Abstract
Previous research demonstrates how activists who do not identify as feminist sometimes engage in “implicitly feminist practices.” In this paper, I extend this research by asking: Do self-identified feminists also employ such implicit strategies in the course of their activist efforts? If so, why would they “do” feminism implicitly? Based on participant observation and semistructured interviews at Girls Rock! Midwest—a week-long summer day camp program that aims to empower girls through rock music production—I develop the concept of implicit feminism. I define implicit feminism as a strategy practiced by feminist activists within organizations that are operating in an anti- and postfeminist environment in which they conceal feminist identities and ideas while emphasizing the more socially acceptable angles of their efforts. My research demonstrates how feminist-identified activists employ implicitly feminist practices as a strategic response to feminist dilemmas stemming from competing organizational demands, how they envision the possibilities and drawbacks of such a strategy, and what this suggests for the shape and future of feminist politics.
It is nine o’clock in the morning and the start of another day at summer camp. Seventy campers, ages eight to 16, stand in a large circle, holding hands with each other. They are instructed to scream, one at a time. Some campers hesitantly let out quiet yelps while others scream so loudly that their faces get flushed. As their vocal chords and eardrums recover from this “scream circle,” campers are rushed off to a morning workshop on zine making.1 The workshop leader passes out supplies—markers, glue sticks, scissors and old magazines. Some campers page through the magazines, tearing out images to make collages, while others draw their own comic or interview each other. Campers collect their zine pages, some still damp from drying glue, and hurry to their assigned instrument instruction rooms—each named after an influential musician. In the “Kim Gordon” room, a small group of campers sit in chairs with basses resting on their laps as they learn how to tune their instruments. Across the hall in the “Carrie Brownstein” room, budding guitarists learn a new riff, while the drummers in the “Moe Tucker” room beneath them practice a new beat. After two hours of learning bass lines and drum fills, campers gather in the cafeteria for lunch, where they also go through bins with craft supplies to decorate their drum sticks and guitar straps. After lunch, campers are directed to the afternoon workshop on disk jockeying. The workshop presenters demonstrate how to use turntables and invite campers up front to try it out for themselves. After an hour of trying out DJ equipment, campers meet their band coaches and fellow band mates in their practice rooms, and for the next two hours, they work on writing their own original song—brainstorming band names, writing song lyrics, coming up with instrument parts, and taking breaks for snacks. The day ends with everyone gathering in the auditorium to listen to a performance by a local band. Most campers leave the bolted auditorium seats to dance in the small area in front of the stage. At five o’clock, parents and guardians arrive to pick up their exhausted campers, who excitedly tell them about their day.
This vignette describes a typical day at Girls Rock! Midwest (GR!M), a week-long summer day camp program that uses rock music performance and production as a means to empower young girls. Girls’ rock camps are an organized response to the marginal treatment of women in music, as well as to concerns that have surfaced in recent years about girls’ self-esteem. GR!M incorporates “do-it-yourself” (DIY) projects into their program to show girls how they can be cultural producers and become empowered through that process. Although the volunteers with whom I spoke interpret themselves and the organization as feminist, they avoid defining feminism and explicitly putting forth an image of the organization as feminist. In this paper, I ask: Why would self-identified feminist activists “do” feminism without always explicitly defining and labeling it so? I examine how those who run GR!M are “doing” feminism and what might be influencing the choices they make about how to “do” it. I add to previous work on the evolution and transformation of feminist organizations by exploring how feminist organizers do their work in a mainstream and supposedly “postfeminist” context.
Literature Review
Feminist organizations are important sites of mobilization for the feminist movement. These organizations address a variety of feminist issues—from battered women’s shelters to rape crisis centers and women’s health clinics to self-defense groups. Not only are the range of issues that these organizations address diverse but so are the forms that they take. As Martin (1990) argues, feminist organizations are not monolithic; they can and do vary on multiple dimensions, including organizational structures, goals, ideologies, and motivations. Although there are many different ways of being a feminist organization, Ferree and Martin point out that they are all “doing the work of the [feminist] movement” (1995, 3) by shaping people’s lives and creating social change in the present and for the future.
