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Living a Feminist Life
In Living a Feminist Life Sara Ahmed shows how feminist theory is generated from everyday life and the ordinary experiences of being a feminist at home and at work. Building on legacies of feminist of color scholarship in particular, Ahmed offers a poetic and personal meditation on how feminists become estranged from worlds they critique—often by naming and calling attention to problems—and how feminists learn about worlds from their efforts to transform them. Ahmed also provides her most sustained commentary on the figure of the feminist killjoy introduced in her earlier work while showing how feminists create inventive solutions—such as forming support systems—to survive the shattering experiences of facing the walls of racism and sexism. The killjoy survival kit and killjoy manifesto, with which the book concludes, supply practical tools for how to live a feminist life, thereby strengthening the ties between the inventive creation of feminist theory and living a life that sustains it.
312 pages, Hardcover
First published February 3, 2017
About the author
Sara Ahmed
40 books1,370 followersSara Ahmed is a British-Australian scholar whose area of study includes the intersection of feminist theory, lesbian feminism, queer theory, critical race theory and postcolonialism.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 344 reviews
July 5, 2018
4.5 stars
A stellar academic feminist text that delves into how feminists call attention to problems, therefore transforming the world in ways both uncomfortable and necessary. Sara Ahmed grounds her assertions with the premise that "happiness" often means conforming to problematic, patriarchal societal norms. To be a feminist, then, is to be a killjoy: someone willing to speak up against sexism, racism, ableism, transphobia, etc. even if it means detracting from people's joy. As a lesbian woman of color, Ahmed incorporates intersectionality into her analysis, examining how multiple forces of oppression intertwine to affect women of color, queer women, queer women of color, and other women at the margins in academic settings and in daily life. I have so many passages I wish I could share in this review - here is one about happiness and how it configures itself based on preexisting narratives:
"How quickly we learn: for the child, especially the girl child, her happiest day will be the moment of marrying. What I call gender fatalism is tied to happiness: Girls will be girls; girls will be happiest when they get married. Maybe that "will be" can also be heard not only as prediction but as a moral instruction: not only will she do this, but she will do this happily. The happiness path becomes a straight path: what leads you in the right way, to the right destination. So we might think today that heterosexuality is no longer the only option. But a cursory glance at images and narratives of happiness in popular culture teaches us that old investments can be sustained through minor alterations and variations in form. The happy stories for girls remain based on fairy-tale formulas: life, marriage, and reproduction, or death (of one kind or another) and misery. Maybe there are compromises; maybe there is a diversification of styles of feminine accomplishment; maybe heterosexuality can now be done in more ways than one; but the investments remain rather precise."
I so appreciate Ahmed's militancy in Living a Feminist Life. Her version of feminism - one I would recommend to for all of us - does not center civility or making polite requests. She advocates for speaking up against injustice, for breaking bridges with toxic people, and finding like-minded feminists with similar values. Her killjoy survival kit and killjoy manifesto at the end of the book both act as gems, with strategies for disrupting the status quo as well as taking care of your soul. Ahmed argues that feminism requires discomfort, and instead of running away from that discomfort, we should sit with it, examine it, and see where it can take us. Ranging from how she pushes Betty Friedan's feminism to include more intersectionality to how she describes "diversity" as a word used to avoid discussions of racism and sexism, Ahmed implores us to elevate our feminism to more radical, transformational heights. Another quote I loved, about looking beyond happiness to explore violence:
"From this everyday situation of living with the consequences of not making happiness your cause, you learn the unhappiness that happiness can cause. This first principle has been the basis of much feminist knowledge and activism: the identification of how institutions are built as promises of happiness; promises that often hide the violence of these institutions. We are willing to expose this violence: the violence of the elevation of the family, the couple form, reproductivity as the basis of a good life; the violence reproduced by organizations that identify speaking about violence as disloyalty. We will expose the happiness myths of neoliberalism and global capitalism: the fantasy that the system created for a privileged few is really about the happiness of many or the most."
Overall, I'd recommend this to anyone passionate about feminism and social justice, especially to those who like Audre Lorde and bell hooks. While Ahmed's writing can get a little wordy or repetitive at times, her insights more than make up for slight verbosity. Nothing better than celebrating July 4th with a book that will make our country more wonderful and just.
A stellar academic feminist text that delves into how feminists call attention to problems, therefore transforming the world in ways both uncomfortable and necessary. Sara Ahmed grounds her assertions with the premise that "happiness" often means conforming to problematic, patriarchal societal norms. To be a feminist, then, is to be a killjoy: someone willing to speak up against sexism, racism, ableism, transphobia, etc. even if it means detracting from people's joy. As a lesbian woman of color, Ahmed incorporates intersectionality into her analysis, examining how multiple forces of oppression intertwine to affect women of color, queer women, queer women of color, and other women at the margins in academic settings and in daily life. I have so many passages I wish I could share in this review - here is one about happiness and how it configures itself based on preexisting narratives:
"How quickly we learn: for the child, especially the girl child, her happiest day will be the moment of marrying. What I call gender fatalism is tied to happiness: Girls will be girls; girls will be happiest when they get married. Maybe that "will be" can also be heard not only as prediction but as a moral instruction: not only will she do this, but she will do this happily. The happiness path becomes a straight path: what leads you in the right way, to the right destination. So we might think today that heterosexuality is no longer the only option. But a cursory glance at images and narratives of happiness in popular culture teaches us that old investments can be sustained through minor alterations and variations in form. The happy stories for girls remain based on fairy-tale formulas: life, marriage, and reproduction, or death (of one kind or another) and misery. Maybe there are compromises; maybe there is a diversification of styles of feminine accomplishment; maybe heterosexuality can now be done in more ways than one; but the investments remain rather precise."
I so appreciate Ahmed's militancy in Living a Feminist Life. Her version of feminism - one I would recommend to for all of us - does not center civility or making polite requests. She advocates for speaking up against injustice, for breaking bridges with toxic people, and finding like-minded feminists with similar values. Her killjoy survival kit and killjoy manifesto at the end of the book both act as gems, with strategies for disrupting the status quo as well as taking care of your soul. Ahmed argues that feminism requires discomfort, and instead of running away from that discomfort, we should sit with it, examine it, and see where it can take us. Ranging from how she pushes Betty Friedan's feminism to include more intersectionality to how she describes "diversity" as a word used to avoid discussions of racism and sexism, Ahmed implores us to elevate our feminism to more radical, transformational heights. Another quote I loved, about looking beyond happiness to explore violence:
"From this everyday situation of living with the consequences of not making happiness your cause, you learn the unhappiness that happiness can cause. This first principle has been the basis of much feminist knowledge and activism: the identification of how institutions are built as promises of happiness; promises that often hide the violence of these institutions. We are willing to expose this violence: the violence of the elevation of the family, the couple form, reproductivity as the basis of a good life; the violence reproduced by organizations that identify speaking about violence as disloyalty. We will expose the happiness myths of neoliberalism and global capitalism: the fantasy that the system created for a privileged few is really about the happiness of many or the most."
Overall, I'd recommend this to anyone passionate about feminism and social justice, especially to those who like Audre Lorde and bell hooks. While Ahmed's writing can get a little wordy or repetitive at times, her insights more than make up for slight verbosity. Nothing better than celebrating July 4th with a book that will make our country more wonderful and just.
August 29, 2020
I love Sara Ahmed and I love everything she says in this book, but it is too loaded with academic jargon and unnecessary and overwrought symbols. It seemed like a series of academic articles stitched together--all of which needed a bit of editing. So 5 stars on content, but 1 star on editing and style. I know that's unfair, but it should not have been this hard and painful to get through a book like this.
February 26, 2020
Living a Feminist Life by Sara Ahmed is not a book about feminist theory; rather, it's about the experiences of feminists in real life. How we are perceived as making trouble when everything is "supposedly" fine and dandy, how our pointing out sexism and/or racism is judged as a wish to direct attention to ourselves, and how eyes roll when we dare to protest injustice and oppression.
Here she goes again
The author's writing took me a while to get used to because it's more on the lyrical and poetic side, which is a style unfamiliar to me. However, I have soon come to appreciate its beauty and poignancy. Indeed, Ahmed's prose is raw, honest, and heart-felt. I found myself moved to tears when she described incidents of sexual harassment; her father accusing her of being "sick in the head" because she is a lesbian, and how he used to beat her as a child; and the walls and resistance she encountered while doing diversity work, to name a few.
"Sexual harassment works—as does bullying more generally—by increasing the costs of fighting against something, making it easier to accept something than to struggle against something, even if that acceptance is itself the site of your own diminishment; how you end up taking up less and less space.
...It is happening all around you, and yet people seem to be getting on with it. You can end up doubting yourself, estranged from yourself. Maybe then you try not to have a problem. But you are left with a sickening feeling."
I don't think I can articulate how grateful I am for having read this book. It has often been the case that I do indeed find myself decrying horrors that should never exist in a civilized world, to be met with absolute indifference. Even when one is somehow dedicated to equality and social justice, they soon disappear when another describes themselves as a "feminist", as if it's a dirty word, as if feminism is synonymous with female supremacy. Attempts to correct this erroneous understanding usually go unheeded. Misinformation is all that matters.
"A killjoy might first recognize herself in that feeling of loneliness: of being cut off from others, from how they assemble around happiness. She knows, because she has been there: to be unseated by the tables of happiness can be to find yourself in that shadowy place, to find yourself alone, on your own. It might be that many pass through the figure of the killjoy and quickly out again because they find her a hard place to be; not to be surrounded by the warmth of others, the quiet murmurs that accompany an agreement."
Living a Feminist Life does not explain what feminism is, or why we still need it. It is, as Ahmed frequently repeats, a call to arms:
"To make a manifesto out of the killjoy means being willing to give to others the support you received or wish you received. Maybe you are in a conversation, at home or at work, and one person, one person out of many, is speaking out. Don’t let her speak on her own. Back her up; speak with her. Stand by her; stand with her. From these public moments of solidarity so much is brought into existence. We are creating a support system around the killjoy; we are finding ways to allow her to do what she does, to be who she is."
Chapters touching on racism, ableism, homophobia, and transphobia were particularly stimulating as I'm not very knowledgeable in these subjects. The Killjoy manifesto was absolute brilliance, and I shall go back to it frequently, lovingly, as the years go by. This is a depressing book: I have often felt the futility of our cause and the walls that keep coming up, but there is also hope:
"…walls as a stark image of sovereign power are reminders of a failed sovereignty. A border is instituted most violently when it is under threat."
I also loved the discussions revolving around certain feminist books and movies, especially A Question of Silence. My TBR list and my to-watch list have grown quite dramatically.
"When a whole world is organized to promote your survival, from health to education, to the walls designed to keep your residence safe, to the paths that ease your travel, you do not have become so inventive to survive. You do not have to be seen as the recipient of welfare because the world has promoted your welfare. The benefits you receive are given as entitlements, perhaps even as birthrights. This is why I describe privilege as a buffer zone; it is how much you have to fall back on when you lose something. Privilege does not mean we are invulnerable: things happen; shit happens. Privilege can however reduce the costs of vulnerability; you are more likely to be looked after.
