DENISE RIDLEY-Am I That Name PDF

"1\ltrl That Name?
"
FEMINISM AND THE CATEGORY OF
£WOM1!N'INHISTORY
DeltiseRiley
JJ Am I That Name?"
Feminism and the Category of JJWomen"

1n Historv
"
Denise Riley
University of Minnesota
Minneapolis
Copyright © 1988 by Denise. Riley
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be

reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted,
in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the
prior written permission of the publisher.
Third printing, 1995
Published by the University of Minnesota Press

111 Third Avenue South, Suite 290
Minneapolis, MN 55401-2520
Printed in Hong Kong
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Riley, Denise (E. M. Denisel
'Am I that name?: feminism and the category of "women" in history
Denise Riley.
p. cm.
Rihliogrilrhy: r.
Includes index. ~
ISBN 0--8166-1730-9 ISBr:i'0--8"166-173i':7(pbk.)
1. Women-History. ~.,.f'eminism-History. l",T.itle.
HQl154.R55 1988· 88-21640
30S.4'2'09-.:1c19 CIP
The University of Minnesota

13 an equal-opportunity .
educator and employer.
Contents
Acknowledgements vi
1 Does a Sex Have a History? 1
2 Progresses of the Soul 18
3 The SOciai',. 'Women', and Sociological Feminism 44
4 The Womanly Vote 67
5 Bodies, Identities, Feminisms 96
Notes and References 115
Selective Bibliography 124

Acknowledgemen ts
In Britain, feminist study has had a lean time of it; so I was more
than lucky to arrive at that rare institution, the Pembroke Center
for Teaching and Research on Women: at Brnwn llniversity As a
r0~tdoctor3.! rc~c::r:~ £c!!o\\· thi:r~ ir. 1984- .), I ":'uulJ ~ttl.t.l u11 ihio
essay; and since then it has been transatlantically encouraged by
Christ in a Crosby and Elizabeth Weed. Thanks to a research assis-
tantship in 1986-7 at the Institute for Advanced Study at Prince-
ton, I could set down the reflections which the Pembroke Center
had allowed me to begin.
Stephen Heath has been good enough to read closely through
everything, and make useful observations. I'm grateful to him and
to Colin MacCabe for their editorial backing. Especial thanks to
Sarah Johns, who prepared the manuscript beautifully, and with
unfailing good humour.
Nigel Wheale, whose ear doesn't fail him, offered me the quota-
tion from athello - Desdemona's question, 'Am I that name?',
which is my title.
A first version of Chapter 1 appeared as an article in New
Formations, number 1, Spring 1987: members of its editorial board,
among them Homi Bhabha, Joan Copjec, and Cora Kaplan, were
very helpful.
My greatest impersonal debt is to those upheavals of the
women's liberation movement in Britain which evolved into the
awkward, tenacious socialist feminism, feminist socialism, which
has engaged, absorbed, and vexed us so much.
My overriding personal debt is to Joan Scott. I have had the
extraordinary good fortune of working with her both at Brown
University and at the Institute for Advanced Study at Princeton. It
is impossible to make clear how much I owe to her intellectual
generosity, her unwavering support, her criticism and her com-
panionship. This essay is therefore for her, with my thanks.
DENISE RILEY
vi
1
Does a Sex Have a History"?
Desdemona: Am I that name, Iago?
JllgO: What name, fair lady?
Desdemona: Such as she says my lord did say I was.
(William Shakespeare, Othtllu,
Act IV, Scene H, lbU)
The black abolitionist and freed slave, Sojourner Truth, spoke out
at the Akron convention in 1851, and named her own toughness in
a famous peroration against the notion of woman's disqualifying
frailty. She rested her case on her refrain' Ain't I a woman?' It's my
hope to persuade readers that a new Sojourner Truth might well -
except for the catastrophic loss of grace in the wording - issue
another plea: 'Ain't I a fluctuating identity?' For both a concen-
tration on and a refusal of the identity of 'women' are essential to
feminism, This its history makes plain.
The volatility of 'woman' has indeed been debated from the
perspective of psychoanalytic theory; her fictive status has been
proposed by some Lacanian work,l while it has been argued that,
on the other hand, sexual identities are ultimately firmly secured
by psychoanalysis. 2 From the side of deconstruction, Derrida
among others has advanced what he calls the 'undecidability' of
woman. J I want to sidestep these debates to move to the ground of
historical construction, including the history of feminism itself,
and suggest that not only 'woman' but also 'women' is trouble-
some - and that this extension of our suspicions is in the interest
of feminism. That we can't bracket off either Woman, whose
c~~~al letter has long alerted us to het dangers, or the more
modest lower-case 'woman', while leaving unexamined the ordi-
nary, innocent-sounding 'women'
This 'women' is not only an inert and sensible collective; the
dominion of fictions has a wider sway than that. The extent of its
reign can be partly revealed by looking at the crystallisations of
'women' as a category. To put it schematically: 'women' is histori-
cally, discur5ively constructed, and always relatively to other
1
2 'Am I That Name?'
categories which themselves change; 'women' is a volatile collec-
tivity in which female persons can be very differently positioned,
so that the apparent continuity of the subject of 'women' isn't to be
relied on; 'women' is both synchronically and diachronically erra-
tic as a collectivity, while for the individual, 'being a woman' is
also inconstant, and can't provide an ontological foundation. Yet it
must be emphasised that these instabilities of the category are the
sine qua non of feminism, which would otherwise be lost for an
object, despoiled of a fight, and, in short, without much life.
But why should it be claimed that the constancy of 'women' can
be undermined' in the interests of feminism? If Woman is in
blatant disgrace, and woman is transparently suspicious, why lose
sleep over a straightforward descriptive noun, 'women'?
Moreover, how could feminism gain if its founding category is
also to be dragged into the shac\ows properly cast by Woman? And
while, given the untidiness of word use, there will inevitably be
some slippery margins between 'woman' and 'women', this surely
ought not to worry any level-headed speaker? If the seductive
fraud of 'woman' is exposed, and the neutral collectivity is care-
fully substituted, then the ground is prepared for political fights to
continue, armed with clarity. Not woman, but women - then we
can get on with it.
It is true that socialist feminism has always tended to claim that
women are socially produced in the sense of being 'conditioned'
and that femininity is an effect. But 'conditioning' has its limits as
an explanation,. a~d the 'society' which enacts this process is a
treacherously vague entity. Some variants of American and Euro-
pean cultural and radical feminism do retain a faith in the integrity
of 'women' as a category. Some proffer versions of a female nature
or independent system of values, which, ironically, a rather older
ft!11l1Ill::'1II hds dlways suugln LU ~il!vJ·(U Ulte,: wili~ "'ioUlY i.uiun::.
flourish in the shade cast by these powerful contemporary natural-
isms about 'women'. Could it be argued that the only way of
avoiding theose constant historical loops which depart or return
from the conviction of women's natural dispositions, to pacifism
for example, would be to make a grander gesture - to stand back
and announce that there aren't any 'women'? And then, hard on
that defiant and initially absurd-sounding assertion, to be
:;::'...;.F;';'!c;,;,~!)- .:;;.;dul tu elaborate it - to plead that it means that all
definitions of gender must be looked at with an eagle eye, where-
ver they emanate from and whuever pronounces them. and thdt
Does a Sex Have a History? 3
such a scrutiny is a thoroughly feminist undertaking. The will to
support this is not blandly social-democratic, for in no way does it
aim to vault over the stubborn harshness of lived gender while it
queries sexual categorisation. Nor does it aim at a glorious indif-
ference to politics by placing itself under the banner of some
renewed claim to androgyny, or to a more modem aspiration to a
'post-gendered subjectivity'. But, while it refuses to break with
feminism by naming itself as a neutral deconstruction, at the same
time it refuses to identify feminism with the camp of the lovers of
'real women'.
Here someone might retort that there are real, concrete women.
That what Foucault did for the concept of 'the homosexual' as an
invented classification just cannot be done for women, who
indubitably existed long before the nineteenth century unfolded
its tedious mania for fre~h categorisations. That historical con-
structionism has run mad if it can believe otherwise. How can it
be overlooked that women are a natural as well as a characterised
category, and that their distinctive needs and sufferings are all too
real? And how could a politics of women, feminism, exist in the
company of such an apparent theoreticist disdain for reality,
which it has mistakenly conflated with ideology as if the two were
one?
A brief response would be that unmet needs and sufferings do
not spring from a social reality of oppression, which has to be
posed against what is said and written about women - but that
they spring from the ways in which women are positioned, often
harshly or stupidly, as 'women'. This positioning occurs both in
language, forms of description, and what gets carried out, so that
it is misleading to set up a combat for superiority between the
two. Nor, on thE' other hand, is any complete identification be--
lWt::t::ll tllt!CIl d~:;UUlt!U.
It is true that appeals to 'women's' needs or capacities do not, on

their own, guarantee their ultimately conservative effects any
more than their progressivism; a social policy with innovative
implications may be couched in a deeply familial language, as
with state welfare provision at some periods. In general, which
female persons under what circumstances will be heralded as
'women' often needs some effort of translation to follow: becom-
'rlb ~: :A:,~ci=~:-"'b :-':~:-~b :-_::"_:-"-:-~ ............ C"~'Vn..-f ""Y"~':IItll"D ;1;' :..l T.:a~tll3~C
husiness.
Feminism has in\ennittentll been as vexed with the ulgency of
4 'Am I That N(]me?'
disengaging from the category 'women as it has wIth laying claim
tionally tom between fighting against over-feminisation and

against under-feminisation, especially where social policies have
been at stake. Certainly the actions and the wants of women often
need to be fished out of obscurity, rescued from the blanket
dominance of 'man', or 'to be made visible'. But that is not all.
There are always too many invocations of 'women', too much
visibility, too many appeHations which were better dissolved
::Igain - nr arf' in npp'; nf somp ;:.rrllT::Itp '1"0 ripJimitine h""'rl1inL:
So the precise specifying of 'women' for feminism might well
mean occasionally forgetting them - or remembering them more
accurately by refusing to enter into the terms of some public
invocation. At times feminism might have nothing to say on the
subject of 'women' - when their excessive identification would
swallow any opposition, engulfing it hopelessly.
This isn't to imply that every address to 'women' is bad, or that
feminism has some speCial access to a correct and tolerable level of
feminisation. Both these points could generate much debate.
What's suggested here is that the volatility of 'women' is so
marked that it makes feminist alliances with other tendencies as
difficult as they are inescapable. A political interest may descend
to illuminate 'women' from almost anywhere in the rhetorical
firmament, like lightning. This may happen against an older,
slower backdrop of altering understandings as to what sexual
characterisations are, and a politician's fitful concentration on
'women' may be merely superimposed on more massive altera-
tions of thought. To understand all the resonances of 'women',
feminist tactics would need to possess not only a great elastiCity
for dealing with its contemporary deployments, but an awareness
of the long shapings of sexed classifications in their post-1790s
upheavals.
This means that we needn't be tormented by a choice between a
political realism which will brook no nonsense about the uncer-
tainties of 'women', or deconstructionist moves which have no
political allegiances. No one needs to believe in the solidity of
'women'; doubts on that score do not have to be confined to the
giddy detachment of the academy, to the semiotics seminar rooms
where politics do not tread. There are alternatives to those schools
of thought which in saying that 'woman' is fictional are silent
about 'women', and those which, from an opposite perspective,
proclaim that the reality of women is yet to come, but that this
time, it's we, women, who will define her lnstt:'ad of veerjn,.;
between de construction and transcendence, we could try anothe~
wain of speculations: that 'women' is indeed an unstable category,
that this instability has a historical foundation, and that feminism
is the site of the systematic fighting-out of that instability - which
need not worry us.
It might be feared that to acknowledge any semantic shakiness
inherent in 'women' would plunge one into a vague whirlpool of
'postgendered' being, abandoning the cutting edges of feminism
for an ostensibly new but actually well worked indifference to the
real mastenes ot gender, ana that me known oonun :I1H~ wuujJ.
only be strengthened in the process. This could follow, but need
:not. The move from questioning the presumed ahistoricity of
sexed identities does not have to result in celebrating the carnival
of diffuse and contingent sexualities. Yet this question isn't being
proposed as if, on the other hand, it had the power to melt away
sexual antagonism by bestowing a history upon it.
What then is the point of querying the constancy of 'men' or
'women'? Foucault has written, 'The purpose of history, gUIded by
genealogy, is not to discover the roots of our identity but to
commit itself to its dissipation.'s This is terrific - but, someone
continues to ask, whatever does feminism want with dissipated
identities? Isn't it trying to consolidate a progressive new identity
of women who are constantly m is-defined, half-visible in their
real differences? Yet the history of feminism has also been a
struggle against over-zealous identifications; and feminism must
negonate the quicksands of 'women' which will not allow it to
settle on either identities or counter-identities, but which con-
demn it to an incessant striving for a brief foothold. The useful-
ness of Foucault's remark here is, I think, that it acts as a pointer to
hisi-o,y. It's not that our identity is to be dissipated into airY
indeterminacy, extinction; instead it is to be referred to the more
substantial realms of discursive historical formation. Certainly the
indeterminacy of sexual positionings can be demonstrated in
other ways, most obviously perhaps by comparative anthropology
with its berdache, androgynous and unsettling shamanistic
figures. But such work is often relegated to exoticism, while
psychoanalytic investigations reside in the confined heats of clini-
cal studies. It is the misleading familarity of 'history' which can
break open the daily naturalism of what surrounds us.
6 'Am 1 That Name?'
There are differing temporalities of 'women', and these substitute
the possibility of being 'at times a woman' for eternal difference
on the one hand, or undifferentiation on the other. This escapes
that unappetising choice between 'real women' who are always
solidly in the designation, regardless, or post-women, no-
longer-women, who have seen it all, are tired of it, and prefer
evanescence. These altering periodicities are not only played out
moment by moment for the" individual person, but they are also
historical, for the characterisations of 'women' are established in a
myriad mobile formations.
Feminism has t:ecognised this temporality in its preoccupation
with the odd phenomenology of possessing a sex, with finding
some unabashed way of recognising aloud that which is privately
obvious - that any attention to the life of a woman, if traced out
carefully, must admit the degree to which the .effects of lived
gender are at least sometimes unpredictable, and fleeting. The
question of how far anyone can take on the identity of being a
woman in a thoroughgoing manner recalls the fictive status
accorded to sexual identities by some psychoanalytic thought. Can
anyone fully inhabit a gender without a degree of horror? How
could someone 'be a woman' through and through, make a final
home in that classification without suffering claustrophobia? To
lead a life soaked in the passionate consciousness of one's gender
at every single moment.' to will be be a sex with a vengeance -
these are impossibilities, and far from the aims of feminism.
But if being a woman is more accurately conceived as a state
which fluctuates for the individual, depending on what she and/or
others consider to characterise it, then there are always different
densities of sexed being in operation, and the historical aspects
are in play here. So a full answer to the question, 'At this instant,
~Jl& ! .. ~~ v=~~.;,~~ ~:; ..:!!:~!~~.:~ f:~r:-~ .: !-.:.:.~..J.r:. ~C:~b?" :c:.:L:! ~:-:~b !~!~
play three mterrelated reflections. First, the female speaker·s rejec-
tions of, adoptions of, or hesitations as to the rightness of the self
description .at that moment; second, the state of current under-
standings of 'women', embedded in a vast web of description
covering public policies, rhetorics, feminisms, fonns of sexualisa-
tion or contempt; third, behind these, larger and slower subs id-
ings of gendered categories. which in part will include the
"'03rl ;Tnpn ~Prl f0rrT1" of rrf'violls .hara("terisations" whirh oncp.
would have under~one their own rapid fluctuations.
Why 1') lhi::; suggestion >lbout the consolidations of a
classification any different from a history of ideas about women?
Only because in it nothing is assumed about an underlying
continuity of real women, above whose constant bodies changing
aerial descriptions dance. If it's taken for granted that the category
of women simply refers, over time, to a rather different content, a
sort of Women Through the Ages approach, then the full histor-
icity of what is at stake becomes lost. We would miss seeing the
alterations in what 'women' are posed against, as weD as estab-
lished. by - Nature, Class, Reason, Humanity and other concepts -
which by no means form a passive backdrop to changing concep-
tions of gender. That air of a wearingly continuous opposition of
'men' and 'women', each always identically understood. is in part
an effect of other petrifications.
To speculate about the history of sexual consolidations does not
spring from a longing for a lost innocence, as if 'once', as John
Donne wrote, 6
Difference of sex no more wee knew
Than our Guardian Angells doe
Nor is it a claim made in the hope of an Edenic future; to suggest
that the polarity of the engaged and struggling couple. men and
women, isn't timeless, is not a gesture towards reconciliation, as if
once the two were less mercilessly distinguished, and may be so
again if we could stop insisting on divisive difference. and only
love each other calmly enough. My supposition here - and
despite my disclaimer, it may be fired by a conciliatory impulse-
is rather that the arrangement of people under the banners of
'men' or 'women' are enmeshed with the histories of other con-
cepts too, including those of 'the social' and 'the body_ And that
this has profound repercussions for feminism.
It follow", that hoth theories about the timelessness of the binary
opposition of sexual antagonism and about the history of ideas of
women could be modified by looking instead at the course of
alignments into gendered categories. Some might object that the
way to deal with the monotonous male/female opposition would
be to substitute democratic differences for the one difference, and
to let that be an end to it. But this route, while certainly economi-
cal, would also obliterate the feverish powers exercised by the air
of eternal polarity, and their overwhelming effects. Nor does that
pluralising move into 'differences' say anything about their
origins and prl"cipitatlOns.
8 'Am 1 That Name?'
J've written about the chances for a history of alterations in the
colIectivity of 'women'. Why not 'men' too? It's true that the
completion of the project outlined here would demand that, and
would not be satisfied by studies of the emergence of patriarchs,
eunuchs, or the cult of machismo, for example; more radical work
could be done on the whole category of 'men' and its relations
with Humanity. But nothing will be ventured here, because the
genesis of these speculations is a concern with 'women'as a
condition of and atrial to feminist history and politics. Nor will
the term 'sexual difference' appear as an analytic instrument, since
my POlOt IS neuher to vahdate It nor to completelY retuse It, but tD
look instead at how changing massifications of 'men' and 'women'
have thrown up such terms within the armoury of contemporary
feminist thought.
How might this be done? How could the peculiar temporality of
'women' be demonstrated? Most obviously, perhaps, by the
changing relations of 'woman' and her variants to the concept of a
general humanity. The emergence of new entities after the Enligh-
tenment and their implicatedness with the colIectivity of women -
like the idea of 'the social'. The history of an increasing sexualisa-
tion, in which female persons become held to be virtually satu-
rated with their sex which then invades their rational and spiritual
faculties; this reached a pitch in eighteenth-century Europe.
Behind this, the whole history of the idea of the person and the
individual, including the extents to which the soul, the mind, and
the body have been distingUished and rethought, and how the
changing forms of their sexualisation have operated. For the
nineteenth century, arguments as to how the concept of class was
developed in a profoundly gendered manner, and how it in turn
shaped modem notions of 'women'. 7 These suggestions could
proliferate endlessly; in these pages I have only offered sketches of
a couple of them.
What does it mean to say that the modem collectivity of women
was established in the midst of other formations? Feminism's
impulse is often, not surprisingly, to make a celebratory
identification with a rush of Women onto the historical stage. But
such 'emergences' have particular passages into life; they are the
tips of an iceberg. The more engaging questions for feminism is
then what-lies beneath. To decipher any collision which tosses up
some novelty, you must know the nature of the various pasts that
have led up to it, and allow to these their full density of othemess.
Does a Sex Have Q Historv? 9
Indeed there are no moments at which gender is utterly unvoiceu.

But the ways in which 'women' will hav£, been artiC'lIlr1tprl in
advance of some prominent 'emergence' of the colJectivity will
differ, so what needs to be sensed is upon what previous layers
the newer and more fonnalised outcropping has grown.
The grouping of 'women' as newly conceived political subjects
is marked in the long suffrage debates and cam P4ligns , which
illustrate their volatile alignments of sexed meaning: Demands for
the franchise often fluctuated between engagement with and dis-
engagement from the broad category oi Humanity - iust as an
abstraction to be exposed in its masculine bias and permeated
and then to be denounced for its continual and resolute adherence,
after women had been enfranchised, to the same bias. An ostens-
ibly unsexed Humanity, broken through political pressures of
suffragist and antisufiragist forces into blocs of humans and
women, men and women, closed and resealed at different points
in different nations. In the history of European socialism, 'men'
have often argued their way to universal manhood suffrage
through a discourse of universal rights. But for women to ascend
to being numbered among Humanity, a severe philosophical
struggle to penetrate this category has not eliminated the tactical
need to periodically break again into a separately gendered desig-
nation. The changing fate of the ideal of a non-sexed Humanity
bears witness to its ambiguity .
.. .. ..
Yet surely - it could bl! argued - some definitive upsurge of
combative will among women must occur for the suffrage to be
demanded in the first place? Must there not, then, be some
unambiguously progressive identity of 'wS:'lImm~ which the earliest
pursuers of political rights had at their disposal? For, in order to
contemplate joining yourself to unenfranchised men in their pas-
sion for emancipation, you would first have to take on that
iIHnUty of being a woman among others ,lnd of being, as such, a
suitable candidate too. But there is a difficulty; a dozen
qualifications hedge around that simple 'woman', as to whether
she is married or not, a property-owner or not, and so forth.
'Women' en masse rarely present themselves, unqualified, before
the thrones of power; their estates divide them as inequalities
within their supposed unity.
Nevertheless, to point to SQciologic<,1 faults in the smoothness of
10 'Am I That Name?'
'women' does not answer the argument that there must be a
progreSSive identity of women. How is it that they ever come to
rank themselves together? What are the conditions for any joint
consciousness of women, which is more than the mutual amity or
commiseration of friends or relations? Perhaps it could be argued
that in order for 'women' to speak as such, some formal consolida-
tion of 'men against women' is the gloomy prerequisite. That it is
sexual antagonIsm which shapes sexual solidarity; and that
assaults and counter-assaults, with all their irritations, are what
make for a rough kind of feminism .
. ..
Here there is plenty (If grollnri Wp ('nuld think nf those
fourteenth- and fifteenth-century treatises which began to work
out a formal alignment of sex against sex. These included a genre
of women's defences against their vilification So Christine de
Pisan wrote 'for women' in the querelle des femmes. The stage was
set between a sexual cynicism which took marriage to be an
outdated institution - Jean de Meung's stance in his popular
Roman de la Rose - and a contrasted idealism which demanded that
men profess loyalty to women, and adhere to marriage as a mark of
respect for the female sex - Christine de Pisan's position in the
Oebat sur le Roman de la Rose, of about 1400 to 1402. This contest
was waged again in her Livre de la Cite des Dames in 1405. As the
narrator, she is visited by an allegorical triad; Reason, Rectitude
and Justice. It is Reason who announces to her that her love of
study has made her a fit choice of champion for her sex, as well as
an apt architect to design an ideal city to be a sanctum for women
of good repute, This city needs to bE' built, because men wiU vilify
women. Their repeated slanders stem not only trom their con-
tempt for Eve, and her cuntribution to the FaU, but also from their
secret convictions as to the superior capacities of all women.
Christine d!! Pisan's earlier £pistre au Dieu d' Amours is also
couched in this protective vein.
To suffer slights ,in patience is the strategy recommended hy this
literature, which itself conspicuously does the opposite. Here
5ubmission Cdn be a weapon, d brandished virtue 5ecureJ against
ISlt::d[ u~ci~. Tile mure rig()[(ju~ the trial, lhe higher the merits of
·"c tcnaclOu:;Jy submissive woman Hpl· Epi,'t~c de la pr i5L'1l de vie
h!1IWi!lc, composed belween 141": and1418, dedicated to Marie de
Beny, was designed as a fonnal comfort to women for the deaths
at Agincourt of their brothers, fathers, and husbands; now these
were liberated from life's long pains. But this resignation in the
face of death did not eclipse sexual triumph. Christine de Pisan's
last surviving work, the Ditie de Jehann d' Arc, was published in
1429, but written before Joan's execution; this was a song to
celebrate her life as 'an honour for the female sex'.
Both the querelles and these other writings defend 'women' as
unjustly slandered, champion heroines, and marry defiance with
the advocacy of resignation, with the faith that earthly sufferings,
if patiently endured, might be put to good account in the here-
after. Do these ingredients make a fifteenth-century feminism thE'
start of a long chain ending in the demand for emancipation?
Certainly there are some constant features of this literature which
are echoed through the seventeenth-century writings. It argues in
the name of 'women', and in that it is unlike the earlier compli-
cated typologies of the '5exes of the works of the women mystics.
The fourteenth- and fifteenth-century polemic proposes that noble
women should withdraw to a place apart, a tower, a city, there to
pursue their devotions untroubled by the scorn of men in the
order of the world. In this, it is not far from some seventeenth-
century suggestions, like those made by Mary Astell, that 'women'
have no choice but to form an order apart if they want to win
spiritual clarity.
Between the fifteenth- and the seventeenth-century composi-
tions, what remains constant is the formal defences of the sex, the
many reiterations of 'Women are not, as you men so ignorantly
and harshly claim, like that - but as we tell you now, we are really
like this, and better than you.' This highly stylised counter-
antagonism draws in 'all women' under its banner against 'all
men. hven though its reterences are to women ot a high su\.:ii:li
standing and grace, nevertheless it is the collectivity which is
being claimed and redeemed by debate. At times this literature
abandons its claims to stoicism, fights clear of its surface resigna-
tion, and launches into unbridled counter-aggression. Thus 'Jane
Anger', who in 1589 published a broadside, Tane Anger her Protec-
tion for Women, to defend them against the Scandalous Reports of a
late Surfeiting Lo,,·e . ... The writer, whether truly female or agent
against th", ilttilckin.g (,rh,,,t <;1>" tht> mediileviI.1 def.·nr:-r-'c; wound to

the high~st pit("f-J'
Their slanderous tongues are so short, and a1l the time wherein
thev have lavi~hed out thE'ir wnrrl~ fTE'f:'ly ha~ heen c;o long that
they know we cannot catch hold of them to pull them out. And
they think we will not write to reprove their lying lips, which
conceits have already made them cocks. 8
The retort to the surfeited lover's charges is to invert them, to mass

all women against all men:
We are the griei of man, m that we take all the gnef from man:
we languish when they laugh, we sit sighing when they sit
singing, and sit sobbing when they lie slugging and sleeping.
Mulier est hominis confusio because her kind heart cannot so
sharply reprove their frantic fits as these mad frenzies deserve. 9
It is a litany of pure sexual outrage:
If our frowns be so terrible and our anger so deadly, men are too
foolish in offering occasions of hatred, which shunned, a terr~
ible death is prevented. There is a continual deadly hatred
between the wild boar and tame hounds. 1 would there were the
like between women and men, unless they amend their man-
ners, for so strength should predominate, where now flattery
and dissimulation have the upper hand. The lion rages when he
is hungry, but man rails when he is glutted. The tiger is robbed
of her young ones when she is ranging abroad, but men rob
women of their honour un deservedly under their noses. The
viper storms when his tail is trodden on, and may we not fret
when all our body is a footstool to their vile lust?IO
This furious lyricism is a late and high pitch of the long litera-
ture which heralded 'women' en bloc to redeem their reputations.
Is this in any sense a precondition of feminism; a pre-feminism
which is established, indeed raging, in Europe for centuries
before the Enlightenment? Certainly seventeenth-century women
writers were acutely conscious of the need to establish their claims
to enter full humanity, and to do so by demonstrating their
intellectual capacities. If women's right to any earthly democracy
had to be earned, then their virtues did indeed have to be
enunciated and defended; while traces of seemingly sex-specific
vices were to be explained as effects of a thoughtless conditioning,
Does a Sex Haul! 11 History? 1~
~ impoverished education - the path chosen by Poulain de la

