T e a c h i n g to

Transgress
Education as the
Practice of Freedom

bell hooks

Routledge
New York London
Published in 1994 by Published in G reat Britain by
Routledge Routledge
Taylor & Francis G roup Taylor & Francis G roup
711 T hird Avenue 2 Park Square
New York, NY 10017 Milton Park, A bingdon
O xon OX14 4RN

C opyright © 1994 G loria W atkins

All rights reserved. No p a rt of this book may be re p rin te d or rep ro d u ce d or

utilized in any form or by any electronic, m echanical or o th e r m eans, now
known or h ereafter invented, including photocopying and recording or in
any inform ation storage or retrieval system, w ithout perm ission in writing
from the publishers.

Library o f Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

hooks, bell.
T eaching to transgress : education as the practice of freedom /
bell hooks
p. cm.
Includes index
ISBN 0-415-90807-8 — ISBN 0-415-90808-6 (pbk.)
1. Critical pedagogy. 2. Critical thinking— Study and teaching.
3. Fem inism and education. 4. T eaching. I. Title.
LC196.H66 1994
370.11 '5— dc20 94-26248
CIP
 C ontents

In tro d u c tio n I
Teaching to Transgress

1 E n g a g e d P ed ag o g y 13

2 A R ev o lu tio n o f V alues 23
The Promise of Multicultural Change

3 E m b ra c in g C h a n g e 35
Teaching in a Multicultural World

4 P au lo F re ire 45

5 T h e o ry as L ib e ra to ry P ractice 59

6 E ssentialism a n d E x p e rie n c e 77
7 H old in g M y Siste r’
sH a n d 93
Fe minist Solidarity

8 Fe m inist Th in k in g 111
In the C lassroom Right N ow

9 Fe m inist Sc holarship 119

B lack Scholars

10 B uild ing a Te ac hing C om m unity 129

A Dialogue

11 L anguage 167
Te ac hing N e w W orlds/N e w W ords

C on f ron tin g C lass

12 in th e C lassroom 177

E ros, E roticism,
13 an d th e Pe d agogical Proce ss 191

14 E cstasy 201
Te ac hing and L e arning W ithout Limits

In d e x 209
 5

T h e o ry as L ib e ra to ry Practice

I came to theory because I was hurting— the pain within m e was

so intense that I could not go on living. I came to theory des­
perate, wanting to com prehend— to grasp what was happening
around and within me. Most importantly, I wanted to make the
hurt go away. I saw in theory then a location for healing.
I came to theory young, when I was still a child. In The Sig­
nificance of Theory Terry Eagleton says:

C hildren make the best theorists, since they have n o t

yet been educated into accepting o ur ro u tin e social
practices as “n atu ral,” and so insist on posing to those
practices the m ost em barrassingly general and fu nda­
m ental questions, regarding them with a w ondering
estrangem ent which we adults have long forgotten.
Since they do n o t yet grasp ou r social practices as
inevitable, they do n o t see why we m ight n o t do things
differently.

W henever I tried in childhood to com pel folks around m e

to do things differently, to look at the world differently, using

59
60 Teaching to Transgress

theory as intervention, as a way to challenge the status quo,

I was punished. I rem em ber trying to explain at a very young
age to Mama why I th o u g h t it was highly inappropriate for
Daddy, this m an who hardly spoke to me, to have the right to
discipline me, to punish me physically with whippings. H er
response was to suggest I was losing my m ind and in need of
m ore frequen t punishm ent.
Im agine if you will this young black couple struggling first
and forem ost to realize the patriarchal norm (that is of the
woman staying hom e, taking care of the household and chil­
dren while the m an worked) even though such an arrange­
m ent m eant that economically, they would always be living with
less. Try to imagine what it m ust have been like for them , each
of them working hard all day, struggling to m aintain a family of
seven children, then having to cope with one bright-eyed child
relentlessly questioning, daring to challenge male authority,
rebelling against the very patriarchal norm they were trying so
hard to institutionalize.
It m ust have seem ed to them that some m onster had ap­
peared in their midst in the shape and body of a child—a
dem onic little figure who threatened to subvert and u n d er­
m ine all that they were seeking to build. No w onder then that
their response was to repress, contain, punish. No w onder that
Mama would say to me, now and then, exasperated, frustrated,
“I d o n ’t know where I got you from, but I sure wish I could give
you back.”
Im agine then if you will, my childhood pain. I did n ot feel
truly connected to these strange people, to these familial folks
who could n o t only fail to grasp my worldview b u t who ju st sim­
ply did n o t want to h ear it. As a child, I d id n ’t know where I
had come from. And when I was n ot desperately seeking to
belong to this family com m unity that never seem ed to accept
or want me, I was desperately trying to discover the place of
my belonging. I was desperately trying to find my way hom e.
 Theory as Liberatory Practice 61