..
Being poor, being black, being of color puts your life at risk. Your health is compromised when you do not have the external resources to support a life in all of its contingencies. And then of course, you are deemed responsible for your own ill health, for your own failure to look after yourself better. When you refer to structures, to systems, to power relations, to walls, you are assumed to be making others responsible for the situation you have failed to get yourself out of. “You should have tried harder.” Oh, the violence and the smugness of this sentence, this sentencing."
Thank you, Sara Ahmed, for being a source of light and hope within this abject blackness; for extending your arm to us so that we may be uplifted, encouraged, and supported. To anyone fighting for social justice or engaging in anti-discrimination work, Living a Feminist Life will become a crucial component in their survival tool-kit. It is the first book in mine.
Here she goes again
The author's writing took me a while to get used to because it's more on the lyrical and poetic side, which is a style unfamiliar to me. However, I have soon come to appreciate its beauty and poignancy. Indeed, Ahmed's prose is raw, honest, and heart-felt. I found myself moved to tears when she described incidents of sexual harassment; her father accusing her of being "sick in the head" because she is a lesbian, and how he used to beat her as a child; and the walls and resistance she encountered while doing diversity work, to name a few.
"Sexual harassment works—as does bullying more generally—by increasing the costs of fighting against something, making it easier to accept something than to struggle against something, even if that acceptance is itself the site of your own diminishment; how you end up taking up less and less space.
...It is happening all around you, and yet people seem to be getting on with it. You can end up doubting yourself, estranged from yourself. Maybe then you try not to have a problem. But you are left with a sickening feeling."
"It is hard labor to recognize sadness and disappointment when you are living a life that is meant to be happy but is not happy, which is meant to be full but feels empty. It is difficult to give up an idea of one’s life when one has lived one’s life according to that idea."
I don't think I can articulate how grateful I am for having read this book. It has often been the case that I do indeed find myself decrying horrors that should never exist in a civilized world, to be met with absolute indifference. Even when one is somehow dedicated to equality and social justice, they soon disappear when another describes themselves as a "feminist", as if it's a dirty word, as if feminism is synonymous with female supremacy. Attempts to correct this erroneous understanding usually go unheeded. Misinformation is all that matters.
"A killjoy might first recognize herself in that feeling of loneliness: of being cut off from others, from how they assemble around happiness. She knows, because she has been there: to be unseated by the tables of happiness can be to find yourself in that shadowy place, to find yourself alone, on your own. It might be that many pass through the figure of the killjoy and quickly out again because they find her a hard place to be; not to be surrounded by the warmth of others, the quiet murmurs that accompany an agreement."
Living a Feminist Life does not explain what feminism is, or why we still need it. It is, as Ahmed frequently repeats, a call to arms:
"To make a manifesto out of the killjoy means being willing to give to others the support you received or wish you received. Maybe you are in a conversation, at home or at work, and one person, one person out of many, is speaking out. Don’t let her speak on her own. Back her up; speak with her. Stand by her; stand with her. From these public moments of solidarity so much is brought into existence. We are creating a support system around the killjoy; we are finding ways to allow her to do what she does, to be who she is."
Chapters touching on racism, ableism, homophobia, and transphobia were particularly stimulating as I'm not very knowledgeable in these subjects. The Killjoy manifesto was absolute brilliance, and I shall go back to it frequently, lovingly, as the years go by. This is a depressing book: I have often felt the futility of our cause and the walls that keep coming up, but there is also hope:
"…walls as a stark image of sovereign power are reminders of a failed sovereignty. A border is instituted most violently when it is under threat."
I also loved the discussions revolving around certain feminist books and movies, especially A Question of Silence. My TBR list and my to-watch list have grown quite dramatically.
"When a whole world is organized to promote your survival, from health to education, to the walls designed to keep your residence safe, to the paths that ease your travel, you do not have become so inventive to survive. You do not have to be seen as the recipient of welfare because the world has promoted your welfare. The benefits you receive are given as entitlements, perhaps even as birthrights. This is why I describe privilege as a buffer zone; it is how much you have to fall back on when you lose something. Privilege does not mean we are invulnerable: things happen; shit happens. Privilege can however reduce the costs of vulnerability; you are more likely to be looked after.
..
Being poor, being black, being of color puts your life at risk. Your health is compromised when you do not have the external resources to support a life in all of its contingencies. And then of course, you are deemed responsible for your own ill health, for your own failure to look after yourself better. When you refer to structures, to systems, to power relations, to walls, you are assumed to be making others responsible for the situation you have failed to get yourself out of. “You should have tried harder.” Oh, the violence and the smugness of this sentence, this sentencing."
Thank you, Sara Ahmed, for being a source of light and hope within this abject blackness; for extending your arm to us so that we may be uplifted, encouraged, and supported. To anyone fighting for social justice or engaging in anti-discrimination work, Living a Feminist Life will become a crucial component in their survival tool-kit. It is the first book in mine.
"From a shattering, a story can be told, one that finds in fragility the source of a connection."
December 4, 2020
Preamble:
--So, during this semi-lockdown winter I’ve been binging on videos by Mexie (check out her fabulous Youtube videos and podcast), and inspired by her balance of:
a) structural/materialist analysis (i.e. political economy, political ecology, Earth Systems science), with
b) cultural analysis (i.e. intersectionality, including critiquing speciesism, ableism, etc.)
--Now, we all have our part to play, and I do not feel too guilty burying myself in volumes of structural analysis/systems-thinking. However, structural analysis does tend to set aside certain cultural factors as intangibles, so this needs to be balanced out:
a) bell hooks, Angela Y. Davis, and Audre Lorde have provided sound foundations.
b) Of course I was impressed with Silvia Federici, Nancy Folbre, and Feminist Marxism/Social Reproduction Theory taking the structural analysis of political economy (which I thought I was familiar with) and turning it on its head.
c) The other recommendation I took from Mexie, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants, blew me away…
The Miss:
--This book was briefly mentioned, and I decided to jump in since it looks accessible. The author tries to bring feminist critical theory to the everyday. If it was academic critical theory, I would have set it aside.
--The more-accessible language, everyday scenarios and popular literature references were much appreciated, and I felt like I was getting somewhere with Ahmed’s construction of the feminist killjoy to deconstruct the status quo.
…However, even the remnants of critical theory (in the form of constant word-play) were a distraction. I need to give this style of analysis/delivery more practice. Language is already imprecise, so for every connecting-the-dots moment there was another moment of wondering what to make of a tangled mess. There is much unfamiliar ground between rigorous analysis and spontaneous poetry.
...In the end, the content resembled Lorde's Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches, but the delivery was somewhat a miss for me.
--So, during this semi-lockdown winter I’ve been binging on videos by Mexie (check out her fabulous Youtube videos and podcast), and inspired by her balance of:
a) structural/materialist analysis (i.e. political economy, political ecology, Earth Systems science), with
b) cultural analysis (i.e. intersectionality, including critiquing speciesism, ableism, etc.)
--Now, we all have our part to play, and I do not feel too guilty burying myself in volumes of structural analysis/systems-thinking. However, structural analysis does tend to set aside certain cultural factors as intangibles, so this needs to be balanced out:
a) bell hooks, Angela Y. Davis, and Audre Lorde have provided sound foundations.
b) Of course I was impressed with Silvia Federici, Nancy Folbre, and Feminist Marxism/Social Reproduction Theory taking the structural analysis of political economy (which I thought I was familiar with) and turning it on its head.
c) The other recommendation I took from Mexie, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants, blew me away…
The Miss:
--This book was briefly mentioned, and I decided to jump in since it looks accessible. The author tries to bring feminist critical theory to the everyday. If it was academic critical theory, I would have set it aside.
--The more-accessible language, everyday scenarios and popular literature references were much appreciated, and I felt like I was getting somewhere with Ahmed’s construction of the feminist killjoy to deconstruct the status quo.
…However, even the remnants of critical theory (in the form of constant word-play) were a distraction. I need to give this style of analysis/delivery more practice. Language is already imprecise, so for every connecting-the-dots moment there was another moment of wondering what to make of a tangled mess. There is much unfamiliar ground between rigorous analysis and spontaneous poetry.
...In the end, the content resembled Lorde's Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches, but the delivery was somewhat a miss for me.
February 23, 2017
Living a Feminist Life demonstrates how feminist theory grows out of daily life, how taking the words of daily life, lifting them up and inspecting them from all sides brings deeper understanding of how the world is structured, how oppression is given force through expectations and demands to be happy, accommodating, kind, willing and helpful. How being feminist requires us to be assert our will, for example, to be willful in truth. But willful is pejorative while strong-willed is not…and you are reminded of all the ways what is good in a man is unwelcome in a woman.
Sara Ahmed spinning the fabric of feminism reminded me of my grandmother who grew her own flax, harvested it, spun it into thread, wove it into fabric and made her own linens. Like my grandmother, Ahmed harvest her personal experiences, spins them into understandings and weaves them into theory. There is something organic in her approach, drawing from her experiences as a woman, as a woman of color, as a queer woman of color.
Reading Living a Feminist Life was timely. Just this week, the local NAACP rescinded its endorsement of the Portland Women’s March on January 28th because the organizers said that talking about the issues affecting immigrant women, Muslim women, queer women, and women of color is “too political” and took to deleting the comments on the Facebook organizing page demanding inclusion. Reaction has been what one expects with white defensiveness and anger such as “it wasn’t YOUR march to begin with.” Again and again, Ahmed’s perspective deepened my understanding of what was happening right here, right now When Ahmed wrote that perceiving women of color contributions as interruptions defines feminism as centered on white women, a conversation that is not theirs. When Ahmed wrote about willfulness, that was so obvious what is happening here, being unwilling to be excluded is perceived as being willful. When new organizers were brought in after the NAACP voted, Ahmed’s writing about how appointments can be about appearances, that being willing to appoint someone is not the same as being willing to be transformed. Reading Living a Feminist Life has been like a commentary on this local issue.
I think this book is important and insightful enough to merit five stars, but I offer some caveats. I am a straight, white woman who is not overly defensive about my whiteness. I believe that just as I can’t swim in a pool without getting wet, I cannot grow up white in America without getting a little bit racist–and I accept my job is to limit the damage and work to counter racism as much as I can. But still, I felt uncomfortable from time to time, wondering where is my place in feminism if my presence makes it so difficult for women of color to express their feminism. There’s a lot of stepping aside we need to be doing while stepping up in support of women of color and queer women and others who experience sexist oppression through more than one lens. We know this, but knowing does not make it easy to do.
Ahmed is not here to make us comfortable, but to make us think, to make us go beyond thinking to acting to becoming what she calls a killjoy. We need to be willing to kill some joy. OK. Believe me, it makes sense when you read it.
The one thing I found most difficult about Living a Feminist Life is Ahmed’s love of chiasmus. Sometimes it was to good effect, sometimes it just was silly. Since I read an advance galley which could be changed in the final copy, I can’t quote directly, but when she wrote about affect aliens and alien affects I just said, “huh?” What is an affect alien? I still don’t know. Most of the time, her chiasmus are less bizarre, sometimes they are even profound, but I found it often would interrupt my reading and I would note that yet again, a figure of speech was performing as theory, as insight, and it was disappointing. She has much to say that is original and valuable and this writing tic detracts from her effectiveness.