Barre in his De l' Egalite des Deux Sexes of 1673. When Mary
W.ollstonecraft argued that 'the sexual should not destroy the
human character'll in her A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, this
.etlcapsulated the seventeenth-century feminist analysis that
women must somehow disengage from their growing endemic
sexualisation.
It is this which makes it difficult to interpret the defences and
proclamations of 'women' against 'men' as pre-feminism. To read
llie work of 'Jane AngeI:' and others iJS preconditions for
eighteenth-century femInlSm ellC1es toO mucn, 101' It t>ug~e~l~ lIIdC
~ere is some clear continuity between defensive celebrations ot
.!women' and the beginning of the 1790s claims to rights for
women, and their advancement as potential political subjects. But
the more that the category of woman is asserted, whether as
~ingly moral and unjustly accused, or as a sexual species fully
wart, the more its apparent remoteness from 'humanity' is
\mderwritten. It is a cruel irony, which returns at several water-
~eds in the history of feminism, that the need to insist on the
fuoral rehabilitation of 'women' should have the effect of
emphasising their distinctiveness, despite the fact that it may
Mm at preparing the way into the category of humanity. Th·e
transition, if indeed there is one, from passing consolidations
f)i 'women' as candidates for virtue, to 'women' as candidates for
tne vote, is intricate and obscure.
•
When the name of feminism is plunged into disgrace - for exam-
pIe,.in Britain immediately after the end of the First World War -
then the mantle of a progressive democracy falls upon Humanity;
~gh the resurgences of feminism in the 1920s tore this apart.
Out before even a limited suffrage is granted, it may have to be
'SOught for a sex in the name of a sex-blind humanism, as an
~l demand. This may work for men, but not for women. Most
Urteresting here are the intricate debates in Britain between social-
ist and feminist proponents of a universal adult suffrage, and
feminists who supported a limited female suffrage instead as the
best route to eventual democracy; these are discussed in detail
below, But what has Humanity been conjugated against? Must it
be endlessly undemocratic because 'gender-blind' - or 'race-
blind'? Its democratic possibilibes would depend on, for example,
how thoroughly, at the time of anyone articulation of the idea, the
sex of the person was held to infuse and characterise her whole
being, how much she was gender embodied. The question of race
would demand analogous moves to establish the extent of the
empire of racially suffused being over the general existence of the
person. A history of several categories, then, would be demanded
in order to glimpse the history of one .
. . ..
If it is fair to speculate that 'women' as a category does undergo a
broadly increasing degree of sexualisation between the late seven-
teenth and the nineteenth centuries, what would constitute the
evidence? To put clear dates to the long march of the empires of
gender over the entirety of the person would be difficult indeed.
My suggestion isn't so much that after the seventeenth century a
change in ideas about women and their nature develops; rather
that 'women' itself comes to carry an altered weight, and that a
re-ordered idea of Nature has a different intimacy of association
with 'woman' who is accordingly refashioned. It is not only that
concepts are forced into new proximities with one another - but
they are so differently shot through with altering positions of
gender that what has occurred is something more fundamental
than a merely sequential innovation - that is, a reconceptualisation
along sexed lines, in which the understandings of gender both
re-order and are themselves re-ordered.
The nineteenth-century collective 'women' is evidently voiced
in new ways by the developing human sciences of sociology,
demography, economics, neurology, psychiatry, psychology, at the
same time as a newly established realm of the social becomes both
the exercismg ground and the spasmodic vexation for feminism.
the resultin~ mOd4a.Tll 'wnmpn' jc ::Ir~,,:>hly thp rpc"I" "f I" ... ~
;:-!'acesses of ::losurc which have bCHI hammered uul, by infinite
mutual references, from all sides of these classifying studies;
closures which were then both underwritten and cross-examined
by nineteenth. and twentieth-century feminisms, as they took up,
or respecified, or dismissed these productions of 'women'.
'Wumen' became a modem social category when their place as
newly re-mapped entities was distributed among the other collec-
tivj~ip.s established by these nineteenth-century sciences. 'Men'
dId not undergo any parallel rc-alignme:1ts. But 'society' relied on
(\,01.1'. [00. hilI PIIW as the OpposIte whICh secured its own balance.
The couplet of man and society, and the ensuing riddle of their
relationship, became the life-blood of anthropology, sociology,
social psychology - the endless problem of how the individual
stood vis-a-vis the world. This was utterly different from the ways
in which the concept of the social realm both encapsulated and
illuminated 'women'. When this effectively feminised social was
then set over and against 'man', then the alignments of the sexes
in the social realm were conceptualised askew. It was not so much
that women were omitted, as that they were too thoroughly
included in an asymmetrical., manner. They were not the sub-
merged opposite of man, and as such only in need of being fished
up; they formed, rather, a kind of continuum of sociality against
which the political was set.
'Man in society' did not undergo the same kind of immersion as
did woman. He faced society, rather; a society already permeated
by the feminine. This philosophical confrontation was the puzzle
for those nineteenth-century socialist philosophies which con-
templated historic and economic man. An intractable problem for
marxist philosophy was how to engage with the question of
individualisation; how was the individual himself historically
formed? Marx tried, in 1857, to effect a new historicisation of 'man'
across differing modes of production, because he wanted to save
man as the political animal from mutation into a timeless extra-
economic figure, the Robinson Crusoe advanced by some political
economies. 12 But the stumbling-block for Marx's aim was its
assumption of some prior, already fully constituted 'man' who was
then dragged through the transformations of history; this 'man'
was already locked into his distinctiveness from the social, so he
was already a characterised and compromised creation.
As with man, so here - for once - with woman. No philosophi-
caJ anthrf\rnlne~' nf W(""'~r" ,,::on "" .....1 th"",p ""y",tpr;pc; it tri""c: tn
solve, because that which is to bt e:..plicolted, woman, stand:>
innocently in advance of the task of 'discovering her'. To histori-
cise woman across the means of production is also not enough.
Nevertheless, another reference to Marx may be pressed into the
service of sexual consolidations, and into the critique of the idea
that sexual polarities are constant - hiS comment on the concept of
Labour:
The most general abstractions arise only in the midst of the

nchf>"t pOSSible c('ncrete development, where onp thing arrE'ar~
as common to many, to all ... Labour shows strikingly how
even the most abstract categories, despite their validity - pre-
cisely because ot their abstractness - tor alJ epochs are neverthe-
less, in the specific character of this abstraction, themselves
likewise a product of historical relations, and possess their full
validity only for and within those relations. 13
•
The ideas of temporality which are suggested here need not, of
cnurse, be restricted to 'women'. The impermanence of collectiVE:
~Jt:i·,tili.:~ ir. 6t:l,e.lii i~ Ii .l-'lt:ssin~ pruuit:lu iUl ,Uly emanCIpatIng
movement which launches itself on the appeal to solidarity, to the
common cause of a new group being, or an ignored group iden-
tity. This will afflict racial, national, occupational, class, religious,
and other consolidations. While you might choose to take on
being a disabled person or a lesbian, for instance, as a political
position, you might not elect to make a politics out of other
designations. As you do not live your life fully defined as a shop
assistant, nor do you as a Greek Cypriot, ior example, and you can
always refute such identifications in the name of another descrip-
tion which, because it is more individuated, may ring more
truthfully to you. Or, most commonly, you will skate across the
several identities which will take your weight, relying on the most
useful for your purposes of the mOIT,ent; like Hanif Kureishi's
suave character in the film My Beautiful Laundrette, who says
impatiently, 'I'm a professional businessman, not a professional
Pakistani' .
The troubles of 'women', then, aren't unique. But aren't they
arguably peculiar in that 'women', half the human population, do
suffer from an extraordinary weight of characterisation? 'Mothers'
also demonstrate this acutely, and interact with 'women' in the
course of social policy invocations especially; in Britain after 1945
for instance, women were described as either over-feminised
mothers, or as under-feminised workers, but the category of the
working mother was not acknowledged .14 So the general feminine
description can be split in such ways, and its elements played off
against each other: But the overall effect is only to intensify the
excessively described and attributed being of 'women'.
Feminism of late has emphasised that indeed 'women' are far
from being racially or culturally homogeneous, and it may be
thought that this corrective provides the proper answer to the
OM'> a Set Hlwr a History? 17
hesitations I've advanced here about 'women' But thlS is net th~'
same preoccupation Indeed thf'Tf' ic; a worlrl of hf'lpfnl riifff'rpnrf'
between making claims in the name of an annoyingly gl"neralised
'women' and doing so in the name of, say, 'elderly Cantonese
women living in Soho'. Any study of sexual consolidations, of the
differing metaphorical weightings of 'women', would have to be
alerted to the refinements of age, trade, ethnicity, ,.exile, but it
would not be satisfied by them. However the specifications of
djfference are elaborated, they still come to rest on 'women', and it
·~the isolation of this last which is in question.
It's not that a new slogan for feminism is being proposed here-
of feminism without 'women'. Rather, the suggestion is that
-'women' is a simultaneous foundation of and an irritant to femin-
ism, arid that this is constitutionally so. It is true that the trade-off
for the myriad namings of 'women' by politics, sociologies,
policies and psychoJogies is that at this cost 'women' do, some-
·rimes, become a force to be reckoned with. But the caveat remains:
the risky elements to the processes of alignment in sexed ranks are
nevet far away, and the very collectivity which distinguishes you
may also be wielded, even unintentionally, against you. Not just
against you as an individual, that is, but against you as a social
being with needs and attributions. The dangerous intimacy be-
tween subjectification and subjection needs careful calibration.
There is, as we have repeatedly learned, no fluent trajectory from
feminism to a truly sexually democratic humanism; there is no
ea~y passage from 'women' to 'humanity'. The study of the histor-
ical development and precipitations of these sexed abstractions
will help to make sense of why not. That is how Desdemona's
anguished question, 'Am I that name?', may be transposed into <I
awfe hopeful light.
2
Progresses of the Soul
And as they fled they shrunk
Into 2 narrow doleful fonns
Creeping in reptile flesh upon
The bosom of the ground:
And all the vast of Nature shrunk
Before their shrunken eyes.
(William Blake, from' Africa',
The Song af Los, 1795)
The notion of what a women is, alters; so does the whole concep-
tion of what a person is, how a being is unified. A part of this
malleable ingredient of being human is the degree to which
possession of a gender is held to invade the whole person. And
here the critical gender is female; again, it is the difficulties of the
woman-to-human transition, It is 'women' who are sexualised, it
is femininity which comes to colour existence to the point of
suffusion.
But this slow transition which takes place between, roughly, the
seventeenth and late eighteenth centuries isn't narrowly linear. It
does not so much rest on a simple hardening of the opposition of
'men' to 'women'. It is implicated in changes to concepts of the
dominion of the soul over the body, and of the nature of the
reasoning faculties In the broad traditions of Christian theology,
I've" though woman's being may be dangerously closE' to the
uuJy, LdHldiilY i~ Hur restrlcteo to tne lemlOme, and the soul is
relatively unscathed by its sex. But a newer and relatively secular-
ised understanding of that person - in particular the woman, who
became an ambulant Nature - represents a differently constructed
ensemble altogether. The gradual processes of secularisation and
theological revision were accompanied by an increasing sexualisa-
tion which crowded out the autonomous soul - while at the same
time a particularly feminised conception of Nature began to
~~",,'I,:,;:-, ':!-: :!:Ji,' :.:".3~ u( tIlt,; ~cAl.hl11y JelH()(ratiL 5uul Wd5 tht:
threat to latf' ~('vpntt'f>,·,th-(entury forms of f,=mini~m in particular.
A.t the saml:' pf'rll).:1 J" the"!' rpli~""L!~ Iransf'-JrI1~atjon~. the
18
Progresses of the Soul 19
influence of Cartesian philosophy entailed a sharp conceptual
distinction between mind, soul, and body. Given that the idea of
woman, throughout as before the Renaissance, continued to
occupy a special proximity to the body and camaiity, Cartesianism
could only implicitly underwrite her greater remoteness from the
mind. 50 seventeenth-century philosophical suppositions did
nothing to impede the renewed sexualisation of the female intel-
lectual capacities - at a time when the older theological convictions
about the gender-indifference of the soul, at least, were them-
selves crumbling. Mind and soul remained distinguished, as the
soul became more confined as an entity to the contested internal
premises of a fonnal theology Yet on the other hand, religiosity -
the idea of intensive religious observances and piety, tarnished
with sentiment and excess - became more unambiguously fern in-
ised from the late seventeenth century onward. The gross effect of
these changes, taken together with others well outside of philoso-
phy or faith, was to blur together elements which had previously
been held apart into a simplified personification of woman.
In these circumstances, what is in operation is more profound
and less easily classifiable than any straightforward revision of
conceptions of woman. We could almost say that a new density or
a new re-membering of 'women' had gradually developed,
although it is true that the filiations which comprise it can be to
some extent unravelled backwards. Yet they will not necessarily
consist of strands clearly marked a5 pertaining to 'women'. The
history of sexual apartheid is frequently extremely uneven. An
apparently reiterated sexual antagonism may well not be the result
of a descending line of hostilities, but be an echo of mutations of
other ideas which are less easy to hear, because they have fallen
away from our thought.
50 tu illt;;J;t"l~ dLuul huw llll: 15~ndt!r~d !:iubj~C{ is consolidated
can draw one into vast areas of speculation, removed from the
pressing preoccupations of feminism now. There is the whole
consolidation of the human subject, and how and where the
demarcations of the feminine fall. On this dizzying scale, even the
ancient philosophy and theology known to the West would be
'ethnocentric' and restrictive fields of enquiry. But as alternatives
to paralysis in the face of the magnitude of the task, small stabs at
rp~prr~"'~~~~_~~ ~~~~~_~ ~'V~r~;~:; ~~:'~('~:: ::-::, ~~ ~::'J.:~, :Cb~:-. :--~:tb: .
•
To classical philosophy, one could put a short but complicated
ql1e .. tinn nopo; thp .. nnl have a SP'IC? OT nops SPXE'O hein~ confinp
itself to the body, and if so, is there a permanent risk that it may
seep through into the neutral soul? The Homeric psyche was a
faint and squeaking ghost, an asexual bat-like thing which sought
the shadows. The Orphic soul came of an untainted and undif-
ferentiated celestial origin. The Platonic soul, however, passed
through several scattered conceptions in its author's deliberations.
Tt was tom, and became increasingly tom. Less and less could it be
the home ot any serene rationality. Thus the soui which IS des-
cribed in The Republic, and rethought elsewhere, is variable.
unstable and full of internal conflicts, while in the Phaedrus the
desires that rock it are terrible, savage, and irregular. 1 The Platonic
body is in general, as in Pythagorean and Orphic belief, the tomb
and the prison-house of the soul, and from it creep disorders and
corruptions. Love, as Eros in the Symposium, is the child of the god
Plenty and the goddess Poverty; like his mother, he will always
suffer distress. And like a modem Lacanian, he is vexed by
longings, insatiability, and repetition. The Platonic soul is divided
between desires which cannot be reconciled; it is in the grip of
appetites and of reason, which are set at odds with one another
since appetites, which are quintessentially irrational, must be
subdued by reason, which is right. Eros, the desire for what is not
yet possessed, is poised between love and longing; the object
which Eros seeks must be good; for it to be longed-for is not
enough. Plato's tripartite soul, thus imperilled in its own recesses,
does not itself possess a gender and the formal equality of the
souls of men and women is not raised as a question. The associa-
tions of the rational elements in the soul, nevertheless, are with
metaphors of maleness while the irrational is proximate to the
intemperate pursuits ofthe flesh. l
Successive convictions of the closeness of woman to the sensual
body makes the theoretical neutrality of the soul an imperilled but
tenacious attribute in the history of Christianity. Augustine'S
sexual asceticism, indeed his horror, is celebrated enough; yet he
championed the spiritual equality of women against their
diminished rationality. The mind, according to Augustine, knows
no sex; yet the mind's intimacy with the body opens it constantly
to the risk of being stained. When the eye of the mind is distracted
from the eternal, when 'the light of its eyes is not with it', such
clouding may well be caused by earthly carnality. When the
... ,,
(
identification of the sensual with the bodies of women In particu-

lar is fully established and when the Jesil iJ·ig 6ul>j~"i. i., uuJ.CJ-
stood to be male, then the souls of women can only become vestigial
hiding-places of innocence which remain under a pennanent
threat of invasion and contamination by their flesh. The old
Pauline antithesis of soul and body, the imperative to master
IC!rtsuality for the redemption of the soul, was not gender-specific
and did not of itself bring about the equation of women's bodies
with a corrupt carnality. and women's ~ouh; with diminished
5p-:!'"!!:.!~! :=;:-.::::~!c:. e~! !! ....,y:.: ~~~!! ::-:. ~!-.: ::.::!~ ::f ~!-:.:~ .J.::oc:.J.t:~:-~:
a risk which, sensed, was vigorously contested.
For both the fullness of the souls of women and their propensity
to be driven by sexual longing are themes which persist in the
writings of women of the middle ages. The Abbess Hildegard of
Singen, who was born in 1098 and died, famous for her
prophecies, judgement, and scholarship, in 1179, wrote works of
theology, physiognomy, and medicine. These included a series of
characterologies; the sex and the temperament of a child, she held,
was the outcome of the time and the physiology of its parents'
lovemaking, which she elaborated in her Causae et Curae. Here the
four humours are described for both women and men. The melan-
cholic woman, for example:
But there are other women who have gaunt flesh and thick veins
and moderately sized bones: their blood is more lead-coloured
than sanguine, and their colouring is as if it were blended with
grey and black. They are changeable and free-roaming in their
thoughts, and wearisomely wasted away in affliction; they also
have little power of resistance, so that at times they are worn out
-~melancholy. They suffer much loss of blood at menstruation,
and they are sterile, because they have a weak and fragile
womb. So they cannot lodge or retain or wann a man's seed, and
thus they are also healthier, stronger, and happier without
husbands than with them - especially because, if they lie with
their husbands, they will tend to feel weak afterwards. But men
turn away from them and shun them, because they do not speak
to men affectionately, and love them only a little. If for some
hour they experience sexual joy, it qUickly passes in them. 3
The existence of such elaborated typologies make is clear that

'carnality' is hardly a simple or self-evident notion for either sex.
Certainly, as Peter Dronke's commentary suggests,4 the writings

of Hildegard of Bingen are sometimes shadowed by the Man-
icheanism of an always-flawed sensuality, the gloomy inheritance
of the Fall:
The soul is a breath striving towards the good, but the body
strives towards sins; and rarely and at times hardly at all can the
soul restrain the body from sinning; just as the sun cannot
prevent little wonns from coming out of the earth to the place
that he is wanning in his splendour and heat. S
But in her meditations this antithesis is transient and irregular,

and a lyrical physiology is also prominent:
When a woman is making love with a man, a sense of heat in her

brain, which brings with it sensual delight, communicates the
taste of that delight during the act and summons forth the
emission of the man's seed. 6
Occasional flickerings of Manichean thought notwithstanding, her

writing never espouses what a later tenninolgy might describe as a
female nature. There is no equation of 'women' tout court with a
dangerous sensuality which religious observance must restrain;
nor yet with the naive sexualisation of religious longing. Another
student of theology, the celebrated Heloise who died in 1163, was
far from holding sensuality to be a disgrace; it was to be examined,
and the degree of austerity appropriate to religious women was
arguable.
Other women mystics disprove the charge of an uniquely female
:::!:tJs), ~brg·_'",r;~~ Pnrptp. " Rpel1;np Wit':: pxprutpo on a char~e of
heresy at Paris in 1310. She was seized by the vision of a Holy
Church as a union of free souls: near the final stages of earthly
liberation. the Sacraments and churchmen were not essential for
salvation, and unmediated contact with God was also possible.
Blinded, she believed, by their own desires and will, and their
own fear, conventional churchmen were impervious to Love as the
pure image of Plenitude. Yet for Marguerite Porete, as for Plato in
tIlt' S'!'mr)() ..-.ium. that Love remains in a constant high tension with
its own need. She 'dreams the King',1 dreams of the fable of
Alexander and the maiden and thll5 of direct access to the God she
loves and imagines for helself. In bl!r aristocracy of divine Love,
there is no blissful passivity; spiritual aspirations do not entail the
renunciation of the body. In her Le Miroir des Simples Ames, written
sometime between 1285 and 1295, she describes a struggle:
The heart all alone waged this battle over him, and it answered
in anguish of death that it wanted to abandon its love, by which
it had lived. 8
An ambiguous passage in whi(:h the sense of the ferocity of feared

loss, at least, is unmistakable. Between the twelfth and the four-
teenth centuries, mystical writers, men and women, laboured over
and refought the requirements of their faith for asceticism. It
is not that 'women' were fully consigned to the body, or
that a unique hysteria characterised the woman mystic. A
continuum of sensual and spiritual ecstasy was at the least a
possibility for both sexes; while struggles between flesh and
spirit, where these were felt to be at war with each other, were not
the prerogative of men alone. The religiosity of a swooning female
passivity, the eroticised icon most familiar to us in Bemini's
rendering of St Theresa, is a later interpretation which reviews the
mystic writers with a sardonically sexualising eighteenth-century
gaze.
Still, it would be more misleading to assume that the earlier
period was generously free of the hierarchies of sex; it's a matter of
the changing dominions and territorial annexations which pre-
sented themselves for, in shorthand, sexualisation. The perennial
question here is almost one of emphasis; is continuity or discon-
tinuity to be traced; are we to wonder bitterly at the fertile
proliferations or subordination of 'women', or seize with modified
optimism upon evidence of deep diffp.rpnr"p~ in thp form'" 0f
sexualising? Some historians of the sixteenth century have
stressed a kind of ideological lag where matters of gendered
stratification lay. There was, suggests lan Maclean, less of a change
in the whole notion of women throughout the Renaissance than
the intellectual upheavals and new studies of that period might
lead one to look for; 'at the end of the Renaissance, there is a
greater discrepancy between social realities and the current notion
of woman than at the beginning'.9 The Aristotelian concepticn of
WOman which had continued to penneate Renaissance thought
was abandoned, by medicine and phySIology at least, by 1600.
Nevertheless, this did not entail the end of the thinking which
consigned her to a lower stratum of being, even if that being could

now ~ understood a5 1.!!'!di£t0!"ed !~ i~!'e!£'
Although she is thought to be equally perfect in her sel', she

does not seem to achieve complete parity with man, or does so
only at the expense of considerable dislocation in medical
thought. Her physiology and humours seem to destine her to be
the inferior of man, both physically and mentally .10
So the associations of deprivation with thf> rliffpTPn("PI1. nf I1.PY

persisted, in an altered form. The old Aristotelian conception& had
posited imperfection within herself as the mark of woman, and
translated into mediaeval understanding these emerged as 'de-
prived, passive, and material traits, cold and moist dominant
humours and a desire for completion by intercourse with the
male'.l1 Women themselves were the result of a generative event
which was never completed; necessary though they were for the
survival of the human species, individually each was by definition
imperfecti and imperfect in the etymological sense too, of not fully
carried through. This theory of woman as a misbegotten male, as if
interrupted in a trajectory, could imply that woman was at once a
kind of systematic exception and not necessarily of the same
species as man. Indeed an anonymous work of 1595 enquired as to
whether women are or are not human. 12 But such works were, as
Maclean demonstrates, produced as jokes against some other
object, and although the question, 'Is woman monstrous?' was
voiced, its tone was always satirical or facetious. The very impera-
tive of difference for the continuation of the species saved woman
from the serious attribution of monstrosity. She must be a creature
which accorded with 'the general tendency of nature (intentio
naturae universalis), whereas monsters had to be created by some
truly unnatural disposition. 13 Aristotle's own Metaphysics,
moreover, held that men and women could not be assigned to
different species. The Metaphysics rehearsed what it believes to be
the old Pythagorean oppositions, including that of male to female;
but then Aristotle set out to produce more complex theories of
these and other oppositions. There could be difference of priva-
tion ('species privata') as well as differences of relation - and to be
female could embody both forms. The balance retained a system-
atic if altered idea of the inferiority of women throughout the
Renaissance. In Maclean's summary,
Pro/~resses of the Soul 25
Renaissance theology and law reflect in the main a consen.-ativt:
view of l3ex, linking it to the opposite of priv'Ition ",nn tn
contrariety. In ethics and medicine, the 'species relativa' is more
in evidence, and one may detect a continuum of change rather
than discontinuity_ But even in these disciplines, the conserva-
tive view of sex difference survives, and causes notable disloca-
tions of thought, especially where psychology is i.n question.
Underlying this Aristotelian taxonomy of opposition are
Pythagorean dualihes, which link, without explanation, woman
_.with imperfection, left, dark., evll and so on. These emeO!;e most
Obviously in medicine, but are implied in theology and ethic'"
also. 14
Nevertheless, theology did hold out a limb of significant hope.

Even if the morality of woman were questionable, and her assig-
nation to the cold and moist humours undennined her emotional
.QlPirol and her reasoning powers, since these were associated
with warmth and dryness, all was not lost:
Most writers suggest that woman is less well endowed with

moral apparatus, and continue the practice of praising saintly
women for their paradoxical virtue. But, like woman's subordi-
nation to her husband and her disqualification from full partici-
pation in the spiritual life. this inequality is attached to this life
only, and all commentators stress that she will share equally in
the joys of paradise. In theological terms, woman is, therefore,
the inferior of the male b} natult!, his equal by grace. IS
.. .. ..
This fQrmula set the overshadowing agenda for the flurries of
sixteenth-century feminist polemic which irrupted in Europe, and
it continued to be crucial for seventeenth-century feminisms too.
It was imperative to hang on to the conception of the equality of
spiritual grace, while conceding as little as possible to the concep-
tion of nature's dominion. Some pursued this argument within
the radical religious associations and faiths, as Quakers especially;
the Civil War sects in the 1640s and 16505 provided useful debat-
ing platforms, however transiently. Others, differently placed,
laboured to demonstrate their intellectual powers as guarantees of
their claims to egalitarian standing. Some women authors
achieved a scholastic flamboyance; the prolific writings of Mar-
garet, Duchess of Newcastle, ran splendidly wild over the terrain
of human knowledge known to her. In one dramatic piece,16 she
uses the figure of a 'she Anchoret', a female oracle who holds forth
confidently to the various flocking audiences come to solicit her
opinions on science, business, morality, religion, marriage and
education. The Anchoret is also given to pronouncements on the
natural and historkal worlds alike, and here the Duchess displays
a fine lyricism in her definitions of natural phenomena: light was
. 'inflamed air', the moon 'a body of water', snow' curdled water',
hail 'broken water', and frost, 'candied vapour'. But tyranny
defeats high style, for the She Anchoret commits a principled
suicide rather than endure a forced marriage into a neighbouring
kingdom or else precipitate a war by her refusal.
The same nympholepsy is th", stuff of her Orations of Divers
Sorts, Accomodated to Divers Place, of 1662. Here the Duchess has
composed both sides of debates on subjects of a political and
ethical hue. Among her great range of topics of seventeenth-
century contention, she has a section entitled Femal Orations.
Thesis and antithesis are set out in pairs. One set of orations
proposes the sufferings of women at the hands of men, then
counter-proposes what men do for women, who would, it claims,
otherwise be helpless in the world. Another set debates the most
apt penalties for adultery, against the pennissibility of divorce on
the grounds of cruelty. There are two pairs of debates which are
devoted to contrasting modes by which women might ascend to
some measure of power. Ought they to 'imitate men' and refuse
the assignations held fitting to their sex - or would it be more
prudent to rely instead on the exercise of the traditional 'feminine
virtues' which were able to enslave men by discreet means? 50 the
first debater within this set emphasises the emptiness of 'women'
thus:
Let us Hawk, Hunt, Race and to the like Exercises as Men have,
and letus Conv:.?rse in Camps, Courts, and Cities, in Schools,
Colleges, and Courts of Judicature, in Taverns, Brothels and
Gaming Houses, all which will make our Strength and Wit
known, both to Men, and to our own Selves, for we are as
Ignorant of our Selves, as Men are of us. And how sheuld we
Know our Selves, when as we never milde a Trial of our Selves?
IJr how should Men know us, when a!> they never rut us to the
Proof? Wherfore . my Advice is. we should imitate Men, so will
our Bodies and Minds appear more masculine, and our Power
will Increase by our Actions. 1 ?
The antithetical argument sets aside this tactic of borrowing the

armour of the opposers, for fear of ending up in a no-man's and a
no-woman's land:
We cannot change the Nature of our Sex, for we cannot make

ourselves Men; and to have femal Bodies, and yet to Act Mas-
culine Parts, wilLbe very Preposterous and Unnatural; in Truth,
we shall make our Selves like as the Defects of Nature, as to be
Hermaphroditical, as neither to be Perfect Women nor Perfect
Men, but Corrupt and Imperfect Creatures. l8
The better tactic, then, would be to pursue the feminine virtues, to

become 'Modest, Chast, Temperate, Humble, Patient and Pious:
also to be Huswifely, Cleanly, and of few Words'. 19
The next pair of Orations elaborate the struggle towards equality
on the one hand, and the insistence on the natural superiority of
women within their differences on the other:
Since all terrestrial Imitations ought to Ascend to the Better, and

not to Descend to the Worse, Women ought to imitate Men, as
being a degree in Nature more Perfect, than they Themselves,
and all Masculine Women ought to be as much praised as
Effeminate Men to be Dispraised, for the One advances to
Perfection, the other Sinks to Imperfection, that so by our
Industry we may come at last to Equal Men both in Perfection
and Power. 20
10 thls the tormer speaker retorts that such sentIments do

unnecessary violence, in that they
perswade us out of our Selves, as to be That, which Nature

never Intended us to be, to wit Masculine, since our own Sex
and Condition is for the Better.21
For the dangers and travails of men would serve to age and
dallkdg~ WUl1U:lI, dll..l . ut:: "ilU )' lilt::il T t.;uuu ~~. L.; ,.c",Jk5"li'
Wom~l" rossess their own natural gifts which fClr,f' ~hp hwp. and
desire of men, and thence theIr t'nslave[nen~' 'iH\d whilt can Wf'
Desire more, than tu be Men's Tyrants, Destinies and God-
desses?'.22
Here are the pOJanties ot the mid-seventeenth-century argu-
ments; their familiarity is conspicuous and their repetitions need
no emphasis. Yet what sense can we make of this very familiarity
of the sexual oppositions set out formally here? The Duchess of
Newcastle organised them in their ranks as evidence of her mas-
tery of this as of a myriad other rhetorical debates. It is hard to read
them lightly, or as mere displays of technical virtuosity. With the
i1)tennittent bitterness, there's a weariness; it's as if the alignment
vI "I:" .. !!t"~ll!>l !>t!A LiUI iilLU very iew expressive forms ana must
soon lapse into monotony, reiterations of the old querelles.
By the end of the century, new arguments make their appear-
ance. The author of An Essay in Defence of the Female Sex, which
was published anonymously in 1696, attacks the tedium of the
literature of sexual wars. Vigorously setting herself against the
temptation to make easy alliances, she refuses to follow the ex-
ample of 'Mr W' (possibly Wycherley) whose championing of her
!;ex is somewhat ambiguous: he
thinks us sufficiently fortified, if out of the story of Two

Thousand Years he has been able to pick up a few examples of
Women illustrious for their Wit, Learning or Vertue, and Men
infamous for the contrary: though I think the most inveterate of
our Enemies would have spar'd him that Labour, by granting
that all Ages have produc'd Persons famous or infamous of both
Sexes: or they must throw up all pretence to Modesty, or
Reason. 23
The author herself resolves not to scrabble for Great Women

through the ages, and writes firmly that she
shall leave Pedants and School-Boys to rake and tumble the