How I envied Dorothy h er jo u rn ey in The Wizard of Oz, th at she

could travel to her worst fears and nightm ares only to find at
the end that “there is no place like h om e.” Living in childhood
w ithout a sense o f hom e, I found a place o f sanctuary in “the­
orizing,” in m aking sense out of what was happening. I found
a place where I could im agine possible futures, a place where
life could be lived differently. This “lived” experience of criti­
cal thinking, of reflection and analysis, because a place where
I worked at explaining the h u rt and m aking it go away. Fun­
damentally, I learned from this experience that theory could
be a healing place.
Psychoanalyst Alice Miller lets you know in h er introduction
to the book Prisoners of Childhood that it was h er own personal
struggle to recover from the wounds o f childhood that led h er
to rethink and theorize anew prevailing social and critical
thought about the m eaning of childhood pain, o f child abuse.
In h er adult life, through her practice, she experienced theory
as a healing place. Significantly, she had to im agine herself in
the space of childhood, to look again from that perspective, to
rem em ber “crucial inform ation, answers to questions which
had gone unansw ered th roughout [her] study of philosophy
and psychoanalysis.” W hen our lived experience of theorizing
is fundam entally linked to processes of self-recovery, of collec­
tive liberation, no gap exists between theory and practice.
Indeed, what such experience makes m ore evident is the bond
between the two— that ultimately reciprocal process wherein
one enables the other.
T heory is n ot inherently healing, liberatory, or revolution­
ary. It fulfills this function only when we ask that it do so and
direct our theorizing towards this end. W hen I was a child, I
certainly did not describe the processes of th ought and critique
I engaged in as “theorizing.” Yet, as I suggested in Feminist
Theory: From Margin to Center, the possession of a term does not
bring a process or practice into being; concurrently one may
62 Teaching to Transgress

practice theorizing w ithout ever know ing/possessing the term ,

ju st as we can live and act in fem inist resistance w ithout ever
using the word “fem inism .”
O ften individuals who employ certain term s freely—term s
like “theory” or “fem inism ”—are no t necessarily practitioners
whose habits of being and living most em body the action, the
practice of theorizing or engaging in feminist struggle. Indeed,
the privileged act of nam ing often affords those in power
access to modes of com m unication and enables them to pro­
je c t an interpretation, a definition, a description of their work
and actions, that may n o t be accurate, that may obscure what is
really taking place. Katie King’s essay “Producing Sex, Theory,
and Culture: G ay/Straight Re-Mappings in C ontem porary
Fem inism ” (in Conflicts in Feminism) offers a very useful discus­
sion of the way in which academic production of feminist theo­
ry form ulated in hierarchical settings often enables women,
particularly white women, with high status and visibility to draw
upon the works o f feminist scholars who may have less or no
status, less or no visibility, w ithout giving recognition to these
sources. King discusses the way work is appropriated and the
way readers will often attribute ideas to a well-known scho lar/
feminist thinker, even if that individual has cited in h er work
that she is building on ideas gleaned from less well-known
sources. Focusing particularly on the work of Chicana theorist
Chela Sandoval, King states, “Sandoval has been published
only sporadically and eccentrically, yet h er circulating un p u b ­
lished m anuscripts are m uch m ore cited and often appropriat­
ed, even while the range of h er influence is rarely understood. ”
Though King risks positioning herself in a caretaker role as she
rhetorically assumes the posture of fem inist authority, deter­
m ining the range and scope of Sandoval’s influence, the criti­
cal point she works to emphasize is that the production of
feminist theory is complex, that it is an individual practice less
often than we think and usually em erges from engagem ent
with collective sources. Echoing feminist theorists, especially
 Theory as Liberatory Practice 63

