my feelings openly." Many other students re-
ported on the importance of meeting informally outside of the classroom.
The first group session "made me feel slightly more comfortable express-
ing myself in [the lecture! class because I had some idea of how others
might react," one woman wrote. "Basically, I didn't feel as alone with my
viewpoints after the first meeting." An Asian immigrant compared the
"sense of well being" in the group meeting to "times I used to share my
thoughts and dreams with my mom, my sister, my woman friends." The
experience was "empowering" for her because "I, a minority woman,
was taking part in naming myself, in taking control of my life." The per-
sonal gatherings, she explained, represented "a political statement."
The creation of safe space for talk rested upon the ability to listen. "A
very important part of making the discussion groups work so well was
that we really listened to each other, and let each other speak," one
woman wrote. For her, having uninterrupted time "was good practice
listening to people." A senior felt "comfortable speaking to an audi-
ence that was listening, not judging," while a highly articulate sopho-
more felt that "Small groups gave quieter people a chance to talk (un-
like 'loudmouths' like 1nyself)." Reciprocity of speaking and listening
seemed to characterize all groups, easing my fears that certain students
would dominate. As a senior wrote of her group: "All of a sudden I had
four therapists to listen to me. I in turn, could speak to their problems,
or simply listen to them." Like therapy, groups relied on speech to
achieve consciousness; but unlike therapy, they included neither experts
nor leaders. Because students preferred a natural flow of speech-and felt
their groups achieved balance among members, evaluations overwhelm-
ingly rejected the opening five to ten minute format. Students also criti-
cized the assignment of topics, preferring to choose their subjects
spontaneously.
Student papers provide many clues about why the groups offered safety
so quickly. For one, a supportive environment was especially necessary
for 1nembers of this class, given the hostility to feminism in the culture
at large and the university itself. Even enrolling in a fe1ninist studies
 SMALL GROUP PEDAGOGY 123

course could be stressful. Because many students "met with nervous re-
sponses from family and friends over taking the course," they "found it
was helpful to discuss these problems with others" in the small group.
Most members of one group thought that "our fathers felt threatened by
our studying feminism," and the students shared their responses from
family members.
Male students, who made up just under one-fifth of the class, may
have been particularly vulnerable to stigma. A freshman explained at his
first group meeting "how difficult it was being a guy feminist," for "not
only did he get badgered by guys, but also he got heat from women who
i saw his feminist comments sometimes as pickup lines." Another man
discovered from the different reactions of male and female friends "the
extent to which" his enrollment "was viewed as a political decision."
The experience of one male student illustrated the extent of male resis-
tance on campus. While distributing pamphlets from the Rape Educa-
tion Project in his dorm, men typically asked "Oh, are you going to teach
us how to rape?" In another group, every member wrote about an inci-
dent that showed them firsthand the kind of chiding directed at male
students who took feminist classes. While they met at an outdoor eating
area, a student described by one woman as "a domineering white male"
approached his buddy in the group. Learning what the small group was
doing, the outsider "started to tease" his friend, "hollering disbelief."
After one woman accused the intruder of sexism, the group had a forty-
five minute debate on the meaning of the attack, the usefulness of her
counterattack, and the way the incident clarified points about oppression
made during the unlearning racism workshop. 11
As might be expected, for men the experience of groups tended to be
more intellectual than personal. One man wrote that he "felt somewhat
alienated" in group because he didn't share the experience of gender with
others. Another felt at the first meeting that the issues "did not always
seem to affect me directly"; but at a later session, discussions of the read-
ings on the politics of housework engaged him quite personally. 12 By the
third meeting he "spoke at length" of the struggle to create an "equali-
tarian" relationship in living with a woman. At least one man, already
aware of being a member of a "targeted" racial group, now saw how gen-
der affected women daily. "I've come to realize what kind of stuff women
have to go through," he wrote, "and more importantly, how gender af-
fects me."
In addition to feeling conflicted about enrolling in the class, reading
about issues such as rape, racism, sexual identity, body types, and stan-
dards of beauty proved disturbing to many students. Other instructors
had warned me that heightening student consciousness of discrimina-
tion and sexual vulnerability often creates emotional stress in women's
studies classrooms. The students echoed this theme in their papers. "We
124 PEDAGOGICAL PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

all agreed that [by the] third meeting the class had changed our lives in a
profound way; we now felt surrounded by sexism." Or, as another student
explained, "the material in this class was overwhelming, which made it
particularly i1nportant to have a place to express reactions to it as we
went along."
Anger was a primary reaction to the readings but one that evoked deep
conflict, especially for women. At the beginning of the course, many
students stereotyped feminists as "angry" and feared being so-labelled.
The small groups functioned to legitimize anger and make it less over-
whelming. "Our first group meeting can be summed up in one word:
ANGER," a student recalled. "Unfortunately," she continued:

most of us felt defensive when speaking about feminism, as if we needed to

prove something to men, but could not channel the anger into well articu-
lated arguments .... We hoped that this class and our upcoming small group
meetings would help articulate our thoughts, explain why we were angry, and
how we could feel "offensive" by presenting a clear definition of feminism
and its goals.

Even a student who was more reluctant to identify as a feminist shared

similar feelings: "Being able to air my feelings and hear the impressions
of the other women in the group helped me to resolve some of the anger
that I formed while reading the materials on violence against women."
Another student recalled thinking that "At last, here were some people
who I could talk to about those things that make me angry that no one
see1ns to understand. I felt somewhat empowered." Speaking about the
experiences of the past week "was good for me," a minority woman
wrote, because "I found that I had a lot of unvented anger that I could let
loose at these meetings." One group applied the reading of Virginia
Woolf's Three Guineas to the problem of anger. Because Woolf "encour-
aged people to understand the background people are coming from," a
student wrote, she talked of her father's traditional upbringing. "The
group discussion," she concluded, "helped bring out that I should be an-
gry at the socialization structure that my father grew up in, not merely
at my father hi1nself. 1113
Finding the support for taking the course and for processing both the
knowledge of sexism and the anger it evoked made meetings· valuable
and a source of growth. As one student explained, "As a result of the sup-
port I received during the meetings, I quickly began to look forward to
them. If I were religious I 1night say that the 1neetings were a bit like go-
ing to church, in that I felt stronger, more self-loving, and more confident
after leaving." The sole man in another group wrote that he had "the
courage to persevere in my studies because I had a support group. I had
the drive to share so that I could see reflections of myself in others, even
if the reflections had the faces of a different gender." Drawing on Bernice
 SMALL GROUP PEDAGOGY 125

Johnson Reagen's ideas in "Coalition Politics," one student described the

small groups as "the 'room' that we all went back to in order to discuss
strategies on how to change the world." 14 The ability to feel safe, relaxed,
and candid, was due "no doubt," one student suggested, "to the absence
of a TA or other authority figure."
For some students, feeling empowered to speak, learning to listen, and
growing more confident were not ends in themselves. Members of sev-
eral groups reported a new comfort with carrying their feminism outside
of the classroom. All of the students in one group discovered that they
had become known as the "dorm feminist" in their residences. One
t woman "decided to confront some people on my floor who were con-
stantly making sexist remarks ... and I probably would never have done
it had we not had the discussion in our small group." Three members of
another group decided to take a women's self-defense course together. A
resident assistant distributed questionnaires from the women's center to
the frosh in her dorm and asked her group for affirmation that she was
helping the cause. At least one woman planned to be "challenging my
parents on a lot of things I never thought about before." In contrast, one
student felt relieved simply to meet: "I used to wonder why I was not
planning or participating in demonstrations, but have realized that I am
comfortable listening to other people and sharing with other people on a
personal level. Both aspects are necessary and I don't believe one to be
more valuable than another."
Activism brought its own lessons about feminis1n. Well into the quar-
ter, one group of five white women devoted a meeting to writing a collec-
tive letter to the student newspaper to criticize "examples of sexist hu-
mor and negative depictions of wo1nen" in a recent campus production.
The effort brought out group differences that surprised them. As they
struggled "to transform our anger into a well-articulated argument," the
group learned firsthand the difficulties of feminist process and politics.
They debated language and strategies, and they discovered their li1nits
when some members were reluctant to sign the letter. "Many of us," one
member explained, "although willing to speak up in a small group, still
feared taking a 'feminist' stance and being labelled a 'feminist.'" The
group never produced a letter "that satisfied us all" and at least one
member left discouraged. Another woman felt, however, that the "exer-
cise was still an important one" because the group had collectively ar-
ticulated its feelings, which, she believed, was more important than
publishing a letter. "From the standpoint of political consciousness-
raising," a member began her evaluation paper, "we may not have been
very effective, but the group was invaluable as a place to laugh and sound
off without having to justify our feminist point of view." Although the
letter was never sent, she wrote, "it was a wonderful, and sometimes
tense, exercise in coalition-building."
126 PEDAGOGI C A L PRACTI C ES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

" . "
Reflecting the feminist politics of the 1980s, when women of color moved
feminism from its white, middle-class focus to a more inclusive political
worldview, FSl0l attempted to emphasize the intersections of race and
gender inequality. Along with the readings on race and feminism, the
unlearning racis.m workshop and campus incidents made race and rac-
ism highly charged topics within the class. Small groups offered a poten-
tial space for understanding racial difference and patterns of domination.
The demographic composition of the groups, however, strongly influenced
the tone and depth of their discussions of race. Because three-quarters of
the students were white, minorities were either absent or rare in small
groups. Predictably, all-white groups had the least insightful discussions;
highly unbalanced groups placed the burden of education on the single
1ninority student; and highly mixed groups had the most valuable sessions
on race.
The all-white groups tended to focus on the shared experiences of
women and on nonracial differences between members. A man in one of
these groups regretted its racial co1nposition. Although he enjoyed the
comfort and intimacy of his group, he realized that it felt more like a
11

womb than a coalition," in the terms of Reagan's article. Had the group
been more diverse, he felt, 1ne1nbers would have been forced to deal with
differences in other ways. Often, these groups sought ways to resolve
their discomfort over white privilege, with some interesting results. For
instance, one white student used the concept of 11silnultaneous oppres-
sion" in her own way. Rather than referring to the multiple and simulta-
neous oppression of women of color (by gender, class, and race), she took
the term to mean that white women were both oppressed and oppressors.
With this interpretation, she identified through her gender with subordi-
nate groups, while she accepted responsibility for her position of racial
dominance.
For both mixed and all-white groups, the themes of white guilt and
feelings of helplessness recurred in the papers. 15 White students in a
mixed group felt immobilized by the realization, as one wrote, that 11at
one time in our lives we are all the oppressor. 11 "Our group teeters on the
brink of an intellectual abyss, 11 she wrote of the unsatisfactory conclu-
sion. "We say n ice things to each other and depart." Or as the one black
member of the group put it, the white women "all admitted to feeling
guilty for being white.11 As another white member acknowledged, recog-
nizing difference within feminism 11was really very eye-opening and
made some of us feel as though we had been pretty spoiled and blind."
Silnilarly, a white woman in another group commented after listening to
a Chicana describe the dual effects of racism and sexism: 11 It was hard for
the white people in our group to accept that we would never be able to
truly identify with the minority women's experience."
 SMALL GROUP PEDAGOGY 127

The racial imbalance in mixed groups placed a special burden of ex-

planation on black, Asian-American, and Chicana members. "It seemed
that [X] and I, who were the two people of color in our group," wrote one
man, "did most of the talking on the subject of racism." The woman to
whom he referred illustrated the educator role when the group discussed
Betty's Friedan's attitude toward housework. Other students, she ex-
plained, "felt sorry for housewives," but since her own mother had been
on welfare and then struggled in a service job, she longed for "my mom
to be a housewife and to live in a house like the 'Brady Bunch.'" The man
in the group shared with her "the alienation minority children feel when
" they are taught by the media to value a white, middle-class lifestyle over
their own."
Other women of color reported the frustrations they felt when placed
in the role of racial educators. When the four white women in one group
"all looked to" the one black member to discuss race, "she turned the
question around" by asking her classmates if "we would all have the
same response given our similar whiteness." In another group a woman
of color learned that her white classmates were surprised when she spoke
of the inter nalized racism that leads to straightened hair and plastic sur-
gery among minorities. "Although it hurts to have these things go un-
noticed," she reflected, "I was encouraged by their acknowledging that
when you have a prevalence of white, blond, blue-eyed skinny models,
dolls, and characters in story books, these facts should not be shocking."
Similarly, a Chicana resented "the duty of minorities to teach others,
and particularly their oppressors"; however, at the same time she "valued
this opportunity to enlighten people who were truly interested and re-
gretful of their own ignorance." Some racial educators changed their
views. At first, for example, a campus activist found that the burden of
educating others made her resistant to meetings and "impatient" be-
cause she had ''already dealt with" many of the issues that white women
were "struggling to understand." By the last two sessions, however, she
felt that her attitude had shifted from feeling "condescension" to valuing
the discussions "not just for other women in the group, but for myself as
well." An initial confidence in her superior knowledge about race gave
way to a realization that she, too, needed a place "to process the things
that we were reading" in ways that discussion section did not allow.
The most successful discussions of race-that is, the ones that elicited
deep responses, as well as conflicts-occurred in the most diverse groups.
A group with two 1ninority women, two white women, and one white
man achieved a degree of safety in discussing difference and racism. As
the Chicana member wrote, the group "seemed to me to be a microcosm
of the feminist movement- where people work for many of the same
goals for differing reasons." Having made her "'foreign' experiences and
ideas accessible to people through small group," she now felt ready to
128 PEDAGOGICAL PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

"move to this next stage of a potentially more hostile environment" in

the world at large.
Another diverse group illustrated the different perceptions of white
and minority students. After discussing readings about the cycle of pov-
erty in which many black 1nothers are caught, a white upper-class woman
expressed both dismay and a potential role for herself:
To say that racism and poverty is disturbing will never explain the empty
feeling in my stomach as the discussion progressed. However, I realized at
least my stomach was full. This discussion reminded me that since I was
blessed with educational opportunities and economic resources it is my duty
to ensure others have the same.

Despite this student's attempt to identify with the poor, her attitude
left one of the minority women in her group feeling "peeved" and fearful
that another woman of color "was about to cry, and so was I, a little."
The problem, she explained, was that the privileged students "sound like
such do-gooders, as if racism and prejudice don't really affect them-as if
racism were some immoral practice which must be abolished." The as-
sumption that whites could "take themselves out of the arena of racism"
struck her as "superior and condescendi ng/' and as a betrayal of the com-
mon bond of feminism. Racism, she implied, is everyone's problemi the
good intentions for uplift expressed by some white students alienated
minority students in her group.
These episodes reflected the dilemmas of mixed groups. On the one
hand, these groups did most to educate white students and sometimes
helped alleviate their guilt. In the process, they risked relying on stu-
dents of color as racial educators who explained differences among
women, rather than addressing the deep personal and structural barriers
to race equality. On the other hand, the few minority students in these
groups learned a great deal about white attitudes toward race and how
these attitudes affect them personally. Given the race and class stratifi-
cation of our society, students of color will no doubt confront these views
throughout their lives; small groups can serve as testing grounds for
clarifying their responses. Overall, the racially mixed groups ·worked at
identifying the dilemmas of difference better than the all-white groups;
but they would have been even more effective if they had a greater pro-
portion of students of color. That way the minority students would feel
less isolated and less targeted as racial educators. At a more racially
mixed campus, or in a course with greater minority enrollment, groups
could go even further in raising consciousness about racism. In this set-
ting, mixed groups can go only so far toward exploring the relationship
between gender and racial inequality.
* • "
SMALL GROUP PEDAGOGY 129

Whatever progress the lesbian and gay movement has made since the
1970s, for most Stanford students, lesbianism remains a frightening
topic. In signing up for FSl0l, a woman student risked being labelled, in
the words of one, as "the feminist dyke." Or, as another woman told her
group, she "felt funny because people who knew she was taking the class
would think of her as a lesbian." The association of feminism with lesbi-
anism ran deep among students who brought to the class strong preju-
dices about homosexuality. Several expressed their religious opposition
to gay sex, or, in response to viewing the film "Choosing Children," to
lesbians or gay 1nen raising children. Even liberal students wanted to
distance themselves fro1n homosexuality by defending feminists against
the label of lesbianism.
Not surprisingly, the coming out letter challenged the class enormously
and proved to be "harder than we had thought." Everyone expressed dis-
co1nfort about doing the assignment. Students who had thought they
were tolerant of lesbians and gay men found themselves hiding the as-
signment from roommates; some wrote 11 'Fem-Stud Assignment' across
the top in big letters," in case friends passed by as they wrote. In the
words of one student, we "were continually worried that somebody was
going to look over our shoulder and misinterpret what we had written."
The small group following the letter writing assignment was, for
many, "by far the most tense of the quarter." One of the most highly po-
litical groups seemed to spend little time discussing the letters. One
member was reportedly "speechless" and "couldn't imagine how others
managed to do it." Another woman became "very depressed" writing
hers, and for telling reasons: "I knew my parents would go off on another
fit, and that once again I had to face the fact that their love and financial
support is conditional." Fear of parental disapproval loomed large in the
discussions and helps explain the tone of so many of the letters, well
summarized by a freshman who wrote critically that several members of
his group had made "a total emotional plea to their parents telling them
of their misfortune and asking for acceptance." The members of another
group "all agreed that it took a while to finally get around to actually
saying 'I am lesbian' - a term that many letters avoided altogether.
11

However difficult, the exercise, and especially the group discussion of

it, brought home the depth and the costs of homophobia. "If we feared so
much that someone 1night find our letter, did that indicate that we were
homophobic?" The discussion of the letters led another group to realize
that "by denying our feelings of homophobia, we were only perpetuating
them." It also helped to undermine homophobic responses. During the
discussion of hiding the assignment, for example, one woman "gradually
realized that my fear of being stereotyped wrongly had greatly dimin-
ished since the beginning of the course."
130 PEDAGOG I CAL PRAC T IC ES IN T HE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

For other students, the assignment brought homosexual feelings to

the surface. The group discussion forced one man to "think about my
own homophobic fears-did I harbor those feelings because being homo-
sexual is not being a man?" Another group asked the question "Have you
ever thought about being homosexual?" which produced "some defensive
reactions." At least one woman admitted to the thought but found that
she could not "envision a sexual relationship" with another woman. In
response to the question, another woman contemplated her unsatisfac-
tory relationships with men and ,-vondered if she might be lesbian. At
that point, she recalled:
Two of the other members looked like they thought I was going to co1ne out
right then and there and didn't know what to do, and the other member
looked grateful that I had responded to her question honestly, and did seem to
sincerely understand my confusion at the time.
The speaker found it a "rewarding moment" because she was not ostra-
cized for her honesty or her suspicions about her sexuality.
If the coming out assignment created the most tension, it also seemed
to have had the most consciousness-raising effect. In one group, a woman
who had recently "stopped identifying ... as heterosexual" rated this
session as the "best meeting" because it "produced the 1nost conscious-
ness raising." Other members (a straight man and two straight women)
agreed that it was the "most rewarding," in part because the letter gave a
"concrete experience" about which to relate feelings and "a bonding ex-
perience" for students who struggled with the assignment. In several
groups, attitudes towards coming out seemed to have changed for many
students. One group member "concluded that many more people would
come out if there weren't such a stigma in society. We admired those
who are strong enough to."
Only two students came out in their groups. In one case, a gay man
was relieved to find that he was "among pretty gay-sensitive people." The
group later turned to him to tell them what was and what was not "of-
fensive" in their behaviors and whether their fear of having their coming
out letters seen constituted homophobia. Accepting the educator role, he
both criticized and reassured his peers. "We all sort of agreed," he wrote,
"that this was another form of homophobia but acknowledged too, that
individuals are forced to make choices under duress in a deeply ho-
mophobic society." In another group, a. woman catalogued the responses
when she "told the group that I am a lesbian":
Unfortunately, the person who I expected to have a negative reaction had to
go to a funeral ... One seemed unitnpressed .. . one asked me what lesbians
looked like, was obviously uncomfortable, but made a very noble attempt to
pretend that she wasn't, and the other felt very cornfortable and proceeded to
ask me lots of questions.
 SMALL GROUP PEDAGOGY 131

The discussion shifted when this same student also revealed that she
was an incest survivor and explained that she was not alone among Stan-
ford students. Group members, she reported, "were more shocked by this
than the lesbianism, and had a hard time dealing with it .... As for my-
self, I didn't think I could deal with talking about either subject without
being honest about it. I also felt I owed to other lesbians and to other in-
cest survivors to speak out." In the small group setting, she was able to
do so.
Just as all-white groups had more superficial discussions of race, the
,. overwhelmingly heterosexual groups often began with the question of
homosexuality but soon moved to the general topic of sexuality and rela-
tionships. In two of the women-only groups, the coming out discussion
turned to comparable fears of rejection or exposure among straight peo-
ple. "Just as gay people are expected to be ashamed of their sexuality, fat
women are supposed to view their weight as a transitory state," ex-
plained one student. Another group moved from discussing lesbians' fear
of rejection by their families to memories of their own childhood rejec-
tions by other girls and the lasting fear of being different. The parallels
gave them insight into homophobia in the absence of firsthand accounts
from lesbian or gay male students.
I was surprised by how few lesbian and gay male students either took
this class or came out in it; fear of disclosure by association with femi-
nism may have kept them away or in the closet. Nonetheless, the pre-
dominantly straight groups learned more about homophobia than they
had expected, in large part due to the letter writing assignment. Despite
their resistance, once students tried on a homosexual identity, they had
at least a glimpse of the firsthand experience that was missing in most
groups. Forced to identify with the sexual n1inority, students seemed to
confront their homophobia more personally, and with less guilt, than
they confronted their racism. Thus, although the presence of minority
students within groups did not necessarily raise consciousness dra1nati-
cally, an assignment that encouraged personal identification with minor-
ity vulnerability had strong potential to do so.

During the first lecture of the quarter, before I distributed the syllabus, I
had asked each student to write a paragraph or two about how they de-
fined and reacted to the term "feminist." The overwhelming majority of
the class described the goals of liberal feminism positively, but they found
the label "feminist" too frightening to adopt for themselves. At the begin-
ning of the small groups, students addressed these feelings. "All of us ste-
reotype a feminist negatively," one black woman explained, "that is, as a
militant person." Or, as one student summarized the reaction to femi-
nists voiced by each member of her small group: they "hated men," "did
not want to appear attractive," and "were radical and rebellious."
132 PEDAGOGICAL PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

In analyzing their prejudices in class discussion, many students cred-

ited the media with shaping their i1nage of angry, militant feminists. I
would add that Stanford's student culture not only emphasizes the im-
portance of being attractive to the opposite sex but also encourages con-
formity to a model of self-satisfaction !the "no one has problems at Stan-
ford" syndrome, as a counselling center flier labels it). In this atmosphere,
political rebelliousness-especially when it addresses personal issues
rather than, say, U.S. foreign policy-can be dismissed as a sign of per-
sonal failure.
FSl0l challenged stereotypes by exposing students to a variety of
feminist ideas and strategies and by stressing the political nature of the
personal. Lectures on the history of feminism and readings in Feminist
Frameworks explored the diversity of liberal, radical, and socialist femi-
nist politics and the issues raised by women of color and 1nen in the
movement. Reading Virginia Woolf!s Three Guineas early in the course
provided a context for relating discrimination against women to tradi-
tional political concerns, such as war and peace. Johnetta Cole's All
American Women further emphasized the ways that feminism spoke to
the concerns of a variety of wo1nen. These readings and the lectures no
doubt contributed to student reevaluations of feminism. It is also possi-
ble that exposure to the diversity of their instructors helped some stu-
dents identify as feminists, for we (myself and two graduate teaching
assistants) represented female and 1nale1 black and white, and gay and
straight.
Despite these classroom influences, I sensed from the student papers
that the small groups were perhaps the most critical element in the pro-
cess of unlearning earlier stereotypes. I used to think that all feminists
11

were either lesbians or militant man-hating women," wrote an Asian-

American woman. "After taking this class, I am proud to say that I am a
feminist and I also do not hesitate to inform others of my feminist views
and beliefs." Similarly, another woman confessed that 11 Fm quite sure
that I wrote one of the least flattering definitions of and reactions to
feminism at the beginning of the quarter," and that she 11would certainly
never have said that I was a feminist. 1 ' During the course she had adopted
a definition of feminism that 1nade her able to identify with the term: 11a
feminist recognizes differences between men and women, but does not
always value either male or female attributes and qualities more than the
other." She concluded her paper by embracing a new identity: "Now all I
have to do to know how I respond to the word feminist is to look in the
mirror and see someone whom I respect and like very much." One male
student shifted from 11a negative gut reaction11 to a positive one; 11 1 now
consider myself a feminist, which I hadn't even considered before the
class." Or, as another man reported, "for the first time, I openly consider
myself a feminist-with pride. 11
 SMALL GROUP PEDAGOGY 133

The disappearance of defensive reactions to feminism recurred as a

final theme in the small group papers. "Now I really consider myself a
feminist, it has become a part of who I am. I am not defensive about it.
The word has lost its negative connotations," wrote one wo1nan. In an-
other group a feminist studies major explained that "Novv more than
ever, when I hear or see the word 'feminist' I feel proud. Most of 1ny de-
fensive reactions are entirely gone and I feel positive and connected with
the title and its 1neaning to me." Yet another student felt that she "no
longer need[ed] to back away from this name or label. I no longer need to
put it in quotes." More rare was the commitment to advocating femi-
,, nism in public, such as the student who declared fe1ninist studies as her
1najor and felt "very relieved that I have exorcised most of 1ny fears about
defending [feminis1n] publicly."
The final paragraph of a paper typically spoke of pride and even joy in
the student's transformation into a fe1ninist:

When I see the word "feminist," I feel like celebrating and crying at the sa1ne
time. I feel a sadness because I know that many people will react to it nega-
tively ... I also respond with a feeling of happiness because I know that
through education, the incredible ideas of femini sm have and will break
through the negative stereotype
Now, when I see or hear the word fe1ninist I invariably respond positively.
I feel a bond with the person it is directed toward, and proudly feel a renewed
women-centered identity.
When I hear the word fe1nini st, I think: this is a person I want to get to know.
To be sure, when I see or hear the word fe1ninist, I respond with a proud,
warm, connective feeling. I 1nyself am a feminist and it's nice to know that I
have sisters and brothers who are the same.

Students from several groups echoed this last student's historical insight:
"I now understand why feminist consciousness-raising groups in the
1970s were so effective in generating wo1nen's energies."
While most students claimed a greater willingness, to identify as femi-
nists, to themselves or to others, and a 1nore complex definition of femi-
nist constituencies and goals, others addressed the li1nits of their politics.
Unlike the generation that initially adopted consciousness-raisi ng in
an era when radicalism was fashionable, today's students shy away from
any taint of political rebelliousness. "Even after having taken this class,"
a woman wrote, "I have yet to conquer my enduring uneasiness with
the word 'feminist.' ... I do still feel a deep and vague discomfort with the
word ... and continue to have difficulty saying 'I arn a feminist'" because
of the connotation of "radicalism, rebelling, and a touch of 'man-hating'
that I am not yet able to accept or overco1ne."
In a different way, other students expressed how, by the end of the
course, they had become acutely aware of their political limitations. As
134 PEDAGOGICAL PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

one woman of color reported of her group: "Each of us were entrenched in

our inner conflict about our own capitalistic desires and urges." The
most frequent conflict women addressed concerned standards of beauty.
"We agreed that since taking this class we have often felt like complete
hypocrites as we put on our makeup," one white woman revealed of her
group. "I grapple with my difficulty of redefining beauty," wrote a.nother
woman, "perhaps I need to accept my silly definitions of beauty as dic-
tated by the society I live in." The challenge of differentiating between
the messages of the culture and their own beliefs confounded this wom-
an's group, as it did other feminists of the 1980s. The free classroom cop-
ies of Ms. magazine drove home the point-today's political feminism
came packaged with contradictory messages extolling traditional femi-
ninity and consumer capitalism.

Whatever the limitations of student political consciousness, this experi-

ment in the use of small group, personally based learning proved even
more rewarding than I had anticipated. I agreed with the student who
wrote that while she "expected these consciousness-raising sessions to
change each of us, the rate and degree to which it occurred surprised and
inspired me. Small groups had clearly played an important role in allow-
11

ing internal, emotional shifts to occur gradually in students who had been
resistant to feminism. Although the purpose of the groups was to enhance
classroom learning and not necessarily to achieve political conversion, the
two seemed to happen simultaneously. The intellectual challenge of read-
ings, discussions, and papers certainly contributed to the process, but
consciousness-raising provided something that traditional academic work
could not: a safe space for discussing personal difference and connecting
these differences to gender inequality. Given the complexity of feminist
identity that emerged in the 1980s, as well as the negative stereotypes of
feminists that persist among students, consciousness-raising offers a unique
method for learning the very things feminism espouses.
Finally, in addition to emphasizing the importance of consciousness-
raising as a form of pedagogy and urging its adoption in other classes, I
want to credit the students in this course with making consciousness-
raising work. Those who were willing simply to enroll in FSlOl at a cam-
pus that was generally hostile to feminism had to be exceptiQnal stu-
dents. Revealing their own fears of feminism, their anger and guilt about
racism, and their discomfort with homosexuality took courage and en-
tailed risks. The requirement of attending consciousness-raising groups
may have motivated change, but the students themselves made possible
the personal and political growth that their papers document. For a femi-
nist teacher, their learning has been an inspiration and a source of faith
that feminism will survive, even in these conservative times.
SMALL GROUP PEDAGOGY 135

Acknowledgments
In planning this course, I benefited especially from the experience of my col-
league Jane Collier {Anthropology), who had previously taught FSl0l, and from
1ny two graduate teaching assistants, Lisa Hogeland (Modern Thought and Lit·
eraturej and Kevin Mumford /History). I thank them, along with the following
other 1nembers of the feminist community at Stanford, for their responses to
this paper: Laura Carstensen, John Dupre, Mary Felstiner, Regenia Gagnier, Pa-
tricia Gumport, Margo Horn, Susan Krieger, Diane Middlebrook, Adrienne Rich,
Alice Supton, and Sylvia Yanagisako.

Notes
l. Two experiences outside my own classroom influenced 1ny use of
consciousness-raising in FSl0l. I learned a great deal from sociologist Susan
Krieger's example when she successfully incorporated small groups in a
class of conservative prebusiness students. Her students wrote self-refl ective
papers about small group dynamics, rooted in personal experience. If such
groups could work with these students, the groups seemed to have great po-
tential for feminist studies. Another model was an unlearning racism work-
shop I had attended at the Stanford wo,nen's center some years ea rlier, facili-
tated by the late Ricky Sherover-Marcuse. In order to require such a workshop
of all FSl0l students, the feminist studies progran1 hired an experienced fa-
cilitator to conduct workshops for members of this class.

2. Of the sixty-six students who took this course for credit (no t counting audi-
tors), 74 percent were white and 26 percent black, Asian, or Chicana. Men
constituted 17 percent of the entire class, 12 percent of minorities and 18
percent of whites. Students tended to ident ify themselves in terms of race
and gender. Similarly, in this paper I refer to students by gender and race,
unless a student has indicated another identity.

3. On earlier resistance to the use of consciousness-raising by wotnen's studies

faculty, and for a review of the theoretical basis for consciousness-raising in
the classroom, see Renate D. Klein, "The Dynamics of the Women's Studies
Classroom: A Review Essay of the Teaching Practice of Women's Studies in
Higher Education," Wom en's Studies Interna tional Forum 10, no. 2 (1987):
esp. 189-93.

4. I assigned the following readings: Johnetta Cole, ed., All American Women:
Lines that Divide, Ties that Bind (New York: Free Press, 1986); E1nily Honig
and Gail Hershatter, eds., Personal Voices: Chinese Women in the 1980s
/Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1988); Buchi Emecheta, The Joys of
Motherhood (New York: George Braziller, 1979); Virginia Woolf, Three
Guineas /1938; reprint, New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1963); Marge Piercy,
136 PEDAGOGICAL PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

Woman on the Edge of Time (New York: Fawcett Crest, 1976); Alison Jaggar
and Paula Rothenberg, eds., Feminist Frameworks: Alternative Theoretical
Accounts of the Relations between Women and Men (New York: McGraw-
Hill, 1984); and a thick course reader.

5. Pamela Allen, "Free Space," in Radical Feminism, ed. Anne Koedt, Ellen
Levine and Anita Rapone (New York: Quadrangle, 1973), 271-79; Irene Pesli-
kis, "Resistances to Consciousness." In Sisterhood is Powerful, ed. Robin
Morgan (New York: Vintage Books, 1970), 379-81.

6. In this three-hour workshop, an experienced facilitator helped students to

explore their personal class, race, and ethnic backgrounds and to dispel un-
conscious stereotypes about various groups. The workshop attempted to af-
firm the value of difference, address the costs of discrimination, and create
a nonjudgmental space for students to acknowledge the racial fears and mis-
information they had acquired in the past. Ideally the students should at-
tend a series of workshops, but because of time and budget limitations, the
small group meeting served as a follow up to reinforce the workshop.

7. Despite my effort to make the group meetings required, several papers com-
plained of members who appeared irregularly, because it seemed "almost
like a luxury-and when it comes to a clash between 'real' classwork . . .
and therapeutic classwork, it's hard to break the Stanford mold and take the
ungraded activity seriously." Evaluation papers suggested that attendance
would improve if I scheduled group meeting times rather than leaving it to
students. They also complained about the rigid format I outlined and con-
vinced me that in the future the groups could determine their own process
and discussion topics. After the second year of teaching this course with
consciousness-raising groups, I have decided that it is essential to structure
the meeting times into the course schedule in advance. Doing so would be
especially important for nonresidential schools, where it is even more diffi-
cult for students to find informal meeting times and places.

8. John D'Emilio constructed this exercise at the University of North Carolina-

Greensboro, and it has been used by several other faculty members around
the country. Several students discussed their letters with parents. One of my
favorite responses was from the mother of a straight son; the son called to
say he was writing a coming out letter to her, "hypothetically real" and
wondered what she would say if he sent it. Her reply: "The same thing I said
when you went to college: always use a condom." I am grateful to such
mothers for sending their daughters and sons to my classes.

9. After the lecture, which did discuss the problem of incest, two other incest
survivors identified themselves to me privately, and one suggested readings
for the next year. From this experience I learned about the importance of
making sensitive topics visible on the syllabus in advance and not only in
the lecture class.
SMALL GROUP PEDAGOG Y 137

10. In quoting from the student papers, I have corrected typographical errors but
have left grammar and punctuation intact. Students did sign the papers, so
they 1nay have had an interest in presenting a positive evaluation of the
groups in order to please the instructor. The papers, however, did not affect
grades, and many students offered criticisn1s about the structure or timing
of groups, alongside their reflections on how groups influenced them.

11. To n1y surprise, coining from the sepa ratism of the 1970s, 1nixed-gender
groups evoked no protest and in fact satisfied almost all students. One all
women's group did report a special openness, and members tended to dis-
cuss childhood memories and sexuality more freely. But members of other
all-fe1nale groups said they missed a male perspective." In 1nixed gender
11

groups, no wo1nen complained of male do1ninance and 1nany expressed

gratitude for the "male insight." Their comments 1nay have been due to the
respectful attitude of the men in the class, as well as to women's often ex-
pressed fears of being labelled 1nan-haters.

12. These readings included: Pat Mainardi, /IThe Politics of Housework." In

Feminist Frameworks; excerpts from Lenore Weitzman, The Marriage Con-
tract (New York: Free Press, 1983); and interviews with domestic workers in
Cole, All American Wom en .

13. Another student wrote that when she described her father to the group, she
understood why she couldn't get angry: " I realized that as a child, it see1ned
to me that my fath er was constantly yelling. He scared 1ne most of the time
with his anger, and for this reason, I think that 1 express my anger quietly
and in a somewhat controlled fashion ." She did not elaborate on whether she
wished to change this behavior, but she felt that the insight was an impor-
11

tant step toward an understanding of n1yself. 11

14. Bernice Johnson Reagon, Coalition Politics: Turning the Century." In Home
11

Girls: A Black Feminist An thology, ed. Barbara Sn1ith (New York: Kitchen
Table Press, 1983), 356-68.

15. For example, a white woman who missed the m eeting on race in her mixed
group wrote: ! suppose I could have talked about the white guilt everyone
11

tells me is not healthy to have but that I have anyway. I just don't under-
stand why I can go to Stanford while other people are starving."
CHAPTER EIGHT

Bringing Different Voices into the Classroom

JULIA T. WOOD

In illuminating the patterns of women's moral thinking, Carol Gilli-

gan's In a Different Voice (1982) redressed conventional moral theory's
long-standing disregard of women's experiences and ethical stances .. Ar-
guing that traditional moral theory ignored women, Gilligan demon-
strated that women's moral reasoning is distorted systematically when it
is interpreted within a framework that embodies a predominantly male
perspective. In a Different Voice advances a model of women's morality
centered on sustaining relationships and responding caringly to others. 1
In addition to generating substantial research, Gilligan's ideas funda-
mentally altered our understanding of women and their ways of thinking,
valuing, and experiencing. By now a significant body of work informed by
multiple disciplines and methodologies documents two discrete paths by
which identity and conceptions of morality evolve. Growing out of these
are distinctive, gender-associated senses of sel( interpersonal stances,
and orientations toward others and moral choices. In addition to the two
moral voices Gilligan recognizes, others may exist. 2
As feminist scholars reflected on Gilligan's work, its pertinence to a
number of teaching interests became clear. Incorporating her material
into courses, however, has sometimes been difficult. It is one thing to
describe distinct moralities in ways students understand and quite an-
other to enhance affective appreciation of different voices. Yet, as Audre
Lorde (1984) reminds us, only when teaching involves hearts as well as
minds, emot ions as well as thinking, can it inspire engaged living. Other
voices in behalf of this perspective such as Estelle Disch and Becky
Thompson and bell hooks insist teaching should involve students' needs
and feelings as well as their intellects.
Last year in my women's studies course Gender and Communication,
I serendipitously discovered a way to involve students vitally and person-
ally in understanding and valuing distinctive moral voices. In this chap-
ter I describe this discovery and explain how it led me to develop a unit
that aims to encourage all students, male and female, to understand and
appreciate different moral perspectives. Because the classroom incident
that occurred reveals key issues of content and pedagogical process, I re-
count it in some detail. From this example, I derive intellectual and per-
sonal values that inhere in teaching designed to enhance awareness of
distinctly valid moral voices.

Originally published in the Spring 1993 issue of the NWSA Journal.

