Sisterhood Is Global: The International Women's Movement Anthology

INTRODUCTION

PLANETARY FEMINISM: The Politics of the 21st Century

by Robin Morgan

Sisterhood Is Global is being published in the year 1984, the year George Orwell chose, almost four decades earlier, for the title and the time period of his now classic dystopian novel. Orwell’s 1984 predicted a nightmarish future: a world in chronic war, its peoples cynically manipulated by three megapowers, its societies mirror images of each other in terms of sophisticated technology, mind control, rigid job, class, racial, and ethnic classification, sentimental quasi-religiosity, literary and political censorship, total suppression of human rights including sexual and reproductive freedom, and communication through patriotic propagandistic double-talk. War is Peace, proclaims Big Brother, the Dictator, Freedom is Slavery, Ignorance is Strength. To rebel is to invite torture, attitude reprogramming, or death. Indeed, there is no rebellion that has not been anticipated and prepared against in advance through the co-optation or the crushing of those who revolt.

The year 1984 has arrived in reality. The planet is manipulated by a few superpower nations promulgating adversarial ideologies but acting in mirror-image fashion. Corporate capitalism and State capitalism between them control sophisticated technology and world markets. Propaganda—whether from government ministries, advertising agencies, or the two in league with each other—manipulates human attitudes. Religious fundamentalism breathes its hoarse condemnation across entire regions. Literary and political censorship ranges from the brutal (torture of the outspoken) to the subtle (simple erasure of the utterance). Human rights in any full sense has become as much an empty cliché as the double-talk phrases pacification battle, pre-emptive defense attack, and armaments buildup for maintaining the peace. Wars are chronic; natural resources are being depleted or polluted rapidly and beyond revitalization; hunger and homelessness increase along with the population; revolutions become counterrevolutionary since there is no rebellion not, anticipated and prepared against in advance. Big Brother smiles patriarchally from television sets in the United States and Western and Eastern Europe, from posters in Moscow and Beijing, from podiums in Africa and the Middle East, from military-review grandstands in Latin America.

But there is one factor neither Orwell nor Big Brother anticipated or prepared against: women as a world political force.

Because virtually all existing countries are structured by patriarchal mentality, the standard for being human is being male—and female human beings per se become other, and invisible. This permits governments and international bodies to discuss the world’s problems—war, poverty, refugees, hunger, disease, illiteracy, overpopulation, ecological imbalance, the abuse or exploitation of children and the elderly etc.—without noticing that those who suffer most from the world’s problems are women, who, in addition are not consulted about possible solutions.

While women represent half the global population and one-third of the labor force, they receive only one-tenth of the world income and own less than one percent of world property. They also are responsible for two-thirds of all working hours, said former UN Secretary General Kurt Waldheim in his Report to the UN Commission on the Status of Women.¹ This was a diplomatic understatement of the situation.

Two out of three of the world’s illiterates are now women, and while the general illiteracy rate is falling, the female illiteracy rate is rising. One third of all families in the world are headed by women. In the developing countries, almost half of all single women over age fifteen are mothers. Only one third of the world’s women have any access to contraceptive information or devices, and more than one half have no access to trained help during pregnancy and childbirth. Women in the developing world are responsible for more than 50 percent of all food production (on the African continent women do 60 to 80 percent of all agricultural work, 50 percent of all animal husbandry, and 100 percent of all food processing). In industrialized countries, women still are paid only one half to three quarters of what men earn at the same jobs, still are ghettoized into lower-paying female-intensive job categories, and still are the last hired and the first fired; in Europe and North America, women constitute over 40 percent of the paid labor force, in addition to contributing more than 40 percent of the Gross Domestic Product in unpaid labor in the home. As of 1982, 30 million people were unemployed in the industrialized countries and 800 million people in the Third World were living in absolute poverty; most of those affected are migrant workers and their families, youth, the disabled, and the aged—and the majority of all those categories are women. Approximately 500 million people suffer from hunger and malnutrition; the most seriously affected are children under age five and women. Twenty million persons die annually of hunger-related causes and one billion endure chronic undernourishment and other poverty deprivations; the majority are women and children.² And this is only part of the picture.