women of color who have worked consistently to resist the

construction of restrictive critical boundaries within feminist
thought, King encourages us to have an expansive perspective
on the theorizing process.
Critical reflection on contem porary production of feminist
theory makes it apparent that the shift from early conceptual­
izations of fem inist theory (which insisted that it was most vital
when it encouraged and enabled fem inist practice) begins to
occur or at least becom es most obvious with the segregation
and institutionalization of the feminist theorizing process in
the academy, with the privileging of written feminist th o u g h t/
theory over oral narratives. Concurrently, the efforts of black
women and women of color to challenge and deconstruct the
category “w om an”— the insistence on recognition that gender
is not the sole factor determ ining constructions of female­
ness—was a critical intervention, one which led to a profound
revolution in feminist thought and truly interrogated and dis­
ru p ted the hegem onic feminist theory produced primarily by
academic women, m ost of whom were white.
In the wake of this disruption, the assault on white suprem a­
cy m ade m anifest in alliances between white women academics
and white male peers seems to have been form ed and n u rtu red
around com m on efforts to form ulate and impose standards of
critical evaluation that would be used to define what is theoret­
ical and what is not. These standards often led to appropriation
a n d /o r devaluation of work that did not “fit,” that was sudden­
ly deem ed no t theoretical—or not theoretical enough. In some
circles, there seems to be a direct connection between white
feminist scholars turning towards critical work and theory by
white m en, and the turning away of white feminist scholars
from fully respecting and valuing the critical insights and theo­
retical offerings of black women or women of color.
Work by women of color and marginalized groups or white
women (for example, lesbians, sex radicals), especially if writ­
ten in a m anner that renders it accessible to a broad reading
64 Teaching to Transgress

public, is often de-legitimized in academic settings, even if that

work enables and prom otes feminist practice. T hough such
work is often appropriated by the very individuals setting re­
strictive critical standards, it is this work that they most often
claim is not really theory. Clearly, one of the uses these individ­
uals make of theory is instrum ental. They use it to set up unnec­
essary and com peting heirarchies of thought which reinscribe
the politics of dom ination by designating work as either inferi­
or, superior, or m ore or less worthy of attention. King em pha­
sizes that “theory finds different uses in different locations.” It
is evident that one of the many uses of theory in academic loca­
tions is in the production of an intellectual class hierarchy
where the only work deem ed truly theoretical is work that is
highly abstract, jargonistic, difficult to read, and containing
obscure references. In Childers and hooks’s “A Conversation
about Race and Class” (also in Conflicts in Feminism) literary crit­
ic Mary Childers declares that it is highly ironic that “a certain
kind of theoretical perform ance which only a small cadre of
people can possibly u n d erstan d ” has come to be seen as repre­
sentative of any production of critical thought that will be given
recognition within many academic circles as “theory.” It is espe­
cially ironic when this is the case with feminist theory. And, it is
easy to imagine different locations, spaces outside academic
exchange, where such theory would n o t only be seen as useless,
but as politically nonprogressive, a kind of narcissistic, self-
indulgent practice that most seeks to create a gap between the­
ory and practice so as to perpetuate class elitism. T here are so
many settings in this country where the written word has only
slight visual m eaning, where individuals who cannot read or
write can find no use for a published theory however lucid or
opaque. H ence, any theory that cannot be shared in everyday
conversation cannot be used to educate the public.
Im agine what a change has come about within feminist
movements when students, most of whom are female, come to
 Theory as Liberatory Practice 65

W om en’s Studies classes and read what they are told is feminist
theory only to feel that what they are reading has no m eaning,
cannot be understood, or when understood in no way connects
to “lived” realities beyond the classroom. As feminist activists we
m ight ask ourselves, of what use is feminist theory that assaults
the fragile psyches of women struggling to throw off patri­
archy’s oppressive yoke? We m ight ask ourselves, of what use is
feminist theory that literally beats them down, leaves them
stumbling bleary-eyed from classroom settings feeling hum iliat­
ed, feeling as though they could easily be standing in a living
room or bedroom somewhere naked with som eone who has
seduced them or is going to, who also subjects them to a
process of interaction that humiliates, that strips them of their
sense of value? Clearly, a feminist theory that can do this may
function to legitimize W om en’s Studies and feminist scholar­
ship in the eyes of the ruling patriarchy, but it underm ines and
subverts feminist movements. Perhaps it is the existence of this
most highly visible feminist theory that compels us to talk about
the gap between theory and practice. For it is indeed the pur­
pose of such theory to divide, separate, exclude, keep at a dis­
tance. And because this theory continues to be used to silence,
censor, and devalue various feminist theoretical voices, we can­
not simply ignore it. Yet, despite its uses as an instrum ent of
dom ination, it may also contain im portant ideas, thoughts,
visions, that could, if used differently, serve a healing, liberato­
ry function. However, we cannot ignore the dangers it poses to
feminist struggle which must be rooted in a theory that in­
forms, shapes, and makes feminist practice possible.
W ithin feminist circles, many women have responded to
hegem onic feminist theory that does n o t speak clearly to us by
trashing theory, and, as a consequence, fu rth er prom oting the
false dichotom y between theory and practice. H ence, they col­
lude with those whom they would oppose. By internalizing the
false assumption that theory is not a social practice, they pro­
66 Teaching to Transgress