I appreciated Ahmed’s transforming everyday words that we don’t think about, words like willful, arm, wall, and snap and making us think more deeply and see them as something profound, something activist and powerful. But this is a book that demands a lot of the reader, active engagement, an open mind, a lack of defensiveness, a willingness (oh my!) to be poked a few times, to be taken to uncomfortable places. It is, I think, going to be much more meaningful to women of color and to queer women of color in particular, but white women should read it, too, because sometimes we are the problem and we need to hear it and do better.
Living a Feminist Life will be released February 3rd, 2017. I was provided an advance e-galley by the publisher through NetGalley.
https://tonstantweaderreviews.wordpre...
Sara Ahmed spinning the fabric of feminism reminded me of my grandmother who grew her own flax, harvested it, spun it into thread, wove it into fabric and made her own linens. Like my grandmother, Ahmed harvest her personal experiences, spins them into understandings and weaves them into theory. There is something organic in her approach, drawing from her experiences as a woman, as a woman of color, as a queer woman of color.
Reading Living a Feminist Life was timely. Just this week, the local NAACP rescinded its endorsement of the Portland Women’s March on January 28th because the organizers said that talking about the issues affecting immigrant women, Muslim women, queer women, and women of color is “too political” and took to deleting the comments on the Facebook organizing page demanding inclusion. Reaction has been what one expects with white defensiveness and anger such as “it wasn’t YOUR march to begin with.” Again and again, Ahmed’s perspective deepened my understanding of what was happening right here, right now When Ahmed wrote that perceiving women of color contributions as interruptions defines feminism as centered on white women, a conversation that is not theirs. When Ahmed wrote about willfulness, that was so obvious what is happening here, being unwilling to be excluded is perceived as being willful. When new organizers were brought in after the NAACP voted, Ahmed’s writing about how appointments can be about appearances, that being willing to appoint someone is not the same as being willing to be transformed. Reading Living a Feminist Life has been like a commentary on this local issue.
I think this book is important and insightful enough to merit five stars, but I offer some caveats. I am a straight, white woman who is not overly defensive about my whiteness. I believe that just as I can’t swim in a pool without getting wet, I cannot grow up white in America without getting a little bit racist–and I accept my job is to limit the damage and work to counter racism as much as I can. But still, I felt uncomfortable from time to time, wondering where is my place in feminism if my presence makes it so difficult for women of color to express their feminism. There’s a lot of stepping aside we need to be doing while stepping up in support of women of color and queer women and others who experience sexist oppression through more than one lens. We know this, but knowing does not make it easy to do.
Ahmed is not here to make us comfortable, but to make us think, to make us go beyond thinking to acting to becoming what she calls a killjoy. We need to be willing to kill some joy. OK. Believe me, it makes sense when you read it.
The one thing I found most difficult about Living a Feminist Life is Ahmed’s love of chiasmus. Sometimes it was to good effect, sometimes it just was silly. Since I read an advance galley which could be changed in the final copy, I can’t quote directly, but when she wrote about affect aliens and alien affects I just said, “huh?” What is an affect alien? I still don’t know. Most of the time, her chiasmus are less bizarre, sometimes they are even profound, but I found it often would interrupt my reading and I would note that yet again, a figure of speech was performing as theory, as insight, and it was disappointing. She has much to say that is original and valuable and this writing tic detracts from her effectiveness.
I appreciated Ahmed’s transforming everyday words that we don’t think about, words like willful, arm, wall, and snap and making us think more deeply and see them as something profound, something activist and powerful. But this is a book that demands a lot of the reader, active engagement, an open mind, a lack of defensiveness, a willingness (oh my!) to be poked a few times, to be taken to uncomfortable places. It is, I think, going to be much more meaningful to women of color and to queer women of color in particular, but white women should read it, too, because sometimes we are the problem and we need to hear it and do better.
Living a Feminist Life will be released February 3rd, 2017. I was provided an advance e-galley by the publisher through NetGalley.
https://tonstantweaderreviews.wordpre...
August 6, 2020
A few remarks. Ahmed is someone who writes what she knows well. Some people find her writing style ''poor,'' not me; I find it really interesting. She plays with words, rhythm and pace, and says what words hide. She does not run from one point to another, but she stays with a single point, image, word, and she comes back to it again and again, each time bringing something new to it. She dwells on the words such as ''arm,'' happiness,'' ''walls'' ''killjoy'' and ''path''in ways that make her arguments not only exciting but also palpable.
Even though she writes about ''kill joy'' things and for very good reasons, her work only gives joy.
Even though she writes about ''kill joy'' things and for very good reasons, her work only gives joy.
June 28, 2018
چیزی که درباره این کتاب دوست داشتم این بود که هم یه جورایی مقدمه ای بود بر خود فمنیسم، هم تلاش کرده بود این بحث ها رو توی زندگی روزمره بیاره، و هم گریزی زده بود به بحث های متاخرتر در این حوزه. خیلی هم همه چیز رو سعی کرده بود ساده و غیرآکادمیک توضیح بده. یه جایی اول های کتاب میگه که این اخطار رو بهتون بدم که بعد از خوندن این کتاب، بدون اینکه دست خودتون باشه به همه چیز حساستر میشید و احتمالا خیلی بیشتر از قبل نسبت به موضوعات جنسیت زده و نژاد پرستانه و طبقاتی واکنش نشون میدین و اعصابتون خورد میشه. من خودم فک میکردم داره اغراق میکنه، ولی اعتراف میکنم که اصلا از بعدش یه آدم دیگه ای شدم. قشنگ میفهمم چیزهایی که قبلا به راحتی از کنارشون رد میشدم، الان میره روی مخم و به قول معروف چشمام باز شده. یه خوبی دیگه اش این بود که باعث شد بفهمم خیلی از تقلاها و دغدغه هایی که از بچگی تا الان داشتم، یه جور اعتراض فمنیستی بوده درواقع که داشته سرکوب میشده و خودم نمیفهمیدم. این تیکه اش خیلی رهایی بخش بود به واقع. یه جایی خودش در تعریف این کتاب میگه که آدم بعضی وقت ها همه چیز رو هم میدونه و تشخیص میده ها، از سیستم نابرابر گرفته تا درگیری خودش و اطرافیانش، اما نمیدونه چه طور توصیفشون کنه، چه طور به زبونشون و بیاره و راجع بهشون بحث کنه، در نتیجه این کتاب میخواد کمک کنه بتونید احساساتتون رو در قالب کلمات به زبون بیارید. مثلا یه مثال بخوام ازش بزنم، میگه که هر وقت دیدین بعد از تذکری که توی جمع دادین (مثلا به خاطر یه حرف نژاد پرستانه، یا یه شوخی جنسیتی یا هرچی)، و دیدین که همه پشت چشم نازک کردن (rolling their eyes)، بدونید که حرف فمنیستی زدین. یعنی خود اون پشت چشم نازک کردن و اینکه میگن حالا یه شوخی بود و حالا گیر نده مگه چی گفتیم، اینا نشونه اینه که حرف شما درست بوده و زده به هدف. نمیدونید چقدر همین یه حرف ساده رو من توی این مدت به عینه تجربه کردم. یا یه جای دیگه میگه که بدونید که از مهمترین چیزها برای فمنیست شدن، اینه که نخواید همه ازتون راضی بشن و جرات داشته باشید بهشون تذکر بدین، چیزی که من خودم شدیدا ازش رنج میبرم. کنار همه اینا، این واقعیت که نویسنده خودش اصالتا پاکستانی هست، و برای همین نگاه مثبتی به مسلمون ها و رنگین پوست ها داره، و اصلا همون اول میگه که خاله ی مسلمونش که توی پاکستان زندگی میکنه، اولین زن فمنیستی هست که در زندگیش شناخته و سفیدها همیشه فکر میکنن خودشون هستن که فقط از این چیزا سر در میارن، خیلی حس خوبی بهم داد. یه چیز دیگه که راجع به این کتاب دوست داشتم این بود که خیلی قشنگ نشون میده که فمنیسم فقط درباره جنسیت نیست (تصور اشتباهی که خیلی از ماها به خصوص توی ایران پیدا میکنیم)، بلکه به طور کلی راجع به هرگونه تبعیض از جمله نسبت به نژاد و
گرایش جنسی، طبقه و دین و غیره است. دقیقا همین نکته است که باعث میشه بگم این کتاب لزوما برای خانوم ها مفید نیست، به همون اندازه که برای زنان میتونه مفید باشه، برای آقایون هم به درد میخوره. واقعا مهم هست که بفهمیم تعریف فمنیسم، برابر با فیلم های تهمینه میلانی که همیشه یه دختری داره با مردان "حیوان صفت" مبارزه میکنه نیست.
دیگه نمیخوام بیشتز از این کتاب رو لو بدم، میذارم که خودتون بخونید. اینو فقط بگم که قبل از این کتاب، شخصا مطالعه دیگه ای راجع به فمنیسم نداشتم، و این کتاب رو شروع خوبی برای ورود به این حوزه دیدم. کلی هم کتاب معرفی میکنه برای مطالعه بیشتر.
راجع به متن انگلیسی هم بگم که خود متن سخت نیست، یه سری کلمه داره که همون اول اگر معنیشون رو در بیارید تا آخر کارتون راه میفته. اما یه جاهایی (به خصو دو سه فصل آخر)، زیادی استعاری و پیچیده حرف میزنه که از همین الان بدونید مشکل از زبانتون نیست، تقصیر نویسنده است از نظر من :))) . دیگه اینکه عجله نداشته باشید که کتاب رو تموم کنید، یعنی شده هر ماه یه فصلش رو بخونید هم خیلی خوبه، چون هر فصل به طور جداگانه کلی حرف داره بزنه، ولی توصیه میکنم که هر فصل رو خیلی کش ندین و تا میتونید یک نفس بخونیدش که قشنگ مطلب جا بیفته.
دیگه همین دیگه. ایشالله که استفاده کنید از کتاب.
گرایش جنسی، طبقه و دین و غیره است. دقیقا همین نکته است که باعث میشه بگم این کتاب لزوما برای خانوم ها مفید نیست، به همون اندازه که برای زنان میتونه مفید باشه، برای آقایون هم به درد میخوره. واقعا مهم هست که بفهمیم تعریف فمنیسم، برابر با فیلم های تهمینه میلانی که همیشه یه دختری داره با مردان "حیوان صفت" مبارزه میکنه نیست.
دیگه نمیخوام بیشتز از این کتاب رو لو بدم، میذارم که خودتون بخونید. اینو فقط بگم که قبل از این کتاب، شخصا مطالعه دیگه ای راجع به فمنیسم نداشتم، و این کتاب رو شروع خوبی برای ورود به این حوزه دیدم. کلی هم کتاب معرفی میکنه برای مطالعه بیشتر.