Rubbish of Antiquity, and muster all the Heroes and Heroins
they can find to furnish matter for some wretched Harangue, or
stuff a miserable Declamation with instead of Sense or Argu-
ment. 24
Nor will she submit herself to the strictures of those critics of her
writing who declare that her style is too masculine:
::~But, with their leave, I think I may boldly advance, that let them
form themselves with equal carE', by the same Model!'; and thf"y
~Win no more be able to discern a Man's Stile from a Woman's,
than they can tell whether this was written with a Goose Quill,
-or a Gander's. 2S
1he, ~uthor first passionately dismisses the notion that,. writing,

and hence thought, can be sexually aligned; there are no 'woman's
_ _s'; and indeed her Essay in Defence of the Female Sex is
""",M'kabJe- iA. the line~e of defensivi! literature because It is
IN'il;!1y antipathetic to championing female virtues. Instead it
lH!N'inises differences which result from social custom. It is the
wOidly circumstances of men, their education, their 'Freedom of
CoOl\verse'26 which gives them the edge of advantage, yet may not
the conversation of women also profit ingenious men? There are
some savants, she says, who maintain that there is 'no such
cliStincztion, as Male and Female Souls' .27 The body may indeed be
able to influence the mind, yet bodily differences are not perti-
nent: 'I see therefore no natural Impediment in the structure of our
Bodies' . 28 Nor does the natural world teach any damning lessons
C)tl this score: 'in Brutes and other Animals there is no difference
betWixt Male and Female in pOint of Sagacity'. 29
Neither the body nor nature can account, she considers, for the
subjugation of women. Nor can any simple conception of society;
for there are dear differences among the estates and sometimes
these may be fairly egalitarian in their treatment of women.
Among country labouring people, she observes, 'the Condition of
the two Sexes is more level, than amongst Gentlemen, City Trades,
or rich Yeomen'.3D She knows too that Dutch women handle
busin"s.s. affairs themselves, and that this is considered nothing
remarkable.
Later a suspiCion of sex-specific virtues darts into the author's
analysis: women are conspiCUOUS for their 'Vivacity' and their
'Readiness of Invention'; 'we were chiefly intended for Thought,
and the Exercise of the Mind' whereas men must use their vaunted
strength on 'action and labour'. 31 Jealous of their gifts of quick-
ness, men, writes the anonymous author in a familiar vein,
oppress women out of envy. Yet she proceeds with an elaborate
series of arguments which have no interest in natural attributions;
social causes can be found, she insists, for apparent sexual differ-
ences. We may ignore with justice the historians' evidence about

the natural basis of the legal suppression of women: 'for if any
Histories were anciently written by Women, Time, and the Malice
of Men have effectually conspir'd to suppress' em' . 32
Girls are put at a disadvantage, for, educated apart after the age
of six or seven, they lack a training in the classics. Yet even this
need not be an insurmountable handicap, for translations abound,
most prominently by Dryden. There are enough fine works com-
posed originally in English by poets, critics, moralists, essayists
like Locke, dramatists. Yet why, she wonders, are there so few
works by women authors, with the honourable exceptions of a few
like Mrs Philips and Mrs Behn? Because, she believes, potential
women writers may be thwarted at the outset, persuaded by
custom
never to enquire so far into themselves and their own Abilities,

as to bring such a thought into their Heads. 'This last I fancy is
the true Reason, why our Sex, who are commonly charged with
talking too much, are Guilty of writing so little. 33
Vanity and incompetence are vices generously scattered

throughout the population of men, too; she digresses to satirical
denunciations of the Pedant and the Country Squire among
others, to attacks on the Beau, the Bully, the Poetaster, the
Coffee-House Savant and the tedious breed of Natural Historians,
'Vertuoso's' who never know when to subside. Such men are
indeed better dissemblers, having enjoyed a sophisticated school-
ing in the arts of dissimulation; and they are more racked by envy
and ambition, vices which have a greater scope to flourish in that
sex which most perambulates the social world. That the
capabIlities of women for wisdom arp If'''s f'1(('rd~en and
developed is an effect of their upbringing: but, the anonymous
writer adds, the earlier maturing of sense in girls is universally
acknowledg~d: thE: judgment of a fifteen-year-old girl may well
equal that of a twenty-one-year-old youth.
All these have the ring of arguments familiar in a later feminism.
Not nature, but culture, is the cause of the apparent deficiencies of
women. Tht! female subject is what she is made. What she is, is
lIui KUUWll. As Margaret, Uuchessot Newcastle wrote, 'we are as
It;nGrilnt of our Selves, as Men are uf us'. Or. as the Cartt"sian
nO'iC'ffilC'r. Poulain de la HarrE. had "lIgge<;tp.din 1673 HO innate
inferiority could sensibly be deduced from the past performances
of women who lacked education. Successive nineteenth-century
feminisms made similar propositions - John Stuart Mill would
echo them in his The Subjection of Women of 1869 - but the
particular vexation and spur of seventeenth-century feminism is
the status of the soul as it relates to the increasingly sexed self. If
woman - who is not known - becomes more and more assigned to
the natural order in which human custom merely follows instinct,
then that indeterminate self, which education might prove and
clarify, also suffers a trivialising contraction. Only the spiritual
equality of women stood in the way of a thoroughgoing and
reductive feminisation. This was under serious threat, however;
to find new grounds for egalitarian argument was imperative. The
plea for education intensified.
One of the best-known seventeenth-century advocates of
women's emancipation by means of education, Mary Astell, was a
High Church Tory and the author of anti-dissenting works. Her A
Serious Proposal to the Ladies, for the Advancement of their True and
Greatest Interest of 1694 proposes a version of Christine de Pisan's
city of ladies. How are enforced, not innate, incapacities to be
remedied?
We will therefore enquire what it is that stops your tllght, that

keeps you groveling here below; like Domitian catching Flies
when you should be busied in obtaining Empires. 34
Let women, she pleads, only be given equal opportunities for

religious studies, not in order to usurp male dominions, but for
the salvation of their own souls: 'Our only endeavour shall be to
be absolute Monarchs in our own Bosoms.'35 To this end, let
women go to a . H.ehgious Retirement' and there learn to
Disengage our selves from all our former Prejudices, from our
Opinion of Names, Authorities, Customs and the like, not give
credjt to any thing any longer because we have once believ'd it,
but because it carries clear and uncontested Evidence along with
it. 36
Dy .>uLil IIledll::. lile ... ildIlLe::. vi ::.pjliludi lelielLlI.JllUII Will HUI ue

jeopardised by the impos~d distractions ef 'tinse!wJrc' en earth.
Later she turns her attention to the lot of those women who are
Cilready entrenched, by the exercising of their own impoverished
rhoiC"PS. within 't.vn.,.~rt'!., i~~~!~uti~~~. !-!c:- S;::;,; Rcl!~.:.!i';i .. it "I.hih
Marriage, of 1700, is an extraordinary piece of writing. Its surlace
of piety and devotion to the idea of educating women to a due
understanding of their duty is constantly ripped across by the
most bitter irony, which at times seems to run beyond the author's
control. How, she asks, should women properly submit them-
selves and bear the worldly frustrations of their hope?
A Prospect of Heaven, and that only will r1)T'P th"t A,...'h1·in~

which all Generous Minds are fiU'd with; not by taking it away,
but by placing it on a right Object. 37
In this Heaven the venerable traditions of spiritual democracy will

be triumphantly fulfilled: 'her Soul shall shine as brightly as the
greatest Heroe's' to compensate it for those repeated injuries
inflicted by the 'Customs of the World'. 38
But while she is on earth, then adherence to her duty must
demand her education to that duty:
Superiors don't rightly understand their own Interest when they

attempt to put out their Subjects Eyes to keep them Obedient. A
Blind Obedience is what a Rational Creature shou'd never Pay,
nor wou'd such a one receive it did he rightly understand its
Nature. 39
Mary Astell goes on to systematically explode the case she has

been advancing, and turns around her own injunctions to the
virtue of an informed submission in marriage thus; why should a
woman marry, and endure the mortification of her own will for a
husband who may not deserve this? Such a marriage would
indeed be a kind of martyrdom which would need the most
rigorous education in firmness of purpose for the woman. For if
you chose to marry a tyrant, once the tyranny has been made plain
to you, it will only cause you to be more refractory. Not that there
is any even distribution of guilt in a union made unhappy by such
a husband; 'both Parties are ind€ed Guilty, but the Aggressors
have a double Guilt, they have not only their own but their
Neigh bours ruin to answer for' .40
She allows the duty of women's submission within marriage,
only in order to lay it at the feet of Custom or of religious duty - as
apposed to any notion of Natural Inferiority, Frum ..... h~J",t: then,
sIle asks, come the worldly disadvantages of women? Not from
divine or from natural disposition. Social practice is the culpnt;
girls are 'restrain'd, frown'd upon, and beat, not for but from the
Muses: Laughter and Ridicule, that never-failing Scare-crow, is set
up to divert them from the Tree of Knowledge'. 41
Mary Astell's astringent advocacy of the virtues of reserve,
di:;cretion and constancy in wives is matched by her lnsistence
that, however much obedience to a brutish husband may be
priiisewurH,y", lht! wife had bt::tter (hoos€: .::autiously in the !irst
place:
She who elects a Monarch for life, who gives him an Authority
she cannot recall however he misapply it ... had need be very
sure that she does not make a Fool her Head, nor a Vicious Man
her Guide and Pattern, she had best stay till she can meet with
one who has the Government of his own Passions, and has duly
regulated his own Desires, since he is to have such an absolute
power over hers. 42
Yet is it reasonable, she implies, to demand such maturity of

judgment from a woman who has been systematically mis-
educated? For women's training has served
to disturb, not to regulate their Passions; to make them timorous

and dependent, and in a word, fit for nothing else but to act a
Farce for the Diversion of their Govemours 43
Again she argues that it's a cruelty to reproach women for those
shortcomings which men force upon them, and a cruelty to
demand their submission to that which they can't fully under-
stand, then to ascribe their incomprehension to their integral
nature, The battle against characterisations of women's nature is
already joined. Mary Astell is well aware of how categories of
'women' can be used in the service of contempt. On the one hand,
she writes:
Women are nor so well united as to fonn an Insurrection, They

are for the most part wise enough to love their Chains and to
discern how very becomingly they sit. , .. Let them in short be
what is call'd VERY Women, for this is most acceptable to all
sorts of Men; or let them aim at the Title of Good Devout
Women, since some men can bear with this.44
The determination to be a woman, to live into the expectations

aroused by the categorisation, has its uses. Yet even this, she
argues, affords no reliable protection:
But how can a Man respect his Wife when he has a contemptible
opinion of her and her Sex? When from his own Elevation he
looks down on them as void of Understanding, and fulL of
Ignorance and Passion, so that Folly and a Woman are equival-
ent terms with him?4S
Such sexual antagonism can cut two ways:
We who made the idols, are the greater Deities: and as we set
you up, so it is in our power to reduce you to your first
obscurity, or to somewhat worse, to Contempt. 46
The reign of antagonisms offers an inhuman prospect, though'

'Contempt is scarce a human passion.'47 Nevertheless, even the
sentiment of scorn towards women might serve as a disguised
generosity to the sex, if it woulf only serve to activate them, to
wrench them into protest against
the whole design of those fine Discourses which have been

made against the Women from our great Fore-fathers to this
present Time!48
Again and again this wntlng sets up a surface of measured

serenity, but shatters It. Unlym Load ean sexual <llllerence oe
finally transcended. On this earth there is no settled happiness,
even though some divinely sanctioned concessions did exist:
God himself who is no Respecter of Persons, with whom there is

neither Bond nor Free, Male nor Female, but they are all one in
Christ Jesus, did not deny Women that Divine Gift the Spirit of
Prophecy, neither under the Jewish nor Christian Dispensa
lioll.':
In a manner perhaps more raffiJlidf to modern reader.; from Marv

l'YoHstonecraft's A VilldicatlUlI 0/ tilt: Rights 0/ Womel! of almost cl
century later, Mary Astell reiterates that in so far as women display
faults of character, these are the debris of a silly and pernicious
education, and from them nothing about women's 'natural' dis-
position could be fairly deduced. Careful distinctions must be
drawn, she insists repeatedly, between the natural potential and
the socially crippled capacities of women. Here an education in
self-knowledge is the key. As she writes in Reflections upon Mar-
riage:
For Sense is a Portion that God himself has been pleas'd to

distribute to both Sexes with an Impartial Hand, but Learning is
what Men have engross'd to themselves, and one can't but
admire their great Improvements! so
No appeals to Nature are to be allowed where they mask the

inflictions due to Custom; and where the democracy of the soul
can be claimed, then Mary AstelI deploys the arguments from that.
Her insistence that the defects of femininity are taught, and that
what 'women', undistorted, might be is unknown, is constantly
supported by the premise of a native spiritual equality. In this
respect, feminism after Mary Astell has a worse foe to contend
with once concepts of Nature have risen to the fore so as to
envelop "women' utterly.
.. ..
The many directions from which new assertions about the natural
were pronounced had little in common bar a lack of progressive
implications for thinking about the sexes. If secular theories of
human nature in general tended to underwrite the relation be-
tween men and women and to emphasise sexual difference,
llll::uiugH.:di debates about tne possibility of saivatiulI agaiu
returned to the proximity of sexuality to the fall from grace. In the
mid eighteenth-century religious controversies in France which
preceded the expulsion of the Jesuits, Jansenists, anti-humanist
and ascetic, looked back to an Augustinian view of the corruptible
character of human nature. They attacked, in the name of a
rigorous and unflinching anti-humanism, what they saw as the
indulgences of the more leisurely Jesuitical attitude to earthly life,
;\~hic!-.. fOi:-:ju.-.,,-- ~~ ~~~::;~ ~!-LL ~c~.:;~!:.i!i~- ef ~-CdL:TL~!:'::-l ~:;: :.~~; :.:
Pascal c;aid; only ~(l.me wprp. i1!1owecl efficacious grilce by Cod
while the rest of mankind dwt'lt in the provenance of concupj::;-
cenee. SI The darkness of the soul undenvent an increasing sexual-
36 'Am 1 That Name?'
lsation In theological thought in England after the Restoration,
,...·h.l!~ th~ !~lLi !,.H·"6~~b""~ vC .·'~:to..li"'! i16h~ ill ~!,~ .:u. . "" ""!a . . ·...·vl!J .... t:rc
largely unperturbed by the soul, and saw societal arrangements as
Custom sensibly sanctioning Nature. This set the terms of the
polemic - what was ascri bable to innate differences, and what to the
inroads of habit and education. As the possibilities of arguing
from the natural democracy of the soul fell away, the associations
of 'women' with the natural were magnified to a point of mutual
implication. .
Rnllc:c:p'::I1lPC:,}"P thnllgl,.t ic th", !PElr!ip~t pY.~""'rlp f)f ~~;" T\""'~'" i o
nothing to be gained from setting about the ears of Rousseau
himself - that he offers no comfort to feminism is well enough
established, as are the idiosyncracies of his positions. Still, it can
be safely claimed that Rousseau's notoriously complicated version
of human nature did entail a high degree of sexualisation of that
nature: the infusion of the state of being a woman with a
'woman's' nature so that no neutral enclave of the person remains
unfilled and unoccupied by femininity.
La Nouvelle Heloise, first published in 1761, the elaborate
account of a romance conducted in letters, offers substantially the
same antipathies to the rights of women as those advanced in
Emile a year later. This would be the gloomy inheritance for Mary
Wollstonecraft, as it was the fruition of Mary Astell's intimations
as to the horrors of appeals to women's nature. In the drama 'the
moral distinction between the sexes'52 is played out fully. As a
participant in it writes:
The soul of a perfect woman and a perfect man ought to be no

more alike than their faces. All our vain imitations of your sex
are absurd; they expose us to the ridicule of sensible men, and
discourage the tender passion we were made to inspire. 53
The pupil Emile lives under a system of intimate tutelage which

amounts to voyeuristic sUlVeillance, most exaggerated in the nar-
ration of his courtship and marriage to Sophie. For a wife, fidelity
to Nature demands uncritical submission; not because any
spiritual consolations may be looked for, but because here Nature
is the fixed hierarchies of the social order. Women are the embod-
iment of this ordered Nature, so that disturbances of the natural
practices of maternity, for instance, will have monstrous conse-
quences. The young Sophie 'should be as truly a woman as Emile is a
man' - she must posses all those characteristics of her sex which
are required to enable her to play her part in the physical and
moral order. 'But for her sex, a woman is a man; she has the same
organs, the same needs, the same faculties.'54
Yet what does Rousseau mean by the sex of a woman? He
himself is hesitant in his very assertivene!fs:
General differences present themselves to the ·comparative

anatomist and even to the superficial observer; they seem not to
be a matter of sex; }'ct they arc really sex differences, though the
connectIOn eJU(1es our ooservi:ItJon. nuw ii:1I tiu .. il ..i.ifIt::lt:H'-f'"
may extend we cannot tell. ss
Yet again he confidently states, as in La Nouvelle HilOise, 'A perfect

man and a perfect woman should no more be alike in mind than in
face.'56 So the 'sex' of the woman is in fact a generally suffusing
characteristic. Hence the difference in the temporalities of gen-
dered being for men and for women, periodicities which Rous-
seau names, but doesn't remove from the realms of mass psychol-
ogy: 'The male is only a male now and again, the female is always
aiemale, or at least all her youth; everything reminds her of her
sex. '57 The thesis that 'The native characters of sex should be
respected as nature's handiwork'58 launches a long polemic
against contemporary notions of the rights of women, for
Women do wrong to complain of the inequality of man-made

laws; this inequality is not of men's making, or at any rate it is
not the result of mere prejudice, but of reason.59
'The general laws of nature and morality'6o entail that childbearing

iS1Fie1ot of women, and where they are defied in other spheres, as
with Plato's stipulations in The Republic that the wives of Guar-
dians should be trained as the men, chaos ensues:
that political promiscuity under which the same occupations are

assigned to the sexes alike, a scheme which could only lead to
intolerable evils; I refer to that subversion of all the tenderest of
our natural feelings, which he [Plato] sacrified to an artificial
sentiment which can only exist by their aid. 1>1
The seekers after rights, women usurpers,

fall below their own level as women, instead of rising to the

level of men ... Do not try to make your daughter a good man in
defiance of nature. Make her a good woman, and be sure it will
be better for both her and US. 62
This, in the teeth of
our modem philosophy which makes a jest of female modesty

and its so-called insincerity. I also perceive that the most certain
result :of this philosophy will be to deprive the women of this
centurv from such shreds of honour as they still possess. 6)
It is as if a strongly conventional identity of 'women' must be

maintained in order to secure the identity of 'men'. Indeed,
Rousseau says that whereas 'The poor may come to manhood
without our help'64 nevertheless the achievement of men's social-
sexual capacities demands, as its precondition, that women be
women:
Would you restore all men to their primal duties, begin with the
mothers: the results will surprise you. Every evil follows in the
train of this first sin; the whole moral order is disturbed, nature
is quenched in every breast, the house becomes gloomy, the
spectacle of a young family no longer stirs the husband's love
and the stranger's reverence. 6S
There's no doubt that the prior identification of one sex allows that
of the other: 'When women become good mothers, men will be
good husband'i and fathers.'66 The necessary conservatism of
sibility for securing the proper order oi things, emerges agam In

that complementary consciousness Rousseau ascribes to the sexes.
Reason over~hoots the feminine and in so doing characterises it,
and its own implicit maleness. Women, embedded in natural
wisdom, still lack the self-reflexivity of rationality. 67 Though they
may function passively as moral texts in their existence, they are
by definition devoid of the powers of analytic thought.
Thert' i.c;; tht> ionplirfltiOH in FO\J""f>"IU th~t. if ~uma" !1iltltrf'
possesses a history and is eminently social. then it is capable of
Jmelioration. As Alasdair McIntyre comment"·
It is one of Rousseau's cardinal virtues to have asked for an
explanation of specific ills in human life, and in so doing, to
have opened the way for sociological hope to replace theological
despair. 68
This general will to the common good, shorn of Hobbesian cyni-

cism and of spiritual Manicheanism, needed some new expression
of the generality of citizens. But how could the impossible sexual
democracy of the citizen ever be reached, if women were barred
by Rousseau to being claimants to political subjecthood?
'Sociological hope' is the expression of the sociological coIlectivit}',
with all its fragilities, and it was this which came to challenge, in
the name of political emancipation, the emptiness of the generality
which obscured it.
.. .. ..
How could woman ever become a rational and therefore a poten-
tially political subject, given the powers of her assignation to the
natural which in the Rousseauesque schema sustains the very
social order at its best? Madame de Stael, almost forty years after
the publication of Emile, meditated on the curiously transitional
state of her sex in De La LitUrature:
The rank which women hold in society is still, in many respects,

indeterminate ... in the present state of things they are placed
neither in the order of nature, nor in the order of society. 69
Woman, she surmised, was a hybrid being who lived in the

uneasy condition of the freed slave; 'helotism' was the term which
best spoke for her condition. Vexed herself by torments of self-
rn"~~i0~!~~E:~~ ,\\·hich, :hc held, rr. \..t.5t ~ff1~~t t!-l~ '~'A~cptlorl~!'
wuman, the woman as writer, Madame de Stael described the
plight of those who may come to regret their prominence:
sense, talents, an impassioned mind, may induce them to

emerge from the cloud in which they ought always to be
enveloped: but they never cease to recur to it with regret as their
safest asylum. 70
For whatever the true isolation of the woman writer, her existence
as such must always expose her to the cruelties of gossip. Yet how,
"hE' wondered, might the feminine 'virtues' be retained while It

was nevertheless necessary to overstep the boundaries set by
convention in search of a genuine independence of thought? She
concluded her book with an agonised dilemma: the struggle
between reasoned and affective expression, where the terms were
all dictated by notions of femininity:
By what means can a distinction be made twixt the talents and

the mind? How can we set aside what we feel, when we trace
what we think? how impo&e silence un those sentiments which
lIve m us, wIthout losmg any ot the Ideas which those senti·
ments have inspired? What kinds of writings would result from
these continual combats? Had we not better yield to all the faults
which arise from the irregularities of nature?71
Madame de Stael's burst of despair is indeed comprehensible;

while passion and emotion must fight it out within the language of
the woman writer who was caught in the grip of conventions
which stressed an apposite femininity, there could be little hope
for any progressive resolution. On the contrary, the growing
eroticising of 'women' diminished such possibilities severely. As
Ian Watt has suggested:
It is, in all events, very evident that the eighteenth century

witnessed a tremendous narrowing of the ethical scale, a re-
definition of virtue in primarily sexual terms. 72
If virtue was to be assessed on a restricting compass of the sexual,

and the whole being of women was their sex which was so
proximate to sexuality, then women as pretenders to the ethical
were radically handicapped in their very existence. The ethical
sphere was hardly democratic if ontology barred its entrance thus.
If post-Rousseau woman was marked by her closeness to Nature,
that too implied her intimacy with the sexual. The whole moral
potential of women was therefore thoroughly different, and their
relation to the order of moral reason was irretrievably not that of
men's. Ethics has a history, and the history of women as ethical
subjects unfolds along contorted paths of alliance with the idea of
nature, and with the later idea of the social.
Hegel was quite clear on this. Writing about the family in the
Phenomenology of the Spirit in 1807, he locates the internal family
41
emotions as the unconscious notion of the ethical. as u!-'posed it..

Hle family's full ethical status as a part of the ::'~T..'.!.!'.!~; ::-
~iety. The link towards that universality is the father, who
moves also in the outer world; the virtuous woman, the wife, must
work with the realm of the natural, the domestic, and the particu-
lar, which will always drag her backwards. Hers is a different, yet
none the less authentic, order of ethical being from t~at offered by
the civic world. Again, the sister's relation to her brother pos-
M$Ses a distinctive ethical quality, which is familial but unmixed
Wit'" 0: ...... 11"} "Tn("'t;nn Rnth th .. H"epH"," tAll(.. :lnrl <:io:tPT nrrnp;-"
distinct and virtuous niches in the home. Thus the two :;€xe",
acquire 'the significance of their respective determinations'.73 But
~niversal ethical life may only be achieved by the citizen who is
able to move in the communal world outside the private house-
hold: the man. There is for Hegel no conception of woman tout
court as an ethical being; she is intelligible only within her various
immersions in the family. How, then, may the woman ever cross
over into society, and ascend to the condition of the fully social
individual? If women are only to be thought in relation, then the
status of being a woman while being a social-ethical subject is a
logical impossibility. There are analogous difficulties for the Kan-
tian scheme of ethical being; there the moral agent must have a
strict autonomy, must function as a sovereign individual. Women.
always conceived in relation, are therefore impossible as subjects.
As for ethics, so for politics. The attainment of the natural right
to liberty after the late seventeenth century was intimately bound
up with the ownership of property; Locke's state of nature was
both familial and property-holding. And if, from the aspect of
both ethical theory and their ascribed natural disposition~
W4iJIR@R's,habitat was that familial sphere, however might women.
without property, ever begin to lay claim to political subjecthood?
If women's natures are indeed increasingly sexualised in the
course of the eighteenth century - on top of their deep implausi-
bRit}' as ethical and political actors - then the inheritance of
obstacles to the development of feminism is indeed monstrous, As
the soul of the woman shrinks and is made gender-specific, so vice
swells in her body; not, of course, with any novelty, except that.
crucially, the territorial powers of the body'are at the same time
enlarged.
Intimate, particular, familial. pre-rationaI, extra-civic, soaked in
its sexual being; a femininity thus understood needed to be
shored up against its own risks of overflooding its walls.

Threatened vagaries of sexual identities preoccupy several
eighteenth-century writers. As one of Clarissa Harlowe's corres-
pondents writes to her, describing a vigorous housewife who had
crossed into the domains of the stud servants, 'Indeed, my dear, I
do not think a man-woman a pretty character at all.'74 If it was
probable that there was some continuity between the nature of a
man and that of a woman,- where were the boundaries? A woman
who resembled a man, like the old woman who haunts the scene
of the main crime in Richardson's Clarissa, had a uniquely night-
marish and unspeakable caste. She exemplified a hybrid nature,
which was not simply 'masculine' and therefore susceptible at
least to analysis, but was indescribable. Diderot too discusses the
mongrel'homme-femme'. His Sur les Femmes of 1772 dwells on the
play of the female reproductive cycle, and on an invalidism which
marks out the entire being of the woman, such that her whole
condition is also pathological; 'it seems that Diderot regards
femininity as a kind of permanent hypnosis', observes Rita Gold-
berg. 75 Woman, her femininity displayed on the level of her very
writing and speech, has· become virtually an embryonic
psychiatric classification.
Richardson's Clarissa is a clear example of a sexualised religios-
I ty which is being deployed in order to scrutinise religious convic-
tion. Goldberg has suggested that it is the trial of a young woman

on the ground of sexuality, made as a test of the social world in
which she moved; 'The history of misreadings of Clarissa is one
due that it was regarded as a test of beliefs about both religion and
sexuality.'76 There is indeed nothing unprecedented about the
·:onviction that there are close proximities between the spiritual
,md the erotic, exemplified by the mediaeval mystics of both sexes.
out a Quterent pnenomenoll altogemef OHuffed wnen me SlOW
(>xtension of a homogenising Nature, aided by independent revi-
sions in theological thought, pervaded the idea of the soul of
woman so a~ to displace it. These changes were allied to a literary
sensualising of women's religious adherence. Together they con-
tributed powerfully to a largely stultifying formation in which a
ciefinitive and relentlessly internally consistent 'women's nature'
was established and named.
:H ,,1l~':> ~UHEJ !Jj"v,-l:t,J 1 illu~( l.<Il-'tA.:..lI~; to the ungc.ncicn.:u JuuI ·V.,'Jil(h
"'ad pr(lvided <;urh useflll platform<; for <;eventel'nth-o::ntury
'",ll1inist5, religious radical, ,1noll'~forrn{'rs, QlI<lker~ .~Ild llllCmbert'
of Civil War sects, became anachronisms. 77 Those versions of
spirituality which the nineteenth century elaborated were gener-
ally given to asserting the distinctively 'womanly' soul in which
the supposedly highest qualities of femininity were refined; the
very characterisation of this sexed soul was not contested. That the
soul before God had no sex was not an argument available for
feminist deployment after the eighteenth century's revisions of
Nature and Reason. It was not merely that ideas about women had
changed. The whole meaning of 'woman' had been transformed
once the concept of the fe~ale person as thoroughly sexed through
all her regions of being had become entrenched. As the neutral
domains of the sou.1 had contracted, so it had become possible to
be a sex.
3
'The Social', 'Woman', and
Sociological Feminism
C;'l<:'1n R Anthonv (vnirp frnm hphinrl thp c;tiltllP)'
It is a puzzle, I am not puzzled but it is a
puzzle, if there are no children there are no men and
women, and if there are men and women, it is rather
horrible, and if it is rather horrible, then there
are children, I am not puzzled but it is very
puzzling, women and men vote and children, I am
not puzzled but it is very puzzling.
(Gertrude Stein libretto for
The Mother of Us All, an operetta
by Virgil Thomson, 1947)
Writing in the first year of the nineteenth century, Madame de

Stael lamented the inheritance of chaotic Republican notions of
women allied to the devastations bequeathed by Rousseauesque
suppositions. She reflected:
The education of women has, in all free countries, been adapted

to the peculiar constitution established in each: at Sparta they
were accustomed to the exercise of war; at Rome, austere and
patriotic virtues were required of them. If, therefore, it is
wished that the principal object of the French republic should be
emulation in mental improvement and philosophy, it would
surely be a rational plan to promote the cultivation of the female
mind, in order that men may find companions with whom they
may converse on subjects the most interesting to themselves.
Nevertheless, since the revolution, men have thought it politi-
cally and morally desirable to reduce the female mind to the
most absurd mediocrity: the conversation they have addressed
to women, has been in a language as devoid of delicacy as of
sense; and consequently the latter have had no inducement to
excite the powers of their understanding. 1
44
'The Social', 'Women', and Sociological Feminism 45
If this continumg abasement of women was propelled by a fear
that men could only become full Republicans at the cost of sacrific-
ing women's best characterIstics, this was a sad IDlsapprenenslon:
During the course of the revolution, those same women have

given the most numerous and convincing proofs of energy and
intrepidity. Frenchmen can never become such absolute repub-
licans, as wholly to annihilate the independen~e and pride
natural to the female character.2
1\ lujivYVcu a" ~L !uul lul ;".,uy "w ',)lJ..:Jo\UJl":\"lQ;~, L:..L"",.. ..... v ....... ~~
J
should be educated, and that their improvement would benefit

everyone:
If the condition of the female world in the civil order of things is

very defective; surely to alleviate their situation and not to
degrade their mind, is the order most desirable. Assiduously to
call forth female sense and reason, is useful both to mental
improvement and the happiness of society. J
A new object, society, could be proposed as the beneficiary of

female education, something at once stronger and less precise than
the good of 'men' or women's spiritual redemption. If the post-
revolutionary goal was the restitution of some natural nobility,
then that social object, Madame de Stael insisted, could only be
damaged if the range of education was narrowed:
It is not by contracting the sphere of ideas, that the simplicity of

the primitive ages can be restored; and the only result of such a
system is, that less understanding has produced less delicacy,
less respect for public opinion, and fewer means of supporting
solitude. 4
Madame de Stain's unhappiness was not be be resolved. Not

only were women, after the Revolution, doomed to suffer ·501-
itude' in their previous darkness, but the empire of Nature am-
tinued to swell. It dictated or at least sanctioned not only a
restricted education, but the terms of succeeding decades of eman-
cipationist debate in Europe. For instance, that strange hybrid of
an expression, 'natural rights', sounds as if it might have held
open a door to the claim for political rights. Yet this could not
happen without some revision of 'the natural', and this came

surprisingly late. For a century at least, Nature flourished, among
other places, within the argument for 'separate spheres' which so
tormented the suffrage debates; women's natural differences con-
tributed to their fixation within the domestic realm. In 1869, John
Stuart Mill was only abl~ to echo the older emancipationists'
argument as it had been raised in the eighteenth century: that any
appeals to the self-evident forms of women's destiny under the
sway of Nature mustbe empty, because Nature only presents itself
in an already distorted shape:
If men had ever been found in society without women, or

women without men, or if there had been a society of men and
women in which the women were not under the control of the
men, something might have been positively known about the
mental and moral differences which may be inherent in the
nature of each. What is now called the nature of women is an
eminently artificial thing - the result of forced repression in
some directions, unnatural stimulation in others.s
Harriet Taylor (Mill), writing in 1851. constructed her lucid pleas

for liberation from 'the aristocracy of sex' by emphasising the
contingency of supposedly gender-innate behaviour. She alluded
to Sydney Smith's persuasion that sexual differences can be
explained through the effects of circumstances alone, 'without
referring to any conjectural differences of original conformation of
mind'.6 To demand both educational and civic enfranchisement
entailed, as Harriet Taylor's essay demonstrated, a rigorous criti-
que of the reigning conviction that women possessed a thoroughly
Jistinct mentality.
t1ut thiS was not me ena 01 (ne (aSK: somt! ~imb ur "nJuwin~
'women' with compensatory characteristics was also necessary to
assert them as likely candidates for emancipation. How might
'women' be, in effect, rehabilitated? If the legacy of the eighteenth
century had been an intensification of a naturalised femininity,
placed firmly in the family, then it's as if these very ascriptions
were taken on in the nineteenth century, to be wielded as
weapons of women's elevation. If woman's sphere was to be the
"':Ulllbi!L, iJ.t!f, let the SO(.;idl wurld t.ecome a great arena for
rlnrn(:'sticfltpcj intf'rvcntion. where the empathies supposedly
pendi.1f to thE' sex might t1~IIHj .. h (In ·1 hmad and visible scale. If
'women' were a separate species, then let them make a separate
contribution to the world, and let their efforts humanise the
public. If the subjection of women had been secured by their very
designation as 'women', then let that be seized and, refashioned,
set to work. Even their alleged 'conformation of mind', in Harriet
Taylor's phrase, might be usefully deployed at one level. while it
was denied at others. Certainly, all this was an effect, rather than a
strategy. And all of this was heavily dependent on the formulation
of the new sphere of 'the social' .
.. .. ..
Both this 'social' and ~women' lean forward, as concepts, into a
future which is believed to sustain them. It is as if 'women', who
have been erroneously or ignorantly represented, might yet,
reconstructed, come into their own. In many later nineteenth and
indeed early twentieth-century addresses on the Woman Ques-
tion, they are caught up not in being, where they are massively
misunderstood, but in becoming. If 'women' can be credited with
having a tense, then it is a future tense. It is true that the trajectory
of 'man' in the nineteenth-century human sciences often winds
him backward to the riddles of his origins, or alternatively, reels
him out towards the double question of his ends, in the senses of
his purposes and his extinction. 7 But nineteenth-century 'women'
do not suffer so much from uncertainty about their teleology - but
rather about their realisation. What might they become; what
might they not become?
The very durability of this imaginative projection of a time for
and of 'women' bears witness to its power. Indeed it echoes
through femihisms today; the Future can stilI be Female. In this
returning nnd visionary narrative, that new space which fully-
L"'d~i:>t:J. W uillt:1I W iii LUHl~ tu uu:upy w ill i.J~ trdH:;iufllleJ by ii U:~U1
to the good. This prospect lent itself to adaptation by socialist
moralities in the nineteenth century. Fourier, for instance, envis-
aged the transition of women towards a full humanity, an ascen-
dant flight which would shed its light on all; Man:: echoed
Fourier's conviction that how any society treated its women was
an index of its real civilisations; Engels repeated the idea of
women as true bearers of the moral future - they inhabited and
aspire under socialism: and Owen looked for the establishment of

that New Moral World in which women would come into their
own. 'Women', for these socialisms; functioned as an anti-

