Feminisms: Inclusion as a Radical Act
Linda Van Leuven

This essay is part of a larger project, "Consciousness Raising: The Heart of Feminism"

When we first started there was no precedent to what we were doing.
There were no rules where people could say do this or that.
We just put ourselves out there and took the ride.
---Ann Wilson of Heart


When the moon is in the seventh house
And Jupiter aligns with Mars
Then peace will guide the planets
And love will steer the stars
   --- The 5th Dimension

The Houses We Live in

Apparently, the earth has moved. Things are shifting.

This morning, I can’t get the door open. I live in a sensitive and flexible house. A structure made of lathe and plaster, so it breathes--responds to all seasons and energetic changes--is alive on so many levels. It also came with a milk door--one of many openings built-in, by architects who probably had five and ten and thirty-year plans, and designed houses to last lifetimes. They paid attention to what was relevant and wanted and standard in 1938: big bedrooms, small bathrooms, and tiny but functional kitchens. Everything enclosed, and encased--maximizing the need for separated space. For privacy. They also paid attention to the weather--the double hung windows strategically placed to catch the breeze. 

But now the winds have changed. A milk chute installed for a delivery service that is no longer part of daily life; built for people who were not living “Dairy Free” because they had become intolerant to changes in the production of milk--which has little to do with cow, sheep, and goat biology, how milk is really produced--but rather, concerns man’s (sic) attempted improvement on Nature to make a buck.

Each time I look at the metal milk door--its small latch keeping things in and out, the arrow of product selection--I see the promise of relationship and morning ritual exchanges--the homegrown giving and the receiving. I am also reminded of how things change, even in the very structure of our living. I hear people like their floor plans more open these days, with designated spaces spilling into each other--where kitchens are expansive and part of living rooms. Where bathrooms function as “retreats,” and not simply because you have locked yourself in there to get away and cry. And in this post-privacy era, the clear boundaries have been erased and redrawn to maximize movement, flow, and visibility.

This is a time of expansion.

Finding Feminisms

In generating the theme Feminisms, there was (as there often is with me), no thought. I had been teaching a class on cultural pluralism--steeped in multiplicity, and my own rethinking of what typically passes as diversity. “Feminisms” seemed timely and appropriate to the larger conversations that many people were having--about taking a bigger perspective, about spirituality, about living differently, about new bottom lines, and paradigmatic shifts. Making feminism plural felt dimensional. Mostly, I just imagined it would make a great t-shirt.

There are so many different epochs, versions, and visions of Feminism. And this theme was ours. Here at Trivia, we like our Feminism plural. Not simply because we are rooted in (and billed as) “the many voices,” but because we are committed to continuing a Radical Vision at Trivia. And it is in this spirit that we announced Feminisms--what’s more radical than women’s expansion and inclusion? Plus, women/womyn/wimmin know the power of spelling--and how a single letter can shift boundaries of awareness. It all seemed like a good idea at the time. We heard from some folks that it wasn’t--and well, that’s part of it, too.

What is called for—and forth—at this time is inclusion, integration, dimensionality. Feminisms. The more the merrier. But pluralizing ourselves / the work invites the fear that we aren’t enough, or that we are too much; that as a “Movement,” our energies will be diluted. That there are too many cooks in our feminist kitchen. Too many ideas. That there is no one way, or brand of Feminism. But hasn’t this always been the case?

Perhaps there is a way to think about Inclusion that invites more than fear. One that makes room for new ways of thinking and living. One that asks: Can we hold things together? And not simply because we are falling apart. But can we truly "hold things together?" Which is about Consciousness. Perspective. Positionality. The prospect of Inclusion can bring to our attention (lovingly) how we orient to life; how we (habitually) think, and where we stand. Can expose the ways we might prefer lives of clear separation, even as we work to hold doors and hearts open. How we like our duality, unmitigated. Our sense of "us or them," unwavering--while claiming we are all in this together. Indeed, we are a complicated bunch.