Not only are females most of the poor, the starving, and the illiterate, but women and children constitute more than 90 percent of all refugee populations. Women outlive men in most cultures and therefore are the elderly of the world, as well as being the primary caretakers of the elderly. The abuse of children is a women’s problem because women must bear responsibility for children in virtually all cultures, and also because it is mostly female children who are abused—nutritionally, educationally, sexually, psychologically, etc. Since women face such physical changes as menarche, menstruation, pregnancy, childbearing, lactation, and menopause—in addition to the general health problems we share with men—the crisis in world health is a crisis of women. Toxic pesticides and herbicides, chemical warfare, leakage from nuclear wastes, acid rain, and other such deadly pollutants usually take their first toll as a rise in cancers of the female reproductive system, and in miscarriages, stillbirths, and congenital deformities. Furthermore, it is women’s work which must compensate for the destruction of ecological balance, the cash benefits of which accrue to various Big Brothers: deforestation (for lumber sales as export or for construction materials) results in a lowering of the water table, which in turn causes parched grasslands and erosion of topsoil; women, as the world’s principal water haulers and fuel gatherers, must walk farther to find water, to find fodder for animals, to find cooking-fire fuel.³ This land loss, combined with the careless application of advanced technology (whether appropriate to a region or not), has created a major worldwide trend: rural migration to the cities. That, in turn, has a doubly devastating effect on women. Either they remain behind trying to support their children on unworkable land while men go to urban centers in search of jobs, or they also migrate—only to find that they are considered less educable and less employable than men, their survival options being mainly domestic servitude (the job category of two out of five women in Latin America), factory work (mostly for multinational corporations at less than $2 US per day), or prostitution (which is growing rapidly in the urban centers of developing countries). Since women everywhere bear the double job burden of housework in addition to outside work, we are most gravely affected by the acknowledged world crisis in housing—and not only in less developed countries. In Britain, the Netherlands, and the United States, women were the founders of spontaneous squatters’ movements; in Hungary, the problem is so severe that women have been pressuring to have lack of housing declared as a ground for abortion; in Portugal, Mexico, and the USSR, women have been articulating the connections between the housing crisis, overcrowding, and a rise in the incidence of wife battery and child sexual abuse.

But the overlooked—and most important—factor in the power of women as a world political force is the magnitude of suffering combined with the magnitude of women: women constitute not an oppressed minority, but a majority—of almost all national populations, and of the entire human species. As that species approaches critical mass and the capacity to eradicate all life on the planet, more than ever before in recorded history, that majority of humanity now is mobilizing. The goal not only is to change drastically our own powerless status worldwide, but to redefine all existing societal structures and modes of existence.

The book you hold in your hands reflects the intense network of contacts and interlocking activities the world’s women have built over the past two decades. It reflects the fact that this foundation now is solid enough to support a genuine global movement of women which will have enormous political impact through the end of this century, and will create a transnational transformation in the next century. This movement will affect every aspect of life and society: reproduction and production, natural resources, political systems, nationalism, human sexuality and psychology, science and technology, youth and age and the family, economics, religion communication, health, and philosophy—and many other aspects we cannot yet imagine.

It is a multiplicitous movement, as befits the majority of humankind, and its styles, strategies, and theoretical approaches are as varied as its composition is and its effects will be. Just as Sisterhood Is Global is a cross-cultural, cross-age-group, cross-occupation/class, cross-racial, cross-sexual-preference, and cross-ideological assemblage of women’s voices, so is the movement itself. It has come into being through diverse means—informal one-to-one contacts, feminist meetings, demonstrations, solidarity actions, issue-focused networks, academic research and popular media, electoral processes and underground organizing, unofficial forums and official conferences.

A growing awareness of the vast resources of womanpower is becoming evident in a proliferation of plans of action, resolutions, legislative reforms, and other blueprints for change being put forward by national governments, international congresses and agencies, and multinational corporations. Women have served or are serving as heads of states and governments in more nations than ever before, including Belize, Bolivia, Dominica, Iceland, India, Israel, Norway, Portugal, Sri Lanka, the United Kingdom, and Yugoslavia. Yet these women still must function within systems devised and controlled by men and imbued with androcentric values. What resonates with even greater potential is what ordinary women all over the globe are beginning to whisper, say, and shout, to ourselves and one another, autonomously—and what we are proceeding to do, in our own countries and across their borders.

The quality of feminist political philosophy (in all its myriad forms) makes possible a totally new way of viewing international affairs, one less concerned with diplomatic postures and abstractions, but focused instead on concrete, unifying realities of priority importance to the survival and betterment of living beings. For example, the historical, cross-cultural opposition women express to war and our healthy skepticism of certain technological advances (by which most men seem overly impressed at first and disillusioned at last) are only two instances of shared attitudes among women which seem basic to a common world view. Nor is there anything mystical or biologically deterministic about this commonality. It is the result of a common condition which, despite variations in degree, is experienced by all human beings who are born female.