!",o"litivi"lt ~pjritual categolV. in the very decades when new fonns
of positivism developed.
There was nothing innovatory about the conception of women
as improvers. Some Enlightenment theorists had advanced their
own versions of it; Millar'sDrigin of the-Distine~iopt l'f-RiZnks-in 1771
had included 'women' as indices of civilisation, as a kind of social
leaven. 8 Other fonns of installing them in society were more
problematic. Although Quesnay in his Tableau Economique of 1758
had produced a model of class which effa..:ed th~m d~ econvmic.
actors, earlier theories, including Quesnay's own, had not done
so.9·The economic assignation of 'women' continued to be uncer-
tain, but their status as elevating agents was simpler and less
troubling. The development of concepts of class generally per-
petuated the familiar bifurcation of 'women': into 'human', the
aspect which was tractable for theorisation, and into 'different',
the aspect which was notoriously less so.
What did change the concept of 'women' by furnishing it with a
new terrain was not so much class, which multiplied the old am-
biguities as it refurbished them, but 'the social'. This harnessed
the supposedly less ambiguous spiritual capacities of 'women'
to fresh ends. At the same time, it could deal with the tarnished
associations of 'women' by affecting a bland redistribution and
dilution of the sexual onto the familial. Or it could settle the
irresistibly sexualised elements of 'women' onto new categories of
immiseration and delinquency, which then became sociological
problems. This new production of 'the social' offered a magnifi-
cent occasion for the rehabilitation of 'women'. In its very found-
ing conceptions, it was feminised; in its detail, it provided the
chances for some women to enter upon the work of restoring
other, more damaged, women to a newly conceived sphere of
grace.
Auguste Comte went out of his way to emphasise the connec-
tion he saw between his new sociological science and 'women'. In
his A General View of Positivism, of 1858, he was confident that
those who would most readily embrace and profit from his work
would be those vety groups which lacked a stake in maintaining
the status quo:
It is among women, therefore, and among the working classes

that the heartiest supporters of the new doctrine will be found
The Social', 'Women'. Imd Snri(l/ogiraJ Fpmini~m 4"
... Having but little influence in political government. they an
the more likely to appreciate the need Ofl m0r",1 grwPTYl,." .. nt.
the special object of which it will be to protect them against the
oppressive action of the temporal power. It is from the feminine
aspect only that human life, whether individually or collectively
considered, can really be comprehended as a whole. 10
Such largesse of comprehension, Comte believed, stemmed from
~nrilll fpplinv: a c;ubordination

Th:'tt t;'1hnl'"fiiTl:'ttinn nf ;ntpllprt to
which we find directly represented in the womanly type (It
character, whether regarded in its personal or social relations. 11
And indeed, it was the feminist Harriet Martineau who translated

Comte's first course of lectures, as The Positive Philosophy .12
This shining projection of 'women' alights on a newly conceived
space which is deeply caught up in allied peculiarities. The
nineteenth-century 'social' is the reiterated sum of progre8si~e
philanthropies, theories of class, of poverty, of degeneration;
studies of the domestic lives of workers, their housing, hygiene,
morality, mortality; of their exploitation, or their need for protec-
tion, as this bore on their family lives too. It is a blurred ground
between the old public and private, voiced as a field for inteJVen-
tion, love, and reform by socialists, conservatives, radicals, liber-
als, and feminists in their different and conjoined ways. Like the
modem collectivity of 'women', it carries an air of natural good
sense; yet both in their mutual references can be traced to a
complicated post-1790s gestation.
Once the seemingly neutral and vacant backdrop of 'the social'
p1858At& -itHlf for scrutiny, it appears as a lOh'ange phenomenon in
its own right. This is another matter from that familiar question-
ing by today's social historians as to the 'ideological' deployntents
which are carried out in the name of the social. On the contraJy,
~ the authenticity of 'the social' is called into question in itself,
it cannot function as a neutral site upon which progress or reaction
may win the day. Instead we could look critically at what Jelfre}'
Minson has called 'The ideal of the social as a secular greater-
than-that-which-cannot-be-thoughf13 - as a potential earthly
heaven which is open to the play of perpetual transformability
because of its very apartness from the individual who is 'in' it.
The ubiquitous 'social' as the groundswell of the Western world
offers a total geography for comprehension and refonn, 'Women'
and other sociological categories, arrayed in groups, stretch out
'in' this vast space. They are embedded in a new topography,
which does not have a conscious past. 50 they are figures in a
landscape, rather than episodes in a history. Yet the spatiality of
the new 'social' 6f the nineteenth century also resonates with the
grandly anti-positivist 'woman' who antedates all sociology. Many
mysticisms conceive of the feminine, the maternal body, as an
archaic space. The Platonic chora, which is prior to all metaphys~
ics, is, in its endlessness, curiously reminiscent of the new 'social'.·
In the Til11aeus it is
Indefinitely a place, it cannot be destroyed, but provide~ a

ground.for all that can come into heing: itsl;'lf being perceptible.
outside of all sensation, by means of a sort of bastard reasoning;
barely assuming credibility, it is precisely that which makes us
dream when we perceive it, and affirm that all that exists must
be somewhere in a determined place. 14
One of the peculiarities of 'women' in its proximity to 'the

social' is a doubled feminisation. In so far as the concerns of the
social are familial standards - health, education, hygiene, fertility,
demography, chastity and fecundity - and the heart of the family
is inexorably the woman, then the woman is also solidly inside of
that which. has to some degree already been feminised. The 'social'
does not merely admit women to it; something more constructive
than a matter of entry or access is going on; it is as if 'women'
become established as a new kind of sociological collectivity.
'Women' both come under and direct the public gaze in the later
nineteenth century as sociological subjects in a double sense.
Studies of poverty and of family lite, ot 'SOCIal condItlOns', are
from the 1880s to the 1930s frequently explained a::; the ravages of
deprivation on the family whose pivot and heart is 'the working-
class womati', she who may also be represented as its ignorant
saboteur. In France the 'social question' has earlier associations
with militant socia)ism; in Britain it becomes synonymous some-
what later with a broad anxiety about the intimate conditions of
working-class domestic life; nutrition, budgets, household man-
clg~/(u:'nt, mclternal 1II0lb1Jlty, infant nlllrtalily, Lhild neglect,
";age-earning women i:lnd their dependents. This closeness of
. '1wr.ten' and 'the social' is then refined and un,jerwritten bv
philanthropic, feminist and women's labour associations,who

frequently understand themselves, qua women investigators, to
be apt investigators and managers of the plight of the 'working-
class woman'. Women contribute enormously to the studies of
'women'. This observation isn't made to undermine the useful-
ness and seriousness of the often scrupulously detailed work done
in the name of a progressive politics, by the Fabians, for example;
but to emphasise the fact that 'women' became both agents and
objects of reform in unprecedented ,ways with the ascent of the
'social'.
One striking effect of the conceptualising of this 'social' is its
dislocation of the political. The latter takes on an intensified air of
privacy and invulnerability, of 'high politics' associated with
juridical and governmental power in a restricted manner. The
question of poverty, for instance, becomes divorced from politics
and assigned, especially in the work of the French political
economists, to the social sphere. The associations of 'women' with
this sphere accompany a displacement and a permanent erosion of
older distinctions between the 'public' and the 'private'. at the
same time as the constriction of the 'political' is refined. 'Women'
are overwhelmingly sociological and therefore, given these new
definitions, not political entities; indeed the suffrage struggles
grind on in vain during these decades, as emancipation is end-
lessly deferred. Political parties and their adherents develop 'the
social'; feminism follows the same course. The social is in this
sense constructed, rather than being the universal agent which
bathes everything else. The more progressive and humanitarian
the aspirations of politics and philanthropy, the more deter-
minedly and exhaustively 'the social' is shaped, wielded, and
scrutinised in the later nineteenth century. As it alters conceptions
or the terraIn ot pohhcs, It becomes a subdued key to the nature or
political theory. As it is engaged with feminism, embracing
women encapsulated 'in' the family, 'in' society, so it simultane-
ously shapes the nature and history of modem feminism .
.. ..
Certain feminist organisations could work with and through the
discourse of 'the social', not to undennine it radically, but k:l make
S01llt.: JiiftJtld.iaiiulL!:J ~.ii..'l;ll .il~ ':'UIUU~~illt:..':'''', 'Ht~ ~u ~ty, ~~4L..~~:), ~v
reinsert its political implicatic"l!' Their efforts might labour
against ilccepted wisdoms to dernl)n"triltt' the innocence' of the
'working-class mother' from the fecklessness with which sh~ was

publicly char~ed; to lav bare the real orecariousness and
monotony of life on 'round about a pound a week' or to expose the
sufferings of those women in childbirth and childrearing. The
Fabian Women's Group carried out the most elaborate surveys to
argue for the needs of working-class women; the Women's Co-
operative Guild publicised loss and deprivation as well as solidar·
ity .15 A whole train of liberal and socialistic investigations begun
in the 1890s continued with renewed energy in the post-war
period, l'einforu~d by inno\lations in sociology. IQ The celebrated
closeness between liberalism and SOciology has received critical
attention from historians, yet the oddities of the whole rise cjf 'the
social', into which women-in-the-family are so knitted,· have
largely escaped unnoticed. It's as if 'women' comprise a school of
natural objects for this 'social'.
Indeed the British organisation for the promotion of a then
embryonic sociology, the National Association for the Promotion
of Social Science, prided itself on its capabilities to enfold both
working men and women. Its Transactions describe its 1858 second
annual general meeting where 'the policy and management of
Trades Unions were debated with the assistance of several work-
ing men',n culminating in a public meeting at Queen's College.
Here there was
a great gathering of some thousands of working men and

women in the amphitheatre, in which the leading members of
the Association and several artisan~ took part 18
Such phenomena were evidence, to the National Association, of
a daily increase of sympathy and support from all quarters. The

papers contributed by working men to the Liverpool meeting
give a fair promise of adherence from a class whom the Associa-
tion has endeavoured, from the commencement, to enlist in its
rank ... the number of the gentler sex among our list of authors
is one sign among others that women are beginning to exercise a
more active influence for social improvement. 19
These authors included some luminaries who were hardly at the

beginning of their philanthropic careers: Mary Carpenter, writing
on Ragged Schools; Louisa Twining on Workhouse Visiting
Societies; Mary Ann Baines on the Ladies National Association lor
the Diffusion of Samtary Knowledge; alld FhJ!'cJI\:': Ni~hli...g.ut': VII
the construction of hospitals, with her own architectural plans for
improvements. Was there, indeed, some of them wondered, a
special contribution of 'women' to such fields? Louisa Twining
was prepared to widen the net further:
Kind hearted people there may have been here and there. but no
systematic efforts have yet been madf'. as they might be. to
r~~IL.~ll-. ~.·v~-~-. ~~;.!! !~-.:. -:.; ~~r!!-~'; v! .:!~b;:.d~~:'c:"'. ~~,,: =~, :!'-~=
sinful, and the outcast of our parish work-houses. Such a work
remains for us to do, and though we have called it essentially
one for women to enter upon, we would not by any meaos limit
it to them, but earnestly invite the co-operation of all who have
the time to devote to it. 20
Mary Ann Baines, on the other hand, was convinced of the

unique1y didactic powers of educated women to raise the moral
condition of the working classes by means of improveJDents in
hygiene; an effect 'brought about through the natural relation that
exists between the physical state and the moral condition'. 21
Special teaching institutions might, she thought, be established to
instruct schoolmistresses and pupil teachers 'belonging to any
schools for the working classes'. Here child managemerd might
flourish with few holds barred to the imperative of sound experi-
ment: 'In order to make this part of the instruction tha.oughly
practical, some orphan infants will be reared in the institutiions.'22
Louisa Twining lectured on workhouse refonn under th~ banner
of the National Association for the Promotion of Social Science;
social' -science congresses throughout the 1B60s returned to the
theme of young women in workhouses. Women philantlwopists,
making a slow transition to their later status as social ~rkers,
acted upon and for women of the working classes Ul'IIIder the
auspices of 'social science'. And where the special inflUl5lces of
woman were not being brought to bear on the impoveriShed of
England, they might be deployed in refonning the Empi~_ Social
Science, the journal of the National Association, carried a letter in
1866 commending Mary Carpenter's interventions here; fo.- she
in her suggestions to the Governor General of India, and in her

address at the Chambers of the Social Science Associatilon, has
shown the vast field for noble work which lies open to English-
women in the needs of our Indian Empire. As she has so
graphically shown, while the home of the Hindoo continues
what it is, the efforts made to raise him in morals and civilisa-
tion are thrown away, and that on the education of the women
depends the moralisation, as it has been termed, of the whole
race ... The Government of India appears anxious to afford
every aid to f.urthering any well devised scheme for bringing
intelligent Englishwomen to help in raising the moral standard
of the Hindoo female, and this plan, while carrying out the
Government principle of non-interferencE' in the religions of th",
nations, appears one of the most likely to be successful. 23
So social science might formalise the elevation of 'women';

WOmen of one degree would act upon women of a lower class, or .of
a different race, with a consequent moralisation of all. The hopes
of philanthrophy were thus swept up and systematised. But this
virtuous apartheid of 'women' only extended its terrain as the
realms of the 'social' became more professionally described and
demarcated. Did not this very formalisation of the goodness of
'women' to draw other and less blessed 'women' into a grand
collectivity do something to ease, for instance, the suffrage argu-
ments into acceptability? Could philanthropy not slip towards
emancipation through the portals of social science?
One writer in Blackwood's Magazine, at least, feared that this
might be so. Describing the 1861 social science congress in Dub-
lin, he satirised the pretensions of sociology towards politics that
he detected there:
We believe we are called upon to discuss not privileges but

'rights'. for 'social science'. we understand. takes as one ot its
bases the equal rights of women side by side with man ... It is
evident that we are entering on a new epoch in the world's
history, a"nd it will, we are sure, be to the lasting glory of the
'National Association' that in the great temple of the social
science niches have been provided for the ladies. 24
At Dublin, however, the spectre of female speakers was a little

assuaged, tor women proved themselves sumewhat unfit j')l
c;fdtOf',-. in lht: ::,implt: incapacity of making themselves head'. The
.v-.-i!f'l" rift''''' qrcionic ('nmtort from the limIts of the ne\-..· sociol
ogy's mfluence:
And we rejoice to think that thousands and tens of thousands of
such women may still be found, who have not given an ear to
social science or political philosophy. Yet we cannot, as we have
said, but feel that our notions on these subjects are every day
growing more out of date. 2S
Certainly Social Science published the writings of Mrs Bodichon

and Emily Davies on suffrage and education. In 1866 the journal
reproduced two franchise petitions to the House of Commons for
limited suffrage 'to unmarried women and widows on the same
conditions on which it is, or may be, granted to men'.26 But the
degree of intimacy between the National Association for the
Promotion of Social Science and the suffrage lobby can't really be
characterised as a simple advocacy of women's rights. How
'women' might become candidates for translation from the social
to the political sphere depended not only on how 'women' were
conceived, but on how the understandings of those spheres them-
selves were altered. Their mutual dislocations produced a distinc-
tively modern feminism. In this, a militant use of the collectivity
'women', which had hardly been possible under a sexualised
conception, became more plausible once the 'social' had produced
a proper field on which female goodness could be exercised. The
new senses of 'women' allowed their candidacy tor humanity new
assault routes upon it. The older democratic appeal for equality,
based on the idea of 'rights', had cut less ice: it remained to be
seen how successful the newer appeals might prove.
If the eighteenth century had left the category of 'women' in need

of some vast renovation, then certainly the Idea of t:itizenship
could lend itself to many broadly progressive and sanitary adapta-
tions of 'women'. Fabian thought especially seized on citizenship
as a form of political responsibility. 'The community' became an
imminently political terrain of women, a necessary funnel to
socialism, and a place for education. Mabel Atkinson, a member of
the Fabian Women's Group, wrote in 1914:
it becomes clear that the only path to the ultimate and most deep
iying ends ul [ne IemlIllst movement IS tnrougn soclallsm, and
every wise feminist will find herself more cll1d morc compelled
to adopt the principles of Socialism. But the wise socialists must
also be feminists. The public spirit of willingness to serve the
56 'Am J That Name 7 '
community which will be necessary if the Socialist principles

are to work must 1:-1" ;'1r:"' 11ot,.d ;!1tC' -:hHd!"-e!'. £!"0T. ~!'-.~!!" earliest
days. Can they be so inculcated by women who know nothing
of the activities of the world beyond the four walls of their
homes? Women, too, must be citizens and fully conscious of the
privileges and duties of their citizenship if socialism is to be
attained. Not least among the duties of that citizenship should
be what Plato long ago demanded of his women guardians, that
they should bear children for the service of the State. 27
The companion of this managerial socialism, which to modem

ears has sonorously fascistic and Stalinistic resonances, was a
theory of the degradation of the working-class family through the
ravages of capitalist inhumanity. The fascination of Fabians and
other progressives, socialists, radicals, and liberals, with the
worsening defonnations of the family were not overspills from
humanitarian charity alone; they derived from analyses of history
by thinkers as diverse as Ruskin, Morris, Mane and Engels. For
Fabianism, a rational feminisation of the social sphere might
restore much of what had been lost to the working-class family. So
it was not only managerial, but was fired too by a nostalgic and
restitutive impulse. At this broad point, not only Chartist and
marxist but also Tory and 'country' critiques of the distorting
savagery of capital towards the natural affections had long been
able to conjoin.
Women in the working-class family were solidly buried in the
sphere of reform and episodically examined there by socialistic
discourses. In the unfolding of late-nineteenth-century socialist
concern as it described the immiseration of the proletariat, the
demarcation of the wrongs endured by women was sharp. Yet
depictions of resistance to immiseration from the 1830s and 1840s
onward remained roughly masculine. Understandings about
'women' had a life of their own which preceded their importation
into socialist speech, and produced tensions of relocation there.
Arguments on behalf of 'the working-class woman' did not neces-
sarily rely on any tradition of class language. Those long intense
campaigns to ease her lot, waged in the 1920s and 1930s by the
Women's Co-operative Guild, drew more on the inheritance of the
first Fabians' formulations about need than on a distinctively and
self-consciously class-based rhetoric. There is freg uently some
noticeable independence between a socialist feminism diction
'TIJe Social', 'Women', and Sociological Feminism 5?
about working women, and class langud~~ 'in ~ene141'. it is nol

that we see an Adam's Rib state of affairs, whereby the WCIIIllan is
drawn directly out of the class description to be exposed to
socialist analytic view. As elaborate as the foonations of 'the
working class' itself, the formations of 'the working womalll' pal>s
through other channels. If the concept of class has its sociological
elements, so does its female counterpart, but her affinities w-ith the
social are differently aligned. 'The working-class womam' is a
strange hybrid. How she stood in relation to both feminism and
{o!,cepts of class became more obscurt2 as sodolvgy an.:! sucial
pollcy aner tne hrst WOrlU War t>ecame oltterently concewttrateu
upon her.
In debates about public housing, that great dream of post-war
reconstruction, 'working-class women' were in no way me..ely the
female section of their class. As 'women', their femininity £illed a
distinctive space; it overflooded 'class'. When the housing needs
of workers after 1918 were argued, it was on behalf of a body of
fighting men who had returned home, to whom a just reward was
due from an indebted nation. Shame would ensue if the 8111enuine
need of this working class were to be neglected, while any ftickers
of insurrectionism would be doused by its satisfactio.... But
'working-class women' entered the housing debates not .,nly as
somewhat tarnished domestic angels, but also as the points where
'society' could best endeavour to meet the threatening and
threatened class in its intimate form. At the same time, the lacks in
'the social' could be refooned: hence the inclusion of meIDbers of
the Women's Labour LE'agup and othli"r women's organisations in
the drafting of municipal housing specifications and the minutiae
of progressive domestic architecture prescribed in the Tuoor WaI-
ters report of 1918. 28
--The 'special contribution' of the experienced woman's gaze into
and out of the social was solicited for post-war planning_ While
the survival of feminism as such after 1918 was attacked as crudely
and lamentably partisan, as ,tn archaic imlividualism f~ a sex
which failed to understand its duty to the common deIDOCratic
good, 'women' infused their special areas. The internal an-ange-
ments of the home, the efficacy of the kitchen, the woman htousing
manager, and the woman writer on policy, all contribwrted to
suggest that housing became for a while virtually 'a wmman's
subject'. This happened to an extent which outran the rati~alisa
tion that the home was where most women's days were, after all,
spent. The metaphor of the woman in' the home as a 'worker',
albeit unpaid, was useful for the women's labour organisations to
tl)' to bargain from; but, recuperable for conservative uses too, it
would run aground in the wake of invocations of 'the mother'
between the wars.
Social policy focused more and more on 'the mother' as it
concentrated on the family; she became more aecountable for the
adequate socialisation of her children and the prevention'.of mal-
nourishment or !;ielinquency. In the 19305 the uneIllployed
working-class man was seen as emasculated within his family. But
the woman as a mother was understood not to be in a relationship
but to be pursuing an occupation. The battle for women's organ-
isations then b~came the exoneration of 'the working-class
mother' from charges of fecklessness. She had to be moral, had to
shine to avoid the charges of ignorance and bad budgeting level-
led at her. In the 1920s Marion Phillips, on the executive of the
women's section of the Labour Party, had spoken of the need 'to
bring the mother spirit into politics'; to feminise the p~blic sphere
thus is a recurrent ambition, but one capable of being voiced from
many political positions. 'The· working-class mother' could be
embedded in the most stultifying discourses, as pro-natalist
rhetoric in Britain after 1939 made dear. The needs of mothers
hardened into timelessly frozen properties of maternity as exem-
plified in the housewife-mother figure, while the existence of the
woman in paid work who was also a mother was inadmissible. 29
Notions of 'apathy', a new inter-war vice catalogued by British
sociological observers, also charted a course from the generally
'social' to the specifically reproductive. Its ravages were tracked
across the new municipal housing estates, and in the electoral and
rhildhearinl!: shortcomings of the workin~ class noted by amateur
and professional sociologistco A P~tl'i.yW<lntrFi "tEtffnral to properly
inhabit or to be the social. By the 194Us it had narrowed to the
alleged 'defeatism' of the working-class couple who showed little
eagerness t~ have the demographically desirable and socially
responsible number of children. In such ways the shapeless ter-
ritories of 'the social' expected allegiance from its inhabitants,
although it was a homeland they had never chosen. In the British
social-democratic and Fabian di.ction, its variant, 'the commun-
ity', was by the time of the Second World War firmly established
<IS an ideal.<;ite of civic responsibility, of rational maternity, of full
waged labour, and hence of .~ promicot' of sE'n"ihlp familialism. Its

, The Social', 'Women', and Sociological Feminism 59
th.;eat was the 'problem family' studied in the 1930s; the experi-
ment of Asterdorp, the ghetto for the rehabilitation of 'delinquent'
fa~ilies outside Amsterdam, .attracted the keen interest of some
British observers. The concerns of the 'social question' of the mid
nineteenth century, the question of misery and poverty, had been
more tightly specified: its gaze on the family as a site of social
pathology fell on a woman; a mother who was the secret of its
public failure. As Alva Myr~al wrote tersely in her Nation and
Family, a social-democratic ii~dtess to demographic issues: 'The
female sex is a social problem.'30
.... . .
Inter-war sociologies overshadowed and influenced a feminism
which was noticeably tom between asserting the identity of
'women' in insisting on their differences from men, and an
egalitarian emphasis, which defused difference to seek parity. The
term 'feminism' itself, immediately after the First World War, and
the granting of the partial women's suffrage, came to denote a
narrowness, an anti-democratic or frankly bourgeois cast of mind,
and an ungenerous rehearsal of old grievances which should have
been decently laid to rest. Most damagingly, it came to be seen as a
selfish antithesis to 'the social'. Certainly egalitarian and Fabian
feminism exerted itself to demonstrate that on the contrary the I
good of the social was its dearest concern. Nevertheless, these

attempts to associate the emancipation of sex with the achieve-
ment of the ideal of citizenship and the democratised community
were largely doomed. All feminisms were tarred with the same
brush: they were an individualism-for-a-sex, and as such at odds
with the advancement of the social whole. 'Sex-consciousness' and
'sex-antagonism' were deeply pejorative terms in 1918, and
Ut!l:dUlt: su agaill in a st!l:unu wavt! uf l\:~vulsion ill 1945 dl iitt:
threatened resurrection of feminism. To look for comradeship
between the sexes at the end of both wars seemed to be more
honourable, and lively, than to nurse the corpse of old sexual
battles; the vote had after all been won, and there were channels
for discussing grievances. Feminism found itself in disgrace,
while the franchise did not succeed in ushering in the finished
democracy of the sexes, or even an amiable pulsation of different
:i1tercst::;.
The ~trains for feminism in constantly addressing 'women' are
most Intense when there has bl"en some transition, but an
60 'AmI That Name?'
unfinished one: when 'humanity' stays ubstinately impenneablE',
despite its ostensible democratisation. When disaffected women
voters Issue orgamsed complaints, they may well be reproached
precisely for their obduracy in remaining 'women'. So in Britain
after 1918 and after 1928 when the universal franchise was
obtained, and again after 1939, similar cries were heard; hadn't
enfranchisement done away with the need for women to dwell so
tediously upon their sex? The militant suffrage campaigns had also
produced some revulsjon among even the most sympathetic
observers; the reiter~tion of 'women, women', be'came unbear-
<lU~o::. 71 ..:: ~i.Ut:ld; ;\cruiJlt: ui May 5iIll:iail:S i ;'11:: J re~ DJ ruaverL.
published in 1917, longed for the vote - but she could not endure
the mass meetings:
For Dorothy was afraid of the Feminist Vortex, as her brother

Michael had been afraid of the little vortex of school. She was
afraid of the herded women. She disliked the excited faces, and
the high voices skirling their battle cTies. and the silly business
of committees, and the platform slang. She was sick and shy
before the tremor and the surge of collective soul, the swaying
and heaving and rushing forward of the many as one. She
would not be carried away by it; she would keep the clearness
and hardness of her soul. 31
Such an antipathy towards mass emotion, one of the many

legacies of the First World War, could be devastating for the
standing of militant feminism, especially where this was
Identified with a backward 'sexual antagonism'.
There was a consensus in the inter-war years that the older
generation of feminists bored and irritated younger women. For it
could not, it seemed, acknowledge the depths of men's sufferings,
have the grace to fall silent on 'women', and instead espouse
humanism. The First World War, that Calvary of men, was a
sacrifice so vast that to press a nagging 'sex-consciousness' was
shaming. The hero of Richard Aldington's Death of a Hero
reflected whether 'the war had induced in me a peculiar resent-
ment against women'.n The spectacle of 'women' still demanding
rights could be seen as cheaply partisan failures of generosity. As
Virginia Woolf characterised it in Three Guineas, 'feminism' had
become irretrievably tarnished and redundant:
What more fitting than to destroy an old word, a vicious and

corrupt word that has done In.. -LH.::h hann In its oay and IS now
obsolete? The word 'feminist' i s the word indicated. That word,
according to the dictionary, means 'one who champions the
rights of women'. Since the only right, the right to earn a living,
has been won, the word no longer has a meaning. And a word
without a meaning is a dead """ord, a corrupt ·word . . . . The
word 'feminist' is destroyed: the air is cleared; and in that
clearer air what do we see? Men ann Wnmpn 'Working together
fnr thp ~"TT1P r"lI~p JJ
And this, she continued, was really what the nineteenth-century

feminisms had also been about:
'Our claim was no claim for "",,omen's rights only'; - it is

Josephine Butler who speaks - "i t was larger and deeper; it was a
claim for the rights of all- all IYl.en and women - to the respect in
their persons that of the great principles of Justice and Equahty
and Liberty.'J4
But an egalitarian feminism hung on to that name. The many

small groups which were united under the National Union of
Societies for Equal Citizenship, as well as more prominent cam-
paigning organisations like the the Six Point Group, continued to
press for legal, employment, and educational parity. In 1924,
Winifred Holtby drew a distinction between these 'old feminists'
and the 'new' variety. The latter stressed not equality, but the
'women's point of view';
-FerbOnally, I am a feminist, and an Old Feminist, because 1

dislike everything that feminism implies. I desire an end of the
whole business, the demands for equality, the suggestions of
sex warfare, the very name of feminist. I want to be about the
work in which my real interests lie, the study of inter-race
relationships, the writing of novels, and so forth. But while the
inequality exists, while injustice is done and opportunity
denied to the great majority of women, I shall have to be a
feminist, and an Old Feminist, V\Tith the motto Equality First.J5
In a similar spirit, the Six Point Group published'a pamphlet in

1927 with the defensive title of 'Why Feminism Lives'. In it, Vera
Brittain put its endurance down to 'the incompleteness of the
English franchise [which] represents but one symbol among many
others of the incomplete recognition of women as human
beings' ,36 For they stiJI remained 'vaguely sub-human'; and it was
this that drove on the seemingly anachronistic feminist, even
against her inclinations:
The fight for acknowledgement now bores rather than :enthralls

her; its postponement seems illogical, an anachronism, Cl waste
of precious time. Her goal is the work of citizenship which
awaits her d& soon as she i!. allowed to fllay her full part in the
making of civilisation; she continues to agitate, often a little
wearily, only because she desires to abolish the need for agita-
tion. 37
To substitute the apparently more ethical longing to join humanity

for sex-glorification - a vice comparable with class-glorification -
was, however, a frustrating task. For, Vera Brittain explained,
humanity is not a concrete, attainable qualification; it is an

abstract idea. As such it is hard to transform into a slogan, and it
has an academic flavour that renders it anathema to the present
day youngest women, with their horror of anything that sounds
heavy or 'pious', and their self-conscious individualism which
regards self-scrificing devotion to any cause as 'pre-war' or
'demo de' . 38
The impasse for feminism was acute in the 1920s and 1930s. It
could not just repeat the charges issued by the ~old feminism'; nor
I"nuld it "'imply di"'l"llO::<: th .. rn<:itinn nf ""'"... •.,. "" rl:o"c: ,..,.,p""l-. .. ,.c
with 'special needs'. The result was a nelVOUS hesitation. between
'equality' and 'difference', or a search for the fragile median
position which saw women as 'different but equal'. Women's
labour organisations, some of whose members were antipathetic
to the very name of feminism, pressed for better maternity care
and obstetric provision. Long campaigns for family allowances,
the 'endowment of motherhood', were vigorously pursued by the
Women's Co-operative Guild; through the 1920s there was, within
the Labour Party, a irequently frustrated struggle to make con-
~r;l(,f'rtiVf' l<nowkdgc ClvaIlable to all. Bllt thE' assertions of the
needs of \'1Oll1€n in tl'le famil) welT ildblte tu t>t' "'dPtur~d by
arguments about the natural propensities of wome~ as mothers.
Anyone might single out 'women' to pronounce upon. With
alarm, Winifred Holtby quoted Oswald Mosley in his The Greater
Britain. One of the longings of the British Union of Fascists, he had
said, was for 'men who are men, and women who are women' .39
By 1934 things had become all too clear in Europe. Winifred
Holtby commented:
Today, whenever women .he;:lr political leaders call their sex

important, they grow suspicious. In the importance of the sex
too often has laid the unimportance of the citizen, the worker
and the human being. 4o
The social-democratic citizen, urged in the Fabian literature of

the late 1930s to sharpen her civic consciousness by pursuing her
reproductive and maternal duty to the community, was hardly an
enticing figure. On the other hand, the woman worker, as the
course of the Second World War made plain, was understood to be
either girlish or nothing. A general solidarity of 'women' was an
impossibility, given the common revulsion towards 'sex-
glorification' and given class differences. Indeed, a curious litera-
ture of women lamenting the loss of women domestic servants had
appeared at the end of the First World War. Writings on the
servant problem were devoted to the niceties of recruiting girls, of
rearranging the house sO that the awkwardness of humping the
coals would be eased; or if the worst should come to the worst, of
adjusting to daily service instead of having live-in help; titles like
The Labour Saving House 41 abounded. Class divisions continued to
ring through that socialist feminism of the 1920s and 1930s which,
in order to combine work and maternity, relied on the background
presences of the nurse, the maid, and tne huust!k~~L Th~
writings of Naomi Mitchison and Dora Russell embodied this in
their spirited demands that love and socialism should accompany
each other, that 'new' feminists should be able to have both
children and other occupations than the domestic. 42
Theirs was a practical solution availa ble to few, as they knew.
At the level of theory, sexual difference remained an intractable
conundrum. The famous 'five hundred pounds' and 'a room of
one's own wa~ propu~~J uy \"~J.oiJ.L~"" ~·.'v..:.!~ ::-. ~o:!~ .. ~ _,.r; ..... ~ c01i~
basis for intellectual liberation Wnmel".'S economic independence
- f'Vf'n thE' indcpendef'.ce of somf' - would she held, allow the
64 'Am J That Name?'
incandescent and unimpeded mind to leap onward, since all the
grievances, preachings, and longing .. for r"""'!".ge WD'.lld have
oeen 'tired out' of it. Nevertheless, she expressed a somewhat
inconsistent longing for that life and colour which, she believed,
'differences' could bestow:
It would be a thousand pities if women wrote like men, or lived

like men, or looked like men, for if two sexes are quite inad-
equate, considering the vastness and variety of the world, how
should we manage with onp nnly? (lugr..t not .;:j ... " ... l~vJl tu vflng
out and fortify the differences rather than the similarities? For
we have too much likeness as it is. 43
And yet the hateful 'sex-antagonism' could not afford a route for
the development of a desirably sexed style. Contemplating an
imaginary woman novelist, Virginia Woolf described her as hav-
ing achieved such a style by careful evasion of any systematic and
prior concentration on her gender:
She wrote as a woman, so that her pages were full of that curious
sexual quality which comes only when sex is unconscious of
itself.44
But any 'sex-consciousness' would destroy this fluidity utterly, for

it would falsely bifurcate the mind:
And if it be true that it is one of the tokens of the fully developed

mind that it does not think specially or separately of sex, how
much harder it is to attain that condition now than ever before
... No age can ever have been as stridently sex-conscious as our
own; those innumerable books by men about women in the
British Museum are a proof of it.45
Contemplating the. 'sense of unmitigated masculinity' which she

could see growing in Rome, hand in glove with nationalism, she
conceived this too as a proof of the same weary vice: 'All who have
brought about a state of sex-consciousness are to blame ... All
seducers and reformers are responsible.'46 This is why it was 'fatal
for anyone who writes to think of their sex', and why
'The Social', 'Women', and SociologIcal Feminism 65
It>> fatalfor a woman to lay the least stress un any g(ievanCe, h)
~ even with justice any cause; in any way to speak con-
I.iously as a woman. 47
Jbt..tbe world could not, in truth, be divided into sexual camps.