And certainly, inclusion can be uncomfortable--as we become aware of ways we are not aware, ways we are rigid. How we might not be as open minded as we believe. And in this realization, is the possibility for great tenderness. How we participate in similar patterns as those we rally against. How we, too, can be fundamentalist hardliners in the ways we approach/reproach ourselves--with parts we lock down and separate out--parts we don't include. How we might have structures of thinking or routine responses that are no longer necessary, possible to maintain, or serving our movement, forward. And yes, there's this:

If you let things in, you have to let things go.

Inclusion is a radical act. 

Finding Feminism

How we locate (and recognize) Feminism--as a belief system, orientation, and practice--the grand vision, the everyday awarenesses and doings--includes history and perspective. Is Feminism this or that? Embodied by these women, at this particular point in time, carrying these definitions and cultural markers. Indeed, this is what a Feminist Looks Like, in (and through) Time. And of course this varies.

But what happens when we cannot identify the Feminist, or the Feminism? This is often our task as the Editors of Trivia--discussing how a particular piece--poem, art, essay--is feminist. You might think this is an easy assignment. Certainly, it is an enlightening one, as we look for feminism, and for the possibility of feminism in each submission. And as I write this, I realize what an enormous privilege this is, and how strange. And people send us all sorts of things. Perhaps they didn’t realize it was a feminist journal. They didn’t read the call for submissions or Mission statement. Perhaps they just Want. To. Get. Published. Somewhere.

And we are here: as the voices of feminism.

So locating Feminism is of primary interest. It requires that we stay open to an evolving vision--while reminding us that Feminism is both locatable, grounded in the realities of women’s lives and experiences (which includes the contents of their thoughts and their pocketbooks), and also, always in a state of revealing itself--showing up in new forms, and perhaps even new bodies.

So we wonder: Is it enough (essential) that a submission has been created by a woman? That we give much needed space for female voices and female work? Perhaps it is enough that the piece is something about women's lives--well written, developed, thoughtful; something impossible, inane, or inspiring. I sometimes think we are looking for the feminist spirit--a feeling, a sensibility; a way of being in and with life. At Trivia, this process of Finding Feminism requires that we stay open to shifting understandings, evolving perspectives, and varied lived realities (while being mindful of our own commitments).

But it is not only our editorial predicament to find Feminism. It was mine.

Your mother dies.

Your job ends, you have a Ph.D. and can’t find work.

You have no healthcare and your embodied existence is slightly suspicious.

You are Dissolving: a self and cellular re-organization--an amid-life awakening.

You suddenly can't locate yourself, and yet, find yourself in everything. And it seems the tense of your life has changed, along with the boundaries of you.

What’s your Feminism Now?

And the old slogans no longer fit:

"A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle."
"The best man for the job is a woman."

At one time these were humorous, encouraging, defining--told the story of my feminism: the claiming of space through separation, the "advocating for" through "pushing against," all rooted in a clear gender binary. Now this just feels painful, limiting, and untrue.

Consciousness is grounded and evolves. How we think is grounded and evolves. Not only in epochs, but where we are in our own life course. In our own unfolding, and evolution. In our own living Awareness. What we give our attention to not only matters, but shifts and changes.

My life and my feminism require new slogans of appreciation and inclusion:

"Start where you are." (Pema Chodron)
"Be Here Now." (Ram Dass)
"All is Welcome Here." (Pamela Wilson)

Begin again

So how do we locate the feminism of and in our lives? Perhaps our Feminism locates us. Dates us. Finds us. Shows us what is important--in how we think and live. In how (and what) we think about Life, about Gender, about women and girls. About what's possible. In how we consider ourselves, and our Planet: our sustainability, inter-related. In how "the personal" is not just what happens to our egoic self--some slight, or even the specific circumstances of our life--but also what happens to our neighbors, our friends and enemies, to the animals, waters, plants and trees--because on some level, "that's me, too." Our material and life course conditions all part of how we frame the issues. How we (can) see things now. 