mote the form ation within feminist circles of a potentially op­

pressive hierarchy where all concrete action is viewed as m ore
im portant than any theory written or spoken. Recently, I went
to a gathering of predom inantly black women where we dis­
cussed w hether or n ot black male leaders, such as Martin
L uther King and Malcolm X, should be subjected to feminist
critiques that pose hard questions about their stance on gender
issues. T he entire discussion was less than two hours. As it drew
to a close, a black woman who had been particularly silent, said
that she was n o t interested in all this theory and rhetoric, all
this talk, that she was m ore interested in action, in doing some­
thing, that she was just “tired” of all the talk.
This w om an’s response disturbed me: it is a familiar reac­
tion. Perhaps in h er daily life she inhabits a world different
from mine. In the world I live in daily, there are few occasions
when black women or women-of-color thinkers come together
to debate rigorously issues of race, gender, class, and sexuality.
Therefore, I did no t know where she was com ing from when
she suggested that the discussion we were having was com m on,
so com m on as to be som ething we could dispense with or do
without. I felt that we were engaged in a process of critical dia­
logue and theorizing that has long been taboo. H ence, from
my perspective we were charting new journeys, claiming for
ourselves as black women an intellectual terrain where we
could begin the collective construction of feminist theory.
In many black settings, I have witnessed the dismissal of
intellectuals, the putting down of theory, and rem ained silent.
I have come to see that silence is an act of complicity, one that
helps perpetuate the idea that we can engage in revolutionary
black liberation and feminist struggle w ithout theory. Like
many insurgent black intellectuals, whose intellectual work and
teaching is often done in predom inantly white settings, I am
often so pleased to be engaged with a collective group of black
folks that I do n o t want to make waves, or make myself an out-
 Theory as Liberatory Practice 67

sider by disagreeing with the group. In such settings, when the

work of intellectuals is devalued, I have in the past rarely con­
tested prevailing assumptions, or have spoken affirmatively or
ecstatically about intellectual process. I was afraid that if I took
a stance that insisted on the im portance of intellectual work,
particularly theorizing, or if I ju st simply stated that I thought it
was im portant to ready widely, I would risk being seen as uppi­
ty, or as lording it over. I have often rem ained silent.
These risks to o n e ’s sense of self now seem trite when
considered in relation to the crises we are facing as African
Americans, to our desperate need to rekindle and sustain the
flame of black liberation struggle. At the gathering I m en­
tioned, I dared to speak, saying in response to the suggestion
that we were ju st wasting ou r time talking, that I saw our words
as an action, that our collective struggle to discuss issues of gen­
der and blackness w ithout censorship was subversive practice.
Many of the issues that we continue to confront as black people
—low self-esteem, intensified nihilism and despair, repressed
rage and violence that destroys our physical and psychological
well-being—cannot be addressed by survival strategies that have
worked in the past. I insisted that we needed new theories
rooted in an attem pt to understand both the nature of our con­
tem porary predicam ent and the m eans by which we m ight col­
lectively engage in resistance that would transform our cu rren t
reality. I was, however, not as rigorous and relentless as I would
have been in a different setting in my efforts to emphasize the
im portance of intellectual work, the production of theory as a
social practice that can be liberatory. T hough n ot afraid to
speak, I did no t want to be seen as the one who “spoiled” the
good time, the collective sense of sweet solidarity in blackness.
This fear rem inded me of what it was like m ore than ten years
ago to be in feminist settings, posing questions about theory
and practice, particularly about issues of race and racism that
were seen as potentially disruptive of sisterhood and solidarity.
68 Teaching to Transgress