The Inside Agitator

No matter where she was born, no matter where she turns, a stereotype awaits her. She is a hot Latin or a cold WASP, a wholesome Dutch matron, a docile Asian or a Dragon Lady, a spoiled American, a seductive Scheherazade, a hip-swaying Pacific Island hula maiden, a Caribbean matriarch, a merry Irish colleen, a promiscuous Scandinavian, a noble-savage Native Indian, a hero-worker mother. Is it any wonder that so many articles in this book, from countries as distant as Afghanistan and Hungary, Chile and both Germanies, Pakistan and Cuba, again and again have as refrains the images of fragmentation, alienation, fractured profiles, silence, nonexistence, being women of smoke or, in the words of New Zealand’s Ngahuia Te Awekotuku and Marilyn Waring, foreigners in one’s own land?

But stereotypes become ineffectual unless constantly enforced. This necessitates the patriarchy’s vast and varied set of rules that define not only a woman’s physical appearance but her physical reality itself, from her forced enclosure in purdah to her forced exposure in beauty contests and pornography, from female genital mutilation to cosmetic plastic surgery, from facial scarification to carcinogenic hair dye, from the veil to the dictates of fashion. Both the Indian and the Nepalese Contributors to Sisterhood Is Global speak of fighting the concept of a woman’s uncleanness, her untouchability—and so do the Contributors from Ghana, Iran, Israel, Italy, New Zealand, and Saudi Arabia.

Still, a forced physical reality, however hideous, is not sufficient. For the power holders to be secure, it is necessary to constrain women’s minds as well as our bodies. Organized religion, custom, tradition, and all the abstract patriarchal isms (nationalism, capitalism, communism, socialism, patriotism, etc.) are called into play, doubtless in the hope that women will not notice just who has dogmatized the religions, corrupted the customs, defined the traditions, and created, perpetuated, and profited by the various other. isms. The most pernicious of all patriarchal tactics to keep women a divided and subhuman world caste is the lie that feminism is an ‘ontside’ or alien phenomenon, not needed or desired by ‘our’ [local] women.⁴

This argument is wondrously chameleonic. In many Third World countries, feminists are warned that the imported thought of feminism is a neocolonialist plot. In Western industrialized countries, on the other hand, feminists frequently are regarded as being radical agents of communism. In the USSR and some other Eastern European nations, feminists are attacked as bourgeois agents of imperialism. (Truly, it is quite amazing how the male Right and the male Left can forge such a literal Big Brotherhood in response to the threat posed by women merely insisting on being recognized as part of humanity.)

The Contributors from the Caribbean and the Pacific Islands, among others, speak to this phenomenon. Marie-Angélique Savané (Senegal) calls the feminism is alien accusation a consciously maintained confusion to divide women. Rita Liljeström (Sweden) points out that this strategy binds women to their respective men and male systems, and functions as a protection from crosswise contacts with women from other systems, a dangerous comparing of notes and a potentially dangerous unity. Manjula Giri (Nepal) flatly states that even if feminism in this particular period of history might have first exploded in the industrialized nations, the universal significance of those ideas has been recognized immediately and seized upon by women all over the world. Mahnaz Afkhami (Iran) writes: An idea’s origins ought not to be the main consideration in one’s judgment of its validity.… One need not reinvent the wheel to satisfy one’s chauvinism. Ironically, Tinne Vammen (Denmark) at first seems to have fallen prey to the myth of feminism as a luxury, implying that only in industrialized nations can women dare care about feminism; as if in direct answer to Vammen’s anxiety, Fatima Mernissi (Morocco) presents an impassioned expose of the motivations behind such arguments, whether made by male supremacists in all countries or by women suffering (at times conveniently paralyzing) pangs of white, Western, Northern, or industrialized-nation guilt—which can take the form of condescension.

The strongest argument to the feminists as outside agitators attack is the simple truth: an indigenous feminism has been present in every culture in the world and in every period of history since the suppression of women began. Indeed, that has emerged as the predominant theme of Sisterhood Is Global It will be difficult, I think, for anyone to finish this book and ever again believe that feminism is a geographically narrow, imported, or even for that matter recent, phenomenon, anywhere.