Feminist organizations, however, have not developed without struggle. Feminist organizations change over time “in response to their own needs, the needs of the women they serve, and the demands of their environment” (Ferree and Martin 1995, 8). Research on feminist organizations repeatedly documents the difficulties that organizers face when trying to manage the internal dynamics of an organization while also responding to external pressures. Internal tensions over shifting and contested meanings of feminism shape organizational decisions just as does the social and political reception of feminism outside of the organization. This can create a tricky balancing act, as feminist organizers strive to maintain a commitment to feminism while ensuring organizational survival (Bordt 1997; Farrell 1998; Loe 1999; Schmitt and Martin 1999; Thomas 1999). Feminist organizations evolve and transform in response to both internal and external factors; however, the shifting political and social landscape over the past 25 years has created new dilemmas for feminist organizations in doing feminism. Since the 1980s, feminist activists have worked to sustain commitment to a movement that is experiencing a backlash, both politically and socially. Feminist organizers are confronted with the issue of how to sustain and legitimate feminist organizations in this antifeminist environment. Scholars studying feminist organizations have documented the changing forms of activism as organizers attempt to mobilize during this backlash, often having to practice feminism in less visible and disruptive ways within mainstream institutions (Katzenstein 1990) or even having to develop strategies that involve toning down feminist ideologies in order to obtain the resources that keep these organizations running (Matthews 1995).
Not only do contemporary feminist organizations reside in an antifeminist context but also one that claims to be “postfeminist.” According to Judith Stacey, “postfeminism” involves the “simultaneous incorporation, revision, and depoliticization of many of the goals of second wave feminism” (1991, 339). Interestingly, at the same time that feminism is declared dead and irrelevant in “postfeminist” discourse, feminist ideologies have been co-opted and commodified. For example, the popular Virginia Slims campaign that declared “You’ve come a long way, baby” drew on feminist principles of independence to sell cigarettes. More recently, the radical feminist call for “Girl Power” has been marketed as a means toward personal empowerment that is best achieved by purchasing products bedazzled with girl-positive slogans like “Girls Rule!” This is in marked contrast to the original meaning of the concept, which encouraged girls to produce their own culture (Schilt 2003). Feminist organizations are not immune to this co-optation of feminism. For example, Thomas and Zimmerman (2007) found that many of the feminist elements guiding women’s health clinics have been transformed into marketing tools by hospital-sponsored women’s health centers. Feminist organizations, consequently, must respond to this “postfeminist” context and the subsequent commodification, individualization, and depoliticization of many of the core principles of feminism.
Feminist organizers must also respond to changing attitudes toward feminism in this antifeminist and “postfeminist” environment, especially those feminist organizations focusing on girls and young women. Since the 1980s, feminism has repeatedly been declared dead. The media has played a major role in spreading this “false feminist death syndrome” (Pozner 2003), reporting that women—particularly young women—are increasingly resisting the feminist label, even though research shows that these claims are overstated (Hall and Rodriguez 2003). Nonetheless, some question whether feminism has maintained its “intergenerational currency” (Budgeon 2001, 7). Researchers have repeatedly documented young women’s reluctance to claim a feminist identity; this ambivalence toward feminism is perhaps best exemplified by the “I’m not a feminist, but . . . ” phenomenon in which young women eschew the feminist label but endorse feminist beliefs (Aronson 2003; Williams and Wittig 1997). “Postfeminist” discourse suggests that feminism is not necessary and that gender equality exists, implying that “it is up to individual women to make personal choices that simply reinforce those fundamental social changes” brought about by second-wave feminism (Orr 1997). Because of this, many of those who espouse the view “I’m not a feminist, but . . . ” emphasize the importance of personal choice and self-transformation (Budgeon 2001; Rich 2005; Sharpe 2001) while downplaying the need for collective action and structural change.
Not claiming a feminist identity, however, does not mean that individuals are not engaging in what can be interpreted as feminist activism. Research on activists who do not identify as feminist reveals how they often engage in “implicitly feminist practices” (Pardo 1995, 357) that look like feminist activism (Blackstone 2004). Taking the postpartum depression and breast cancer movements as an example, Taylor and Van Willigen (1996) demonstrate how participants in these movements challenge gender inequalities even though many do not explicitly identify themselves or their actions as “feminist” (Taylor 1996). In addition, Martin (1990) argues that organizations do not have to explicitly label themselves as feminist to accomplish feminist goals.
My research builds on this previous work on feminist organizing in the contemporary social and political context, as well as on nonfeminists employing “implicitly feminist practices.” In this article, I ask: Do self-identified feminists also employ “implicitly feminist practices” in the course of their activist efforts? If so, why would they “do” feminism implicitly? I find that instead of “I’m not a feminist, but . . . ,” activists in a context of resistance to feminism may adopt a stance of “I am a feminist, but . . . ” in which they seek feminist social change but are reluctant to define or label their feminism to others.