راجع به متن انگلیسی هم بگم که خود متن سخت نیست، یه سری کلمه داره که همون اول اگر معنیشون رو در بیارید تا آخر کارتون راه میفته. اما یه جاهایی (به خصو دو سه فصل آخر)، زیادی استعاری و پیچیده حرف میزنه که از همین الان بدونید مشکل از زبانتون نیست، تقصیر نویسنده است از نظر من :))) . دیگه اینکه عجله نداشته باشید که کتاب رو تموم کنید، یعنی شده هر ماه یه فصلش رو بخونید هم خیلی خوبه، چون هر فصل به طور جداگانه کلی حرف داره بزنه، ولی توصیه میکنم که هر فصل رو خیلی کش ندین و تا میتونید یک نفس بخونیدش که قشنگ مطلب جا بیفته.
دیگه همین دیگه. ایشالله که استفاده کنید از کتاب.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 18, 2017
This is by far one of the best works of feminist theory I have ever read, and that's coming from a long-term student of women's studies. This book has it all: transfeminism as the political heir of lesbian feminism, direct relevance for loved experience, a defense of killing joy, a genre-defying form, and all framed though women of color feminism.
For those already familiar with Ahmed's oeuvre, this is some repetition of the key themes of all her major texts here. But this is not a weakness; she clarifies and distillate all of her arguments, develops them further, and applies them to concrete examples.
This book made me excited to do feminist theory again! Also, it's worth considering that Ahmed was only able to write such a fantastic book after having voluntarily resigned from her academic post. As she argues in the text, universities, lauded as sites of academic freedom, often work shut down and silence critical feminist discussions. Ahmed is a feminist theoretician who practices what she preaches. This work is a testament to that and a guide to follow.
For those already familiar with Ahmed's oeuvre, this is some repetition of the key themes of all her major texts here. But this is not a weakness; she clarifies and distillate all of her arguments, develops them further, and applies them to concrete examples.
This book made me excited to do feminist theory again! Also, it's worth considering that Ahmed was only able to write such a fantastic book after having voluntarily resigned from her academic post. As she argues in the text, universities, lauded as sites of academic freedom, often work shut down and silence critical feminist discussions. Ahmed is a feminist theoretician who practices what she preaches. This work is a testament to that and a guide to follow.
July 3, 2017
I was really looking forward to reading this book, but after reading the introduction I am completely put off by the redundant writing style. Just within the intro I was tripped up multiple times thinking I had accidentally re-read the same sentence, but in fact Ahmed had repeated the same words twice (or more) within a sentence with a very minor adjustment that didn't add to her point. It just has no flow and is poorly written, sorry.
June 10, 2018
Ahmed's work continues to illustrate and illuminate the joys of being a killjoy: to refuse happiness when happiness means complicity in structural exclusion and violence. It took me exactly one year to read Living a Feminist Life because, I think, it's a manifesto that I wanted to consistently be present in my life. It's going to be a staple of my survival kit.
November 14, 2018
The core of this book was good. It was informative but extremely wordy and a difficult read. You can easily edit one third of this book out and get the same message.
October 8, 2017
Disclosure: I received a digital review copy from NetGalley
I couldn't make it through the introduction, no big deal, I don't think EVERYONE reads them anyway... but in this case it should have been a sign. I felt like the writing was all over the place and lacked coherence between paragraphs to tie it all together.
In chapter 1 the author runs us through what makes a feminist in her opinion, and it isn't anywhere near comprehensive enough in my own humble opinion. It would seem for the author that to become a feminist one simply has to be the victim of sexual harassment or to be subjected to racism. This is not particularly how I came to realize I was a feminist and I can't be it being the moment that started it all for every self-styled feminist out there. The author calls feminism sensationalist - which being in the possession of a dictionary is a really poor choice of word, as to me it seems to reduce feminism to something very superficial.
The author indicates that she came to feminist studies by way of Philosophy and English studies and that she was most marked by a professor who was trained in the Lacanian school of thought - Maybe this is the source of my issues with the book... then again maybe not, although everything I've read labeled as feminist (albeit western in origin) seems built around the Foucauldian model of thought.
And then I just couldn't finish Chapter 2 and called it a day. I don't like to leave books unfinished, and am truly disappointed that a book I was looking forward to was a bust - but can't read all the books in the world now can I!
This may be of use to someone who feels completely isolated, ostracized after they have identified themselves as being feminist. But I fear that anyone would take advice from the first two chapters as they would have you "turn off" that part of your brain when needed, and that equate feminism to a garment...
I couldn't make it through the introduction, no big deal, I don't think EVERYONE reads them anyway... but in this case it should have been a sign. I felt like the writing was all over the place and lacked coherence between paragraphs to tie it all together.
In chapter 1 the author runs us through what makes a feminist in her opinion, and it isn't anywhere near comprehensive enough in my own humble opinion. It would seem for the author that to become a feminist one simply has to be the victim of sexual harassment or to be subjected to racism. This is not particularly how I came to realize I was a feminist and I can't be it being the moment that started it all for every self-styled feminist out there. The author calls feminism sensationalist - which being in the possession of a dictionary is a really poor choice of word, as to me it seems to reduce feminism to something very superficial.
The author indicates that she came to feminist studies by way of Philosophy and English studies and that she was most marked by a professor who was trained in the Lacanian school of thought - Maybe this is the source of my issues with the book... then again maybe not, although everything I've read labeled as feminist (albeit western in origin) seems built around the Foucauldian model of thought.
And then I just couldn't finish Chapter 2 and called it a day. I don't like to leave books unfinished, and am truly disappointed that a book I was looking forward to was a bust - but can't read all the books in the world now can I!
This may be of use to someone who feels completely isolated, ostracized after they have identified themselves as being feminist. But I fear that anyone would take advice from the first two chapters as they would have you "turn off" that part of your brain when needed, and that equate feminism to a garment...
December 13, 2017
this is one of the few books that moved me 2 tears bc it was so damn poignant and gave word to experiences, family histories and bonds that i did not have before.
sara ahmed is my no 1 academic crush i am in love with her writing
sara ahmed is my no 1 academic crush i am in love with her writing
April 15, 2017
Living a Feminist Life by Sarah Ahmed is an academic feminist text that takes theory and puts it into practice. In my time at university, I have read a lot of feminist theorists, and learned a lot of really important things about how to view institutionalised sexism and how to view the world in an intersectional light. However, I have never before read a non-fiction text that so beautifully and accurately describes what it really means to act as a feminist. Not to think like a feminist, but what it is like to stand up to people who are screaming for you to be silenced.
"Through feminism you make sense of wrongs; you realise that you are not in the wrong. But when you speak of something as being wrong, you end up being in the wrong all over again. The sensation of being wronged can thus end up magnified: you feel wronged by being perceived in the wrong just for pointing out something is wrong. It is frustrating! And then your frustration can be taken as evidence of your frustration, that you speak this way, about this or that, because you are frustrated. It is frustrating to be heard as frustrated; it can make you angry that you are heard as angry. Or if you are angry about something and you are heard as an angry person (an angry black feminist or an angry woman of colour), then what you are angry about disappears, which can make you feel even angrier. If feminism allows us to redirect our emotions towards different objects, our emotions can become their objects. We are dismissed as emotional. It is enough to make you emotional" (38).
The feminism in this book is undeniably intersectional. Throughout, there are discussions of antiracism, queer theory, and to a lesser extent, disability. Ahmed often includes her own experiences as a lesbian feminist of colour, which are always pertinent and interesting. The second part of the text is particularly significant, as it focuses on how diversity can be a more ‘palatable’ word for racism and sexism, as well as the role of diversity workers within universities. The denigration of female professors, particularly those of colour, is illustrated through various anecdotes. Ahmed explores the constant under-estimation of female professors, and the institutionalised sexism that still exists in academia today. Furthermore, the exhaustion of constantly fighting for the right to exist in an academic setting is explored. All of this is beautifully compared to variety of traditional feminist texts, such as Mrs Dalloway, Audre Lorde, and the writings of George Eliot. The Grimm’s fairytale of The Willful Child is also repeated throughout – a silent symbol of feminists who will not be stopped.
Ahmed concludes the text with the Feminist Killjoy Manifesto, a document that attempts to expose the existing violence of institutionalised sexism, and to disturb those who are willing to progress their careers through an academic institution that constantly depreciates the contributions of women.
I am not willing to make happiness my cause
I am willing to cause unhappiness
I am willing to support others who are willing to cause unhappiness
I am not willing to laugh at jokes designed to cause offense
I am not willing to get over histories that are not over
I am not willing to be included if inclusion means being included in a system that is unjust, violent, and unequal
I am willing to live a life that is deemed by others as unhappy and I am willing to reject or to widen scripts available for what counts as a good life
I am willing to put the ‘hap’ back into happiness
I am willing to snap any bonds, however precious, when those bonds are damaging to myself or to others
I am willing to participate in a killjoy movement
According to Ahmed, to be a feminist killjoy, and to live a feminist life, is to take the eyes that roll at us and make it our pedagogy. Watch us roll.
"Through feminism you make sense of wrongs; you realise that you are not in the wrong. But when you speak of something as being wrong, you end up being in the wrong all over again. The sensation of being wronged can thus end up magnified: you feel wronged by being perceived in the wrong just for pointing out something is wrong. It is frustrating! And then your frustration can be taken as evidence of your frustration, that you speak this way, about this or that, because you are frustrated. It is frustrating to be heard as frustrated; it can make you angry that you are heard as angry. Or if you are angry about something and you are heard as an angry person (an angry black feminist or an angry woman of colour), then what you are angry about disappears, which can make you feel even angrier. If feminism allows us to redirect our emotions towards different objects, our emotions can become their objects. We are dismissed as emotional. It is enough to make you emotional" (38).
The feminism in this book is undeniably intersectional. Throughout, there are discussions of antiracism, queer theory, and to a lesser extent, disability. Ahmed often includes her own experiences as a lesbian feminist of colour, which are always pertinent and interesting. The second part of the text is particularly significant, as it focuses on how diversity can be a more ‘palatable’ word for racism and sexism, as well as the role of diversity workers within universities. The denigration of female professors, particularly those of colour, is illustrated through various anecdotes. Ahmed explores the constant under-estimation of female professors, and the institutionalised sexism that still exists in academia today. Furthermore, the exhaustion of constantly fighting for the right to exist in an academic setting is explored. All of this is beautifully compared to variety of traditional feminist texts, such as Mrs Dalloway, Audre Lorde, and the writings of George Eliot. The Grimm’s fairytale of The Willful Child is also repeated throughout – a silent symbol of feminists who will not be stopped.
Ahmed concludes the text with the Feminist Killjoy Manifesto, a document that attempts to expose the existing violence of institutionalised sexism, and to disturb those who are willing to progress their careers through an academic institution that constantly depreciates the contributions of women.
I am not willing to make happiness my cause
I am willing to cause unhappiness
I am willing to support others who are willing to cause unhappiness
I am not willing to laugh at jokes designed to cause offense
I am not willing to get over histories that are not over
I am not willing to be included if inclusion means being included in a system that is unjust, violent, and unequal
I am willing to live a life that is deemed by others as unhappy and I am willing to reject or to widen scripts available for what counts as a good life
I am willing to put the ‘hap’ back into happiness
I am willing to snap any bonds, however precious, when those bonds are damaging to myself or to others
I am willing to participate in a killjoy movement
According to Ahmed, to be a feminist killjoy, and to live a feminist life, is to take the eyes that roll at us and make it our pedagogy. Watch us roll.
