Kate Millet, my neighbor

Three years ago, I started volunteering at the WOW Cafe Theater on East 4th Street.  The first time I entered that building, I noticed Kate Millet’s name on the buzzer.  I was like, cool, I know that name!  I was fairly new to New York and had so many things on my mind that it couldn’t really affect me as profoundly as I would have liked.  The years passed and talking about her living upstairs was mostly a noise concern than anything (our noise, not hers ;b). Until yesterday, when Sophie Keir, another wonderful artist in residence in the building, invited me over to talk about the noise problems with WOW.  At the time, I was dreading the meeting.  I had to go play diplomat with the cranky neighbors.  And what’s worse, we were meeting at Kate’s place!  My thoughts were self-preserving: worrying about them ganging up on me conversationally.

As soon as I entered the gently decorated loft, my energy switched to an appreciative, contemplative reverence. There’s something about an artist’s home that sings to me.  The energy is uplifting, the creativity having a cleansing effect on my emotions.  I sat down to talk with Sophie for quite a while before Kate was to arrive.  It was the first time I’d really spoken with her outside of the monthly building maintenance meetings.  I was flooded with appreciation for her as a person.  Listening to her, and having her listen to me, not even talking about the noise issues yet, just shootin’ the shit, got my skin tingling.  I was moved by her stories and her attentive kind heart.  By the time we arrived at the noise issue, I could hardly find my words.  I had begun to appreciate this woman so much that my intended begrudging words were empty.  My creative, problem-solving mind had been taken on such a whimsical journey through stories of the feminist and art movements in the ’60s and ’70s that my feet could scarcely reach the ground.

Needless to say, I did eventually calm down from my excitement and was able to make some progress with the noise conversation with Sophie.  When Kate arrived, I was more-or-less prepared to enjoy her company with the entirety of her legacy and personhood.  I was already anticipating my appreciation of the experience.  And my eye contact with her during the conversation, though scarce, was electrifying.

Throughout the conversation, I realized how little I knew about her work, and that my various feminist courses during my studies hardly did her justice, as I’m sure is true of any woman mentioned in those courses.

This morning, I scoured the internet for more information about Kate.  I sought specifically for her personal experiences and struggles, until I came to an impasse with my agenda.   I wanted to humanize her and see her, where she is today, and ultimately, to identify with her.  But before I reached that point, I found that I’d also like to debate with her.  I found myself developing arguments in my head of how I wanted to engage with her about the discourse around sex.  And suddenly, I found myself straddling a fence between sex-positive and radical!  Up until that point, I self-identified as a radical sex-positive feminist.  No wonder I was feeling at odds with the popular radical femhub, etc.  I was in contested territory and unsafe, away from any sanctioned ideology.  Whoa!  This seat is all of a sudden very hot!

I pride myself on my ties to my elders.  I strive to not take anything for granted.   Could it be that I had really lost touch with what radical feminisms are all about?  Was I a fun-feminist?  It makes me sad just thinking about it. But wait, it gets worse.
I was listening to a podcast by Meghan Murphy from Vancouver radio station The F Word.  Its title was “Where Are All the Radicals? – When Feminism Gets Moderate.”  Some of its tags were Ariel Levy, Andrea Dworkin, and Sheila Jeffreys. And of course, Jeffreys’ simplistic understanding of the transgender experience were among the podcast’s closing remarks.  I felt my brain do a 360!  I felt baffled, hurt, and intrigued.  I’ve always been drawn to conflict, because I see it as an opportunity for growth.  I wanted to contact Meghan Murphy and contact Andrea, Ariel and Sheila!  I got so worked up that I was mentally rifling through my porn-, sex-, and BDSM- positive rolodex just wanting to throw the rhetoric at the computer.

And then, I stopped.  I asked myself what happened when women’s lib butted heads against the suffragettes.  I acknowledged that the history of feminism has not been one continuously forward moving evolution. That the ‘backlashes’ are to be expected and celebrated just as much as the ‘advancements’.  I realized that I wanted to read a lot more from the people I disagree with.  I want to draw linkages between my work and the work of the early radicals, all the way back to the early separatists.  I want to fill in the gaps and stand in the middle ground, refusing to cling only to those who share my views.  It’s time for work.  It’s time for hard work.  I’m ready, and I can’t wait!