iJrOUlen must face the fact that 'we go alone and that our
... ~ is to the world of reality and not only to the world of men
_.~men'.4l! •
Nefthinking is vividly torn. Both here inA Room of One's Own,
- . in .lh.rt:e G1.1 in el.l:; , published a decade later, she was fully
.,...re ot socIal injustIce tounaea on St:)l.Udl Ul\l13.iUll".Y~l 3eA-
mnsciousness was an impediment to change, she maintained; it
dautped down the wrong limits, it distorted. Could there perhaps
be. smne better feminist thinking which bypassed the partiali ty,
~ aggrieved tones, the taking of 'sides' against which she had
iflVeighed in both books? In A Room of One's Own she mused
ItIOa4Jhe Coleridgean androgynous mind, but without seizing
upon the conception; 'Why do I feel that there are severances and
~tions in the mind, as there are strains from obvious cause.!>
In the body?'49
~ was another expression of the dilemma of modem femin-
'til'nasain; the impossibility of moving out from the recuperable
"iterations of 'women' to the fullness of an un sexed humanity,
~thout either getting stuck in the collectivity, or bypassing it
.;:ompletely. Feminism between the world wars was in a
ll.oroughly uneasy state, its very name uncertain at best and any
PhIlOsophical basis seemingly impossible to formulate and sus-
t:Hn. In the 1940s Simone de Beauvoir described the route for
women's emancipation as 'moving from immanence to transcen-
tmftte'.50 Here she echoed Hegel on the need to move out of
itnrnerSion in the details of the private life for the attainment of a
true consciousness of self in the world. Yet how could this passage
be ever made, if women were by definition the not-(yet)-human?
Andhow could feminism, which !ipo~e 'women', be the lever for
this transition? The fact that 'women' and 'the social' had been so
thoroughly folded into each other and rolled up together, had
produced impossible consequences for modern feminism as a
political philosophy. It could not but be incoherent, uncertain of
what best to do with this unwieldy inheritance. To embrace and
use it, to agitate for better social conditions for working-class
women had tremendous tactical strengths, could forge useful
alliances, and did produce real gains. Yet given that the very word
'women' was imbued in all political languages with domesticity in
a broad sense, with a limiting notion of sociality - then this
'women' was also horribly circumscribed. That a heavy emphasis
on the gender could be vulnerable to the most reactionary capture
was made appallingly clear during the 1930s in Italy and in
Germany. Meanwhile the irritations so strikingly repeated in the
1920s and 1930s - tl'l.e vexations of women and men with feminism
for representing the unimaginative spirit of an anti-democratic
and redundant sex-consciousness - meant that 'women' could
seem a dubiousrattytng~point even for progressive use.
To some degree, the difficulties were diluted in practice, in that
'feminism' as a term kept its older associations with well-off and
often childless women, while labour and working women's organ-
isations could be seen to deal with the 'real needs' of mothers and
children. Yet this was an unsatisfactory compromise, incapable of
steering thruugh the deep uncertainties posed by the collective
'women' for feminism. For 'women' could not reside truthfully
and contentedly within their differences as a sealed sociological
group; but nor could they escape them to meld into humanity, If,
to adapt Mary Wollstonecraft, the social should not overwhelm the
human character,51 then neither, to paraphrase Madame de Stael,
could women succeed in leaving the ranks of nature to join the
order of society. For if woman's entanglement in Nature had held
her apart from Humanity, so did her newer entanglement in 'the
social', since the latter was constructed so as to dislocate the
political. 52 This second form of apartheid in the feminised 'social',
however, was never more finished and absolute than the first
assignation to the 'natural' had been. By no means did the
allegedly natural dispositions of 'women' go into retreat once they
emerged In the mneteenth eenttl~aS9Oetttlogtee~ sUbJects. Un thE'
contrary, the 'natural' and the 'social' woman, now reinterpreted
as willing inhabitants of the separate sphere, could vie with each
other to make entry to the generally human fraught with further
difficulty. The crucible here was the long battle for the suffrage.
4
The Womanly Vote
Fellow Countrywomen-
We call upon you to join us and help our fathers,
husbands and brothers, to free themselves and us from
political, physical and mental bondage ...
We have been told that the province of woman is her
home, and that the field of politics should be left to
men; this we deny ...
(Address of the Female Political Union of Newcastle
to their Fellow Countrywomen,
Northern Star, 2 February 1839)
Woman runs a zigzag path between the feminine and
the human.
(Lou Andreas-Salome, 1899)
The history of women's suffrage gives rise to the less than celeb-
ratory reflection that categories often achieve their desired ends by
subdued routes - not gloriously and triumphantly, as if at the end
of an exhaustive, rewarded struggle to speak themselves, but
almost as by-products in the interstices of other disco\USeS. The
initial demand for representation may be raised, too, in some
newly articulated gap between Humanity and Man, as the women
Republicans raised it in France; or in the less starkly delineated
gulfs between propertied voteless women and propertied voting
men which set the course of the nineteenth-century a~itations in
Britain The advancement of 'women' must always take' it"$ tone
from the differing backgrounds out of which their candidacy is to
be prised; it is never possible for 'women' to be amassed as
completely un shadowed subjects.
Nineteenth-century women, supposedly embodying the
benevolent truth of the social, could only present themselves as
potential electors by breaking out of the old massifications, and
departing, for instance, from the radical 'associationisIIl' of the
1830s which had sought unIversal manhood suttrage. At sucn
moment~ the ~uffrage claim take~ 011 the IGok of being the narrov.
i1d\'o<:a(.")' uf cl grc.'uF inten~~t, ;tl\ !-'1,l i v;·.IIli\l!.St n -(.:,r-:}-!":o:;'>' It mnsl
67
68 '4'171 That Name?'
insist on attentlon to women, and yet challenge what it takes to
be !~;.J.F~ rc;:::~:. ::. . :.:.:.~c.:~..:c.:.. ..;~~ '~•. ~ .Ji~~~~.' -,_ !',~~!~ .;~r:"'5 !lv.~1 .3t!xuaI
conservatism. Here it shares the problem which vexes contempor-
ary feminism. The latter, in undercutting bad usages of 'women',
may nevertheless behave as if there is a true and apt level of
feminisation to which it, feminism, has unique access by virtue of
its scrupulous commitment to women and their needs. It claims
the authority to speak for 'women's experience', and ·it may take
this category to be self-evidently true and originary. But how ,
thpn. ilrp thp ~111f., nptwPPT1 thp "!rtJ'.l1 'lT1ti th". ",ttrihl~t~~ ,,:,::,~c:l;
tions of 'women' to be characterised; how can feminist analysis, in

speaking for what it holds to be the real, keep clear of the
disfigurements of the rest of the world's opinions?
If the perennial impasse is put in this manner, it's insoluble.
The winding course of later nineteenth and twentieth-century
British feminisms is strewn with its skinnishes with what we
could call over-feminisation, as well as under-feminisation. For
often, feminists have had to speak in the same breath in and out of
the category of 'women', with exhausting results. The drive
towards political representation exposes the fluctuations of
'women', philosophically as well as strategically. So the first great
obstacle of a question, How can women ever ascend into person-
hood and become voting citizens too, given their systematic
exclusion from 'humanity'? is followed by successive problems:
How, once enfranchised, can women make claims for their 'special
needs' without losing the ground of generality that they have
gained? As always, 'women' are illuminated in certain lights in
advance; are already in some alliance with other political and
philosophical languages which colour them. That is, feminism
never has the option of putting forward its own uncontaminated,
self-generated understandings of 'women'; its 'women' too, is
always thoroughly implicated in the discursive world.
This is particularly clear in the histories of suffrage campaigns,
which must speak out for the rights of 'women' , while the associa-
tions of 'women' alone debar them from being seriously received
by legislators. At the same time, a peculiar transience is in play,
for when 'women' are named by their protagonists as those who
are excluded, this platform must aim at its own dissolution - the
melting-back of women into the order of humanity by means of
the franchise. Yet 'women' by definition cannot become 'citizens',
cannot leave the baggage of their sex behind. So aspirants to the
The Womanly Vote 69
vote must during certain phases of their campaigns turn against
the category of women, challenge its orthodox attributes in rewrit-
ing and minimising its ostensible significance, because it end-
lessly pins them down outside the general 'humanity' they must
pet\etrate. Now 'women' becomes the standard of a restrictive
association, and 'citizenship' is a glory to which women must aim,
as in Olympe de Gouges' 1791 Declaration of the Rights of Woman.
Then later, even centuries later, once the elusive cifu:enship has
been nominally won through the suffrage, it appears instead as an
iP.jfici~lly neutr~l lilnbu oUl of which the once-abandoned
!lpeclhclty ot women must re-emerge to seeK as own neeas In the
mime of mothers, of women workers, or of another overlooked
grouping. Post-suffrage feminisms continue the spasmodic oscil-
lations between 'equality' and 'difference(s)' as they must; they
cannot but echo and multiply the radical uncertainties of 'women'
as it inches towards 'humanity' but never decisively arrives there .
.. ..
Earlier attempts to propose women's candidacy for political rights
foundered. One submission for the original draft of the Chartist
petition in 1838 had included women in its plea for the t"xtension
of the franchise, under the shelter of universal suffrage. But their
inclusion could not be covert enough so as to spare embarrassment
to the cause; the risk that it might reduce the plausibility of
universal manhood suffrage. It was abandoned. Disgrace
enveloped French Republican women's battles to secure represen-
tation in the early 17905. Olympe de Gouges, before she met her
desolate end, had based her plea for rights on the equality of
women's virtue; the efforts of those who, from different positions,
had ar~ued for the special social-surveillance capacities of Repub-
lican women, were also confounded. 1 Then whatever made the
fight for the vote finally able to be waged consistently over a long
period? Why did nineteenth-century suffragism escape those
earlier truncations and eclipses?
Perhaps an answer lies in the increasing societal busyness of
women and their slow legal advances - so that to some degree, the
monotonous grand identity of 'woman' was being tie facto scat-
tered; that as more possibilities of enunciating 'women' came into
life, the sexualised whole took on an anachronistic ring, just
enough to allow women to be postulated as potential citizens. But
this is, I think, an over-optimistic answer. The multiplications of
'women' cany fresh difficulties as well as advantages: the putative

essence is constantly in tension with the local appearances, and
swamps them from time to time. The collectivity, 'women',
appears in newly broken fonns in the nineteenth century; but
none the less essence and appearance continue to fight for supre-
macy throughout.
If we look closely at some of the Parliamentary debates on
British suffrage, we can see how the category of 'women' was
dismembered on all sides. It was not possible to proclaim their
goodness and their fitness as candidates in any unassailable man~
ner. Not only be€ituse not all women were being advanced ~
voters by the 'proponents of the limited women's suffrage (fot
them, the franchise was to be extended to women with the same
kinds of property-owning and other restrictions which hedged in
the male electorate). But also because 'women' were thoroughly
ensnared in an elaborate set of assumptions already in place; any
political deployment of 'women' had no choice but to build upon,
or try 00 undermine, this inherited foundation. It could I'\ever
voice 'women' afresh. This limit was the lot of suffragist feminism.
The later nineteenth century's fonnal arguments twisted around
a few great supporting poles. These were concerned with the
'natures', the 'interests', and the 'spheres' of women. It is true that
the allocation of women to separate spheres was nothing new. The
properly patriarchal theories of the seventeenth century mirrored
the king's relation to his subjects in the husband's to his wife; the
political philosophy of John Locke depicted the public and civic
world as masculine, against the familial-feminine. The
nineteenth-century suffrage debates, however, saw peculiar
refashionings of this old division. Of course, to know why the
parliamentary enfranchisement of women was so laborious and
, .,! ., 1 1 I 1.' • ......' '·1
.. .:." ... ',Hu, au ... .... "a\ vu,,~u ..;: ... tHC ......::.:. .. ISt: VI l>V IIldlly 1'I.t:iuCln UlIls,
tull stlldie~ ot the wider party-political background, changes in
Liberal and labour opinion, and the effects of the 1914-18 war are
essential. J\Jevertheless, a sense of the tenacious vulnerabilities
and uses of 'women' by all sides is also hugely important for
suffrage history.
The first pole, that of 'women's interests' - the belief that
women are distinct from men in what they want, that they would
.hpp~~,:,ro "~'f' .:'S .~ .1a~~ ~:r '!la.,:::, Jnd ~hat sex hiJstilitr would thus
be forrnalispd - hi\d i1 power which became, if anything, more
~ltlrenched by tht! end ot the nindeer,th i:t:ntury. An early
The Womanly Vote 71
anonymous publication, Women's Rights and Dut~s of 1840, was
confident that
women have no political interests apart from men. The public

measures that are taken, the restrictions or taxes imposed on the
community, do not affect them more than male subjects. In all
such respects the interests of the two sexes are identical. As
citizens, therefore, they are sufficiently represented. already. To
give them the franchise would just double the number of voters,
witl;tout introducing any new interest; and, far from improving
society, few things would tend more to dissever and corrupt it. 2
Then at once the companion assertion followed - that if women

did have special interests in the shape of grievances to be re-
dressed, these could not anyway be remedied by the vote:
Interests of that description, being exclusively female. would

come into collision, not, as in the other cases, with the interests
of a class or party, but with those of the whole male sex, and one
of two things would happen. Either one sex would be arrayed
against one another in a sort of general hostility. or they would
be divided amongst themselves. Than the first, nothing could
possibly be devised more disastrous to the condition of women.
They would be utterly crushed; the old prejudices would be
revived against their education, or their meddling with house-
hold duties. Every man of mature age would probably stipulate,
on marrying, that his wife should forswear the use of the
franchise, and all ideas connected with political influence, or the
coarse and degrading contentions of the elections. J
T~c writer !'link..! Lit ll,L ij"k [lujt u'1IPl!III..:i1Jit:u puiiiiLi<lll:> migili
try to secure 'female parties' to support them over sex-specific
issues, and might succeed in winning the allegiance. by manipula-
tion, of 'the worst pa~ of the sex'. More dangerous still, if women
wanted to vote in a manner 'which was opposed to the interests or
prejudices of their male relations', intimidation or bribery
inflicted by their male kin might only intensify their'timidity and
comparative poverty'. This swaying between apprehensions of an
institl1ti.n...,~\i<;f:'''' <;P¥ ""'h~n ... ;".1C' •.,hiro h ~;t;"'~ "~'." ~::" ~~-=
female franchise. and a domestic sex anta~onism which might set
husband to bullying wife, marked an enormous amount of subse-
quent debate. Most stress fell on the fonner fear. Certainly it was
not confined to the camp of fonnal conservatism - and indeed
liberal anti-suffragists could always argue that the Tory party
would find itself enriched by a new natural constituency of proper-
tied women voters. The Liberal, Captain Maxse, addressed the
Electoral Refonn Conference in 1874 thus:
I hold it to be the duty of men to protect women, and to

represent their interests in Parliament. We shall commit a fatal
error if we set women up in political hostility to men. 4
The continuing assumption was that 'women' would fonn a

united body, and would vote according to a sex-specific point of
view - as if, on all questions, there must always be such a thing.
This assumption was rarely directly challenged by pro-suffragists:
not surprising, given their need to emphasise 'women'. To fight
for the rights and visibility of a group was hardly likely to make
the tactic of deconstructing its mass a pressing one. The suffrage
lecturer, Arabella Shore, restricted her defence against the charge
of sexual antagonism to pointing out that women sought only to
elect male representatives for themselves:
As to the charge of hostility, it amazes me. We ask that we may

help in the choice of men to maintain a masculine Government.
We are not demanding the vote that we may elect women
instead of, and in opposition to men. s
But such an answer could hardly defuse the sex-war charge. The
conservative Beresford Hope, in an 1871 House of Commons
debate, emphasised that 'the womanly nature' already exerted
enough indirect influence on family men who voted - it 'had quite
as much play in making up the national mind as could healthily be
desired'.6 But, he held, if women were enfranchised, a sex-linked
distortion of the electorate would come into being. Once women,
naturally allied to the social sphere, wielded power, a dispropor-
tionate narrowness would ensue:
The character of the legislation of a woman-chosen Parliament

would be the increased importance which would be given to
questions of a quasi social or philanthropic character (viewed
with regard to the supposed interests, or the partisan bias of
Th!' Womanly Votf'
special classes, rather than to broader wosiderations uf the,

public weal) in I?XCE.'5~ ()f thE.' grp.at "'on<:tjtntion::tl "Inti in."'rn",,-
tional issues which the legislature was empanelled to try_ 7
A more dignified and congratulatory conviction of women's

distinctive philanthropic mission allowed the female signatories
to the 1889 An Appeal Against Female Suffrage to write: ..
It is because we are keenly alive to the enormous value of their

special contribution to the community, that we oppose what
seems to us lu<ely to enaanger tnat \.:orHTlOUtlUII. H~ cllt ,--Vil-
vinced that the pursuit of a mere outward equality with men IS
for women not only vain but demoralising. It leads to a total
misconception of woman's true dignity and special mission. It
tends to personal struggle and rivalry, where the only effort of
both the great divisions of the human family should be to
contribute the characteristic labour and the best gifts of each to
the common stock. 8
These signatories were, as contemporary pro-suffragists tartly

pointed out, by and large the wives of great men rather than
women of great distinction in their own right. Although they
included the then Miss Beatrice Potter, she was outflanked by Mrs
t. H. Green, Mrs Leslie Stephen, Mrs Huxley, Mrs Henry Hob-
house, Mrs Matthew Amold and Mrs Amold Toynbee. Their
Appeal summarised the 'considered' anti-suffragism of many
years. It repeated the old assertion that in so far as women
possessed special interests, those could be catered for by the
p.resent arrangements:
ttH-the principal injustices of the law towards women have been

amended by means of the existing constitutional machinery;
and with regard to those that remain, we see no signs of any
unwillingness on the part of Parliament to deal with them. On
the contrary, we remark a growing sensitiveness to the claims of
women, and the rise of a new spirit of justice and sympathy
among men, answering to those advances made by women in
education, and the best kind of social influence, which we have
already noticed and welcomed. 9
They rehearsed the fear of a clash of sex against sex in tenns almost
identical to those of fifty years and more before:
With regard to the business or trade interests of women, - here,

again, we think it safer and wiser to trust to organisation and
self-help on their own part, and to the growth of a better public
opinion among the men workers, than to the exercise of a
political right which may easily bring women into direct and
hasty conflict with men. IO .
And, insisted the women anti-suffragists, again echoing a vener-

able defence, women themselves did not want the franchise:
the mass of those immediately concerned in it are notoriousty

indifferent; there has been no serious and general demand for it,
as is always the case if a grievance is real and refonn neces-
sary.l1
Gladstone in 1892 argued the same point in his letter to Samuel

Smith:
There has never within my knowledge been a case in which the

franchise has been extended to a large body of persons generally
indifferent about receiving it. But here, in addition to a wide-
spread indifference, there is on the part of large numbers of
women who have considered the matter for themselves, the
most positive objection and strong disapprobation. \2
Yet this common objection, that the suffrage was over the heads
of and irrelevant if not decidedly unwelcome to most women, was
never much amplified. In the same way that the pro-suffragists
could hardly embark on a tactical deconstruction of 'women', the
imtis had their reasons for leaving the sanctity of 'women' ell bloc,
by and large, alone. lhIS was nOl, I suspect, m6trtliy uu~ [U dl~
embarrassing fact of the waves of working-class pro-suffrage activ-
ity, which put paid to the claim that all agitators were 'ladies'
alone. It -must also have been determined by the salience of
'women's interests' and their distinctive social role for the anti-
<:uffrage case. If 'women' were to be taken apart and that whole-
ness weakened by the claims of factions among them, much would
have crumbled, too much to be palatable to anti-suffragism.
JuL., ;(Udlt ;viiii, ..arguillg un:>;J.cc.esdull), [or ('kcloral rdeJi17' :n
rl-,e How;e of Comm.ons in 1867, prop()sed a sophistic,1ted retort to
~he olel chargp·
The Womanly Vote 75
We are told, Sir, that women do not wish for the suffrage. If the
fact were so, it would only prove that all women are still under
this deadening influence; that the opiate still benumbs their
mind and conscience. But great numbers of women do desire
the suffrage, and have asked for it by petitions to this House.
How do we know how many more thousands there may be who
. have not asked for what they do not hope to get; or for fear of
what may be thought of them by men, or by other women; or
from the feeling, so sedulously cultivated in them by their
education - aversion to make themselves conspicuous7\J
Still, he ventured, even if women's induced reticence was allowed,

and the vote bestowed, those who didn't want it, wouldn't use it:
either they will not register, or it they do, they will vote - as
their male relatives advise - by which, as the advantage will
probably be about equally shared among all classes, no hann
will be done.l4
In short, it need not be assumed that women would exert a block

vote, behave in concert, or be bullied by unwilling possession of
the franchise into deploying it. So, for MilL the unification of 'the
woman's vote' could be dismembered. At the sam(> time, hp
proposed that enfranchising women who might well behave dis-
similarly, would nevertheless ennoble the category of women as
an abstraction:
Meanwhile an unworthy stigma would be removed from the

whole sex. The law would cease to declare them incapable of
.,erious things; would cease to proclaim that their opinions and
".\-;:;!-.c ... .:;n: ~r;worthr of rcg.:ud, D=-: ~::;:1g::; which concerT'. t~e"""
equally with men, and on many things which concem them.
much more than men ... If only one woman in 20,000 used the
suffrage, to be decla,red capable of it would be a boon to all
women. Even that theoretical enfranchisement would remove a
weight from the expansion of their facilities, the real mischief of
which is much greater than the apparent. 15
P.llf hpr.. 'wnTY'Opn' rptl1,"" "''' '" T'n"~" wh .. <.;p pmilnripation would
make them collectively less narrowed, hemmed-in and trivialised;

once the '::;tigma' of lightheadedness was removed, a true eleviI
tion of all would follow. Here the totality of sex was re-admitted to
thf' argumpnt fM thp. ,!l1ffragp rall~p whilp hpfn ..... H h~Hi hpf'''
challenged to weaken the anti-suffragist case. Tactics had to be
elastic, as were philosophies, in the face of the obdurate apartness
of'women' which determined the whole debate .
. .. ..
Another great pole of argument - from women's 'natures' and the
degree of their distinctiveness - illustrates the same systematic
contortions which beset the notion of their 'interests.' That
women were ineradicably sui generis and hence not plausible
members of an electorate was a devastatingly tenacious supposi-
tion. In 1843 Mrs Hugo Reid set out a circumspect challenge to it:
We do not mean to assert that man and woman are strictly the
same in their nature, or the character of their minds; but simply,
that in the grand characteristics of their nature they are the
same, and that where they differ. it is in the minor features; that
they resemble far more than they differ from each other.16
Yet half a century later, Gladstone echoed the enduring conviction

that, being divinely bestowed, distinctions of sex were radical and
insunnountable:
A pennanent and vast difference of type has been impressed

upon women and men respectively by the Maker of both ... I
for one am not prepared to say which of the two sexes has the
higher and which has the lower province. But I recognize the
subtle and profound character of the differences between them,
and I must again, and again, and again, deliberate before aiding
in the issue of what seems like an invitation by public authority
to the one to renounce as far as possible its own office, in order
to ass ume that of the other .17
If minimising sexual difference was, in the teeth of this well-

entrenched theorem, -a doomed strategy for pro-suffragists, then
there was another tack to try, which many attempted - to admit
difference, but render it irrelevant to the argument. The social
reformer, Frances Power Cobbe, in her 1868 article, 'Criminals,
idiots, women, minors, is the classification sound?', pointed out
that 'equality' had not, historically, been the ground for bestowing
civil liberty anyway; and
The Womanly' Vote 77
Even for political rights, among all the arguments eagerly cited
last year against extending the franchise, no one though it worth
while to urge that the class proposed to be aamlttea to tnem
was, or was not, physically, intellectually, or morally inferior to
the classes which already possessed it. As for civil rights - the
right to hold property, to make contracts, to sue and be sued -
no class, however humble, stupid, and even vicious, has even
been denied them since serfdom and slavery came to an end ...
[We reply:] Granted let me be physically, intellectually and
morally your inferior. So long as you allow I possess mClTal
r~l>pun:>iuijilY dllU t>u{iiLiI:'Hl illll:'ili~I:'H\..1:' tu j..IIUY'I Jigi.l lJVHI
wrong (a point I conclude you will concede, else why hang me
for murder?) I am quite content. It is only as a moral and
intelligent being I claim my civil rights. 18
But, of course, the vigour which informed believers in