BRINGING DIFFERENT VOI C ES INTO THE CLASSROOM 139

My course focuses on myriad ways and contexts in which co1nmunica-

tion recurrently creates and re-creates gender ideals. Unlike most courses
in women's studies, this class typically enrolls about 10 to 20 percent men
and roughly the same proportion of minority students; and, as one might
expect, the views and voices of the male minority threaten to do1ninate
classroom discussion . As Amy Shapiro has pointed out, "Because of his
positioning in our culture, the man often sets the tone and conveys the
agenda" (1991, 70), an issue earlier recognized by Treichler and Kramarae.
When this occurs in a classroom, the learning environment itself can
become another arena of oppression for women instead of achieving its
goal of liberating and enabling all individuals.
This chapter has been prompted by an occasion when male students
attempted to define the agenda in a class, but responses from women stu-
dents thwarted their attempt and transformed the classroom into a labo-
ratory for personal discovery and expansion. At the midpoint of the course
in the fall semester of 1990, we were discussing gender and personal rela-
tionships as part of a unit that typically includes attention to gender-
differentiated roles, expectations, and bases of satisfaction. "Myra," who
was completing her senior requirem ents, volunteered her experience. She
told the class that her widowed father had recently suffered a heart at-
tack and could no longer live alone. He had asked her to forgo graduate
school in order to move ho1ne and care for him. Relating this to class top -
ics, Myra explained that since he clearly needed her, she had decided she
should do what he asked. At the same time, she disclosed that she re-
sented being pulled away from her own goals and felt guilty and selfish
for feeling resentful.
Almost before she had concluded her comments, a male student, "Joe,"
asserted, "He has no right to expect that of you." And another, "Bill,"
reinforced this judgment by adding "You have your own life to lead, and
it's not fair for his problems to interfere with that." Myra looked 1nysti-
fied, but offered no further comment: She had been silenced and seemed
now to be doubting the integrity of her own views. This was not surpris-
ing since the whole weight of our culture-as well as accepted theories
of moral reasoning-lay behind the male students' comments. 3
At the time, my initial inclination was to intervene in support of her
choice and gently to rebuke Bill and Joe for presuming superior knowl-
edge and the prerogative to offer advice. Before I could arrange my re-
sponse, however, an adage in my field ca1ne to mind: " I know you think
you understand what I said, but what you thought you heard is not what
I 1neant. 11 This led me to a different response, one that relied less on 1ny
role as an authority ,-vho directs classroo1n content and more on my role
as a facilitator who enables students to discover their own "truths."
Explaining that there are often misunderstandings in communication,
I proposed an experiment to find out what each com1nunicator thought
140 PEDAGOGICAL PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

the other meant by her or his comments. Then I asked every student, not
just those who had spoken, to write out answers to three questions:
1. What did you hear Myra say? Explain what you understood her to
be thinking and feeling about her situation.
2. What did you hear Joe and Bill say? Explain what you understood
them to be thinking and feeling about this issue.
3. What do you think Myra wanted as a response to telling us about
the situation with her father?
The students' responses fairly consistently reflected patterns distin-
guishing male and female moral orientations along the lines indicated by
researchers in this area (see Belenky et al. 1986 and Gilligan et al. 1988).
Four of the five men and four of the women in the class thought that
Myra described a situation of conflicting rights: "She thinks !her father's]
rights supersede her own and she's willing to let his problems infringe on
her life." Twenty-one of the twenty-five women in the class along with
one man phrased Myra's predicament in terms of personal needs and re-
lational responsibilities: Myra felt her father's needs and wanted to re-
spond to them compassionately.
Students' interpretations of Joe and Bill's comments fell similarly in
line with gender generalizations about patterns in moral thinking. Four
of the men and four of the women "heard" Joe and Bill as being concerned
about Myra's rights in the situation and as thinking her father was out of
line in his request that she take care of him. Twenty-one of the women
and one man "heard" Bill and Joe as disregarding the father's needs and
ignoring the responsibilities of being involved in a family where 1nem-
bers are supposed to look out for each other.
In responding to the third question I had posed, a similar pattern
emerged. The majority of men and a minority of women thought Myra
wanted advicei they defined a constructive response as giving her counsel
on what she should do. Yet the majority of women and one 1nan thought
that Myra wanted someone to listen to and understand the conflict she
was experiencing between her personal goals and her desire to take care
of her father.
The next step in this experiment was my asking Myra to tell us what
she had written in response to the first question. This was heF,answer: "I
am feeling really torn about wanting to pursue my education' now and
needing to take care of my father. He is ill and scared and needs me now,
so I can't turn my back on him, but I'd really counted on starting my
graduate studies." I then asked her whether what she felt about the situa-
tion was addressed by the responses from the four men and four women
who heard her talking about rights. "No," she replied. "I don't see what
rights have to do with the situation. It's not a matter of rights. I don't
even think that applies to us."
BRING IN G DIFFERENT V O I C ES INTO T HE CLASS ROOM 141

Again, Bill and Joe assumed center stage by launching into justifica-
tions of their responses as both appropriate and correct. At this point,
however, I did intervene, asking them to withhold defense of their re-
sponses. I then introduced the class to the concept of different voices and
explained the distinctive natures of the voice of caring and the voice of
fairness. The voice of caring emphasizes the responsibilities people have
by virtue of their relationship with each other. From this perspective the
titular moral goal is to respond to others in caring ways. Conversely, I
pointed out, the voice of fairness assumes that what we "owe" to others
and are entitled to expect fro1n others depends on our rights and the
highest moral goal is to be fair in how we treat others by honoring their
rights while not violating our own.
Following my theoretical summary we entered into a discussion that
was to last three class periods. During this time I outlined differences
between the voices of caring and fairness (see table 1). Early responses
from students made it clear that many thought there was a better or right
voice that I simply wasn't revealing to them. This led 1ne to emphasize
repeatedly throughout our discussion that the voices are best understood
as distinct and that both represent valid ways of understanding oneself
as well as relationships with others. Using phrases like "different and
equal," "not co1nparative1 " and "equivalently valid," I stressed the inap-
propriateness of judging the two voices hierarchically.
An incident that occurred during the second day of our discussion
clarified the thesis of our evolving unit on different voices. One student,
after another unsuccessful effort to persuade me to reveal which voice
was "right," burst out in frustration with the challenge, "Well, if you're
not trying to teach us what is right and what we ought to do, then what
are we supposed to learn from all of this?" After several students offered
their perspectives (some of which echoed the speaker's frustration), I sug-
gested there were two purposes: understanding and respect.
Understanding I defined as being able to comprehend another person's
perspective even if it is different from your own-just to understand
without judging it. This purpose seemed most co1nprehensible to stu-
dents when I likened it to learning another language and being able to
translate from one language to the other. Respect I defined as recognizing
that a perspective other than your own can be legitimate, equal in valid-
ity to the way you view the world. Respect does not require personal ac-
ceptance of another's position, yet it goes beyond mere toleration. This
seemed to click best for students when I suggested that the kind of respect
we were talking about was analogous to admiring so1neone who does a
job well that you yourself couldn't or ,-vouldn't do. Whether or not we
want to do what the other does, we can still respect his or her abilities.
As students realized I really didn't have a "hidden right answer" and
that I was not judging any of the responses to Myra's comments as right
142 PEDAGOGICA L PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSRO O M

Table 1
Gender Differences in Developmental Patterns
Developmental Voice of Caring Voice of Fairness
Issue (usually women} (usually men}

Basis of Identity develops within relation- Identity develops by differentiat-

identity ships with others creating ing from others, creating rigid
permeable ego boundaries ego boundaries that keep
that allow others into self. others out.

Basic interper- Connections with others are Connections with others are not
sonal stance desired and enhance personal so desired and may threaten
security; separation feels personal security; indepen-
unsafe while interdependence dence feels safe.
feels fami liar and safe.

Orientation We have responsibilities that Others have some rights, which

toward others grow out of our relationships we should meet as long as they
with others and that we meet don't conflict with our own.
to sustain the connection and
ourself.

Moral prin- One should show care by One should be fair by impartially
ciples that responding compassionately to respecting others' rights.
guide others' needs.

Criteria for We have to understand each We should judge a situation,

deciding how person, relationship, and person, or relationship by
to respond situation on its own terms; generally accepted rules; to
what is caring in one case may base acts on each individual
be inappropriate in another case is ad hoc and too
context. Caring is personal relativistic to ensure fairness.
and individual.

or wrong, defensiveness was replaced by interest and genuine excitement

about learning. Students shifted from protecting their own positions to
being curious about other ways of perceiving situations. They engaged in
remarkably open dialogue with each other as they explore-d different
ways of understanding and responding to people and situatioi-is. There
were also moments in which the "Aha! experience" occurred, as when
one man exclaimed, "Finally, my girlfriend makes sense to me!" or when
a woman student told us "This is the first time anyone has described
how I think and relate to people and said what I do is okay. Now I can
finally explain the way I think to my father!"
By the third day of our discussion, we moved on to consider the last
question I had posed: what kind of response was Myra looking for when
 BRINGING DIFFERENT V O I C ES INTO THE CLASSROOM 143

she 1nade her com1nent? After I'd introduced this focus for discussion,
Joe volunteered that he now understood what had been "wrong" about
his response. He proceeded to explain quite eloquently that rights and
needs are different vocabularies that refer to different ways of thinking
about relationships so that his response about Myra's rights was oblique to
h er concern about her father's needs. Others in the class joined in to elabo-
rate Joe's insight, making the points that showing care and being fair re-
flect different understandings of what relationships are and that helpful
responses are contingent on the perspective of the person talking.
I then asked Myra whether she agreed with Joe's critique of his re-
~ sponse. Now more enabled to claim her voice than she had been three
days before, Myra confirmed Joe's recognition of the difference between
needs and rights views and added that his response was unhelpful in an-
other way. She noted she also hadn't appreciated his giving advice since
she hadn't asked for any. Once again, the class split with the majority of
women nodding in understanding while most of the men expressed mys-
tification and anger, insisting that if Myra hadn't wanted advice she
shouldn't have brought up the issue and that Joe was only trying to help
her.
This allowed me to introduce 1naterial that describes differences in
how women and men use communication and, relatedly, differences in
what they generally desire from others. We talked about what Deborah
Tannen (1990) has called "troubles talk," the kind of conversation in
which one person describes something that is frustrating him or her.
Drawing upon a wealth of research in communication and linguistics,
Tannen demonstrates that women most often engage in troubles talk to
connect to others and the response they desire is evidence that their con-
versational partner understands their feelings and cares that they are
troubled. Men, however, engage in troubles talk less frequently; when
they do, they tend to want advice on how to resolve a problem. (This is, of
course, but another variant on the well-established distinction between
expressive and instrumental goals in com1nunication that tend to di-
verge along gender lines.) Further, Tannen points out that 1nen feel com-
pelled to solve problems others present and especially feel so when
women express dilemmas since the male role of protector is "at stake" in
their capacity to take care of whatever is bothering a ,-voman.
After I had su1nmarized research on co1nmunication styles, I sketched
conceptual distinctions for students, showing how these differences in
desired responses corresponded to the different voices we had been dis-
cussing. Women in the class became highly vocal in confirming the dis-
tinction and in almost uniformly declaring men's penchant for doling
out advice and not attending to their feelings to be one of the most frus-
trating things about talking with guys. The men in the class, perhaps
feeling some defensiveness at what felt like an attack, countered that
144 PEDAGOGICAL PRACTICES IN THE FEM INIST CLASSROOM

they found it frustrating when women insisted on "processing every-

thing to death" and focusing on feelings when all they wanted was to
resolve whatever problem they had.
This led us back to our earlier discussion of "translation" as critical in
communication. Both men and women are generally trying to be helpful,
we concluded, but without understanding the other's "language," their
efforts often are ineffective. From this the class derived the principle that
in communication the goal is not to do for others what you want them to
do for you, but rather to do for others what they want you to do for them.
When I pushed students to consider other communication principles that
might grow out of our discussion, they came up with two additional ad-
visories. First, they agreed it's a good idea to decode language for others
so that they know what you want from them; second, they realized it's
useful to ask others what would help them if they don't say what they
want. Both of these principles, like the first one, are well supported by
research and theory on interpersonal communication, so my instruc-
tional role was simply to affirm what the students discovered on their
own.
At the class's instigation we devoted the remainder of the period to
informal role plays in which students took turns being "speaker" and
"listener" and practiced the three principles we had distilled: telling
partners what kind of response would be helpful, asking partners what
kind of response would be helpful, and responding in different ways-
using rights and needs language and understanding and advising re-
sponses. This proved an effective culminating experience for the unit on
different voices.

The philosophy underlying teaching about different voices as well as

much of the content of such teaching is implicit in the foregoing descrip-
tion of how that "communication" module came into being in my own
course. Now I want to present a more formal rationale that might be both
persuasive to administrators and clearly communicable to students.
There are four arguments for teaching undergraduate students about
gender differences in develop1nental paths and moral voices. The first is
especially pertinent in research institutions: this material must be in-
cluded in instruction in order to offer students the most inteJlectually
complete and current understanding of how humans develop and how
they conceive and respond to ethical issues. Teaching either Kohlberg's
model of 1nale development or Gilligan's model of female development
alone provides only a partial and, thus, an inaccurate understanding of
human behavior.
A second argument invokes the importance of teaching students to
honor differences on their own terms rather than to rank them hierarchi-
cally (see Brummet 1986). Particularly relevant in environments com-
BRINGING DIFFERENT VOICES INTO THE CLASSRO OM 145

mitted to humanistic education, the argument here is that teaching

about diverse ethical perspectives promotes awareness of and respect for
human diversity. In its nonjudgmental presentation of distinctive devel-
opmental patterns and outcomes, instruction fosters in students sensi-
tivity to pluralistic ways of defining the self and acting in relation to
others.
Th ird, teaching about different voices enhances the coherence of many
courses in women's studies by supporting and extending other instruc-
tional topics. For instance, many women's studies courses cover gender
socialization as a process that is enacted in part by differential treatment
of male and female children. Well-established differences in the social-
ization of male and female children can be integrated into the explana-
tions of how different moral voices evolve: The voice of earing's empha-
sis on responding to others and preserving relationships would certainly
be promoted by a socialization in which female infants are touched 1nore
and kept physically closer than are 1nale. Conversely, the voice of fair-
ness reflects a view of humans as essentially individual and separated, a
stance that is firmly cultivated by typical patterns of male socialization,
which stress independence and individual action. Similar connections
may be 1nade with topics such as self-esteem, assertiveness, salience of
relationships, managerial styles, and so forth. In many instances instruc-
tors will find that discussing different 1noral voices supplements material
already covered and introduces significant independent understandings.
Finally, instruction about different moral voices enlarges students'
insights into themselves and others with whom they interact. When stu-
dents do not understand that there are distinct, equally valid ways of
conceiving and expressing selfhood and connections with others, they
naturally perceive their way as "right." Consequently, they tend to per-
ceive ways other than their o,-vn as deficient, uninfor1ned, or otherwise
inferior. Knowledge of multiple, equally valid voices that reflect different
conceptions of the self, relationships, and behavior enables students to
broaden their understanding of the range of human thought and action
and to learn diverse ways of interpreting and responding to others in or-
der to be more personally and socially effective and constructive.
The serendipitous experience described in this essay was effective in a
particular class. It was one of those rare and magical moments in teach-
ing when people, ideas, and a particular situation seem to jell spontane-
ously. Yet, unplanned and unexpected moments in education, however
inspiring, cannot be counted on to inform teaching routinely. What I
want to do now is explain quite briefly how the unit I now regularly in-
clude in 1ny courses both makes use of and varies from the one that spon-
taneously occurred in the fall of 1990.
In the three ti1nes I've taught this unit since its spontaneous occur-
rence in the fall of 1990 I have experi1nented with variations in content,
146 PEDAGOGICAL PRACTICES IN THE FEMI N I ST CLASSROOM

length, and teaching process. These experiences have led me to two

variations from the original format. First, it is important to initiate the
unit with a concrete example within students' experiences, but a richly
detailed illustration cannot be expected to emerge spontaneously as it
did in my 1990 class. For this reason I developed a case study that I now
use to launch the unit.
A second change I have made is in the application section of the unit,
where my goal is to involve students in actually trying out the different
viewpoints of rights and needs and the distinct response styles of advis-
ing and understanding. Again, I have found that not all classes are as
amenable to experimenting with new skills as was the fall 1990 class.
Consequently, I now rely on role plays to provide structure and the safety
of assigned roles.
The final change I have made is to position the unit toward the begin-
ning of my course rather than at the midpoint where it originally emerged.
Understanding different ways of conceiving the self and relationships is
fundamental to appreciating many other dimensions of gender and com-
munication, which is the focus of my class. Alternative ways of contex-
tualizing the unit might well be more appropriate in other courses that
grow out of other disciplinary bases.
Despite these variations, what emerged the first time I taught this ma-
terial remains the basic blueprint for the unit as I have developed it over
the past two years. The fundamental structure and themes that unfolded
in the impromptu situation survived largely intact for the unit I now
routinely present. Currently I allot three days for the unit, and this has
continued to provide adequate time for discussing and processing ideas.
To inaugurate it, I present a case study based on the original incident in-
volving Myra, Bill, and Joe. Rather than situating their conversation in a
classroom as it actually occurred, however, the case represents them as
three friends involved in a conversation over lunch. After students have
read the conversation, I pose to them the same questions that I used in
the original class. This inevitably provokes a discussion entailing clashes
between moral viewpoints based on needs and rights and response styles
based on advising and understanding. I conclude this opening session
by offering a conceptual overview of the basic models developed by
Kohlberg (for male development) and Gilligan (for fema le deve!opment).
To provide students with a summary of information in this unit I hand
out a chart that has been adapted from my work with Lisa Lenze (see
table 1).
Following this, we spend the second day talking about response styles
as well as reasons why men and women may have both different tenden-
cies and preferences for responding. The principles I've previously identi-
fied are explicated at this point, and the class and I engage in discussion
BRINGING DIFFERENT VOI C ES INTO THE CLASS ROOM 147

that focuses on the distinctiveness of styles and the equal validity of

each.
The final day of the unit is devoted to application. Since I pre1niered
the unit, Lenze and I have developed role-play exercises to illustrate ef-
fective and ineffective ways of articulating what is wanted from a con-
versational partner and responding appropriately to another's "troubles
talk." Students participate in critiquing the role players, which allows us
to exercise critical judgment without creating defensiveness in role play-
ers. During the remainder of the period I repeat the "practice session"
that culminated the original teaching of this material. Students talk
with each other and practice stating what they ,-vant in a response, ask-
ing what kind of response another would find helpful, and reacting to
their partners with either understanding or advising co1nmunication.
The extent to which students value this unit is clearly de1nonstrated
in their final evaluations of the course. This unit, in whole or in part, is
routinely the most frequent response to the question, "What parts of the
course were most valuable to you?"
If a central purpose of liberal education is to expand students' appre-
ciation of differences among people, then this unit advances this goal. lt
does so in at least two ways. First, it discourages the 1nisperception that
gender and gender-associated behaviors are rigidly fixed by biology. In-
variably students' co1nments reveal that most women and some 1nen
adopt the voice of care, most men and some wo1nen endorse the voice of
fairness, and some members of each sex employ voices that blend atten-
tion to caring and fairness. Using students' o,-vn comments as illustra-
tions, instructors can emphasize the point that moral voice is gender-
influenced, not sex-deter1nined.
Second, a unit on moral voices provides an opportunity to think be-
yond the two voices that Gilligan recognized and the variations on them
noted by Belenky and her colleagues. Gilligan has been legitimately
criticized for implying that only two modes or voices exist when, in fact,
there may be multiple ones beyond what encrusted androcentric perspec-
tives have allowed us to envision. Extended class discussion of moral is-
sues discloses perspectives that do not fit neatly into the dichotomous
model Gilligan proposed. Thus, students are encouraged to continue the
process of discovering moral voices beyond the classroo1n.
The residual message of the unit I have described here is not that there
are two moral voices but that there is more than a single one: how 1nany
we have yet to know. When students e1nerge from a class with increased
insight into the1nselves and others and with greater respect for distinc-
tive modes of thinking and acting, then perhaps we come closer to bell
hooks's vision of education as an experience that liberates us by reaching
both our minds and our hearts.
148 PEDAGOGICAL PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

Notes
I. Although Gilligan claims that "The different voice I describe is character-
ized not by gender but theme" (2}, the narrative weight of the book argues
otherwise. Both Gilligan's own descriptions throughout her work and inter-
pretations of her findings by others represent the different voice she identi-
fies as at least strongly associated with, if not the product of, gender.

2. For extensions of Gilligan's theory see: Apter; Belenky et al.; Eichenbaum

and Orbach; Gilligan, "Moral Orientation and Moral Development"; Rubin;
and Wood.

3. Not only has male authority been privileged, but also most men in my class
responded in a manner consistent with conventional moral theory's empha-
sis on individual autonomy and rights. Uninformed by women's experiences
but nonetheless universalized to them, accepted views of morality grow out
of classic works by three men widely regarded as the "great" moral theorists
of this century: Eric Erickson, Childhood and Society; Lawrence Kohlberg,
"The Development of Modes of Thinking and Choices in Years 10 to 16";
and Jean Piaget, The Moral fudgment of the Child.

Works Cited
Apter, Terri. Altered Loves: Mothers and Daughters during Adolescence. New
York: St. Martins, 1990.
Belenky, Mary, Blythe Clinchy, Nancy Goldberger, and Jill Tarule. Women's
Ways of Knowing: The Development of Self, Voice, and Mind. New York:
Basic, 1986.
Brummett, Barry. "Absolutist and Relativist Stances toward the Problem of Dif-
ference: A Model for Student Growth in Public Speaking Education." Com-
munication Education 25 (1986): 269-74.
Disch, Estelle, and Becky Thompson. "Teaching and Learning from the Heart."
NWSA fournal 2 (1990): 68-78.
Eichenbaum, Luise, and Susie Orbach. Between Women: Love, Envy and Com-
petition in Women's Friendships. New York: Viking, 1988.
Erickson, Eric. Childhood and Society. New York: Norton, 1950.
Gilligan, Carol. In a Different Voice: Psychological Theory and Women's Devel-
opment. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1982.
- - . "Moral Orientation and Moral Development." In Women and Moral
Theory, ed. E. Kittay and D. Meyers. Savage, MD: Rowman and Littlefield,
1987. 19-33.
Gilligan, Carol, Janie V. Ward, and Jill M. Taylor, with Betty Baldridge, eds. Map-
ping the Moral Domain. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1988.
hooks, bell. Talking Back: Thinking Feminist , Thinking Black. Boston: South
End Press, 1989.
BRINGING DIFFERENT VOICES INTO THE CLASSROOM 149

Kohlberg, Lawrence. "The Development of Modes of Thinking and Choices in

Years 10 to 16." PhD diss., University of Chicago, 1958.
Larde, Audre. Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches. Trumansburg, NY: The
Crossing Press, 1984.
Piaget, Jean . The Moral Judgment of the Child. 1932. Rpt. New York: The Free
Press, 1965.
Rubin, Lillian. Just Friends: The Role of Friendship in Our Lives. New York:
Harper and Row, 1985.
Shapiro, Amy. "Creating a Conversation: Teaching All Wo rnen in the Feminist
Classroom." NWSA Journal 3 (1991): 70-80.
Tannen, Deborah. You Just Don't Understand: Women and Men in Conversa-
tion. N ew York: William Morrow, 1990.
Treichler, Paula, and Cheris Kramarae. " Women's Talk in the Ivory Tower."
Communication Quarterly 31 (1983): 18-32.
Wood, Julia T. "Different Voices in Relationship Crises: An Extension of Gilli-
gan's Theory." American Behavioral Scientist 29 (1986): 273-301.
Wood, Julia T., and Lisa Lenze. "Gender and the Developn1ent of Self: Inclusive
Pedagogy in Interpersonal Co1nmunication." Women 's Studies in Com1nu-
nication 14 (1991): 1-23.
CHAPTER NINE

Teaching about Domestic Violence: Strategies

for Empowerment

SAUNDRA GARDNER

The burgeoning literature on feminist pedagogy has led many of us to

examine critically not only what we teach in our courses but also how
we teach. 1 Struggling to create a learning environment that empowers all
students, feminist faculty have been particularly concerned with the
structure and dynamics of the classroom, the personal and emotional
impact of course materials, and the development of teaching methods
that facilitate personal and social change.2 While such concerns are
certainly germane to any feminist classroom, I believe they are partic-
ularly salient in courses that center on sensitive topics such as domes-
tic violence.3 The emotional intensity of the subject, the strong sense of
powerlessness many students feel, and the high proportion of survivors
who enroll in such courses, all produce a unique set of challenges to
those teaching in this field. 4 For example, how do we talk about domes-
tic violence without revictimizing members of the class who have ex-
perienced it? How can we counteract feelings of hopelessness and de-
spair, which intensify as we explore one form of domestic violence after
another?
Given the nature of traditional academic training, many of us are not
prepared to answer such questions or even to anticipate them. To help
bridge this gap, I would like to share my experiences teaching domestic-
violence courses over the past six years. While there is obviously no sin-
gle "right way" to organize or teach any course, we can learn from each
other's mistakes and successes and it is in this spirit that I offer the fol-
lowing overview of my course. In addition to highlighting the types of
problems and issues that frequently emerged in my classes, I discuss spe-
cific teaching strategies developed to mitigate them. I also present a de-
tailed description of my current syllabus as well as discuss how course
requirements have changed over time, and why.
I first taught the course described here, Domestic Violence and Social
Structure, in 1985. It is an upper-level sociology course as well as an ap-
proved elective in the Peace Studies and Women's Studies programs on
campus. The course presents a feminist analysis of various forms of do-
mestic violence (e.g., wife beating, physical violence against children,
incest, lesbian battering, etc.) and critically examines how the patriar-
chal structure and ideology of society function to create and perpetuate

Originally published in the Spring 1993 issue of the NWSA fournal.

TEACHING ABOUT DOMESTIC VIOLENCE 151

violent behavior. The course is offered every three semesters and enroll-
ment is limited to forty.
While the class attracts students fro1n a wide variety of majors, the
fields of education and social work are often overrepresented. The major-
ity of students are middle-class, and nearly all students are white. Stu-
dents' ages typically range from eighteen to fifty-five, but the majority
are under twenty-three years old. My classes also tend to be dispropor-
tionately female. Since I have taught the course, only thirty out of a total
of 144 students have been male.
Of all my courses, domestic violence is a1nong the hardest to teach
and it certainly is the most emotionally draining. This is due, in part, to
the subject matter of the course, but another key factor is the high pro-
portion of students in the class who have experienced physical and/or
sexual violence during childhood or as adults. Typically, about one-third
of those who enroll in the course "know" they are survivors and another
third come to this realization about midway through the semester. Al-
though these figures are relatively high, they are not unusual. Others
who have taught domestic violence or related courses, such as Janet Lee
(1989, 543-44) and Brenda D. Phillips (1988, 289), report similar patterns.
Thus, for 1nany students, the course either opens up old wounds or trig-
gers an awareness of past experiences with violence that have been bur-
ied for years. 5 For those who have not directly experienced violence, the
course is also a struggle since it directly challenges their taken-for-
granted and, oftentimes, idealized conception of the family. Most ini-
tially respond to this challenge by either doubting the prevalence of do-
mestic violence or by blaming the victiin for such behavior. Although
these patterns of resistance begin to disappear by the third or fourth
week of the se1nester, frustration and depression often take their place.
For those teaching courses on do1nestic violence, especially for the
first ti 1ne, these responses to the course can create a great deal of per-
sonal anguish. I reme1nber, for example, seriously questioning whether it
was even appropriate to teach a course that focused on such an emotion-
ally volatile and sensitive topic. Were the costs to myself, and to the stu-
dents, just too high? I also remember feeling confused about 1ny ethical
responsibilities, particularly in relation to survivors in the class. As I
struggled with these issues, I sought the advice of others, including col-
leagues, members of the class, representatives of a local battered wo1nen's
project, and personal friends who were survivors. All offered valuable
suggestions for how I could reduce the personal trauma experienced by
survivors in the class as well as minimize the resistance and fatalis1n so
co1nmon among the other students. These early discussions allayed my
anxieties about the course and, perhaps more important, they provided
the impetus for many of the curricular changes and teaching strategies
outlined in this article.
152 PEDAGOG IC A L PRACTI C ES I N THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

The issues and concerns that emerged during my first semester of

teaching about domestic violence dramatically increased my awareness
of what I call the "politics of syllabus construction." I am referring here
to the notion that every syallabus we create is more than just a map of
the course; it is a highly political document. Each of its components,
ranging from the texts we choose to the particular topics we cover, con-
veys very specific messages to the student about our values and priori-
ties. And, given the painful histories of many students enrolled in
domestic-violence courses, these messages take on a heightened signifi-
cance. As a result, those of us who teach such courses need to construct
our syllabi with great care.
In terms of texts and readings, I believe it is important to choose ma-
terials that provide a strong conceptual framework for analyzing do-
mestic violence yet, at the same time, do not objectify those who have
experienced it. In this regard, I have found that qualitative studies work
best. Two that I use and highly recommend are: Violence against Wives
by Emerson Dobash and Russell D.obash (1979) and Father-Daughter In-
cest by Judith Herman (1981). I have also taught the course using more
quantitative texts but stopped doing so for several reasons. First, I found
that such texts did little to increase students' understanding of the dy-
namics or social context of violent behavior, and this was especially true
for those who had not directly experienced violence. As a result, it was
much easier for such students to maintain their "us versus them" men-
tality, often expressed in comments such as "I'd never stay in an abusive
situation" or "There must be something wrong with these people." As
Phillips notes, such remarks are quite common among nonsurvivors and,
for those who have experienced violence, they are quite painful (291 ). In
my classes, this situation frequently produced hostile interactions be-
tween survivors and nonsurvivors, with neither group being "heard" by
the other. Secondly, quantitative texts elicited consistent negative feed-
back from survivors in the class. Most viewed such texts as yet another
form of victimization; many reported feeling objectified, "unreal," and
lifeless. Or, in the words of one survivor, "Rather than illuminating my
experiences or those of other survivors, page after page of charts and ta-
bles just seemed to erase it." Both of these problems were alleviated when
I switched to qualitative texts that offered a more subjective and contex-
tual analysis of violence.
Given the numerous myths and stereotypes associated with domestic
violence, I believe it is also important to include materials that highlight
the theme of cultural diversity. In my course, I address this concern in
several ways. First, in my presentations to the class, I pay particular at-
tention to how differences in race, sexual identity, socioeconomic status,
and age affect the various types of domestic violence covered in the
course.6 Secondly, I assign several reserve readings that address how the
TEACHING A BOUT DOMESTIC VIOLENCE 153

dynamics of battering are affected by sexual identity and by race (i.e.,

Uzzell and Peebles-Wilkins [1991], 131-38, and Hart [1986], 173- 89).
The course also includes several optional books, such as Voices in the
Night, edited by Toni McNaron and Yarrow Morgan (1982), and I Never
Told Anyone, edited by Ellen Bass and Louise Thornton (1983). These
texts are 1nainly first-person accounts of violence written by survivors.
As such, they serve to validate and affirm the experiences of students
with similar histories and, in particular, those just beginning to explore
their past. These experiential readings also help others in the class gain
a deeper understanding of what it means to be victimized by people you
love and trust. Despite these advantages, I believe such texts work best as
optional rather than required reading. Given the graphic descriptions of
violence discu ssed by the authors and what this 1night, in turn, trigger
for the reader, I fee l each student should have complete freedom of choice
regarding if and when to read this material.
I also think it is important for the syllabus to include the names and
phone nu1nbers of local resources and services (e.g., crisis centers, bat-
tered wo1nen's shelters, counseling centers, etc.). In 1ny course, I discuss
this list on the first day of class as well as my rationale for including it.
As part of this discussion, I talk about the types of students who typi-
cally take the course and how important it is for those who experience
difficulty with the class to seek assistance. Like Phillips, I fi nd that this
type of discussion increases peer sensitivity to survivors' experiences and,
as a result, helps to create a more positive learning environment (291). I
also remind students of the resource list throughout the se1nester and
make a special effort to do so whenever we begin to discuss a new topic,
such as incest and battering.
Since most students are quite anxious about taking the course, and
this is particularly true for survivors, it is helpful if the syllabus is very
explicit about what issues will be discussed within each topic area of the
course and when. In my experience, such information reduces student
anxiety stemming from "fear of the unknown" and, in addition, it helps
students with violent histories to make an informed choice about whether
to attend class on a specific day. Although I view class attendance as im-
portant, I also know that some topics may trigger intense e1notional pain
as well as flashbacks for some students. Thus, I do not require attendance
as I do in all other courses I teach. At the beginning of the semester, I
inform students that they may miss class, and do so without penalty,
whenever they feel this choice is emotionally necessary. I also suggest
that they get notes from a class1nate or meet with me privately to discuss
the material covered in class during their absence.
In terms of deciding what to discuss and when, I typically use the first
few weeks of the semester to highlight conceptual and theoret ical issues
central to the course. Aside from introducing students to the analytical
154 PEDAGOGI CAL PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

framework we will be using throughout the semester, this type of dis-

cussion creates a relatively nonthreatening environment with in which
the class can begin to develop a sense of community and trust. It has
been my experience that the feeling of safety engendered by such a class-
room atmosphere clearly facilitates later discussions of more experien-
tial course materials. Also, when discussing each form of domestic vio-
lence, I have found that creating a balance between analytical and
experiential approaches to the topic works best. Shifting back and forth
between these frameworks helps to ensure that students do not get too
lost in abstractions nor become too emotionally drained. Over the years,
students have frequently commented that the more theoretical discus-
sions provided an important "emotional time out" for them, and I should
add, for myself as well.
Another way to of£set the gloom that can paralyze a class is to add
what I call a "social response" section after each form of violence dis-
cussed. Here the emphasis is on social action and, in particular, current
programs and services aimed at reducing the various types of domestic
violence. To highlight this theme, I schedule a variety of guest speakers
throughout the semester. Among those I typically include are police of-
ficers, a victim-witness advocate from the DA's office, representatives
from Parents Anonymous, local therapists who specialize in the area of
domestic violence, caseworkers from the Department of Human Ser-
vices, and staff from a local battered women's shelter. In addition to
these professionals, several incest survivors and formerly battered women
speak with the class. Based on student feedback, these presentations are
clearly viewed as the most significant of the semester. Some students
note, for example, how the speakers' personal stories made many of the
concepts and issues of the course "come to life"; others describe how the
presentations enabled them to stop "blaming the victim"; and comments
from survivors in the class typically highlight the importance of such
speakers as role models.
With regard to specific assignments, I have had the most success with
those that encourage cooperative and collaborative learning. Two I highly
recommend are in-class discussion groups and student-initiated social-
change projects. Both activities help to create a sense of community
within the classroom, and they also provide time for students to talk
with each other about their thoughts, feelings, reactions to the course,
and so forth. The in-class discussion groups are formed at the beginning
of the semester and meet about every two weeks. Students are randomly
assigned to these groups and, each time they meet, one member serves as
discussion leader. This person is responsible for preparing a presentation
on a topic or issue relevant to the course and for leading the group discus-
sion. Fulfillment of this assignment is worth 15 percent of the student's
final grade.
TEACHING ABOUT DOMESTIC VIOLENCE 155

The other assignment, student-initiated social-change projects, is one

I introduced several years ago as an option to the more trad itional term
paper. A key benefit of these projects is that they offer students a way to
effectively translate their anger and frustration regarding the prevalence
of domestic violence into concrete social action designed to reduce it. In
doing so, these projects enable students to create their own answers to a
question that frequently dominates class discussions of domestic vio-
lence: "What can we do to help stop this behavior? 11
Early in the semester, students who elect to work on a social-change
project in lieu of a term paper are asked to submit a brief description of
their ideas for possible social-change projects.7 Students with similar in-
terests are placed together in groups typically consisting of four to six
people. Each group is given about two weeks to prepare a preliminary
proposal outlining the specific goals of their project and how they plan to
achieve them. To ensure that the projects are both appropriate and ethi-
cally sound, I review the proposals and request revisions if necessary. I
also serve as a resource person by linking groups to relevant campus and/
or community organizations.
My evaluation of this assignment is based on two sources of informa-
tion, each accounting for 15 percent of the student's final grade. The first
is a group report, written collaboratively, that describes the rationale and
goals of the project, any problems the group encountered regarding the
project's design and/or implementation, the outcome of the project, and
what the group views as the short- and long-term in1pact of their project.
The second required paper is an individual project report submitted by
each group member. Here students are asked to describe what they learned
from working on the project, what they might have done differently and
why, and their own thoughts and reactions regarding the process of creat-
ing social change.
The majority of student projects developed over the past several years
have focused on creating social change within the university cornmu-
nity. Of these, most have either attempted to increase student awareness
of domestic violence or to create additional services for members of the
campus community who have experienced such violence. One group, for
example, organized a university-wide Incest Awareness Day, which be-
came an annual event for several years. Others presented workshops in
residence halls on such topics as emotional and physical abuse, courtship
violence, and incest. And, some students worked to establish campus-
wide therapy and support groups for survivors of violence.
There have also been a variety of off-campus projects aimed at creat-
ing social change within the larger local community. Most of these proj-
ects were developed in consultation with the local battered women's
shelter, and all have focused on obtaining information designed to stim-
ulate social change. One group, for example, organized a court ,.vatch to
156 PEDAGOG I C AL PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

ascertain the circumstances under which judges were most likely to grant
a protection-from-abuse order. This information was then shared with
staff of the local shelter and others who provide legal services for battered
women. In a related project, another group interviewed formerly battered
women to assess how well current shelter and community services met
their needs and to ascertain how such services could be improved. Other
students interviewed local police officers regarding the strengths and
weaknesses of current domestic-violence laws, problems associated with
their enforcement, and ways to improve the existing statutes.
Student evaluations of the social-change assignment have been ex-
tremely positive. In fact, many have described this aspect of the course
as one of the most empowering and transformative experiences of their
college careers. For instance, one student wrote: "This is the first time in
four years that the work I've done for a course has actually been relevant
to the real world." Others commented more directly on the link between
theory and praxis and, in particular, how it affected their emotional re-
sponse to the course: "I don't feel stuck or paralyzed anymore since we
were able to use our knowledge to do something positive and concrete
about domestic violence. We didn't just talk; we put our education to
work." Such comments clearly suggest, that in courses on sensitive topics
like domestic violence, it is particularly useful for students to become
actively involved in their education and this includes the process of social
change. By working with others who share their concerns and by having
the opportunity to design and implement projects such as those described
here, students soon realize they can effect change; they can "make a dif-
ference." Thus, by incorporating assignments designed to promote social
activism, faculty can help reduce the feelings of despair and powerless-
ness so common among students in their domestic-violence classes.
In conclusion, one of the most difficult tasks facing those of us who
teach domestic violence or related courses is to create a learning envi-
ronment in which students feel both safe and empowered. There are obvi-
ously countless ways to achieve this goal, and the most successful are
likely to be those that take into account students' emotional as well as
intellectual needs. In this regard, I hope the teaching strategies and course
curriculum outlined here prove to be useful resources.

Notes

An earlier version of this paper was presented at the annual meeting of the Na-
tional Women's Studies Association, June 1989, in Towson, MD.

1. For an excellent overview of this literature, see Weiler; Ryan; Culley and
Portuges; and Bunch and Pollack.
TEACHING ABOUT DOMESTIC VIOLENCE 15 7

2 . For further discussion of the dyna1nics of feminist teaching, see Rakow;

Disch and Thompson; Lewis; Gardner et al.; and Rothenberg.

3. As defined here, domestic violence includes all forms of emotional/ psycho-

logical, physical, or sexual violence that occur within inti1nate, familial, or
familylike relationships. Thus, unlike the more frequently used term "fam-
ily violence," this conceptualization includes violent behavior between in-
dividuals unrelated through blood or marriage (e.g., dating violence, lesbian
battering, etc.).

4. It is important to note that these issues can emerge in any course that in-
cludes one or 1nore class sessions on the topic of domestic violence. See, for
exa1nple, the works by Lee and Phillips.

5. This knowledge is based on information shared with me by students via

private conversations, written assignments, and course evaluations.

6. My lectures draw on a wide variety of materials, but 1 have found the work
of the following authors to be especially useful: Gelles and Cornell; h ooks;
Gordon; Lobel; and Russell.

7. Typically, about seventy-five percent of the class choose this option.

Works Cited
Bass, Ellen, and Louise Thornton, eds. I Never Told Anyone: Writings by Women
Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse. New York: Harper and Row, 1983.
Bunch, Charlotte, and Sandra Pollack, eds. Learning Our Way: Essays in Femi-
nist Education. Trumansburg, NY: Crossing Press, 1983.
Gulley, Margo, and Catherine Portuges, eds. Gendered Subjects: The Dynamics
of Feminist Teaching. Boston: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1985.
Disch, Estelle, and Becky Tho1npson. "Teaching and Learning from the Heart."
NWSA fournal 2 (1990): 68- 78 .
Dobash, Emerson, and Russell Dobash. Violence against Wives. New York: Free
Press, 1979.
Gardner, Saundra, Cynthia Dean, and Deo McKaig. "Responding to Differences
in the Classroom: The Politics of Knowledge, Class, and Sexuality." Sociol-
ogy of Education 62.1 (1989): 64-74.
Gelles, Richard J., and Claire Pedrick Cornell. Intimate Violence in Families.
Newbury Park, CA: Sage, 1990.
Gordon, Linda. Heroes of Their Own Lives. New York: Viking Penguin, 1988.
Hart, Barbara. " Lesbian Battering: An Examination." In Naming the Violence:
Speaking out about Lesbian Battering, ed. Magda Lobel, 173- 89. Seattle: Seal
Press.
Herman, Judith Lewis. Father-Daughter Incest. Cambridge, MA: Harvard Uni-
versity Press, 1981.
158 PEDAGOGICAL PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

hooks, bell. "Violence in Intimate Relationships." Talking Back. Boston: South

End Press, 1989. 84-91.
Lee, Janet. "Our Hearts Are Collectively Breaking: Teaching Survivors of Vio-
lence." Gender and Society 3 (1989): 541-48.
Lewis, Magda. "Interrupting Patriarchy: Politics, Resistance, and Transforma-
tion in the Feminist Classroom." Harvard Educational Review 60 (1990):
467-88.
Lobel, Kerry, ed. Naming the Violence: Speaking Out about Lesbian Battering.
Seattle: Seal Press, 1986.
McNaron, Toni A. H., and Yarrow Morgan, eds. Voices in the Night: Women
Speaking about Incest. Pittsburgh: Cleis Press, 1982.
Phillips, Brenda D. "Teaching about Domestic Violence to an At-Risk Popula-
tion: Insights from Sociological and Feminist Perspectives." Teaching Soci-
ology 16 (1988): 289-93.
Rakow, Lana F. "Gender and Race in the Classroom: Teaching Way Out of Line."
Feminist Teacher 6 (1991): 10-13.
Rothenberg, Paula . "Integrating the Study of Race, Gender, and Class: Some Pre-
liminary Observations." Feminist Teacher 3 (1988): 37-42 .
Russell, Diana E. H. The Secret Trauma: Incest in the Lives of Girls and Women.
New York: Basic Books, 1986.
Ryan, Maureen. "Classroom and Contexts: The Challenge of Feminist Pedagogy."
Feminist Teacher 4 (1989): 39-42.
Uzzell, Odell, and Wilma Peebles-Wilkins. "Black Spouse Abuse: A Focus on
Relational Factors and Intervention Strategies." The Black Family: Essays
and Studies. Ed. Robert Staples. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth, 1991. 131-38.
Weiler, Kathleen. Women Teaching for Change: Gender, Class, and Power. South
Hadley, MA: Bergin and Garvey, 1988.
- - . " Freire and a Feminist Pedagogy of Difference." Harvard Education4J
Review 61 (1991): 449-74.
CHAPTER TEN

The Shift from Identity Politics to the Politics

of Identity: Lesbian Panels in the Women's
Studies Classroom

MARY MARGARET FONOW AND DEBIAN MARTY

This chapter discusses the teaching implications of constructionist ap-

proaches to the study of sexual identity and evaluates our efforts in im-
ple1nenting these approaches in introductory women's studies classes.
Borrowing insights from postmodern feminism, we also offer sugges-
tions for how we teach and theorize about sexual identities. Pri1nary at-
tention is given to an analysis of students' reactions to lesbian panels and
to an assessment of the usefulness of these panels in fostering student
understanding of sexual identity. Our discussion is based on our o,-vn
teaching experience, on interviews with other instructors, and on 169
written student responses to lesbian panels. Our primary goal is to ex-
amine how the topic of sexual identity is taught to general education
students enrolled in the basic women's studies survey course offered by
the Center for Women's Studies at the Ohio State University. 1 Students
who take this course to fulfill general education requirements usually
have little or no knowledge of feminist scholarship and rarely have had
the opportunity to study and discuss the topic of sexual identity.
We are aware of the limitations in constructionist argu1nents and of the
existence of tendencies toward essentialism in some important feminist
writing on sexuality and sexual identity. 2 Nonetheless, we deliberately
chose constructionist approaches for this particular audience because we
believe such approaches encourage students to be more self-reflexive about
their own sexuality. Constructionist approaches encourage students to
think historically and cross-culturally about sexuality and gender and
challenge students to examine their own and society's assumptions about
the naturalness of both categories. Thus, the use of the lesbian panel as a
pedagogical tool is embedded within the general context of how we teach
about gender and sexuality.
The readings, films, and exercises we choose help students recon-
struct categories of sexual identity and gain a historical understanding
of how categories of sexual identity are created, changed over time, and
claimed by individuals. These activities also help students to develop an
appreciation of diversity within and between categories of sexual identity
and to understand the role of homophobia and heterosexism in privileging
h eterosexuality at the expense of all our sexual identities. Students read

Originally published in the Autumn 1991 issue of the NWSA fournal.

