New rapid response articles available now: Emergent and Divergent Spaces in the Women’s March: The Challenges of Intersectionality and Inclusion

Gender, Place & Culture, Volume 24, Issue 5, is now available online on Taylor & Francis Online <http://www.tandfonline.com>. This important issue is dedicated to articles concerned with the Women’s March, one of the largest coordinated protests in US and world history. Entitled ‘Emergent and Divergent Spaces in the Women’s March: The Challenges of Intersectionality and Inclusion’, the collection addresses some of the key issues arising through collective expressions of protest.

You may also like to read our linked blog post ‘Reflecting on the Women’s March on Washington’ by Frances Kunreuther here

Introduction

Emergent and divergent spaces in the Women’s March: the challenges of intersectionality and inclusion

Pamela Moss & Avril Maddrell

Pages: 613-620 | DOI: 10.1080/0966369X.2017.1351509
Rapid Response articles

On being groped and staying quiet. Or, what kind of place an airplane can be
Naomi Adiv
Pages: 621-627 | DOI: 10.1080/0966369X.2017.1342075

Intersectional feminism beyond U.S. flag hijab and pussy hats in Trump’s America
Banu Gökarıksel & Sara Smith

Pages: 628-644 | DOI: 10.1080/0966369X.2017.1343284

‘It definitely felt very white’: race, gender, and the performative politics of assembly at the Women’s March in Victoria, British Columbia
CindyAnn Rose-Redwood & Reuben Rose-Redwood
Pages: 645-654 | DOI: 10.1080/0966369X.2017.1335290

Token girl: reflections of an emerging feminist’s journey through music
Amanda Hooykaas
Pages: 655-660 | DOI: 10.1080/0966369X.2017.1328663

Generative spaces: intimacy, activism and teaching feminist geographies
Shannon Burke, Alexandra Carr, Helena Casson, Kate Coddington, Rachel Colls, Alice Jollans, Sarah Jordan, Katie Smith, Natasha Taylor & Heather Urquhart
Pages: 661-673 | DOI: 10.1080/0966369X.2017.1335293

Latent alliances: the Women’s March and agrarian feminism as opportunities of and for political ecology
Garrett Graddy-Lovelace
Pages: 674-695 | DOI: 10.1080/0966369X.2017.1342604

KNIT + RESIST: placing the Pussyhat Project in the context of craft activism
Shannon Black
Pages: 696-710 | DOI: 10.1080/0966369X.2017.1335292

(Re)producing feminine bodies: emergent spaces through contestation in the Women’s March on Washington

Sydney Boothroyd, Rachelle Bowen, Alicia Cattermole, Kenda Chang-Swanson, Hanna Daltrop, Sasha Dwyer, Anna Gunn, Brydon Kramer, Delaney M. McCartan, Jasmine Nagra, Shereen Samimi & Qwisun Yoon-Potkins
Pages: 711-721 | DOI: 10.1080/0966369X.2017.1339673

Resist, persist, desist: building solidarity from Grandma Ella through baby Angela to the Women’s March
Bisola Falola & Chelsi West Ohueri
Pages: 722-740 | DOI: 10.1080/0966369X.2017.1335291

Coming out of darkness and into activism
Petra Doan
Pages: 741-746 | DOI: 10.1080/0966369X.2017.1328664

Book Reviews
Constructive feminism: women’s spaces and women’s rights in the American city
Jenny Lendrum
Pages: 747-748 | DOI: 10.1080/0966369X.2016.1275105

An imperialist love story: desert romances in the war on terror
Andrea Miller

Pages: 748-750 | DOI: 10.1080/0966369X.2016.1275106

This year’s model: fashion, media, and the making of glamour
Pilar Ortiz
Pages: 750-751 | DOI: 10.1080/0966369X.2016.1275109

A Box Filled with Treasures by Maureen Wilson

female wall

This post is written by Maureen Wilson, Hamilton, Ontario

I have a box filled with treasures.

No, they’re not diamonds, gold or even Apple shares. These treasures are homemade cards and pieces of art work made by each of my three children. Some of them are touching: “I love daddy. Daddy loves pizza and pie. But he loves me more” (Nailed it). Some are funny: “For 7 years of my life, you were a good mom.” That one was written by my son when he was seven. I can’t wait to see what he writes when he’s 14 and 21. Or maybe I can.

No hallmark card comes close to offering me a glimpse into the heart, humour and personality of each of my children at that moment in their lives. My son will never be seven again, but I have a piece, however small, of what he was like when he was seven. Just thinking about it makes me weepy.

Which brings me to the Women’s March on Washington. I suppose it’s because I love the written word so much that I was drawn to the signs. Thousands upon thousands upon thousands of signs, almost all of which were homemade. The same mothers who have made countless trips to the craft store or the dollar store on behalf of their kids and pending school projects were making the same trip for themselves. Bristol board. Markers. Some required glue and yarn. Others needed cotton batten. There was paint of every colour.

I’ve been to a few demonstrations over the last number of decades but I’m the furthest thing from radical. I aspired to be Mary Tyler Moore’s “Mary Richards” when I was younger, not Gloria Steinem. I am a feminist and have thought of myself as a feminist most of my life. To be sure, I am a white now middle class feminist. I am growing increasingly aware of my privilege and I know that I must listen and learn from the experiences of women unlike myself, including women of colour and Indigenous women. Some of the signs helped in that regard and have got me started on my journey.