GR!M provides an opportunity to explore this phenomenon. Although most volunteers with whom I spoke identify themselves as feminist and convey a clear understanding of the organization as feminist, they were hesitant to define or explicitly publicize the feminist frameworks guiding the program. Volunteers adopt a strategy of implicit feminism to respond to three organizational dilemmas: integrating multiple feminists, passing on feminism without being alienating, and appearing legitimate to parents and funders. In what follows, I explore the possibilities and potential drawbacks of self-identified feminists employing implicit feminism within the context of a mainstream organization for girls and what this might mean for contemporary feminist politics.
Methods
The Site
Since the first girls-only rock camp—the Rock ‘n’ Roll Camp for Girls in Portland, Oregon—opened in 2001, more than 30 girls’ rock camps have popped up all over the world. Although each camp is independently run,2 all have adopted a similar grassroots project of empowering young girls through rock music production. These organizations share an outlook that girls and women are marginalized as cultural producers in rock music, a perception that has been repeatedly empirically confirmed (Bayton 1998; Clawson 1999; Groce and Cooper 1990; Sargent 2009). The goal of these organizations is to make the world of rock more gender integrated and, at the same time, to increase girls’ self-esteem and sense of agency. The data I present in this article are based on participant observation and interviews with volunteers at Girls Rock! Midwest (GR!M), a girls’ rock camp located in a large, Midwestern city.3 Founded in 2005, GR!M is a nonprofit organization offering a week-long summer day camp program for girls ages eight to sixteen. Campers learn how to play a rock instrument, form their own band, and at the conclusion of camp week, perform their own original song for a crowd of family, friends, and supporters. In addition to instrument lessons and band practice sessions, campers attend workshops on topics such as band promotion, careers in rock, the history of women in rock, songwriting, and zine-making. GR!M also sends campers to a recording studio where their original songs are recorded and later released on a compilation CD. The cost for attending camp is $400, but, thanks to the availability of financial aid, girls are accepted into the program regardless of ability to pay. To facilitate all of this, the organization requires a dedicated group of volunteers. Primary volunteer positions during camp week include band coaches, who guide campers through band practice sessions; counselors, who are responsible for looking after a single band and getting them from one activity to the next; and instrument instructors, who teach campers the basics of their respective instruments.
As a woman who plays the drums, I was intrigued when I first read about girls’ rock camps in feminist zines. In early 2008, I approached the director of GR!M with the idea of researching the organization, describing my interest as “wanting to learn more about how girls’ rock camps empower girls.” I presented my interest in such broad and vague terms because at the time, I was not sure exactly what I wanted to study or what I might find, especially since I had only read about—not actually participated in—the camp program. When presenting myself to the organization, I shared my own experiences as a woman who plays the drums as well as the impact that Riot Grrrl had on me musically and politically. I sent a formal proposal to the Board of Directors, which was immediately approved.
Fieldwork
During the summer of 2008, I volunteered as a drum instructor and observed the activities of the camp program. My fieldwork took place during the actual week of camp (which was held at a large elementary school in the city’s northside), the end-of-camp showcase at a local venue, and the recording sessions at an independently run studio. In addition to volunteering as a drum instructor, I was invited to co-coach a band with another volunteer. Although volunteering allowed me to be an active participant during the week and to experience the everyday activities of the program, it prevented me from observing other instrument lessons and band practice sessions when I had to fulfill my responsibilities as drum instructor and band coach. I was, however, able to attend the workshops offered throughout the week. There was not much free time during the day to step away and take notes, but sometimes during band performances I was able to jot down brief observations—until campers would grab me to dance along to the music. When I got home at the end of each day, I typed up and elaborated on my handwritten field notes.
Interviews
After camp week, I conducted fifteen semistructured interviews with volunteers from GR!M.4 Interview participants have held numerous (and often multiple) positions at the organization, including current and former board members, band coaches, counselors, instrument instructors, and workshop presenters. Four interviewees were members of the group that founded the organization. Participant ages ranged from 21 to 41, with the average age being 29. All participants self-identified as feminist, with some crediting the Riot Grrrl movement as their inspiration for playing music and for why they became feminists.5 I conducted face-to-face interviews in a location chosen by each participant and recorded on a digital audio recorder. Interviews ranged from 45 minutes to three hours in length, but most were about 90 minutes long. I asked each interviewee the same general questions, including how they initially got involved with the program, why it is important to them, and what they do at the organization. The open-endedness of the questions allowed participants to speak about issues and topics that interested them. To code and analyze my collection of field notes and interview transcripts, I read through transcripts of field notes and each interview numerous times, categorizing and sorting my data based on emerging salient themes. My analysis in this article explores patterns in participants’ talk about feminism and feminist activism within this space.
