The Personal is Political

Even before this well-publicized action, radical women in many parts of the country had started to meet together. In Chicago, Seattle, Toronto, San Francisco, New York, Gainesville, and Boston, in all major cities, women began to say “enough.” 

The Personal Is Political 

In Boston small groups of women in the New Left had begun meeting informally as early as 1967. Some were groups of friends; others were made up of female members of mixed political groups. Larger weekly meetings of about 50 to 75 women began after the return of five Boston women from the first National Women’s Liberation conference in Chicago. Participants in these small and large groups planned a local Liberation Conference for the spring of 1969; we expected a few hundred women at most. Instead, over 500 thronged to the conference, attending workshops on such topics as Women in Socialist Countries, Self-Defense for Women, Abortion, Women and Witchcraft, and Working Women. 

In September seventy women created a formal organization. We called ourselves Bread and Roses, taking the name from the cry of the Lawrence, Massachusetts textile workers, many of whom were women, during their historic strike of 1912. 

The small group was the basic unit of participation in Bread and Roses. These groups were called in many parts of the country rap groups, consciousness raising groups, or “bitch sessions.” In Bread and Roses we called them “collectives.” In these collectives of seven-to-fifteen women, we told each other our life stories, poured out our feelings as women in U.S. society, and especially as women in a left movement of which we had very high expectations. We wondered, “How come in my equal relationship with my boyfriend it’s always me who notices when we’ve run out of toilet paper?” “Doesn’t my boss know how to make a cup of coffee?” And, as recorded in New York Radical Women’s Notes from the First Year , “I can’t stand walking down the street by the construction workers on their lunch hour; they undress me with their eyes and I don’t know which way to look.” “If you don’t want to sleep with him, he assumes you’re hung up and then you have to stay up the whole night convincing him you’re not.” 

Then we tried to analyze these experiences. We looked at the ways we were brought up to be good little girls—at all the agents of socialization that contributed to our feeling that we could do certain things, but we couldn’t do others. We took a new look at our families, our schools, our churches, and especially the media. Thus, intuitively, we started a process of analysis that has characterized the Women’s Liberation Movement since that time: starting from our own experiences, our own conditions of oppression, and from there generalizing to other women’s condition and the larger institutions of U.S. society and from there thinking of strategies for change. 

In particular we talked about how invisible and taken for granted we had felt in the Left and in our relationships. And we began to explore our relationships with women—to trust and value women more. A theme that ran through many of our discussions was something we began to call psychological oppression. Deeply internalizing the norms of the society, many of us had come to think less of ourselves and other women than we did of men. Each woman reproduced the society’s power relationships and the values placed on the different sexes in her own psyche and in her own relationships. 

Our understanding of this phenomenon enabled us to look at the social roots of many of our deep feelings of insecurity and inadequacy. It also led us to the position that damage to the psyche of each individual—to unconscious and conscious values, images, and aspirations— was as important to struggle against as was economic exploitation or physical domination. We were aided in our recognition of this cultural domination by the black movement’s pointing to the power of (white) man’s ideology in forming black self-perceptions.  

The process of the small group also countered an aspect of women’s lives that we had come to see as one of the most basic and most heinous— “the privatization of personal life.” Women lived, by and large, alone with their day-to-day problems, separated not only by the walls of their individual kitchens, but by an ideology that affirmed that people’s problems were, after all, individual problems that required individual solutions. 

Redstockings, a New York women’s group, wrote in its manifesto about this isolation and the need to counter it: “Because we have lived so intimately with our oppressors, in isolation from each other, we have been kept from seeing our personal suffering as a political condition. This creates the illusion that a woman’s relationship with her man is a matter of interplay between two unique personalities and can be worked out individually. In reality every such relationship is a class relationship and the conflicts between individual men and women are political conflicts that can only be solved collectively.” 

Not everyone agreed with the description of women and men as “classes,” but the political nature of conflicts between men and women was undeniable. This concept became a watchword of Women’s Liberation: “The personal is political and the political is personal.” 