The homemade signs offered a glimpse into the heart, humour and personality of each woman. They owned their signs. It was important to them and they carried the signs with pride and tremendous emotion. And, unlike other demonstrations I have been to, solidarity and strength was not measured in the uniformity of each sign. It was found in the differences. And, isn’t that a lesson in democracy, inclusiveness and civility, especially after witnessing the intentional chaos, panic and fear of the Executive Order from the President of the United States seeking to ban refugees (Muslims) from entering the United States – a case study in how demagogues and their handlers fan the flames of division, create scapegoats and use diversionary tactics to reorder society to prop up their own positions of power and privilege.

But of all the signs I bore witness to last Saturday one in particular affected me most. We came upon a long line of women, and a few men, with linked hands dressed in jumpsuits depicting a brick wall. In the place of some bricks were the words:

  • Dog
  • Bimbo
  • Must be a pretty picture. YOU DROPPING TO YOUR KNEES.
  • As long as you’ve got a young and beautiful PIECE OF ASS.
  • A person who is FLAT CHESTED is very hard to be a 10.
  • Disgusting Animal
  • There was blood coming out of her eyes. Blood coming out of her wherever
  • Slob
  • I’ve said if Ivanka weren’t my daughter, perhaps I’d be dating her

Of course, these are the words of Donald Trump. We had all heard these words over the past year. But to see them in bold print and attached to the bodies of women was very powerful. Imagine the size of the crowd, as you’ve seen from the television reports, and then imagine absolute silence. Women knelt before this wall and cried. I cried. The women forming the wall cried and strangers hugged strangers to console, to grieve, to give strength and support. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it as long as I live.

The printed word matters. Today, more than ever. Truth matters. Alternative truth is another word for fiction. Sources that seek to uncover and offer the truth matter like the free press and libraries. I will double down on my support for both and I hope to unite with people who feel the same. And, I will refill my supply of Bristol board and markers and always have a comfortable pair of shoes at hand. I am ready to march. Again.

Reflecting on the Women’s March on Washington

 

Written by Frances Kunreuther, Reblogged from the Building Movement Project

The day after Trump’s inauguration, I was one of the 500,000 or 1.2 million who marched in Washington, D.C.  I was glad to be there, even with the flaws. There was a feeling of optimism reflected in the pussy hats, homemade signs, different issues that were represented, throngs of people, and general good will. That feeling is quickly fading as our new President’s actions wreak havoc on the environment, Muslims, people in need of health care, refugees, women who are sexually active, people of color, immigrants, workers, those without resources, and so much more.

Being at a march that was dominated by white women, I kept thinking about the ‘other white women’ – the majority who voted for Trump. They were not wearing pussy hats or holding signs that read “Free Melania” or shouting, “Our Bodies, Our Choice.” Trump’s denigration of women, or anyone else, didn’t seem to matter to them, or to matter enough to keep them from casting their vote for a self-avowed sexual predator, and the question is why not?

I began to wonder if white women are just used to men like Trump. Maybe he is not that different from the other men in their lives: husbands, fathers, partners, sons, co-workers, neighbors, friends. White men who feel it is fine to talk about, or grab, someone’s pussy and claim it’s a compliment; who believe they have power that should not be challenge.

Back in the day, I worked in what we called the battered women’s movement. We saw intimate partner violence as an issue of power. We knew it was systemic, that institutions – school, communities, laws, policies, families, and in places of worship – kept gender-based power differences in place. We heard the justifications for the violence, and we listened to the reasons why women did not leave. They were dependent on their partner financially, no one believed them, the criminal justice system ignored their pleas for help and often told women they were responsible.  Women didn’t have control over their lives, they were told they were worthless and over time they started to believe it. They loved their partner and hoped he would change. In response, we wanted to raise consciousness, help women see our own agency, and support each other. We wanted to offer an alternative, for the victims of violence, and for all of us; to change the systems that kept these power differences in place.  Many women stayed with their abusers, and it was just as difficult to watch then as it is disappointing to learn that 53% of white women, and almost half of college education white women voted for Trump.

Much has already been written contrasting how white women voted with the fact that only 4% of black women and 26% of Latinas were Trump supporters. We know that women of color, too, experience violence from within and outside of their families. But women of color – especially Black women – also know what violence has been perpetrated against their communities in order to“protect” white women. So maybe when they looked at Donald Trump, they also saw in him other white men they had known, making his presidency even scarier.

And white women? Is our trade-off to ignore the slights all women face – about our competency and interests, judgements about our bodies, harassment in public spaces, and fear of verbal and physical violations at home or by strangers – so we can be “protected” by white men whose power is enhanced by Trump’s reactionary populism, meaning a political climate that tilts male, white and Christian? Will there be a time when the majority of white women will recognize the costs to them and their mothers, aunts, sisters, daughters and sons of this compromise, and have the courage to bond with their sisters of color, just as so many brave women have taken the risk to leave the “normality” of their abusers?  And will that build a soon-enough, strong-enough movement to stop the madness– the greedy financial interests, male privilege and white supremacy –  that has led us to Donald Trump?