;tpecificaUy sexual differences was easily proof against such
sophisticated political philosophy. Their arguments could not be
Side-stepped thus, and few suffragists emulated Frances Power
Cobbe's defence. Instead they tried to invert difference, to make a
fO~itive value out of it. So in 1877 Arabella Shore responded to the
well-worn charges of women's innate peculiarities:
Granting the favourite charge that she is more emotional and

impulsive than man, what then? Can the more or less of qual-
ities common to the race make the one half of a nation fit to bf'
represented, the other not? Is the Irishman disqualified for a
~~ause he is more impulsive than the Englishman? And
maY!1gt this vanety in the proportion of q~ities be an advan-
lIIge rather than otherwise? May there not be a danger from the
exclusive preponderance of a certain set of tendencies, and may
not the infusion of a new moral element sometimes strengthen
. . .-IJigher considerations which might be in danger of being
'postponed to merely commercial, or other self-regarding inter-
ests?19
~plying to Mrs Humphrey Ward's anti-suffrage appeal in The

llineteenth Century, Millicent Garrett Fawcett put this position in a
yet more forceful manner. Difference itself m"de the case for the
~tension of the vote, so let it not be conjured away or subdued:
'78 'Am I That Name?'
We do not want women to be bad imitations of men; we neither
deny nor minimise the differences between men and women.
The claim of women to representation depends to a large extent
on those differences. Women bring something to the service of
the state different from that which can be brought by men. Let
this fact be frankly recognised and let due weight be given to it
in the representative system of the country.lO
The anti-suffragist Appeal had argued that women's 'special con-

tribution to the community' could only be endangered by the
limited franchise. Mlli Fawcett, a leader of the 'moderate' ~ha
gists,and committed to the limited franchise, detenninep to stress
the virtues of sexual difference in support of this circumscribed
ambition. Much liberal suffragism by the end of the nineteenth
century had pledged itself to the same emphasis - although it is
difficult to know just how much this strategy was detennined by
real conviction.
Again this reliance on difference contrasts with the positions
taken by Mill in his speech to the Commons in 1867. Here he
insisted that women were becoming less markedly unlike men,
and that this was a deeply desirable development for both sexes.
The old apartheid, he believed, was withering away, a relic of the
time when the sexes
were _separate in their thoughts, because they were separate

equally in their amusements and in their serious occupations
... All this, among the educated classes, is now changed. The
man no longer gives his spare hours to violent exercises and
boisterous conviviality with male associates; the two sexes now
pass their lives together; the women of a man's family are his
'" 1_ _ • t , , 1. ~ 1. ~ ,.. , . . . : ..... ,_ , __~ • , .. ~ _".0 J
\AlII.. • , ........ ~ "Iol /I. ......., ,.."'\4"" .... \ot.Io,l .."y ......~"\.:o, .I.4-~'" ".IL...,...,L
coniidenhal tnend, and otten hlq trusted adViser."'
Given the atrength and intimacy of this constant association, Mill

continued, would not the institutionalised inferiority of the vote-
less wife drag down the husband? His is virtually an argument
from a feared contamination:
II..r~w ~,:,,,,~.~ ~?n, 'vish ~f) have hr hi" ~f'mrarljf'n !;C d(\~ely
linked with him. one whose thoughts are alien to those which
occupy lw, uwn mind one who can neIther be J help. J.
comtort, nor a support. to hIS own noblest teelings and pur-
The Womanly Vote 79
poses? Is this close and almost exclusive companionship com-
patible with women's being warned offalllarge subjects - being
taught that they ought not to care for what it is men's duty to
care for, and that to have any serious interests outside the
household is stepping beyond their province? Is it good for man
to live in complete communion of thoughts and feelings with
one who is studiously kept inferior to himself, whose earthly
interests are forcibly confined to within four walls, and who
cultivates, as a grace of character, ignorance and indifference
about the most inspiring subjects, those among which his·
highest duties are cast? Does anyone suppose that this can
happen without detriment to the man's own character? Sir, the
time is now come, when, unless women are raised to the level of
men, men will be pulled down to theirs. l l
Mill's argument for the elevation of women within marriage is

made more intelligible if we set beside it those simple and pro-
grammatic assertions of an incorrigible sexual difference made by
anti-suffrage speakers in the Commons debate on the Women's
Disabilities Bill in 1871. Mr Beresford Hope declared:
If this Bill should pass, and the number of emancipated women

were found to produce no appreciable change in the quality of
the representation in the House, then he would say that they
had made a great disturbance to gain something very small
indeed; but, on the other hand, if it were found to cause any
serious alteration in the character of the representation, then,
with all due respect to all the new constituencies, he believed
that the alteration would be shown in the deterioration and not
in the improvement of the quality of Parliament On this head
!"le .:ic:,i,:cd to ,;pc4lk yl.:.i;i.!y. I~ -.'~&:.I.i ~~l0t J qut:5tiui'l (~f -..,,-}-•.:trl€r thi.:
male or the female Intellect was the supenor one. He Simply said
that they were different, and that the difference made man more
capable of direct government and women more fitted for private
influence. There were in the world women of a manlike mind - a
Mrs Somerville or a Miss Martineau - and there were now and
then men of feminine softness: but he reasoned from the gener-
ality and not from marked exceptions. 23
Believing in absolute distinctions, this speaker foresaw a distinc-

tive w1Jmanly vute which would enact the emotional peculiarities
of the new voters:
We c;hould have more wars for an Idea or hasty alhances with
scheming neighbours, more class cries, pennissive legislation,
domestic perplexities, and sentimental grievances. Our legisla-
tion would develop hysterical and spasmodic features, partak-
ing more of the French and American system than reproducing
the tradition of the English Parliament. 24
Mrs Humphrey Ward's An Appeal Against Female Suffrage played

more mildly upon the same theme. A volatile female emotionality
would import hysteria into politIcs - by Imphcation, a san)?;ume
realm in its undisturbed masculinity~
The quickness to feel, the willingness to lay aside prudential

considerations in a right cause, which are amongst the peculiar
excellencies of women, are in their right place when they are
used to influence the more highly trained and developed
judgement of men. But if this quickness of feeling could be
immediately and directly translated into public action. in mat-
ters of vast and complicated political import, the risks of politics
would be enonnously increased, and what is now a national
blessing might easily become a national calami ty. 25
Women's influence took its blessedness precisely from its indirec-

tion, as if the male vote acted as a filter for its highly charged
impurities:
On the one hand, then, we believe that to admit women to the

ordinary machinery of political life would inflame the partisan-
ship and increase the evils, already so conspicuous, of that life,
would tend to blunt the special moral qualities of women, and
so to lessen the national reserves of moral force; and, on the
other hand, we dread the political and practical effects which, in
our belief, would follow on such a transfonnation as is pro-
posed, of an influence which is now beneficent largely because
it is indirect and gradual. 26
Proponents of women's suffrage decades earlier had attacked

these theories of subliminal influence in vain. In her 1877 address
to the London National Society for Women's Suffrage, Arabella
Shore had denounced
Thr Wnmal'fly Vpte 81
the great Nature-argument ... First one would like to kno,,.,'
when it is so glibly said that Natl1TP i" orroC::f>ti to thic:: or thilt
what is meant by Nature. Is it ancient usage or established
convention, the law or custom of our country, training, social
position, the speaker's own particular fancy or prejudice, or
what? ... It seems that for a woman to manage property, carry
on large businesses, be a farmer, a merchant, a pari~ overseer,
a clerk in various capacities, a municipal elector, or member of a
School Board, or even a Sovereign, is not against Nature .. but to
g;'rp ,,' ,mtp fm' " Mt-mhf"r of Parliament is. . We feel that
politics means legislation, and that legislation enters into ques-
tions in which we have a right and necessity to be interested.
We cannot separate domestic politics from social conditions of
life. If then we are told that we have nothing to do with politics,
we can but answer that politics have a great deal to do with US. l7
Yet the double-edged assumption of closeness between women

and the social sphere was implacably resistant to being translated
into electoral politics, so long as the central conviction endured
that 'women' was a distinct natural species. Arabella Shore spoke
directly against the supposed wholeness of 'man', and the ancil-
lary being of 'woman':
The language of these theorists implies that man is, properly

speaking. all human nature. with all his faculties perfectly
balanced, and woman an imperfect anomalous accessory, a
bundle of instincts always foolish, and mostly mIschievous ...
Women vary as men vary, they are moulded and modified by
--. the same diversified influences as affect men, birth, education,
family-belongings, social atmosphere; and these variations
apart, Englishwomen are of the same race as Englishmen, and
_. partake of the same strong national character. So that, on the
whole, Magna Carta is not likely to be repealed by the female
descendents of those who won it for us. lB
But one assault returned and returned to undermine any such

pleas that 'women' were demonstrably not homogeneous. That
was the argument from physiology. The 1889 Appeal's women
signatories fell back on it:
we believe that the emancipating process has now reached the
limi ts fixed by the physical constitution of women, and by the
fundamental difference which must always exist between their
main occupations and those of men. The care of the sick and the
insane; the treatment of the poor; the education of children; in
all these matters, and others besides, they have made good their
claim to larger and more extended powers. We rejoice in it. 29
Physiological femininity underlay these 'social' preo~cupations

of WOmen, while it forbade their crossing into the' realm of
politics, 'questions of foreign or colonial policy, or of grave con-
stitut10nal change'30 which demanded a different fomi' of judge-
ment·: Women's social alliances and higher morality would, the
signatories believed, justly admit them to local and indirect
power:
we would give them their full share in the State of social effort
and social mechanism: we look for their increasing activity in
that higher State which rests on thought, conscience, and moral
influence; but we protest against their admission to direct
power in the State which does rest upon force - the State in its
administrative, military, and financial aspects - where the phys-
ical capacity, the accumulated experience and inheri ted training
of men ought to prevail without the harassing interference of
those who, though they may be partners with men in debate,
can in these matters never be partners with them in action. 31
Useless to retort that the involvement of the majority of enfran-

chised men with the 'administrative, military, and financial
d~pect:;' of national life was hardly direct. The appeal to the
dIsablIng phYSIOlogy ol women Genved at ·least some oi US tOrc~
fulness from its proximity to the doctrine of separate spheres, a
potent conflation of the demarcated interests, natures, and social
alliances of \t'omen. This conflation only intensified in the course
of the nineteenth-century suffrage debates. Harriet Taylor had
dealt with it sharply in 1851:
Many persons think they have sufficiently justified the re&tric-

i~vu.> vu ",VUlt:U'" [idJ ui ... divil, \\'h"fl thq· have ~aiJ th.:.t ~r.(
f11T<.;nit<; frnm which women are excluded Clre unfeminine and
th'lt thp rr(lpt'T ~J1hpYl> (11 W'''llpn i .. not pollti,f, or pllhlicJt~. but
pTiVilte and domestic hie.
The Womanly Vote 83
We deny the right of any portion of the species to decide for
another portion, or an individual for another individual, what is
and what is not their 'proper sphere'. The proper sphere for all
human beings is the largest and highest which they are able to
attain to. What this is, cannot be ascertained, without complete
liberty of choice. 32
But the yawning sap between 'women' and 'all human beings'
continued to thwart this qefiant liberalism.
The third great pole of anti-suffrage contention was that of the

'separate sphere' of women. This depended heavily on their
putative closeness to the social: it reworked their separate 'inter-
ests' and 'differences' under the banner of the social to produce a
forceful third item. The suffrage campaigner Barbara Bodichon
was among those in the 1860s who tried another tactic: to build on
this established association and edge it towards the political:
the mere fact of being called upon to enforce an opinion by a

vote, would have an immediate effect in awakening a healthy
sense of responsibility. There is no reason why these women
should not take an active interest in all the social questions -
education, public health, prison discipline, the poor laws, and
the rest - which occupy Parliament, and by bringing women
into hearty co-operation with men, we gain the benefit not only
of their work, but of their intelligent sympathy.33
In similar vein, Mill tried to start an argument for the suffrage from
an acknowledgement of domestic preoccupations, in order to push
t!·,':UI uulvVd.IJ::. if Hut iu ~LUJt! llit!lIl;
The ordinary occupations of most women are, and are likely to

remain, principally domestic; but the notion that these occupa-
tions are incompatible with the keenest interest in national
affairs, and in all the great interests of humanity, is·as utterly
futile as the apprehension, once sincerely entertained, that
artisans would desert their workshops and their factories if they
\A.'~~~ ~:t~.~br~ ~':' ,..~:'!~ 34
Al thl2 same time, this presumably political suggestion - Mill

was speaking to the Commons .-- was both undercut and superfi-
dally confirmed by his optimism that the separation 0f sphere:;
was, anyway, witherine awav within priVittf> Iivps'
We talk of political revolutions, but we do not sufficiently attend

to the fact that there has taken place around us a silent domestic
revolution; women and men are, for the first time in history,
really each other's companions. 3s
It followed, then, that enfranchising women would prevent the

:;HJe uf their husbands into their lower world of gossip and trivia
. personalities'. Mill was defeated; twenty years later, the West
minster Review 'proposed a rather Fabian argument, on com-
munitarian not personal-ethical grounds. The vote should be
bestowed willy-nilly for the benefit of 'the community':
It is clear that if duly qualified women desire ... to be enrolled

as citizens, they are entitled to have their demands granted. But
it is equally clear that, even if they do not desire it. the State is
entitled to make them assume the responsibility of citizenship if
it be proved that it is for the welfare of the State that they should
be thus burdened. That doctrine is universally admitted in the
case of men. Upon it rests the law of conscription ... compul-
sory education and indeed of all taxation, and thus women are
included in its scope, .. It is a loss to society that it should not
have the benefit of women's ability reflected in Parliament, to
aid in the discussion of the vast number of social subjects, all of
which affect women as keenly as men. 36
Even the most managerial advocacy of the suffrage, it seems,

could not resist repeating the supposition of the close alliance
between 'women' and 'the social', to be cemented by the vote.
This alliance still could not reduce the extremity of the gulf
between 'women' considered en masse and the political realm.
Again, the 'wives of distinguished men' who signed the Appeal
Against Female Suffrage of 1889 confinn how this gulf could serve
opposing causes. For them, women's proximity to the social
constituted an argument for refusing the step of the vote into the
political. Local concerns were admirable:
we are heartily in sympathy with all the recent effolts which

have been made to give women a more important part of those
[he W(lmanly Vote
affairs of the community where their interests and those of men

are equally concerned; where it is possible tor them not only to
decide but to help in carrying out, and where, therefore, judg-
ment is weighted by a true responsibility, and can be guided by
experience and the practical information which comes from it.
As voters for or members of School Boards, Boards of Guar-
dians, and other important public bodies, women have now
opportunities for public usefulness which must promote the
srO\vth' of character, and at the same time ::;trengthen among'
li:\t:'I~llilt: ~ul:lCli ~t:'IISt' anu nd[,lr.~:
Thus far, but no further. Women citizens without the vote, they
felt, made for a better order of things, in which the separation of
natural spheres might be maintained for the general good. Let
women make their own form of cOI11:ribution:
For whatever may be the duty and privilege of the parliamentary

vote for men, we hold that citizenship is not dependent upon or
identical with the possession of the suffrage. Citizenship lies in
the participation of each individual in effort for the good of the
community. And we believe that women will be more valuable
citizens, will contribute more to the national life without the
vote than with it 38
The old notion of a species-specific temperamental volatility

teappE'ared ;n this manifesto; FerhaFs Mrs Humphrey Ward felt
that her own authorship escaped its implications. 39
That women were already adequately represented by means of
their subterranean workings on their male relatives' vote was the
OIaest plank of anti-suffragism. There was a 'family' principle of
repesentation which was not to be disturbed. In 1892 Gladstone -
who undoubtedly had less elevated motives as well for his
stance - voiced his
fear lest beginning with the State, we should eventually be

found to have intruded into what is yet more fundamental and
more sacred, the precinct of the family, and should dislocate, or
injuriously modify, the relations of domestic life. 40
Twenty-five years earlier, Mill had objected that indirect power

was not responsible power, and therefore in order to render it
moral, it must be made direct. He did not choose to question the
supposition that all women really did possess the feted influence:
Sir, it is true that women have great power. It is part of my case

that they have great power; but they have it under the worst
possible conditions, because it is indirect and therefore irres-
ponsible. I want to make this great power a responsible power. I
want to make the woman feel her conscience interested in its
honest exercise.! want her to feel that it is not.given to her as a
mere means of personal ascendancy. I want to make her'
influence work by a manly interchange of opinion, and not only
by l2ajolery. I want to awaken in her the political point of
honour. Many a woman already influences greatly the political
conduct of the men c(mnert~d with hf'T, ~nci sometime~ by force
of will, actually governs it; but she is never supposed to have
anything to do with it; the man whum she influences, and
perhaps misleads, is alone responsible; her power is like the
back-stairs influence of a favourite. 41
Again, 'women' are characterised as embodiments of sentiment,

as cloying courtiers whose moral elevation is imperative to pre-
vent the mutual decline of both sexes. Indeed 'women' had better
be masculinised, Mill pleads:
men are afraid of manly women; but those who have considered
the nature and power of social influence well know, that unless
there are manly women, there will not much longer be manly
men.42
Gjven the psyr.hologisations of the female sex he had already

deployed. this stratagem was the onlv means avadable to Mdl,
however incongruously it may have rung in the Commons. To
shift his ground from arguing the mutual corruptions of 'indirect
influence', ht! turned to a less highly charged ground of attack: the
inadequacy of indirection:
The operatives for instance; are they not virtually represented

by the rt:'presentalions of their employers? Are not the interests
ui tilt:' t:!lllpioyt:'rs and thdt uf the empluyed, when properly
understood, the same' To insinuate the contrary, is it not the
horribl£' crime of setting cl",.,'! against elMS' And what i~
The Womanly Vote 87
more, are not all employers good, kind, benevolent men, who
love their workpeople, and always desire to do what is most for
their good? All these assertions are as true, and as much to the
purpose, as the corresponding assertions respecting men and
women ... Workmen need other protection than that of their
employers, and women other protection than that of their men. I
should like to have a Return laid before this House of the
number of women who are annually beaten to death, kicked to
death, or trampl~d to death by their male protectors. 43
To enfranchise only some women would hardly be a radical step.
Sir, grievances of less magnitude than the law of the property of

married women, when suffered by parties less inured to passive
submission, have provoked revolutions. We ought not to take
advantage of the security we feel against any such consequence
in the present case, to withhold from a limited number of
women that moderate amount of partiCipation in the enactment
and improvement of our laws, which this Motion solicits for
them, and which would enable the general feelings of women to
be heard in this House through a few male representatives. 44
This was, he continued, a right enjoyed by 'every petty trade or

profession'. Mill's amendment, nevertheless, was lost by 73 to 196
votes; and as we have seen, anti-suffrage opinion throughout the
next few decades repeated the old grounds - of adequate and
indirect - or adequate, because indirect - influence .
.. .
A burning and practical dislike of the idea of female voters, one
WhICh attected Liberal OpiniOn profoundly, was rootea etsewnere.
Since the limited franchise, once extended, would have admitted
some women property-owners, their political conservatism was
feared. Here not so much 'women' trailing their affective attri-
butes were repugnant, but the spectre of a fresh phalanx of Tory
voters. So some de-sexing of the heavily sexualised woman voter
did come about; but at a paralysing cost to the suffragists. Viewed
as prospective Tories, they were unenticing causes for much
~iUt! i11 u pillivu LV ~~ pu u;:\\... :,,111:'.3 tlJ ill\..l iJh..:-l :~ :. "... 1tAl:,:;,u ~"Li.:.. u0~
l
i~olated; but t(l the end f'f thp 1~80~. <1 gr(,,<1t wf'ight (If political
Ijbertll antagonism ,",(Ire down Qn the (;'xtefl"ion nf thp limltpd
tranchIse. Captam Maxse·s speech to the Electoral Refonn Confer-
~.:.~ ... ~ :~l 1871 ..::.~~~~~~~.:.tt-:J tl~-::. i .... J.i~.:..! ~n.j !ibcr.l.! .lPFrchcn!lion~.
the natural psychological conservatism of 'women' would translate
itself directly into political allegiances, democracy would suffer
further injuries as a result, and the ignoble tentacles of the clergy
would have a means of reaching further into public life:
It is said, however, that men have not represented the interests

of women in the legislature. But if women have. been badly
r<>rrpc;pntPn in P"'r1i~mpnt hithf'rtn - C;n h~vp TT"pn I Thp hieh<>"t
interests of neither have yet been represented in the legislature;
we have all suffered alike from the selfish class rule. The object
of our present movement is to represent all classes and the
women in them ... It is my opinion that the collective thought
of women - that is, the opinion of the majority of women - will
be adverse to enlightenment and progress. I must decline to
regard the ladies who demand Woman Suffrage as the mental
representatives of their sex. 45
For unlike these admirable exceptions, most women occupied the

apathetic and domesticated feminine standpoint:
They seem to be incapable of sympathizing with great causes -

they have a strong predilection for personal Institutions. As a
rule they are completely without interest in great national ques-
tions. Theirs is essentially the private life point of view. 46
Their petty conservatism, harnessed by the Clergy - 'their instinc-

tive submission to whatever is and their dread of ideas, which
have not the sanction of custom' .- would, dignified by the fran-
chise, result in a catastrophe for progress:
The hands of the clock are to be put back that women may pass
through men's accomplished experiences, and we are to be
delivered over for a long period of uninterrupted Tory rule!41
The slippage here between an attributed psychological conser-

vatism and an expected political conservatism is complete, and is
well in excess of any realistic assessment of the voting behaviour
of women property-owners. Yet the radical attack on the limited
franchise took a further twist: the charge that it was not, in any
The Womanly Vote 89
""vt'm, a true enfram::hisement of all women, tU! meh~ly 01 lh ..
propertied and single:
The effect of embodying it in legislation will be that propertied

widows and spinsters will possess the franchise not on account
of their sex, but on account of their property, while marriage
will stand out as a political disqualification. The l~ies say that
they take the franchise as they find it; but they are bound to
recognise that the present electoral law was constructed solely
with a view to male 5uiirage, and that It cannot be made,
without some special wifequalificatiun which they do not
propose, to include woman suffrage. 48
The 'class measure' of the limited suffrage was not even open,
then, to the anyway dubious excuse that it represented sexual
emancipation; only some women would become reincarnated as
pri vileged agen ts of an 'additional means of class oppression'.
How could such a bleak deconstruction of 'women' be countered?
It was a harsh irony of debate in the 18'70s that women were either
excessively women, and disqualified by means of their presumed
latent hysteria - or that when the limitations of the suffrage were
considered, they were not women at all. Arahella Shore dismissed
the accusation of 'stagnant Toryism' by pointing out that how a
newly enfranchised person might vote was not the principled
issue:
if it be true that there are more Conservatives among women

thall men, this l.annot to the true Liberal be a just reason fOI
their exclusion. What business have we to make or maintain
Jaws to exclude the political party whose vieW! we dislike?49
Conceding to the forces of political expediency, she added that a

monoli thic sexed vote was not a real threilt anyway:
It would be more fair to say that in politics women ordinarily

adopt the opinion of the men around them than that all women
have but one opinion amongst them. If this leads generally to
Toryism, we can only say that on Constitutional principles the
party that has a majority in the nation has a right to a majority in
the House. so
9U , Am I That Name?'
Although, she added circumspectly, enlightened female opinion

was thoroughly Liberal. Of such a persuasion were the suffragists,
experienced through philanthropic work on women's needs, and
'public and social questions'; they, and working women, were the
two main classes of contenders for the vote. It was untrue that only
the conservative elite sought the vote - and that out of self-
interest:
For this is no'! a '~adies' question, it is a 'women's' question, an9

I and many others know how the working order of women feel
their practical grievances . and how they would hail any change,
that promised to amend them.51
Indeed, it became clear that 5evpr"ll - thnllgh not all - working

women's organisations would energetically support the limited
suffrage. The new life which transfonned and revived the suffrage
campaigns in the late 1890s and early 1900s included many social-
ist women in the growing labour movement. The new Indepen-
dent Labour Party committed itself to the vote for women. The
Women's Co-operative Guild after 1889 campaigned, on the
whole, most vigorously for it, as did at least a part of the Women's
Trade Union League. Their conviction was that since the ideally
democratic solution of universal adult suffrage did not look, then,
like 'practical politics', at least the limited women's suffrage
would, by admitting women householders, act as the thin end of
the desired wedge. And it would allow those working women,
often widows and spinsters, who were householders some
immediate access to political influence. 52
Still the familiar issue continued to tonnent much socialist and
liberal opinion. Adult suffrage was for many the more desirable
pohtics. The partial suffrage for women would brmg about
immediate parity between some women and some men, but at the
cost of that undemocratic 'some'. The bulk of the Women's Trade
Union League, as well as the newer Women's Labour League,
dedicated their efforts towards adult suffrage, and most of the
labour leadership as well as its rank and file inclined, like most
Liberals, in the same direction. By 1907, Mrs Pankhurst's
Women's Social and Political Union had turned its hopes deci·
slvely away trom these quarters, dllli towards the ConservativL
radIi. and had turned its tactics lowards militance At the same
The Womanly Vote 91
time, the well-rehearsed dread of women's natural reaction, and
its aptness to produce a swollen Tot)' vote, continued unabated.
The massive engagement of women in philanthropic work drew
many of them towards suffragism in the 1890s; some of the most
ardent campaigners, like Charlotte Oespard and Emmeline
Pethick-Lawrence, moved from welfare to politics. Nevertheless,
philanthropy was an uncertain training-ground for Parliamentary
agitation, since the 'social concern' of women might, as we have
seen from earlier decades, be harnessed to the 'separate spheres'
argument to confirm their remot~ness from harder politics. Yet
some did believe that the power oithe vote Was an essential lever
for rapid reform. In his Women and Philanthropy Frank Prochaska
points out that
Lady Henry Somerset's powerful British Women's Temperance

Association, for example, set up a political department and
announced that votes for women were essential if there was to
be temperance reform.s3
But he emphasises that women's vast immersion in philanthropic

efforts did not lead to any automatic flow of sympathy with The
Cause, and that the engagement of those who did sympathise was
rarely compulsive. They became swfrag(' SOCiety workers as well
as moral reformers or institutional visitors, in much the same
spirit. This was double-edged. Indeed, these types of benevolent
women 'were also prominent among the anti-suffragists, and their
charitable role was in tune with the anti-suffrage view of the
world'. S4 Those of whichever sex who viewed the phenomenon of
women philanthropists at the turn of the century through anti-
suffrage Jen~es feared that such women. once enfranchised and
:::~ccled ~-:: :: !atent 'FC'litica! em{'t!0n~Jj~,...,'. WI"I.,\0 <"irift ;ntn "
'sentimental socialism' and vute accordingly.
While the impact of female philanthropic involvement was
ambiguous, the old arguments of the 1860s still raged on. The
conviction of women's temperamental and intellectual apartness
continued to militate against their enfranchisement to a surpris-
ingly late date. Martin Pugh quotes Asquith's vehement anti-
feminism in 1920; to him, women electors were 'hopelessly ignor-
ant of Dolitics. credulous to the last degree and flickering with
~usts of sentiment like candles in the wind'.ss In his study of
anti-suffraglsm. Srparnte Sphf'rf's, Brian Harnson quotes
Asquith's belief that sexual differences were indelible bequests of
Nature, and so proof against any attempts at levelling. However
much political expediency may have reinforced this particular
apostle of difference, it remains true that a felt weight continued to
be placed by anti-suffragists on the supposed physiological
unfitness of women. This half-hidden objection was based on
menstruation, while the' overt complaint was of the declining
birthrate, hysteria, invalidism, pregnancies of women; their num-
eri(;al dominan~e which would make it undemO(;ratlc to enfran-
chise every one ot them; then meptness at contnbutmg to the
governing of the Empire and contending with the toughness of the
real political world; and their susceptibility to 'priestly influences'
which might entice them to obscurantist causes. 56
To ascribe the continual frustrations of the limited suffrage
campaign only to the espousal of a nobler democracy - adult
suffrage - by liberal and labour tendencies would overlook the
powers of repeated older doubts shared by many across the
political spectrum. The conviction, common to some members of
all parties, that the female electorate would inevitably vote along
sexed lines persisted into the 1920s, as did the objection that if
women were enfranchised altogether, men would be unfairly
outnumbered. Overblown conceptions of how rigorously men
deliberated when they cast a vote continued in the supposition
that women, sunk in household matters, would lack the perspicac-
ity to make a properly nuanced choice of party. Some conserva-
tives preferred the limited suffrage: as Brian Harrison describes it,
they 'frequently stressed the absurdity of a situation whereby the
educated and well-to-do lady was excluded from the franchise
which was enjoyed by her ignorant and propertyless gardener'. 57
But others stuck to a primitive anti-feminism. Some anti-
suffragists of all hues disliked refonners as a breed, and viewed
them as irritants regardless of their particular passions. Others
continued the nineteenth-century willingness to allocate women
to local social work as a proper outlet; a municipal vote had been
granted in 1869, and, bUilding on this, in 1910 the women's
society of the Anti-Suffrage League decided to encourage 'the
principle of the representation of women on municipal and other
bodies concerned with the domestic and social affairs of the
community'. 58 Criticism from the left si milarly reworked earlier
The Womanly Vote
positIOn!>,For ·SOlne man.ists -" here, Bt-Hull 'Bel"
represented an intolerable battle of sex versus class:
The antj-man agitation forms a capital red herring for drawing
. the popular scent of class opposition by substituting sex
an tagonism in its place. 59
From part of the labour movement, antipathy spr~ng from the
suspicion that organised feminism, if enfranchised, might clash
yet more vehemently with the leading trade unions over thp.
restriction of women's paid work by means or protective le~Jsia
tion, to which some femini·st tendencies weee .Jpposed Or. as tJw
radical John Bright announced, in a dismissal which still stalks
feminism today, 'Women are not a dasS.'bO
. .. •
Right up to 1928, the year of the quietly bestowed universal
franchise, the range of anti-suffrage opinion continued to be
broad; conservative and progressive feeling could often coincide
on the supposition that 'women' were a unified constituency,
awash with sex-specific characteristics. From the 1830s' raising of
women's candidary in radical. Owenite and Saint-Simonian dis-
cussion onwards, 'women' as a coDectivity had been argued,
stretched, dismembered, dragged hither and thither, re-aligned in
every possible direction, Philosophical ideas about femininity
could be either allied to, or set against, tacticill platfonns. The
awkwardness of 'women' as political aspirants was constantly and
violently t'1(posf"ci Givf'n thi" impossibility of speaking straight-
forwardly for 'women' in any unencumbered manner, how was it
that the suffrage was ever won in Britain? Only by hesitant and
piecemeal means, Changes to the Lords in 1911 made adult suf-
frage a more tangible prospect; manhood suffrage crept on by
stages; at least some sections of the Labour Party began to accept
that under the umbrella of the new electoral refonns women's
suffriige could also be included. But these vulnerable beginnings
were interrupted by the outbreak of war, and even after it in 1918,
full adult suffrage was restricted to men; some women were
admitted, not as property-owners but as over-30-year-olds who
were university graduates or the wives of local government elec-
tors, or electors themselves; all women were not enfranchised for
another decade. 61
I have drawn on a limited inStance of the difficulties faced by
feminisms of whatever hue in proposing 'women', even with
qualifying restrictions. A full and comparative history of interna-
tional suffrage would illuminate different dismemberments of
'women' - thus, in America, race disrupted the homogeneity of
sex as property did in Britain. The tactical and political torments
endured by different national feminisms varied accordingly. But a
common central problem remained. It is rarely, if ever, the case
that all women will step forward as completely unified candi~.atl~s
for emanciipation; and then 'women' en masse are so heayily
endowed iifac!.v~n~e with the alleged psyche of their ~ie5:'tAat
they are ruled out. Just as 'women', they are impossible; white as
'some women', they are inegalitatia[J.. Women in later-
nineteenth-century Britain were 'sexual difference' incarnate as a
group; the selfsame group that sought to plunge its sometimes
oppressive distinctiveness into the generality of all voters~' Yet
where that liability, the ascribed unity of 'women', did collapse
under the demarcating weight of property ownership, that was
still of no advantage to the suffragists. They could not try to usher
in the franchise by cheerfully arguing that differences among
"women' broke down their supposedly monstrous unity, since
these very divisions could be turned against suffragism too. 'Some
women' implied a stagnant Toryism. At the same time, any
reactive tactics of realpolitik had to contend with the constant
background of a devastating homogeneity of 'women' as creatures
of a separate culture and sphere. The introduction of fresh differ-
ences among women only exaggerated the fundamental impasse of
absolute difference.
This is illustrated by, for instance, the failure of the suffragist
claim that the very psychic distinctiveness of 'women' might well
quallfv them for [hp vot~. OP(''lllC:P it f .. i,.h, ...... on-:l~:I. ~~<.:: ~::.ti~:1::.!
tprnreramental and judicious balance of ttle e!listing deltorate. It
was only when the hundred flowers of ascribed differences had
wilted under the creeping exhaustions of time, repetitions, and
covert reform that all wbmen were, in a subdued fashion, eventu-
ally admitted. Meanwhile, suffragist feminisms had for many
decades been stretched to breaking-point on that wellworn Pro-
crustean bed of a 'sexed versus human', or a 'differentiated versus
mclusive'. democracy. While the manifold political labours for the
suttrage were both imperative and eventually satisfied, the abyss
udween WOTlIt'r! ;m,1 'human' opened under them at lOvelY turn.
The Womanly Vote I}S
There was no way in which some synthesising feminism could

have arched over this; the ambiguity of 'women' could not be
resolved. On the contrary, what the feminist demand for the vote
did was to lay it bare.
But could there not still be, in principle or under other more
propitious circumstances, a new feminist advocacy of women; one
which would finally succeed in dissolving this ambiguity? In my
concluding discussion, I will suggest that this is an impossible
longing - and maintain thatlto's~y so is in the interests of feminist
thought and politics. ,.c,. :'
5
Bodies, Identities,
Feminisms
--- ~-~ - ~~~~~ -----
Instead of interrogating a category, we will inter-ro~ate
11 wnm1ln Tt will iIt IpII"t hp TTlnT'P ile-rpP'Ihlp
(E. r. Thompson, The P':Jl)erty of Theury, UT AIL DlTer;
of Errors, 1978)
Let it be a care
How man or child
Be called man or child,
Or woman, woman.
(Lama Riding 'Care in Calling' Tlte Poemr.
of Laura Riding, 1938)
In my first chapter there were allusions to what I called the peculiar