“Something Familiar with a Feminist Twist”: The Feminist Foundations of Girls’ Rock Camp
“Everything about rock camp is feminist,” declares Carrie, a cofounder and instrument instructor at GR!M. For the volunteers I interviewed, feminism is intimately intertwined with the mission and activities of GR!M, as one organizer describes it as “something familiar [a summer camp] with a feminist twist.” Kathi, a cofounder and band coach, feels that “it [feminism] is just so intrinsically apart of the camp that it’s hard to separate it out from everything else” and that “feminism is just infused throughout camp.” Interviewees overwhelmingly interpret themselves and the organization as feminist, specifically in continuing a feminist tradition of using cultural production as a means of resistance and route to empowerment. Cultural production is an important site of feminist consciousness raising, praxis, and struggle that is often associated with—but not reducible to—the “third wave” of feminism, specifically the Riot Grrrl movement of the early 1990s (Schilt and Zobl 2008). GR!M draws on the “do-it-yourself” (DIY) ethos of Riot Grrrl politics that emphasizes “process, not product [and] the empowerment that comes from ‘getting up and doing it’” (Reynolds and Press 1996, 328). By giving girls access to and control over creating their own musical and written expression in the form of bands and zines, organizers hope to encourage girls to participate more actively in the production of culture, to provide a grassroots strategy for resisting the cultural devaluation of girls, and to connect girls with a community of other people who are interested in making music. Rock camp, consequently, is about more than girls screaming into microphones or strumming their guitars—or as Donna, a board member and counselor, explains, “It’s not just about the music.” Kathi clarifies how the organization “gives girls a way to express themselves through music . . . you know, giving them confidence, giving them a voice, giving them a community with other likeminded girls. It fosters all these things, and music happens to be the mediator.” Production and performance of rock music functions as a political tool for personal empowerment and collective resistance, something that these volunteers see as feminist.
Volunteers convey a clear understanding of themselves and the organization as feminist. Although they envision their efforts as transmitting feminism—specifically feminist cultural production—to a new generation, as Tegan, an instrument instructor, points out, volunteers do all of this “without actually calling it feminist.” Why would these feminist volunteers organize what they interpret as a feminist project “without actually calling it feminist”? Feminism is not explicitly discussed during camp week, nor is it explicitly present in any promotional materials. The mission statement, for instance, describes the organization as “dedicated to fostering girls’ creative expression, positive self-esteem, and community awareness through rock music” and proclaims that “rock music can be a crucial tool in allowing young women to respond to preconceived notions of what they can do and what they can become.” Feminism is a “missing presence” in the organization—volunteers see feminism embedded in all aspects of the organization at the same time that it is never explicitly defined or discussed. But why practice feminism “without actually calling it feminist”? Answering this question necessitates examining the conditions of their practices—conditions that are unique to their position as a mainstream organization for girls in a socially and politically “postfeminist” context—and how it might complicate their decisions on how to “do” feminism.
Feminism “Without Actually Calling it Feminist”: Implicit Feminism as Activist Strategy
Organizers at GR!M are attempting to empower girls through feminist cultural production in a world hostile to feminism. Many volunteers recognize that feminism carries a stigma with it in the 2000s—a stereotype of man-hating, bra-burning, angry women. At the same time, volunteers also lament the commodification of feminism and many young people’s ambivalence about feminism. Because of the social and political context in which they are organizing, organizers need to make strategic decisions about how to accomplish their goals and survive—in other words, they must figure out how to practice feminism while still attracting campers, their parents, and funders in an anti- and postfeminist context. Organizers respond to this dilemma by employing implicit feminism. Implicit feminism is a strategy practiced by feminist activists within organizations that are operating in an anti- and postfeminist environment that involves concealing feminist identities, not labeling feminist ideas as such, and emphasizing more socially acceptable angles of their efforts to those outside of the organization. Implicit feminism leaves room for interpretation, allowing volunteers, campers, and supporters to take away all sorts of messages from organizational activities, both feminist and not, while still supporting and working toward the organization’s explicit mission of empowering girls through rock music production. I demonstrate how volunteers draw on implicit feminism as a strategy in order to navigate the following competing organizational dilemmas: (1) generating interest and support from parents and funders; (2) bringing together multiple feminist volunteers; and (3) transmitting feminism without alienating campers.