160 PEDAGOGICAL PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

literary and first person accounts, oral histories, and interviews with in-
dividuals who have challenged gender norms and the heterosexual im-
perative. Growing-up narratives and coming-out stories, a staple of les-
bian and gay culture, encourage students to grasp socialization pressures
as well as the joy of self-discovery. Selected readings from this genre help
students recognize that, while violations of societal norms are difficult
and often painful, such violations are necessary for personal and politi-
cal empowerment.3
To insure a diverse representation of experience, special care is taken
to incorporate the writing of lesbians of color and working-class lesbi-
ans.4 These perspectives help students to comprehend the complexity of
multiple identities and the systems of oppression based on differences of
race and class. When the experiences of women with multiple marginal-
ized identities are validated, several responses are possible. One response,
which we see frequently, is that heterosexual students who are marginal-
ized in other ways may bridge their resistance to homosexuality through
solidarity on the basis of race or class. Students can recognize in the mul-
tiplicity of identities the potential for conflict and for common cause.
Historical materials are important in this course because they provide
students the opportunity to examine the economic and social changes
that make it possible for women to claim a lesbian identity. The materi-
als also show how lesbians can build communities and politics around
their identity. Historical texts also provide concrete examples and illus-
trations of changing sexual mores and practices and in this way further
undermine the naturalness of sexual categories and reveal the political
nature of sexual definitions and categorization.5
Through a variety of activities and exercises, students begin to iden-
tify and analyze the pressures they have encountered from pa.rents,
teachers, clergy, peers, and popular culture to adopt a heterosexual iden-
tity. These activities include writing a hypothetical coming-out letter to
parents; asking students to locate or create a greeting card for a same-sex
lover, lesbian, gay family member, or friend; and participating in role-
playing exercises, for example, bringing a lesbian lover to an office party,
being a lesbian at a parent-teacher conference, coming out at a family
reunion, or holding a lesbian/gay marriage ceremony. But we believe one
of the most effective tools in aiding students with the task of deconstruc-
tion is the lesbian panel.

Late in the term, usually around the seventh or eighth week, instructors
invite a panel of guest speakers to discuss their lesbianism with the stu-
dents. Speakers typically share biographical information about coming
out or coming to consciousness as lesbians. Most of the students' ques-
tions focus on intrapersonal and interpersonal relationships: How do
lesbians relate with their families of origin, lovers, friends, coworkers,
SHIFT TO THE POLITICS OF IDENTITY 161

employers? How do lesbians negotiate the terrain of disapproval? When

and how did they know about their lesbianism? Com1nunicating about the
lives of lesbians presents a central challenge, since one of the 1nost preva-
lent student 1nisconceptions is that lesbians are solely defined by their
sexual orientation. We ask the1n1 as members of a social group whose
membership is determined by sexual criteria, to speak about their experi-
ences in ways that overcome audience stereotypes based on sexual catego-
rization. Meredith Maran, a speaker fro1n the Pacific Center for Sexual
Minorities in Berkeley, California, addresses this concern from the pan-
elist's point of view:
It strikes me then that people we speak to during these engagements-the
students and workers and in1nates and teachers-know ... [little! of our lives.
That by opening up only the sexual aspect of ourselves for discussion, we are
inviting them to see us as one-dimensional sexual beings and si1nultaneously
demanding that they relinquish that stereotype.6

While lesbians are struggling to be defined by more than the gender of

their sex partners, it is, nonetheless, their sexual attraction to women,
and by ilnplication their rejection of heterosexuality, that is at the core of
both societal and student opposition. This paradox can constrain the pre-
sentation of infor1nation about lesbian sexuality and encourage a form of
self-censorship. The counterbalance to this impulse toward impression
management is the dynamic and spontaneous exchanges that happen in
small classroom settings. These exchanges make it hard to 1naintain the
mask and the myriad variables that come into play in the selection of
panelists, such as who is available to be a panelist- who is out. 117
11

In order for this exercise to work, students 1nust be willing to see past
the comfortable stereotypes that serve important psychological and so-
cial functions for them, and instructors must be willing to recognize the
e1notional and intellectual difficulty of such a project. Throughout the
term we ask students to reexamine their most cherished values and as-
sumptions about human nature, gender, and the nature of relations be-
tween the sexes. When we succeed, they no longer see gender as a fixed
and stable category. Can we say the same for heterosexuality? Though we
have carefully woven infor1nation about the experiences and contribu-
tions of lesbians throughout the course, our best efforts to deconstruct
heterosexuality are tested 1nost severely by students' face-to-face con-
frontations with lesbians.
In addition to a lack of basic kno,,vledge about homosexuality, students
bring to the college classroo1n their o,,vn sexual histories, experiences,
and insecurities, which have been shaped by their gender, age, race, class,
and sexual orientation, and which interact in co1nplex ,,vays with our ef-
forts to teach about sexuality and sexual identity. Side by side, in the
same classroom, are lesbian, bisexua l, heterosexual, and gay students of
162 PEDAGOGICAL PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

various racial and ethnic backgrounds; children and other relatives of

gays and lesbians; students questioning their sexual identity; incest and
rape survivors; students who are not yet sexually active; and sexually
experienced students. This diversity in the classroom is both a challenge
and a resource. Students of color frequently draw the parallels between
racis1n and homophobia. A black student, for example, who was outraged
when one panelist talked about employment discrimination, dramati-
cally told the class:
I'm sick of this. What gives people the right to impose their petty prejudices
on others? Do you think as a black person I care what you think about me or
say about me behind my back? But if you try and take away my livelihood, my
education, my job, then you are going to have a fight on your hands. 8

A white woman who had dated a black man made the following con-
nection:
The fact that lesbians sometimes have to hide their partners is similar to in-
terracial dating. I was in an interracial relationship for nearly six years and
had to hide that from my family. They never even met him, and wouldn't! I
guess that "coming out" is impo.rtant to your happiness in relationships. It
hurts to hide the one you love.

Lesbian and gay students have a variety of reactions to the lesbian

panels and other efforts to teach about their experiences. These reactions
may include pride and self-validation, fear of exposure and embarrass-
ment about overgeneralizations, and anger when other students reveal
their homophobia. One woman wrote, "I feel very supported in being a
lesbian ... a sense of camaraderie and positive reinforcement." Another
lesbian, concerned about overgeneralizations, wrote, "I feel it is very im-
portant to state in the beginning llike one of the women did) that it was
her own opinion. She was not representing the opinions of all lesbians,
just her own." Family members and friends of gay men and lesbians 1nay
also find validation in the gay-affirming classroom. One student volun-
teered the following: "I've never judged a person based on sexual prefer-
ence. My fiance's father is a homosexual, and he has been living with his
partner ever since his divorce twelve years ago. Homosexual couples can
also raise children in an open-minded and moralistic way." ,
Among heterosexual students, only a small number of written reac-
tions to the lesbian panels could be clearly labeled hostile. These remarks
included "makes me feel sick," "uncomfortable and disgusted," "sinful,"
and "gross." Most, while awkward and sometiines ambivalent, indicate
some degree of acceptance or understanding of the experiences, feelings,
or rights of the lesbian panelists. The majority of students report they felt
more co1nfortable with gays and lesbians or with homosexuality after
the panel. Typical responses were "Gay people aren't as scary to me any-
SHUT TO THE POLITI CS OF IDENTITY 163

more"; "I feel more open minded because of being confronted face to face
with homosexuals"; "The stereotypes I had were really shattered .... I
feel more of an understanding."
Ethical considerations demand careful attention to the creation of a
safe environment in which all participants can discuss sensitive topics.
Gay students and instructors will be exposed to the homophobic reac-
tions of nongay students, who need to have the freedom to reveal their
prejudices and lack of knowledge in order to have them challenged. For
real learning to occur, confrontations with students about their ho-
mophobia must be dealt with directly, in a way that does not shame or
humiliate the offending student and at the same time repairs the damage
done to the self-respect of gay, lesbian, and bisexual students. It is impor-
tant not to reproduce in the classroo1n the racism, class privilege, sex-
ism, and heterosexism found in society. To foster a positive environment
in which students can acquire an understanding of diversity, including
sexual diversity, some instructors distribute a set of guidelines devel-
oped by Lynn Weber Cannon that lays the ground rules for classroo1n
discussions of social and cultural diversity. 9 Early in the course we talk
about the power of words to coerce and silence as well as to liberate, and
we insist that students use language that honors diversity.
"I" statements encourage accurate placement of responsibility for stu-
dents' feelings. Students, for example, can look to themselves for the
reasons they are homophobic, rather than projecting their reasons onto
lesbians. We also find it useful to disclose our own struggles with racism,
sexism, heterosexism, and class biases. 10
It is evident from our experience that, in an effort to transcend de-
scriptive categorization, lesbianism must first be reclaimed from domi-
nant stereotyping and presented as a total human experience. Within the
process of naming and defining their own lives, speakers repair and vali-
date an experiential, as opposed to an ideological, lesbian identity. As
students hear the speakers talk about their aspirations, needs, desires, and
practical day-to-day living, many students respond by recognizing how
"normal" lesbians are. One student wrote, "Homosexuals have the same
hu1nan desires as heterosexuals, only towards the sa1ne sex. They want
love, respect, knowledge, etc. In fact, they're probably a lot more human
and honest than most heterosexuals I know." Other students have writ-
ten, "It [the panel] makes a lesbian more human, like myself, instead of
being someone weird"; and "The panel made me realize even more that
there is no difference between heterosexuals and homosexuals, both lead
the same types of lives, both have feelings and both put their pants on the
same way."
Beyond humanizing the topic, panelists identify homophobia as the
culprit responsible for distorting lesbian lives. When speakers reveal ho-
1nophobia as the ideological barrier keeping lesbian and gay people from
164 PEDAGOG IC AL PRAC TI C ES I N T HE FEMIN I ST CLASSROOM

the common roundtable of humanity, they simultaneously make it evi-

dent that there is nothing inherently deviant or inhuman in being a les-
bian. As a result, many students relocate their understanding of respon-
sibility for stigma from lesbians to homophobic beliefs and practices. As
instructors make it explicit that lesbianism and homophobia are differ-
ent but overlapping social constructs, students, many of whom freely
acknowledge their homophobia, have an opportunity to clarify that ho-
mophobia is a problem for heterosexuals and homosexuals in different
ways. We hope that as students recognize how homophobia limits them
but is not all that they are, so too homophobia limits but does not define
lesbians. One student wrote, "It is not a problem that lesbians are lesbi-
ans, it is the problem of prejudice on the part of others." Another re-
ported, "The panel made me feel pity for people who are homophobic
because everyone is different and should be accepted by others for who
they are and not their sexual orientation."
Students sometimes make painful connections with their own ho-
mophobia, as did the student who wrote, "On the first day of class I
opened my big mouth and said I am very prejudice against homosexuals.
I feel now I am more open." Another student reported, "It made me feel
bad about how I've made gay/lesbian jokes in the past, but the panel made
me see for myself that they are real people with real feelings." This pro-
cess of relocating responsibility for homophobic attitudes of ten occurs in
discussions of lesbian parenting. Students frequently cite society's preju-
dice as a reason that gay people should not parent and exhibit concern
about the anxiety gays' children must inevitably suffer because of their
parents' nonconformity. Helping students to recognize homophobia as
the problem, and not lesbian mothers, validates lesbians' experiences and
choices. This recognition parallels the parenting responsibilities of lesbi-
ans with those of other parents from oppressed groups and legitimates
the feelings and concerns of the children of gays and lesbians, some of
whom are in the class.
Once audience members recognize the "normalcy" of lesbian human-
ity, heteros.e xual identity cannot remain unproblematic. After all, if les-
bians are "normal" people, then the heterosexual claim to· exclusive
normality is dispelled. To facilitate student exploration of heterosexism,
several women's studies instructors have initiated heterosexual guest
panels. Instructors frequently use a "heterosexual questionnaire,'' which
inverts many of the questions typically asked of lesbian panelists, such
as, "When did you first know you were a heterosexual?" or "Since the
overwhelming majority of child molesters are heterosexual males, should
heterosexual men work at daycare centers or as elementary school teach-
ers?" What becomes most evident during heterosexual panels is the un-
questioned power of heterosexual identity. Problems reside not with het-
SHIFT TO THE POLITICS OF IDENTITY 165

erosexual acts or heterosexual actors hut with the construction of an

identity dependent on diminishing other sexual acts and actors in order
to appear as the sole socially acceptable choice. Once heterosexism is
challenged, a space is created that allows students to think more reflex-
ively about their own sexual orientation.
Evidence that both types of panels promote self-reflexivity was revealed
when one heterosexual student wrote, "I have homosexual friends, lesbi-
ans, whom I've talked with about why they are the way they are, but
never before have I exa1nined so much the question, why I am the way I
am. Another student responded,
11

In total honesty, the lesbian panel made me think about my reasons for being
a heterosexual and whether I have made the right decision. I'm not sure if I
a,n just curious as to what it is like to be a lesbian or if, rnaybe, I ,night have
some tendencies towards being a lesbian- I'1n just not sure now- and this
forces me to really think about it.

A third student wrote, "I am disappointed in myself that I am fearful of

being labeled lesbian if I associate with lesbian women- same with my
boyfriend and his gay friend- shows a lack of self-estee1n.''
Speakers, activities, and supportive readings not only undermine the
heterosexist-ho1nophobic hegemony that distorts gay and lesbian experi-
ences but also reveal the distortion of heterosexual experiences as well.
This function is characterized in Hortense Spillers's assertion that racial
categories and definitions developed by the dominant group "tell us little
or nothing about the subject buried beneath them, but a great deal more
concerning the psychic and cultural reflexes that invent and invoke
them." 11 Heterosexist and homophobic descriptions of lesbians are more
often expressions of what heterosexuals are not supposed to be, rather
than what lesbians are. Branding lesbians as man haters, for example,
does not describe the experiences of most lesbians but rather serves as a
warning to all women not to step out of line. 12
This form of negative socialization explains the confusion some stu-
dents report between sexual behavior and sexual identification and con-
tributes to their inability to recognize personal feelings that do not fit
into the norm. To define oneself in terms of not being like some devalued
"other" forces a heterosexual to deny any of the qualities or characteris-
tics she or he 1nay have in common with homosexuals. Any recognition
of commonality almost always seems to us to come by way of the back
door: "Homosexuals are just like us" but never "We are just like homo-
sexuals." Making explicit the interdependence of heterosexual and les-
bian identities, by exposing their common yet differently distorted expe-
riences, creates the possibility for relationships and moves classroom
participants beyond a superficial exploration of difference.
166 PEDAGOGICAL PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

We demonstrate homophobia and heterosexism as culturally debilitat-

ing ideas for everyone. By reframing the normative relationships between
homosexuals and heterosexuals, we establish the grounds for a relational
politics that can break down hierarchical oppositions inherent in the
modern construction of sexual identities. In the process of cultivating an
explicit interconnectedness, panelists and students find common ground.
Panelists draw on the standard of fairness, rhetorically offered to all
people through the dominant discourse on democratic ideals, as their
leverage for criticizing the failure of our democracy to extend equal
rights to lesbians. 13 Students generally respond affirmatively to appeals
to the rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. One student
wrote, "Lesbians aren't asking for special rights or privileges just the op-
portunity to live within mainstream society without being harassed or
discriminated against solely because of their sexual orientation."
Yet other students affirm individual choice while denouncing homo-
sexuality. Typical remarks of this position are "No I don't agree/identify
with it, but I don't condemn those who do. I believe in freedom of choice in
any situation." Another student wrote, "I do not condone homosexuality-
that has not changed; however, I feel even more strongly that their rights
should be protected. I don't feel I have to support what they do, but I do feel
a responsibility to make sure I do not discriminate against them." This
contradiction reflects an implicit hazard in holding the dominant ideology
accountable for its promises. When efforts to change stereotypical concep-
tions occur on hegemonic terrain, lesbians will experience assimilation
pressures in order to be recognized as "normal" and "human" and, there-
fore, entitled to basic human rights.
Often, lesbian speakers are acutely aware of editing their personal
narratives in order to build emotional bridges between themselves and
resistant audiences. Maran relates her frustration with the pressure to
sanitize:
As we speak in measured, reasonable tones, another voice begins to speak-
and then to yell- inside me. This voice knows half-truths are lies. This voice
won't joke or equivocate or prettify; it won't tell "fairy tales" with politically
correct endings; it wants the truth to be known. 14
Once again, the tension of validating the lesbian identity as fully human
while repairing and rebutting stereotypes can promote defensive protec-
tionism on the part of speakers. Allowing lesbian experiences to be
evaluated by dominant perceptions of normality and happiness is a risky
undertaking; consequently, many lesbian and gay speakers, scholars, and
activists insist upon deconstructing compulsory heterosexuality first. 15
In sum, teaching about sexuality humanely and holistically through
the use of lesbian and heterosexual panels, coming-out stories, oral his-
tories, role playing, and films provides a useful opportunity to excavate
 SHIFT TO THE POLITICS OF IDENTITY 167

social contradictions in the construction of sexual identities. 16 Our anal-

ysis leads us to believe that several important outcomes are possible
with this approach. Lesbians come to be seen as total human beings; the
costs of homophobia and heterosexism are identified for everyone; defini-
tions of sexuality that privilege some at the expense of others are chal-
lenged; and the notion of normality is prob1ematized.
At the same time we are aware of the potential such a project has for
undermining the rationale so1ne lesbians and gay 1nen may feel for a po-
litical move1nent based on sexual identity. A similar paradox exists for
wo1nen and has been expressed by Linda Alcoff when she asks social con-
' structionists, "How do we ground a feminist politics that deconstructs
the female subject?" 17 We could similarly ask, How do ,.ve ground a sexual
politics that deconstructs sexual identity? And how do we ground a sex-
ual politics that incorporates the interests of those with multiple margin-
alized identities? Our conceptualization of individuals within their his-
torical and social contexts is enhanced when we understand people in
relationship to one another, rather than exclusively in relationship to a
distorted meaning i1nposed on their bodies. 18 As the lesbian and hetero-
sexual panels illustrate, these intrapersonal and interpersonal consider-
ations are paramount in creating n1eaning in our lives and should also be
paramount in our teaching, politics, and scholarship. Placing people in
the context of their community allows for multiple constellations of in-
teractive meanings, including disparities in power. Our experiences in
the introductory classroom leads us to believe that we should shift the
emphasis fro1n identity politics, for example, fitting everyone into the
center, to the politics of identity or the questioning of why the center
should be privileged.
Despite its debatable usefulness, it would be ilnpractical to abandon
the concept of identity politics. 19 The inequitable exercise of power based
on ranking social differences creates material, psychological, and social
oppression that cannot be ignored. Rather, it is imperative that teachers
reject the dominant discourse on sexual identities and instead create a
space where students may explore how they name themselves. We must
offer students both resistance and relationally based strategies for engag-
ing in personal and social change-resistance against rigid categoriza-
tion and a simultaneous sense of community with the diversity inherent
in humanity. 20

Notes
Portions of this paper were published under the title "Teaching College Students
about Sexual Identity from a Feminist Perspective," in Sexuality and the Cur-
riculum, ed. Ja1nes T. Sears !New York: Teachers College Press, 1992).
168 PEDAGOGICAL PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

1. The course enrolls about fifteen hundred students a year, one-fourth of

whom are men, and 12 percent of whom are students of color. The authors
frequently have taught the course at the Ohio State University.

2. For a fuller discussion of these issues, see Carole S. Vance, "Social Con-
struction Theory: Problems in the History of Sexuality," in Homosexuality,
Which Homosexuality!, ed. Dennis Altman (London: GMP Publisher, 1989),
13-34; Steven Epstein, "Gay Politics, Ethnic Identity: The Limits of Social
Constructionism," Socialist Review 17 (May-August 1987): 9-54; Scott Brav-
mann, "Invented Traditions: Take One on the Lesbian and Gay Past," NWSA
fournal 3 (Winter 1991): 81-92. We are particularly aware of feminist con-
cerns about the political paralysis associated with constructionist argu-
ments and the universalizing tendencies of essentialism.

3. Ruth Baetz, Lesbian Crossroads: Personal Stories of Lesbian Struggles and

Triumphs (New York: Morrow, 1980); Martha Barron Barret, Invisible Lives:
The Truth about Millions of Women Loving Women (New York: Morrow,
1989); Margaret Cruikshank, The Lesbian Path (Tallahassee, FL.: Naiad
Press, 1980), and Lesbian Studies (New York: Feminist Press, 1982); Loralee
MacPike, There's Something I've Been Meaning To Tell You (Tallahassee,
FL.: Naiad Press, 1989); Julia Penelope and Sarah Valentine, Finding the Les-
bians: Personal Accounts from around the World (Freedom, CA.: Crossing
Press, 1990).

4. Audre Lorde, Sister Outsider (Freedom, CA.: Crossing Press, 1984); Gloria
Anzaldua, ed., Making Face, Making Soul Hacienda Caras: Creative and
Critical Perspectives of Women of Color (San Francisco: Aunt Lute Founda-
tion, 1990); Barbara Smith, ed., Home Girls: A Black Feminist Anthology
(New York: Kitchen Table Press, 1983); Cherrie Moraga and Anzaldua, eds.
This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color (Water-
town, MA.: Persephone Press, 1981); Faith Conlon, Rachel da Silva, and Bar-
bara Wilson, The Things that Divide Us (Seattle: Seal Press, 1986); Janet
Zandy, Calling Home: Working-Class Women's Writings (New Brunswick,
NJ.: Rutgers University Press, 1990).

5. Carroll Smith-Rosenberg, ''The Female World of Love and Ritual: Relations

between Women in Nineteenth-Century America, Signs 1 (Winter 1975):
1-29; John D'Emilio, "Capitalism and Gay Identity," in Powers of Desire: The
Politics of Sexuality, ed. Ann Snitow, Christine Stansell, and Sharoq. Thomp-
son (New York: Monthly Review, 1984), 101-13; Lillian Faderman, Surpassing
the Love of Men: Romantic Friendship and Love between Women from the
Renaissance to the Present (New York: William Morrow, 1981); Martin Ou-
berman, Martha Vicious, and George Chauncey, eds., Hidden from History:
Reclaiming the Gay and Lesbian Past (New York: Meridian Press, 1989).

6. Meredith Maran, "Ten for Bravery, Zero for Common Sense: Confessions of
a Speakers Bureau Speaker," Outlook 7 (Winter 1990): 70.
SHIFT TO THE POLITICS OF IDENTITY 169

7. Panelists are not professional speakers or activists. Most are fonner stu-
dents, friends, or relatives of instructors. The emphasis is on selecting pan-
elists who represent cultural and social diversity, not a particular political
perspective. This diversity affords students the opportunity to co1npare
fe1ninist analyses of sexuality with lived experience .

8. Quotations in this essay are from students who were enrolled in the course,
Introduction to Women's Studies, spring quarter 1990 at the Ohio State Uni-
versity, Columbus, Ohio.

9. Lynn Weber Cannon, " Fostering Positive Race, Class, and Gender Dynam-
ics in the Classroom," Women's Studies Quarterly 18 (Spring-Summer 1990):
126- 34.

10. For other discussions on homophobia in the classroom, see Allison Berg,
Jean Kowaleski, Caroline LeGuin, Ellen Weinauer, and Eric Wolfe, "Break-
ing the Silence: Sexual Preference in the Con1position Classroo111," Femi-
nist Teacher 4 (Fall 1989): 29- 32; David Bleich, "Homophobia and Sexisn1 as
Popular Values," Feminist Teacher 4 (Fall 1989): 21-28; Laurie Crumpacker
and Eleanor M. Vander Haegen, "Pedagogy and Prejudice: Strategies for Con-
fronting Ho1nophobia in the Classroom," Wo1nen 's Studies Quarterly 15
(Fall-Winter 1987): 65-73.

11. Hortense J. Spillers, "Notes on an Alternative Model-Neither/Nor," in The

Difference Within: Feminism and Critical Theory, ed. Elizabeth Meese and
Alice Parker (Philadelphia: John Benja1nins, 1989), 166.

12. Suzanne Pharr, Homophobia : A Weapon of Sexism (Little Rock, AK.: Char-
don Press, 1988).

13. For discussions of social change through the standards of do1ninant dis-
course, see Joan Scott, "Deconstructing Equality-Versus-Difference: Or, the
Uses of Poststructuralist Theory for Feminism," Feminist Studies 14 (Spring
1988): 33-59; and E. Frances Wh ite, "Africa on My Mind: Gender, Counter
Discourse and African-American Nationalism," fournal of Women's His-
tory 2 (Spring 1990): 73-97.

14. Maran, "Ten for Bravery," 71.

15. Mariana Valverde, "Beyond Gender Dangers and Private Pleasures: Theory
and Ethics in the Sex Debates," Feminist Studies 15 (Summer 1989): 237-54;
Jonathan Ned Katz, "The Invention of Heterosexuality," Socialist Review
20 (January-March 1990): 7-34.

16. There are a number of i1nportant jou rnals that regularly publish scholarly
articles and book reviews about gays and lesbians. These include fournal of
the History of Sexuality, a new journal located at Bard College; fou rnal of
170 PEDAGOGICAL PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

Gay and Lesbian Psychotherapy; fournal of Homosexuality; NWSA four-

nal; Signs; Lesbian Ethics; Conditions; Common Lives/Lesbian Lives; Sin-
ister Wisdom; Socialist Review; and the Women's Review of Books. In addi-
tion, there are two multipurpose publications that serve as resources for gay
and lesbian studies: Empathy: An Interdisciplinary fournal for Persons
Working to End Oppression on the Basis of Sexual Identity and Matrices:
Lesbian Feminist Resource Network, published by the Department of Wom-
en's Studies at the University of Minnesota. The last two contain archival
reports; dissertation summaries; research reports; book, film, and video re-
views; bibliographies for resource materials; creative products; conference
calls; curricular and workshop guides; and reports from lesbian and gay re-
search centers. Most professional associations now have gay and lesbian
caucuses that publish newsletters, conduct research on the status of gays
and lesbians in the professions, and organize sessions at professional meet-
ings. These groups can also be a valuable resource.

17. Linda Alcoff, "Cultural Feminism vs. Post Structuralism: The Identity Cri-
sis in Feminist Theory," Signs 13 (Spring 1988): 405-36.

18. John De Cecco and Michael G . Shively, "From Sexual Identity to Sexual
Relationships: A Contextual Shift," fournal of Homosexuality 9 (1984):
1-26.

19. L.A. Kauffman, "The Anti-Politics of Identity," Socialist Review 20 (1990):

67-80.

20. Dale M. Bauer, "The Other 'F' Word: The Feminist in the Classroom," Col-
lege English 52, no. 4 (1990): 385-96.
CHAPTER ELE VEN

The Protest as a Teaching Technique

for Promoting Feminist Activism

SUZANNA ROSE

Women's studies courses have been hugely successful at facilitating the

personal growth of students, including changing attitudes about gender
roles, enhancing feelings of personal worth, increasing career goals, and
developing an awareness of women's common oppression.' A major chal-
lenge, however, that feminist faculty continue to face even in established
wo1nen's studies programs is how to 1notivate students to strive for so-
cial, as well as personal, change. A raised consciousness does not auto-
matically lead to rabble-rousing. Feminist faculty 1nore than ever need to
develop classroom techniques that specifically pro1note activism, par-
ticularly because women's studies now provides a safe haven for fe1ni-
nists on 1nany ca1npuses, making it less necessary for students (and fac-
ulty!) to agitate for social change in the university and co1nmunity. In
addition, even students dedicated to fe1ninist goals 1nay lack the experi-
ence and skills required to translate their co1n1nitment into action. The
future of fe1ninis1n will be affected, in part, by our ability to help stu-
dents becorne activists and leaders.
How 1night advocacy and action be encouraged in the women's studies
classroom? At the suggestion of Joyce Trebilcot from Washington Uni-
versity, I decided to 1nake a "protest" part of the require1nent for my
upper-level course, Theories of Fe1ninisn1. I chose an upper-level course
for this experiment because many students in lower-level courses are be-
ing exposed to feminist thought for the first time and have not under-
gone the personal growth that precedes action. Seven of the eight stu-
dents enrolled held women's studies certificates, and all had taken at
least one women's studies course. A range of characteristics was repre-
sented in the group: five students (two black, three ,vhite) were hetero-
sexual women in their twentiesi three were white lesbians (one in her
twenties and two in their forties ). All labeled themselves as feminists.
The assignment was to "Protest sexism, racism, homophobia, or any
other 'ism' related to feminist thought in one situation." The protest
could be done by writing a letter of complaint to the perpetrator or one
"to the editor," by confronting the in stitution or person directly, by orga-
nizing a picket or leafleting or letter-writing campaign, or by any other
creative means. Students were to discuss their ideas for a protest with
the class and to write a two-page paper describing the action and their

Originally published in the Spring 1989 issue of the NWSA Journa l

172 PEDAGOGICAL PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

feelings about it. Fulfillment of the protest requirement was worth 10

percent of the student's grade. Full credit was given for completion of the
assignment in any form. "Quality" of the protest was not assessed in or-
der to keep the assignment as nonthreatening as possible and to encour-
age nonhierarchical student-teacher relations.
Overall, the protest assignment was highly successful. On entering
the class, six students had never been involved in any social action. They
had never written a letter of complaint or verbally protested sexism, rac-
ism, or homophobia, and none had ever been invoved in a collective pro-
test action. By the end of the semester, five of the novice activists had
taken a stand on an issue they cared about deeply (or at least, moderately),
as had the two experienced lesbian activists.
The protests ranged from those in the time-honored traditions of
marching and petitioning to letter-writing. One novice protester, a young
black woman, got heavily involved in the campaign to stop Robert Bork,
the right-wing ideologue, from being appointed to the Supreme Court.
She learned of Bork's racism and sexism in class discussions and began
her protest by asking all her friends and neighbors to sign and mail anti-
Bork postcards to their legislators. Enraged by the continued support of
Bork by the conservative Republican senators from Missouri, she drew
her mother into her protest, and they wrote additional letters of com-
plaint to the Missouri senators. This student also helped the National
Abortion Rights Action League (NARAL) in a petition-signing drive to
defeat Bork. Over the course of the semester, she became more knowl-
edgeable about the importance of Supreme Court appointments, more
identified with the anti-Bork campaign, and more comfortable being in
the midst of a battle. Most important, she expressed a sense of personal
victory with the defeat of the Bork nomination, writing in her paper,
"Many people say it is impossible to beat the system and most of the
time it is. But every now and then you can win. I'm lucky. I've won my
first fight, and I hope to win many more."
Other protests included organizing picketing to protest a court deci-
sion that denied custody to a lesbian mother, participating in the 1987
Gay and Lesbian March on Washington aimed at repealing sodomy laws,
complaining to networks about sexist television programming, protest-
ing the handling by local police of a youth gang's attack on a s.tudent's
car, challenging the institutionalized pressure to date and marry at a
Christian university, and protesting a "sexy legs" contest held on cam-
pus. Two students also wrote letters of praise, one to Working Assets, an
investment company, for promoting socially responsible investing, and
one to a local news station, which had broadcast an excellent weeklong
segment on battered women.
A few students made the decision to get more involved when their ini-
tia.l protests were ineffective or received an unsatisfactory response; for
PROTEST AS A TEACHING TECHNIQUE 173

example, the young white wo1nan angered about the sexy legs contest
decided to investigate the decision-making process and funding for these
events. When she learned it was not a campus-sponsored activity, she
nonetheless pressured student and faculty representatives of the Univer-
sity Senate to challenge Student Affairs for not censuring the event. She
also wrote an article for the women's studies newsletter about the con-
test and resolved to get involved the following year in the Student Affairs
co1nmittee that reviews such events. Likewise, the white student who
protested police unwillingness to file a report on gang violence and who
co1nplained about racist co1nments the police made about the youths,
refused to withdraw her co1nplaint against the officer despite pressure
and a visit from the police to her ho1ne. She eventually was sent a letter
of apology from the police captain indicating that new procedures for
dealing with similar incidents were now in effect.
Only one student had considerable difficulty with the assignment and
did not complete it as originally defined. She cared about feminist issues
but could not think of a target for protest. The group shared their experi-
ences and tried to help her pinpoint an issue, but she floundered until the
very end of the semester. The idea of complaining made her anxious; she
often missed class. Finally, I proposed that she initiate a positive action if
she could not develop a protest and urged her to speak out in praise of an
event or institution she viewed as particularly egalitarian or nonsexist.
Even this was hard for her to do, but she at last wrote a very substantive
letter of praise to a local news station for their series on battered
wo1nen.
The 1nerits of using the protest as an assignment in wo1nen1s studies
classes, based on this one trial, are threefold. First, it helped students
translate vague dissatisfactions about "the way things are" into specific
issues and targets. One effect women's studies courses have had is to
1nake students aware of how pervasive sexism is; however, this outcome
also often depresses 1notivation for action. By encouraging students to
identify a concrete target of sexism and to act against it, the chinks in
the structure become visible.
Second, planning a protest, even if it is only letter writing, teaches
students political strategy. Students considered and discussed who was
responsible for a specific oppression, where the best outlets were for their
messages, and what issues and strategies made the best use of their en-
ergy. Should the protest be aimed at the television station manager or the
advertisers or both? Should co1nplaints be addressed to the police captain
or the mayor? Was there enough community support for leafleting or
picketing? Many ideas were discarded after discussion or were started
and then abandoned; for exa1nple1 one black woman considered protest-
ing a local automotive-supply store where her boyfriend shopped because
pictures of nude wo1nen were hanging all over the store. After the group
174 PEDAGOGICAL PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

discussed this idea, she decided to reject it because not enough women
shopped at the store for her protest to appeal to them; she also thought
any public protest might give the store free publicity and improve its
business. Another student, a white woman on an athletic scholarship,
began investigating why women's sports were so poorly funded by the
university. She was unable to get access to budget information and was
stonewalled by the coaches and athletic director, so she eventually gave
up on the idea. These "failures" were learning experiences in themselves,
helping the women evaluate initial ideas, carefully strategize, and prepare
to cope with frustration.
The third advantage of the protest assignment was its effect on stu-
dents' feelings of efficacy. Even when a student did not achieve the out-
come she desired or did not receive any response to her actions, the act
of protesting was empowering. The peer-group norm that was created
supported each woman's right to be annoyed, disgusted, or outraged at
oppression and to do something about it. The peer support was crucial,
particularly for students with friends, family, or boyfriends who ridi-
culed or discouraged their anger.
Two problems associated with the protest assignment did arise, how-
ever, that require faculty preparation. First, even after teaching women's
studies courses for more than ten years, I was surprised by the anxiety and
uncertainty the assignment generated among students. I was well aware of
how difficult it is to get students lor anyone) involved in social action but
still could not comprehend what obstacles prevented some students from
focusing on an issue, given the availability of countless worthy causes. I
was frustrated by their unspoken desire for me to tell them what to do.
In using this teaching technique, one should be prepared to give sugges-
tions but also to avoid making decisions for students.
The second problem concerned the need for me, as teacher, to gauge
the consequences of the protest for both the student and myself. Inexpe-
rienced students frequently are unaware of the depths of misogyny in
our society and are personally devastated by an antifeminist backlash.
In addition, not all students have the emotional strength to be non-
conformists; for example, the student who protested the sexy legs contest
was very upset when a hostile male student's response to her was pub-
lished. She also was quite distraught about a negative personal ad some-
one placed in the paper about her. She wanted to respond by picketing the
event. Her distress concerning the backlash alarmed me, however, and I
discouraged her from picketing when she could not arouse sufficient
support for the action from other students. In my judgment, she was not
able by herself to handle the hostility picketing would generate. In class,
other strategies were suggested, which she later pursued. Thus, it is cru-
cial that the teacher encourage students to anticipate all possible personal
co_nsequences of a protest and to evaluate their ability to accept those
PROTEST AS A TEAC HIN G TE C HNIQUE 175

consequences. If necessary, the teacher should discourage a student from

a protest that might be too costly for him or her.
Likewise, I had to consider whether I was prepared to accept the re-
sponsibility for the outco1ne of this assignment. I had no idea where stu-
dents' imaginations would lead them in terms of identifying an injustice
but was aware they could select issues that were potentially embarrass-
ing to the university or my department. I was willing to back my stu-
dents on any worthy cause because I have tenure and knew that negative
sanctions would be social, not economic. I was ready to live with social
disapproval, if necessary; however, untenured faculty would be at greater
risk in terms of job security and should honestly evaluate what costs they
can sustain.
In conclusion, the protest was a highly effective teaching technique
for promoting fe1ninist activism, particularly in an upper-level wo1nen's
studies class. The technique probably also could be adapted for lower-
level courses, if made an option for earning course credit. The protest
taught students how to speak out when their rights or values were vio-
lated. Making the protest a course requirement legitimized political ac-
tion as a form of "scholarship" and provided opportunities for putting
theory into action. It also had the added advantage of rewarding students
already active in the movement by valuing and giving credit for their
ongoing activities. If "passivity is the dragon each woman must slay in
her quest for independence," as Jill Johnston claimed in the 1970s, then
the protest is truly the teaching technique that can make that happen.

Notes
This paper was presented at the National Women's Studies Association confer-
ence, Minneapolis, Minn., June 1988.

l. Barbara W. Bennett and George S. Grosser, " Moven1ent Toward Androgyny

in College Fe1nales Through Experiential Education," [ournal of Psychology
107 (March 1981): 177-83; Jayne E. Stake and Margaret A. Gerner, "The
Women's Studies Experience: Personal and Professional Gains for Women
and Men," Psychology of Women Quarterly 11 (Septe1nber 1987): 277-84.
CHAPTER TWELVE

Women's Studies on Television? It's Time

for Distance Learning

ANNIS H. HOPKINS

Standing in line at Wendy's, my daughter nudges me in the ribs. "That

guy keeps looking at us," she whispers.
"What guy?"
"That one over there. The one who looks like my grandpa."
Our food in hand, we head for an empty table in the corner. The el-
derly gentleman's eyes follow our progress, and as we near him, he raises
his hand, tentatively, like a student unsure of his ground.
"Are you .. . aren't you ... the lady that teaches on the TV?"
I stop. "I might be, yes; I do."
"You see there, Martha. I told you it was her." His head swivels. "I told
her it was you. And this must be your daughter." Swivels again. "She
talks about you all the time. Oh, don't worry. It's all good." Swivel. "It's
her daughter, Martha. See, I told you." Back to me. "I've been watching
your class for two years and I just love it. Don't I Martha? Don't I tell you
about it all the time? Don't I?"