May 21, 2019
Sara Ahmed is one of the smartest people to ever live. Reading this book makes you a better person. A lot of books don’t do that. Like most. But if you want to learn about embodied feminist killjoy pedagogy, neoloberal University structures and oppressive systems of whiteness and maleness that pervade those institutions, and other big words with bigger meanings made accessible and situated in their proper socio-historical place, then yes: Sara Ahmed is one of the most important scholar-activists with us. This review is just a gushing love letter of thanks to her incredible work and has little to do with the content of her text. So idk it’s great. Like you can teach classes around this book. Transform lives and communities around it.
August 25, 2023
I was on a panel at 4S last year that was premised around a paper by Michelle Murphy that drew heavily from Sara Ahmed’s appropriations of Marx (largely borrowing theorizations of circulation and exchange and deploying them in the domain of affect). After participating in that panel, and also some classes which appealed to Ahmed’s work, I thought it would be useful to read something by Ahmed. This text happened to be easily accessible by way of my local library, so it’s the one I read. This was perhaps the most memorable passage from it (and helped contextualize a large body of feminist STS literature, and why Ahmed is an influential figure for many STS scholars):
“I had thought that to be philosophical or to ask questions about the nature of reality was not to do feminism: that feminism was about something particular not general, relative not universal, that feminism was about questioning and challenging sexual violence, inequality, and injustice and not the nature of reality as such. I did not understand that feminism was a way of challenging the universal. I did not appreciate how questioning sexism is one of the most profound ways of disrupting what we take to be given and thus learning about how the given is given. Feminist theory taught me that the universal is what needs to be exploded. Feminist theory taught me that reality is usually just someone else’s tired explanation.”
Though Ahmed does engage with Marx a lot in some of her other writings, she mentions “Marxists” only once in this book, in a passing comment on identity politics and materialism:
“Many of the recent arguments against intersectionality, identity politics, and so on (this is not my and so on: this is not my sticking together of words as a way of sticking together certain bodies, but one I have encountered in some recent writings by some Marxist writers, and by some I mean some) as being somehow less material than class can be understood as an enactment of privilege, the alignment of body to world. Race might seem immaterial or less material if you are white; gender might seem immaterial or less material if you are a cis man; sexuality might seem immaterial or less material if you are straight; (dis)ability might seem immaterial or less material if you are able-bodied, and so on. Class too can be understood in these terms: class might seem to be immaterial or less material if you benefit from class privilege, those networks and buffer zones; those ways a body is already somehow attuned to a bourgeois set of requirements.”
Ahmed does mention the issue of socialism and revolution again later in the book, making a point similar to one Audre Lorde was known for making (as someone who was explicitly involved in communist political organizing, but was discriminated against for being a lesbian; and Ahmed draws on Lorde a lot in this book):
“I want to consider one more feminist film from the early 1980s, Born in Flames (dir. Lizzie Borden, 1983), an independent documentary-style science fiction film. It is set in a future time after a socialist revolution has happened (a “war of liberation”), but the future looks rather like the present, or even the past; what is to come is already behind us. The documentary takes this form: we are introduced to many of the characters by snapshots attached to stories gathered by a surveillance team; the voice-over introducing each character as a suspect, as if to the police; different individuals who make up the Women’s Army, who are protesting against this new regime. The film is dystopic: many of the promises of that socialist revolution are shown to have been empty; there is sexism; there is sexual harassment; there are cuts to services for women who are victims of rape; there is unemployment and poverty that disproportionately affects brown and black communities; there is disaffection; there is despair; there is depression; there is oppression.
…In the film, the Women’s Army is building up as a momentum; and the story of the film is the story of this buildup. One of the heroes of the film, Adelaide Norris, a young black lesbian, has a conversation with three white women who are part of the Socialist Youth Party, who in the film (at least in the beginning) speak the language of moderation, a language that identifies their feminist hopes with the hopes of the party. Adelaide points out that the inequalities they assume to be in the prerevolutionary past are the inequalities that are present for black working-class women like her own mother, like herself. What is past for some is present for others. Any feminism that leaves some women behind is not for women. Feminism requires fronting up to who has been left behind. The film gives voice to the myriad of ways that feminism as a revolutionary front is dismissed. The Women’s Army is described as separatist, as having “selfish ends.” We learned from how willfulness is used to dismiss feminism to hear what is at stake in these dismissals. When those who are behind question those in front, they are assumed to put themselves in front, to care only about themselves. To be concerned with the exploitation of women as workers is to be identified as separatist even if you are calling for women’s freedom in calling for the freedom of all.
The Women’s Army are also described as counterrevolutionary because they are impatient. Impatient: that’s a word with a snappy history. Sometimes, if we recall Mrs. Poyser, we might become clumsy and fall because others are impatient with us, because we are too slow; falling as falling behind. But think of how we are told to be patient, to wait, when we make a demand for some- thing. Patience refers to the willingness to bear suffering without irritation or the capacity to accept or tolerate delay. You are asked to be patient, as if what is wrong will not go on, as if with patience, things will only get better. Your impatience might even be deemed the cause of your failure to reach the happiness promised, as if by becoming impatient you have deprived yourself of what would have come your way, as if you have stolen your own future perfect.”
I have not watched this film, but Ahmed's summary and comments on it highlight a lot of the issues of chauvinism and misogyny that have existed in all sorts of radical leftist, communist, and anarchist political projects in the past two centuries. There is something to be said about individualism in organizing, but there is most definitely something to be said about the myriad shortcomings that radical political projects have suffered from past and present. Ahmed has some great comments on lesbian feminism in this book, and I just wanted to share this cluster of sentences that touch on a thought of Monique Wittig’s (a feminist I find very fascinating, and used to publish manifestos for French maoist publications like L’Idiot and La Torchon Brule, the latter being edited by Mouvement de libération des femmes, MLF, of which Wittig was a founding member):
“Lesbian feminism is radical feminism (in the sense of feminist at its root) and thus lesbian feminism demands our full involvement; as Marilyn Frye describes, “Bodily energy, ardour, intelligence, vitality” all need “to be available and engaged in the creation of a world for women” (1991, 14). To be engaged in the creation of a world for women is to transform what it means to be women. Let me explain what I mean by this by going back to the words. The history of the word woman teaches us how the categories that se- cure personhood are bound up with a history of ownership: woman is derived from a compound of wif (wife) and man (human being); woman as wife-man also suggesting woman as female servant. The history of woman is impossible to disentangle from the history of wife: the female human not only as in relation to man but as for man (woman as there for, and therefore, being for). We can make sense of Monique Wittig’s (1992) audacious statement, “Lesbians are not women.” She argues that lesbians are not women because “women” is being in relation to men: for Wittig, “women” is a heterosexual category, or a heterosexual injunction. To become a lesbian is to queer woman by wrestling her away from him. To create a world for women is to cease to be women for. To be a woman with a woman or a woman with women (we do not need to assume a couple form) is to become what Wittig calls an “escapee” or a stray. To be a lesbian is to stray away from the path you are supposed to follow if you are to reach the right destination. To stray is to deviate from the path of happiness. We deviate from the category “women” when we move toward women. Or if a lesbian is a woman, if we wrestle her away from this history, she is a willful woman.”
One of the aspects I did not anticipate being a big part of this book was the literary criticism that engaged with Eliot’s Mill on the Floss, a book that I’ve wanted to read for the past year, because I happen to be very interested in watermills. Ahmed draws from the novel quite a lot in some parts of this book:
“Another willful girl who might help us to make sense of the gendered nature of the assignment is Maggie Tulliver. Maggie appears in George Eliot’s ([1860] 1965) The Mill on the Floss and has been one of my co-travelers in my journeys into the histories of unhappiness as well as willfulness. As I noted in my introduction to Willful Subjects (Ahmed 2014), I first embarked on my research into willfulness because I was so struck by how Maggie’s will was used to explain what was behind her troubles. We might put this in another way: Maggie seems willingly to get into trouble, which is not the same thing as saying she has any choice in the matter.”
“The declaration of injustice, we might note, becomes, in the story, yet another piece of evidence of the child’s willfulness. Maggie, too, when she speaks of injustice is heard as being willful. She speaks out about the injustice of her extended family’s lack of compassion in response to her father’s loss of the mill; she is described as bold and thankless (Eliot [1860] 1965, 229). Speaking out against injustice becomes yet another symptom of willfulness; and being heard as such is dismissed as such.”
This book was highly readable, but not as interesting as other papers I’ve read by Ahmed. It moved quickly from thought to thought, and was largely composed of wordplay that at times reminded be of Debord. It’s not my preferred mode of writing, but it was definitely not painful to read, and was largely written in a fairly accessible manner.
“I had thought that to be philosophical or to ask questions about the nature of reality was not to do feminism: that feminism was about something particular not general, relative not universal, that feminism was about questioning and challenging sexual violence, inequality, and injustice and not the nature of reality as such. I did not understand that feminism was a way of challenging the universal. I did not appreciate how questioning sexism is one of the most profound ways of disrupting what we take to be given and thus learning about how the given is given. Feminist theory taught me that the universal is what needs to be exploded. Feminist theory taught me that reality is usually just someone else’s tired explanation.”
Though Ahmed does engage with Marx a lot in some of her other writings, she mentions “Marxists” only once in this book, in a passing comment on identity politics and materialism:
“Many of the recent arguments against intersectionality, identity politics, and so on (this is not my and so on: this is not my sticking together of words as a way of sticking together certain bodies, but one I have encountered in some recent writings by some Marxist writers, and by some I mean some) as being somehow less material than class can be understood as an enactment of privilege, the alignment of body to world. Race might seem immaterial or less material if you are white; gender might seem immaterial or less material if you are a cis man; sexuality might seem immaterial or less material if you are straight; (dis)ability might seem immaterial or less material if you are able-bodied, and so on. Class too can be understood in these terms: class might seem to be immaterial or less material if you benefit from class privilege, those networks and buffer zones; those ways a body is already somehow attuned to a bourgeois set of requirements.”
Ahmed does mention the issue of socialism and revolution again later in the book, making a point similar to one Audre Lorde was known for making (as someone who was explicitly involved in communist political organizing, but was discriminated against for being a lesbian; and Ahmed draws on Lorde a lot in this book):
“I want to consider one more feminist film from the early 1980s, Born in Flames (dir. Lizzie Borden, 1983), an independent documentary-style science fiction film. It is set in a future time after a socialist revolution has happened (a “war of liberation”), but the future looks rather like the present, or even the past; what is to come is already behind us. The documentary takes this form: we are introduced to many of the characters by snapshots attached to stories gathered by a surveillance team; the voice-over introducing each character as a suspect, as if to the police; different individuals who make up the Women’s Army, who are protesting against this new regime. The film is dystopic: many of the promises of that socialist revolution are shown to have been empty; there is sexism; there is sexual harassment; there are cuts to services for women who are victims of rape; there is unemployment and poverty that disproportionately affects brown and black communities; there is disaffection; there is despair; there is depression; there is oppression.
