This article contends that feminism is haunted by its past, and that to be haunted means that feminists need to bear witness to the possibilities, often unrealized, of that past and to actively resist the policing and defensiveness that have marked feminism's relationship to its diverse history in recent years. It engages with the work of Terry Castle and Avery Gordon in order to make this argument, and to map out a methodology for looking for the ghosts of the recent (...) feminist past. In looking for one such ghost - the figure of the feminist-as-lesbian - the article asks, how does the trope of the apparitional in lesbian cultural visibility structure cultural memories of the second wave movement? To that end the article discusses the presence of the ghost in a recent feminist/queer study of feminist historicity and in the popular press respectively. The final section looks back to the 1980s in order to trace the connections between then and now, and, therefore, something of what the ghost wants us to remember. (shrink)

Feminist Time Against Nation Time offers a series of essays that explore the complex and oftentimes contradictory relationship between feminism and nationalism through a problematization of contemporality. The collection pursues the following questions: how do the specific temporalities of nationalism and war limit and delimit public spaces in which dissent might happen; and how might we account for the often contradictory and ambiguous relationship of 'feminism' and 'nationalism' through an exploration of the problem of time?

Feminist Time Against Nation Time offers a series of essays that explore the complex and oftentimes contradictory relationship between feminism and nationalism through a problematization of contemporality. The collection pursues the following questions: how do the specific temporalities of nationalism and war limit and delimit public spaces in which dissent might happen; and how might we account for the often contradictory and ambiguous relationship of "feminism" and "nationalism" through an exploration of the problem of time?

Contemporary queer interrogations of heteronormativity are fraught with the traces of feminist contestations of the intimate domains of women's `ordinary' lives during the era of the women's liberation movement. These traces remain enigmatic within contemporary theories of public affect and emotion rather than incorporated into their critiques of the present political moment. This essay argues that the work of the early women's liberationists — their attempts to bring the personal into view as the dense, affect laden, site of social reproduction (...) — can offer us a countermemory to the enduring and alluring force of the `private' domains of love and ordinary feeling in the contemporary US national public sphere. In order to hear the echoes of that moment — the time of women's liberation — in this one, the essay stages a comparative reading between two novels, Doris Lessing's A Ripple from the Storm (1958) and June Arnold's The Cook and the Carpenter: A Novel by the Carpenter (1973). Although the two novels were written over a decade apart, both have as their subject the dense and complex relations between political action, personal relationships and feelings within a (broadly conceived) feminist paradigm. By taking the risk of an odd conjunction, and reading the two novels side-by-side, the essay aims to open up the messiness and contingencies of an era in which both `the political' and `the personal' were contested terms, their meanings challenged, their domains struggled over, their practices altered and, in some cases, transformed. (shrink)

In this essay, I engage with the work of the mid-twentieth-century US suspense novelist Patricia Highsmith in order to open up the question of queerness as a historically locatable theory and practice of antinormativity in the post-identitarian, post-new-social-movement United States. I argue that Highsmith's Ripley novels offer a discomfitingly intimate counter-fantasy to the politically radical ambitions of both gay liberation and queer studies, one that reminds us of the constitutive power of commodification in the making of social fantasies of gendered (...) and sexual subversion in the United States in the second half of the twentieth century. In offering her readers scenes that become situations in their reliance on repetition in order to create and then alleviate tension, Highsmith's Ripley novels enact a relation of attachment indicative of the momentary and addictive pleasures of consumer capitalism. Through this formal signature, I argue, Highsmith's work offers us access to a different affective history of queerness in the United States, one that illuminates the power and appeal of norms and their constitutive presence in the production of queer subjects and worlds. (shrink)