It happens all the time-at Wendy's, at the grocery store, the mall, the
bookstore. My students lovingly call our time together "The Annis Win-
frey Show," and we have a cadre of faithful viewers that let me know
they haven't gotten tired yet of hearing about "women in contemporary
American society," even though they watch the "same old class" semes-
ter after semester. Some of then1 are channel surfers who've caught our
curl, some have actually gone looking for "the educational channel," and
some are even former students checking up on me, but they all come to-
gether on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons (or set their VCRs) to hear
and see what the issue of the day will be.
Of course, there are registered students watching, too, about ninety
each semester, most of them full-time workers who videotape "the show"
and then invite me into their living rooms in the evening or on Sunday
afternoon, with husband, wife, kids, and neighbors buzzing through to
comment and argue with what "that crazy lady is saying this time."
For the past five years, I've been teaching the only live-cablecast intro-
ductory women's studies survey course in my region, and, in light of my
research, perhaps the only course of its kind in the United States and
Canada.

Originally published in the Summer 1996 issue of the NWSA Journal.

W OME N 'S STUDIES ON TELEVISION 177

Why am I the only one? I have some ideas about the reasons. Equip-
ment needs, lack of vision on the part of distance-learning departments,
resistance to women's studies, and women's studies progra1ns' own re-
luctance to participate may be obstacles that must be overcome. Con-
cerns grounded in fe1ninist pedagogy about conducting courses in a lec-
ture format without direct interaction are valid but not insurmountable.
In this chapter I offer some strategies that have been working in my class
in the hope that more women's studies faculty will take the plunge. A
course containing a balance of theory with personal narrative offered by
the teacher, a selection of exciting guest speakers, and the students them-
selves raises consciousness and leads students into analysis and skills
that will permanently enhance their lives, whether they are in a tradi-
tional classroo1n or not.

D istance-Learning Methods and Programs

Typically, distance-learning technology fonns a part of a university's
extended-education progra1n. 1 Technologies such as cable television, pub-
lic television, radio broadcast, satellite transmission, co1nputer confer-
encing, audio- and videocassette, audio and audiographic conferencing,
interactive audio and video, teleconferencing, and elect ronic 1nail

serve adult students for whom distance is just one of several barriers to educa-
tion, along with limited time, work and family commitments, and con-
strained financial resources. Distance education affords students greater con-
trol over where they study, and often, how long they take to co,nplete a
course. (The Electronic University 1993, xiii)

My students fit this national profile of students who can't get to campus.
For example, nearly every se1nester, I have at least one brand-new mom
who is homebound by health or by choice; I can't imagine a better way to
start life than by having a budding feminist for a mom!

Women's Studies via Distance Learning

Current Courses
Very few women's studies classes are currently being offered via distance
learning.2 The standard distance-learning guides list only four. 3 In May
1995, I posted a request for more information to the Internet via the Wom-
en's Studies List and the Distance Learning List sponsored by the Western
Interstate Commission for Higher Education Teleco1n1nunications Coop-
erative. My e-mail respondents referred to electronic discussion groups,
178 PEDAGOGICAL PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

teleconferencing, Internet lists, video, and compressed-video courses rather

than live courses like mine.
I received only two responses about current video women's studies
courses. Muriel Oaks, Director, Extended University Services, reports
that Washington State University offers "two video courses W St/Pol S
305, Gender and Politics (3 er) and W St/Mgt 315, Women in Manage-
ment (3 cr)."4 Ellen Rose, Women's Studies, University of Nevada, Las
Vegas, has "just completed the first-ever distance-education women's
studies course in Nevada, a course in feminist theories, !which she
taught] ... via compressed video, to a small group of students !there] and
another small group of students at University of Nevada, Reno." Evi-
dently, while some of us are experimenting with the newer technologies,
women's studies by distance learning is still in its infancy.

Obstacles to Distance Learning for Women's Studies

First, only about three hundred colleges and universities in the United
States are now offering distance education; of these, fewer than one hun-
dred have women's studies programs. 5 Thus it might not be possible to
take women's studies immediately onto live TV everywhere, but 1nost
institutions do have the equipment to begin using video and audio tech-
nologies, even without the support of a formal distance-learning compo-
nent. All it takes is a pioneer willing to be taped and to modify an exist-
ing course.
Second, most current distance-learning course work focuses on tech-
nology itself, rather than on meeting general-education requirements,
especially where funding limits choices in the range of offerings to a par-
ticular audience. Many technology courses are offered primarily because
local employers set up "universities" within their own systems. For ex-
ample, here at Arizona State University (ASU) Main in Tempe, far more
distance courses are offered by the College of Engineering and Applied
Sciences than by other colleges, and many of them go directly to major
corporate centers, such as Motorola. However, distance learning pays for
itself by expanding its services, and proposals are welcomed. Besides,
heads of industry are finally beginning to notice that more of their work-
ers are women. Might they not be interested in learning about contem-
porary American women, especially if their personnel coula attend
classes right in their employees' break room?
Third, women's studies continues to experience resistance on many
campuses. Students still come into my classes fresh from the usual bar-
rage of comments from friends who hear they're taking women's studies:
"They're all a bunch of lesbians over there, you know." "Oh, when did
you become a radical feminist?" "Why isn't there a men's studies class?"
Wary administrators may not wish to have the college or university
WOMEN'S STUDIES ON TELEVISION 179

openly represented by what they identify as our theoretical stances. Tele-

vised courses are one of the most visible outreach vehicles available to a
university, and cautious decision 1nakers are careful to tailor the image
portrayed to the expectations of those to whom they must answer, such
as appropriations com1nittees and alumni organizations. I think it is
time for women's studies advocates to defuse such concerns by inviting
administrators and politicians to visit our programs and classrooms, so
that they 1nay see exactly what goes on. Do we really gain anything by
continuing to allow the popular media to define us in the minds of po-
tential allies? Further, at ASU, the administration places a high priority
on building links with the surrounding co1nmunity; our president tells
us this is a trend sweeping higher education. Women's studies progra1ns
can link with other units on campus in these efforts, increasing our vis-
ibility and making friends outside the academic realm. With or without
distance learning, these are connections wo1nen's studies programs need
to be ma ki ng.

WST 300: Women in Contemporary American Society

The purpose of Women in Contemporary A1nerican Society is to intro-
duce junior-level, general-studies students to the wo1nen's studies
curriculum-specifically, to a fe1ninist analysis of U.S. institutions in
ter1ns of the status and roles of women since World War II. I encourage
students to conceptualize and experience social theory in ,.vays that will
lead them to become active participants in the task of challenging wom-
en's oppression, in other words, we work on consciousness-raising that
will lead to action. 6 On cable, I must also effectively introduce our cur-
riculum to the unidentifiable audience tuning in on any given day; thus
each segment must both conceptualize and concretize its own theoreti-
cal frameworks, being more or less self-contained while maintaining the
integrity and flow of the course.

Teaching WST 300 on Television

WST 300 originates in a studio on ASU's Te1npe ca1npus, where sixty-
two students attend two seventy-five-1ninute classes a week. The studio
is a large lecture hall with a lectern in a pit at the botto1n of tiers of in1-
movable student tables and chairs. Viewers see the lecturer and students
in the classroom, and students 1nust use microphones on their desks so
that the TV audience can hear them; this daily exercise keeps in-studio
class members acutely aware of their "absent" class1nates. A computer
system makes the use of various graphics and other "presentation" pro-
gramming possible, adding a colorful high-tech feel where appropriate.
Pink and yellow graphs don't make women's inco1ne figures any less ap-
palling, but they are more eye-catching than enlarged newspaper print.
180 PEDAGOGICAL PRAC TICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

There are three cameras positioned around the room, one directly in
front of the lectern (for the speaker), one over the speaker's desk (for use
as an overhead projector), and one in the right rear corner of the room (to
provide a wide shot of the entire classroom). The cameras are in fixed
positions and are operated remotely from a tech room located behind a
one-way window to the speaker's left. The technician can manipulate
the cameras to provide close-ups of individual students when they are
talking, so that we are all engaged by a full-face picture on the four
monitors that show us the same picture home viewers are seeing.
While the setup may seem intimidating, teaching in this situation is
not as different from teaching in the regular classroom as one might ex-
pect. There are no teleprompters and no stopwatches, although I do have
to make that final point before the clock ticks and the camera is turned
off. A novice might want to practice a few lectures on video before going
on live, although it isn't really necessary. The essential ingredients are
enthusiasm, a firm grasp of the material, and a willingness to take the
risk.
To my continuing dismay, however, a format primarily based on lec-
tures does work best in this setting, although some degree of general
discussion is possible, provided one response is given at a time; the for-
mat accommodates only extremely brief small-group discussion. We
have no choice but to forgo many of the teaching techniques and tools
that have become part of the feminist pedagogical array, including a low
student-teacher ratio. Another difficulty is that here I cannot "wander,"
except with a very wide shot of the classroom; and students must remain
seated. This structure is especially hard for me, since I prefer to roam
around a classroom talking one-on-one with students.
Also, video clips that I might use in a regular classroom usually can-
not be shown due to copyright restrictions and the limited availability
and expense of broadcast-quality tape. It is possible to secure some per-
missions, if you start early enough and have the necessary funding.
Small-group discussion and in-class team projects are also problem-
atic. For one thing, live television demands that "something" be happen-
ing at a focal point at all times, so extended "dead air space" is unaccept-
able. In a class whose material makes people want to talk, the broadcast
medium's demand for "action" can be intimidating, even frustrating at
times. To meet this challenge, we frequently have exercises in which all
students quietly discuss the topic at hand in small groups, with a camera
trained on only one pair or triad, whose mike is activated. While the din
in the background is distracting, cable students report positive reactions
to being included in such "private" conversations between classmates.
The conscious intention of the on-mike students to draw in and include
the otherwise isolated viewer matters too.
WOMEN ' S STUDIES ON TELEVISION 181

A related difficulty concerns the fact that the cablecast is live; there-
fore anyone who speaks must be rather careful. Not only do FCC rules
prohibit some language that might be appropriate in a nontelevised class-
room, but also speakers must be aware that everything they say is being
cablecast and taped, without any possibility of editing.
On the positive side, live television encourages a level of preparation
that might otherwise not occur. When I'1n paying close attention to ev-
erything that comes out of my mouth, I tend to stick more closely to 1ny
outline and cover the material more completely than I do in so1ne other
situations. Even when I throw in personal anecdotes or get involved in a
heated exchange with students, I take more care than I otherwise might,
to everyone's benefit.
One last issue, the large class size, is familiar to all women's studies
programs that provide "service courses" at a large university; the tele-
vised section is not significantly different from my usual class size. Even
for those accustomed to small numbers, a class of 150 loses some of its
negative impact when it is refrained and welcomed as an opportunity to
reach more people with the messages and analyses of society so impor-
tant to women's studies. After all, if ,-vhat we want to do is change the
world, what better place to start than in people's own living rooms?

Answering Pedagogical Objections to Distance Learning

as a Tool for Women's Studies
Two significant objections to presenting a women's studies curriculum
via live cable television still need to be addressed more fu lly: the resis-
tance to a primarily lecture-only format and the lack of direct interactiv-
ity with students not in the classroom.

Lecture-Format Issues
The lecture as a teaching technique has been identified by so1ne critics
as part and parcel of the "traditional approach" to education that ex-
cluded both wo1nen and information about women from the learning
process. Many feminist teachers have worked to eliminate the lecture as
a primary teaching tool; in fact, at my university, lectures given by the
instructor take up less than half the time in the average women's studies
survey course. Frances Maher and Mary Tetreault (1994) observe that
in traditional approaches, the scholarly expert, having distilled lithe truth"
fro1n the best 1ninds in the field, trans1nits it to students. Students learn ei-
ther through lectures, or by engaging with the professor in a form of so-called
"Socratic" dialogue, in which the professor elicits, through a series of probing
182 PEDAG OG IC AL PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

questions, the right or appropriate answers to the problem posed. Learning is

equated to understanding the material in the terms put forward by the schol-
arly authorities. (8)
When we resort to giving lectures, we may feel that we have somehow
"gone back on" ourselves, but this need not be the case. To be successful
in the distance-learning mode, lectures must and can be reconceptual-
ized and restructured to eliminate the authoritarianism that gave rise to
these critiques. As Maher and Tetreault point out, it is not the method so
much as the motivation that matters. The aim of the pedagogy is key:
Feminist and liberatory pedagogies aim to encourage the students, particu-
larly women, working-class students, and members of underrepresented eth-
nic groups, to gain an education that would be relevant to their concerns, to
create their own meanings, and to find their own voices in relation to the
material. Just as the disciplines are evolving toward multifocal and construc-
tivist forms of knowledge, based on the experiences and viewpoints of all
groups in society and not just the most powerful, so does the enactment of
these new episte1nologies in the classroom draw upon the viewpoints and
experiences of students and teachers in new ways. (9-10)
My cable course embraces most aspects of Maher's and Tetreault's
recommendations. My students regularly include reentry women and
men, working-class students, and members of underrepresented ethnic
groups who might otherwise not be in college at all. The class also draws
a large percentage of more familiar college students; this diversity con-
tributes immeasurably to the character of the learning environment.
In addition, the guest speakers who visit the class bring unique voices
that create a space in which nontraditional students can find their own
voices as well. When one of the first female underground miners in Ken-
tucky spoke about sexual harassment and assault by male coworkers, for
example, at least five other reentry women in the studio shared similar
experiences they had had in the local fire department, at the airport, and
in construction work and thus helped to answer the questions of less-
experienced students in ways I could never have done on my own. Cable
students also reported both personal experiences and new understand-
ings that grew out of the theoretical discussions that surrounded the
speaker's presentation. ,
Our guests have included some quite remarkable speakers, such as
Gretchen Bataille7 and Siera Russell, 8 sharing the past and present pat-
terns of oppression experienced by Native American women in the
United States; two lesbian couples, explaining the effects of external and
internalized homophobia; a sixty-five-year-old woman Mexican Ameri-
can mayor; and a Bosnian American woman who had just spent a year in
the camps where Bosnian Muslim women who have been raped by Ser-
bian Christian soldiers come for assistance.
WOMEN'S STUDIES ON TELEVISION 183

Guests' personal narratives help students to confront oppression as

real, not theoretical, as lived, not imagined. Examining the speakers'
victories over oppression both highlights the oppression and discourages
labeling the guests as victims. Survivors of oppression are inspiring role
models for all of us. In the context of the feminist theoretical frame,-vork,
they challenge students to look beyond preconceptions about the oppres-
sion of women. As one of my distance-learning students wrote:
I must admit that before I enrolled in this course, I believed that most of the
discrimination against women was a thing of the past. However, I soon began
to speak with my family and friends concerning this issue and found that
many of them believed that men were fundamentally superior to women. As a
result, they felt that wo1nen did not deserve equal treat1nent. I was dismayed
that so many people I had known for years had these beliefs .... I now believe
that an enormous amount of oppression continues to exist in our society....
My first reaction was anger. I found it outrageous that so many people felt
that I was in some way inferior to males. I bad several argu1nents with friends
concerning this issue, which only increased my anger. My second reaction
was one of fear. I found it extrernely frightening that so rnany people consid-
ered women second-class citizens. My final and current reaction to the accep-
tance of this information is one of action. I now feel that I a,n able to offer
more accurate advice to 1ny friends when they are in situations where oppres-
sion occurs. In addition, I can identify oppression in my own life more easily
and react accordingly. Although ignorance concerning the existence of op-
pression appears to ,nake life simpler, I feel very fo rtunate to have had the
opportunity to learn of this oppression so that I can take further appropriate
actions.9

This response from a cable student who watched the course on tape shows
that, even without live participation, theoretical fra1neworks brought to
life by the experiences of real people change students' attitudes and in-
spire activism.
During these visits, we in the studio actively engage the guest lectur-
ers. When students see themselves playing a role in analysis, either actu-
ally or vicariously, they see their opinions as critical to the dialogue. As
a result of such conversations, however brief, students learn not to blindly
accept everything people say, including everything their instructors say.
I remind them on an almost daily basis that their responsibility is to de-
velop their own social theory, to collect as many different perspectives
as they can, and then decide for themselves on an ongoing basis which
are most likely to get them what they want in their lives. Students often
articulate these learning processes quite clearly:
I completely accept the proposition that oppression must be challenged ....
In order to obtain social justice, people ,nust fight oppressive structures. This
course has taught me many ways to co1nbat oppression. People rnust ac-
knowledge that oppression exists. We must survive in spite of it. People need
184 PEDAGOGICAL PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

to educate themselves and others about oppression. We must question author-

ity even though our culture opposes it. We must learn to say no to uncomfort-
able situations and refuse to participate in the cycle of oppression. People
need to set goals and meet them. This is important because ending oppres-
sion begins small with individuals.
Thus I have found that lectures can be combined with brief discus-
sions in ways completely consistent with feminist pedagogy to success-
fully present our material.

Interactivity Issues
Classroom interactivity has long been accepted as a positive characteris-
tic by contemporary educators, including members of the collaborative-
learning movement and those advocating feminist pedagogy. In The
Feminist Classroom Maher and Tetreault point out that

what has made feminist pedagogy unique ... has been its attention to the
particular needs of women students and its grounding in feminist theory as
the basis for its multidimensional and positional view of the construction of
classroom knowledge. As Maher puts it in one article, "we need an interac-
tive pedagogy, a pedagogy which integrates student contributions into the
subject matter, just as the subject matter integrates the new material on
women."
One mark of this pedagogy is that learning proceeds at least partly from
the questions of the students themselves and/or from the everyday experi-
ences of ordinary people. (9)

When, after five years in the regular women's studies classroom, I was
initially invited to conduct a women's studies survey course via cable
television, I struggled with the problem of reduced interactivity. Some
direct interaction with cable students is possible. Registered cable stu-
dents may call a restricted-access telephone number during the cablecast
to participate in discussion. Callers bring a fresh voice to the room and
in-studio students perk up to listen, perhaps more carefully than to what
goes on in the room. In-studio responses are most often welcoming and
delighted, making the caller feel that she or he is a vital part of the class;
students who cannot or choose not to call nevertheless reporJ feeling
welcomed into the discussion.
However, the majority of students taking the course on cable video-
tape the class for later viewing, because they work full-time or take other
courses during the live cablecast. Thus our in-depth written communi-
cations serve as the primary link between classroom, teacher, and stu-
dent. Cable students and teacher interact weekly through journaling
(called learning evaluation), study questions that bring together readings
and lectures, and formal essay assignments.
WOMEN 'S STUDIES ON TELEVISION 185

The amount of written work generated in this way is, quite frankly,
mountainous. With a work-study student or TA available only for check-
ing off graded assignments, I devote considerable time to reading and re·
sponding to student materials. I believe this commitment is necessary if
my teaching is to remain consistent with my feminist ideology.
Lack of direct interactivity is a legitimate concern. However, studies
on interactivity in distance-learning situations suggest that actual indi-
vidual interactions with an instructor or with other students may not be
as essential as someti1nes thought. Shuqiang Zhang and Catherine Ful-
ford (1994) "examined relationships between student perceptions of class·
roo1n interaction and the actual amount of time allocated for interaction
in a IO-session interactive television course with an enrollment of 260
students" (58). They found that "students' assessment of overall interac-
tivity was found to be largely based upon their observation of peer par-
ticipation rather than overt personal involvement" (58). In fact, they
concluded that
vicarious interaction- interaction that is observed but involves no direct and
overt participation of the observing student-consistently contributes 1nore to
a person's assess1nent of overall interactivity than his or her own observable
participation in interaction .. .. This provides an empirical basis for a claim
that student perception of overall interactivity is shaped 1nore by the participa-
tory behaviors of the peers than by his or her own share of the action. (62)

Written comments from students in my televised course affirm these

findings. Many report that they feel free to express opinions and to de-
bate the material, even though they 1nay never have actually participated
live in such activity. In fact, some of the liveliest debates in the class de-
velop on paper moving between cable students and me.
Students report that both the theoretical and the physical structures
of the televised course are quite effective in overcoming issues of re-
duced interactivity and meeting the stated goals of women's studies. A
portion of a student's answer to a final exa1n question serves as a repre-
sentative response:
The main reason why I accepted most of the material was the course structure.
This is the first class that I have taken at ASU that requires you to look into
your own self.... This class has enabled me to dig deep into my thoughts, to
evaluate my own social theory, and to open my eyes to many problems that
exist .... !The structure! put the responsibility back onto the students to look at
themselves and apply the material . . . to our own lives. This was accomplished
in a number of ways .... Instead of placing e1uphasis on standardized tests, you
place e1nphasis on hands-on learning. The weekly study questions and learning
evaluations have required me to focus 1nore on what I put into the class. The
method of ... lecture pulls in students to comment and participate ....
Although I have not been in the classroom, but rather in the co1nfort of my own
186 PEDAGOGICAL PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

home, the message conveyed made me feel there. My wife has also learned from
being there as I watch the tapes of your class. Yes, the class has liberated me.
These comments from a young man whom I have never met or spoken to
are similar to those of many other students. A balance of theory and per-
sonal narrative draws students into the women's studies curriculum,
even when they encounter it via television.
It must be noted as well, however, that there's more going on here than
content. I know that my personality helps. Elsewhere in his essay, the
student just quoted makes it clear that a large part of "the method of lec-
ture" is my manner, my ease with the subject matter, and my consistent
unflappability. It is true that neither teaching women's studies nor teach-
ing on television is for the seriously faint of heart, but it's well worth the
effort.
There are other benefits to learning about women's studies at home,
especially on videotape, beyond the obvious advantage to the home-
bound or working student of class availability. Further research to find
out which of these benefits are consistent, and whether they actually
outweigh any disadvantages individual students may encounter is in
order, but what I have already observed has convinced me of the positive
impact of the course materials when students use videotaped class
sessions.
One benefit is that whereas students taking women's studies in a nor-
mal classroom must take notes and experience their reactions to the
materia l "as it goes by," students watching on video may stop the tape,
rewind, listen again, and pick up details they missed the first time. This
means that rather than "missing out," they actually get significantly
more of the course material than students in the classroom. All students
in this class are required to hand in notes covering each class session as
evidence of "attendance." While there is great variation in the compre-
hensiveness of student note taking, it is possible to tell from a cursory
examination which notes were taken on a single run-through of the
material-either in class or viewed live- and which were the result of a
more reflective viewing of the taped broadcast. The physical distance
entailed in the format actually provides more space for meaningful con-
templation than can usually be afforded in-class students.
When a guest speaker presents highly emotional material, ·physical
distance becomes crucial. For example, an incest survivor who regularly
visits during the unit on violence against women provides such an in-
tense experience that most "live" students take very few notes; they
later wish they had, but the opportunity is gone. In contrast, students
who view a taped version of the session usually submit detailed notes,
often interspersed with personal comments; their learning-evaluation
comments also reveal greater depth of analysis.
WOMEN' S STUDIES ON TE LEV IS IO N 187

Again, whereas "live" students may be constrained in their reactions

by the presence and perceived expectations of other students, most of
whom they do not know well, students watching the class in the privacy
of their own homes report they feel free to laugh, cry, express anger,
shout, argue with the speaker, and discuss the n1aterial with family
members or friends. At home there is no need for the false bravado that
students often resort to in the classroom; at ho1ne, they are more able to
"claim" their own reactions to the material. Powerful reactions show up
more clearly in cable students' written work than in that of studio stu-
dents. Like the young man quoted above, many students report i1npor-
tant familial interactions that might not have happened had their entire
experience of the class taken place in a regular classroo1n, especially not
in front of three television cameras.
Writing assignments that are designed to create dialogue between me
and the students provide another key form of interaction. Most text as-
signments are the subject of study questions that ask for both factual
answers and personal responses. The study questions are graded closely
for both content and presentation. In addition, each week students are
asked to evaluate their learning; in these entries, students are to identify
at least one area of disagree1nent with 1naterial they have encountered in
the class and one area of positive learning. They must explain how they
intend to use something from the ,-veek's work to bring their lives 1nore
in line with what they would like them to be. In other words, they must
address, in a journal-like form, the ways in which course information
has affected their personal social theory.
Students undertake two independent projects: a written critical analy-
sis of course-appropriate outside reading and an in-person investigation
of a local agency that serves wo1nen, followed by an essay. Thus each
student must do more than repeat theoretical information on a test in
order to pass the course.
Women in Contemporary American Society ends with an essay-format
final exam that asks students to examine their individual areas of accep-
tance and rejection of course 1naterial (using Patti Lather's [1991] model)l 0
and to articulate their own social theories. The final exa1n is the only
written assignment of the semester on which students do not receive
some form of direct teacher response to their ideas.11
Through the exchange of written materials, especially those that offer
personal opinion-mine as well as theirs-I beco1ne acquainted with
many students as individuals; from their perspective, students routinely
report that they feel well acquainted with me, since they are, after all,
visiting with me in their own living roo1ns on a regular basis. My seem-
ingly personal presence in their hon1es provides a level of bodily proxim-
ity and eye contact (however illusory) rarely available in any regular
188 PEDAGOGICAL PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

classroom. Such a "perception" of interaction, as described above, goes a

long way toward making students feel a part of the class.

Other Benefits of Teaching Women's Studies

on Television
The resources and outreach provided by this class to the women's studies
program, the university, and the community make it well worth the invest-
ment of energy and time required to offer women's studies on television.
Each class session is videotaped in our Video Resources Center, and
copies remain available for student use for two weeks after each class.
Thus it is possible to require "attendance"; students who miss class must
go to the lab and make up the session within that time. The availability
of classes on tape allows every student a kind of guaranteed continuity
that cannot be achieved in a regular classroom. Further, I request a copy
of each session for the women's studies program video collection (at wom-
en's studies' expense); the university retains copyright to the videos, but
the women's studies program has permission to use them in its classes at
our own discretion. Since the sessions are relatively self-contained, they
can be used by other instructors in the event of an illness or other ab-
sence. Video also makes it possible for unusual or difficult-to-schedule
guests-like a former state secretary of Public Instruction, one of the lo-
cal founders of the Gray Panthers, or the head of the Governor's Office
for Women-to be "reused" in other classes.
Finally, we now offer an Independent Study by Correspondence WST 300
package, which uses a set of the TV tapes, available to students anywhere
the mail goes. This course is much like the ones offered at Washington
State University and the University of Nevada at Reno and at Las Vegas.
Wo1nen's studies stands to benefit profoundly from having our classes
on television. If our mission is to "change the world"-and I tell my
students from the very first day that that is my goal- should we not
consider seriously a medium that takes our message beyond the walls
of our classroo1ns? Not only does a well-conducted course enhance the
reputation of women's studies as a discipline by systematically refuting
the objections put forth in the popular press, but it also mak€s people
who might otherwise not know of its existence aware of women's stud-
ies. Whereas not everyone will come to the university to take our
classes, nearly every home now has a television set. Televising courses
breaks barriers of class and gender in uniquely powerful ways. Increas-
ing our visibility allows people to see what we are really doing in our
programs, replacing myth with firsthand experience. Offering our cur-
riculum on television both brings us students and encourages feminist
WOMEN'S STUDIES ON TELEVISION 189

analysis in the lives of viewers we will never meet. i'Aost important, it

actually makes our curriculum available to the public in ways that
1nake us rnore activists than sirnply the acadernic arrn of the feminist
rnovement.
The university benefits as well in terms of visibility and enhanced
goodwill in the co1nmunity. The conternporary, personal nature of our
material appeals to a wide audience. We can help to represent the univer-
sity as a thoughtful, caring, inviting place. Thus the prograrn, the uni-
versity, and the community benefit from the visibility of Wo1nen in
Contemporary American Society on local television.

Conclusion
Making the case for using television and other distance-learning tech-
nologies in women's stud ies has brought me insights that will beco1ne a
part of all my teaching in the future. It would be good for all of us to ex-
amine "how we do things" regularly. We should ask ourselves, What is it
that we wish to achieve in our courses, particularly in the large survey
sections that serve the university by 1neeting general-studies require-
ments for graduation? What evidence do we have that our methods are
effective? Although certain aspects of these questions deserve a great
deal 1nore research, 1ny experience has revealed that it is possible to
bridge even the actual physical distance between my podium and a stu-
dent's living room. As one reentry woman student co1nmented1
This material has enriched 1ny life and taught 1ne to think in new and differ-
ent ways. It has led me to be concerned with social justice for everyone. It has
provided me with a chance to express my feelings and opinions about society
and human nature. The info rn1ation has taught n1e to be more open-
minded . . .. It has also inspired me to take action. I am very angry that soci-
ety is full of oppressive structures .... We must take action.
Other students focus more on their personal growth:
This class ... has taught 1ne to think differently and to look at things from a
different perspective. But what I have found most enlightening is a greater
understanding of myself as an individual. This class came to me at a perfect
time in my life. Because of this class, I now have a better sense of who I am,
what I am about, and what n1y goals are for the future.
I am convinced that a mix of feminist theory and personal narrative not
only works to overcome the initia l resistance of students and nonregis-
tered viewers to the women's studies curriculum but also leads them to
exa1nine their lives as they have never done before. They learn that
parts of their society are ugly, but they also learn that they can commit
190 PEDAGOGICAL PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

to not being ugly to each other. They learn that as caring, thinking hu-
man beings, they can contribute to the amelioration of the human
condition.
I urge women's studies teachers, whatever their fears, to make our
transformative curriculum available through distance learning. If framed
appropriately, the material speaks for itself. It's time to move beyond
the confines of our classrooms into the technology of the twenty-first
century.

Notes
1. Extended education includes evening and weekend classes both on and off
campus, adult continuing-education programs, and correspondence study,
as well as distance learning using technologies. While the 298 universities,
colleges, community colleges, consortiums, public-broadcasting stations,
and statewide telecommunications services listed in Oryx Press's 1994
Guide to Distance Learning by William Burgess (1994) offer a wide variety
of course work, six subject areas predominate: accounting, business admin-
istration, computer science, engineering, nursing, and teacher education.
Counted as one area, liberal arts forms a seventh category with myriad
courses.

2. Written reports are scarce. A relevant article with an excellent Canadian-

emphasis bibliography is "Tele-communication: Women's Studies through
Distance Education" by Helen Lenskyj (1991), who teaches at the Ontario
Institute for Studies in Education and writes about Canadian efforts to reach
women living in remote areas. Lenskyj cites several other sources. One of
my respondents, Janet Baldwin, a graduate student in Adult and Continuing
Education at the University of Saskatchewan, is conducting research there,
with a special interest in compressed video.

3. The Electronic University has none, and the Oryx guide identifies these:
Introduction to Women's Studies (University of Nevada, Reno-audio- and
videocassette); Northern Minnesota Women: Myths and Realities (Univer-
sity of Minnesota-audiocassette); and Women in Western Culture and
Women in Judaism (University of Arizona-live broadcast). According to U
of A Video Services, their two courses were taught only once, and the tapes
were not retained. ·

4 . "They include 15 video lessons, an extensive course guide with readings and
lessons, and interaction via voice mail and/or e-mail with the instructor"
(e-mail from Muriel Oaks).

5. This number was obtained by cross-referencing the distance-learning guide-

books with the National Women's Studies Association's 1990 directory; the
WOMEN'S STUDIES ON TELEVISION 191

overlap has likely increased somewhat with the proliferation of distance-

learning technologies.

6. We define social theory as follows: a set of statements about how the world
is, how it got to be that way, and how it ought to be changed, from a particu-
lar perspective, with a particular focus.

7. Gretchen Bataille's relevant texts include American Indian Women: A

Guide to Research (New York: Garland, 1991), American Indian Women:
Telling Their Lives 11984 Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press,), and Na -
tive American Women: A Biographical Dictionary (New York: Garland,
1993).

8. Siera Russell is a Yavapai-Apache attorney working in the Indian Legal Pro-

gram, College of Law, Arizona State University.

9. All of the anony1nous student coinments cited here are taken frorn written
materials subn1itted by students in the spring 1995 cablecast WST 300
section.

10. In her chapter entitled "Staying Du1nb? Student Resistance to Liberatory

Curriculum," Lather (1991) explains that students either accept or reject op-
positional infonnation linfonnation that is different fro1n what they already
accept as true, information that challenges their belief systems). She further
describes acceptance as taking several possible directions: it can be burden-
some, leading to hopelessness and fear, it can lead to anger, or it can be lib-
erating, leading to action. For this final exarn, students are asked to choose
specific areas of "oppositional in formation" and place themselves in Lather's
schema (127).

11. Paper exchanges are conducted in two ways. First, students who are on can1-
pus regularly may d rop off and pick up assignments in the women's studies
program office where the staff maintains a confidential file. Students who
do not come to cainpus, perhaps a third of those registered via cable, mail
assignments weekly. Mailing Iny responses back to them is the 1najor ex-
pense the distance-learning format presen ts to the women's studies
program.

Works Cited
Burgess, William E. The Oryx Guide to Distance Learning. Phoenix: Oryx P,
1994.
The Electronic University: A Guide to Distance Learning. Princeton. NJ: Peter-
son's Guides, 1993.
Lather, Patti. Getting Smart: Feminist Research and Pedagogy with/in the Post-
modern . N ew York: Routledge, 1991.
192 PEDAGOGICAL PRACTICES IN THE FEMINIST CLASSROOM

Lenskyj, Helen. "Tele-communication: Women's Studies through Distance Edu-

cation." Resources for Feminist Research 20 (1991): 11-12.
Maher, Frances, and Mary Kay Thompson Tetreault. The Feminist Classroom:
An Inside Look at How Professors and Students Are Transforming Higher
Education for a Diverse Society. New York: HarperCollins, 1994.
NWSA Directory of Women's Studies Programs, Women's Centers, and Wom-
en's Research Centers. College Park: University of Maryland Press, 1990.
Zhang, Shuqiang, and Catherine P. Fulford. "Are Interaction Time and Psycho-
logical Interactivity the Same Thing in the Distance Learning Television
Classroom?" Educational Technology, July-Aug. 1994: 58-64.
PART III Race Matters: Intersectional Analyses
of Classroom Dynamics
CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"I Was (So) Busy Fighting Racism That I Didn't Even

Know I Was Being Oppressed as a Woman!"
Challenges, Chan ges, and Empowerment
in Teaching about Women of Color

LILI M. KI M

Women's Studies as a discipline has undergone tre1nendous changes since

its begin ning in the 1970s, and it continues to transfor1n in innovative
ways. According to the 1999 National Wo1nen's Studies Association
(NWSA) Task Force, the issue of diversifying faculty and course offerings
continues to be at the heart of the new initiatives of women's studies
programs and depart1nents across the country: "Women's Studies has
developed its theory base by examining the interconnected effects of
race, class, sexuality, physical ability, region, and ethnicity on women's
lives, and attracts a diverse range of students. Therefore, including as
part of the core curriculum courses that bring racism, classisn1, ho-
mophobia, and other vectors of wo1nen's oppression into focus continues
to hold priority in progra1n development nationally" (1999).
Critical race theory (CRT) has both broadened and sharpened feminist
thought by diversifying women's studies curricula. CRT began with sev-
eral i1nportant premises that profou ndly altered fe1ninist understanding
of social reality: that racis1n is the norm, not the exception, in American
society; that our current cultural construction of reality must be chal-
lenged with antiracist rhetoric and agenda; and, lastly, that liberalis1n
1nust be critiqued for it may have done more good for whites than people
of color (Delgado 1995). How all of these translate into feminist pedagogy
and thought is co1nplex, but one of the most significant analytical re-
sults is the development of the "intersectionality" of different identities
as a central site for exa1nining the lives of wo1nen of color (Crenshaw
1997). As Angela P. Harris has argued, in a world where "gender essen-
tialis1n" and "racial essentialism" exist, "black wo1nen's experience will
always be forcibly fragmented before being subjected to analysis, as those
who are 'only interested in race' and those who are 'only interested in
gender' take their separate slices of our lives" (1995, 255). In other words,
race and gender studied separately renders an incomplete understanding
of the rea lities of women of color. Furthennore, those ,-vho maintain that
there is a 1nonolithic "ferninist voice" or "women's experience" in the
end only promote and en1brace white women's voice and experience as
the do1ninant narrative (Harris 1995, 256).

Originally published in the su1nmer 2001 issue of the NWSA Journal.

196 RACE MATTERS

Moving away from a monolithic women's voice and experience, schol-

ars have begun to examine the interconnection of race, class, gender,
ethnicity, region, and sexuality as an intellectual and analytical tool to
diversify women's studies curricula. Women of Color and the American
Experience, the course I taught for three semesters, is one of the tangible
examples of such a move toward embracing diversity and interconnect-
edness of different vectors in the lives of women of color.
The goal of this article is to share what I have learned from teaching
Women of Color and the A1nerican Experience, to discuss particular
challenges I faced as a teacher, and to explore the reasons why we still
need courses like this one devoted specifically to women of color. I am
offering my experience as one example of how women's studies can em-
brace the experience of women of color and not dismiss the important
identities of race, class, and sexuality, along with gender, as part of the
broader dialogue already taking place within women's studies depart-
ments and programs.
The title of my chapter comes from an actual statement 1nade by one
of my students the first time I taught the course. Subsequently, teaching
the course two more times, I have had a chance to reflect on the state-
ment, which I found very striking. But even as I knew and somehow felt
that the statement captured the realities and experiences of the majority
of my students, I did not quite know how to assess the statement or what
to make of it in relation to the goals and end results I hoped to accom-
plish through the course. Together with my students from this past se-
mester, I tried to critically explore the meaning behind the statement.
What did it mean for a woman of color to experience racism primarily
and other forms of oppression secondarily? Was this truly the case-or
just how we perceived our realities? Should we embrace such a state-
ment, or try to rethink it in terms of how we can best achieve social
justice as feminists? I hope to provide some insights into these questions
as my students and I tried to wrestle with them. I thank my students
who willingly and openly pondered these questions with me and gave me
permission to quote from their papers.

My Vantage Points and Feminist Pedagogy

First, I want to delineate my perspectives. I am a young, relatively novice
teacher and an Asian American woman. I teach at a large state university
where students are fairly diverse in their cultural, racial, and economic
backgrounds. Most of the students in these classes were first-generation
college students. A good many of them had small children, several talked
freely about growing up in "the housing projects," and most were moti-
"I WAs [So] Busv FIGHTING RACISM" 197

vated about their future and took their education very seriously. A good
number of the students in my class also juggled multiple responsibilities
as working moms and held nearly full-time jobs. These particularities of
the environment in which I taught and the kinds of students who took
my course affected the experience I had as an instructor.
I strongly subscribe to the philosophy of feminist pedagogy as a politi-
cal tool. Scholars have long pointed out the patriarchal practice of uni-
versity learning, which persistently and systematically ignores women's
experiences and perspectives (Freeman and Jones 1980). Feminist peda-
gogy, then, as Kelly Coate Bignell has argued, is a conscious act of re-
structuring the power dynamics in the university "to favor won1en and
is specifically concerned with empowering female students" (1996, 316).
It is similar to Paulo Freire's "pedagogy of the oppressed, . . . a pedagogy
which must be forged with, not for, the oppressed (whether individual or
peoples) in the incessant struggle to regain their humanity" (1994, 30).
To fully practice feminist pedagogy, the teacher becomes an authority
with the students, not over them. This kind of classroom dynamic is in
itself a departure from the traditional learning experience. As bell hooks
has long argued, for education to becon1e the practice of freedom, the
first and foremost step is to deconstruct the authority of the professor
and distribute the power and responsibilities to the students as well
(1994, 8).
Another i1nportant aspect of feminist pedagogy is the use and impor-
tance of personal experience. Proponents of feminist pedagogy strongly
advocate that students in women's studies courses learn to 1nake con-
nections between their personal lives and course materials. This ap-
proach furthers the goal of consciousness-raising and social awareness
(Hu1nm 1991). This pedagogical goal and its implementation are not
without critics. Opponents argue that validating personal experiences in
the classroom only leads to "therapeutic pedagogy" and that serious in-
quiry and scholarship are lost in the drama (Patai and Koertge 1994;
Somn1ers 1994). While we cannot have the class be a personal confession
or a counseling session, ,-ve certainly cannot dismiss each individual ex-
perience as isolated and unimportant when appropriate connections are
indeed warranted and made. The goal here is not simply to have students
air their anger, opinions, and personal experiences but to have also them
critically analyze their experience in the context of the existing gender,
class, and racial hierarchies. Scholars have ter1ned this skill of bridging
our personal experience and academic scholarship "connected know-
ing," or "the ability to put the perspectives and voices of 'experts' in dia-
logue with one's own and others' voices and experiences" (Belenky et al.
1986, 101-103). Such skills, these critics 1naintain1 help students to de-
velop critical thinking and analytical skills (Hofhnann and Stake 1998,
198 RACE MATTERS

79-98; Belenky et al. 1986). Furthermore, we must ensure that students

learn that while knowledge is power, knowing is not enough. Students
must understand that our new knowledge must accompany action for
social change.