Autonomy and Analysis 

By an “autonomous” movement we mean a movement by, for, and of women—one that would analyze women’s position in U.S. society and act to change women’s condition in the context of a broader struggle for revolutionary change in society. 

Autonomy differed from separatism in that we saw our struggle as integrally tied to that of blacks, workers, and other oppressed groups fighting for radical change. But as long as a racist, sexist, capitalist society continued to oppress different groups differently, it would be necessary for each group to bring its own experience to bear, in its own way. We had learned from history that unless women are articulating their own demands, these demands are not taken up by progressive movements. The example cited most often occurred 100 years earlier when women abolitionists, who had worked hard to free the slaves, wanted to demand universal suffrage for women and men, rather than simply suffrage for black men. Male abolitionists told them, “This is the Negro’s hour. Don’t ruin it by adding your cause too.” The wait turned out to be a long one. We were determined not to be trapped into thinking that the issue of our liberation had to wait until “after the revolution.” 

The goals of the autonomous women’s movement differed, too, from the notions of government commissions on the status of women. We thought of ourselves as revolutionaries; we did not just want equal rights for women in this society—we did not want a bigger piece of the existing pie—we wanted a different, socialist society. From our analysis we thought we could not win either equality or liberation for women without a total social transformation.  

At first we had identified the problem merely as “male chauvinism”—the attitude of condescending to women and undervaluing women that men (and women) acquired as part of their upbringing. Two Bread and Roses members wrote, “Chauvinism is when we spoke in meetings only to find the next speaker responding to the speaker before us—as if we did not exist; it is when we found men repeating ideas that we had formulated earlier, as if they were original; it is why most of us never spoke at all in meetings.” 

When “chauvinism” was the enemy, we still thought we could solve the problem by trying to reform individual men; an attitude was, after all, merely an attitude. However, as we attempted to explain our thoughts to comrades, friends, and lovers, we met more resistance than we anticipated. 

One famous example that quickly entered early Women’s Liberation lore took place in 1969 in Washington, DC at a counter-demonstration to Nixon’s first inauguration, sponsored by a coalition of anti-war groups. Ellen Willis, a Redstockings member from New York, describes what took place: “Our moment comes, M. from the Washington group gets up to speak. This isn’t the protest against movement men, which is second on the agenda; just fairly innocuous radical rhetoric—except that it’s a good looking woman talking about women. The men go crazy. ‘Take it off, Take her off the stage and fuck her.’ They yell and guffaw at unwitting double entendres like ‘We must take to the streets.’” 

There were some men who supported us. Others said it was our problem, not theirs. Others denied that this was an issue on the Left or for the Left. Often the response was liberal and paternalistic, patting us on our heads and approving of “doing our own thing,” while the men would go out to make the revolution. 

We had underestimated the power of male supremacy on the Left and in society. By male supremacy we meant the institutional, all-encompassing power that men as a group have over women, the systematic exclusion of women from power in the society and the systematic devaluation of all roles and traits which the society has assigned to women. We came to realize that we had to confront and attack male supremacy as a whole system. 

This understanding required new strategies for change. Thus we set about creating out own organizations and our own movement, seeking to build a presence so strong and so visible that other political groups and society’s institutions would have to take heed of our critique and demands. 

What We Did 

One of the ways we made the new movement visible was through street demonstrations. Most notable among the large demonstrations that Bread and Roses organized were the International Women’s Day marches, held annually on March 8. But the bulk of our political work went on less visibly—in collectives, in general meetings, in small actions known as “zaps,” and in project groups organized around specific goals.

From the first, structure had been an issue of contention in the new women’s organizations. Many of the founding members had gone through long debates within the New Left, and especially SDS, about structure; these debates had revolved around criticism of representative democracy and were moving toward “participatory democracy,” with the slogan “let the people decide.” Explicit in this political direction was a distrust of formal structure. 