Appealing to Funders and Parents
During camp week, as another volunteer and I moved drum kits around the building, Carrie approached us, upset that Molly, the camp director, scheduled a band with the word “pussy” in their name to play for campers at the end of the week. Carrie was convinced that parents would “freak out” over the band name. In the end, the band did play, but they were introduced with a slight modification to part of their name: pussycat. Carrie seemed less concerned about how campers might react to the word “pussy” and much more anxious about how parents might react. This was an especially relevant concern since that same week the Rock ‘n’ Roll Camp for Girls in Portland had been in the news for handing out mix CDs with songs from the Riot Grrrl band Bikini Kill, whose sexually explicit lyrics and controversial song topics were deemed inappropriate by some parents (Kissee 2008). Because of instances such as these, volunteers struggle with how and if they should explicitly present the feminist frameworks organizing these programs.
As an entirely volunteer-run organization, GR!M relies heavily on private donations, community fundraisers, and grant money to keep the program going. Consequently, organizers consciously strategize about how rock camps are presented to potential funders—people who might not be comfortable with overt feminism. For instance, when talking about grant applications, Kathi explains that “we have applied for grants from feminist agencies, so we might talk about feminism there, but we probably won’t mention anything about feminism in, say, a Bank of America grant.” Instead of explicitly highlighting what many volunteers see as the feminist foundations of the program, they emphasize the importance of rock camps for improving girls’ self-esteem. Framing the purpose of the organization this way reflects larger societal concerns about girls that have surfaced in recent years—that girls’ self-esteem is plummeting and that corrective action must be taken to give girls their “voice” back (Gilligan and Brown 1992; Pipher 1994). Not being explicit about feminism allows them to pick and choose how and to whom they communicate any feminist frameworks.
Most volunteer concerns about legitimacy, however, center around parents. Girls’ rock camps are geared toward youth, meaning that parental (or guardian) support is essential. Girls interested in participating need permission from their parents to enroll in the program, and parents usually also cover the cost for attending. As Janet recalls, while forming the organization, decisions about the presentation of feminism were considered in relation to their “customer” base, which includes young girls, and importantly, parents: “Obviously, what the camp is attempting to do—self-reliance and strengthened self-esteem through music—is feminist in and of itself, but there’s still a negative stereotype of feminism that a lot of people buy into, and we didn’t want to alienate any parents by coming off as having a secret, militant separatist lesbian feminist agenda.” Because of these concerns, feminism sometimes has to be “toned down” or muted. Janet continues:
We’re dealing with protective parents of little kids. They don’t want to think that they’re sending their innocent little princess off to an anarchic-hippie-punk collective, only to have her come home looking like G.I. Jane and telling her dad that his penis is oppressive. You have to be a little more middle-ground and family-friendly, and if that means not being overt about the f-word [referring to feminism], so be it.
For Janet and other volunteers, being “middle-ground and family-friendly” equates to downplaying feminism. One easy avenue toward that goal is to play up the family-friendly (and less obviously feminist) angle of the organization: “self-reliance and strengthened self-esteem through music.” This language is closely aligned with mainstream pro-girl rhetoric that resonates with both feminist and nonfeminist identified parents. By emphasizing how rock camp addresses these popular (and coincidentally, feminist) concerns about girls, volunteers are able to make the organization more palatable to a wider audience.
Bringing (Feminist) Volunteers Together
Not only must the mission appeal to those outside of the organization—people who may or may not be friendly toward feminist politics—but it must also appeal to those volunteering for the organization. An overwhelming majority of volunteers identify themselves and the organization as feminist; however, feminism is not a fixed and uncontested concept; feminist identities and practices are complex and dynamic. Organizations play an important role in shaping participants’ feminisms, sometimes struggling to nurture multiple feminist identities while still maintaining a sense of group purpose (Reger 2002). Bringing together multiple feminisms can complicate activist efforts and requires complex strategies to ensure an internally successful organization. Consequently, organizers must figure out how to support the multiple feminist identities and perspectives of volunteers while still maintaining a sense of group purpose and solidarity.