The Course and the Students

I advertised the course as a critical examination of the experiences of
women of color in the context of American history, culture, and politics.
The course focused on the effects of institutionalized racism, sexism,
classism, and homophobia in the experiences of women of color, as well
as the autonomy that women of color enjoy and strive to maintain in
their lives. The course was consciously about empowerment, not vic-
timization. I was not as interested in my students learning a specific
body of knowledge in this course as I was in helping them see the world
through the multiple analytical lenses of gender, race, ethnicity, class,
and sexuality. We sought to find ways in which women of color and
white women could be allies in our united fight against sexism, racism,
classism, homophobia, and our quest for effective social change. Topics
of discussion included family relationships, the workforce and labor
market, immigration, public policy, social welfare systems, higher edu-
cation and professions, sexuality, media representation, affirmative ac-
tion, and feminism.
This course was one of the rare classes in which the majority of the
students were women of color. In one semester, for example, I had a total
of twenty-one students. Most of them were African American women.
There were a few Caribbean African women, a handful of Latinas, two
Native American women, one Asian American woman, three white
women, and one Puerto Rican man. Occasionally, I have had a few white
male students who varied in their level of awareness of the impact of
these issues in people's lives and in American society. These class demo-
graphics meant that I usually had a group of students whose understand-
ing of racism, in particular, was much more sophisticated than students
in my other classes. For many students this course was one of the few
classes where, as women of color and the majority, they felt more com-
fortable expressing their opinions. For them, this was the first time they
were not asked or expected to speak as a numerical minority for the rest
of their race.
I used three anthologies that complement each other quite well. I as-
signed Race, Class, and Gender, a text familiar to the readers of the
NWSA Journal (Anderson and Collins 1998). To provide theoretical bases
for issues concerning women of color, I used Critical Race Feminism
(Wing 1997). I also assigned essays from the early anthology with the
"I WAs [So] Busy F1GHTING RAC ISM" 199

telling title, All the Women Are White, All the Blacks Are Men, But
Some of Us Are Brave jHull, Scott, and Smith 1982). Published almost
two decades ago, this pioneering anthology for black women's studies
provided a context from which women of color began focusing on issues
important to them within the field. It also provided us a site for measur-
ing the progress of Women's Studies by comparing the challenges the
editors and contributors faced then, to the issues wo1nen of color cur-
rently encounter within Wo1nen's Studies. In addition, I put together a
collection of essays and articles as a course packet. 1
The course ended with Audre Lorde's Sister Outsider (1984). For me,
Audre Lorde embodies the strength and power of a woman of color who
engaged in the important challenge of fighting for social justice in spe-
cial unapologetic ways that empower us even today. She publicly fought
her private battles of being a black socialist lesbian, thereby bettering not
only her personal life, but also the lives of other women of color. Each
semester, students responded to her essays very strongly, in both positive
and negative ways. Most found her writing inspirational and powerful,
some found her style intimidating and confrontational, and yet others
thought they would really like her and would have a lot to tell her if they
met. Whatever their personal feelings towards her approach and style, no
one walked away fro1n Lorde's writing without being profoundly affected
by the messages.
One of my assignments was what I called ''current event days." Stu-
dents brought in recent newspaper or magazine articles on ,-vomen of color
and discussed contemporary issues that affected the lives of women of
color. Almost always, this assignment turned out to be a very interesting
exercise in both how 1nuch of the ne,-vs concerns the lives of women of
color, and also how little attention women of color receive from the media.
The topics brought in by students ranged from interracial dating, to breast
cancer and women of color, to a lack of juicy roles for African American
women in Hollywood, to an article about a black woman tennis player
that focused, not on her athleticism, but on the kind of uniform she wore
during the match. These articles generated heated discussions, allowing
us to connect issues we read about to everyday happenings around us.
The oral history assignment was designed specifically to reach back
into our histories and find valuable resources. Students were required to
interview a woman of colori this gave 1ny students a chance to learn from
and become e1npowered by the experience of the wo1nan they inter-
viewed. Most often, my students interviewed their mothers or other fe-
male relatives. While they thought they already knew everything about
their own mothers, they came back surprised to find out how much they
did not know. The formal set up of the interview assignment allowed 1ny
students to ask their mothers more personal questions that before they
had avoided asking. These wo1nen told powerful stories of struggle and
200 RACE MATTERS

survival, but most important they exemplified the power of inner strength
and unconditional belief in themselves and in those who loved and sup-
ported them. In turn, their mothers were my students' source of inspira-
tion. Through this assign1nent, empowerment occurred on a very per-
sonal, private level which then connected to the public and political. Of
course, I did not grade the project on the content of the story their inter-
viewee told; I evaluated each paper on the level of the student's engage-
ment with the interviewee, as evidenced by the follow-up questions and
commentary, and on the analysis of the story their interviewee told.
My students themselves had incredible stories. When we read Gloria
Yamato's "Something About the Subject Makes It Hard to Name," stu-
dents had some shocking examples from their own experience of the four
different types of racism Yamato calls to our attention: 1) aware/blatant
racism, 2) aware/covert racism, 3) unaware/unintentional racism, and 4)
unaware/self-righteous racism (1998, 93). If we in the United States have
made any progress in fighting racism, it is in the fact that blatant racism
has become unfashionable or unacceptable, at least publicly. But the inci-
dents of aware/blatant racism the students shared with the class were a
reminder that the fight against racism is very far from being over.
One of my students worked as a manager in a clothing store in Buffalo,
New York. When an angry customer asked for the manager and the stu-
dent came to the counter, the customer became even more irate and said,
"I don't want to deal with a nigger" and left. Another student faced a
neighbor who sold t-shirts that read "100% cotton" on the front and,
"And you niggers picked it" on the back. My students take these situa-
tions at face value. They did not let these racist incidents degrade them,
even though they were hurtful. My student involved in the store incident
said this about the overt racism her customer displayed, "This was the
first time that any person had used that term in the tone she used with
intended hostility. Naturally, my first reaction was anger, but it was only
fleeting. I made a joke of it and would tell people that I would have been
really mad if she had called me a Spic." This is not to say that the student
dismissed the seriousness of the customer's racism; she simply chose her
battle wisely and devoted her energy to articulating the incident without
shame rather than hiding it in silence.
Yamato's article also warns us not to internalize racism, wpich is a
very important point all women of color should take care to reme1nber.
Yamato writes:

Internalized racism is what really gets in my way as a Black woman. It influ-

ences the way I see or don't see myself, limits what I expect of myself or oth-
ers like me. It results in my acceptance of mistreatment, leads me to believe
that being treated with less than absolute respect, at least this once, is to be
"I WAS [So] Busv FrcHT ING RACISM" 201

expected because I a1n Black, because I am not white. Because I an1 (you fill in
the color) you think, "life is going to be hard." The fact is life may be hard,
but the color of your skin is not the cause of the hardship. The color of your
skin ,nay be used as an excuse to mistreat you . . .. If it seems that your color
is the reason, if it seems that your ethnic heritage is the cause of the woe, it's
because you've been deliberately beaten down by agents of a greedy syste1n
until you swallowed the garbage. That is the internalization of racism. (91)
My students often told 1ne, "I know I have to work doubly hard to suc-
ceed." Though I used to commend such determination because I thought
it showed that they were driven and motivated, I realized that I was
guilty of encouraging and condoning the internalized racism that Ya1n-
ato warns us about. As women of color we are conditioned to accept
these subtle things; we do not even question why it is that "we have to
work doubly hard to succeed." Therefore, our heightened awareness of
these subtle for ms of racism helps us resist and combat all types of rac-
ism. The ability to recognize and resist racis1n in all of its ugly disguises
is precisely the kind of empowerment with which I wanted my students
to walk away.

Challenges
I encountered so1ne specific challenges while teaching the course where,
again, my particular circumstances came into play. First, I had to fight
my students' perception that as an Asian American woman I was not re-
ally a woman of color. Many of my students admitted that they ca1ne
into the class thinking that women of color really meant African Ameri-
can women, and they were surprised to see an Asian American wo1nan
instructor as well as to find readings on the syllabus which dealt with
issues concerning Native American wo1nen, Latinas, and Asian A1neri-
can women. Perhaps this explains "vhy a relatively s1nall number of Lati-
nas, Native American women, and Asian American women took the
course.
One of the unintended consequences of not having other Asian An1er-
ican women in class was that, as an Asian American woman, I was
sometimes put in the position of having to speak for 1ny race. Gradually
accepting that Asian American wo1nen were a racial minority who faced
racism and sexism sitnilar to that faced by African American women,
students expected me in so1ne ways to be the Asian A1nerican spokesper-
son. This had been a fa1niliar situation for 1ne as a student, and here I was
facing the same burden, only this time as a teacher.
I reluctantly but purposefully embraced the role of being the lone
Asian A1nerican wo1nan in the class for the sake of contributing another
202 RACE MATTERS

voice, another perspective; I served the role of the staunch educator, cor-
recting the stereotypes of Asian Americans some of my students held in
their mind. I did so in the spirit of embracing women's studies as a site
for a more democratic, less authoritative learning. I willingly replayed
the role as a representative of my race hoping that in doing so I could ac-
complish the important goal of dispelling some stereotypes about Asian
American women. Tellingly, the notion of Asian Americans as a recent,
model immigrant at best, and a permanent foreigner at worst, had a
strong foothold in my students' consciousness. Despite the history of
Asian immigrants' presence that dates back to the 1850s, Asian A1neri-
cans were still not legitimate Americans in their mind. Trying to fight
that stereotype was particularly difficult as a teacher for, in many ways,
such a view of me as a permanent foreigner undermined my legitimacy
as an instructor teaching a course on women of color and the American
experience. But again, I embraced this challenge as an opportunity for an
important lesson in collective learning and democratic classroom dy-
namics. I did not outwardly resent students' misperception of Asian
Americans and, by extension myself, and hoped that my actions would
eventually provide them with a counterexample of the stereotypes of
Asian American women as foreign, exotic, and submissive.2
Another challenge was that some students, even those who identified
themselves as self-proclaimed feminists, objected to talking about ho-
mosexuality and reading articles by and about lesbians. On the first day
of the class last semester, I had one student ask why there were so many
articles and essays by and about lesbians, including Audre Lorde's Sister
Outsider. She wanted to know what homosexuality had to do with a
course on women of color. Wasn't this after all a course about race and
gender? I tried to answer this student's objection by referring to the
points made by Cherrie Moraga in her article "La Guera," in Race, Class,
and Gender. Moraga, given her light complexion, could pass as white,
but she faced a tremendous amount of discrimination based on her ho-
mosexuality. The source of her oppression was not her minority status as
a Chicana but her sexuality as a lesbian (1998, 26-33). The interconnect-
edness of all forms of oppression was a concept that this student was
never able to fully embrace.
Given the nature of the course and the fact that class discussion inti-
mately involved our own identities, I faced the challenge of trying not to
alienate anyone, in particular the white women students. Most of the
white female students were willing to discuss racism and its impact, as
long as they were not included among those who benefited from racism
or were themselves considered racists. Invariably, even the most vocal
ones, at some point, withdrew from class participation as a result of wor-
rying about sounding or appearing racist and feeling like they had to de-
fend and speak for the entire white race. Their resentment seemed to
" I WAS [So] Busv FIGHTING RACISM" 203

subside when we read Peggy McIntosh's article, "White Privilege and

Male Privilege: A Personal Account of Coming to See Correspondences
Through Work in Women's Studies" (1998, 94-105). This personal essay
helped the white students realize that even if they were not racists, they
still benefitted from the white privileges which they sometimes took for
granted. Also, McIntosh's comparison of white privilege to male privi-
lege helped students to understand their complicity in keeping the racist
system intact by not actively speaking out against institutional and
structural racism.
By far my biggest challenge in the course was the statement that
makes up the title of this chapter: "I was !sol busy fighting racism that I
didn't even know I was being oppressed as a wo1nan." In many ways, I
was not surprised. How could they not make such a statement given
their everyday encounter with the most blatant forms of racism? It was a
telling statement, indeed, underscoring the importance of race in the
lives and experiences of women of color. As feminist theorist bell hooks
pointed out, "Feminist thoughts and practice were fundamentally al-
tered when radical women of color and white wo1nen allies began to rig-
orously challenge the notion that gender was the primary factor deter-
mining a woman's fate." She reflects on her own coming-of-age:

I can still recall how it upset everyone in the first women's studies class I at-
tended- a class where everyone except me was white and female and mostly
from privileged class backgrounds-when I interrupted a discussion about the
origins of domination in which it was argued that when a child is coming out
of the womb the factor dee1ned most i1nportant is gender. I stated that when
the child of two black parents is coining out of the v.romb the factor that is
considered first is skin color, then gender, because race and gender will deter-
mine that child's fate. Looking at the interlocking nature of gender, race, and
class was the perspective that changed the direction of feminist thought.
(2000, xi- xii)

Indeed, for too long, white bourgeois feminists have neglected the needs
and realities of won1en of color and poor women.
The statement, "I was [so] busy fighting racism that I didn't even know
I was being oppressed as a woman," reflects both revelation and lament.
The student who made this state1nent correctly recognized the urgency
of a particular fonn of oppression in her life, but she also realized the
multiplicity of her oppression and lamented having been previously blind
to it. Trying to separate what is a result of racis1n and what is a result of
sexis1n is an impossible, as well as ineffective exercise. The focus of our
attention in the course was the interconnectedness of racis1n1 sexism,
classism, and ho1nophobia1 or what feminist scholars call "a 1natrix of
domination, which posits multiple, interlocking levels of do1nination that
stem from the societal configuration of race, class, and gender relations"
204 RACE MATTERS

(Anderson and Collins 1998, 5). So while race may be the most urgent
and pressing form of oppression for women of color, this awareness of the
racism that is built into the very fabric of our society must not come at
the expense of ignoring the interconnectedness of oppressions and the
overlapping of our multiple identities at work.
I also found the statement to be a challenge, because to me feminism,
in addition to fighting sexism, is about more than fighting racism, or even
achieving racial, gender, and class equality. Like hooks and other femi-
nists, I believe that feminism is the radical movement that will success-
fully challenge the current power structures in a transformative way.
"The fight against sexist oppression is of grave political significance-it
is not for women only. Feminist movement is vital both in its power to
liberate us from the terrible bonds of sexist oppression and in its potential
to radicalize and renew other liberation struggles" (hooks 2000, 42). She
reminds us to look beyond our own immediate fight for freedom from op-
pression toward the end goal of systematic, structural, social changes.
The third time I taught this course I asked my students to ponder the
statement, "I was [sol busy fighting racism that I didn't even know I was
being oppressed as a woman." How did they feel about such a statement? If
they were women of color, did they feel that racism was indeed the biggest,
most pressing source of oppression in their lives? I asked them to write
honestly and reflectively, drawing upon the discussions and readings from
the semester. I have received permission to share some of their responses.
Race and sex for black women are so intertwined that it is almost impossible
to pull the two apart when the situation does not state blatantly on what
grounds we are being judged. I believe that women who do not see sexism and
only see racism are those women who refuse to recognize the fact that they
are tied in together. (Angela)

"I was [sol busy fighting racism that I didn't even know I was being oppressed
as a woman" is a very true statement. Like many women of color I am taught
to recognize racism before sexism. Since racism is a more universal issue or
problem that all people face, I am trained to realize when I am being discrimi-
nated against by my skin color, but not my gender. By taking this class, I
know I will be more aware of this in the future. (Monique)

I am a twenty-year-old woman whose mother is Polish and whose father is

black. Most often, racially, I would be defined as mulatto. Visually, the major-
ity of people I encounter assume that I am Hispanic. 1 have a skin tone that is
a lighter shade of tan and long brown hair that is worn very straight, but natu-
rally has a very loose curl. The characteristics are not considered as typical of
a black person so it is very rare that I am discriminated against because I am
black ... . I find myself fortunate to be racially mixed. Visually, it allows me a
type of racial androgyny. It is hard to oppress someone without being able to
define the basis on which to oppress them. I think that is why I haven't been
"I WAs [So] Busv Ft G HTI N G RACISM" 205

exposed to as many instances of racism that other women of color have been
subjected to. Sexism, on the other hand, is completely different. /Eve)

Until I took this class, I did not know that I was being oppressed as a won1an
just as much as I was being oppressed for my race. It scared me to a certain
extent, because I was ignorant and ignorance is not good. Through reading the
different articles and understanding the different situations that 1nany women
have overcome, I can now say that I am proud to be both African American
and a woman. Being a woman of color, I believe that my race has held 1ne
back, 1nore than being a woman .. . . Race, class, and gender all play hand in
hand in oppressing individuals. However what people n1ust realize is that
each issue must be tackled in the urgency that it affects the person . You can-
not get a hungry man to fight against racism until he has eat en. /Malika)

All of these answers reflected their sophisticated understanding of

how the interconnectedness of different for1ns of oppression affects their
own lives as wo1nen of color. They also understood that the pervasive-
ness of the racism that they cannot escape is in many ways the easiest to
identify. But as bell hooks said, "Racis1n is fundamentally a fe1ninist is-
sue because it is so interconnected with sexist oppression" (2000, 53).
Both Angela's and Monique's com1nents reflect that understanding. Eve
found that the racial ambiguity resulting from her biracial background
offered her a measure of protection fro1n racis1n. Malika, who began by
saying, "I did not know I was being oppressed as a woman, just as 1nuch
as I was being oppressed for my race," later concluded that, "[b]eing a
wo1nan of color, my race has held me back more than being a woman."
This underscores the continued saliency of race in the lives of women of
color. Along the san1e line, Malika also 1nade a very profound point when
she said, "you cannot get a hungry man to fight against racis1n until he
has eaten." Indeed, one has to deal with the most urgent issue facing one
at any given 1no1nent. If it is ending hunger, the fight against racis1n or
sexism becomes secondary and almost ilnpossible. Si1nilarly, I take Ma-
lika's example of hunger in both the literal and metaphorical sense. If we
are not nurtured and empowered to find strength and pride in ourselves,
or if we are mentally hungry or emotionally depleted, we are in no shape
to engage in the feminist move1nent to bring about transformative
changes in society.
Our racial, gender, sexual, and class identities are en1neshed in such a
way that we cannot neatly separate the1n. Moreover, our experience is
intertwined with other people's experiences. For exa1nple, as Anderson
and Collin.s point out, white A1nericans do not fit in "either/or"
categories-either as oppressive or as oppressed (1998, SJ. Isolating white
Americans as if their experiences stand alone ignores how white experi-
ence is intertwined with that of other groups; more con1plexity needs to
be given to how white Americans are framed in our dialogues. Relational
206 RACE MATTERS

thinking that probes the multiplicity of our identities helps us to rede-

fine and reconceptualize how our racial, gender, class, and sexual identi-
ties and their intersections continue to matter.
Courses devoted specifically to the experience and lives of women of
color are needed so that we do not succumb to the "culture of silence" by
having our voices and needs go unheard and unrecognized in women's
studies departments, programs, and organizations (Freire 1995). Audre
Lorde said, "To imply ... that all women suffer the same oppression sim-
ply because we are women is to lose sight of the many varied tools of
patriarchy. It is to ignore how those tools are used by women without
awareness against each other" (1984, 67). Or, as one scholar of African
American Women's Studies put it at the last annual meeting of NWSA,
the silencing of the voices and needs of women of color in Women's Stud-
ies is essentially "patriarchy with a vagina."3
The goal of diversity in our own community of women's studies schol-
ars and activists must go beyond lip service and have a transformative
impact on the structure and foundations of our field. Women of Color
and the American Experience is an attempt to ensure that the feminist
consciousness of women's studies students comes with their racial, sex-
ual, and class awareness, and not at the expense of such awareness. We
should encourage our students of color to embrace their racial identity,
along with their gender identity as women, and empower them to fight
discrimination stemming from their race, class, and/or sexuality. But
feminists must take on the fight not just against racism but also against
all forms of oppression related and connected to racism. The end goal
must be the transformation of society, not merely escape from oppressive
circumstances. As feminists, we want all of our sisters of color as well as
our white sisters-and our male allies-united in battling this demon.

Acknowledgments
An earlier version of this essay was delivered at the Twenty-First Annual Meet-
ing of the National Women's Studies Association at Simmons College, Boston,
Massachusetts, June 2000. 1 thank the audience for their helpful questions and
comments. I also gratefully acknowledge the financial assistance of the National
Women's Studies Association's Travel Scholarship, which made my attendance
possible. I wish to thank Pat Washington for inviting me to submit the essay and
for giving me abundant encouragement and support along the way, and the
anonymous NWSA Journal referees for their astute criticism and constructive
feedback that greatly improved this essay from its original form. Finally, I thank
the students in Women of Color and the American Experience in Spring 2000
who wrestled with important questions and gave me permission to quote from
their papers.
"I WAs (Sol Busy FIGHTING RACISM" 207

Notes
I. I varied the readings the second time I taught the course by assigning a
nu1nber of articles from Women Transforming Politics: An Alternative
Reader (Cohen et al. 1997).

2. The second time I taught the course, I showed an excellent video, Slaying
the Dragon (Gee 1987), which effectively critiques Hollywood's images of
stereotypical Asian and Asian A,nerican won1en.

3. Personal conversation with author, Boston, MA, 17 June 2000.

References
Anderson, Margaret L., and Patricia Hill Collins, eds. 1998. Race, Class, and
Gender: An Anthology. New York: Wadsworth.
Belenky, Mary F., Blythe M. Clinchy, Nancy R. Goldberger, and Jill M. Tarule.
1986. Women 's Ways of Knowing: The Development of Self, Voice, and
Mind. New York: Basic.
Bignell, Kelly Coate. 1996. "Building Feminist Praxis Out of Fe1ninist Pedagogy:
The hnportance of Students' Perspectives." Women 's Studies International
Forum 9:315 - 25.
Cohen, Cathy J., Kathleen B. Jones, and Joan C. Trento, eds . 1997. Women Tran s-
forming Politics: An Alternative Reader. New York : New York University
Press.
Crenshaw, Kimberle. 1997. "Beyond Racism and Misogyny: Black Fe1ninism and
2 Live Crew. In Women Transforming Politics, eds. Cathy J. Cohen, Kath-
leen B. Jones, and Joan C. Trento, 549- 68. New York: New York University
Press.
- - . 1991. "Demarginalizing the In tersection of Race and Sex: A Black Femi-
nist Critique of Antidiscrimination Doctrine, Feminist Theory and Antira-
cist Politics." In Feminist Legal Theory, eds. K.I. Bartlett and R. Kennedy,
57- 80. Boulder, CO: Westview.
Delgado, Richard. 1995. Critical Race Theory: The Cutting Edge. Philadelphia:
Tem ple University Press.
Freeman, Helen, and Alison Jones. 1980. "For Women Only?" Women's Studies
International Quarterly 3 (4):429- 40.
Freire, Paulo. 1994. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. New York: Continuum.
Harris, Angela P. 1995. "Race and Essentialism in Feminist Legal Theory." In
Critical Race Theory: The Cutting Edge, ed. Richard Delgado, 253-66. Phil-
adelphia, Te1nple University Press.
Hoffman, Frances L., and Jayne E. Stake. 1998. "Feminist Pedagogy in Theory
and Practice: An Empirical Investigation." NWSA Tournal 10(1):79- 98.
hooks, bell. 2000. Feminist Theory: From Margin to Cen ter. 2nd ed. Cambridge,
MA: South End Press.
208 RACE MATTERS

- - . 1994. Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom.

New York: Routledge Press.
Hull, Gloria T., Patricia Bell Scott, and Barbara Smith, eds. 1982. All the Women
Are White, All the Blacks Are Men, But Some of Us Are Brave. New York:
Feminist Press.
Humm, Maggie. 1991. '"Thinking of Things In Themselves': Theory, Experi-
ence, Women's Studies." In Out of the Margins: Women's Studies in the
Nineties, eds. Jane Aaron and Sylvia Walby, 49- 62. London: Falmer Press.
Gee, Deborah. 1987. Slaying the Dragon. San Francisco, CA: National Asian
American Telecommunications Association, Cross Current Media. Video
tape.
Lorde, Audre. 1984. Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches By Audre Larde. Free-
dom, CA: Crossing Press.
McIntosh, Peggy. 1998. "White Privilege and Male Privilege: A Personal Ac-
count of Coming to See Correspondences Through Work in Women's Stud-
ies." In Race, Class and Gender, eds. Margaret L. Anderson and Patricia Hill
Collins, 94-105. New York: Wadsworth.
Moraga, Cherrfe. 1998. "La Guera." In Race, Class, and Gender, eds. Margaret L.
Anderson and Patricia Hill Collins, 26-33. New York: Wadsworth.
NWSA Task Force. 1999. "Defining Women's Scholarship: A Statement of the
National Women's Studies Association Task Force on Faculty Roles and Re-
wards." Online. Available at http://www.nwsa.org/taskforce.htm.
Patai, Daphne, and Noretta Koertge. 1994. Professing Feminism: Cautionary
Tales from the Strange World of Women 's Studies. New York: Basic Books.
Sommers, Christina Hoff. 1994. Who Stole Feminism! How Women Have Be-
trayed Women. New York: Simon &. Schuster.
Wing, Adrien Katherine, ed. 1997. Critical Race Feminism: A Reader. New York:
New York University Press.
Yamato, Gloria. 1998. "Something About the Subject Makes It Hard to Na1ne."
In Race, Class, and Gender, eds. Margaret L. Anderson and Patricia Hill
Collins, 89-93. New York: Wadsworth.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Negotiating Tensions: Teaching about Race

Issues in Graduate Feminist Classrooms

ANNE DONADEY

As more and more feminists in academia engage in an analysis of multi-

ple forms of oppression and bring our research into the classroom, we are
faced with new scholarly, ethical, and pedagogical challenges. Several
scholars have discussed the power differentials involved in multicul-
tural scholarship and have pointed to the risks of neocolonial cultural
appropriation inherent in the interpretation of non-Western cultural
practices from the perspective of a Western intellectual framework (Spi-
vak 1991; Mohanty 1991; Patai 1991; Rose 1992). Such ethical issues in
scholarly research also arise when curricula beco1ne 1nore integrated and
1nulticultural.
As women's studies curricula become more integrated, and as our un-
derstanding of 1nale supremacy comes to intersect with an analysis of
white supremacy, ilnperialism, heterosexism, and capitalism, some
white female students who have become comfortable with a theoretical
paradigm placing them at the center may resist theories that unsettle
their assumptions. Instructors experience attitudes of denial from stu-
dents, especially "''hen questions of racism and colonialism arise in the
feminist classroom. The revolution in thinking demanded of feminists,
from a monist view of oppression as gender-based only to a multiple con-
sciousness model taking into account the interlocking force of race,
class, and gender, comes from the repeated calls of womanists and femi-
nists of color, not only in academic women's studies programs and in
theoretical writings, but in the broader fram e of the women's movement
(King 1990; Sandoval 1991). Issues of student resistance in the feminist
classroom n1ust thus be understood in a more general context and seen as
related to monist versus intersectional theories of oppression in women's
studies and to the broader proble1n of racis1n in the women's move1nent in
a society that still has to rid itself of its white supremacist ideology (Davis
1981). Like most fe1ninist organizations inside as well as outside aca-
demia, the NWSA itself has experienced these struggles over different
visions of feminis1n firsthand (Sandoval 1990). It is particularly important
to its future that its me1nbers confront these issues pedagogically as well
as institutionally. Texts such as Audre Lorde's Sister Outsider 0984), Glo-
ria Anzaldua's Making Face, Making Soul (1990), Chandra Mohanty, Ann
Russo, and Lourdes Torres's Third World Women and the Politics of

Originally published in the Spring 2002 issue of the NWSA Jo urnal.

210 RACE MATTERS

Feminism (1991), and bell hooks's Teaching to Transgress (1994), which I

regularly teach in my feminist criticism classes, form the intellectual
backbone on which my interpretation rests.
Before developing my argument, I begin by defining some of the terms
used in this chapter. Feminist pedagogy, as characterized by women's
studies practitioners, highlights "feminist process" in classroom interac-
tions: it focuses on "consensual, collaborative, non-hierarchical processes
of learning/teaching" (Kenway and Modra 1992, 149). Crucial tenets of
feminist pedagogy include the need to value experiential knowledge
(Hartsock 1983; hooks 1994), the question of the female teacher's author-
ity in the classroom (Friedman 1985; Rakow 1991; Kenway and Modra
1992; Nnaemeka 1994), the classroom as a safe space (Ellsworth 1989;
Lewis 1990; hooks 1994; Nnaemeka 1994), the use of democratic dia-
logue (Ellsworth 1989; Kenway and Modra 1992), and empowering stu-
dent voice (Ellsworth 1989; Mohanty 1989-1990; hooks 1994). These no-
tions reflect feminist pedagogy's engagement with the liberatory
pedagogy of Paulo Freire and others (Kenway and Modra 1992). Two of
the concepts on which I focus my analysis are safe space and student
voice. For the purposes of this chapter, safe space is defined as "a discur-
sive arena that enables women to talk about issues that are too danger-
ous to discuss in other contexts" (Kozol 1999, 10). One of the ways to
create a safe space is for the instructor to value, recognize, and encourage
each student's voice (hooks 1994). The desire to help students come to
voice is related to a view of students as active participants in the learning
process (hooks 1994) and to a feminist belief that women's silencing can
be redressed in the feminist classroom. Until the late 1980s and early
1990s, the consensus in feminist pedagogy tended to be that feminist
faculty should downplay their authority in the classroom and make
classrooms safe spaces in which students could be empowered to come
to voice through the use of democratic dialogue and sharing their own
experiences of oppression. Elizabeth Ellsworth's (1989) critique of the
limitations of these concepts ushered in an era of reevaluating the main
tenets of feminist pedagogy such as empowerment (Lewis 1990; Gore
1992), safe space (Kozol 1999), and student voice (Orner 1992; hooks 1994)
by asking teachers to take into account power differentials within and
outside the classroom. .
Finally, the definition of racism that I use in this essay is much
broader than the common understanding. It places individual attitudes
and practices within the broader framework of institutional, systemic
racism (Mohanty 1989-1990; Ng 1993) and includes white solipsism, or
the view of dominant white, commonsense ideology as normative (Rich
1979; Ng 1993). I follow Gloria Yamato (1990), who makes a useful dis-
tinction between four kinds of racism: aware/blatant racism (the tip of
NEGOTIATING TENSIONS 211

the iceberg), aware/covert racism (the racism people think they can get
away with), unaware/unintentional racis1n (the bulk of the iceberg), and
una,-vare/self-righteous racism (when white people tell people of color
what their issues should be and how to handle them). I would add the
component of racism by omission to unaware/unintentional racism. In
the context of the feminist classroom, for example, this would mean not
putting works by women of color on the syllabus, by only tokenizing a
few such texts at the end of the semester, or by discussing only the gen-
der implications of works by writers such as Zora Neale Hurston or Toni
Morrison.
It is becoming 1nore and more urgent for instructors who bring an
analysis of multiple forms of oppression in the classroom to examine the
following crucial issues that arise in our teaching: How are people si-
lenced in the classroom? Is the feminist concept of "safe space" always
an e1npowering one? How long should teachers let a "conversation" con-
tinue once it has clearly become circular? Should the instructor silence
racist talk or atte1npt to reason with it? What are the limits of the lib-
eral concepts of free speech and pluralistic conversation? What are the
consequences of racist comments on students, especially on students of
color? Where does the instructor's responsibility lie? Do we play into
the racist's hands by responding to her arguments on her own terms?
How does the instructor enlist the help of students in the process of
dealing with racism in the classroom? How should racism be named and
exposed? What is so threatening about theorizing race and gender as in-
terlocking systems of domination that it would cause some (white) fem-
inists to reject the entire concept? These issues crystallized for me the
first time I taught a graduate course in feminist criticism at the Univer-
sity of Iowa.
The class, a broad overview of contemporary feminist criticism, aimed
to expose students to the richness of fe1ninism's multiple discourses and
to explore some of its contested terrains. The idea was to examine a vari-
ety of feminist and womanist texts that theorize the connections be-
tween forms of oppression such as homophobia, classism, colonialism,
sexism, and racism. Readings were multicultural, and topics covered in-
cluded historicizing feminisms, French feminisms, postmodernism and
feminism, race/gender/sexuality, identity politics, masculinities, repro-
ductive technologies, feminism and science, feminism and the law, inter-
national fe1ninism, and rape. The class was run as a seminar and 1nainly
consisted of a discussion of the readings after a short student presentation
on the day's readings. There were thirteen graduate students in the class,
mostly fro1n the English depart1nent. It soon beca1ne clear that two or
three students consistently refused to engage issues of race and racis1n
and tried to steer the class discussion back to a monist, gender-only focus.
212 RACE MATTERS

They clearly felt that the feminist classroom was one that could accom-
modate discussions of race only insofar as these discussions did not dis-
rupt their assumption of the primacy of gender in feminist analysis, and
they refused any redefinition of gender-based oppression as interlocked
with racial oppression. They did not completely reject a model taking
multiple oppressions into account, as they were perfectly happy to in-
clude sexuality and class into their analysis. Their refusal to engage
multiple oppressions was limited to race and, to a lesser extent, colo-
nialism. Considering the history of race relations in the United States in
general, and the unfortunate history of institutional racism in the wom-
en's movement since the nineteenth century in particular, it is not sur-
prising that race issues should remain a contested terrain in the field. I
realize that terming the reluctance to address race issues racism 1nay
seem controversial to some. Following Adrienne Rich, I contend that
white solipsism, the focus on a white middle-class experience rendered
as universal, is part of racism because it narrows feminist vision and
erases the existence and experiences of other women (1979). It also
serves to bolster white, upper-middle-class dominance by providing the-
oretical justification for women of the dominant strata of society to
view themselves only as oppressed people. While I expected that most of
the tensions that might arise in the class would most likely be around
questions of race and racism, given my previous experience teaching
Introduction to Women's Studies at Northwestern University, I was not
quite prepared for the high level of resistance I encountered. I have since
taught the graduate feminist criticism class with much better results,
due in part to the strategies I implemented (which I present in the third
section).
This chapter represents and continues my process of reflecting on this
painful experience through research and discussion with some of the
students involved as well as with antiracism activist colleagues. 1 My
comments in this chapter do not constitute a pedagogy per se. Since
many colleagues (professors and graduate students) struggle with similar
issues in their classes semester after semester, I present these reflections
and strategies hoping that this work may be as useful to others as it has
been to me. This chapter's blind spots are my sole responsibility. To ad-
dress the question of what happens when the tenets of feminist and criti-
cal pedagogy clash with antiracist work, I first interrogate the concepts
of coming to voice and creating safe spaces by discussing some of the
problematic implications of voicing resistance in the classroom. I then
propose an overview and analysis of the literature on the causes of stu-
dent resistance, and conclude by offering strategies I have used in subse-
quent versions of my graduate feminist criticism class to challenge stu-
dent resistance and negotiate tensions more effectively.
NEGOTIATING TENSIONS 213

Implications of Voicing Resistance

Before teaching this graduate class, I knew that 1nany women of color
have more difficult and mixed experiences with-and ambivalent feel-
ings toward-feminism than white women. Reasons for th is include the
historical legacy of racism in the women's movement and the continuing
predominance of monist frameworks in feminist theory produced by
white women. Because of this, I did expect fraught class dynamics around
the intersection of race and gender issues (see Smith 1990; Zinn et al.
1990; Uttal 1990). Therefore, one of my 1nain concerns fr orn the start
was to avoid making the class an oppressive experience for what I knew
would be very few students of color, to avoid perpetuating a si tuation
where they would find the1nselves silenced, objectified, a nd discounted.
In Uma Narayan's words, I wanted to avoid a situation "in which dia-
logue between people who share and people who do not share the exper i-
ence of a certain form of oppression can be damaged because the emo-
tions, and hence the sense of self, of the 1nembers of the oppressed group
are unintentionally violated by non-members of the oppressed group
who participate in the dialogue" (1988, 31). Therefore, it is my responsi-
bility as a teacher and especially as a white person in a racist socie ty, to
be proactive against racisrn and to always respond firmly to racist com-
rnents whenever I catch them. I agree with Sonnenschein that "to main-
tain within the classroom an environ1nent free of bigotry and conducive
to learning for all students ... [r]acist remarks ... should never go un-
challenged. Students should recognize that the teacher considers expres-
sions of prejudice unacceptable and that they too are expected to regard
such expressions as unacceptable" (1988, 265). I certainly did not want
the burden of responding to such remarks to be placed on the students of
color. I was also hoping to 1nodel pedagogical practices that could be
helpful to graduate students who, as rhetoric and literature teaching as-
sistants, do encounter blatant forms of racism in their own classrooms
(one of the resisting students was ironically very concerned about her
own students' racism).
Although the two students of color in the class appreciated 1ny efforts,
and often responded to the problematic com1nents made by so1ne of the
other students, they also felt that I was not "pointing these issues out as
racist and dealing with thern as such." I certainly was not as direct as I
should have been in my class responses and 1nost likely was not aware of
all of the racist implications either. It was clear to these two students
that class discussions of race and colonization operated in such a way
that, as one of the1n wrote, "my questions and com1nents were refigured
and (re)presented in ways that silenced the issues I was tryi ng to bring
up ... the authors were whitewashed/decolored/rendered as speaki ng to
214 RACE MATTERS

a universal (in the U.S., this is white) experience." Obioma Nnaemeka

sees this problematic practice on the part of some feminists as a way to
rename struggles by misnaming them (1995, 81). It took several out-of-
class discussions with the two students of color (who initiated these
visits together) for me to realize toward the end of the semester that by
constantly responding to the resisters' arguments on the terms that they
were setting up, I inadvertently perpetuated the silencing of students of
color.
As a consequence of my feminist pedagogy assumption that students
should be encouraged to voice all of their arguments so they could be
debated, one of the students of color wrote that her subjectivity and feel-
ings were being negated in the class. Although there is an extensive body
of scholarship dealing with student and classroom resistance, only one of
the essays I read discusses the negative consequences experienced by
students from nondominant backgrounds when other students voice re-
sistance, especially in a context in which the former are already margin-
alized several times over (Ellsworth 1989; in her case, a graduate feminist
classroom in an historically white Midwestern university located in a
rural area-a situation quite similar to my own). Like Ellsworth, I have
reservations regarding such tenets of feminist pedagogy as student em-
powerment, student voice, and the classroom as safe space. Until I taught
this graduate feminist criticism class, such notions had always appeared
to me to be lofty goals that I had made my own. Ellsworth points out that
these concepts become dangerous when applied to classrooms with the
underlying assu1nption of homogeneity. In an egalitarian world, these
goals would be attainable. In a world structured by systemic inequalities
such as our own, trying to reach for these goals can sometimes serve to
reinforce oppressive classroom practices (Ng 1995; Kozol 1999). In Ells-
worth's words, "[a]cting as if our classrooms were a safe space in which
democratic dialogue was possible and happening did not make it so"
(1989, 315).
In a redefinition of the concept of the public sphere that is relevant to
the view of classrooms as safe spaces encouraging participatory democ-
racy, Nancy Fraser points out that the main flaw of "the bourgeois con-
ception of the public sphere [is that it] requires bracketing inequalities of
status" so that "interlocutors ... speak to one another as if they were
social and economic peers" (1992, 118). She points out that "such brack-
eting usually works to the advantage of dominant groups in society and
to the disadvantage of subordinates" and that it would be much more ef-
fective to "explicitly thematiz[e]," rather than bracket, such inequalities
and differences (120). It is ironic that radical feminist pedagogy tends to
replicate the assumptions of the bourgeois concept of the public sphere
with respect to the belief that the classroom can be a safe space in which
power differences are downplayed in the interest of every individual
NEGOTIATING TENSIONS 2 15

coming to voice (hooks 1994). Fraser concludes that true democracy

would require the abolition of societal inequalities 11992). In the context
of the classroom, Roxana Ng similarly notes that it is important to begin
by acknowledging that "[t]he university classroo1n is not, by definition, a
democratic place. To pretend it can be is to deny that hierarchy and insti-
tutional power exist" (1995, 140).
The concept of voice becomes particularly problematic in two specific
instances: "when the student of color finds a voice and then gets told re-
peatedly that that voice distracts from the issues," and when the voice
white students find is a racist one (or more generally one that reproduces
ideologies of dominance). 2 When a "reconstructed racist"-that is, so1ne-
one who has been made aware of her/his racist assumptions but refuses
to question them-monopolizes class time, thereby reinforcing domina-
tion, is it not the teacher's responsibility to stop this process? A "peda-
gogy of the oppressed" (Freire 1993, 30), created for the purposes of nur-
turing revolutionary consciousness a1nong peasant and working-class
people, should probably not be applied wholesale to the context of A1neri-
can universities preparing students to maintain or achieve middle-class
status.
There are at least two positions that differ frorn my own with respect
to the question of instructor responsibility. S01ne scholars refuse to en-
gage in this type of antiracism work in the classroom because they feel it
is too hard for students of color to deal with or because it is too difficult
and draining for instructors (Garcia 1994). They attempt to avoid having
students' emotions erupt in the classroom and try to 1naintain distance
from emotions in the learning process. I do not view this position as re-
alistic because emotiona lly fraught class dyna1nics usually occur in
classes with a majority of white students whenever multicultural read-
ings are assigned and because keeping silent about unnamed classroom
tensions is ultimately unproductive. As Chickasaw scholar Jodi Byrd ar-
gues, students of color are at least as hurt by unchallenged racist com-
ments as they can be by a discussion putting these comrnents into ques-
tion. It is the instructor's job to challenge racist remarks, not that of
students of color.3
Another response to the question of instructor responsibility is the is-
sue of free speech in the classroom. Whereas liberal pluralists, relativ-
ists, and civil libertarians 1nay view a classroom discussion of both racist
and antiracist positions as an example of a successful, democratic learn-
ing process, Ian Barnard's point (made in the context of antiho1nophobic
pedagogy) resonates with my discussion of antiracism pedagogy. Barnard
disagrees with the com1non practice of "inviting students to argue 'both'
sides" of an issu e: "these kinds of topics and discussions have the effect
of privileging dominant power relations and of further silencing our
queer students. For example, if we ask our students to debate whether
216 RACE MATTERS

homosexuality is 'wrong' or not, we are expecting our queer students to

justify their very existences in the classroom .... Queer students have a
right to expect not to be wounded in this way in the classroom" [1994, 27,
my emphasis). While free speech is vital for a healthy and balanced soci-
ety, it is also crucial that an understanding of the concept be linked to an
assessment of the structural inequalities built into U.S. democracy. In
other words, we need to ask the question of whose freedom of speech is
being protected. Although the theoretical concept guarantees free speech
for all, in practice the free speech argument is often invoked to guarantee
the speech of the dominant, even in its most excessive forms. 4 It is im-
portant to always weigh the question of free speech against that of free-
dom from harassment. The concept of free speech is legally circum-
scribed: for example, speech that poses a clear and imminent danger to
others can be restricted. Likewise, legal definitions of sexual harass-
ment, for example, involve not simply direct sexual threats but also the
creation of a climate contributing to a hostile environment (Stein 1995b).
Just as feminist teachers have learned to respond effectively to sexist
comments in our classes, we can translate this knowledge to the issue of
racist comments. Repeated racist remarks in the classroom contribute to
creating a hostile environment for students of color. Consequences of
such "epistemic violence 11 include silencing, thus threatening these stu-
dents' access to free speech (Spivak 1991, 804). When the instructor does
not question racist remarks, the message sent to all students is that the
instructor either is oblivious to racism or agrees with the comments be-
ing made. In either case, the racist message is reinforced for the entire
class, and education as the practice of freedom is replaced by education
into the dominant ideology.