…In the film, the Women’s Army is building up as a momentum; and the story of the film is the story of this buildup. One of the heroes of the film, Adelaide Norris, a young black lesbian, has a conversation with three white women who are part of the Socialist Youth Party, who in the film (at least in the beginning) speak the language of moderation, a language that identifies their feminist hopes with the hopes of the party. Adelaide points out that the inequalities they assume to be in the prerevolutionary past are the inequalities that are present for black working-class women like her own mother, like herself. What is past for some is present for others. Any feminism that leaves some women behind is not for women. Feminism requires fronting up to who has been left behind. The film gives voice to the myriad of ways that feminism as a revolutionary front is dismissed. The Women’s Army is described as separatist, as having “selfish ends.” We learned from how willfulness is used to dismiss feminism to hear what is at stake in these dismissals. When those who are behind question those in front, they are assumed to put themselves in front, to care only about themselves. To be concerned with the exploitation of women as workers is to be identified as separatist even if you are calling for women’s freedom in calling for the freedom of all.
The Women’s Army are also described as counterrevolutionary because they are impatient. Impatient: that’s a word with a snappy history. Sometimes, if we recall Mrs. Poyser, we might become clumsy and fall because others are impatient with us, because we are too slow; falling as falling behind. But think of how we are told to be patient, to wait, when we make a demand for some- thing. Patience refers to the willingness to bear suffering without irritation or the capacity to accept or tolerate delay. You are asked to be patient, as if what is wrong will not go on, as if with patience, things will only get better. Your impatience might even be deemed the cause of your failure to reach the happiness promised, as if by becoming impatient you have deprived yourself of what would have come your way, as if you have stolen your own future perfect.”
I have not watched this film, but Ahmed's summary and comments on it highlight a lot of the issues of chauvinism and misogyny that have existed in all sorts of radical leftist, communist, and anarchist political projects in the past two centuries. There is something to be said about individualism in organizing, but there is most definitely something to be said about the myriad shortcomings that radical political projects have suffered from past and present. Ahmed has some great comments on lesbian feminism in this book, and I just wanted to share this cluster of sentences that touch on a thought of Monique Wittig’s (a feminist I find very fascinating, and used to publish manifestos for French maoist publications like L’Idiot and La Torchon Brule, the latter being edited by Mouvement de libération des femmes, MLF, of which Wittig was a founding member):
“Lesbian feminism is radical feminism (in the sense of feminist at its root) and thus lesbian feminism demands our full involvement; as Marilyn Frye describes, “Bodily energy, ardour, intelligence, vitality” all need “to be available and engaged in the creation of a world for women” (1991, 14). To be engaged in the creation of a world for women is to transform what it means to be women. Let me explain what I mean by this by going back to the words. The history of the word woman teaches us how the categories that se- cure personhood are bound up with a history of ownership: woman is derived from a compound of wif (wife) and man (human being); woman as wife-man also suggesting woman as female servant. The history of woman is impossible to disentangle from the history of wife: the female human not only as in relation to man but as for man (woman as there for, and therefore, being for). We can make sense of Monique Wittig’s (1992) audacious statement, “Lesbians are not women.” She argues that lesbians are not women because “women” is being in relation to men: for Wittig, “women” is a heterosexual category, or a heterosexual injunction. To become a lesbian is to queer woman by wrestling her away from him. To create a world for women is to cease to be women for. To be a woman with a woman or a woman with women (we do not need to assume a couple form) is to become what Wittig calls an “escapee” or a stray. To be a lesbian is to stray away from the path you are supposed to follow if you are to reach the right destination. To stray is to deviate from the path of happiness. We deviate from the category “women” when we move toward women. Or if a lesbian is a woman, if we wrestle her away from this history, she is a willful woman.”
One of the aspects I did not anticipate being a big part of this book was the literary criticism that engaged with Eliot’s Mill on the Floss, a book that I’ve wanted to read for the past year, because I happen to be very interested in watermills. Ahmed draws from the novel quite a lot in some parts of this book:
“Another willful girl who might help us to make sense of the gendered nature of the assignment is Maggie Tulliver. Maggie appears in George Eliot’s ([1860] 1965) The Mill on the Floss and has been one of my co-travelers in my journeys into the histories of unhappiness as well as willfulness. As I noted in my introduction to Willful Subjects (Ahmed 2014), I first embarked on my research into willfulness because I was so struck by how Maggie’s will was used to explain what was behind her troubles. We might put this in another way: Maggie seems willingly to get into trouble, which is not the same thing as saying she has any choice in the matter.”
“The declaration of injustice, we might note, becomes, in the story, yet another piece of evidence of the child’s willfulness. Maggie, too, when she speaks of injustice is heard as being willful. She speaks out about the injustice of her extended family’s lack of compassion in response to her father’s loss of the mill; she is described as bold and thankless (Eliot [1860] 1965, 229). Speaking out against injustice becomes yet another symptom of willfulness; and being heard as such is dismissed as such.”
This book was highly readable, but not as interesting as other papers I’ve read by Ahmed. It moved quickly from thought to thought, and was largely composed of wordplay that at times reminded be of Debord. It’s not my preferred mode of writing, but it was definitely not painful to read, and was largely written in a fairly accessible manner.
September 8, 2019
I listened to this as an audiobook because it is referenced so often in my very favorite podcast Secret Feminist Agenda. Host Hannah McGregor did a wonderful interview the author, Sara Ahmed, in the final episode of season 3. Ahmed grew up in Australia with a white mother and a Pakistani father as one of few POC students in her elementary schools. She is a lesbian, a PhD scholar, a professor, and long-time writer of the Feminist Killjoys blog. Her feminism is queer, intersectional and trans-inclusive. This is a scholarly book but it was a pretty easy listen as the writing itself leans more poetic and then dense. Much of it is about reactions to feminists speaking up in private or public spaces, and how words (such as "killjoy") are used against feminists and how they can be retaken. Ahmed references work she has done in previous books including the themes of willful subjects, sweaty concepts and walls. The middle portion of the book includes interviews with people doing diversity work at universities, followed by reflections on several films. The final portion includes Ahmed's Killjoy Survival Kit and Feminist Manifesto. This was a very thought-provoking text to listen to while I was drawing, but I am also aware than my comprehension is much higher when I read than when I listen, so hopefully I will have time to get a copy of this book in print to underline and highlight.
February 24, 2019
Truthfully, I should have given it 3 stars because it is the most repetitive book I’ve ever read. But I imagined reading a book half this length with all the repeat sentences removed. Here’s what I appreciated: the focus on the falsity of the idea of the feminist as the cause her own suffering. I’ve recently encountered the argument here on Goodreads, that feminists aren’t unhappy because of outside injustice but because they’ve pushed back on this injustice too much. Ahmed also explores the idea of how people label those who complain about these injustices as killjoys. That’s really familiar.
I liked the exploration of the often ineffective diversity initiatives at most workplaces. How the reports and measurements and self-congratulatory events can become the very tool of oppression by managers that do not at all understand the issues of diversity in the workplace.
I also liked the idea of a feminist survival kit. I am not sure what I’d put in mine, but I’m working on it.
I didn’t like the idea that she put forward of feminists (be the feminist women, men, trans, other races, disabled) constantly snapping at each other. It’s okay to discuss different experiences but it’s exhausting not to have allies that don’t also attack.
I liked the exploration of the often ineffective diversity initiatives at most workplaces. How the reports and measurements and self-congratulatory events can become the very tool of oppression by managers that do not at all understand the issues of diversity in the workplace.
I also liked the idea of a feminist survival kit. I am not sure what I’d put in mine, but I’m working on it.
I didn’t like the idea that she put forward of feminists (be the feminist women, men, trans, other races, disabled) constantly snapping at each other. It’s okay to discuss different experiences but it’s exhausting not to have allies that don’t also attack.
March 3, 2020
Been reading this for two months and while I only got 2/3 of the way through, I have decided I am done with it for now. This is a beautiful book with lots of amazing ideas that are hidden under a pretty repetitive and academic style. Still, I really enjoyed the moments of personal writing, particularly the sections about the power of feminist literature. This is a book I will keep on my shelf to return to in the future.
November 10, 2018
With its title evoking both the ‘improving’ literature of the nineteenth century and the ‘self-help’ industry of the current era, the distance between those genre and Sara Ahmed’s impressive and important Living a Feminist Life is belied by its big hitting academic publisher…. this is no step-by-step guide to living better or living well, but a rigorously argued, elegantly accessible exploration of feminist politics as praxis. But this is no simple restating of the personal as political; instead it explores the realities and practicalities of the limitations of feminist politics in a contemporary patriarchal order and late capitalist institutions. In this it becomes a guidebook to Ahmed’s Feminist Killjoy manifesto/persona having been written alongside her continuing blog, with all the dialogue it produced – much of it comradely, some of it far from even civil.
The Killjoy is a vital political figure who accepts as a basic element of her composition that change does not come about without discomfort or letting others get away with whatever it is that they do that maintains at a micro/personal level those systems of oppression injecting misery, destitution and grief into the lives of many. Ahmed’s Killjoy is also deeply collectivist, group oriented and maintains a delicate balance between the altruism necessary for the well-being of others and egoism required for the well-being of self: in this her activist figure is profoundly different from the right wing killjoy invoked by late capitalist individualism and powerfully channelled by Trump and his populist posse (the right populism of Trump, Orban and the like is also collectivist, but in an inward looking homogenising form that lacks the altruism necessary for the well-being of the Other/ed, aiming instead to bring about the end of the Other/ed). Ahmed’s Killjoy is therefore open – we see this in her Killjoy Manifesto that makes up one of the two conclusions to the book, cast here as an example, as Ahmed’s own and not one that we should sign up to but one that might help us develop our own.
I’m getting ahead of myself. Accessible it may be but that doesn’t for an easy read although the big and challenging issues and ideas that pervade the book – how to best build transformation, how to build allegiances and alliances, how to keep oneself well in the midst of the costs of struggle and change – are woven through personal experiences drawn both from her own life and also of others, from research and interview material as well as material and practical, on the ground, sources and reference points. These big ideas then are made real practical and given form by this grounding, hence demanding, but accessible – a rare thing in too much scholarly writing.
The case for being a killjoy is built around three stages: becoming, exploring the hostile environment that produces a feminist outlook and disposition; the challenge of going against the flow and the wilfulness necessary to develop an outlook and sense of self that rejects and resists the demands and expectations of that environment. Secondly, Ahmed explores the question of working within institutions (this is her powerful critique of the limitations of diversity) through analysis of the challenges of bringing about transformation, including of being doubted as a legitimate source of critique and action and of the barriers erected institutionally and personally to effecting those changes sought. This discussion takes on particular power when we consider the extent to and ways in which institutions are the materialisation of Power, so those barriers may be erected by ‘no-one’, being based in the operation of institutions, or may be erected by the acts of individuals in accord with that power regime – and usually by both in concert.