temporalities of 'women'. But what are the consequences of this
for feminism; what does it mean to insist that 'women' are only
sometimes 'women', and wouldn't this suggestion undercut
feminism anyway? As part of my argument that it would not, we
could start with a fairly straightforward version of what this
temporality might be.
That is, that it's not possible to live twenty-four hours a day
soaked in the immediate awareness of one's sex. Gendered self-
consciousness has, mercifully. a flickering nature. Yet even here
there are at once some puzzles; because to be hit by the intrusions
of bodily being - to be caught out by the start of menstruation, for
instance - is just not the same as being caught up unexpectedly in
'being a woman', Only at some secondary stage of reflection
induced by something else, some ironic juxtaposition perhaps,
would your thought about your body's abrupt interruption
become, 'Now, maddeningly, I'm pushed into this female gender.'
But what about a classic example of another kind of precipitation
into a sexed self-consciousness? You walk down a street wrapped
in your pwn speculations; or you speed up. hell-bent on getting to
the shops before they close: a car slows down, a shout comments
96
Bodies, Identities, Feminisms 97
on your expression, your movement; or there's a derisively hisseJ
remark from the pavpment. You have indeed hppo c;ppn '<le; '"
woman', and violently reminded that your passage alone can
spark off such random sexual attraction-cum-contempt, that you
can be a spectacle when the last thing on your mind is your own
embodiedness. But again, the first thought here, surely, is not,
'Now, humiliatingly, I've become a woman', but ratber that you
have been positioned antagonistically as a woman-thing,
objectified as a distortion .
..50 in both of these examples, the deSCrIption ot 'suddenlv
becoming your sex' would be too secondary to be accurate. In thp.
first case, the leakage of blood means that the sovereignty exer-
cised by your hormonal cycle has gone and done it again. You
might view this badly timed event as your being taken up - or
thrown down - into your sex, but you need not do so. In the
second case, the mastery not of 'nature' but of 'man' is so leadenly
at work that it has pushed you into what leftist sociologists would
once have called an alienated self-recognition. Are there, then, any
readily available senses in which a simple conception of 'being a
woman at times' can hold good? Are there moments when some,
as it were, non-ideological kind of woman-ness irrupts, such that
you are for that moment a woman anironically and without
compromise?
Someone might well retort, against my dark examples, that the
experiences of s.exual happiness or of childbearing might furnish
resonantly optimistic ways of taking up 'being a woman now'.
And that these instan.:::es .:::atl affilTIl some solidarities among
women; that there are such positive elements to being a woman
that only a joyless Puritan could miss them; and that it is exag-
ger~tedly pessimistic to characterise the mut~l recognition of
woman-ness as merely the exchanged glances of those cornered in
the same cells by the epithet 'woman'.
There is an obstinate, perhaps intractable, difficulty inherent in
this argument, to which I'll return soon. For the moment, it seems
to me that even the apparently simplest, most innocent ways in
which one becomes temporarily a woman aTe not darting returns
to a category in a natural and hannless state, but are something
else: adoptions of, or precipitations into, a designation there in
advance, a characterisation of 'woman'. This holds true for even
the warmest, the most benign congratulation on one's being 'a real
woman'. And while there is indeed a phenomenology of inhabit-
ing a sex, the swaying in and out of it is more like ventures among
descriptions than like returns to a founding sexed condition.
So to speak about the individual temporality of being a woman
is really to speak about movements between the many tem-
poralities of a designation. And as this designation alters histori-
cally, so do these myriad possibilities assume different shapes.
'Women' as a collective noun has suffered its changes, as the
chapt~rs above have suggested. If we look at these historical
temporalit~es of 'women' in the same light as the indiv~ual
temporalities, then once again no originary, neutral and inert
'woman' lies there like a base behind the superstructurai vacHla-
tions. Some characterisation or other is eternally in play. The
question then for a feminist history is to discover whose, and with
what effects. This constant characterising also generates the polit-
ical dilemma for feminism, which - necessarily landed with
'women' - has no choice but to work with or against different
versions of the same wavering collectivity.
Is 'women', then, an eternally compromised noun? Suppose it is
admitted that even the statistician and the anatomist are up to
something when they amass 'women' for their purposes; aren't.
say, medical discoveries about preventing cervical cancer ex-
amples of a valuable concentration on 'women'? Or legislation for
~qual nghts and educational chances, which must name the social
grouping that they help? Or feminist invocations of 'women',
which, alert to the differences between them, call for courage and
solidarity within and between their pluralities? Granted, it would
be wildly perverse to deny that there can be any progressive
deployments of 'women' - all the achievements of emancipation
and campaigning would be obliterated in that denial. My aim is
different - it is to emphasise that inherent shakiness of the
ut::;iguauull WUlIltm' WII.i.4.:ll ""Ultl. pn~u W OOUI-lllO-rt:.¥ulullUH-"Y
and conservative deployments, and which is reflected in the
spasmodic and striking coincidences of leftist and rightist proposi-
tions about .he family or female nature. The cautionary point of
this emphasis is far from being anti-feminist. On the contrary, it
is to pin down this instability as the lot of feminism, which
resolves certain perplexities in the history of feminism and its
vacillations, but als{) pOints to its potentially inexhaustible flexibil-
'~y iI"'. F;;::;;';;';-'b its aims. Thi:; would include a capacity for a lively
and indeed revivifying irony about this 'women' who is the
subject of all tongues. A political movement possessed of
retlexivity ilnd an ironic spint would be forrrudable indeed.
To be named as a woman can be the precondition for some

kinds of solidarity. Political rhetorics which orchestrate an iden-
tity of 'women' or 'mothers' may generate refusals from their
ostensible targets. 50, to the well-known Lacanian formula - that
there's no becoming a subject without having to endure some
corresponding subjection ---: we could add, a little more optimisti-
cally, that there's no becoming a subject without the generation,
sooner or "later, of a contesting politics of that subject. Neverthe-
less, this revision doesn't ;;get near the heart of the. problem
introduced at the beginning of this chapter, of the 'positive'
aspects of 'women' as a collectivity.
There is a wish among several versions of Anglo-American
feminism to assert the real underlying unities among women, and
of the touchstone of 'women's experience'. It is as if this powerful
base could guarantee both the integrity and the survival of milit-
ant feminism. Other schools, sometimes influenced by readings of
Luce Irigaray, emphasise their belief in the necessity of a philoso-
phy which includes the distinctiveness of women's bodies. Des-
pite their different genealogies, both this specifying the feminine
and the stress on 'experience' share the conviction that there is a
real or potential common essence to being a woman, which must
not suffer eclipse. The now familiar device for challenging the
essentialism from a feminist perspective attacks its false universal-
ity in representing the experiences of, usually, middle-class white
western women as if they embraced all womankind. But this move
to replace the tacit universal with the qualified 'some women's
experience' is both necessary yet in the end inadequate. Below the
newly pluralised surfaces, the old problems still linger.
There is no gainsaying the forcefulness of the moment of recog-
nition, the 'but that's me!' of some described experience, which, if
me pOlltlCai posslblhties are there, Will pUli some women together
into a declared feminism. Perhaps it is not so much the 'experi-
ence' that is the puzzle which persists after the pluralising correc-
tion has been made, but the 'women's experience'. The phrase
works curiously, for it implies that the experiences originate with
the women, and it masks the likelihood that instead these have
accrued to women not by virtue of their womanhood alone, but as
traces of domination, whether natural or political. And while these
llIU)' iuJt!t:J pt:lia,u u!llyud y tu Ull~ :.LA, 111l:) ... aB LdJ.dly be use.:!
to celebrate or undE'rwrite the !':tate of being a woman without

many gloomier qualifications, But it is virtllally impossible for
feminism to unpick 'women's experience' to its own satisfaction.
This is because, in its historical analysis, social upheavals produce
the experiences; but then, rather than appealing to the altered
'women' who are the constructions or the outcome of these,
feminism, a product itself of these revolutionary processes,
appeals for solidarity to an embryonic consciousness of women.
Because of its drive towards a political massing together of
women, feminism can never wholeheartedly dismantle 'women's
experience', however much this category conflates the attributed,
the imposed, and the lived, and then sanctifies the resulting
melange.
iiut do we always neea the convictton ot umtYIng ·expenence to
ground a rallying cry? Donna Haraway has denied this:
We do not need a totality in order to work well. The feminist

dream of a common language, like all dreams for a perfectly
faithful naming of experience, is a totalizing and imperialist
one. In that sense, dialectics too is a dream language, longing to
resolve contradiction. 1
She pursues her attack on that spectrum of identities and

identifications which constitute some contemporary feminist
thought:
Feminisms and Marxisms have run aground on Western epiS-

temological alternatives to construct a revolutionary subject
from the perspective of a hierarchy of oppressions and/or a
latent position of moral superiority, innocence, and greater
closeness to nature. With no available original dream of a
common language or original symbiosis promising protection
from hostile 'masculine' separation, but written into the play of
a text that has no finally privileged reading or salvation history,
to recognise 'oneself' as fully implicated in the world frees us of
the need to root politics in identification, vanguard parties,
purity, and mothering. 2
It might be objected that there are marxisms which refuse

wholeness, and feminisms which refuse identification - but if we
let these qualifications pass, there is still a question as to whether
this vivid recommendation to a radical pluralism is able to cope
with the fundamental dilemmas lodged in the category 'women'. It
vaults over them here, but they must return - or they will do so for
as long as sexual division is a bifurcation of the discursive world rt
state of affairs that it's hard to envisage withering away. It is that
obstinate core of identification, purity, and mothering which
helps to underpin the appeal to 'women's experience' - and that
core is the concept of the female body .
• • •
.
Here we are on notoriously difficult ground. Hard, indeed, to
speak against the body. Even if it is allowed that the collectivE'
'women' may b.e.an effect of histury, what about biulogy, material-
ity? Surely, it is argued, those cannot be evaporated mto hme.
And from the standpoint of feminism, what has always been
lacking is a due recognition of the specificity of women's bodies,
sexual difference as lived. Indeed, Simone de Beauvoir - she who,
ironically, has been so often upbraided for paying no attention to
precisely what she does name here - wrote in ThE' Sf'Cond Sex:
In the sexual act and in maternity not only time and strength but
also essential values are involved for woman, Rationalist mater-
ialism tries in vain to disregard this dramatic aspect of sexual-
ity.l
Several contemporary feminisms also set themselves against what

they believe to be a damaging indiffe.rence to the powerful distinct
realities of the body. Here Elizabeth Gross sets out her under-
standing of the Irigarayan conception:
All bodies must be male or female, and the particularities,

specificities and differences of each need to be recognised and
represented in specific tenns. The social and patriarchal dis-
avowal of the specificity of women's bodies is a function, not only
of discriminatory social practices, but, more insidiously, of the
phallocentrism invested in the regimes of knowledge - science,
philosophy; the arts - which function only because and with the
effect of the submersion of women under male categories,
values and nonns. For lrigaray, the reinscription, through dis-
courses, of a positive, autonomous body for women is to render
disfunctional all fonns of knowledge that have hitherto pre-
sented themselves as neutral, objective or perspective-Iess. 4
1£, for the moment, we take up this conviction about the

political-analytic force of· women's bodies and lead it towards
history, then our question becomes - In what ways have these

social and patriarchal 'disavowals' functioned, and how could the
subdued bodies of women be restored in a true form? Do the
existing social histories of the female body answer that? They do
not. We may leaf through voyeuristic and sensational catalogues of
revulsion. That is not to deny that, could they escape being
charmed by the morbid, the histories of trained, exploited, or
distorted flesh - of bodies raped, circumcised, infected, ignorantly
treated in childbirth or subjected to constant pregna'rities - would
carry some moral force. s In respec,t of the developed~countries 'at
least, such ~\lRt6 would suggest that women are<~ rrient-
lessly caught in physical toils than they were, as pregnancy can be
restricted and gynaecological hazards are far less catastrophic -
that in this sense, women can spend less of their lives awkwardly
in their bodies. But even this fragile assumption of progress can be
qualified if we recall that contraception was rarely a complete
mystery even when the physiology of reproduction was not
deciphered, and that medical Whiggishness must be shaken by
many examples - the exhaustion of over-used antibiotics, the
ascent of new viral strains, the deeply undemocratic distribution
of resources, the advancing technologies of international geno-
cide.
So to the history of the body as a narrative of morbidity and its
defeats, we could contrast a historical sociology of the body. This
would worry about the management of populations, about social
policies drawing on demography or eugenics, about malnutrition
caused by economic policy in another hemisphere, the epidemiol-
ogy of industrial and nuclear pollution, and so forth. Yet in all this,
both 'the body' and 'women's bodies' will have slipped away as
objects, and become instead almost trace phenomena whieh are
YlOJ .....tJ Ly tI,t: vvlu::diutSa.aoout ui g~ {ecnno"~g-tes ana polI-
ties. Is this simply the predictable end of that peculiar hypostatisa-
tion, 'the body'? Perhaps it must always be transmuted into
bodies in Ute plurai, which are not only marked and marred by
famine, or gluttony, destitution or plenty, hazard or planning, but
are also shaped and created by them. 'The body' is not, for all its
corporeality, an originating point nor yet a terminus; it is a result
or an effect
,~..,~ ~'~. tJ.,:~ trilin of thought doesn't satisfy uur original que:>
tion of the bodies of women in history Even a gender-specific
historical sociology wuuld sonll,·how miss th€' point For in.,tance,
we could consider what an Jccount of mt'II'5 bodies would look
like; it would include historical descriptions of sex-related ill-
nesses, heart disease, lung cancer and the statistical challenge here
from women; the history of soldiery, war slaughter, conscription;
of virility as a concept, of Sparta; of the greater vulnerability of the
male foetus; of narcissism and its failures; of disabling conditions
of work, of mining, accidents; of the invention of the male
homosexual as a species-being. A history of prostitution but this
time written from the side of the clients, of contraception written
from the side of the.' fathers - to add to the histories of bodily
endurance, triumphant' musculature, or the humiliations of the
feebler of frame. All·this and more could count up the male body
in history, its frailties and its enjoyments, analogously to
women's. Yet the sum of the two parts, men and women, would
still not produce a satisfying total of 'the body', now democrati-
cally analysed with a proper regard to sexual difference.
What would have gone wrong, then, in the search? A chain of
unease remains: that anyone's body is - the classifications of
anatomy apart - only periodically either lived or treated as sexed,
therefore the gendered division of human life into bodily life
cannot be adequate or absolute. Only at times will the body
impose itself or be arranged as that of a woman or a man. So that if
we set out to track the bodies of women in history, we would
assume in advance that which really we needed to catch, instead,
on the wing of its fonnulation. Neither the body marked with
time, nor the sexed body marked with time, are the right concepts
here. For the impress of history as well as of individual temporal-
ity is to establish the body itself as lightly or as heavily gendered,
or as indifferent, and for that to run in and out of the eye of 'the
social'. It's more of a question of tracing the (always anatomically
gendered) body as it is differently established and interpreted as
~At:J VII ilhill Jifft!l~nt periods. If female bodies are thought of as
perenially such, as constant and even embodiments of sexed
being, that is a misconception which carries risks. If it leads to
feminist celebrations of the body as female, which intoxicatingly
forget the temporality and malleability of gendered existence, at
the same time it makes the feminist critique of, say, the instru-
mental positioning of women's bodies all the harder to develop
coherently, because this critique needs some notion of temporality
~cC'. !~ ::c~l:l be ::!~illiCi !hJ.t .1 ch;;.r.lctelistl,: uf the .i.ldist' ~ gaze i;j
to fix and freeze its object. to insist on absolute difference. to
forbid movement.
There is a further reason for unease with the sufficiency of a
historical sociology of the body, sexed or not. In a strong sense the

body is a concept. and so is hardlv intellie;ibJe unles!'l it is read in
relation to whatever else supports it and surrounds it. Indeed the
queer neutrality of the phrase 'the body' in its strenuous colour-
lessness suggests that something is up. We could speculate that
some of the persistent draw of this 'the body' lies in the tacit
promise to ground the sexual, to make intimacy more readily
decipherable, less evanescent. But then this enticement is under-
cut by the fact that the very location of 'the sexual' in the body is
itself historically mutable. And 'the body' is never above - or
below - history.
This is visible in the degree, for instance, to which it is held
co-extensive with the person; to which the mind-body distinction
is in piay, if at all; to which the soul is held to have the capacity to
dominate the flesh, U the contemporary body is usually consi-
dered as sexed, exactly what this means now is in part the residue
remaining after a long historical dethronement of the soul's pow-
ers, which in turn has swayed the balance of sexed nature. The
modem western body is what the soul has thoroughly vacated (in
favour, for some, of the unconscious). But here there is no sym-
metry between the sexes, because we can show that 'sex'
expanded differently into the old fields of soul and body in a
different way for 'women'. I suggested earlier that the
eighteenth-century remnants of the soul were flooded with the
womanly body, preparing the way for the nineteenth-century
naturalising of the species Woman. Any history of how far 'the
body' has been read as the measure of the human being would
have to include this - how far 'the body' has been read as
co-extensive with the gender of its bearer.
Some philosophical writings now hint that 'the body' does have
the status of a realm of underlying truth, and try to rescue it from
medicine or SOCiology by making it vivid again. Sebastiano rim-
panaro attempts this for socialism in his On Materialism. 6 And
Michel Foucault, at points in his History of Sexuality, treats 'bodies
and their pleasures' as touchstones of an anarchic truth, innocent
brute clarities which are then scored through with the strategies of
bio-technical management from on high.7 But elsewhere in his
work there is nothing of a last court of appeal in the body. On the
contrary, in the essay, 'Nietzsche, Genealogy, History', he writes:
The body is the inscribed surface of events (traced by language

and dissolved by ideas), the locus of a dissociated self (adopting
Bodies, Identities. Fenllnisms 105
the illusion of a substantial unity), and a volume in perpehlal

disintegration. Genealogy, as an analysis of descent, is thus
situated within the articulation of the body and history. Its task
is to expose a body totally imprinted by history and the process
of history's destruction of the body. 8
The integrity of the body's claim to afford a starting-point for

analysis is refused: •
'Effective' hi.blul} Jiff!;!!'.:. frou, tH~Jiti()nal histury in bt:,inf,w'ith,

out constramts. Nothmg m man-- not even hiS Dody - IS
sufficiently stable to serve as the basis for self-recognition or for
understanding other men. 9
This Foucauldian body is a deliquescing effect; composed but

constantly falling away from itself. What if the 'man' attached to it
is erased, and 'woman' set there instead? Has history 'totally
imprinted' the bodies of women in different ways?
One train of thought must answer yes. That women's bodies
become women's bodies only as they are caught up in the tyran-
nies, the overwhelming incursions of both nature and man - or,
more optimistically, that there are also vehement pleasures and
delights to offset a history of unbridled and violent subjection. But
to be faithful to the suggestion that 'the body' is really constantly
altering as a concept means that we must back off from the
supposition that women's bodies are systematically and exhaus-
tively different, that they are unified in an integral othemess.
Instead we would need to maintain that women only sometimes
live in the flesh distinctively of women, as it were, and this is a
function of historical categorisations as well as of an individual
daily phenomenology. To say that is by no means to deny that
because of the cyclical aspects of female phYSiology, there may be
a greater overall degree of slipping in and out of the consciousness
of the body for many women. But even this will always be subject
to different interpretations, and nothing more radical than the
facts of intermittent physiology reaDy holds the bodies of women
together.
Where they are dragged together, a sort of miserable sexual
democracy may obtain - of malnutrition, for instance - although
then they may well move from being starved bodies to being
starved sexed bodies as amenorrhea sets in. But these are rare
constructions which do produce 'women's bodies' as the victims
of shared sufferings. Conditions of ~eprivation, of sex-specific

hard labour, do also pull together the bent backs of women, but
then it is the sexual division of labour which has made the
partition - not a natural bodily unity. Another kind of massing of
potentially maternal bodies belongs to demographic policies,
although even here 'nature' is remote. Of course, if women did not
have the capacity of childbearing they could not be arrayed by
natalist or anti-natalist plans into populations to ,be cajoled or
managed. But the point is that irrespective of natural capacities,
only some prior lens which intends to focus on 'women's bodies'
is going to set them in such a light. The body becomes visible asa
body, and as a female body, only under some particular gaze -
including that of politics.
So the sexed body is not something reliably constant, which can
aJford a good underpiilrting for the complications oJ the thousand
discourses on 'women'. How and when even the body will be
understood and lived as gendeted, or indeed as a body at all, is not
fully predictable. Again this isn't only a function of an individual
phenomenology but of a historical and political phenomenology.
There is no deep natural collectivity of women's bodies which
precedes some subsequent arrangement of them through history
or biopolitics. If the body is an unsteady mark, scarred in its long
decay, then the sexed body too undergoes a similar radical tem-
porality, and more transitory states.
Then what is the attraction of the category of the body at all? For
those feminist philosophies which espouse it, it promises a means
of destabilising the tyranny of systematic blindness of sexual
difference. It has to be conceded that such philosophies do not
have to assume any naturally bestowed identity of women; the
fenlale body can be harshly characterised from above. This is
demonstrated tnrough hiuabeth l.ross s exposltton ot the Ingayan
schema, a clear, sympathetic account of the feminist reception of
that work:
Psychical, social and interpersonal meanings thus mark the

body, and through it, the identities or interiority of sexed
objects. The female body is inscribed socially, and most often,
individually experienced as a lacking, incomplete or inadequate
!:Ju.:iy ... Women's oppre!>sion is generated in part by the!>e
c;yc:tems of patriarchal morphological inscription - that is, by il
patriarchal symbolic order - nr part hy internalised, P5-Vdll(
Bo dies, Identities, Feminisms 107
representations of this inscribed body, and in part as a result of
the different behaviours, values and norms that result from
these different morphologies and psychologies. Irigaray's aim
... is to speak about a positive model or series of representa-
tions of femininity by which the female body may be positively
marked, which in its turn may help establish the conditions
necessary for th~ production of new kinds of discourse, new
fonns of knowledge and new modes of practice .10
.. : '(~j I
It is the condu,~~on here which worries me - Jhat the goal is a
fresh and autonQD,10us femininity, voiced in a revolutionary new
language, to spe~ a non-alienated being of woman. Indeed the
'woman' we have available is severely damaged. But for myself -
in common with many other feminists, but unlike many others
again - I would' not seek the freshly conceived creature, the
revelatory Woman we have not yet heard. She is an old enough
project, whose repeated failures testify to the impossibility of
carving out a truly radical space; the damage flows from the very
categorisation 'woman' which is and has always been circums-
cribed in advance from some quarter or other, rendering the ideal
of a purely self-representing 'femininity' implausible. A true
independence here would only be possible when all existing ideas
of sexual difference had been laid to rest; but then 'woman', too.
would be buried.
Such reflections undo the ambition to retrieve women's bodies
from their immersions beneath 'male categories, values and
nonns', The body circulates inexorably among the other categories
which sometimes arrange it in sexed ranks, sometimes not. For the
concept 'women's bodies' is opaque, and like 'women' it is always
in some juxtaposition to 'human' and to 'men', If this is envisaged
cb cl llic1{,glt? uE identifications, then !t i~, BTf'ly an pC}lIilatpr al
triangle in which both sexes are pitched at matching distances
from the apex of the human. And the figure is further skewed by
the asymmetries of the histories of the sexes as concepts as well as
their present disjointedness. If 'women' after the late seventeenth
century undergoes intensified feminising, this change does not
occur as a linear shift alone, as if we had moved from mercifully
less (If 'women' through a later excess of them. Other notions
'N~:c~. redeH"~ 1!!"rlpr"~"nrlin~~ nf Ihp ot>.rson have their influential
upheavals: Reason, Nature, the Unconscious, among many. The
periodic hardenings of 'women' don't happen alone or In any
necessary continuum (as any history of individualism would need
to take into account).
. .. ..
For 'women' are always differently re-membered, and the gulf
between them and the generally human will be more or less
thornily intractable. One measure of that gulf is the depth of
'women's' resonances. Is it so highly charged, just as a noun,. tJiat
it is impassably remote from the human? Can it be ~laimed that
the collective 'women' possesses a virtually metaphorical force. in
the way that the theatrical Woman does? And if it does, this force
would change. Linguistic studies of the 1950s contemplated the
ranges of metaphor. William Empson examined I. A. Richards'
proposal that all language was indeed radically metaphorical, but
found this wanting; 'cat', Empson objected, was a hopeless candi-
date for metaphor status. l l The 'woman-beauty' equation was
one which Empson would allow; and he believed that such a tacit
metaphor as 'woman' carried a 'pregnant' use in which the word
was full with its own extra weight. The emotive colouring of some
words was, as other linguists described it, an integral part of their
signification. But where there could be fullness, so there could be
contraction; the historical 'hardening of a convention' might nar-
row the range of a word. Here Empson offered the example of
Chastity, which gradually became restricted in its reference to
women's conduct. This alteration came about, he thought,
because 'what changes in the language are, so to speak, practical
policies'. If it were true that 'a word can become a .. com}J ..... _l
doctrine" or even that all words are compacted doctrines inher·
ently' then it would be vital to grasp these means 'by which our
language is continually thrusting doctrines upon us, perhaps very
ill-considered ones'.12 Perhaps, Empson concluded, this risky
power could be caught at its work through those analyses which
had interested I. A. Richards - of the interactions 'between a
word's Sense and its Emotion or Gesture' .13
To adopt Empson's phrase, the evolutions of 'women' must offer
a good instance of a changing 'compacted doctrine'. Is the variant
with which post-Enlightenment feminism must tangle, woman as
almost an anthropological species-being, nevertheless so impacted
that it dooms feminism to being a kind of oppositional anthropol-
ogy to protect its own kin? Or can we look for evolutions of
'women' itself? Rather than this, Julia Kristeva has suggested that
Bodies. ldentitie5 Ff'minic;rns 109
modem European feminism, because of its very invocation of
'women'. is itself a temporary fonn which must wither J.W.l)'. Sht;
has described this feminism as in some ways 'but a moment in the
thought of that anthropomorphic identity which currently blocks
the horizon of the discursive and scientific adventure of our
species'.14 So, in her account, 'woman' has merely inherited that
baggage of drawbacks belonging to the generic 'man'. European
feminism, trading in this debased currency 'women', has turned
into a renewed fonn of the tedious old anthropomorphism - into a
gynomOl'pnism which is eQually suspect. Tn thp fl1l1np~c; ,"\f
revolutionary time, it too would have to be transcended.
Meanwhile she characterises two strands of contemporary
feminism. One associates women, using spatial references, to the
timelessly maternal. Cyclical, monumental temporalities are allied
to an idea of femaleness. As with James Joyce's antithesis,
'Father's time, mother's species', these take their distance from
linear, historical notions of time. The result, she writes, is that
'female subjectivity as it gives itself up to intuition becomes a
problem with respect to a certain conception of time; time as
project, teleology, linear and prospective unfolding; time as depa.r~
ture, progce·.. ·;:J:-'. "nd arrival - in other word!!:" .ul.C ot
history' "15 _
This tendency is perfectly con_·n ....... widfthe sensibilities of a
newer feminism which lacks interest in h •..: ,.~l"es of a rationality
dominant in the nation state' .16 Here it departs from its antece-
dents, the egalitarian feminism which had spoken to the state,
especially on family policy matters. Nevertheless this newer
!,hilcsophy. despite its theoretical unwillingness to be dealing
with polit1c12~ ."~.:.' ~. in practice often tied in with the older
~tri.!nd .. A curious eclecticism, 12~ .... nsteva describes it, resulted - a
theory of timeless sexual difference which was none the less
embedded in history, an 'insertio" into history and the radical
refusal of the subjective limitations imposed by this history'S time
on an experiment carried out in the name of the irreducible
difference' . 17
This is a good characterisation too of the history which holds
that an eternal sexual antagonism will always be re-enacted in
changing skirmishes, as if men and women are the same actors
wearing different costumes from scene to scene but whose clashes
are always the same. Kristeva takes the opposite stance: 'the very
dichotomy man/woman as an opposition between two rival
entities may be und~rstood as belonging to metaphysics'. 18 This

must be dismantled through 'the demassification of the problem of
difference, which would imply, in a first phase, an apparent
de~dramatisation of the "flight to the death" between rival groups
and thus between the sexes'. 19
How, though, to carry out this programme of lowering the
dramatic stakes? Not, she argues, by aiming at a 'reconciliation'
between the warring sexes, but by relocating the struggle in the
opposite arena. That would be 'in the very place where it operates
with the maximum intransigence, in other words, in perSonal and
social identity it&eU, so as to make it disintegrate in its very
nucleus'. 20 Such a strategy of disintegration would include inten·
sifying aesthetic practices which bring out 'the relativity of his/her
sym bolic as well as biological existence'. 21 There is a true radical-
ism in this attempt to undo given identities, to go beyond the
policy of creating counter~identifications. It is evident that
'women' do undergo an excessive bestowal of all too many iden~
tities, and forcing new content into the old category is a doomed
project. But does it follow that a radical policy of harassing
tediously entrenched namings must also hold feminism to be a
transitional aspect of what is to be attacked? Certainly if all that
feminism could ever manage was a parrot-like reiteration of sexual
fixity _. it has to be admitted that at worst some versions are that -
then its dissolution would be a bleSSing. But in its past and in its
present, feminism is infinitely more ambiguous and sophisticateQ
than that parody allows. Only by ignoring the twists and turns of
its history can it be seen as a monotonous proponent of a simple
sexual difference, or of an un shaded idea of equality.
Julia Kristeva's recommendation is a bold stroke - that the only
rf!vo\utionary road will slice through the current confusions to
~ 1. ' . . " ,. , • •
,.y ...",;,;, o. .:"I".:.J' Q" Q1l Q"(ll,UpuiUUlpUlL :'lUU1UIlIl~'UII.JI.:II. .• UlIl UIl::>
, r ,
would only tollow If you assume that the identity of 'women' is

really coherent, so that you are faced only with the options of
revering it, ~r abandoning it for its hopeless antagonistic conser-
vatism, as she proposes. And it would also only follow if you had
an extraordinary faith in the powers of 'aesthetic practices' to
erode, for example, the sexual division of labour. A policy of
minimising 'w(lmE'[,,!' c(luld be more plausibly pursued by going
'h'~~~oh 'h~ ~~~~.Jl1('r'": r~ thr> r~tl"gnri'5ation in all their diversity tc
see what these effect, rathE'r than longing to obliterate 'women'
wholesale, d5 It thiS massitication reallv did represent cl un~tv Rut
such a scrutiny would not be likely to reach some welcome point of
tennination. For as long as the sexes are socially distinguished,
'women' will be nominated in their apartness, so that sexual
division will always be liable to conflation with some fundamental
ontological sexual difference. So feminism, the reaction to this
state of affairs, cannot be merely transitional, and a true post-
feminism can never arrive.
But if feminism can't be fairly characterised as a passing cloud
which heralds the dawn of an ultimate sexual translucency, then
neither must it. be unde.;stood to name untroubled solidi ties ()f
women. It cannot be a philosophy of 'the real'. Given that the
anatomically female person far outstrips the ranges of the limiting
label 'woman', then she can always say in all good faith, 'here I am
not a woman', meaning 'in this contracting description I cannot
recognize myself; there is more to this life than the designation
lets on, and to interpret every facet of existence as really gendered
produces a claustrophobia in me; I am not drawn by the charm of
an always sexually distinct universe'.
Nevertheless, modem feminism, because it deals with the con-
ditions of groups, is SOCiological in its character as it is in its
historical development. It cannot escape the torments which
spring from speaking for a coUectivity. The members of any
exhorted mass - whether of a race, a class, a nation; a bodily state,
a sexual persuasion - are always apt to break out of its corrals to
re-align themselves elsewhere. Indeed, the very indeterminacy of
the span of 'being a woman' can form the concealed subject-matter
of a political sociology of women which is interested in their
'stages'.
These difficulties can't be assuaged by appeals to the myriad
types and conditions of women on this earth. They are not a
::-:J.~tcr of there t-C;!;b diffcre~~ :;c:1~ rf w~men, t-t,t <:>f ~~f' f'fff>("." ('f
the designation, ·women·. Criticisms uf whitt! ~ducaled Western
feminism for generalising from its own experiences have been
strongly voiced, and have had their proper impact. Yet however
decisively ethnocentricity is countered, and the diversities of
women in race and class allowed, even the most sophisticated
political sociology is not going to be concerned with the historical
crystalIisations of sexed identities. Modem feminism, which in its
"'fl('i()ln~i(''''1 ilsn.,rt ... is Iilnd~d with the identitv of women as an
achieved fact of history and epistemology, can only swing be-
l ween asserting or refusing the completeness of this giwn identIty.
But both the 'special needs' of women as different or the desired