Understanding Student Resistance

Several scholars have discussed the causes of student resistance (Rothen-
berg 1988; Tatum 1992). Paula Rothenberg proposes that students of all
genders, class positions, and racial heritages may have invested a lot in
"the American Dream/Myth of Success 11 (1988, 38). She rightly links this
investment to the dominant colorblind ideology of "contemporary con-
servatism,11 one of whose consequences is that "today's students confuse
failing to notice race and gender with the absence of racism and sexism 11
(38). As Nancy Hartsock points out, the dominant vision is marked by
both its partiality and perversity, which allow it to ideologically manipu-
late reality so as to reverse it (1983). When power differentials between
groups are taken into account in an analysis of oppression, the issue of
privilege becomes salient. Students from dominant groups tend to feel
threatened because such analyses "point a finger at those whose inter-
NEGOTIATING TENSIONS 217

ests are served" by racism and sexism (Rothenberg 1988, 38). As Paulo
Freire observes, at so1ne point, "participants begin to realize that if their
analysis of the situation goes any deeper they will either have to divest
themselves of their 1nyths, or reaffinn them" (1993, 138). Resistance is a
way to reaffirm the myths that justify one's dominance. Boh mer and
Briggs insist that an analysis of oppression will also need t o generate an
examination of privilege in order to be effective. It has been my experi-
ence that this is one of the hardest things t o do (1991). The normative
status bestowed on whiteness, maleness, middle-/-upper-class status, and
heterosexuality in our culture 1nakes it easier t o deny the privileges as-
sociated with these characteristics. It seems t o be easier to get in touch
with one's experience as victim of a specific form of oppression than it is
to take responsibility for the ways in which we benefit fr om the oppres-
sion of other groups or peoples. We generally do not experience our own
privilege as intensely as we do injustices done to us on the basis of group
belonging (McIntosh 1992).
Moreover, there may be a resistance to self-identifying as the norm in
classroo1ns where the norm is shown to be an ideological construct used
to perpetuate systemic inequalities (Lorde 1984). Many emotions enter
into play: guilt, anger, shame, defensiveness, and denial. Often, student
resistance takes the form of resent1nent and accusat ions of guilt build-
ing: "refusal or failure to initiate changes creates guilt and dissonance
between their actions and their self-images as just and thoughtfu l peo-
ple" (Aiken et al. 1987, 262-3). Guilt can become a paralyzing emotion
that paradoxically allows one not t o initiate social changes, as feeling
bad about a situation and wallowing in guilt beco1ne substitutes for
action. 5
These problems can be related to the continued dominance of rnonist
frameworks of analysis in the wo men's studies classroom (King 1990).
White, middle-/-upper-class fe1nale students in the graduate feminist crit-
icism classroom are not only aware of the oppression they have experi-
enced as women, they have also theorized that oppression, analyzed and
interpreted their often painful experiences from a gender-based perspec-
tive. They have so1netimes invested a lot in terms of their own personal
survival in a sense of identity as victims of rnale violence and male do1n i-
nation. When the feminist para1neters with ,-vhich students have been
provided prove to be monist (gender-only), students will tend to resist the
use of more co1nplex parameters that take race and class into account .
When the curriculum is integrated from the start, as it is with the under-
graduate Introduction to Women's Studies class taught by my colleague
Jael Silliman at the University of Iowa, students are much more willing
to engage in feminist discussions of race and class. The undergraduate
students who took my Feminist Theory and Feminist Criticis1n classes
after the introduction class tended to be m ore open to i ntersectional
218 RACE MATTERS

perspectives than graduate students who were previously trained with

monist models. For Rothenberg, curriculum integration will be the key to
lowering student resistance: "The majority of students will continue to
resist dealing with issues of race, class, and gender as long as those issues
are raised in a few isolated courses" (1988, 42).
Resistance is linked to very powerful emotions aroused in students by
complex subject matter. The resistance against complicating the param-
eters of analysis on the part of white, middle-/upper-class female gradu-
ate students is due in part to the fact that they may have become com-
fortable with a "victimized woman" stance (see Butler 1985, 235). The
generalization "women are oppressed" gives these students a theoretical
position from which to deny the threatening fact that, as white people, as
U.S. citizens, and as (future) members of the upper/middle/professorial
class, they occupy the location that they usually assign to men: that of
perpetrator or dominator. This desire to deny (and therefore protect)
privilege is a crucial reason for resistance. A related reason has to do
with the assumption of innocence and moral superiority of the victim,
which can lead to a dangerously comfortable position, and one that may
be difficult to give up. There is remarkable resistance to acknowledging
that based on group belonging, most of us stand on both the target/re-
ceiving end of some oppressions and on the perpetrator side of other op-
pressions. Denying the importance of one form of oppression can become
a way to disavow one's position as a member of a dominant group by fo-
cusing on one's position as morally pure victim. 6 This denial is facili-
tated by the pervasive U.S. ideology of individualism, which makes it
harder to consider group belonging in any analysis (see Eisenstein in Mo-
hanty 1989-1990, 205).
Student resistance is often linked to feelings of defensiveness in the
face of a perceived personal attack. The partiality and perversity of the
dominant vision (Hartsock 1983) make it possible to operate what I call
an ideological reversal of reality whereby the person who objects to racist
comments is construed as the assailant. Antiracism activists are often
perceived as rude, offensive, or pathological people disrupting polite soci-
ety by stirring up unwarranted trouble. 7 This allows the persnn making
racist comments to discount the entire point and to retire to a position of
hurt dignity (Essed 1991). Essed concludes that as a result, "[t]he problem
is reversed: Racism is not the problem; people 'who go around accusing'
others of racism are the problem" (275). As one of the two resisting stu-
dents in my class pointed out, she was sick and tired of the "current ha-
tred for white women." This sounds eerily reminiscent of white men
(and some women) complaining of male bashing in the feminist class-
room. Rakow's analysis of "white males who most object to being decen-
tered in the classroom" applies to some white female students as well
NEG OTIATING TENSIONS 219

(1991, 11). 8 As in the case Rakow discusses, students who attempt "to
recenter the1nselves through the assertion of the dominant discourse ...
[tend] to feel themselves silenced because they learn their discourse will
not pass uncritiqued" 112). The ideological discourse that passes off the
dominant as victim is a very powerful weapon of the dominant: so-called
reverse racism/sexism and reverse discrimination are concepts that must
be exposed for what they are: ideological weapons used to enforce contin-
ued dominance. 9 As Memmi argues, "guilt is one of the most powerful
moving forces behind racist mechanisms. Racism certainly is one way
to fight ... r emorse. This is why privilege and oppression call so strongly
for racism. If there is oppression, there 1nust be a guilty party, and if the
oppressor himself will not plead guilty, which would soon be unbearable,
then the oppressed must be guilty. In short, racism is what allows the
victim to be charged with the crimes . .. of the racist" 11994, 150, my
translation). Resistance can thus be interpreted as a symptom of a refusal
to give up the privileges one has just begun to acknowledge as one's own.
The fear of losing one set of privileges when one experiences oppression
on another level may be a reason for refusing to take responsibility for
fighting all oppressions (see hooks 1994, 116). In the context of graduate
women's studies classes more specifically, I view the students' resistance
as being based on three closely related fears:
1. The fear that won1en's issues (narrowly defined through the lens of
gender) are being s ubsumed under other issues gaining prominence
!see hooks 1994, 113i Butler 1985, 236).
2. The fear that white women's experience of oppression, which had
so far been validated by fe1ninist theory and praxis, is los ing its
centrality.
3. The fear of losing the one safe space for women who experience
gender as the main category of oppression in academia.
Unexa1nined territorial feelings about feminist criticism were being
threatened in 1ny class. As Bernice Johnson Reagon 11983) eloquently ar-
gues, the concept of home is double-edged in that one's safe space can
very quickly become exclusionary and alienating to others !see also
hooks 1994, 113; Nnaemeka 1994, 302). While some white female stu-
dents ca1ne to the feminist graduate classroom expecting a safe space, a
ho1ne place, one of the students of color in the class wrote to me that she
"knew to some degree that taking a feminist theory class at U of I would
be an agonizing experience." One of the 1nost painful things for me
about the class has been the extent to which I was unable to prevent her
foreboding from coming true.
Because of the fears outlined above, some white female students in my
class became increasingly unwilling to share the power to define women's
220 RACE MATTERS

issues. They expressed more and more resistance against being challenged
to go beyond any matter that had not been part of their own experience as
white, middle-class women, especially with respect to race and racism. 10
They refused to acknowledge the power issues involved in who gets to de-
cide what counts as women's issues and which women's concerns are be-
ing represented at any given time (see Johnson-Odim 1991). Yet this is
precisely one of the main challenges feminism must rise to if it is to heed
the call of feminists of color: fighting against the oppression of all women
(Smith 1990). Otherwise, the risk is that feminism itself becomes an op-
pressive discourse for women who are the targets of other oppressions be-
side gender (King 1990; Jaimes and Halsey 1992; Rose 1992; Mohanty
1991).
Finally, several scholars point out that student resistance may be
linked to a struggle for authority in a context where the teacher is not a
1nature white male and s/he tries to implement less authoritarian peda-
gogical models (Rakow 1991; Friedman 1985). Even though in the femi-
nist classroom students would probably be initially suspicious of a male
feminist teacher (who would have to earn the students' trust by proving
he is an ally), unconscious mechanisms and expectations of women as
nurturing may still work to undermine a female teacher's position of
authority. When the teacher is not white, and especially if s/he is "teach-
ing to transgress" (hooks 1994, 1), students may feel empowered to con-
test or deny his or her authority (Ng 1993; Nnaemeka 1994). Even in a
feminist classroo1n, resistance may become an unconscious way to deny
women a position of authority more easily granted to men (Rakow 1991;
Friedman 1985). Although it is possible that some of this might have
been operating in my class, by no means do I wish to imply that I was
victimized by students since I was obviously the one in the position of
power in the classroom. I suspect that some of the white students might
have been experiencing feelings of betrayal by a white feminist teacher
questioning gender as the primary category of analysis in a feminist
criticism class.
To summarize, there are at least nine possible ways to account for stu-
dent resistance to intersectional approaches: students' personal invest-
ment in dominant paradigms; their denial of privilege; the continued
dominance of 1nonist frameworks of analysis in feminist classrooms; a
focus on one's position as morally pure victim; emotions such as defen-
siveness, guilt, anger; fear of seeing one's issues subsumed under larger
ones; fear of losing one's home turf; refusal to share the power of defini-
tion; and finally, resistance to female authority. Obioma Nnaemeka notes
that these nine possible causes are all facets of one central fear, that of
losing power. 11 The last section of this chapter proposes some strategies
that can be useful to address the problems I have been analyzing in the
first two sections.
NEGOTIATING ThNS IONS 221

Strategies to Challenge Student Resistance

It is perhaps easier to define student resistance and its nefarious effects
on learning and on classroom dynamics than it is to find effective peda-
gogical responses to it. In what follows, I outline five possible strategies
that have been developed and used by 1nyself and others.
1. Anticipate resistance. Discussions of issues of oppression, espe-
cially in multicultural classrooms, are bound to generate tensions, which
the instructor should be prepared to negotiate. I now begin each new
graduate class with essays discussing ethical issues in fen1inist scholar-
ship and research (hooks 1989; Patai 1991; Mohanty 1991), the role of
e1notions in epistemology (Narayan 1988), models of racial identity-
formation and student resistance (Tatum 1992; Hardiman and Jackson
1992), and classroom dynamics (Rothenberg 1988; Rakow 1991). The es-
say by Beverly Daniel Tatum is especially helpful !although she only
deals with models developed for black and white people). Providing stu-
dents with models of black and white racial identity develop1nent allows
students to put their feelings and those of others in a larger psychosocial
context so they realize that they are going through a general process,
which may in turn reduce anxiety and resistance. 12
Several instructors provide a list of ground rules for productive cross-
cultural class interaction at the beginning of the se1nester (Weinstein
and Obear 1992). The list 1nay include confidentiality, respect, honesty,
speaking for oneself only, using "I" messages (e.g., "1 feel angry about
what you said" rather than "you're wrong"), listening to each other with-
out interrupting, and being aware of one's feelings. Finally, a few instruc-
tors have included community-based service learning in their courses,
providing opportunities for students to work with social agencies serv-
ing various marginalized populations and to reflect on these experiences.
One of the results of including such a component is that it helps reduce
student resistance. Because the students are confronted directly with
other groups' marginalization, this helps open their 1ninds to experi-
ences different from their own IWashington 2000). In a theory class, such
an approach may also help bridge students' perceived gap between aca-
demia and activism.
2. "Make the interaction part of the discourse of the classroom,"
keeping in 1nind that discussing class dynamics will not always work to
resolve the1n (Rakow 1991, 11; see also Lewis 1990; Butler 1985, 236).
One way to increase the effectiveness of this strategy is to avoid remain-
ing at an abstract, intellectual level (so1netilnes a tall order in a graduate
criticism class!). Mohanty reminds us that radical pedagogy "involves
taking responsibility for the material effects of these very pedagogical
practices on students" (1989-1990, 192). A truly radical pedagogy would
integrate emotions in the epistemological 1nodel rather than attempt to
222 RACE MATTERS

circumvent them (Narayan 1988). For Tatum, "[i]nforming students at

the beginning of the semester that these feelings may be part of the
learning process is ethically necessary (in the sense of informed consent)
and helps to normalize the students' experience" (1992, 19). It is impor-
tant that the instructor be emotionally and pedagogically prepared to
deal with students' anger against her/him. Culley reminds us that if the
teacher "initiates a process challenging the world view and the view of
self of her students, she will surely-if she is doing her job-become the
object of some students' unexamined anger" (quoted in Rakow 1991, 12;
see also hooks 1994, 42). Moreover, an instructor of color will run the
risk of becoming a target of students' racism (Ng 1993t often couched
covertly in accusations of lack of professionalism. 13
3. Engage students in one-on-one dialogue outside of class as soon as
tensions develop. Brainstorm strategies with students committed to an-
tiracist action and foster alliances with them. Try to defuse the anger of
resisting students, engaging them one-on-one in nonthreatening ways
but make it clear to them that racist comments (like sexist ones) are not
acceptable in your class.
4. Resist the urge to identify with or protect the resisting students. 14
Learn to shift your concerns toward the progressive students (as we have
already learned to do with respect to gendered classroom dynamics).
This is a crucial issue, especially for teachers involved in multicultural
education in predominantly white settings. We expect resistance and are
often tempted to focus our efforts primarily on the students exhibiting
such attitudes. Hoping that their resistance is a function of ignorance
that can be overcome through education, we focus on their education to
the detriment of the education of the other students, who find them-
selves objectified and their very existence discounted in the process.
5. Refuse to engage recurring racist arguments when the second strat-
egy fails. I used to believe that it was better to have students voice their
prejudices rather than hypocritically repress them. I felt that repression
would only lead to a stronger resurgence of those prejudices later on. In
spite of the fact that the two students of color in the class explicitly dis-
agreed with me on this point, I kept on approaching the problem in this
way throughout the semester. I operated under the naive and misguided
assumption that once prejudice was expressed, it could be logically rea-
soned away. This strategy was unsuccessful because racism is an emo-
tionally based, self-interested belief rationalized after the fact by suppos-
edly logical arguments. That the logic be exposed as faulty does not
change the racist feelings that called for the creation of justificatory ar-
guments in the first place (Memmi 1994). Not only did I find that the
students' resistance became stronger and more vocal as they felt more
and more authorized to voice it, but the actual consequence of this posi-
tion was a privileging of the problem students' subjectivity and a nega-
NE GOTIATING TENSIONS 223

tion of the subjectivity of the students of color. Class discussion was

stuck on two students' repeated rejection of nonmonist approaches, pre-
venting the class as a whole from moving beyond Racism 101 and thereby
blocking the education process. With the knowledge gained from reflect-
ing on this experience, I now respond to the resistance arguments the
first few times, which is usually enough for many students to begin
questioning their assumptions and delve honestly into these complex is -
sues and the feelings they arouse in the1n (this did happen in the class for
some students). However, I would now refuse to engage resistance in
class if I felt it was turning into stalling tactics. 15
Cognitive dissonance (the destabilizing experience of having one's core
beliefs questioned) can result in two main responses: one can wrestle
with it, learn ing and growing in the process, or one can repeat edly deny
and resist it. In the terms of Janet Helms's 1990 model of white racial
identity development (as outlined in Tatu1n's 1992 essay), white people
who beco1ne aware of institutional racism and white privilege 1nay react
t o the discomforting nature of this newly found awareness either by tak-
ing on an antiracist position or by refusing this new knowledge and "re-
shaping [their] belief syste1n to be more congruent with an acceptance of
racism," transforming their guilt feelings into anger direct ed against peo-
ple of color (Tatum 1992, 15). This reintegration stage is expressed in the
women's studies classroom when students consistently ref use to let go of
their monist parameters even after being shown 1nany ti1nes that they are
oppressive to wo1nen of color. It is only in this case that refusal to engage
resistance within the classroom should be considered.
When the class becomes divided, and oppressive processes of domi-
nance are being reproduced in the feminist classroom, it is everyone's
responsibility, but especially the instructor's (as the one who does hold
final authority whether we want it or not, whether we feel we do or not )
to find ways t o stop these processes and to keep on challenging the repro -
duction of all systems of dominance in our classrooms (Lewis 1990;
Manicom 1992). It is crucia l that we not give up, nor stop integrating
courses because this work is too hard, or too divisive, or too uncomfort·
able. This work is a trernendous opportunity for us and our students to
grow, learn from each other, facilitate social change, and create hard-
won, long lasting alliances.

Notes
l. I especially thank Obiorna Nnaemeka and Jodi Byrd for their re1narkable
insights on this issue. This essay is pan of our continuing dialogue. Thanks
also go to Jael Silliman, the members of the Women Against Racism Co1n-
mittee, and anonymous reviewers for the NWSA Journal.
224 RACE MATTERS

2. Jodi Byrd, personal communication, 1996.

3. Personal conversation, 1995.

4. For an excellent discussion of the use of the free speech argument to justify
artistic/religious imperialistic appropriations of Native cultures, see Wendy
Rose (1992). For a discussion of how free speech in K-12 schools is applied
differentially according to gender, see Nan Stein (1995a). Stein reminds us
that "there is no First Amendment right to sexually harass" 11995a, 625), to
which I would add, or to harass others based on their race/ethnicity, class,
religion, sexual orientation, ability, age, etc. See also Matsuda et al. (1993)
and Roof (1999).

5. Jodi Byrd, personal conversation, 1995.

6. That resistance to discussions of the United States' continued colonialism

against Native nations also occurs in antiracism groups shows that resis-
tance to an analysis of privilege is not limited to race and racism issues.
Peggy McIntosh (1992) also draws links between males' and whites' denial
of privilege.

7. For a parallel analysis in the British context, see Gilroy (1994, 409-10).

8. In my class, the two male graduate students tended to be responsive to the

discussion, without ever monopolizing it.

9. This process is best exemplified in anti-affirmative action rhetoric. The re-

ality is that affirmative action does not unfairly tip the scales in favor of
people of color and women. Rather, it attempts, in a very small and imper-
fect way, to tilt the rigged scales ever so slightly into a less unequal position.
What this means for the groups that were traditionally used to being in a
position of privilege is that some of their privileges have been chipped away.
But these groups are not being discriminated against. There is a world of dif-
ference between loss of privilege and discrimination. The purpose of the
rhetoric of so-called reverse discrimination is to ensure that the dominant
groups retain all of their privileges, which is done by blaming the real vic-
tims of the system of dominance for their victimization. This perverse logic
can only work if the reality of structural power imbalances between groups
is hidden and erased. ,

10. This, incidentally, points to one of the main limitations of theorizing from
experience (see Manicom 1992).

11. Personal communication, 1996.

12. For example, Tatum points out that at one stage of the model, students are
often tempted to withdraw from the class, through absenteeism or not turn-
NEGOTIATING TENSIONS 225

ing in assignments (both happened in my class). Alerting students to this

possibility seems to reduce its incidence (1992, 6- 7).

13. Obio1na Nnae,neka, personal communication, 1996.

14. Jodi Byrd, personal conversation, 1995.

15. I am suggesting that instructors silence only recurring, aware racist atti-
tudes and remarks and respond to the unaware kinds with varying degrees
of strength depending on the context.

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Oppositional Consciousness in the Postmodern World." Genders 10:1-24.
- - . (1982) 1990. "Feminism and Racism: A Report on the 1981 National
Women's Studies Association Conference." In Making Face, Making Soul.
Haciendo Caras: Creative and Critical Perspectives by Feminists of Color,
ed. Gloria Anzaldua, 55-71. San Francisco: Aunt Lute Books.
Smith, Barbara. (1982) 1990. "Racism and Women's Studies." In Making Face,
Making Soul. Haciendo Caras: Creative and Critical Perspectives by Femi-
nists of Color, ed. Gloria Anzaldua, 25-28. San Francisco: Aunt Lute Books.
- -, ed. 1983. "Home Girls: A Black Feminist Anthology. New York: Kitchen
Table Press.
Sonnenschein, Frances M. 1988. "Countering Prejudiced Beliefs and Behaviors:
The Role of the Social Studies Professional." Social Education (April/May):
264-66.
Spivak, Gayatri Chakravorty. 1991. "Three Women's Texts and a Critique of Im-
perialism." In Feminisms: An Anthology of Literary Theory and Criticism,
ed. Robyn R. Warhol and Diane Price Herod!, 798-814. New Brunswick, NJ:
Rutgers University Press.
Stein, Nan. 1995a. "Is It Sexually Charged, Sexually Hostile, or the ·constitu-
tion? Sexual Harassment in K- 12 Schools." West's Education Law Reporter
(1 June): 621-31.
- - . 1995b. "Sexual Harassment in School: The Public Performance of Gen-
dered Violence." Harvard Educational Review 65(2):145-62.
Tatum, Beverly Daniel. 1992. "Talking About Race, Learning About Racism:
The Application of Racial Identity Development Theory in the Classroom."
Harvard Educational Review 62(1):1- 24.
NEG OT IATIN G TENSI ONS 229

Uttal, Lynet. 1990. "Inclusion Without Influence: The Continuing Tokenis1n of

Women of Color." In Making Face, Making Soul. Hacienda Caras: Creative
and Critical Perspec tives by Feminists of Color, ed. Gloria Anzaldua, 42-45.
San Francisco: Aunt Lute Books.
Warhol, Robyn R., and Diane Price Herndl, eds. 1991. Fe1ninisms: An Anthology
of Literary Theory and Criticism. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University
Press.
Washington, Patricia Ann. 2000. "From College Classroom to Co1nmunity Ac-
tion." Feminist Teacher 13 (1):l 2-34.
Weinstein, Gerald, and Kathy Obear. 1992. "Bias Issues in the Classroom: En-
counters with the Teaching Self." New Directions for Teaching and Learn-
ing 52(Winter):39-50.
Williams, Patrick, and Laura Chrisman, eds. 1994. Colonial Discourse and Post-
colonial Theory: A Reader. New York: Columbia University Press .
Yan1ato, Gloria. (1987) 1990. "Something About the Subject Makes It Hard to
Name." In Making Face, Making Soul. Ha ci enda Caras: Creative and Criti-
cal Perspectives by Feminists of Color, ed. Gloria Anzaldua, 20-2.4. San
Francisco: Aunt Lute Books.
Zinn, Maxine Baca, Lynn Weber Cannon, Elizabeth Higginbotham, and Bonnie
Thornton Dill. (1986) 1990. "The Costs of Exclusionary Practices in Wo1n-
en1s Studies." In Making Face, Making Soul. Ha cienda Caras: Creative and
Critical Perspectives by Feminists of Color, ed. Gloria Anzaldua, 29- 41. San
Francisco: Aunt Lute Books.
PART IV Bibliographies
CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Feminist Pedagogy: A Selective

Annotated Bibliography

LORI A. GOETSCH

This bibliography represents, for the most part, material published since
1986 and is intended to augment Carolyn M. Shrewsbury, "Feminist
Pedagogy: A Bibliography," Women's Studies Quarterly 15 (Fall/ Winter
1987): 116-24. It is also limited to items that are most readily available in
university libraries or that present a perspective that is unique in the
literature. As with Shre,.vsbury's bibliography, many of the items listed
demonstrate the continued interest in classroom dynamics, strategies,
and techniques. There is also still considerable attention being given to
the theoretical formulation of a feminist pedagogy and an examination
of its relationship to other theories such as liberation education and post-
rnodernism. Finally, an attempt was made to provide a balance of sources
from women's studies journals as well as the professional literature of
the disciplines, particularly education.
In addition to these citations, there are four major texts that are re-
peatedly cited in the literature and should be considered in any examina-
tion of this topic: Mary F. Belenky, Blythe McVicker Clinchy, Nancy
Rule Goldberger, Jill Mattuck Tarule, Women 's Ways of Knowing: The
Development of Self, Voice, and Mind (New York: Basic Books, 1986);
Charlotte Bunch and Sandra Pollack, Learning Our Way: Essays in Femi-
nist Education (Trumansburg, NY: The Crossing Press, 1983); Margo
Culley and Catherine Portuges, eds., Gendered Subjects: The Dynamics
of Feminist Teaching (New York: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1985); and
Kathleen Weiler, Women Teaching for Change: Gender, Class, and Power
(South Hadley, MA: Bergin and Garvey, 1988).

Adler, Emily Stier. "'It Happened to Me': How Faculty Handle Student Reactions
to Class Material" and responses. Feminist Teacher 3 (Fall- Winter 1987):
22-26. Describes the experiences with students' personal reactions to sex
and gender materials and suggests strategies for addressing self-disclosure.
Includes two responses from Joanne Belknap, who relates experiences teach-
ing a course on sexual assault, and Nancy Brooks, who presents the perspec-
tive of a sexual assault counselor.
Allen, Katherine R. "Integrating a Fen1inist Perspective into Fa1nily Studies
Courses." Family Relations 37 (January 1988): 29- 35. Provides overview of
women's studies and fe1ninist pedagogy and offers strategies for curriculum
integration.

Originally published in the Autumn 1991 issue of the NWSA Journal.

234 BIBLIOGRAPHIES

Boyle, Christine. "Teaching Law as if Women Really Mattered, or, What about
the Washrooms?" Canadian fournal of Women and the Law 2, no. 1 (1986):
96-112. Discusses the "hidden curriculum" in legal education as it relates
to women and reports on a small survey of the author's colleagues regarding
the inclusion of course materials on women and a feminist perspective on
law. Concludes with the author's perspective on fears faculty have when
contemplating a feminist pedagogical approach to teaching law.
Bricker-Jenkins, Mary, and Nancy Hooyman. "Feminist Pedagogy in Educa-
tion for Social Change." Feminist Teacher 2, no. 2 (1987): 36-42. Identifies
and discusses major themes in feminist research that make up a feminist
ideology (for example, end patriarchy, empowerment, process) and their
implications for teaching, course design, educational organization and
administration.
Brookes, Anne-Louise, and Ursula A. Kelly. "Writing Pedagogy: A Dialogue of
Hope." fournal of Education 171 (Spring 1989): 117-31. Presents a series of
letters between the two authors critiquing critical pedagogy, particularly
the work of Paulo Freire and Ira Shor, in terms of gender and silencing.
Burack, Cynthia. "Bringing Women's Studies to Political Science: The Hand-
maid in the Classroom." NWSA fou rnal 1 (Winter 1988-89): 274-83. De-
scribes the assignment of Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale in an
undergraduate political science program to address several pedagogical goals
and test the writer's personal and professional assumptions about pedagogy
and learning.
Caywood, Cynthia L., and Gillian R. Overing. Teaching Writing: Pedagogy,
Gender and Equity. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1987.
Davis, Barbara Hillyer, ed. fournal of Thought 20 (Fall 1985). Special issue on
feminist education.
Foss, Sonja K. "Implementing Feminist Pedagogy in the Rhetorical Criticism
Course." Paper presented at the annual meeting of the Speech Communica-
tion Association, San Francisco, California, 18-21 November 1989. ERIC,
ED 316 890. Describes unit design and identifies students' level of commit-
ment to feminism and the instructor's ambivalence about introducing a
feminist perspective as two major problems encountered.
Fraiman, Susan. "Against Gendrification Agendas for Feminist Scholarship and
Teaching in Women's Studies." Iris 23 (Spring-Summer 1990): 5-13. Dis-
cusses the inherent interdisciplinary nature of women's studies and the ten-
sions that disciplinary boundaries create in the classroom and in research.
Also calls for preserving the integrity of women's or feminist studies as op-
posed to gender studies. .
Gabelnick, Faith, and Carol Pearson. "Finding Their Voices: Two University of
Maryland Teachers Use the Myers-Briggs Typology Indicator to Help Stu-
dents Identify and Understand Diversity." Feminist Teacher 1 (Spring 1985):
11-17. Reports results of testing three hundred women's studies students in
an introductory course in order to redesign a course with large enrollment
to meet the learning needs of all students. Discusses each category or
"voice" expressed through the testing as it applies to students' learning and
classroom behaviors.
FEMINIST PEDAGOGY 235

Gardner, Saundra, Cynthia Dean, and Deo McKaig. "Responding to Differences

in the Classroom: The Politics of Knowledge, Class, and Sexuality." Sociol-
ogy of Education 62 (January 1989): 64-75. Describes the emergence of hier-
archical responses to classroom differences and its detrimental impact on
learning and offers suggestions for responding to these conflicts.
Gayle, Barbara Mae. "lmple1nenting Feminist Pedagogy in the Public Speaking
Course." Paper presented at the annual meeting of the Speech Co1n1nunica-
tion Association, San Francisco, California, 18-21 November 1989. ERIC,
ED 312 724. Presents assignments and an evaluation systern that empower
students and create a classroom co1nmunity.
Grumet, Madeleine R. Bitter Milk: Women and Teaching. Amherst: University
of Massachusetts Press, 1988.
Hayes, Elisabeth. "Insights from Wo1nen's Experiences for Teaching and Learn-
ing." New Directions for Continuing Education 43 {Fall 1989): 44-66. Dis-
cusses the principles of feminist pedagogy (for example, teacher-student
collaboration, holistic learning) as more effective in addressing women's
experience .
Heald, Susan. "The Madwo1nan in the Attic: Fe1ninist Teaching in the Mar-
gins." Resources for Feminist Research 18 (December 1989): 22-26. Dis-
cusses resistance to the changes that feminist pedagogy demands in both
the teacher's and the student's understanding of learning and knowledge by
analyzing student course evaluations. Also describes two teaching prac-
tices, critical media events, and autobiographical writing, as techniques to
help students revise their views of teaching and learning.
Hoffman, Leonore, and Margo Culley, eds. Women's Personal Narratives: Essays
in Criticism and Pedagogy. New York: Modern Language Association of
America, 1985.
Klein, Renate Duelli. "The Dynamics of the Women's Studies Classroo1n: A Re-
view Essay of the Teaching Practice of Women's Studies in Higher Educa-
tion." Women's Studies International Forum 10, no. 2 (1987): 187- 206. Com-
ments on the lack of theoretical literature on classroo1n practice, reviews
the literature on frequently cited teaching techniques in "gynagogy" (for
example, consciousness-raising, interactive learning/ teaching), and summa-
rizes teaching 1nethodology guidelines and two 1nodels for the study of
classroom dyna1nics. Extensive bibliography.
Laird, Susan. "Reforming 'Woman's True Profession': A Case for 'Feminist Peda-
gogy' in Teacher Education?" Harvard Educational Review 58 (November
1989): 449- 63. Assesses recent school refonn proposals, discusses the con-
cept of t eaching as "woman's true profession" from five different but inter-
related theses and suggests implications for the role of fe1ninist pedagogy in
teacher education.
Lewis, Magda, and Roger I. Simon. "A Discourse Not Intended for Her: Learning
and Teaching Within Patriarchy." Harvard Educational Review 56 (Novem-
ber 1986): 457-72. Presents alternating accounts fron1 a male teacher and a
female student about silencing in a graduate seminar and suggests several
ele1nents necessary to creating a "counter-patriarchic pedagogy" for mixed-
gender education.
236 BIBLIOGRAPHIES

Loring, Katherine, ed. "Feminist Pedagogy and the Learning Climate: Proceed-
ings of the Annual Great Lakes Colleges Association Women's Studies Con-
ference." Ann Arbor, Michigan, 4-6 November 1983. ERIC, ED 252 493. In-
cludes several papers on feminist pedagogy and teaching methods as well as
the text of the keynote speech by Barrie Thorne, "Rethinking the Ways We
Teach."
Maher, Frances A. "Inquiry Teaching and Feminist Pedagogy." Social Education
51 (March 1987): 186-88, 190-92. Describes these two models and compares
their approaches to teaching through examples of units from an American
history course.
- - -. "My Introduction to 'Introduction to Women's Studies': The Role of the
Teacher's Authority in the Feminist Classroom." Feminist Teacher 3 (Fall-
Winter 1987): 9-11. Describes the author's experiences applying her research
on feminist pedagogy, in particular, testing assumptions about teachers as
authorities.
- - - . "Toward a Richer Theory of Feminist Pedagogy: A Comparison of 'Lib-
eration' and 'Gender' Models for Teaching and Learning." fournal of Educa-
tion 169 (Fall 1987): 91-100. Discusses the contributions of liberation peda-
gogy and feminist theories of knowledge and learning to the development of
a feminist pedagogy and recommends a synthesis of the two in order to
achieve a fully developed feminist pedagogy.
- - - and Kathleen Dunn. "The Practice of Feminist Teaching: A Case Study of
Interactions among Curriculum, Pedagogy, and Female Cognitive Develop-
ment." Working Paper No. 144. Wellesley, MA: Wellesley College, Center for
Research on Women, 1984. Reports results of a case study of two introduc-
tory education courses and the influence of course content and teaching
methods on women students' self-awareness and self-concept.
- -- and Mary Kay Tetrault. "Feminist Teachers, Feminist Researchers, and
Knowledge Construction: Examples of Interact ive Teaching and Interpreta-
tion." Paper presented at the American Educational Research Association
annual meeting, San Francisco, CA, 27-31 March 1989.
Mahony, Pat. "Oppressive Pedagogy: The Importance of Process in Women's
Studies." Women's Studies International Forum 11, no. 2 (1988): 103-8.
Identifies and discusses problems that arise in the teaching of women's
studies in British universities, where a conventional hierarchical academic
model contradicts feminist pedagogy. Describes efforts to apply feminist
teaching methods to a course.
Miller, Janet L. "The Sound of Silence Breaking: Feminist Pedagogy and Curric-
ulum Theory." fournal of Curriculum Theorizing 4, no. 1 (1982):-4-11. Ex-
plores the silences of both teacher and student caused by the separation of
classroom experience from everyday life and identifies the development of
feminist and curriculum theories as attempts to challenge the silence.
Morgan, Kathryn Pauly. "The Perils and Paradoxes of Feminist Pedagogy." Re-
sources for Feminist Research 16 (September 1987): 49-52. Discusses the
contradiction between power/authority in the classroom and feminist peda-
gogy and analyzes three paradoxes concerning the feminist teacher as role
model.
FEMINIST PEDAGOGY 237

Nemiroff, Greta Hoffman. " Beyond 'Talking Heads': Towards an Empowering

Pedagogy of Women's Studies." Atlantis 15 (Fall 1989): 1-16. Discusses tradi-
tional pedagogy as impersonal and authority-based and suggests that the
educational philosophies of humanistic education and critical pedagogy (or
liberation education) are ones from which feminist educators can draw to
develop a feminist pedagogy. Also discusses various techniques for use in
the classroom.
Nicholson, Carol. "Postmodernism, Feminism, and Education: The Need for
Solidarity.'' Educational Theory 39 (Summer l 989): 197-205. Discusses post-
modernist theory, feminist influences and reactions to postmodernism, and
the i1nportance of listening to a feminist voice in defining and developing a
postmodernist pedagogy.
Pen ley, Constance. "Teaching in Your Sleep: Fe1ninism and Psychoana lysis," in
Theory in the Classroom, edited by Cary Nelson, 129-48. Urbana: Univer-
sity of Illinois Press, 1986. Discusses the relationship of feminist pedagogy
and psychoanalysis in terms of knowledge and authority.
Peters, Helene. "Fe1ninist Theory and Fe1ninist Pedagogy: The Ex istential
Woman." Paper presented at the National Women's Studies Association Con-
ference, Columbus, Ohio, 26-30 June 1983. ERIC, ED 236 106. Argues exis-
tentialism as a theoretical and methodological base for fe1ninist pedagogy.
Piussi, Anna Marie. "Towards a Pedagogy of Sexual Difference: Education and
Female Genealogy." Gender and Education, 2, no. l (1990) : 81 - 90. Suggests
that the rnajor problem in society and education is that the existence of two
sexes is not recognized. Encourages feminists to develop a pedagogy that
reestablishes relationships among women to "create symbolic and social
orders ... that correspond to their female way of being."
Regan, Helen B. "Not for Women Only: School Administration as a Feminist Ac-
tivity." Teachers College Record 91 (Summer 1990): 565-77. Co1npares fe1ni-
nist pedagogy and feminist school administration on the issues of voice and
authority. Traces the author's develop1nent as a feminist administrator and
reviews the literature on feminist pedagogy as it relates to administration.
Richardson, Nancy. "Feminist Theology/ Feminist Pedagogy: An Experi1nental
Program of the Wo1nen's Theological Center." Journal of Feminist Studies
in Religion 1 (Fall 1985): 115-22. Discusses the development and imple1nen-
tation of a "fe1ni nist n1odel of theological education" co1nbini ng fie ld work,
feminist theology and theory, and feminist spirituality and praxis.
Ritchie, Joy S. "Confronting the 'Essential' Problem: Reconnecting Feminist The-
ory and Pedagogy." Journal of Advanced Composition 2 (Fall 1990): 249-73.
Rockhill, Kathleen. "The C haos of Subjectivity in the Ordered Halls of Aca-
deme." Canadian Woman Studies 8 (Winter 1987): 12-17. Discusses the role
of consciousness raising as a means of creating a "feminist space" to con-
front a number of dichotomies like public/ private, emotional/ rational, sepa-
ratism/integration.
Rose, Suzanna. "The Protest as a Teaching Technique for Pron1oting Femini st
Activis111." NWSA Journal l (Spring 1989): 486-90. Describes a "protest
assignment" designed to motivate students' interest in and action for social
change.
238 BIBLIOGRAPHIES

Rosser, Sue V. "Teaching Techniques to Attract Women to Science: Applications

of Feminist Theories and Methodologies." Women's Studies International
Forum 12 (1989): 363-77. Makes several suggestions following the steps of
the scientific method for alternative approaches and techniques that can be
used in the science classroom to provide a more supportive environment for
women.
- - - . "Warming up the Classroom Climate for Women." Feminist Teacher 4
(Spring 1989): 8 - 12. Describes five exercises that can be used in faculty
workshops or in the classroom to raise issues about sexism.
Ryan, Margaret. "Classroom and Contexts: The Challenge of Feminist Peda-
gogy." Feminist Teacher 4 (Fall 1989): 39-42. Discusses the teaching of lit-
erature from a feminist perspective in the traditional classroom with partic-
ular attention to the perceived role of the female teacher as both mother and
authority. Suggests means of maintaining a feminist pedagogical approach
in disciplines other than women's studies.
"Sex and Gender" (special issue). Teaching Sociology 12, no. 3 (1985). Contents:
"Teaching Sex and Gender: A Decade of Experience" by Catherine White
Berheide and Marcia Texler Segal; "Teaching about Men and Masculinity:
Method and Meaning" by Meredith Gould; "Teaching Sex and Gender in
Sociology: Incorporating the Perspective of Women of Color" by Esther Ngan-
Ling Chow; "From Gender Seminar to Gender Community" by Laurel Rich-
ardson, Mary Margaret Fonow, and Judith A. Cook; "Learning about Gender
through Writing: Student Journals in the Undergraduate Classroom" by
Robin L. Roth; and "Resistances to Feminist Analysis" by Mary Jo Neitz.
Shapiro, Joan Poliner, and Carroll Smith-Rosenberg. "The 'Other Voices' in Con-
temporary Ethical Dilemmas: The Value of the New Scholarship on Women
in the Teaching of Ethics.'' Women's Studies International Forum 12, no. 2
(1989): 199-211. Describes an alternative ethics course designed to value
"the voice of the marginal and the disempowered." Includes student com-
ments on various ethical issues: feminism, homosexuality, abortion, race,
and pornography.
Thompson, Martha F. "The Power of No." Feminist Teacher 5 (Spring 1990):
24-25.
Torrey, Morrison, Jackie Casey, and Karin Olson. "Teaching Law in a Feminist
Manner: A Commentary from Experience." Harvard Women's Law Journal
13 (Spring 1990): 87-136.
Treichler, Paula A. "Teaching Feminist Theory," in Theory in the Classroom,
edited by Cary Nelson, 57-128. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1986.
Describes seven current "plots" representing feminist theoretical activity
and discusses theory's relationship to practice and pedagogy. Argues that
feminist theory is not cohesive but diverse and contradictory and suggests
the classroom as a forum for exploring these differences. Includes extensive
notes and bibliography.
Weedon, Chris. Feminist Practice and Post-structuralist Theory. Oxford: Black-
well, 1987.
Whatley, Marianne H. "A Feeling for Science: Female Students and Biology
Texts." Women's Studies International Forum 12, no. 3 (1989): 355-62. Pre-
FEMINIST PEDAGOGY 239

sents results of a study of eight secondary biology textbooks for their repre-
sentation of women as scientists as a means of promoting the sciences as a
field of study.
Wiss, Katy. "Conflict in the Women's Studies Classroom: Some Ideas for Cop-
ing." Woznen and Language 11 (Winter 1987): 14-16. Discusses the causes of
conflict in the classroom, reviews the feminist literature on the topic, and
offers suggestions for managing or avoiding conflict.
"Wo,nen's Studies Enters the 1990s: A Special Section on Feminism in (and out
of) the Classroom." Women 's Review of Books 7 (February 1990): 17- 32.
Contains twelve articles by feminist scholars, several of which discuss fem-
inist teaching, feminism in the classroom, and the development of fe1ninist
pedagogy.
CHAPTER S IXT EEN

Dynamics of the Pluralistic Classroom:

A Selected Bibliography

STEPHANIE RIGER, CARRIE BRECKE,

AND EVE WIEDERHOLD

The feminist movement has heightened awareness of two important phe-

nomena in institutions of higher education today. First, the demographics
of the student body have changed in recent years. Women are the "new
majority," and different groups of women bring varying educational needs
to the classroom. Second, discussion of sensitive issues related to gender
and ethnicity, such as abortion or civil rights, may unleash emotions in
the classroom that the teacher is often ill-prepared to handle.
Consider these scenarios:
1. "In this class, there will be a free exchange of ideas," the instruc-
tor of a teacher education course announces at the first meeting.
"Yeah, right," Paul, a white male student mutters. "Open discus-
sion doesn't exist-especially if you're a white male. I'm the bad
guy. I can't speak my mind." Concerned that Paul feels silenced, the
teacher encourages his participation. But Paul frequently makes
racist statements. The teacher faces a quandary: can she build Paul's
trust and deal responsibly with his racist expressions?
2. Lupe, a recent arrival from Mexico, has been sitting silent in the
back row for an entire semester. The teacher has emphasized the
importance of verbal participation in this writing class, but
attempts to draw Lupe into the discussion have failed. She hardly
responds to questions posed to her and conveys discomfort about
speaking in public. Her final research paper argues that she should
be allowed to uphold cultural traditions from her homeland that
respect silence.
3. In a gay and lesbian literature class, students are told to introduce
each other by telling one fascinating fact about themselves.
One-fourth of the students announce that they are married or
involved with a member of the opposite sex. This scenario is
repeated in a women's studies course in which sixteen out pf
twenty women introduce themselves with information about their
marriages, while none of the gay or lesbian students mentions a
partner because such declarations may be seen as scandalous. How
can the teacher use these first-day conversations to raise aware-
ness of heterosexual privilege?