Finally, Ahmed turns explicitly to praxis, to the fragility of relations and what she calls the ‘feminist snap’, the end of the line, the moment when ‘going along with it’ simply becomes too much. This section concludes with a compelling analysis of lesbian feminism as a wilful politics of action and care. In all, then, this builds into a case that unpacks the theoretical implications and effects of practice-as-lived-experience and the practice effects of engagements with theory-in-practice. She then concludes with a double wrap-up, consistent with the praxis orientation of the book – her Killjoy Manifesto and a Killjoy Survival Kit, as a set of ways to care for the self through ideas, people, networks, humour, permissions and dancing…. and none of those is metaphorical.
This is a powerful case for a transformative politics, for a politics that acts while being acutely aware of the limitations on and of those who are its actors, for recognition of the banality and mundanity of struggle alongside the everydayness of Power’s defence of itself and for acceptance of the values of not putting up with things that are causing us harm in and of that struggle. There much here that resonates having lived an activist life (even when institutionalised) and while I am sure it will resonate for women in ways that it doesn’t for me, whatever your form of transformational politics there is much to learn and act on in this valuable text that I am sure I’ll need to revisit.
Read it, use it, give it to your daughters and especially to your sons – and relish being a killjoy: if nothing else, it’s really cathartic.
The Killjoy is a vital political figure who accepts as a basic element of her composition that change does not come about without discomfort or letting others get away with whatever it is that they do that maintains at a micro/personal level those systems of oppression injecting misery, destitution and grief into the lives of many. Ahmed’s Killjoy is also deeply collectivist, group oriented and maintains a delicate balance between the altruism necessary for the well-being of others and egoism required for the well-being of self: in this her activist figure is profoundly different from the right wing killjoy invoked by late capitalist individualism and powerfully channelled by Trump and his populist posse (the right populism of Trump, Orban and the like is also collectivist, but in an inward looking homogenising form that lacks the altruism necessary for the well-being of the Other/ed, aiming instead to bring about the end of the Other/ed). Ahmed’s Killjoy is therefore open – we see this in her Killjoy Manifesto that makes up one of the two conclusions to the book, cast here as an example, as Ahmed’s own and not one that we should sign up to but one that might help us develop our own.
I’m getting ahead of myself. Accessible it may be but that doesn’t for an easy read although the big and challenging issues and ideas that pervade the book – how to best build transformation, how to build allegiances and alliances, how to keep oneself well in the midst of the costs of struggle and change – are woven through personal experiences drawn both from her own life and also of others, from research and interview material as well as material and practical, on the ground, sources and reference points. These big ideas then are made real practical and given form by this grounding, hence demanding, but accessible – a rare thing in too much scholarly writing.
The case for being a killjoy is built around three stages: becoming, exploring the hostile environment that produces a feminist outlook and disposition; the challenge of going against the flow and the wilfulness necessary to develop an outlook and sense of self that rejects and resists the demands and expectations of that environment. Secondly, Ahmed explores the question of working within institutions (this is her powerful critique of the limitations of diversity) through analysis of the challenges of bringing about transformation, including of being doubted as a legitimate source of critique and action and of the barriers erected institutionally and personally to effecting those changes sought. This discussion takes on particular power when we consider the extent to and ways in which institutions are the materialisation of Power, so those barriers may be erected by ‘no-one’, being based in the operation of institutions, or may be erected by the acts of individuals in accord with that power regime – and usually by both in concert.
Finally, Ahmed turns explicitly to praxis, to the fragility of relations and what she calls the ‘feminist snap’, the end of the line, the moment when ‘going along with it’ simply becomes too much. This section concludes with a compelling analysis of lesbian feminism as a wilful politics of action and care. In all, then, this builds into a case that unpacks the theoretical implications and effects of practice-as-lived-experience and the practice effects of engagements with theory-in-practice. She then concludes with a double wrap-up, consistent with the praxis orientation of the book – her Killjoy Manifesto and a Killjoy Survival Kit, as a set of ways to care for the self through ideas, people, networks, humour, permissions and dancing…. and none of those is metaphorical.
This is a powerful case for a transformative politics, for a politics that acts while being acutely aware of the limitations on and of those who are its actors, for recognition of the banality and mundanity of struggle alongside the everydayness of Power’s defence of itself and for acceptance of the values of not putting up with things that are causing us harm in and of that struggle. There much here that resonates having lived an activist life (even when institutionalised) and while I am sure it will resonate for women in ways that it doesn’t for me, whatever your form of transformational politics there is much to learn and act on in this valuable text that I am sure I’ll need to revisit.
Read it, use it, give it to your daughters and especially to your sons – and relish being a killjoy: if nothing else, it’s really cathartic.
December 5, 2023
I enjoyed this more than i assumed i would!! especially enjoyed the reflections on affect, disability, and intersectionality writ large. unfortunately cannot give this five stars because of the white fragility reference — i thought everyone knew that author/book was very much not to be trusted.
February 10, 2021
There's a lot of layers to this, though I do think it's a fairly accessible text--maybe like a feminism 200 level book, rather than a specific intro. I think it's a book that's really open to an interesting discussion on so many things, making it very useful in the classroom for sure.
The section where she discusses her own feminist awakening(s) but in the second person is certainly a choice that I struggled with, because it took what was a personalized experience and made it feel universalized (which is a thing that happens a lot in less careful feminisms through discussions of socialization that universalize rather than personalize;) while I appreciate the need for distance from her own trauma, I think it made that section far messier and unclear than it might have otherwise.
And the chapter on lesbian feminism was exciting but also kind of retrod a lot of areas that don't match up always with the women of color feminism that Ahmed is in the tradition of (interesting to read that chapter alongside Audre Lorde's writings on why separatism isn't feasible, for example--which I don't think is necessary for a lesbian feminism, but is a greater feature of Ahmed's lesbian feminism than I think makes sense. Plus, the separatism is less fun than the loving women and being oriented toward women, but that's a whole other essay.)
But I do think it's a solid read, and again, could be super useful in teaching for sure!
The section where she discusses her own feminist awakening(s) but in the second person is certainly a choice that I struggled with, because it took what was a personalized experience and made it feel universalized (which is a thing that happens a lot in less careful feminisms through discussions of socialization that universalize rather than personalize;) while I appreciate the need for distance from her own trauma, I think it made that section far messier and unclear than it might have otherwise.
And the chapter on lesbian feminism was exciting but also kind of retrod a lot of areas that don't match up always with the women of color feminism that Ahmed is in the tradition of (interesting to read that chapter alongside Audre Lorde's writings on why separatism isn't feasible, for example--which I don't think is necessary for a lesbian feminism, but is a greater feature of Ahmed's lesbian feminism than I think makes sense. Plus, the separatism is less fun than the loving women and being oriented toward women, but that's a whole other essay.)
But I do think it's a solid read, and again, could be super useful in teaching for sure!
December 3, 2016
I started reading this book with a joke about jumping in with both feet and I was right. I immersed myself very quickly. There is an old saying - if you can't walk the walk don't talk the talk -well this author can walk and talk Reading this book took me a lot longer than the average book. I wanted to take my time and think about what the author was saying. The book led to great discussions with the people in my life and was the subject of a few phone calls and dinner conversations. While I did not agree with everything the author says, I can respect the well documented concise intensity in which she says it. It was very thought provoking.
My only slightly negative comment would be the repetition of the author - not just in the book but in a following sentence. Not sure if she was trying to reinforce a point, but it made me as a reader feel that she was writing for a different level of reader
My only slightly negative comment would be the repetition of the author - not just in the book but in a following sentence. Not sure if she was trying to reinforce a point, but it made me as a reader feel that she was writing for a different level of reader
August 4, 2021
I really, really loved her writing and ideas. This is definitely a book that made me think; I've highlighted many sections and will absolutely be returning to it in the future (and thinking about it and referencing it in my work). I will definitely read her other work after this.
April 27, 2018
I gave up on this book after a chapter and a half. Maybe I'm just out of practice reading academic stuff, but this was way more abstract than I was hoping for. I wasn't a fan of the writing style, and I wasn't getting enough out of it to continue slogging through.
February 5, 2017
Review coming soon!
February 23, 2021
Türkçe çevirisine dayanamadığım bir okuma oldu maalesef. Bazen durup algı kapasitemi sorgulamama neden oldu, bu nasıl bir çeviridir sorarım :(
"Maddi olmayan olarak, hayaletler olarak, kendimizi dahil etmekten, bir şey yapmaktan, bir şey olmaktan nasıl alıkoyduğumuz olarak duvarların yeniden çerçevelenişinde bir duvar ortaya çıkar."
"Aktivizmin, kendimize güvenimizi kaybedişi dahil etmemize, bizim de sorun olabileceğimizi fark etmemize izin vermemize ihtiyacı olabilir"
Sara Ahmed'i yeniden başka bir çeviriden okuyana kadar ara veriyorum.
"Maddi olmayan olarak, hayaletler olarak, kendimizi dahil etmekten, bir şey yapmaktan, bir şey olmaktan nasıl alıkoyduğumuz olarak duvarların yeniden çerçevelenişinde bir duvar ortaya çıkar."
"Aktivizmin, kendimize güvenimizi kaybedişi dahil etmemize, bizim de sorun olabileceğimizi fark etmemize izin vermemize ihtiyacı olabilir"
Sara Ahmed'i yeniden başka bir çeviriden okuyana kadar ara veriyorum.
May 6, 2023
3.5/5
It is as if the response to power and violence is or should be simply to adjust or modify how we feel; for instance, by transforming a social relation of exploitation into a personal feeling of empowerment.This is a weird book. I'm not going to say it's a bad one, as some of what it had to say had so much relevance to recent events in my life that the read was as painful as it was vindicating. On the other hand, that positive is only due to how much my current working situation (master's degree full-timer) mirrors Ahmed's in certain key ways: white collar, education dependent, far closer to the management side of things than the proletariat, and otherwise insulated in certain important respects, if not quite status quo inviolable. So, while I personally resonate with certain topics, I still found this piece to be more of a selective thought experiment than other feminism-oriented books that I've read this year (Against White Feminism, Killing Rage), which certainly made it great at finding le mot juste but not so much at being consistent. All in all, when it was good at parsing out the intricacies of a feminist life and some of its choices, it was very very good. When it said it was being good at one thing and then uncritically referenced some sources that are very much the opposite (e.g. denouncing transphobia/TERFs but raising up Adrienne Rich w/out the slightest qualifier), or otherwise valued the representation more than the solidarity, it was more of the diversity/equity/inclusion events that my workplace puts out whenever they get caught leaving the union out of the loop. In other words, if you've been fortunate enough to get enough of a handle on the academic breed of feminism, you'll probably like this one. If you've done your time with this kind of piece and found it lacking in key ways, though, you may find a familiar breed of less than enthused feeling informing your reading experience.
We must still tell these stories of violence because of how quickly that violence is concealed and reproduced. We must always tell them with care. But it is risky: when they are taken out of hands, they can become another form of beating.