And in expansion, Feminism asks us to stay rooted. Grounded. Connected. And Alive. Invites us to become Conscious. Mindful. Awake and Aware. And it seems nothing has changed--these ideas are not new, but they remain--essential. Our feminism evolves as we do. Containing all that came before, expressing it in new ways. The Being and the Becoming. Fractal and Full Circle.

And Sisters are doing it for themselves (tho they are not doing it alone).

The Internet response to the horrific Isla Vista shootings is overwhelming. It is feminism in practice. Moving from women’s deaths, and lives. No books, or grand theories. No Conference or formal living room chats. Just a hashtag #yesallwomen. A different kind of locating--a set of shared experiences. No discussion about "well, what do we mean by All Women? What do we mean by 'Yes?'” Just a statement of Inclusion: "yes all women." How radical. And this is Happening. Now.

Sometimes I think we will find our way to liberation, equality, and valuing women, without a defined theory--without a formal structure. Perhaps without agreement. Would this be okay? Fine by me. But we won’t find our way to liberation, on any level, without awareness and movement. Without the energy, work, and lives of all the women who came before. We are here now because of them. And what of the men? Are we not here now because of them, too...?

Inclusion is a radical act because it invites consciousness to (our habituated thinkings about) Gender. Feminism is a project of Gender Liberation: be it liberation from roles, ideas of limitation, or massive systems of violence and social inequity. Our stories of Gender matter, especially the ones we tell ourselves.

So I wonder about the voices we are listening to. This is not (only) a question about formal feminist “leadership,” or which voices get the most airtime or Facebook “likes.” But rather, which voices resonate with our own: call us forth, help us to remember who we are—our place in this ancient process called Life. Which voices and visions do we hold onto, recycle, release?  The Many Voices of Feminism include the one(s) inside ourselves: the small directions, the hints, the sledgehammer of “enough!” Perhaps it is time to set the voice of the Good Girl down, to let her rest; she must be very very tired.

And whatever our feminist movement, whether we choose to lean in, lean back, let go, step forward, stay steady, or step off:
May we listen to the voice of our Heart.

***

So, in this time of expansion, where do we go from here--with Trivia, and with Feminism?

Where are the new margins, and edges?
What do we let in?
Can we hold on and let go?

And Monica asks: What is sustainable?
And I ask: How do we stay open (and Alive)?

In lives filled with so many demands and opportunities; with so much pain, suffering, and joy; with so much complexity, uncertainty, and (im)possibility. Might Inclusion transform us to the core?

"Hold the sadness and pain of samsara in your heart and at the same time the power and vision of the Great Eastern Sun. Then the warrior can make a proper cup of tea" --Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche, quoted in Chodron, 1991:102.

***

One day you wake up, and things have changed. The earth of you has shifted in a fundamental way--you can’t recognize or locate yourself, and yet, find yourself everywhere, in everything. Maybe you just can’t get the door open. Whatever is happening, things will never be the same.

And Feminism remains--defined by everyday actions, by growing realizations, by sharing the details of women's lives--of human lives--and connecting them to larger issues. The big picture is also a grass roots movement of Awareness, a project of education and consciousness raising.

Hand over hand we go. Separate & Together. A House of Inclusion.

May you find your Feminisms here.

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About the author

Linda Van Leuven, Ph.D. (“LVL”) is a sociologist--a writer, teacher, and consultant. A recipient of the Distinguished Teaching Award at UCLA, she considers sociology a transformational science, and practices it as an art.  She has written articles about personalized service work, workplace sexualization, negotiating relational boundaries, and the suburban metropolis. Her work has appeared in scholarly collections and urban style magazines, and often includes her photography. 

Some days, she also works in a Mall, selling high-end designer eyewear and new perspectives. Her work under all conditions is to hold a big space--helping people envision and revision their lives. She loves rocks and dirt and plants; old rusty bits – things and ideas on their last leg – and crafting something new. She lives in Long Beach, California, and shares the path with her Border Collie/Retriever mix, Maizie. To contact her, please visit  www.lindavanleuven.com

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