Originally published in the Sum1ner 1995 issue of the NWSA f ournal.

DYNAMICS OF THE PLURALISTIC CLASSROOM 241

The Wo1nen's Studies Program at the University of Illinois at Chicago

began a discussion group in the spring of 1992 to address these and other
issues concerning the pluralistic classroom. Some of the topics consid-
ered by the discussion group included
• how to overco1ne the silence of women and 1ninority students in the
classroom;
• how to teach about race and racis1n; are there "appropriate" pedagogical
strategies for students from working-class ethnic backgrounds?
• what characterizes a "feminist" pedagogy?
• how can a teacher challenge racist, sexist, or heterosexist statements
without squelching free expression?
• how should a teacher respond when students become angry with each
other about issues of race, gender, sexual orientation?
• do students from varying ethnic and social class backgrounds have
different pedagogical needs? and
• how can a teacher most effectively incorporate issues of diversity into the
curriculum?
Background research for the discussion group led us to develop a bibli-
ography on how gender, race, ethnicity, and other social categories that
demarcate differential treat1nent in our society affect classroo1n interac-
tion. The purpose of this bibliography is to inform educators and others
of the diverse needs of students fro1n varying ethnic and social class
backgrounds. Many colleges and universities have beco1ne aware of the
needs of students from various backgrounds and have instituted diversity
requirements or in other ways encouraged faculty and students to ad-
dress issues of multiculturalism in the classroo1n. Resources are just
beginning to appear that will facilitate this task. This bibliography, for
example, could be used as a reading list for a faculty seminar on teaching
in the 1nulticultural classroo1n or as the basis for a faculty member's self.
education.
Selecting items for this bibliography was a daunting task because each
subheading could itself demand a complete bibliography. To limit the
scope, we restricted material to that which has been published fairly re-
cently and which is of interest to those in a variety of fields. Conse-
quently, we did not include material that is limited to one discipline,
such as publications by disciplinary associations. We have selected mate-
rial for inclusion in this bibliography that we have found to be both in-
formative and provocative, that is, material that both addresses how the
needs of diverse students affect the classroom and considers underlying
issues of fairness and equality.
As \.Ve worked, we found that organizing this bibliography raised dif-
ficult questions of how and whether one should identify the needs of
specific groups. For example, does distinguishing "general" questions
242 BIBLIOGR APHIES

about sex equity as different from the concern of Asian women contrib-
ute to the continued "marginalization" of this ethnic group? The act of
naming categories-Native American, African American, and so forth-
maintains the structure of margin and center and the resulting gender/
racial biases the articles seek to redress. These categories are also ficti-
tious in that they imply that the needs of, for example, all Latinos or
lesbians can be lumped together. Paradoxically, then, the desire to recog-
nize difference among groups simultaneously maintains boundaries of
sameness within each group.
But not identifying the various needs of different groups is equally
disturbing in that it maintains the status quo. A generalized notion of
"female student" or "ethnic student" is inadequate in addressing specific
problems facing the varying educational needs of the "new majority."
The particular issues facing these students will be ignored and/or subor-
dinated if pedagogical strategies are designed for the mythical "univer-
sal" student. At the same time, however, we should note that we have
not created a "European American" or a "middle class" category. The
articles that might fit these categories are instead filed under "general"
headings such as "overview." This is an unfortunate consequence of the
way the scholarship itself is organized. Researchers do not write articles
that explicitly address issues pertinent to "European Americans" or the
"middle class." Perhaps this will change as educators become aware of
the political overtones of making gender/race/class distinctions. Our
overriding concern in arranging this bibliography was that it be easily
accessible- and that requires, at this point, that the categories used in
the scholarship be maintained.
Although the bibliography as a whole is organized under the general
rubric of pedagogy, we have also included "pedagogy" as a subcategory.
The articles in this section specifically delineate strategies to be used in
the classroom. Some of the authors do not identify themselves as femi-
nists, but they entertain sympathetic philosophies. Further, sometimes
the issues addressed by the articles presented in this bibliography over-
lap. For example, some of the sources listed in the "student-teacher inter-
action" section contain advice about pedagogical strategies. We deter-
mined the primary focus of the articles, regardless of their titles, and
categorized them accordingly.

Women in the Academy: Defining the Issues

The following articles and books deal with issues affecting women both
inside and outside of the classroom, in public and private arenas. We have
divided the works into two categories: those that deal with the educa-
DYNAMI CS OP THE PLURALISTIC CLASSROOM 243

tional needs of women in general and those that pertain to wo1nen of

particular ethnic backgrounds and/or sexual preferences.

Sites of Struggle: Public and Private

Burstyn, J. N. (1993). "Has nothing changed in a hundred years? ": The salience of
gender to the undergraduate experience. American Journal of Education
101, 196- 202.
Hafner, A. L. (1989). The "traditional" undergraduate woman in the 1nid-1980s:
A changing profile. In Pearson, C. S., Shavlik, D . L., and Touchton, J. G.
(eds.), Educating the majority: Women challenge tradition in higher educa-
tion, 32-46. New York: Collier, Macmillan.
Hall, R. M., and Sandler, B. (1984). Out of the classroom climate: A chilly one for
women! Washington, DC: Project on the Status and Education of Wo1nen,
Association of American Colleges.
Heller, J. F., Puff, C.R ., and Mills, C . J. (1985). Assess1nent of the chilly college
climate for women. fournal of Higher Education 56, 446- 6 1.
Sandler, B. R. (1991 ). Women facu lty at work in the classroom; or, Why it still
hurts to be a woman in labor. Communication Education 40, 6- 15.
Sandler, B., and Hall, R. (1986). The campus climate revisited: Chilly for women
faculty, administrators, and graduate students. Washington DC: Pro ject on
the Status and Education of Women, Association of American Colleges.
Wyche, K. F., and Graves, S. B. (1 992). Minority women in academia: Access and bar-
riers to professional participation. Psychology of Women Quarterly 16, 429-37.

Sites of Struggle: Issues of Identity within the Academy

African American Women
Carroll, C. M. (1982}. Three's a crowd: The dilemma of the black wo1nan in
higher education. In Hull, G. T., Scott, P. B., and Smith, B. (eds.), All the
women are white, all the blacks are men, but som e of us are brave, 115-28.
New York : Feminist Press.
Cole1nan-Burns1 P. (1989}. African-Arnerican won1en- Education for what? Sex
Roles 21, 145-60.
Collins, P.H. (1989). The social construction of black feminist thought. Signs:
fournal of Women in Culture and Society 14, 745-73.
Delpit, L. D. (1987). Skills and other dilem1nas of a progressive black educator.
Equity and Choice 3, 9-14.
- - . (1988). The silenced dialogue: Power and pedagogy in educating other
people's children. Harvard Educational Review 58, 208-98.
Edwards, R. (1990). Connecting n1ethod and epistemology: A white woman in-
terviewing black women. Won1 en's Studies International Forum 13,
477-90.
Elam, J. C. (ed.). (1989). Blacks in higher education: O vercoming the odds. New
York: University Press of America.
Fle1ning, J. (1982). Fear of s uccess in black fe1na le and male graduate students.
Psychology of Wo1ne11 Quarterly 6, 327-41.
244 BIBLIOGRAPHIES

- - . (1983). Black women in black and white college environments: The mak-
ing of a matriarch. fournal of Social Issues 39, 41-54.
Griffin, J. T. (1986). Black women's experience as authority figures in groups.
Women's Studies Quarterly 14, 7-12.
Guy-Sheftall, B., and Bell-Scott, P. (1989). Finding a way: Black women students
and the academy. In Pearson, C. S., Shavlik, D. L., and Touchton, J. G. (eds.),
Educating the majority: Women challenge tradition in higher education.
New York: Collier Macmillan, 47-56.
Moses, Y. T. (1989). Black women in academe: Issues and strategies. Washington,
DC: Project on the Status of Women, Association of American Colleges.
Pollard, D.S. (1990). Black women, interpersonal support, and institutional change.
In Antler, J. and Bilken, S. K. (eds.), Changing education: Women as radicals
and conservators, 257-76. New York: State University of New York Press.
Russell, M. (1982). Black-eyed blues connections: Teaching black women. In Hull,
G. T., Scott, P. B., and Smith, B. (eds.), All the women are white, all the blacks
are men, but some of us are brave. New York: Feminist Press, 196-207.
Ugbah, S., and Williams, S. A. (1989). The mentor-protegee relationship: Its im-
pact on the academic and career development of blacks in predominantly
white institutions. In Elam, J. C., (ed.), Blacks in higher education: Over-
coming the odds. New York: University Press of America, 29-42.
Washington, M. H. (1985). How racial differences helped us discover our com-
rnon ground. In Culley, M., and Portuges, C. (eds.), Gendered subjects: The
dynamics of feminist education, 221-29. Boston: Routledge.

Asian Women
Chai, A. Y. (1985). Toward a holistic paradigm for Asian American women's
studies: A synthesis of feminist scholarship and women of color's feminist
politics. Women's Studies International Forum 8, 59-66.
Crittenden, K. S. (1991). Asian self-effacement or feminine modesty? Gender and
Society 5, 98- 117.
Sue, S., and Zane, N. (1 985). Academic achievement and socio-emotional adjust-
ment among Chinese university students. fournal of Counseling Psychology
32, 570-79.
Yamauchi, J. S. and Tin-Mala. (1989). Undercurrents, maelstroms, or the main-
stream? A profile of Asian Pacific American female students in higher edu-
cation. In Pearson, C. S., Shavlik, D. L., and Touchton, J. G. (eds.), Educating
the majority: Women challenge tradition in higher education. New York:
Collier Macmillan, 69-79.

Latinas
Cardoza, D. (1991). College attendance and persistence among Hispanic women:
An examination of some contributing factors. Sex Roles 24, 133-47.
Melendez, S. E., and Petrovich, J. (1989). Hispanic women students in higher edu-
cation: Meeting the challenge of diversity. In Pearson, C. S., Shavlik, D. L.,
and Touchton, J. G. (eds.), Educating the majority: Women challenge tradi-
tion in higher education. New York: Collier Macmillan, 57-68.
DYNAMICS OF THE PL U RALI STIC CLASSROOM 245

Nieves-Squires, S. (1991 ). Hispanic women: Making their presence on campus

less tenuous. Washington, DC: Project on the Status and Education of
Women, Association of A1nerican Colleges.
Rendon, L. I., and Nora, A. (1991). Hispanic women in college and ca reers: Prepar-
ing for success. In Wolfe, L. R. (ed.), Women , work, and school: Occupational
segregation and the role of education, 117-39. Boulder, CO: Westview.
Suarez-Orozco, M. M. (1989). Hispanics in the United States. In Central American
refugees and U.S. high schools (pp. 18- 48). Stanford: Stanford University Press.
Walsh, C . E. (1987). Schooling and the civic exclusion of Latinos: Toward a dis-
course of dissonance. fournal of Education 169, 115-31.
Zavella, P. (1989). The problematic relationship of femini sm and Chicana stud-
ies. Women's Studies 17, 25-36.
Zinn, M. B.(1982). Mexican-American wo1nen in the social sciences. Sign s: four-
nal of Women in Culture and Society 8, 259- 72.

Lesbians
Chamberlain, P. (1990). Homophobia in the schools; or, What we don't know will
hurt us. In O'Malley, S. G ., Rosen, R., and Vogt, L. (eds.), Politics of educa-
tion: Essays from Radical Teacher, 302-11. N ew York: State University of
New York Press.
Crumpacker, L., and Vander Haegen, E. M. (1987). Pedagogy and prejudice: Strate-
gies for confronting ho1nophobia in the classroo1n. Women's Studies Quar-
terly 15, 65-73.
- -. (1990). Valuing diversity: Teaching about sexual preference in a radical/
conserving curriculum. In Antler, J., and Bilken, S. K. (eds.), Changing edt1-
cation .· Women as radicals and conservators. New York: State University of
New York Press, 201-15.
Gaard, G. (1991). Opening up the canon: The importance of teaching of lesbian
and gay literatures . Feminist Teacher 6, 30-33.
Gordon, L. (1983). What do we say when we hear "faggot " ? Interracial Books for
Children Bulletin 14, 25-27.
McNaron, T.A.H. (1989). Mapping a country: What lesbian students want. ln
Pearson, C. S., Shavlik, D. L., and Touchton, J. G. (eds.), Educating the ma-
jority: Women challenge tradition in higher education. New York: Collier
Mac1nillan, 102-13.
Raymond, J. G. (1989). Putting the politics back in lesbianism. Women 's Studies
International Forum 12, 149-56.
Van Kirk, C. (1990). Sarah Lucia Hoagland's Lesbian Ethics: Toward new value
and ablen1indis1n. Hypatia 5, 145- 52.
Zimmerman, B. (1990). Lesbianis1n 101. In O'Malley, S. G., Rosen, R., and Vogt
L. (eds.), Politics of education: Essays from Radical Teach er. New York: State
University of New York Press, 22-33.

Native American Women

Ferron, R. (1989). A1nerican Indian women in higher education: Common threads
and diverse experiences. In Pearson, C. S., Shavlik, D. L., and Touchton, J. G.
246 BIBLIOGRAPHIES

!eds.), Educating the majority: Women challenge tradition in higher educa-

tion. New York: Collier Macmillan, 80-89.
Lafromboise, T. D., Heyle, A. M., and Ozer, E. J. 11990). Changing and diverse
roles of women in American Indian cultures. Sex Roles 22, 455-76.
Medicine, B. 11983). Indianwomen: Tribal identity as status quo. In Lowe, M.,
and Hubbard, R. !eds.), Woman's nature: Rationalizations of inequality,
63-73. New York: Pergamon.

Women Reentering the Academy

Chamberlain, M. K. led.). 11988). Re-entry women. In Women in academe: Prog-
ress and prospects, 61-81. New York: Russell Sage Foundation.
Culley, M. (1989). The authority of experience: Adult women in the college class-
room. Equity and Excellence 24, 67-68.
Karach, A. (1992). The politics of dislocation: Some mature undergraduate wom-
en's experiences of higher education. Women's Studies International Forum
15, 309-17.
O'Barr, J. 11989). Re-entry women in the academy: The contributions of a femi-
nist perspective. In Pearson, C. S., Shavlik, D. L., and Touchton, J. G. !eds.),
Educating the majority: Women challenge tradition in higher education.
New York: Collier Macmillan, 90-101.
Wolf, M. A. (1993). Mentoring middle-aged women in the classroom. Adult
Learning 4, 8-9, 22.

Working-Class Women
Gardner, S., Dean, C., and McKaig, D. (1989). Responding to differences in the
classroom: The politics of knowledge, class, and sexuality. Sociology of Edu-
cation 62, 64- 74.
Karen, D. (1991). The politics of class, race, and gender: Access to higher educa-
tion in the United States, 1960-1986. American fournal of Education 99,
208-37.
Linkon, S., and Mullen, B. (1995) Gender, race, and place: Teaching working-class
students in Youngstown. Radical Teacher 46, 27- 32.
Ryan, J., and Sackrey, C. (1984) Strangers in paradise: Academics from the work-
ing class. Boston: South End.
Tokarczyk, M. M., and Fay, E. A. (eds.). (1993). Working class women in the acad-
emy: Laborers in the knowledge factory. Amherst: University of Massachu-
setts Press.
'

Issues of Race and Diversity in the Academy

These works emphasize strategies for developing nonracist, nonexclu-
sionary practices in the classroom. Many of the works address the needs
of students whose ethnic heritage is not European American.
DYNAMICS OF THE PLURALISTIC CLASSROO M 247

Overview
Anthony-Perez, B. (1985). Institutional racism and sexism: Refusing the legacy in
education. In Treichler, P., Kramarae, C., and Stafford, B. (eds.), For alma mater:
Theory and practice in feminist studies. Urbana: University of Illinois Press.
Banfield, B. (1991}. Honoring cultural diversity and building on its strengths: A case
for national action. In Wolfe, L. R. (ed.}, Women, work, and school: Occupa-
tional segregation and the role of education. Boulder, CO: Westview, 77-93.
Brandt, G. (1986). The context of anti-racist education. In The realization of anti-
racist teaching, 61-109. Philadelphia: Falmer.
Cannon, L. W. (1990). Fostering positive race, class, and gender dynamics in the
classroon1. Women's Studies Quarterly 18, 126-34.
Collins, P.H. (1990). Black feminist thought: Knowledge, consciousness, and the
politics of empowerment. Boston: Unwin Hy1nan.
Gordon, V. V. (1990). Multicultural education: Some thoughts fro1n an Afrocen-
tric perspective . Black Issues in Higher Education 6 (16 Aug.}, 52.
Hughes, E. (1990). Taking responsibility for cultural diversity. Black Issues in
Higher Education 6 (18 January), 24-27.
Palmer, T. C. (1992). Changes in the neighborhood: Integrating the acade1ny and
diversifying the curriculutn. Women's Studies 20, 217-24.
Pence, E. (1982). Racism- A white issue. In Hull, G. T., Scott, P. B., and S1nith1 B.
(eds.), All the women are white, all the blacks are men, but so1ne of us are
brave. New York: Fe1ninist Press, 45-47.
Reid, P. T., and Co1nas-Diaz, L. (1990). Gender and ethnicity: Perspectives on
dual status. Sex Roles 22, 397-408.
Rothenberg, P. (1988). Integrating the study of race, gender, and class: Some pre-
liminary observations. Feminist Teacher 3, 37- 42.
- - - . (1990). Teaching racis1n and sexism in a changing A1nerica. In O'Malley,
S. G., Rosen, R., and Vogt L. (eds.), Politics of education: Essays from Radical
Teacher. New York: State University of New York Press, 35-45.
Tatun1, B. D. (1992). Talking about race, ]earning about racism: The application
of racial identity development theory in the classroom. Harvard Educa-
tional Review 62, 1-24.
Wolverton, T. (1983). Unlearning complicity, remembering resistance: White
women's anti-racis1n education. In Bunch, C., and Pollack, S. (eds.), Learning
our way, 187-99. Trumansburg, NY: Crossing.

Empowerment through Multicultural Pedagogy

Banks, J. A. (1993). Multicultural education: Issues and perspectives. Boston: Al-
lyn and Bacon.
Diaz, C . (ed.). (1992). Multicultural education for the 21st century. Washington,
DC: National Education Association.
Giczkowski, W. (1992). The influx of older students can revitalize college teach-
ing. Chronicle of Higher Education, 25 March, B3-B4.
Martin, R. J. (1991). The power to empower: Multicultural education for student-
teachers. In Sleeter, C. (ed.), Empowerment through multicultural educa-
tion, 287- 97. New York: State University of New York Press.
248 BIBLIOGRAPHIES

Mattai, P. (1992). Rethinking the nature of multicultural education: Has it

lost its focus or is it being misused? fournal of Negro Education 61,
65-77.
McCormick, T. M. (1994). Creating the nonsexist classroom: A multicultural
approach. New York: Teachers College.
Rhoades, G. (1991). Dealing with racism in the classroom. Feminist Teacher 6,
34- 36.
Schoem, D. L., Frankel, L., Zuniga, X., and Lewis, E. A. (eds.). (1993). Multicul-
tural teaching in the university. Westport, CT: Praeger.
Sleeter, C. (1991). Multicultural education and empowerment. In Sleeter, C. (ed.),
Empowerrnent through multicultural education. New York : State Univer-
sity of New York Press, 1-23.
Takata, S. R. (1991). Who is empowering whom? The social construction of em-
powerment. In Sleeter, C. (ed.), Empowerment through multicultural educa-
tion. New York: State University of New York Press, 251-71.
Thompson, B. W., and Tyagi, Sangeeta. (1993). Beyond a dream deferred: Multi-
cultural education and the politics of excellence. Minneapolis: University
of Minnesota Press.

Sex Equity and Women of Color

Bogart, K. (1985). Improving sex equity in postsecondary education. In Klein, S.
(ed.), Handbook for achieving sex equity through education, 470-88. Balti-
more: John Hopkins University Press.
Christian, B. (1989). But who do you really belong to- black studies or women's
studies? Women's Studies 17, 17-23.
Huratado, A. (1989). Relating to privilege: Seduction and rejection in the subordi-
nation of white women and women of color. Signs: fournal of Women in
Culture and Society 14, 833-55.
Jones, L. H. (1986). Racism and sexism. Women's Studies Quarterly 14, 54-55.
Lewis, S., et al. (1985). Achieving sex equity for minority women. In Klein, S.
(ed.), Handbook for achieving sex equity through education. Baltimore:
Johns Hopkins University Press, 365-90.
Mead, M . (1986). The feminist challenge. Women's Studies Quarterly 14, 17-18.
Omolade, B. (1987). A black feminist pedagogy. Women's Studies Quarterly 15,
32-39.
Pheterson, G. (1988). Alliances between women: Overcoming inter.n alized op-
pression and internalized domination. In Minnich, E., O'Barr, J., and Rosen-
feld, D. (eds.), Reconstructing the academy: Women's education and wom-
en's studies, 139-53. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. '

Pedagogy

The following works focus on what to do in the classroom and why.

Some of these sources discuss the theoretical bases of feminist pedagogy,
while others offer advice on how to put theory into practice.
DYNAMICS OF THE PLURALISTIC CLASSROOM 249

Theories of Teaching
Bezucha, R. J. (1985). Fen1inist pedagogy as a subversive activity. In Culley, M.,
and Portuges, C. (eds.), Gendered subjects: The dynamics of feminist educa-
tion. Boston: Routledge, 81-95.
Clinchy, B. M., Belenky, M. F., Goldberger, N ., and Taru le, J. (1985). Connected
education for women. fournal of Education 167, 28-45.
Cocks, J. (1985). Suspicious pleasures: On teaching feminist theory. In Culley,
M., and Portuges, C. (eds.), Gendered subjects: The dynarnics of feminist
education. Boston: Routledge, 171-182.
Conway, J. K. (1987). Politics, pedagogy, and gender. Daedalus 116, 137-52.
Culley, M ., Dia1nond, A., Edwards, L., Lennox, S., and Portuges, C. (1985). The
politics of nurturance. In Culley, M., and Portuges, C. (eds.), Gendered sub-
jects: The dynamics of feminist education. Boston: Routledge, 11-21.
Feminist pedagogy: A n update. (1993). Women's Studies Quarterly 21 (3 and 4).
Lather, P. (1991). Getting smart: Feminist research and pedagogy with/in the
postmodern. New York: Routledge.
Lyons, N. (1990). Visions and competencies: An educational agenda for exploring
the ethical and intellectual dimensions of decision-making and conflict nego-
tiat ion. In Antler, J., and Bilken, S. K. (eds.), Changing education : Women as
radicals and conservators. New York: State University of New York Press,
277-94.
Maher, F. A. and Tetreault, M. K. T. (1994). The feminist classroom: An inside
look at how professors and students are transforming higher education for a
diverse society. New York: Basic.
Musil, C. M. (1992). The courage to question : Women 's studies and student
learning. Washington, DC: Association of American Colleges.
Rothenberg, P. (1989). The hand that pushes the rock. Women's Revievv of Books
6 February, 18- 19.
Scanlon, J. (1993). Keeping our activist selves alive in the classroom: Feminist
pedagogy and political activism. Feminist Teacher 7, 8-13.
Shor, I. (1980). Critical teaching and everyday life. Boston: South End.
Shrewsbury, C. M. (1987). What is fe1ninist pedagogy? Women's Studies Quar-
terly 15, 6- 13.
- -. (1993). Feminist pedagogy: An updated bibliography. Women's Studies
Quarterly 21, 148- 60.
Statham, A., Richardson, L., and Cook, J. (1991). Gender and university teaching:
A negotiated difference. Albany: State University of New York Press.
Tompkins, J. (1990). Pedagogy of the distressed. College English 52, 653-60.

Pedagogical Strategies
Banks, J. (1991). A curriculum for e1npowennent, action, and change. In Sleeter,
C. (ed.), Empowerment through multicultural education. New York: State
University of New York Press, 125-41.
Boyte, H., and Evans, S. M. (1991). Power and the language of difference. Liberal
Education 77, 20-23.
250 BIBLIOG RAPHIES

Brandt, G. (1986). Constructing an anti-racist pedagogy. In The realization of

anti-racist teaching, 110- 46. Philadelphia: Falmer.
Bright, C. (1987). Teaching feminist pedagogy: An undergraduate course. Wom-
en's Studies Quarterly 15, 96-100.
Brunner, D. (1992). Dislocating boundaries in our classrooms. Feminist Teacher
6, 18- 24.
Butler, J. E. (1985). Toward a pedagogy of every woman's studies. In Culley, M.,
and Portuges, C. (eds.), Gendered subjects: The dynamics of feminist educa-
tion . Boston: Routledge, 230-39.
Cannon, L. W. (1990). Fostering positive race, class, and gender dynamics in the
classroom. Women 's Studies Quarterly 18, 126- 34.
Cross, T., et al. (1982). Face-to-face, day-to-day racism. In Hull, G. T., Scott, P. B.,
and Smith, B. (eds.), All the women are white, all the blacks are men, but
some of us are brave. New York: Feminist Press, 52-56.
Disch, E., and Thompson, B. (1990). Teaching and learning from the heart. NWSA
Journal 2, 68-78.
Fisher, B. (1989). The heart has its reasons: Feelings, thinking, and community-
building in feminist education. Women's Studies Quarterly 15, 47-58.
Guy-Sheftall, B. (1991). Practicing what you preach: Strategies of an ex-English
professor. Liberal Education 77, 27-29.
Klein, S. S., Russo, L. N., Campbell, P. B., and Harvey, G. (1985). Examining the
achievement of sex equity in and through education. In Klein, S. (ed.), Hand-
book for achieving sex equity through education. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins
University Press, 1-11.
Maher, F. (1987). Inquiry teaching and feminist pedagogy. Social Education 51,
186-92.
Minnich, E. K. (1991). Discussing diversity. Liberal Education 77, 2-7.
Olguin, R. A. (1991). Classroom culture and cultural diversity: Teaching in the
crossfire. Liberal Education 77, 24- 26.
Rakow, L. F. (1992). Gender and race in the classroom: Teaching way out of line.
Feminist Tea cher 6, 10-13.
Rothenberg, P. (1988). Integrating the study of race, gender, and class: Some pre-
liminary observations. Feminist Teacher 3, 37-42.
Schniedewind, N. (1983). Feminist values: Guidelines for teaching methodology
in women's studies. In Bunch, C., and Pollack, S. (eds.), Learning our way.
Trumansburg, NY: Crossing, 261-71.
Shaw, L. L. and Wicker, D. G. (1981). Teaching about racism in the classroom and
in the community. Radical Teacher 18, 9-14.
Shor, I. (1987). What is the dialogical method of teaching? In Shor, I., aqd Freire,
P., Pedagogy for liberation: Dialogues on transforming education, 97-119.
South Hadley, MA: Bergin and Garvey.
Spelman, V. (1982). Combatting the marginalization of Black women in the
classroom. Women's Studies Quarterly 10, 15-16.
Suzuki, B. H. (1991). Unity with diversity: Easier said than done. Liberal Educa-
tion 77, 30-34.
DYNAMICS OF THE P LU RA LISTI C C LASS ROOM 251

Criticisms of Feminist Pedagogy

Bilken, S. K., and Shakeshaft, C. (1985). The new scholarship on wo1nen. In
Klein, S. (ed.), Handbook for achieving sex equity through education. Balti-
more: Johns Hopkins University Press, 44-52.
Bunch, C. (1983). Not by degrees: Feminist theory and education. In Bunch, C., and
Pollack, S. (eds.), Learning our way. Trumansburg, NY: Crossing, 248- 60.
Diamond, A. (1985). Interdisciplinary studies and a femini st community. In Tre-
ichler, P., Kramerae, C. and Stafford, B. (eds.), For alma mater: Theory and
practice in feminist studies. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 199-208.
Evans, M. (1990). The problem of gender for women's st udies. Women's Studies
International Forum 13, 457- 62.
Gorelick, S. (1 991 ). Contradictions of feminist 1nethodology. Gender and Society
5, 459-7 7.
Kremer, B. (1990). Learning to say no: Keeping feminist research fo r ourselves.
Women's Studies International Forum 13, 463-67.
Rothenberg, P. (1991). Opinion. Chronicle of Higher Education 10 Apr., B1-B3.
Ruggiero, C.(1990). Teaching women's studies: The repersonalization of our poli-
tics. Women's Studies International Forum 13, 469- 75.
Wexler, P., Martusewicz, R., and Kern, J. ll 987). Popular education politics. In
Livingston, D. (ed.), Critical pedagogy and cultural power, 227- 43. South
Hadley, MA: Bergin and Garvey.
Zinn, M. B., Cannon, L. Y. Higginbotham, E., and Dill, B. T. (1988). The costs of
exclusionary practices in women's studies. In Minnich, E., O' Barr, J., and
Rosenfeld, D. (eds.), Reconstructing the academy: Women 's education and
women's studies. Chicago: Universi ty of Chicago Press, 125-38.

Student-Teacher Interaction
Gender/racial issues may affect the ways in which students and teachers interact
with each other in the classroom. The following works discuss the dyna1n-
ics of that interaction.

Sex Differences in Student-Teacher Interaction

Basow, S., and Distenfeld, M. S. (1985). Teacher expressiveness: More important
for male teachers than fema le teachers? fournal of Educational Psychology
77, 45-52.
Boers1na, P. D., Gay, D., Jones, R. A., Morrison, L., and Remick, H. (1981). Sex dif-
fe rences in college student-teacher interactions: Fact or fantasy? Sex Roles 7,
775-84.
Brooks, V. R. (1982). Sex differences in student don1inance behavior in female
and n1ale professors' classrooms. Sex Roles 8, 683- 90.
Crawford, M., and Macleod, M. (1990). Gender in the college classroom: An as-
sessment of the "chilly climate" for wo1nen. Sex Roles 23, 101-22.
D weck, C . S., Davidson, W., Nelson, S., and Enna, B. 11978). Sex differences in
learned helplessness: II. The contingencies of evaluative feedback in the
252 BIBLIOGRAPHIES

classroom. III. An experimental analysis. Developmental Psychology 14,

268-76.
Hall, R. M., and Sandler, B. (1982). The classroom climate: A chilly one for
women! Washington, DC: Project on the Status and Education of Women,
Association of American Colleges.
Kramarae, C., and Treichler, P. A. (1990). Power relationships in the classroom.
In Gabriel, S. L., and Smithson, I. (eds.), Gender in the classroom, 41-59. Ur-
bana: University of Illinois Press.
Lewis, M., and Simon, R. I. (1986). A discou rse not intended for her: Learning and
teaching within patriarchy. Harvard Educational Review 56, 457-72.
Sadker, M., and Sadker, D. (1994). Failing at fairness: How America's schools
cheat girls. New York: Scribner's.
Statham, A., Richardson, L., and Cook, J. A. (199 1). Conclusions and i m plications
for teachers and administrators. In Statham, A ., Richardson, L ., and Cook, J.
(eds.), Gender and university teaching: A negotiated difference. Albany:
State University of New York Press, 122- 39.
Sternglanz, S. H ., and Lyberger-Ficek, S. (1977). Sex differences in st udent-teacher
interactions in the college classroom . Sex Roles 3, 345-52.

Race/Sex Difference in Student-Teacher Interaction

Gay, G. (1975). Teachers' achievement expectation of and classroom interactions
with ethn ically different students. Contemporary Education 46, 166- 71.
Grant, L. (1984). Black females' "place" i n desegregated classrooms. Sociology of
Education 57, 98-11 l.
Irvine, J. J. (1984). Teacher communication as related to race and sex of the stu-
dent. fournal of Educational Research 78, 338- 45.
- - . (1986). Teacher-student interaction s: Effects of student race, sex, an d
grade level. fournal of Educational Psychology 78, 14- 21~
Jenkins, M. M. (1990). Teachi ng the new majority: Guidelines for cross-cultural
communication bet ween student s and faculty. Feminist Teacher 5, 8-14.
Rakow, L. F. (1991). Gender and race in the classroom: Teaching way out of line.
Feminist Teacher 61 10-13.

Student Participation
Karp, D. A., and Yoels, W. C. (1976). The college classroom: Some observations on
the meanings of student participation. Sociology and Social Research 60,
421-39.
Shapiro, J. P. (1990). Nonfeminist and feminist students at risk. Women'~ Studies
International Forum 13, 553-64.
Tompkins, J. (1990). Pedagogy of t he dist ressed. College English 52, 653-60.

Authority in the Classroom

Beck, E.T. (1983). Self-disclosure and the commitment to social change. In Bunch,
C., and Pollack, S. (eds.), Learning our way. Trumansburg, NY: C rossing,
285-91.
DYNAMI CS OF THE PLURALISTI C CLASSROOM 253

Caughie, P., and Pearce, R. (1992). Resisting "the dominance of the professor":
Gendered teaching, gendered subjects. NWSA Journal 4, 187-99.
Culley, M. (1985). Anger and authority in the introductory women's studies
classroom. In Culley, M., and Portuges, C . (eds.), Gendered subjects: The
dynamics of feminist education. Boston: Routledge, 209-17.
Grauerholz, E. (1989). Sexual harassment of women professors by students: Ex-
ploring the dynamics of authority and gender in a university setting. Sex
Roles 21, 789-801.
Richardson, L., Cook, ]., and Statha1n, A. (1983). Down the up staircase: Male
and female university professors' classroom management strategies. In
Richardson, L., and Taylor, V. (eds.), Feminist frontiers (pp. 280- 87). New
York: Random House.
Statham, A., Richardson, L., and Cook, J. A. (1991). Authority manage1nent in
the classroom. In Statham, Richardson, and Cook, 103-22.

Mentoring
Fisher, B. (1988). Wandering in the wilderness: The search for women role mod-
els. In Minnich, E., O'Barr, J., and Rosenfeld, D. (eds.), Reconstructing the
academy: Women 's education and women's studies. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 234-56.
Hall, R. M., and Sandler, B. (1983). A cademic mentoring for women st uden ts
and faculty: A new look at an old way to get ahead. Washington, DC: Proj-
ect on the Status and Education of Women, Association of American
Colleges.
Sheldon, An1y. (1990). He was her mentor, she was his 1nuse: Wo1nen as m entors,
new pioneers. Wo1nen in the linguistics profession 208-22. Washington DC:
Committee on the Status of Wo1nen in Linguistics of the Linguistic Society
of America.

Evaluation
Barnes, L. L. (1990). Gender bias in teachers' written con11nents. In Gabriel, S. L.,
and Smithson, I. (eds.), Gender in the classroom. Urbana: University of Illi-
nois Press, 140-58.
Basow, S., and Silberg, N . (1987). Student evaluations of college professors: Are
fe1nale and male professors rated differently? fournal of Educational Psy-
chology 79, 308-14.
Feldman, R. A. (1992). College students' views of 1nale and fe1nale college teach-
ers. Research in Higher Education 33, 317-75.
Kaschak, E. (1978). Sex bias in student evaluations of college professors. Psychol-
ogy of Women Quarterly 2, 235-43.
- -- . (1981). Another look at sex bias in students' evaluations of professors: Do
winners get the recognition that they have been given? Psychology of Women
Quarterly 5, 767-72.
Kierstead, D., D 'Agostino, P., and Dill, H. (1988). Sex role stereotyping of college
professors: Bias in students' ratings of instructors. fou rn al of Educational
Psychology 80, 342-44.
254 BIBLIOGRAPHIES

Martin, E. (1984). Power and authority in the classroom: Sexist stereotypes in teach-
ing evaluations. Signs: fournal of Women in Culture and Society 9, 482-92.
Tieman, C.R., and Rankin-Ullock, B. (1985). Student evaluations of teachers: An
examination of the effect of sex and field of study. Teaching Sociology 12,
177-91.
Top, T. J. (1991). Sex bias in the evaluation of performance in the scientific, artis-
tic, and literary professions: A review. Sex Roles 24, 73-106.
Vasquez, J. A. and Wainstein, N. (1990). Instructional responsibilities of college
faculty to minority students. fournal of Negro Education 59, 599-610.