It seemed ironic that at a gathering called to h o n o r Martin

Luther King, Jr., who had often dared to speak and act in resis­
tance to the status quo, black women were still negating our
right to engage in oppositional political dialogue and debate,
especially since this is n o t a com m on occurrence in black com­
munities. Why did the black women there feel the need to
police one another, to deny one another a space within black­
ness where we could talk theory w ithout being self-conscious?
Why, when we could celebrate together the power of a black
male critical thinker who dared to stand apart, was there this
eagerness to repress any viewpoint that would suggest we m ight
collectively learn from the ideas and visions of insurgent black
female intellectuals/theorists, who by the nature of the work
they do are necessarily breaking with the stereotype that would
have us believe the “real” black woman is always the one who
speaks from the gut, who righteously praises the concrete over
the abstract, the material over the theoretical?
Again and again, black women find our efforts to speak, to
break silence and engage in radical progressive political de­
bates, opposed. There is a link between the silencing we experi­
ence, the censoring, the anti-intellectualism in predom inantly
black settings that are supposedly supportive (like all-black
woman space), and that silencing that takes place in institutions
wherein black women and women of color are told that we can­
not be fully heard or listened to because our work is not theo­
retical enough. In “Travelling Theory: Cultural Politics of Race
and R epresentation,” cultural critic Kobena M ercer rem inds us
that blackness is complex and m ultifaceted and that black peo­
ple can be interpolated into reactionary and antidem ocratic
politics. Just as some elite academics who construct theories of
“blackness” in ways that make it a critical terrain which only the
chosen few can enter—using theoretical work on race to assert
their authority over black experience, denying dem ocratic ac­
cess to the process of theory making—threaten collective black
 Theory as Liberatory Practice 69

liberation struggle, so do those am ong us who react to this by

prom oting anti-intellectualism by declaring all theory as worth­
less. By reinforcing the idea that there is a split between theory
and practice or by creating such a split, both groups deny the
power of liberatory education for critical consciousness, there­
by perpetuating conditions that reinforce our collective exploi­
tation and repression.
I was rem inded recently of this dangerous anti-intellectual­
ism when I agreed to appear on a radio show with a group of
black women and m en to discuss Shahrazad Ali’s The
Blackman’s Guide to Understanding the Blackwoman. I listened to
speaker after speaker express contem pt for intellectual work,
and speak against any call for the production of theory. O ne
black woman was vehem ent in h er insistence that “we d o n ’t
need no theory.” Ali’s book, through written in plain language,
in a style that makes use of engaging black vernacular, has a
theoretical foundation. It is rooted in theories of patriarchy
(for example, the sexist, essentialist belief that male dom ina­
tion of females is “n atu ral”), that misogyny is the only possible
response black m en can have to any attem pt by women to be
fully self-actualized. Many black nationalists will eagerly em ­
brace critical theory and th ought as a necessary weapon in the
struggle against white supremacy, b ut suddenly lose the insight
that theory is im portant when it comes to questions of gender,
of analyzing sexism and sexist oppression in the particular and
specific ways it is m anifest in black experience. The discussion
of Ali’s book is one of many possible examples illustrating the
way contem pt and disregard for theory underm ines collective
struggle to resist oppression and exploitation.
W ithin revolutionary feminist movements, within revolu­
tionary black liberation struggles, we must continually claim
theory as necessary practice within a holistic framework of lib­
eratory activism. We m ust do m ore than call attention to ways
theory is misused. We m ust do m ore than critique the conserva­
70 Teaching to Transgress

tive and at times reactionary uses some academic women make

of feminist theory. We must actively work to call attention to the
im portance of creating a theory that can advance renewed fem­
inist movements, particularly highlighting that theory which
seeks to further feminist opposition to sexism, and sexist op­
pression. Doing this, we necessarily celebrate and value theory
that can be and is shared in oral as well as written narrative.
Reflecting on my own work in feminist theory, I find writing
—theoretical talk—to be most m eaningful when it invites read­
ers to engage in critical reflection and to engage in the practice
of feminism. To me, this theory emerges from the concrete,
from my efforts to make sense of everyday life experiences,
from my efforts to intervene critically in my life and the lives of
others. This to me is what makes feminist transform ation possi­
ble. Personal testimony, personal experience, is such fertile
ground for the production of liberatory feminist theory
because it usually forms the base of our theory making. While
we work to resolve those issues that are most pressing in daily
life (our need for literacy, an end to violence against women
and children, w om en’s health and reproductive rights, and sex­
ual freedom , to nam e a few), we engage in a critical process of
theorizing that enables and empowers. I continue to be amazed
that there is so m uch feminist writing produced and yet so little
feminist theory that strives to speak to women, m en and chil­
dren about ways we m ight transform our lives via a conversion
to feminist practice. W here can we find a body of feminist theo­
ry that is directed toward helping individuals integrate feminist
thinking and practice into daily life? W hat feminist theory, for
example, is directed toward assisting women who live in sexist
households in their efforts to bring about feminist change?
We know that many individuals in the U nited States have
used feminist thinking to educate themselves in ways that allow
them to transform their lives. I am often critical of a life-style-
based feminism, because I fear that any feminist transform a­
 Theory as Liberatory Practice 71