Organizers at GR!M recognize that there are multiple ways of being feminist and doing feminism. Carrie asserts that “everyone defines [feminism] in their own way and acts it out in their own way, whether being really loud and in your face about it or doing things that women aren’t supposed to do or just talking about it.” Because of this, volunteers avoid imposing a singular version of feminism, as one volunteer even told me that “all of our definitions of feminism are different; feminism is whatever it means to you.” Rather than spending time debating and taking an official stance on feminism, organizers create a mission that is broad enough to appeal to feminists from multiple backgrounds. Carrie explains how “the whole concept of empowering girls is a feminist move. I think it’s something that all feminists can see as an act of feminism.” Interestingly, then, implicit feminism works here as well: Since the organization does not take a formal feminist stance, it allows volunteers to practice feminism without worrying about what kind of feminism they are doing. Implicit feminism brings together volunteers who have different understandings of and approaches to feminism while still supporting the agreed upon goal of empowering girls through rock music. After all, as Jo Freeman points out, “empowerment of women [and girls] is one of the few ideas on which feminists have agreed virtually from the beginning” (1995, 408). In addition, instead of expending organizational energy in debating who and what is or is not feminist at the organization, organizers can attend to other pressing organizational needs like finding a space for camp and acquiring amps, guitars, microphones, and other equipment for the week.
Showing Not Telling
There is a consensus among the volunteers to whom I spoke that girls’ rock camps provide a space to pass on a tradition of feminist resistance through cultural production. Although their emphasis is on developing a feminist consciousness by “getting up and doing it,” organizers still discuss whether they should include a component in the curriculum to explicitly address what they see as the feminist linage and messages behind these actions. Janet, who was involved in the formation of the organization, recalls how this issue was addressed during the initial meetings:
We talked about doing a Feminism 101 workshop for the girls to sort of give them a sense of why we’re doing the camp in the first place . . . you know, teach them a simplified history of the hows and whys without overtly indoctrinating them, but possibly sparking a sense of indignation about institutionalized, cultural gender biases . . . or at least, an interest in the concept of feminism, and an understanding that “feminism” isn’t a dirty word.
As Janet continues, however, she describes how “that idea was pretty much scrapped in favor of more concrete, hands-on workshops that promote self-reliance, independence, intelligence, strength—you know, all the things that feminism promotes without the overarching concept of ‘This is feminist, what you’re doing here!’”
Organizers agree that the camp is a feminist space, but as Janet explains, “ultimately [we] went for a ‘show’ rather than a ‘tell’ way of getting the point across.” Many volunteers want to avoid being too heavy-handed with their message and potentially alienating some campers, so what becomes more important than “telling” campers about feminism is transforming feminist theories into practical and relevant strategies for girls’ empowerment and resistance. Stressing this point, Carrie argues, “We’re not throwing [feminist] theory around with [campers]. We don’t want to lecture them. We convey all that in other ways. I mean, when you’re working with kids, you have to take that theory and transform it into something like, ‘We’re going to play music, we’re going to make buttons,’ you know? Our approach is DIY . . . DIY everything!” By putting feminist theory into practice through DIY methods of cultural production, volunteers hope to transmit feminism but do not necessarily call it that when interacting with campers.
Practicing implicit feminism also addresses concerns over maintaining girls’ agency within this adult-run organization. Although the adult volunteers are “in charge” of designing the curriculum and maintaining order, they do not actively exercise authority over the campers, and instead see themselves as facilitating girls’ engagement with cultural production. As Janet explains, “We’re not telling them what to play, what to sing about, or what to write about. Really, all we’re doing, I think, is facilitating them to create it on their own because there are so many barriers to forming their own bands . . . being able to find an instrument, find a garage, find some other girls to play with . . . that is so rare.” Volunteers like Janet recognize girls’ emerging roles as cultural producers but also acknowledge the roadblocks to gaining access to the means of production.