No wonder there is so much investment in not recognizing how restrictions are structured by decisions that have already been made.At the start of next month, I will have officially been at my job for a year, and thus will face both my final performance evaluation and my own personal evaluation of whether it has all been worth it. I wouldn't say everything has gone absolutely perfect every single time, but I have learned a great deal and gained a much stronger appreciation for many things I had not had previous exposure to. One major revolution in my thinking that has occurred as direct result of this is that, I've started viewing the distance that typically lies between diversity/equity/inclusion efforts and unionization movements as a deep and debilitating wound in the side of any sort of social justice action. So, when I'm reading Ahmed's discussions of arms and striking and withholding labor and yet no real push towards conscious raising or solidarity building, I think, well. I certainly have the frame of mind to appreciate quotes of Mary Ann Evans/George Eliot and Audre Lorde, and it makes sense for Ahmed to talk about a feminist life within her personal experiences that are far more of the academic variety than anything else. And yet, when I see talk of movements 'dying out' and still no reach out to those who have plentiful experience with stonewalling committees, dehumanizing management, and institutions whose 'damage control' is code for 'divide and conquer those who would question our inherited right to promulgate violence', I have to wonder what hope there is for folks reaching across the table if a topic as seemingly straightforward as equitable pay is avoided like the plague. That and the 'have-your-cake-and-eat-it-to' approach to intersectionality, where the statements didn't quite align with the sources quoted without any sort of qualifier, were rather off-putting. However, Ahmed's comment about how feminist departments can normalize injustice by blocking themselves off and not passing judgment on what is happening in other departments, not to mention the institution at large, hit the nail so on the head for my own experiences that I have to give credit where credit is due. I just can't really recommend this to anyone who's looking for something a tad more utilitarian than having a safety net in case you have to quit your job in protest or surrounding yourself with knickknacks at home.
Lauren Berlant (2011) introduces the idea of "cruel optimism" to explain how we can end up holding on to what diminishes us; how we can stay attached to a life that is not working. To be in a relation of cruel optimism does not necessarily mean that we feel optimistic; that we hold on to something because we hope that it could get us somewhere; although we can feel like this. Rather the bond itself is the scene of optimism; a cluster of promises that can surround an object (an idea, a thing, a person, a relation). Cruel optimism might be one way of explaining how we do not snap the bonds that are, at some level, compromising, maybe of our existence; maybe of our capacity to realize an idea of an existence.
The first principle has been the basis of much feminist knowledge and activism: the identification of how institutions are built as promises of happiness; promises that often hide the violence of these institutions.Times were that my reading was incentivized by the quotes I had hopes of finding amongst the pages of reads that would prove themselves worthy via their more memorable segments. These days, I've gotten even lazier about compiling them, and it's only for the truly special works that I bother to unpick the scraps of receipts from their pages and attempt to parse what made them so hallowed at that transient period of time. Case in point, this particular? Eminently quotable. Holistically speaking in terms of what I gained overall, however? The way in which this was structured and the choices Ahmed made in making her points made it at time feel that the same point was being reiterated multiple times, and if the author hit upon the right combination words after two, five, ten instances, it wasn't entirely clear whether it was intended or not. Just as what was being clarified in the endnotes (aware of disability, aware of the malignancy of TERFs, aware class) didn't quite jive with what was being uncritically presented in the text, I can't say that I came away with a definite finger of the pulse of Ahmed's overall point. Of course, perhaps what I am bemoaning is the lack of a single-minded and full bodied thrust of an argument, something easily connected to the phallic connected to the patriarchy and so on and so forth. Or perhaps my hard won confidence to cut through the stonewalling nonsense of management during union negotiations has left me little patience for equivocators. In any case, if Ahmed's words do something for you, all the better. These days, I like my theorizing with more meat on its bones.
To protect the feminist bubble you may want to protect it from exposure to the violence of the institution, a violence that is happening elsewhere (another center, another department). Protecting the feminist bubble ends up becoming a means of protecting the institution.
When you assume your own oppositionality too quickly, you can inflate a minority into a majority, hear an injury as a lobby; interpret a fight for survival as the formation of an industry.
January 22, 2018
Après avoir lu des livres d'introduction au(x) féminisme(s), quelques livres à droite à gauche plus détaillé, quel genre de lecture pourrait être appropriée pour tous ces moments où on apparaît comme un·e "feminist killjoy", la personne qui refuse certains comportements, qui refuse certaines blagues faites aux dépends de d'autres, cette personne qui parfois va contre vents et marées pour rectifier des situations.
Ce livre est parfait pour ça, comprendre ce que c'est d'être un·e féministe, des épreuves qui nous attendent, des murs qui se dressent, des murs qui nous bloquent, de tous ces moments où on nous donnera l'impression de "tuer le mood" et de ne pas être riant ou joyeux·se.
C'est à la fois un guide pour traverser ces moments là, les reconnaître, composer avec. C'est aussi un essai d'une femme arabe, racisée, lesbienne qui a rencontré tous ces murs et à dû composer avec tous ces freins qu'on a essayé de lui mettre et des moments où elle a dû renoncer à poursuivre pour être une la féministe qu'elle désire être et des liens qu'elle a dû couper parfois au risque de s'épuiser et de ne pas être heureuse elle-même.
On parle de beaucoup de sujets, et de l'expérience d'être féministe, mais aussi d'être la personne racisée de service (ou plutôt au service d'autres) qui effectue un travail révolutionnaire et essentiel, mais parfois détourné pour justement nier les barrières et oppressions que subissent des personnes. On parle de murs, de toutes sortes de murs, de ce qui camoufle les murs, mais aussi de ce qui les égratignent. Et on parle de l'importance d'être féministe et du féminisme et vice-versa. Finalement, on parle évidemment de la figure chère à Ahmed: la "feminist killjoy"!
Un essai assez bien vulgarisé en ce sens qu'il est assez abordable ; certaines notions comme la feminist killjoy ou son exploration du "hap-piness" pourrait cependant être plus détaillé pour des publics non-universitaires, l'invitation à lire ses autres essais peut-être moins abordables ne satisfait pas trop).
Un lecture que je recommande fortement toutefois pour toutes les féministes puisque c'est de nous qu'elles parlent, c'est une expérience partagée et ça nous aide à comprendre aussi les épreuves que nous traversons (ou que nous allons traverser), mais au-delà de ça, ça permet aussi de comprendre les épreuves et expériences que beaucoup d'autres ont à traverser et comment les murs peuvent être plus hauts et la solidarité encore plus importante.
Ce livre est parfait pour ça, comprendre ce que c'est d'être un·e féministe, des épreuves qui nous attendent, des murs qui se dressent, des murs qui nous bloquent, de tous ces moments où on nous donnera l'impression de "tuer le mood" et de ne pas être riant ou joyeux·se.
C'est à la fois un guide pour traverser ces moments là, les reconnaître, composer avec. C'est aussi un essai d'une femme arabe, racisée, lesbienne qui a rencontré tous ces murs et à dû composer avec tous ces freins qu'on a essayé de lui mettre et des moments où elle a dû renoncer à poursuivre pour être une la féministe qu'elle désire être et des liens qu'elle a dû couper parfois au risque de s'épuiser et de ne pas être heureuse elle-même.
On parle de beaucoup de sujets, et de l'expérience d'être féministe, mais aussi d'être la personne racisée de service (ou plutôt au service d'autres) qui effectue un travail révolutionnaire et essentiel, mais parfois détourné pour justement nier les barrières et oppressions que subissent des personnes. On parle de murs, de toutes sortes de murs, de ce qui camoufle les murs, mais aussi de ce qui les égratignent. Et on parle de l'importance d'être féministe et du féminisme et vice-versa. Finalement, on parle évidemment de la figure chère à Ahmed: la "feminist killjoy"!
Un essai assez bien vulgarisé en ce sens qu'il est assez abordable ; certaines notions comme la feminist killjoy ou son exploration du "hap-piness" pourrait cependant être plus détaillé pour des publics non-universitaires, l'invitation à lire ses autres essais peut-être moins abordables ne satisfait pas trop).
Un lecture que je recommande fortement toutefois pour toutes les féministes puisque c'est de nous qu'elles parlent, c'est une expérience partagée et ça nous aide à comprendre aussi les épreuves que nous traversons (ou que nous allons traverser), mais au-delà de ça, ça permet aussi de comprendre les épreuves et expériences que beaucoup d'autres ont à traverser et comment les murs peuvent être plus hauts et la solidarité encore plus importante.
Read
April 11, 2017"Fans of bell hooks and Audre Lorde will find Ahmed's frequent homages and references familiar and assuring in a work that goes far beyond Betty Friedan's The Feminine Mystique, capturing the intersection so critical in modern feminism." — Abby Hargreaves, Library Journal
"Living a Feminist Life is a work of embodied political theory that defies the conventions of feminist memoir and self-help alike. . . . Living a Feminist Life makes visible the continuous work of feminism, whether it takes place on the streets, in the home, or in the office. Playful yet methodical, the book tries to construct a living feminism that is neither essentialist nor universalist." — Melissa Gira Grant, Bookforum
"Living a Feminist Life is perhaps the most accessible and important of Ahmed’s works to date. . . . [A] quite dazzlingly lively, angry and urgent call to arms. . . In short, everybody should read Ahmed’s book precisely because not everybody will." — Emma Rees, Times Higher Education
"Beautifully written and persuasively argued, Living a Feminist Life is not just an instant classic, but an essential read for intersectional feminists." — Ann A. Hamilton, Bitch
"This book is about a wriggling out, a speaking out. And it teaches me to write, to think, like this — word twists word, and body to thought. Because for Ahmed, words make worlds and her book — the first after she left academia in feminist revolt — is full of bluesy world-play." — Caren Beilin, Full-Stop
"Living a Feminist Life is the perfect introduction to Ahmed’s academic work, if a general reader is unfamiliar with her. . . . For me, her lack of despair is the book’s strongest point. Ahmed’s work is as cutting and critical as it is joyful. There is a distinct hope and optimism for the future of diversity work – but still a demand for better." — Evelyn Deshane, The F-Word
"Living a Feminist Life is a work of embodied political theory that defies the conventions of feminist memoir and self-help alike. . . . Living a Feminist Life makes visible the continuous work of feminism, whether it takes place on the streets, in the home, or in the office. Playful yet methodical, the book tries to construct a living feminism that is neither essentialist nor universalist." — Melissa Gira Grant, Bookforum
"Living a Feminist Life is perhaps the most accessible and important of Ahmed’s works to date. . . . [A] quite dazzlingly lively, angry and urgent call to arms. . . In short, everybody should read Ahmed’s book precisely because not everybody will." — Emma Rees, Times Higher Education
"Beautifully written and persuasively argued, Living a Feminist Life is not just an instant classic, but an essential read for intersectional feminists." — Ann A. Hamilton, Bitch
"This book is about a wriggling out, a speaking out. And it teaches me to write, to think, like this — word twists word, and body to thought. Because for Ahmed, words make worlds and her book — the first after she left academia in feminist revolt — is full of bluesy world-play." — Caren Beilin, Full-Stop
"Living a Feminist Life is the perfect introduction to Ahmed’s academic work, if a general reader is unfamiliar with her. . . . For me, her lack of despair is the book’s strongest point. Ahmed’s work is as cutting and critical as it is joyful. There is a distinct hope and optimism for the future of diversity work – but still a demand for better." — Evelyn Deshane, The F-Word
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