Many Women’s Liberation activists equated structure with hierarchy, with emphasizing status differences and stimulating passivity rather than active participation. Most women’s groups opted for minimal visible structure. A description of the typical Bread and Roses gives a sense of what this meant. “Mass meetings” (assemblies of the general membership) were held weekly. Often 75 to 100 women attended—most of us rarely if ever having been in a room with so many women. 

It is 8:00 PM on a Friday night and the room is filled. Some women are laughing and joking in small groups. A few people are reading leaflets or notes they’ve written to themselves. Some are arguing over a recent article or political action. Between 8:00 and 8:15 several women start suggesting that the meeting begin; it takes a while for this sentiment to waft across the room. After the meeting has come to order, announcements echo from many parts of the room—calls for actions or study groups, a description of a new women’s journal, a report on a recent demonstration. Stragglers wander in, many of them quietly, recognizing their disruption; a few playing kazoos, openly challenging the idea of order and schedule. Most meetings have at least one substantive political topic to discuss. The discussion is carried on haphazardly, with emotional interjections of “This freaks me out” or “I’m uncomfortable” often superseding substantive debate. 

The interjection of “This freaks me out” in a Bread and Roses meeting was the near equivalent of a “point of order.” Whatever was being discussed would be put aside to deal with a particular woman’s feelings. In part, this followed from a belief that women have similar feelings and experiences; if one person is uncomfortable with the direction or atmosphere of a meeting, so probably are many others. In part it was an attempt to remedy the past injustices of women not being heard. The style of emphasizing feelings over structure made strides in the direction of democracy and egalitarianism, but sometimes forfeited progress in planned discussions. In extreme form it tended to install a “tyranny of structurelessness”—without clear procedures or responsibility for conducting meetings, power could drift to those with the clearest preconceived goals or the most skill in public speaking. 

The over-all loose and decentralized structure helped give rise to the popularity of “zap actions.” Zaps were often one-shot deals in which a group of women would go to some public place to expose the sexism of an institution or activity. Often theatrical, zaps usually featured costumes or skits as well as leaflets. The point was to reach new people, women and men, in new ways and to give a quick jiggle to spectators’ normal way of seeing things. 

An example of a zap action is the Bread and Roses “Ogle-In” of July 1970 where men in a busy shopping area were given women’s traditional treatment of stares, whistles, catcalls, and pinches. “Don’t hide it all under a suit,” the women urged. 

Another zap targeted a Boston counter-cultural radio station whose broadcast of an ad for a local drug program ended with “And if you’re a chick, they need typists.” In response thirty angry Bread and Roses women stormed the station protesting its sexism. They presented the station manager with eight baby chicks, pointing out that “women are not chicks.” The statement they presented explained: “The male supremacist assumption was that ‘chicks’ by their very nature type; we do fifteen words a minute at birth and work our way up.” Many phone calls later, they modified the ad  to, ”If you’re a chick and can type, they need typists.” Could a radio station get away with an ad that ran, “And if you’re black, we need janitors?” 

In the project groups Bread and Roses members pursued more specific objectives. Work and/or study groups generated ideas and actions around racism, imperialism, and class. But the most concrete issues involved control of our lives, our bodies, and our work. 

Taking control of our bodies was basic. Redefining our sexuality was a starting point for many women. The idea that Papa Freud and various boyfriends and husbands had defined a women’s orgasm—occurring “from the friction of the penis in the vagina”—was mind-boggling. Reclaiming our sexuality became an important part of consciousness raising. Women realized that “our bodies have been kept from us,” and then we set about taking them back. 

Seeking more knowledge about our bodies led us to a critique of sex education and the health-care system. In Boston a Bread and Roses project began trying to find non-sexist gynecologists to recommend to women—and compiling a warning list of doctors to avoid because of their demeaning attitudes and practices toward their women patients. This group went on to create a health course for women, which was taught at adult education centers, YWCAs, high schools, and colleges, first in Boston and then all over the country. Thousands of copies of a booklet from this course, “Women and Their Bodies,” were distributed by the New England Free Press. Women throughout the nation wrote to Bread and Roses asking for advice and information, telling their own particular horror stories about doctors. As Our Bodies, Our Selves, it has become a classic for women.