While volunteers do see themselves as facilitating access to, as well as training in, the means of cultural production, they do not see themselves as being the authorities on feminism and feminist cultural production. Instead, they encourage campers to create their own readings of the program. For instance, although Kathi views the camp program as feminist, she quickly clarifies how “not every kid necessarily experiences it that way,” adding that “if some ten year old doesn’t understand what feminism is or doesn’t relate to it, that’s okay. I feel like you take out of it what you want to take out of it, and it’s not just one thing.” Donna highlights the importance of the camp program being a “kid-led activity,” specifically because she feels that “what I experienced as a young girl is different from how they’re living now.” She recognizes that although girls still face difficulties during adolescence, the specific problems and cultural context are different from her own experiences as a young girl, and consequently, she does not want to impose an adult-informed view of the world on campers as they write their own songs or publish their own zines. Volunteers see cultural production as a way for campers to make something that fits their own needs and concerns, thereby recognizing girls as cultural agents who have unique experiences and standpoints that should be shared. Whether the campers write about how children’s aspirin tastes good or about killer donuts taking over the world, they are allowed to explore their own creativity and describe their experiences in their own words, giving girls an opportunity to discuss and write about issues that are important and relevant to their own lives.6
Implicit feminism allows volunteers to negotiate relationships with campers by giving them the opportunity to be cultural producers without telling them how they should do it or how it might be “feminist.” As Carrie explains, “They [campers] might not leave being like, ‘I was hanging out with a bunch of feminists.’ They might not know then, but they’ll realize later that they were living it [feminism].” In this way, volunteers make what they interpret as a feminist experience available to campers, and whether campers see it as feminist or not, they can choose how they understand it and if they want to embrace feminism.
“They Need to Know There is Still a Struggle Going on”: Potential Drawbacks of Implicit Feminism
Volunteers repeatedly emphasize how the (implicitly) feminist activities at rock camp can be liberating on a personal level, which for many, is accomplishing a major feminist goal. As Carrie explains, “if a girl feels better about herself than she did a week earlier, then we’ve accomplished something.” Corin agrees that they have “achieved some sort of feminist goal to have young girls literally grabbing drumsticks,” but she worries that “we’re not as successful at it [transmitting feminism] as we could be.” Corin thinks the “girls would respond to more overt feminism” and suggests that it might help for volunteers to “even say feminism” when interacting with campers.
Although volunteers agree that it is important and empowering to “get up and do it,” some worry that the feminist potential behind these actions might be compromised if it is not more upfront. Juliana, an instrument instructor, emphasizes how her passion for rock camp is rooted in her belief that it is a social change tool, and she stresses that “an important thing aside from learning how to act and have agency is learning how to make social change.” Like many other volunteers, Juliana recognizes the liberating potential of cultural production for the individual girl, but at the same time, she feels that feminism is about more than the individual; it is about collective social action. In this way, volunteers face a common dilemma of many feminist activists: helping people link the personal with the political—a connection that, as Janet explains, is particularly complicated by the context in which they are organizing:
There are so many girls growing up now, who, even if they don’t identify as feminist, they don’t know about these barriers. They think, “Of course a woman can be president. My mom always told me that a woman can be anything she wants.” Sure, theoretically, a woman can be anything she wants—but realistically? I think there is a gap between the theoretical and the actual. Theoretically, yes, everyone agrees that everyone should be equal. Sexism and racism are bad and that’s what we’re teaching our children. Realistically, neighborhoods are segregated, bands are segregated. I think we need to be more realistic, rather than pie-in-the-sky, “Of course, you can be anything you want!” There are some obstacles [campers] need to overcome first. I think they need to start thinking critically about it. Thinking critically about it means knowing the history of it and why it’s important, like why we’re doing this in the first place. Otherwise, I think that a lot of the point [of the camp] gets lost.
Janet’s comment demonstrates her awareness of how girls are growing up in a context in which pro-girl rhetoric pervades mainstream culture in the form of an apolitical and individualized version of “girl power” (Taft 2004). As Janet points out, this “you can do anything” discourse overemphasizes agency and obscures the ways boys/men and girls/women still experience different sets of constraints from the recording studio to the boardroom.
Beth, a board member and counselor, echoes Janet’s concerns as she wonders if the feminist possibilities of the camp are being translated to the girls. She feels that “the girls need a literal lesson [in feminism] because without something like that, I don’t know if the girls have any real reason to know that it’s . . . that the [camp] experience is limited to girls for that reason,” adding that “they need to learn about feminism in addition to just being immersed in this feminist experience.” Similarly, Kaia, a board member and instrument instructor, argues that there needs to be “more of a link between the doing [of feminism] and the information behind it, like why we are doing this [organizing a girls’ rock camp] in the first place because I don’t know if the girls necessarily see all these things.” These volunteers want the girls to understand that there is still a larger struggle going on—both on and off the stage—and to connect what they are doing at rock camp with feminist goals of social change.
