At this moment in time the world is holding its breath. Biting fingernails and pacing nervously, awaiting the dreaded fall of the deciding axe: Biden or Trump. A rock and a hard place. I am no expert on American politics, but I can’t say I am totally surprised by the closeness of the presidential race. To assume that the institution of America (or the UK, for that matter) has ever been anything other than viciously prejudiced against all deviations from WASP suburbia, is to be obstinately and violently blind.
What does upset me, however, are the current demographics of this blindness. The wilful spite and ignorance demonstrated in the ballots handed in by white women across the pond. Again, can’t say I’m shocked, just thoroughly disappointed. One would hope, that after all the blatant misogyny, racism, classism, transphobia etc. paraded around, that people would want learn and want to change. But this is where mainstream, state-endorsed and funded feminism has a blind spot: being a woman does not make one inherently ‘progressive’. White women show their allegiance to white identity and all the historical baggage of that before their so called ‘sisterhood’ each time they cast a red ballot, like a knife in the back.
Lola Olufemi’s informative reappraisal – Feminism, Interrupted: Disrupting Power – takes the co-option of feminist rhetoric by corporate right wing and neo-liberal motives to make an uncompromising case for revolution in how we define and use feminism. Olufemi analyses recent manifestations of exclusion and conflict within feminist movements (like the issue of TERF’s and carceral court based feminism, for example) to show how there will never be a ‘one-size fits all’ resolution for the intersecting aggressions people face. To assume there is a universal solution for a supposedly homogenous and fixed group is a fanciful delusion with very destructive real life consequences: trans women are exposed more punitively to harm, migrant women and lower class women are abandoned, sex workers continue to be exploited and black, brown and indigenous women are constantly derided for trying to add their voices to feminist movements.
In the legacy of Bell Hooks, Audre Lorde and Stella Dadzie (amongst others) Olufemi writes for the women feminism forgot; in favour of difference and generative conflict. Disagreements channelled through debate, discussion and compromise rather than authoritarian scrambles for any kind of official leadership. Her crisp, clear text reflects the need for urgency in addressing the problems we –ESPECIALLY WHITE WOMEN – must overcome in order to honour the humanity of all people and fight against impending destruction.
The book is concise and informative without being shallow. It breaks down different aspects of feminism in an accessible way, and Olufemi cites critics and theorists both familiar and unfamiliar to offer broad scope for further learning. She also includes a resource list of artistic, practical and educational resources to sustain critical engagements— very helpful! It offers food for thought for people who deem themselves already clued up on major issues, and I think could revolutionize thinking in people who may never have delved deeply into critical thinking before. I found the sections on art and sex work especially interesting, but I’m pretty certain every part will spark thoughts and conversations that may not have naturally occurred otherwise.
This book may be small but it packs a powerful punch and does not really end when you finish the last page. If anything, Feminism, Interrupted positions itself as only the first chapter in a commitment to learning and activism; like an incendiary guardian angel, always there when you need a quick refresher or deeper healing. I would buy it for staunch radicals and more conservative feminists alike, to at least begin to build a way of communication between different camps that does not rely on clout or hierarchy. We don’t have to like each other, but we do have to listen. This is a book that calls out to be read, and all we need be is willing.
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