Bias in Testing and Textbook Materials

Feiner, S. F., and Roberts, B. B. (1990). Hidden by the invisible hand: Neoclassical
economic theory and the textbook treatment of race and gender. Gender and
Society 4, 159-81.
Ferree, M. M., and Hall, E. J. (1990). Visual images of American society: Gender
and race in introductory sociology textbooks. Gender and Society 4, 500-33.
Lewin M., and Wild, C. (1991). The impact of the feminist critique on tests, as-
sessment, and methodology. Psychology of Women Quarterly 15, 581-96.
Martin, E. (1991). The egg and the sperm: How science has constructed a ro-
mance based on stereotypical male-female! roles. Signs: fournal of Women in
Culture and Society 16, 485-501.
Peterson, S. B. and Kroner, T. (1992). Gender biases in textbooks for introductory
psychology and human development. Psychology of Women Quarterly 16,
17-36.
Plake, B. S., Loyd, B. H., and Hoover, H. D. (1981). Sex differences in mathematics
components of the Iowa Tests of Basic Skills. Psychology of Women Quar-
terly 5, 780-84.
Scott, K. P., and Schau, C. G. (1985). Sex equity and sex bias in instructional ma-
terials. In Klein, S. (ed.), Handbook for achieving sex equity through educa-
tion. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 218-32.
Whatley, M. H. (1989). A feeling for science: Female students and biology texts.
Women's Studies International Forum 12, 355-61.

Language
These works discuss the means by which common linguistic practices place fe-
male speakers in subordinate positions while influencing the ways that men
and women communicate. Some of the works address the linguistic differ-
ences that separate ethnic populations from the European American lin-
guistic community.

Language Acculturation
Adamsky, C. (1981). Changes in pronominal usage in a classroom situation. Psy-
chology of Women Quarterly 5, 773- 79.
DYNAMI CS OF THE PLURALI ST IC CLASSROOM 255

Borker, R . (1980). Anthropology: Social and cultural perspectives. In McConnell-

Ginet, S., Barker, R., and Funnan, N. (eds .), Won1en and language in litera-
ture and society, 26-44. New York: Praeger.
Davies, B., and Banks, C. (1992). The gender trap: A fe1ninist post-structuralist
analysis of primary school children's talk about gender. Tournal of Curricu-
lum Studies 24, 1-25.
De Lisi, R., and Sound ranayagam, L. (1990). The conceptual structure of sex role
s tereotypes in college students. Sex Roles 23, 593 -61 l.
Edelsky, C. (1981). Who's got the floor? Language in Society 10, 383-421.
Foster, J. D., Hannu1n, L. E., McMinn, M. R., and Troyer, P. K. (1991 ). Teaching
non sexist language to college students. fournal of Experi1nental Education
59, 153- 61.
Kramarae, C . (1980). Proprietors of language. In McConnell-Ginet, S., Borker, R.,
and Furman, N. (eds.), Women and language in litera ture and society. New
York: Praeger, 58- 68.
Wolfson, N ., and Manes, J. (1980). "Don't 'dear' me!" In McConnell-Giriet, S.,
Borker, R., and Funnan, N. (eds.), Wo1nen and language in literatu re and
society. N ew York: Praeger, 79-92.

Linguistic Imposition
Martyna, W. (1 980). The psychology of the generic masculine. In McConnell-
Ginet, S., Borker, R., a nd Furman, N . (eds.), Women and language in litera-
ture and society. New York: Praeger, 69-78.
O'Barr, W. M., and Atkins, B. K. (1980). " Women's language" or "powerless lan-
guage"? In McConnell-Ginet, S., Barker, R., and Furman, N. (eds.), Women
and language in literature and society. New York: Praeger, 93-110.
Ruiz, R. (1991). The empowerment of language-minority students. In Sleet er, C.
(ed.), Empowerment through multicultural edu cation. New York: State Uni-
versity of N ew York Press, 217-27.
Tannen, D . (1994). Gender and discourse. New York: Oxford Universit y Press.
Thorne, B. 11989). Rethinking the ways we teach. In Pearson, C. S., Shavlik, D .
L., and Touchton, J. G. (eds.), Educating the majority: Women challenge tra-
dition in higher education. New York: Collier Mac,ni llan, 31 1-25.
Treichler, P. A., and Kramarae, C. 11 983 ). Wo ,nen's talk in the ivory tower. Com-
munication Quarterly 31, 118-32.
Walsh, C. (1991 ). Pedagogy and the struggle for voice. New York: Bergin and
Gar vey.

African American Discourse

Jordan, J. (1988). Nobody 1nean more to n1e than you and the future life of Willie
Jordan . Harvard Educational Review 58, 3 63- 74.
Stanback, M. H. (1985) Langu age and black wo1nan's place: Evidence from the
black middle class. In Treichler, P., Kra1nerae, C. and Stafford, B. (eds.), For
alma mater: Theory and practice in feminist studies. Urbana: Universit y of
Illinois Press, 177-93.
256 BIBLIOGRAPHIES

Williams, S. 11991). Classroom use of African American language: Educa-

tional tool or social weapon? In Sleeter, C. led.), Empowerment through
multicultural education . New York: State University of New York Press,
199-215.

I
Contributors

DALE M. BAUER is a professor of English and women's studies at the Uni-

versity of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign. H er book, Sex Expression and
A1nerican Women's Writing, is fort hco1ning fr om Un iversity of N orth
Carolina Press.
CARRIE BRECKE is the director of the Writing Center and an instructor of
English and women's and gender studies at Roosevelt University in
Chicago. H er current research explores the rhetorics of privilege in the
docu1nentary An Inconvenient Truth and "peerness" in writing center
tutoring sessions.
PAMELA L. CAUGHIE is a professor and the graduate progra1n director in the
English department at Loyola University Chicago. She publishes on
modernist literature, feminist and postmodernist theory, and pedagogy.
H er current project ext ends her analysis in Passing and Pedagogy t o
class issues in literature, popular culture, and the acade1ny.
ROBBIN D. CRABTREE is the dean of the College of Arts and Sciences and
Professor of Co1nmunication at Fairfield University. H er research
emphasizes understanding media in relation to social structures,
revolutio n, development, and globalization. She has published widely
about service-learning theory and practice, as well as feminis t m e-
dia criticis1n and pedagogical theory and practice in i nt ernational
contexts .
AN NE D ONA DEY is an associate professor of European studies and wom-
en 's studies at San Diego State University. Her research focuses on
franc ophone and anglophone postcolonial feminist literature. H er pub-
lications include a book on Assia D jebar and Lei'la Sebbar, Recasting
Postcolonialism: Women Writing between Worlds, and the co-edited
volu1ne Postcolonial Theory and Francophone Literary Studies w ith
H. Adlai Murdoch.
MARY MA RGARET FONOW is a professor and the director of women and
gender Studies at Arizona State University. H er research interests in-
clude feminist 1nethodology, transnation al fe1nin is t labor activism,
and qu eer labor organizing. She is the author of Union Women : Forg-
ing Feminism in th e United Steelworkers of America.
ESTELLE B. FREEDMAN is the Edgar E. Robinson Professor in U.S. His tory
at Stanford University. She recently edit ed Th e Essential Feminist
Reader and published the collection Feminism , Sexuality, and Poli-
tics. She is currently writing about the politics of rape in U.S.
history.
258 CONTRIBUTORS

SAUNDRA GARDNER is an associate professor of sociology at the Univer-

sity of Maine. Her research and teaching interests include the sociol-
ogy of family, domestic violence, sexual identity, and mental health.
LORI A. GOETSCH is a professor and the dean of libraries at Kansas State
University. Her research areas include library workforce development
and other topics in library administration and management.
ANNIS H . HOPKINS teaches in the English department at Southern Illi-
nois University Edwardsville, as well as part-time at Rio Salado Col-
lege in Tempe. During her thirty-year career, she has taught in middle
school, high school, community college, and university settings, in-
cluding in the women's studies program at Arizona State University
from 1986 to 1999.
SAL JOHNSTON is an associate professor of sociology at Whittier College.
sal's current research interests include gender and food systems
research .
LILI M. KIM is the Henry R. Luce Assistant Professor of History and
Global Migrations at Hampshire College. She is currently completing
a book on the experience of Korean Americans on the home front dur-
ing World War II and working on a project on the history of Korean
migration to Argentina and remigration to the United States.
ADELA C. LICONA is an assistant professor at the University of Arizona
where she teaches in the Rhetoric, Composition, and the Teaching of
English Program. She is affiliated with the Institute for LGBT Studies
and the programs in Women's and Mexican American Studies. Her re-
search interests include borderlands rhetorics, Chicana theory, docu-
mentary film/ media, and community literacies. ' She currently serves
as president of board of the NWSA Journal.
DEBIAN MARTY is an associate professor in the Division of Humanities
and Communication at California State University, Monterey Bay.
Her current research interests include communication ethics, cooper-
ative argumentation, and conflict resolution.
MARALEE MAYBERRY is a professor of sociology at the University of South
Florida. Her current research foci include school-level change factors as-
sociated with high school Gay-Straight Student Alliances and identity
formation processes associated with chemical education researchers.
JOHN MIHELICH is an associate professor of sociology and anthropology at
the University of Idaho. His current research includes critical peda-
gogy, religious pluralism in the United States, and social class, culture
and community.
RICHARD PEARCE is a retired professor of history at the University Col-
lege of Saint Martin's College, Lancaster, England. He is also a Fellow
of the Royal Historical Society. His publications include Britain: Do-
mestic Politics 1918-39, Britain: Society, Economy and Industrial
Relations 1900-39, and The Unifi.cation of Italy.
CONTRIBUTORS 259

MARGARET N. (PEG) REES is a professor of geoscience at University of N e-

vada, Las Vega s (UNLV). She is also executive director of the UNLV
Public Lands Institute and a 1nember of her university's Depart1nent
of Women's Studies Advisory Board. Her research explores globally
significant events recorded in Cambrian-age strata.
STEPHANIE RICER is a professor of psychology and gender and wo1nen's
studies at the University of Illinois at Chicago. She is author of Trans-
forming Psychology: Gender in Theory and Practice and co-author of
Evaluating Services for Survivors of Domes tic Violence and Sexual
Assault. Her current research focuses on the i1npact of welfare reform
on intimate violence and the evaluation of services for survivors of
domestic violence and sexual assault.
REBECCA RoPERS-HurLMAN is a professor of higher education at the Uni-
versity of Minnesota. Her current research explores identity, diversity,
and change agents in educational settings. She has published books
focused on women's experiences in higher education, has served as
Director of the Women's Center and as Director of Women's and Gen-
der Studies at Louisiana State University, and is current editor of the
NWSA Journal.
SUZANNA ROSE is the senior associate dean for the sciences and a profes-
sor of psychology and women's studies at Florida International Univer-
sity in Mia1ni. She has published extensively on \-vomen's issues, in-
cluding personal relationships and professional networks. She
incorporates feminist activism into her teaching and her work as a
consultant concerning strategic career planning in academe.
DAVID ALAN SAPP is an associate professor and the director of the Pro-
grain in Professional Writing at Fairfield University. He is a workplace
co1n1nunication specialist with expertise in co1nmunity-based and
inter/transnational applications of communication theory and tech-
nology. His scholarship on intercultural cooperation and critical re-
flection explores ongoing struggles of disenfranchised populations.
DEBBIE STORRS is the associate dean of the College of Letters, Arts, and
Social Sciences at the University of Idaho. Her current research ex-
plores rural health care activism, transformative pedagogy, and libera-
tion sociology.
EVE WIEDERHOLD is an assistant professor of English at George Mason
University. Her current research explores representation and de1no-
cratic politics in relation to rhetoric and public sphere theories.
JULIA T. WOOD is the Lineberger Distinguished Professor of Humanities
and Professor of Communication Studies at the University of North
Carolina at Chapel Hill. Her current research focuses on intimate part-
ner violence and the issue of voice in the lives of girls and women.
'
Index

absenteeism, 224-25nl2 pedagogy, 4; in flux, 24; gendered, 27,

academy, women in the: bibliography, 35; historicizing, 24; inability to
242- 46; race and diversity abdicate, 36; 1nale, 31, 35-37, 69-70;
bibliography, 246-48 1nale students and, 69; narrative
active learning, 46, 49; antiracist, 218. See authority, 33, 34; patriarchy related,
also praxis; social/community action 23; pedagogy of oppressed on, 197;
activism: feminist, 121; individual, 107, potentially hegemonic role of, 27;
108; lessons about feminis1n, 125; power and caring, 9; as provisional,
professorial responsibility, 175; 24; resistance to, 24 - 25, 220; as
protest as teachjng technique, 171-75; rhetorical effect, 23; as self-reflexive
teaching as, 10; techniques, 172 process, 38; structure of, 27; student
affinity groups, 63 view of, 45; viscera I mornents, 42-43;
affirmative action, 224n9 in Virginia Woolf, 33, 38
African A1nericans: anthology, 199; authority, professorial: bibliography,
bibliography, 243- 44; current events 236, 238, 252- 53; as central concept,
days, 199; discourse (bibliography), 7-9; classroom paradoxes, 35, 36;
255-56; race and gender, 204- 5; critiqued, 210; facilitator role, 139- 40;
students, 14, 48, 198, 201, 205; lectures, 181; limits of agency, 52;
won1en's studies and, 206 1nale or fe1nale, 8, 27, 35; male as
agency, limits of, 52 genderless nonn, 9; 1nale versus
agonistic learning transactions, 34, 36 fe1nale students, 37; not enacting
anger: in consciousness-raising, 124, "teacher role," 50; Socratic n1ethod,
137nl3; in distance learning, 183; 181- 82; student resistance, 220
professor as object, 222 "authorized speakers," 7- 9
anthropology, 66-67
antiabortion activists, 120 Ballot Measure 9 (Oregon ), 81, 89, 90
anti-affinnative action rhetoric, 219, banking 1nethod of education, 98
224n9 beauty, standards of, 134
antigay legislation, 81 Bet ween the A cts {Woolf), 32-33
art, unifying power of, 32 bias: teacher, 35; testing (bibliography),
artists, fe1nale, 32 254; textbook n1aterials (bibliography),
Asian Americans: bibliography, 244; as 254
professors, 196-97, 201-2; video, bibliographies, described, 15-16, 233,
207n2 240- 43
attendance requiren1ents, 186 body postures, 70- 71
authoring, 8
authority: ambivalence over, 23- 24; caring, ethics of, 4- 5, 40; constraints of
bibliography, 236, 237; as central pedagogy, 53; educational practices,
concept and dilemma, 7-9; 41; and faculty, 46; participants and
challenging oppression, 223; perfonnance, 53; personal experience
claiming, 8, 24- 25; claims justi 6ed by and, 43-53; power related, 41- 42,
experience, 23; contesting gender 44-45, 50, 53; silence as choice,
politics, 6; critique, 37; dangers of, 24, 55- 56nl; student view of, 46;
54; decentralization of, 98; early transforming, 47; unresolved
feminist criticism, 23; in feminist concerns, 44-45; voice of, 141-43, 145
262 INDEX

Chicana(s)/Latina(s), 126, 127, 135n2, constructionist approaches, 159, 167,

198, 201, 202, 240; bibliography, 168n2
244-45 conversation, gendered, 12
classroom dynamics: potential, 108; course evaluations, 82-83
power and caring, 49; questions critical consciousness, 94, 106
addressed, 5; race issue, 13-15; critical race theory, 14, 195
student resistance, 221- 22; white critical thinking, 82, 90-91
privilege, 202-3; women of color, 213; criticism, process of, 43
women's studies literature, 4 cross-cultural approach: course using,
classroom practices: affective aspects, 66-72; social construction of gender,
138; aim of pedagogy of, 182; 64, 66-68; studying variations, 67, 75n4
bibliography, 235, 236; consciousness- cultural relativism, 67, 73
raising, 119; course content related, cultural voyeurism, 75n4
11; essentialism, 72; experiential Culture, Gender, and Sexuality course,
method, 95; feminist principles 66-72
related, 2; ground rules, 221; curriculum: defined, l; in literature, 3
heterosexism, 91; homosexuality, 87; curriculum reform: antiessentialist
listed, 210; multiple voices, 34; analyses in, 89; bibliography, 233;
overview, 11-13; pedagogical debates, 74nl; goals proposed, 74;
bibliography, 249-50; personal how taught, 62-63; implications of,
experience, 184; postmodernist, 80, 37-38; monist versus intersectional
83-85; power ruptures, 51-53; racism views, 217-18; philosophy and theory
by omission, 211; student related, l l; science education, 95, 97,
interactivity, 184-88; student 109-11; team teaching, 110; what is
resistance, 221, 224-25nl2; teacher taught, 60-62; who should teach
authority, 8; team teaching, 72-73 what to whom, 63-65; women's
class size, 181, 234 studies, 59
coalition building, 125
cognitive dissonance, 223 dance of power, 45
collaborative learning, 34, 62, 111, 154 Death Valley field trip, 102
collaborative production of knowledge, 97 deconstruction, use of term, 83-84
coming out: attitudes toward, 130; by Dewey, John, 3
professor, 82; importance, 162; letters difference in the classroom,
(class exercise), 84, 120, 129-31, bibliography, 235
136n8, 160; queer professors, 82; disaster, concept of (science), 105
reactions to, 162; sexuality and, discussions in class: consciousness-
71-72; stories used in class, 160, 166 raising, 11; domestic violence, 154.
communication: gender differences, See also small groups
143-44; goals, 14; principles, 144 distance learning: current courses,
community-based service learning, 177-78; interactivity issues, 184-88;
221 issues summarized, 13; lecture
comparison strategy, 60-61, 73 format, 180, 181-84; methods and
co1npetitive models, 34 programs, 177; obstacles, 178-79; other
connected knowing, 197 benefits, 188-89; usual courses,
consciousness-raising: bibliography, 237; 190nl; women's studies via, 177-81
coming out assignment, 130; in diversity: bibliography, 240-48; distance
distance learning, 179; evaluating learning, 182; in domestic violence,
usefulness, 120-25; fear of feminism, 152-53; guidelines, 163; language
118; 1970s experiences, 117; over- honoring, 163; multicultural pedagogy
valorization of, 108; personal bibliography, 247-48; panels, 85-87,
experience validated, 197; 169n7; science education, 95-96;
summarized, 11; use of term, 117 sexual identity issues, 159-90;
INDEX 263

strategies for incorporating, 60-62; as fairness: standards, 166; voice of,

women's studies focus, 60; women's 141- 43, 145, 147
studies impact on, 206 family: analyzing, 90, 151; courses on,
domestic violence: college course about, 89; violence in, 157n3
150-51; defined, 157n3; feelings of fathers and daughters, 36
hopelessness and despair, 150; female develop1nent, 147, 148nl
quantitative versus qualitative views, fe1nale nurturing, 30, 31
152; resource list, 153; safe space and, femininity, 67, 71
12; survivors of, 152-53 femini sm: co1nfort with, 125;
domination, 31; gender and, 68- 71; consciousness-raising, 121; defensive
1natrix of, 203 reactions to, 1.33; defined, l; fear of,
118; in hostile environment, 118,
earthquake epicenters, calculating, 122-23, 174; identifying with, 132;
104-5 lesbian association with, 129;
Earth Systen1s, A Feminist Approach prejudices about, 131-32; as radical
course, 94; awareness changes, 106- 8; challenge, 204; reevaluating, 132;
rationale, 95-97 self-knowledge as key, 84; for women
education: class size, 181, 234; of color, 203
environ1nents, 5; general fe1ninist activis1n, 121
requirements of, 60, 118, 159, 181, 189 fem inist authority: nature of, 24. See
egalitarianism: cooperative learning, 62; also authority
dangers of, 54; as ideal, 5, 40, 214 feminist classroom: power and caring,
e1notional responses, 221-22 54; traits of, 37
empowering students: caring and, 44; feminist pedagogy: assu1nptions, 2, 3;
conscious ness-raising, 124, 125; bibliography, 234, 248- 51; challenge
constraints, 40; goals of women's to knowledge creation, 97;
studies, 62; limits of agency, 52; oral characteristics, 4-6; classroo1n
history, 200; as organizing principle, practices in, 11- 13; complexities, 3;
198; reevaluating, 210; resisting criticis1ns of (bibliography), 251;
racism, 201; sexual identity and, 160; defined, l, 210; difficulties often
teacher authority, 8; use of power, 9; experienced, 63- 64; enactment, 51;
in women's studies, 74n2 goals, 4; identifying needs of different
environmental issues, 106- 9 groups, 241- 42; intersectional
essentialism: antiessentialists and, 83; analyses in, 13- 15; limitations, 41;
classroom practices, 72; defined, 83; literature on, 3-4, 233- 39, 248-51;
as Enlightenment idea, 83; everyday 1najor texts, 233; major themes
assumptions, 68- 69; and fen1inist (bibliography), 234; not "pure"
writings, 159; gender and sexuality, practice, 40- 41; philosophical
66; homosexual identities, 71; identity influences, 3; as political tool, 197;
statements, 82; in liberatory practical challenges, 6; praxis, 7-11,
education, 73; in politics of 106; questions raised, 3 -4; race and,
experience, 64; posunodernist 13-15· risks 6· roots of 3-4·
I I I I I

pedagogy, 80; poststructural traditional approach co1npared, 62;

deconstruction, 12; reasons to engage, use of term questioned, 2-3; writers
91; in student expectations, 66; team profiled, 17
teaching challenge to, 59, 65; who can feminist postmodern ism, 67
teach, 9-10 fem inist posts tructuralism, 42, 43
ethnocentrism, 67 fe1ninist theory, 1, 2, 6, 15, 189, 219, 238;
ethnography, 67 bibliography, 238, 238
evaluation practices: bibliography, 253- 54; femin inity, constructions of, 59
defined, l; science education, 110 first-generation students, 14, 196-97
existentialism, bibliography, 23 7 food disorders, 120
264 INDEX

freedom from harassment, 216, 224n4 lives, 163-64; free speech issues,
free speech in the classroom, 215-16, 215-16; racism and, 162; religious
224n4 right, 80-81; relocating responsibility
Freire, Paulo, 3, 98, 197, 210, 217 for attitudes, 164
homosexuality: classroom practices, 87;
gay-affirming classrooms, 162 defense of, 89; educator role, 130;
gender: authority related, 8; dominance equal rights, 166; Oregon, 80-81;
and, 68-71; as organizing principle, 16; prejudices, 129; student experiences,
racial discrimination compared, 204- 5; 161-62; women of color, 202
response styles, 146; sexuality and, 86; housework, politics of, 123
social construction of, 64, 66-68;
voices of caring and fairness, 147 identity: categories, 84;
Gender and Communication course, interconnectedness, 166; multiple,
138-44 marginalized, 160; politics and use of
gender differences: cultural panels, 12, 85, 167
constructions of, 33; Virginia Woolf ideological reversal of reality, 218
on, 28- 29, 33 ideology of teaching, 2
gender socialization, 145 incest, 120, 131, 136n9
gender studies: male and female in-class team projects, 180
experiences, 61; team teaching, 72-73 inclusive classrooms, power in, 48
grading, 99 inclusive curriculum, 59
graduate seminar on contemporary independent projects, 187
feminist criticism, 211- 12 Independent Study by Correspondence
graduate students, race issues, 209 course, 188
group discussion: consciousness-raising, individualism, ideology of, 218
11; on social constructs, 88. See also institutional power structures, 5;
small groups feminism as "subversive," 41
group reports, 155 inst ruction, defined, 1
growing-up narratives, 160 interaction, role of, 221-22
guest speakers, 182-83, 186 interactivity issues, distance learning,
gynocentric models, 34-35 184- 88
interdisciplinary literature, 111
Handmaid's Tale, The (Atwood}, 234 intersectional analyses: causes for
heterosexism, 91; as culturally student resistance to, 216-20;
debilitating, 166; heterosexual consciousness-raising course, 126;
privilege, 240 growing use, 16-17; lives of women of
heterosexuality: classroom practices, 91; color, 195; monist analyses compared,
construction of, 84; deconstructing, 209; overview, 13-15; race and gender,
161; distortion of experiences, 165; 205-6; sexuality and gender course,
"normalcy" of, 71-72, 164-65; 59; in women's studies, 60
pressures, 160 Introduction to Feminist Stuc}ies: Issues
heterosexual panels, 164-65, 167 and Methods course, 117-18
hierarchy, invisibility of, 64. See also Introduction to Women's Studies course,
nonhierarchical relationships 212 ,
higher education settings: bibliography,
243; demographics, 240; nature of, 41; journaling, 184, 187
poststructuralist tenets, 43, 44
home, concept of, 219 knowledge: connected, 101-4, 197; (de}
homogeneity, assumption of, 214 constructing, 104-5; feminist
homophobia: coming out letters, 129- 31; pedagogy, 94, 97, 182, 184; feminist
confrontations, 163; as culturally poststructuralism, 43;
debilitating, 166; distorting lesbian interdisciplinary, 94, 99-101, 104, 111;
INDEX 265

personal experience, 63, 65, 70, 84-85; 1uale resistance, 118, 123
political nature of, l, 118; power and, male students: consciousness-raising,
90, 198; production of, 4, 87, 97; 123; defining agendas, 139; linguistic
scientific, 94, 95- 97, 100, 105, 106; imposition bibliography, 255; vocal
social (action) context, 106, 109, 156, nature of, 139
198; transformative, 109; !un)enclosed, masculinity, 65, 67, 71; of science, 95
97-101 math anxiety, 104-5
matrix of domination, 2- 3
lang, k.d., 88 men: as gendered beings, 65; gendered
language issues bibliography, 264-56 con sciousness of, 64. See also main
learning, role for teachers, 54 entries beginning male
lecture format: distance learning, 180, mentoring, bibliography, 253
181- 84; ongoing value, 13 m isogyny, as organizing principle, 1
legal education, 234 modernist narratives, 31- 32
lesbian(s): bibliography, 245; of color, 1nonist fra meworks, 209, 211, 213,
160, 202; defensive protectionism, 217- 18, 220, 223
166; fear of rejection, 131; as 1nora l theory, 138
frightening, 129; impression mulattoes, 204-5
manage1nent, 161; incest survivor,
131; journals on gays and, 169- 70nl6; narration, politics of, 37
lesbianis1n as total hun1an experience, narrative authority, 8, 27; in classroo1n, 34
163, 167; and parenting, 164; narrative for ms: contingency of, 33;
professors' identity clai1ns, 85; sha1ne expectations of, 33; 1notives and
and, 86; use of term, 86; in Virginia desires, 32; priority and diversity, 31;
Woolf, 32, 33 in Virginia Woolf, 29-31
lesbian panels: contents of, 160- 61; narrative methods, 34
host ility to, 162-63; panelists, 169n7; Native A1nericans, 224n6; bibliography,
as pedagogical tool, 159; sense of 245-46
community, 167; student reactions, neocolonial cultural appropriation, 209
159; summarized, 12 new 1najority, wo1nen as, 240, 242
liberal education, goal of, 147 nonhierarchical relationships, 5, 40, 62,
liberalism critiques, 195 74, 166, 172, 210
liberation/ liberatory pedagogy, 3; nontraditional students, distance
bibliography, 236, 237; curriculum learning, 182
reform, 59; difficulty of applying, 62; nonverbal behavior, 69
essentialism in, 73; femin ist pedagogy non-Western cultural pract ices, 209. See
and, 3, 210 also cross-cultural approach
linguistic issues bibliography, 254- 56 National Wo1nen's Studies Association,
listening: ability to, 122; responses 209
analyzed, 140 National Wom en 's Studies Association
literature on feminist pedagogy, 9, 41 fournal, Tl1 e, 6-17

mainstreaming incorporating diversity objectivity issue, science education and,

and, 61-62 96
1nale authority, 31; personal experience, oil-exploration gan1e, 101-2
35-37; rights view, 148113. See also oppression: challenging student
authority resistance to, 221, 224-25n l 2;
male hege1nony, 33- 34 confronting, 183; as gender-based,
1nale instructors: bibliography, 251-52; 209; guilt and racis1n, 219;
lack criticized, 61, 63, 64-65; male interlocking nature of, 15;
students and, 69 1nultifaceted nature of, 205-6, 209;
1nale paradox, 36 politics of experience, 65;
266 INDEX

oppression (cont.) 68; as limiting, 68, 84; (not)

"simultaneous," 126; in women's privileging experience, 84-85;
studies, 74n2 oppression, 65; same-sex behaviors,
oral history assignments, 199-200 71-72
Oregon Citizens Alliance, 80-81 postmodernism: addressing critics, 10;
Oregon's timber communities, 90 bibliography, 237; in classroom
other: identity panels, 85; in Virginia practices, 80, 83-85; major themes,
Woolf, 32, 33, 38 83; uses of, 14, 91
poststructuralism, 9; criticisms, 42;
panel(s). See diversity, panels; potential, 42; uses of, 14
heterosexual panels; lesbian panels power: bibliography, 236; caring
Paris is Burning (film), 88 related, 41-42, 53; in classroom, 5,
participatory strategies: egalitarianism, 41; classroom practices, 84-85;
5; frequency of use, 2 dualistic categories, 84; in
passivity in class, 70 educational setting, 42, 43;
patriarchy: authority and power related, examining, 6, 40; fluid nature of, 45,
23; Virginia Woolf on, 28 50; gendered, 28; for graduate
pedagogy: culture related, l; limits of students, 45-46; inclusive
theory, 37; radical, 221-22; use of classrooms, 48; knowledge and, 90;
term, 1. See also fem inist pedagogy participants and performance, 53;
performativity, 88 and patriarchy, 23; and personal
personal experience: action related, 171; experience, 43-53; potential of
bibliography, 233; confronting pedagogical practice, 45; reflexivity,
oppression, 183; consciousness-raising 5; in scientific community, 96;
goals, 197; curriculum reform, 117; silence as choice, 55-56n l; student
distance learning, 184; domestic resistance and, 216-17, 220; student
violence, 151; editing narratives, 166; view of, 45; transforming definitions,
evaluating as tool, 120-21; in feminist 47; in university, 197; unresolved
pedagogy, 4; integrating, 117; linkages concerns, 44-45, 53; uses of, 44;
to larger structures, 1, 62; male visceral moments, 42-43
authority, 35-37; male views, 63, 123; praxis, 7; fostering, 106-9; overview,
1nediation, 84 politics of affinity and 7-11
action versus, 10; politics of experience, private sphere bibliography, 243
63; power and caring, 43-53; race and privilege of dominance, 64
gender, 204-5; science education, 95; progressive education movement, 3
sexual identification, 165; in small protest as teaching technique, 13,
groups, 119; team teaching, 70-71; as 171-75; antifeminist backlash, 174;
therapeutic pedagogy, 197; "who can bibliography, 237
teach" issue, 63 psychoanalytic theory, 88
personal as political, 6, 7, 51, 84, 108, public sphere: bibliography, 243; concept
132 critiqued, 214-15; free speech and safe
personal growth: feelings of efficacy, space issues, 15
174; self-understanding, 189
petition-signing drives, 172 queer, use of term, 86
politics: of the classroom, 34; of queer theory, 67
housework, 123; of identity, 68, 167;
radicalism, 132, 133-34; strategies of race: bibliography, 247-48;
teaching about 173-74; of syllabus consciousness-raising, 121, 126-28;
construction, 152; of teaching and gender versus, 204-5, 211-12; graduate
narration, 37 seminar summarized, 14-15; mixed
politics of experience, 9, 63-65; groups of students, 126-27, 128;
critique, 73; cross-cultural view, overview of issues, 13-15; student-
INDEX 267

teacher interaction bibliography, 252; role-play exercises, 147

traditional approach, 64. See also Roorn of One's Own, A (Woolf), 8,
racism 27- 28, 38
racial educator role, 126, 127, 128
racism: by omission, 211; challenging safe space: in antifeminist environment,
expressions of, 213, 215, 240; 118, 122- 23; consciousness-raising,
classroom conversation, 211; defined, 122-23, 124-25, 134; defined, 210;
210; as fe1ninist issue, 205; four types, domestic violence class and, 12, 154,
200, 210-11; homophobia and, 162; 156; fear of loss of, 219; homogeneity
instructor responsibility, 215; assumptions, 214-15; issues
internalized, 127, 200-201; as norm, summarized, 15; in larger context, 63;
195; other fonns of oppression and, for lesbian panels, 163; racism, 211;
196; reasoning with, 222-23, 240; science instruction, 97; s1nall groups,
reconstructed racists, 215; refusing 134; territorial fee li ngs about, 219
arguments, 222, 225nl5; reintegration science instruction, 10-11, 94- 97
stage, 223; safe space and, 211; wo1nen self-reflexivity, 165
of color as instructors, 222. See also self-satisfaction 1nodel1 132
race Sex and Identity course, 87- 89
rape, 88 sexism: anger and, 124; bibliography,
reentry students, 182, 189; bibliography, 238
246 sexual identities, interconnectedness,
relationality, 64, 66 166
relativism, idea of, 73 sexualities panel, 85-87
religious right, 80-83, 88- 90, 120 sexuality: com ing out and, 71- 72;
repressive hypothesis, 88 consciousness-raising, 121;
resistance, student: bibliography, 235; deconstruction applied, 84;
causes of, 216- 20; denial of racism denaturalizing, 83; fear of female, 31;
and colonialism, 209; discomfort gender and power, 30; initiation, 30;
with transformed classroo111, 99; medicalization of, 67; production of
graduate students and race issues, knowledge, 87; as social construct,
212; hostility, 118; math anxiety, 87- 88; teaching as activis1n , 10; use of
104-5; as the norm, 217; overcoming, panels, 12
189-90; power ruptures, 51- 53; sexual violence, 120
progressive student engagement, 222; "sexy legs" contest, 172-73, 174
race issues, 14-15, 212; as refusal to silence: as choice, 55-5611 l; culture of,
give up privilege, 219; reversal of 206; student expectations, 49; women
reality, 218-19; strategies to of color, 213-14, 240
challenge, 221-23; three fears, silencing, 213-14; bibliography, 234,
219-20; to authority, 24-25; to 235, 236
caring, 46; to intersectional analysis, small groups: for analyzing concepts,
220; to oppositional information, 88; assessed, 134; consciousness-
19lnl0; white middle-class women, raising, 117-34; in distance learning
220 (televised), 180; exercise on
resistance to authority, in Virginia earthquakes, 104-5; historical insight,
Woolf, 33, 38 133; 111ixed gender, 137nll; mixed
respect, defined, 141 race, 126- 27, 128; as pedagogical
response st yles, 146 technique, 11; personal change, 134;
reverse discrimination, 219 racial difference, 126-28, 135112; racial
reverse racism/sexis1n, 219 in1balance, 126-27; structured
rights: accepted views (male), 148n3; 1neeting times, 136n7; u n learning
language, 144; versus relational stereotypes about fe1ninis111 132
1

responsibilities, 140 Social Change course, 89-91

268 INDEX

social/community action, 94; Three Guineas (Woolf), 34, 124, 132

community-based service learning, To the Lighthouse (Woolf), 31-32
221; concerns about, 42; distance transsexuals, 58, 67
learning, 188-89; domestic violence troubles talk, 143, 147
issue, 154, 155-56; fostering praxis,
106-9; goals of women's studies, 62; understanding, defined, 141
individual activism, 107, 108; John universal moral stance, in cross-cultural
Dewey on, 3; links to classroom, 5-6; studies, 73
in literature, 3; modeling value universities, nature of, 41, 236
statements, 55; projects summarized, University of Montreal shootings, 24,
12-13; protest as teaching technique, 2506
171-75 unlearning racism workshop, 119, 123,
Social Study of Geology course, 109 126, 135nl, 136n6
social theory defined, l9ln6
special treatment technique, 61 "victimized woman" stance, 217, 218
statistic courses, 89 video women's studies courses, 177-78
stereotypes: Asian-American women, violence against women, 124
202; identity categories, 86-87; lesbian voice: authorial, 36; bibliography, 237; of
panels, 161 caring versus fairness, 141-43, 145,
student participation, bibliography, 251 147; coming to, 215; conceptions of
student-teacher dichotomy, 41, 54; 1norality, 138; in consciousness-
caring relationships, 46-47, 53; raising discussions, 11; different, 138,
teacher-students and student-teachers, 141, 143-45, 148nl; in feminist
108-9 pedagogy, 4; informing teaching, 14;
student-teacher interaction, issues sum1narized, 15; moral voices,
bibliography, 251-54 144-45, 147; as problematic, 215;
student-to-teacher transition, 43-53 student, defined, 210
study questions, 187
subjectivity, teacher, 35 Waves, The {Woolf), 29-31, 33-34
syllabus: analyses of sexuality, 92n5; Western interpretations, 209
changes to, 51-52; as political white Americans: framing, 205;
document, 152; vaguely structured, reactions to new awareness, 223
97-99 white guilt, 126, 137nl5
white identity, 64
teachers, impact of transformative white privilege: alienation from
knowledge on, 109 discussion, 14; central categories, 61;
teaching methods: advantages, 66; classroom dynamics, 202-3; denial
female versus male, 34; theories and protection, 218; discomfort over,
bibliography, 249; tried-and-true 126; guilt and helplessness, 126,
versus innovative, 17. See also 137nl5; homogeneity, assumption of,
feminist pedagogy; pedagogy; 214; loss of, and discrimination
individual courses and topics compared, 224n9; normative status,
team teaching, 9, 59; curriculum reform, 217; student resistance, 218
110; equality between instructors, white professors, role of, 63
69-70; in gender studies, 72-73; white solipsism, 212
implications, 72-73; personal Women in Contemporary American
experience, 70-71; rationales, 65; Society course, 179
science, 94-95; (un)connected women of color: bibliography, 248;
knowledge, 99-101 classroom dynamics, 213;
term paper(s), 82; distance learning, consciousness-raising, 122; courses,
19lnl l; project reports, 156 196; "epistemic violence," 216;
Theories of Feminism course, 171-75 feminism for, 203; feminist pedagogy
INDEX 269

strategies, 60-61; homosexuality, 160, 107; lesbian panels in, 159;

202; as instructors, 222; intersectional "1nainstrean1ing 1 " 60; male
analyses, 195; issues sum1narized, 14; instructors absent, 9; practices
lesbians, 160; as majority in class, 198; reinforcing domination, 63; resistance
silencing, 213-14; in s1nall groups, to men's experiences, 61, 63, 74n2;
126-27, 128; w01nen's studies, 206 science education, 110; social action
Women of Color and the American in, 171; socia l relations of learning,
Experience course, 196; challenges, 62; studies of teaching, 2; teach ing
201- 6; description, 198-201; about different voices, 145, 146- 47; on
summarized, 14 television, 179-81; w01nen of color,
wo1nen's morality, 138 199, 206
wo1nen's studies: approaches, 4, 195; Woolf, Virginia : gender and authority, 8,
awareness of sexism, 173; critique by 27- 29; gender differences, 28-29;
science educators, 10- 11; curriculum gendered narrative, 29- 31; on 1nale
reform, 59; distance learning, 13, professors, 28; male student view of,
176-81, 189, 190n3; diversity focus, 28, 38; understandi ng people's
60; emotional stress in classrooms, backgrounds, 124. See also individual
123-24, 174, 221-22; e111powerment works
versus oppression, 74n2; fe1nale working class: lesbians and, 160;
teachers, 65; gendered makeup women, bibliography on, 246
criticized, 63-65; in general
education, 60, 118, 159, 181, 189; Youth for Christ organization, 82
globalization, 60, 64; interdisciplinary Yucca Mountain Nuclear Repository,
nature, 234; interrelated knowledge, 103
 DATE DUE

F'RINlEO IN U.S.A

11~11111 m111111111
30777642R00157
Made in the USA
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Feminist pedagogy is defined as a set of episten1ological assumptions, teaching strat-
egies, approaches to content, classroom practices, and teacher-student relationships
grounded in feminist theory. This collection of essays traces the evolution of fen1inist
pedagogy over the past twenty years, exploring both its theoretical and its practical
dimensions.

"A comprehensive account of feminist pedagogical theory and practice over the past
two decades. Teachers of all stripes will find rich ideas to bring to their classrooms:·
- Mary Kay Tetreault, coauthor of The Feminist Classroom and Privilege and Diversity
in the Academy

"This retrospective pron1ises to engage readers at different levels of familiarity with

feminist pedagogy, offering a substantial contribution to the field and revealing the
relations and connections to be made within interdisciplinary studies:'
-Margaret Macintyre Latta, University of Nebraska- Lincoln

"Of considerable value to all who, regardless of academic discipline, seek to improve
their teaching:'-Brenda Daly, past editor, NWSA Journal

"A valuable fra1nework for examining and reflecting on principles and practices of
feminist teaching . . . an excellent resource for teaching fenunist pedagogy at both
undergraduate and graduate levels."-Jill Bystydzienski, Ohio State University

"These essays constitute the best possible introduction to the broad field of feminist
pedagogy. Ranging from theoretical explorations, to practical classroon1 applications,
to challenges offered by diversities of race, ethnicity and sexuality, they offer a com-
prehensive exploration of the feminist classroom today."-Frances A. Maher, coauthor
of The Feminist Classroom and Privilege and Diversity in the Academy

Robbin D. Crabtree is dean of the College of Arts and Sciences and professor of
co1nmunication at Fairfield University. David Alan Sapp is an associate professor of
English and coordinator of the professional writing progran1 at Fairfield University.
Adela C. Licona is an assistant professor in the Department of English at the Univer-
sity of Arizona.

A National Womens Studies Association Journal READER

ISBN 13: 978-0-8018-9276-9

ISBN 10: 0 -8018-9276-7

Cover desigw RORERT SCH RBUR 9 780801 892769