Because of these concerns, some volunteers suggest having more explicit discussions of the purpose and potential of rock camp. Although Corin feels that the Monday morning history of women in rock workshop is “a great way to start the camp,” she thinks it could be “done slightly different with a talk about ‘Why is this a girls’ rock camp?’” Corin feels that asking this question could open up a dialogue with campers and help them make connections between this history and what is happening now at the camp. Some volunteers also want to be more explicit in telling campers how cultural production is a tool of social change—that is, campers should know that rock camp is “not just about the music.” As Juliana argues, “We need to be more explicit in telling them, ‘Here’s the tools to unite us as allies and to make social change together and be powerful and go out and talk to our friends and talk to boys and try to make a difference.’” Without making these connections in a more explicit way, some worry that an important point of the organization might get lost, as Janet further elaborates, “I think [the campers] need to know that there is still a struggle going on. By doing this, they’re making a political statement, and they’re being strong.” Campers can take away all sorts of messages from these activities, but for some, the connection between these actions and goals of social change is essential to realizing the potential of cultural production as a form of feminist activism and consciousness-raising.
Discussion and Conclusion
While previous work shows how nonfeminist identified individuals, groups, and organizations often engage in practices that resemble feminist activism (Blackstone 2004; Martin 1990; Pardo 1995), my research demonstrates how feminist-identified activists also employ “implicitly feminist practices.” My analysis is not intended to evaluate whether GR!M volunteers are doing feminism “right” or “wrong” but to show how self-identified feminists develop strategies for legitimating their projects while operating in a social and political context that continues to commodify, marginalize, and stigmatize feminism. Drawing on implicit feminism allows activists to respond to the dilemmas of feminist organizing while still accomplishing their goals; however, this strategy is not without its potential drawbacks.
So what does it mean for the feminist movement when we have self-identified feminists developing and managing a feminist organization “without actually calling it feminist”? This case underlines the continuing struggles of feminists to define, redefine, and practice feminism in an anti- and postfeminist environment. My conversations with GR!M volunteers suggest that rather than wrangling over the meaning of feminism, a more important issue is figuring out how to articulate the relationship between individual agency and social structures—a relationship that, as several point out, is increasingly obscured in the current context. Because of this, connecting the personal with the political and experiencing the infamous “click” (O’Reilly 1973) has become even more complicated.
This is a particularly relevant concern for a girls’ organization that is attempting to transmit feminism to the next generation. Zaslow (2009) argues that girls are experiencing “cultural discordance” because of the increasing visibility of ostensibly pro-girl rhetoric at the same time that these representations conflict with their social realities. Although girls are often aware of this incongruence between discourse and reality, Zaslow argues that “postfeminist” language makes it difficult to “parse out the political from the commodified.” As Taft (2004) points out, this presents a challenge for organizations that want to encourage girls to engage in social analysis and political participation. Indeed, although volunteers agree that improving girls’ self-esteem is a worthy goal, some worry that a focus on personal empowerment obscures the structural conditions that might be causing some girls’ self-esteem to plummet in the first place. Because of this, placing girls in an implicitly feminist space where they can engage in cultural production is not enough for those volunteers who want campers to disentangle the pro-girl messages being communicated at GR!M from the pro-girl messages to which they are constantly exposed in their daily lives7—messages that are informed by neoliberal discourses that emphasize personal choice and self-reliance (Gonick 2006). Consequently, our next major feminist project should involve figuring out how to engage young people in dialogues about power, privilege, and structure—concepts that are consistently glossed over in our increasingly neoliberal society—while still staying relevant, and even, fun.
So if all else is the same, does it matter if we label or define something or someone as “feminist?” As Taylor (1996) suggests, people can “do” feminism without identifying or interpreting what they are doing as feminist and still challenge cultural ideas surrounding gender and other socially oppressive institutions. Whether or not they explicitly represent themselves as feminist, GR!M provides a space where girls are encouraged to resist men’s control and domination of rock music production. When girls scream into microphones and strum their guitars, they are challenging the notion that playing rock music and being a cultural producer is something that only boys and men do. And quite possibly, these actions can snowball into something bigger.
Footnotes
I would like to thank William T. Bielby, Patricia Yancey Martin, Paul-Brian McInerney, Kristen R. Schilt, and members of my writing group for their insightful comments on previous versions of this article. I also would like to thank Dana Britton and the anonymous Gender & Society reviewers for their helpful feedback, and the Midwest Sociological Society for awarding an earlier draft of this paper first place in the 2010 Graduate Student Paper Competition.