'equality' of women as similar may be swam~d bv the power of
the categorisation to defeat such fractures within it .
. . ..
Equality; difference; -'different but equal' - the history of feminism
since the 1790s has zigzagged and curved through these incom-
plete oppositions upon which it is itself precariously erected. This
swaying motion need not be a wonder, nor a cause for despair. If
feminism is the voicing of 'women' from the side of 'women', then
It cannot but act out the full ambiguities of that category. This
reflection reduces some of the sting and mystery of feminism's'
ceaseless oscillations, and allows us to prophesy its next incarna-
tions. Yet to adopt such a philosophical resignation to the vagaries
of a movement doomed to veer through eternity is cold comfort,
perhaps. What does it imply for the practice of feminist politicS?
And if indeed the label 'woman' is inadequate, that it is neither
possible nor desirable to live solidly inside any sexed designation,
then isn't that its own commentary on the unwillingness of many
to call themselves feminists? It explains, too, the exhaustion with
reiterations about 'women' which must afflict the most dedicated
feminist. Surely it's not uncommon to be tired, to long to be free of
the merciless guillotines of those gendered invocations thumping
down upon all speech and writing, to long, like Winifred Holtby,
for 'an end of the whole business ... the very name of feminist
... to be about the work in which my real interests lie'.22
Does all of this mean, then, that the better programme for
feminism now would be - to minimise 'women'? To cope with the
oscillations by so downplaying the category that insisting on
either differences or identities would become equally untenable?
My own suggestions grind to a halt here, on a territory of pragmat-
ism. I'd argue that it is compatible to suggest that 'women' don't
exist - while maintaining a politics of 'as if they existed' - since
the world behaves as if they unambiguously did. So that official
suppositions and conservative popular convictions will need to be
countered constantly by redefinitions of 'women'. Such challenges
to 'how women are' can throw sand in the eyes of the founding
categorisations and attributions, ideally disorientating them. But
the risk here is always that the very iteration of the afflicted
category serves, maliciously, not to undo it but to underwrite it.
The intimacies between consenting to be a subject and undergo-
Bodies, Identities, Femi,.isms 113
ing subjection are so great that even. to make demahds as an
oppositional subject may well extend the ·trap, wrap it furiously
around oneself. Yet this is hardly a paralysing risk, if it's recog-
nised.
Sometimes it will be a soundly explosive tactic to deny, in the
face of some thoughtless depiction, that there are any 'women'.
But at other times, the entrenchment of sexed thouglJt may be too
deep for this strategy to be understood and effective. So feminism
must be agile enough to say, 'Now we will be "women~' - but now
we will be persons. not these '·women".' And, in practice, what
sounds like a rigid opposition - between a philosophlcal correct-
nes's about the indeterminacy of the term, and a strategical wil-
lingness to clap one's feminist hand over one's theoretical mouth
and just get on with 'women' where necessary - will loosen. A
category may be at least conceptuaJly shaken if it is challenged and
refurbished, instead of only being perversely strengthened by
repetition. For instance, to argue that it's untrue that women
workers freely gravitate towards some less-welI-paid jobs because
these fit their natural inclinations, does indeed leave the annoy-
ingly separable grouping, 'women workers', untouched, but it
also successfully muddies the content of that term.l3 And the less
that 'women workers' can be believed to have a fixed nature, as
distinct from neglected needs because of their domestic respon-
sibilities, the more it will be arguable that only for some purposes
can they be distingUished from all workers. Feminism can then
join battle over which these purposes are to be. Of course this
means that feminism must 'spcOlk women', while at the same time,
an acute awareness of its vagaries is imperative. Domestic con-
cerns can easily be rewritten into a separate spheres familialism,
as in some European countries in the 1930s; aggressive recupera-
tions are always hovering near. So an active scepticism about the
integrity of the sacred category 'women' would be no merely
philosophical doubt to be stifled in the name of effective political
action in the world. On the contrary, it would be a condition for
the latter.
To be, or not to be, 'a woman'; to write or not 'as a woman'; to
espouse an egalitarianism which sees sexed manifestations as
blocks on the road to full democracy; to love theories of difference
which don't anticipate their own dissolution: these uncertainties
are rehearsed endlessly in the history of feminism, and fought
through within feminist-influenced politics. That 'women' is
indeterminate and impossible is no cause for lament. It is what
makes feminism; which has hardly been an indiscriminate
embrace anyway of the fragilities and peculiarities of the category.
What these do demand is a willingness, at times, to shred this
'women' to bits - to develop a speed, foxiness, versatility. The
temporalities of 'women' are like the missing middle term of
Aristotelian logic; while it's impossible to thoroughly be a
woman, it's also .impossible never to be one. On such shifting
sands feminism must stand and sway. Its situation in respect of
the sexed categories recalls Merleau-Ponty's description of another
powerful preselWef'There is no outstripping of sexuality any ftW!'e
than there is any sexuality enclosed within itself. No one is saved,
and no one is totally lost. '24
Notes and References
1 Does a Sex have a History?
1. See Jacqueline Rose, 'Introduction - II', in J. MitcheD and I. Rose

(eds), Feminiue Sexuality, Jacques .Lacan and the Eco/~ Freudienne,
London: Macmillan, 1982.
2. See Stephen Heath. 'Male Feminism', Dalhousie RerJino, no. 64, 2
(1986).
3. Jacques Derrida, Spltrs, Nietzsche's Styles, Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1978, pp. 51,55.
4. See arguments in Lynne Segal, Is the Future Fem_? Troubled
Thoughts on Contemporary Feminism, London: Virago, 1987.
5. Michel Foucault, 'Nietzsche, Genealogy, History', iD Language,
Counter-Memory, Practice: Selected Essays and In tervirws , Donald
F. Bouchard and Sherry Simon (eds and trans.), Ithaca: Comell
University Press, 1977, p. 162.
6. John Donne, 'The Relique', Poems, London, 1633.
7. See Joan Scott, 'L'Ouvriere! Mot Impie, Sordide. _ .": Women
Workers in the Discourse of French Political Economy (1840-1860)',
in P. Joyce (ed.), The Historical Meanings of Work, CaIDbridge Uni-
versity Press, 1987.
8. lane Anger, 'Jane Anger her Protection for Women. _ :, London,
1589, in Joan Goulianos (ed.), By a Woman Writt, Litendure from Six
Centuries By and About Women, Baltimore, Maryland: Penguin
Books Inc., 1974, p. 25.
9. Ibid, p. 27.
10. Ibid, p. 28.
11. Mary Wollstonecraft, A Vindication of the Rights of Wenlall, 1792,
Harmondsworth Penguin Books, 1982, p ]4?
1-::;..',: ~'!':"A, .:;~.,J.:",:, !!J;~;'0;~j:',~.',:,;~:-.. ;"~;'.t.~:;: !!~::k:, 1<:\7'1,
pp. 33,496.
13. Ibid, pp. 104, 105.
14. Denise Riley. War In the Nursery: TheOrieS of the Child tl1ld Mother,
London: Virago, 1983, pp. 150-55,195.
2 Progresses of the Soul
1. Sec the c'=,mmcn~;:r:: br I~ H.KkfC'r':!- t" thp PIlnearus_ Cambridge

Unlvl~rsily !'rE'S". 19'i2. rp. 7';-7
115
116 Notes and References
2.. This is discussed by Genevit've Lioyd in .pl(' Man (If Reason: 'Male'
and 'Fe,;"ale' in Western Philosophy, London: Methuen, 1984, p. 37
\,11 I ..... Q. u':'a
3, Peter Dronke, Women Writers of the Middle Ages, Cambridge Uni-
versityPress, 1984, pp. 180-81.
4. Ibid, p, 176,
5. Ibid, p. 175.
6. Ibid,p. 175,
7. Ibid, p. 219.
8. Ibid, p. 220.
9. Ian Maclean, The Renaissance Notion of Woman; a study in the
fortunes of schoiasticism and medICal sCIence in Eurol'ean intellectual
IIle, LamorlOge univerSIty Press, 1980, p. l.
10. Ibid, p. 44.
11. Ibid, p. 30.
12. Ibid, p. 12.
13. Ibid, p. 30.
14. Ibid, pp. 87 -8.
15. Ibid, p. 27.
16. In Margaret, Duchess of Newcastle, Part 11 of A Treasure of Know-
ledge, OR, The Female Oracle: included in Poems on Several Subjects,
both romiral and seriolls in 2 parts, by Alexander NicoL Schoolmastel,
Edinburgh, 1766.
17 (Margaret, Duchess of Newcastle): Lady Marchioness of Newcastle,
'Orations of Divers Sorts, accommodated to Divers Place', in Dilll'rs
Orations, London, 1662, p. 228.
18. Ibid, p. 229.
19. Ibid, p. 229.
20. Ibid, p. 230.
21. Ibid, p, 231.
22. Ibid, p. 232.
23. Anon. The anonymous author is often held to be Mary AsteJl; or
else Judith Drake. An Essay In Defence of the Female Sex, in which art'
inserted the characters of A Pedant, A Squire, A Beau, A \/atuoso, A
Paetaste T , A City-Critid, &c, Dedicated to Princess Anne of
Denmark, 3rd Edition, London, 1697, p, 5.
24, Ibid, p. 5.
25. Ibid, Preface.
26. Ibid, p. 6.
27. Ibid, p. 11.
28. Ibid, p. 12.
29. Ibid, p. 14.
30. Ibid, p. 16.
31. Ibid, p. 18.
32. Ibid, p, 23.
33. Ibid, p. 56.
34. Mary Astell, A Serious Proposal 10 the Ladies, for the Advancement of
their True and Greatest Interest, London, 1694. References here .ue to
the 4th edition of 1697, p. 14,
35. Ibid. p, 29.
36. Ibid, p. 41.
37. Mary Astell, Ret'ecljoTl~ UpUI. ,\'lllmtl~c:. L.J •. jv;~. :~S~. ~,:L._:.: __
here are from the 3rd edition of 1706. p. 84,
38. Ibid, p. 85.
39. Ibid, p. 83.
40. Ibid, p. 91.
41. Ibid, Preface. not paginated.
42. Ibid, p. 31.
43. Ibid, p. 62.
44. Ibid, Preface.
45, Ibid, p. 41.
46. Ibid, p, 24.
47. Ibid, p. 48.
48. Ibid, p. 51.
49. Ibid, Preface.
50. Ibid, Preface.
51. This is elaborated by Dale van Kley, The jansenists alld the EzpulslOn
of the Jesuits from France, 1757-1765, New Haven: Yale University
Press, 1975, p. 9.
52. Jean-Jacques Rousseau. La Nouvelle He/oise, 1761. The references
here are to the English translation of 1776 in four volumes bv
William Kenrick: E/oisa, p. 151. .
53. Ibid, p. 152.
54 Emile, DU de l'Education. Amsterdam. 1762, 1780. References to the
English edition, London: Everyman, 1905, p. 321.
55. Ibid, p. 322.
56. Ibid, p. 322.
57. Ibid, p. 324.
58. Ibid, p. 326.
59. Ibid, p. 324.
60. Ibid, p. 325
61. Ibid, p. 326.
62. Ibid, p. 327.
63. Ibid, p. 349.
64. I\lid, p. 20.
65. Ibid, p. 13.
66. Ibid, p. 14.
67. See the discussion in Genevieve Lloyd, Man of Reason, passim.
68. Alasdair Mdntyre, A Short History of Ethics, London: Routledge &
Kegan Paul, 1%7, p. 189.
69. Madame de Stael, De La Litterature, Paris, 1800. The references here
are from The Influence of Literature upon Society, translated from the
French of Madame de Slae/' Ho/stein, in 2 volumes, London, 1812,
pp. 156-7.
70. Ibid, p. 172.
71. Ibid, p. 307.
72. lan Watt, The Rise of the Novel: Studies ill Defoe, Richardson, and
Fielding, London: Chatto & Windus, 1957, p. 57,
73. G. W. F. Hegel, Phenomenology of the Spirit, 1807; references to
translation by A. V. Miller, Oxford University Press, 1977, p. 478.
74. Samuel Richardson, C/arissa, 1740, here, London: Everyman, 1%2,
p.118.
75. Rita Goldberg, Sex and Enlightenment, Cambridge University Press,
1984, p. 159.
76. Ibid, p. 23.
77. See Keith Thomas 'Women and the Civil War Sects', Past and
Present, 13 (1958), pp. 42-57 .
.;-.:"
'The Social';'Woman', and Sociological feminism
MadamE de Stdel, D~ La Lrttera/ure, Lonslderte dans ses rapports avec

les IIIstitutions sociales, 1800 (An 8). RefeTf'n('P.<; hprp are to the 2nd
edition, The Influence of Literature upon Society, London, 1812,
pp. 161-2.
Ibid, p. 165.
.,.>2 Ibid. p. 168 .
4. Ibid, pp. 162-3.
S. John Stuart Mill, The Subjection of Women, 1869, London: Virago,
1983, pp. 38-9.
Harriet Taylor, The Enfranchisement of Women', Westminster
Review, London, July 1851, p. 13.
7. Jacq ues Derrida, 'The Ends of Man', Plli1osophy and Phenomenologi-
cal Research, vol. 30,1969, pp. 31-57.
8. John Millar, Observation concerning the distinction of ranks in society,
Edinburgh, 1771. Subsequently, The origin of the distinction of ranks,
Edinburgh: W. Blackwood. 1806.
9 Fran,.ois Quesnay, Tdhlea'i Economique', 1st edition, Versailles,
Dec. 1758. See di$cussions by Harold Benenson, The Origins of the
Concept of Class and Gender Ideology', and 'The Impact of Political
Economic Thought on the Analysis of Women's Subordination',
Dept. of Sociology. Sarllh Lawrence College. New York. 1985 and
lQq7
111 .!\ugU!;t€ COIl'tc, ·1 C~;!l;",,: ;liL"'l. vI rl.J~,;:i(..';!1"'i \tlcin~.J London:
Routledge & Kegall Paul, 190i, pp. 1-7.
1·,L. Ibid. pp. 1-7.
12. HarrietaMarti.f\~au, TIll? positive philosophy of Auguste Comte, freely
translated and condensed by Harriet Martineau, London: J. Chap-
man, 1853.
D. Jeffrey Minson, 'Admlnlstrative Amnesia', paper to Law and Soci-
ety Conference, Macquarie University, Australia, 1984; and see his
furthel di:,,::u~::'lun ot ·the social' in Genl'/I10~11'5 ot MorI/Is: Nietzsc/lI!.
'·~: . . .: .. :..I:f ~~--''vii~;:L'rj; I.n,,: i!.l. :i..l-l·'ri;i;Ci·j~; L,j Lti/l t ,), LOl'ldun: Mdflnllian,
1986.
'Women's Time', translated by Alice Jardine, Signs, A Journal of
Women in Culture and Society, vol. 7, no. 1, 1981, pp. 13-35.
15. Thus, for instance, Maud Pember Reeves, Round About a Pound a
Week, London: G. Bell & Sons Ltd, 1913, and Virago, 1979; and
Margaret L1ewelyn Davies (ed.), Maternity; Letters from Wor-kit'g
Women, London: G. Bell & Sons Ltd, 1915, and Virago, 1978; and by
the same editor, Life as We Have Known It, London: Hogarth Press,
1931, and Virago, 1977.
16. See, for instance, Peter Clarke, Liberals and Social Democrats, Cam-
bridge University Press, 1978.
17. Transactions of the National Association for the Promotion of Social
Science, vol. 1, London, 185S, introductory page xxv.
18. Ibid, p. xxv.
1'::1. Ibid, p. xxxi.
20. Louisa Twining, 'Objects and Aims of the Workhouse Visiting
Society', in ibid, p. 671.
21. Mary-Anne Baines, 'The L!di",~ Natillnal Assoliation for the Diffu-
sion of Sanitary Knowledge' in ibid, p. 531.
22. Ibid, p. 531.
23. Social Science, the Journal of the National Association for the
Promotion of Social Science, London, vol. 1, 1866, p. 272.
24. 'Social Science' in Blackwood's MagaZine, vol. 90, Edinburgh,
July-December, 1861, pp. 463-78, p. 468.
25 Ibid, p. 470.
26. Social Science, London, vol. I, no. 4,21 Dec. 1866.
27. Mabel Atkinson, The Economic Foulldations of the Women's Move-
ment. Fabian Tract no 17'i . London . .Tune 1914, p 199.
28. The Committee appointed by the Local Government Board under
the chairmanship of Sir John Tudor Waiters, to report on working-
class housing to be built with government aid: Cd. 9191, London,
1918.
29. See Denise Riley, War ill tllp Nursery: Theories of the CJ,ild and
Mother, London: Virago, 1983, pp. 184-96.
30. Alva MyrdaL Nation and Family, London: Kegan Paul, Trench,
Trubner& Co, 1945, p. 121.
11. \.lay Sindair, The Trci: of H~",!fll, London. Macrnillan, 1917, p. 1~'1,
,",' I. ' '\"'..- _. • .. • -~. ,,-,--'
........... l.iclL'I-J ,d,luULbhJJI, ULLHn Uj U 1,t:'V .. LUIUlulI, ....... lLdtlU I.)L " •• 'UY'::',
1929, p. 257.
JJ. Virginia Wool£. Three Guineas, London: Hogarth, 1938, p. 10l.
34. Ibid, p. 102.
35. Winifred Holtby, 'Feminism Divided', Time and Tide, 8 August
1924; reprinted in Testament of a Generation: The Journalism of Vera
Brit/ain and Winifred Ho/tbV' edited by P. Berry and A. Bishop,
London: Virago, 1985, p. 48.
36, Vera Bdttain, 'Why Feminism Lives', pamphlet published by the
~IX Point Group i~ 1977. r~prjnted in Testament oJ a Cellerafinll,
tl. :1'1,
17 Ibirj r qa
_'.i.'. 'v't>ra Bnllain.lYlrs, ['illlkh"rsl ;;no 1nl' Older Feminist,,', ,\!.ll/(lies·
leT Guardian, 20 June 1928: rpprintt'ci '" Testn..,ent of a Ge'l/~ration
p. 101.
~'\':.l.~:.u~~ ; ~v~ . ~,. ~.&l l~lt: ~t""u", £..- IVlarcn J.~.')'t; rcprtntea In 1 estQ-
ment of a Generation, p. 84.
40. Ibid, p. 86.
41. ~rs C. S. (Dorothy) Peel, The Labour Savillg House, London, 1917.
42. For instance, Dora Russeli, Hypatia, London: Kegan Paul, Trench,
Trubner & Co. Ltd, 1925; and Naomi Mitchison, Comments on Birth
Control, London: Faber&Faber, 1930.
43. Virginia Woolf; A Room of One's Own, London: Hogarth, 1929,
p.91.
44. Ibid, P. 96.
"*J. ii:llli, p. 1U~.
46. Ibid, p. 107.
47. Ibid, p. 108.
48. Ibid, p. 118.
49. Ibid, p. 100.
50. Simone de Beauvoir, The Second Sex, trans. H. Parshley, London:
Jonathan Cape, 1953; and reprinted by Penguin, 1972, p. 726.
51. See Mary WoJlstonecraft, A Vindication of the Rights of Woman,
London, 1792: Penguin, 1982, p. 142.
52. See also Sally Alexander's discussion in 'Women, Class, and Sexual
Differences in the 1830s and 1840s; some reflections on the writing
of a feminist history', History Workshop, London, Spring 1984,
pp. 125-49.
4 The Womanly Vote
1. Olympe de Gouges, Les Droits de la Femme, Paris, n.d. (1791), and

see Women ill Revolutionary Paris, 1789 -1795, Selected Documents,
trans. with notes and commentary by D. G. Levy, H. B. Apple-
white and M. D. Johnson, Chicago: University of Illinois Press,
1979.
2. Anon., Women's Rights and Duties, London, 1840; excerpted in
Patricia Hollis, Women in Public; The Women's Movement 1850-1900,
London: George Alien & Unwin, 1979, p. 292. This is a most useful
selection of documents, to which I refer where possible, for ease of
access.
3. This, and the immediately following phrases: ibid, and in Hollis,
p.292.
4. 'Objections to Woman Suffrage', speech to the Electoral Refonn
Conference, London, 1874: in Hollis, p. 307.
5. 'Present Aspect of Woman's Suffrage Considered', speech to the
London National Society for Women's Suffrage, 1877: in Hollis,
p.311.
Notes and References 12]
('. Speech on Women's Disabilities Bill to thE' HQUSE' nt COImmnn.o;:
Hansard, 3 May 1871: in Hollis, p. 305.
7. Ibid, pp. 305-6.
d. Mrs Humphrey Ward et al., 'An appeal against female suffrage', The
Nineteenth Century, June 1889: and in Hollis, p. 326.
9. Ibid, p. 325.
10. Ibid, p. 325.
11. Ibid, p. 325.
12. W. E. Gladstone, letter to Mr Samuel Smith, 11 ~pril 1892: in
Hollis, p. 319.
13. J. S. Mill, Speech to the I louse of Commons, Hansilrd, 20 M.ay 1867:
in Hollis; p. 300.
14 Ibid, pp 300-1
15. Ibid, p. 301.
16. Mrs Hugo Reid, A Plea for Women, London, 1843, p. 64: in Hollis,
p.293.
17. Gladstone's letter, as above: in Hollis. p. 320.
18. In Fraser's Magazine, vo!. 78,1868: in Hollis, p. 294.
19. 'Present Aspect of Woman's Suffrage Considered', speech as above:
in Hollis, p. 310.
20. Millicent Garrett Fawcett, 'Female Suffrage: a reply', The Nitrteteenth
Century, July 1889: in Hollis, p. 331.
21. J. S. Mill, Speech to the House of Commons, Hansard, 20 May 1867:
in Hollis, p. 229.
22. Ibid, p. 229.
23. Mr Beresford Hope, Speech in the Debate on the Women's Dis-
abilities Bill, House of Commons, Hansard, 3 May 1871: . , Hollis,
p.305.
L4. Ibid, p. 306.
25. 'An appeal against female suffrage', as above: in Hollis, p. 324.
26. Ibid, p. 324.
27. Arabella Shore. 'Pre~ent A~pe,.t of Woman's Suffrage Considered'.
as above: in Hollis, p. 309.
28. ibid, p. 310.
29. 'An appeal against female suffrage', as above: in Hollis, p. 323.
30. lbid, p. 323.
31. Ibid, p. 323.
32. Harriet Taylor, 'Enfranchisement of women', Westminst", Reuiew,
vol. 55, London, 1851: in Hollis, p. 293.
33. Barbara Leigh Smith Bodichon, Reasons For and Against tlw Enfran-
chisement of Women, London, 1866: in Hollis, p. 295.
34. ). S. Mill, Speech to the House of Commons, Hansard, 20 May 1867:
in Hollis, p. 298.
35. Ibid, p. 298.
36. 'The emancipation of women', editorial in the Westminster Review,
vol. 128, 1887: in Ho\lis, p. 329.
37. 'An appeal against female suffrage', as above: in Hollis, pp_ 322-3.
38. Ibid, p. 324.
39. Ibid, p. 324.
40. W. E. Gladstone, Letter to Mr Samuel Smith, 11 April 1892: in
Hollis, p. 320.
41. J. S. Mill, as above: Hollis, p. 301.
42. Ibid, p. 300.
43. Ibid, p. 302.
44. Ibid, p. 304.
45. Captain Maxse, 'Objections to Women's Suffrage', Speech to the
Electoral Reform Conference, 1874: in Hollis, p. 307.
46. Ibid, p. 307.
47. Ibid, p. 308.
48. Ibid, p. 308.
49. Arabella Shore, 'Present Aspect of Woman's Suffrage Considered',
as above: in Hollis, p 31(1.
50. Ibid, p. 311.
51. Ibid, p. 313.
5:'. See Olive B.:Hl k!o , Faces of FemInism, Uxtord: Martin Robertson,
1981, p. 125.
53. Frank Prochaska, Women and Philanthropy in Nineteenth Century
England, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1980, p. 229.
54. Ibid, p. 229.
55. Martin Pugh, 'Politicians and the Woman's Vote, 1914-1918', His-
tory, October 1974, p. 368. Sec also his Women's Suffrage in Brit£llll
1867-1928, London: Historical Association, 1980.
56. Brian Harrison, Separate Spheres: The Opposition tn ~"l- WO·"",·,.·
{rage in Britain, London: Croom Helm, 1978, pp 60-64.
57. Ibid, p. 5I.
58. Ibid, pp. 133-6.
S9. Ernest Belfort Bax, The Fraud of Feminism, London, 1913, p. 76.
60. Quoted in Brian Harrison, Separate Sp1lrres, as above, p. 247.
61. See the discussion in Harrison, pp. 228-38.
5 Bodies, Tdentitit.''S, F('minisms
1. Oonna HarJw<1y', 'A Manifl~'jto (01 Cyburgs: Science, Technology

and Socialist Feminism in the 1980s', Socialist Review, 80, vat. 15.
no. 2, ~arch-ApriL 1985, p. 92.
2. Ibid, p. 95.
3. Simone de Beauvoir, Le Deuxieme Sexf', 1949: The Second Sex, transl.
by H. Parshley. London: Jonathiln Cape, 1953, p. 84.
4. Elizabeth Gross, 'Philosophy. 5ubjectivity, and the body: Kristeva
and Irigaray' in ~"role Pateman and Elizabeth Gross (eds), Felllill
ist Cliall~rI~e5. S,,,-'ol onn Pr,/ilirfl/ ThpC'"I/. c;y.-J"I:"}"t;. !\nr: h Un'Nin,
1986, p. 139.
:Jt.t: r.dv\'itra :jl'H)jh~r /\ l-iI~")"" ,}i V"O~.·I.I~"~ '; Er.,di(,c: ~T~,,:V York: Bil~lC
~f"')k5. ~ US:
6. Sebastiano Timpanaro, On Materialism, London: New Left Books,

1975.
7. Miehel Foucault, The History of Sexuality - Volume 1: An Introduc-
tion, trans. R. Hurley, London: Allen Lane, 1979.
8. Miehel Foucault, 'Nietzsche, Genealogy, History', in Language,
Counter-Memory, Practice: Selected Essays and Interviews, Donald F.
Bouchard and Sherry Simon (eds and transl.), Ithaca: ComelI Uni-
versity Press, 1977, p. 148.
9. Ibid, p. 153.
10. Elizabeth Gross, 'Philosophy, subjectivity, and the body: Kristeva
and lrigaray' (as above), p. 142.
11. William Empson, The Structure of Complex Words, London, 1951,
p.29.
1.2 Ibid, p. 39.
13 Ibid: see Empson's discussion of I. A. Richards, The Philosophy of
Rhetoric.
14. Julia Kristeva, 'Le temps des femmes', trans!' as 'Women's Time' by
Alice Jardine and Harry Blake, Signs, vo!. 7:1, Autumn, 1981, p. 35.
15. Ibid, P 17.
16. Ibid, p. 19.
17. Ibid, p. 20.
18. Ibid, p. 33.
19. Ibid, p, 34.
20. Ibid, p. 34.
21. Ibid, p. 35.
22. Winifred Holtby, 'Feminism Divided', Yorkshire Post, 26 July 1926,
in Testament of a Generation: Th~ Journalism of Vera Brittain and
Winifred Ho/tby, (eds and intro.) Paul Berry and Alan Bishop,
London: Virago, 1985, p. 48.
23. See Joan Seott, 'The Sears Case', in Gender and The Politics of
History, New York: Columbia University Press, forthcoming, 1988.
24. Maurice Merleau-Ponty, The Phenomenology of Perception, trans.
Colin Smith, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. 1962, p. 171.
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lVOOLF. \: .. Tilln' CUll"";' I . " ~ "; :,-,';~
"AmI That Name?"
FEMINlSM AND THE CATEGORY OF
'WOMl!N'INHISTORY
llenise Riley
"~~Rik1~~ps an originat- ~ often brilliant - approac:h
to.ll_yotptubJem in contemporary feminist scholarship; bow to
c~bine a' theorclXally sopbistica.tf:d tkCODstructive view of the
ca~~~ w#h.~potiti~ cth@Jitlilertt and engagernem.."
-N~P~J1V~U~
WbIL Js it to be..l wo.llWl sometil7J8s? Writing about temporal

~Jotbt.Jl:otiOi1 ut womanhood, Otltise Riley examines, in
tb~JD~i~ pfF9~i some Wfting historical cOJll!UVerions of
J1R_~IHtY-f~ijQMfl'iD- relation to other categories cemraJ to
. " , _ t . - . d ; {the soul ''the- ,. d' 'the I...A".' c· .
',' . .~~~. " IJdft " _. ~npawr •
e'
'ttMt.. .' t$ht~.8 '4!M"8aJ_ _ ical dja~c~ of both
'womtfQ.;.aQdimenf from changipg ideas of the human; and argues
tbal..tbe degRe to which anatomical females become 'women' -
~ sa~c.dinlheir gender - has. smc;e the late~th
ceDhar" t~ tQ~ase. lilisions between 'the social' and
'women'are eharaeteristK: of the nineteenth century and the battle
for ..the womanly vote."
FeifiinisfmoVtmeots, Riley argues, have had no choice but to
play oUt this indeterminacy of 'women,' whether consciously or
not; this ii made plain in their oscillations, since the I 790s,
betwet?l co~cepts of equality and of difference and between various
'overfeminizations' and 'underfeminizations.' To fuUy recognize
the 'aiiib.gulty of the category 'women' is no languid semantic
doubt, she says, but a condition for an effective feminist political
philosophy.
Dmi&e Riley holds a Ph.D. in philosophy and has been a
researcher or teacher in Britain, the United States, and Australia;
she haS worked at the University of East London. at Brown
University, at the Institute for Advanced Study, Princeton, md at
Griffitb University in Brisbane. She has published widely in the
history of ideas, social history, and feminist theory, and as a poet.
ISBN 0-8166-1731-7
UniversitY of Minnesota Press

Printed in Hong Kong

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What is the book about?

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"1\ltrl That Name?

Feminism and the Category of JJWomen"

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be

Third printing, 1995

Published by the University of Minnesota Press

Printed in Hong Kong

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

The University of Minnesota

1 Does a Sex Have a History? 1

2 Progresses of the Soul 18

3 The SOciai',. 'Women', and Sociological Feminism 44

4 The Womanly Vote 67

5 Bodies, Identities, Feminisms 96

Notes and References 115

Selective Bibliography 124

It is true that appeals to 'women's' needs or capacities do not, on

disengaging from the category 'women as it has wIth laying claim

tionally tom between fighting against over-feminisation and

Indeed there are no moments at which gender is utterly unvoiceu.

against th", ilttilckin.g (,rh,,,t <;1>" tht> mediileviI.1 def.·nr:-r-'c; wound to

The retort to the surfeited lover's charges is to invert them, to mass

It is a litany of pure sexual outrage:

~ impoverished education - the path chosen by Poulain de la

The most general abstractions arise only in the midst of the

identification of the sensual with the bodies of women In particu-

The existence of such elaborated typologies make is clear that

Certainly, as Peter Dronke's commentary suggests,4 the writings

But in her meditations this antithesis is transient and irregular,

When a woman is making love with a man, a sense of heat in her

Occasional flickerings of Manichean thought notwithstanding, her

An ambiguous passage in whi(:h the sense of the ferocity of feared

consigned her to a lower stratum of being, even if that being could

Although she is thought to be equally perfect in her sel', she

So the associations of deprivation with thf> rliffpTPn("PI1. nf I1.PY

Nevertheless, theology did hold out a limb of significant hope.

Most writers suggest that woman is less well endowed with

The antithetical argument sets aside this tactic of borrowing the

We cannot change the Nature of our Sex, for we cannot make

The better tactic, then, would be to pursue the feminine virtues, to

Since all terrestrial Imitations ought to Ascend to the Better, and

10 thls the tormer speaker retorts that such sentIments do

perswade us out of our Selves, as to be That, which Nature

thinks us sufficiently fortified, if out of the story of Two

The author herself resolves not to scrabble for Great Women

shall leave Pedants and School-Boys to rake and tumble the

1he, ~uthor first passionately dismisses the notion that,. writing,

ences. We may ignore with justice the historians' evidence about

never to enquire so far into themselves and their own Abilities,

Vanity and incompetence are vices generously scattered

We will therefore enquire what it is that stops your tllght, that

Let women, she pleads, only be given equal opportunities for

Dy .>uLil IIledll::. lile ... ildIlLe::. vi ::.pjliludi lelielLlI.JllUII Will HUI ue

A Prospect of Heaven, and that only will r1)T'P th"t A,...'h1·in~

In this Heaven the venerable traditions of spiritual democracy will

Superiors don't rightly understand their own Interest when they