Two more specific demands for reclaiming our bodies were for safe birth control and legal abortions. The growing awareness of the dangers of the Pill and the number of unwanted pregnancies pointed to the inadequacy of present forms of birth control. We discovered later that sterilization was being foisted on many poor and Third World women without their choice and sometimes without their knowledge. We came to understand that the basic issue was choice: the right to choose when or whether to become a mother. The right to control our bodies became a basic cry. 

Within this campaign perhaps the most sustained effort centered around abortion. Any woman on the street could be raped; any woman who engaged in sexual intercourse could accidentally become pregnant. Although many reform groups had sought to liberalize archaic abortion laws in the past, the Women’s Liberation Movement sought the repeal of all laws limiting abortion and the provision of free abortions on demand. 

After many years of struggle, women’s efforts seemed to be successful with the 1973 Supreme Court decision, which legalized abortion. (Recently, however, forces of reaction have zeroed in on publicly funded abortions and organized to end them.) 

Another key issue was childcare. We didn’t need a political analysis to tell us that primary responsibility for children fell to women. In many cities, Women’s Liberation groups addressed the issue of childcare from the start, by creating their own alternatives. In Boston women organized playgroups that rotated child-care responsibilities among parents and other interested people. Another frequent tactic, there and elsewhere, was to make demands on institutions where women worked or went to school to set up childcare facilities there. 

Work itself was a third important area of concern. Beyond equal pay for equal work, we sought to end sex segregation and sex-role stereotyping—to challenge the way work was set up. 

Bread and Roses had an office workers’ group whose members met and talked together and tried to interest co-workers in Women’s Liberation. Secretaries in one downtown accounting firm began dividing up their work themselves, refusing to make their bosses’ coffee, and decorating walls with Women’s Liberation posters. 

A fourth area of concern was making ourselves strong women. Many of us studied karate and other forms of self-defense; subway stations were stickered with signs proclaiming “Disarm rapists,” with a picture of a woman administering a karate kick to a man. Members of Bread and Roses taught women how to street fight, how to stay together when attacked, whether in a political demonstration or walking down the street. 

A Women’s Community & Culture 

As women turned to each other for affection and support that we had previously sought in men, many sensual feelings were liberated. Some of us made love with women we loved; some of us “came out.” For some women lesbianism was an extension of the desire to be completely self-sufficient. Or, many times, the women’s movement provided a safe enough place to open up new sexual feelings. 

But also, at times, women who were already lesbians found it difficult to be “out” in the Women’s Movement. Tensions arose as both heterosexual and lesbian women felt guilty or forced up against the wall about their choice. Was lesbianism the logical extension of feminism? (As one woman put it, “Feminism is the theory, lesbianism is the practice.”) Or was it just one natural outgrowth of our feelings and activities? Both straight and gay women could not help but internalize the heterosexual bias of the dominant culture and we had to identify it and fight it. However much tension there was, though, an important new option was opening for women, bringing the possibility of being in more egalitarian and respectful relationships. 

There were other tensions besides that between gay and straight. Conflicts arose too between married women and single women. The whole process of changing our relationships with women and men was not easy; it was not always a barrel of fun. We spoke of “struggling” toward new types of relationships because it was indeed a draining task and painful, even as it was energizing.  

The theoretical expression of this struggle toward a women’s community was the concept of “sisterhood.” In part this was a political name for the feelings of closeness, respect, and solidarity. In part it reflected our desire for the intensity, permanence, and reliability of a “family.” Also, the family metaphor was borrowed from the black movement, where people called each other “sister” and “brother” to indicate solidarity and the creation of a community separate from “the Man.” We felt, too, the potential power of great numbers of women banding together in “sisterhood.” And counting on other women as sisters challenged the idea that individuals had to make it on their own. We quite consciously provoked the surprise and dismay of straight liberal groups who would ask for one speaker on Women’s Liberation and get three; they would ask, “Who is the speaker?” and the Bread and Roses group would respond, “We are.”