tional process that seeks to change society is easily co-opted if it

is not rooted in a political com m itm ent to mass-based feminist
movement. W ithin white suprem acist capitalist patriarchy, we
have already witnessed the com m odification of feminist think­
ing (just as we experience the com m odification of blackness)
in ways that make it seem as though one can partake of the
“good” that these movements produce w ithout any com m it­
m ent to transformative politics and practice. In this capitalist
culture, feminism and feminist theory are fast becom ing a
commodity that only the privileged can afford. This process of
com m odification is disrupted and subverted when as feminist
activists we affirm our com m itm ent to a politicized revolu­
tionary feminist m ovem ent that has as its central agenda the
transform ation of society. From such a starting point, we auto­
matically think of creating theory that speaks to the widest
audience of people. I have written elsewhere, and shared in
num erous public talks and conversations, that my decisions
about writing style, about no t using conventional academic for­
mats, are political decisions motivated by the desire to be inclu­
sive, to reach as many readers as possible in as many different
locations. This decision has had consequences both positive
and negative. Students at various academic institutions often
com plain that they cannot include my work on required read­
ing lists for degree-oriented qualifying exams because their
professors do no t see it as scholarly enough. Any of us who cre­
ate fem inist theory and feminist writing in academic settings in
which we are continually evaluated know that work deem ed
“not scholarly” or “n o t theoretical” can result in one no t receiv­
ing deserved recognition and reward.
Now, in my life these negative responses seem insignificant
when com pared to the overwhelmingly positive responses to
my work both in and outside the academy. Recently, I have
received a spate of letters from incarcerated black m en who
read my work and wanted to share that they are working to
72 Teaching to Transgress

unlearn sexism. In one letter, the writer affectionately boasted

that he has m ade my nam e a “household word around that
prison.” These m en talk about solitary critical reflection, about
using this feminist work to understand the implications of
patriarchy as a force shaping their identities, their ideas of
m anhood. After receiving a powerful critical response by one
of these black m en to my book Yearning: Race, Gender and
Cultural Politics, I closed my eyes and visualized that work being
read, studied, talked about in prison settings. Since the loca­
tion that has most spoken back to me critically about the study
of my work is usually an academic one, I share this with you n o t
to brag or be immodest, but to testify, to let you know from first­
hand experience that all our feminist theory directed at trans­
form ing consciousness, that truly wants to speak with diverse
audiences, does work: this is n o t a naive fantasy.
In m ore recent talks, I have spoken about how “blessed” I
feel to have my work affirm ed in this way, to be am ong those
feminist theorists creating work that acts as a catalyst for social
change across false boundaries. T here were many times early
on when my work was subjected to forms of dismissal and deval­
uation that created within me a profound despair. I think such
despair has been felt by every black woman or woman-of-color
th in k er/th eo rist whose work is oppositional and moves against
the grain. Certainly Michele Wallace has written poignantly in
h er introduction to the re-issue of Black Macho and the Myth of
the Superwoman that she was devastated and for a time silenced
by the negative critical responses to h er early work.
I am grateful that I can stand here and testify that if we hold
fast to our beliefs that feminist thinking m ust be shared with
everyone, w hether through talking or writing, and create theo­
ry with this agenda in m ind we can advance feminist m ovem ent
that folks will long—yes, yearn— to be a part of. I share feminist
thinking and practice wherever I am. W hen asked to talk in
 Theory as Liberatory Practice 73

university settings, I search out o th er settings or respond to

those who search me out so that I can give the riches of femi­
nist thinking to anyone. Sometimes settings em erge sponta­
neously. At a black-owned restaurant in the South, for instance,
I sat for hours with a diverse group of black women and m en
from various class backgrounds discussing issues o f race, gen­
der and class. Some of us were college-educated, others were
not. We had a heated discussion of abortion, discussing
w hether black women should have the right to choose. Several
of the Afrocentric black m en present were arguing that the
male should have as m uch choice as the female. O ne of the
feminist black women present, a director of a health clinic for
women, spoke eloquently and convincingly about a w om an’s
right to choose.
D uring this h eated discussion one of the black women pre­
sent who had been silent for a long time, who hesitated before
she entered the conversation because she was unsure about
w hether or n o t she could convey the complexity of her thought
in black vernacular speech (in such a way that we, the listeners,
would hear and understand and not make fun of h er w ords),
came to voice. As I was leaving, this sister came up to me and
grasped both my hands tightly, firmly, and thanked me for the
discussion. She prefaced h er words of gratitude by sharing that
the conversation had not only enabled h er to give voice to feel­
ings and ideas she had always “kep t” to herself, bu t that by say­
ing it she had created a space for her and h er p artn er to
change thought and action. She stated this to me directly, in­
tently, as we stood facing one another, holding my hands and
saying again and again, “th e re’s been so m uch h u rt in m e.” She
gave thanks that our meeting, our theorizing of race, gender,
and sexuality that afternoon had eased h er pain, testifying that
she could feel the h u rt going away, that she could feel a healing
taking place within. H olding my hands, standing body to body,
74 Teaching to Transgress

eye to eye, she allowed me to share em pathically the warm th of

that healing. She wanted me to bear witness, to hear again both
the nam ing of h er pain and the power that em erged when she
felt the h u rt go away.
It is not easy to nam e our pain, to make it a location for the­
orizing. Patricia Williams, in her essay “O n Being the O bject of
Property” (in The Alchemy of Race and Rights), writes that even
those of us who are “aware” are m ade to feel the pain that all
forms of dom ination (hom ophobia, class exploitation, racism,
sexism, imperialism) engender.

There are moments in my life when I feel as though a

part of me is missing. There are days when I feel so
invisible that I can’t remember what day of the week it
is, when I feel so manipulated that I can’t remember
my own name, when I feel so lost and angry that I can’t
speak a civil word to the people who love me best.
These are the times when I catch sight of my reflection
in store windows and am surprised to see a whole per­
son looking back . . . I have to close my eyes at such
times and remember myself, draw an internal pattern
that is smooth and whole.

It is not easy to nam e our pain, to theorize from that

location.
I am grateful to the many women and m en who dare to cre­
ate theory from the location of pain and struggle, who coura­
geously expose wounds to give us their experience to teach and
guide, as a m eans to chart new theoretical journeys. T heir work
is liberatory. It no t only enables us to rem em ber and recover
ourselves, it charges and challenges us to renew our com m it­
m ent to an active, inclusive fem inist struggle. We have still to
collectively make feminist revolution. I am grateful that we are
collectively searching as feminist thinkers/theorists for ways to
make this m ovem ent happen. O ur search leads us back to
where it all began, to that m om ent when an individual woman
 Theory as Liberatory Practice 75

or child, who may have thought she was all alone, began a fem­
inist uprising, began to nam e her practice, indeed began to for­
mulate theory from lived experience. Let us im agine that this
woman or child was suffering the pain of sexism and sexist
oppression, that she w anted to make the h u rt go away. I am
grateful that I can be a witness, testifying that we can create a
feminist theory, a feminist practice, a revolutionary feminist
m ovem ent that can speak directly to the pain that is within
folks, and offer them healing words, healing strategies, healing
theory. T here is no one am ong us who has no t felt the pain of
sexism and sexist oppression, the anguish that male dom ina­
tion can create in daily life, the profound and unrelenting mis­
ery and sorrow.
Mari Matsuda has told us that “we are fed a lie that there is
no pain in war,” and that patriarchy makes this pain possible.
Catharine M acKinnon rem inds us that “we know things with
our lives and we live that knowledge, beyond what any theory
has yet theorized. ” Making this theory is the challenge before
us. For in its production lies the hope of our liberation, in its
production lies the possibility of nam ing all our pain—of mak­
ing all our h u rt go away. If we create feminist theory, feminist
m ovements that address this pain, we will have no difficulty
building a mass-based feminist resistance struggle. T here will
be no gap between fem inist theory and feminist practice.