We know the history is written by the conquerors, with the consequent process of distortion or outright erasure of facts. As herstory, or women’s history, begins to be recovered by feminist historians and scholars, a wholly different past reappears—a past in which women never were content with their lot. Feminists in each nation have begun to learn about their own feminist lineage, In the various Herstory sections of the Statistical Prefaces (see Prefatory Note and Methodology), we have assemble such buried or ignored facts, so that we all can recognize ourselves and our sisters by seeing our foremothers—and their contexts—more clearly.

How many or us know that Gandhi’s nonviolent resistance tactics were acknowledged by him to have been copied from the nineteenth-century Indian women’s movement? Or that it was a woman’s action which inspired the contemporary Solidarity free-trade-union movement in Poland? Or that the contemporary Women’s Party in Iceland, the Feminist Party in Canada, and the Feminist Party in Spain are making crucial statements about women placing no more trust in male political parties? For that matter, how many of us know of the existence, as early as 1918, of the Argentinian National Feminist Party, or, in 1946, of the Chilean Women’s Party? How many of us know the names, much less the accomplishments, of such hidden heroines as Gualberta Beccari who, in 1866, at age eighteen, founded the Italian feminist journal Donna; or Maria Jesús Alvarada Rivera, who forged a militant Peruvian feminist movement in 1900, and endured imprisonment and exile; or Me Katilili, the seventy-year-old woman who organized the Giriama uprising against the British in Kenya in 1911? Why are the triumphs of such women warriors as Yaa Asantewaa of the Ashanti people of Ghana, or of the Thai leader Thao Thepsatri, not familiar to us, and often not even to women in their own countries? What pride might women everywhere feel in learning about the waves of female rebellion in China’s long history—how it was a woman, the young astronomer Wang Zhenyi (1768–97), who discovered the law of lunar eclipses; how Hong Xuanjiao led forty armies of 2500 women each, fighting for women’s rights during the 1851 Taiping Rebellion; how Jiu Jin, the nineteenth-century feminist, poet, teacher, and revolutionary, dressed in men’s clothing for freedom of movement, founded a girls’ school, and was arrested and executed in 1908 because she refused to compromise her beliefs? What inspiration might all women draw from claiming as a foremother Raden Ajeng Kartini of Indonesia, who was forced to leave school by religious constraints at age twelve, educated herself, spoke out against polygyny, forced marriage, and colonial oppression, founded the modern Indonesian women’s rights movement, started a girls’ school which had an enrollment of 120 students by 1904—all before she died in childbirth at age twenty-five?

These women comprise our shared heritage, a heritage we can each affirm with emphatic pride across all male-devised borders. They are joined by the thousands of other women whose struggles illumine these pages: the first woman doctor in a country, the first woman lawyer, the first woman notary, the first woman journalist, the first woman to run for public office. Stop for a moment and imagine the hours of work, the nights of despair, the years of endured ridicule and rejection, the personal cost, the exhaustion, the stubborn vision, of just one such life.

Perhaps it becomes easier to understand why the imposition of stereotypes and the enforced silence are necessary to Big Brother. Perhaps it also becomes easier to strip off the masks, to break the silence, to examine the pervasiveness of those institutions which have buried our past and which daily bury our present.

Biological Materialism

To many feminist theorists, the patriarchal control of women’s bodies as the means of reproduction is the crux of the dilemma, along with the embittering irony that this invaluable contribution of childbearing still is not regarded as such, because it is bilogically natural—ergo unpaid, ergo not valued. Yet women do, as Savané of Senegal writes, reproduce and maintain the work force itself, and Lidia Falcón of Spain delineates how her countrywomen virtually and consciously rebuilt the decimated Spanish population after World War II.

But the desire of mankind [sic] to define and control women’s reproductive freedom is an old one. Modern history is replete with examples of governments giving women the right to contraceptive use and abortion access when male authority felt the nation had an overpopulation problem, then abolishing that right when male authority felt the population was dropping too low or for other political reasons in the national interest. The point, of course, is that this is the right of an individual woman herself, not a gift to be bestowed or taken back. But until women are a major force in the political and scientific circles of the world, genuinely safe, humane, and free reproductive options will not become a priority. The United Nations Fund for Population Activities reports, Currently, only about twenty developing countries have the capability to carry on biomedical research in family planning, and about ten more are developing these resources. A five-to-ten-year buildup is necessary for a single institution to achieve self-reliance, depending on the initial level of expertise and facilities and the national commitment and level of investment.⁵

In the meantime, women everywhere suffer from the absence of contraceptive information and devices and the suppression of traditional women’s knowledge of them, or from the presence of unsafe means of preventing conception. Sterilization programs, sometimes carried out at the command of authoritarian governments or under neocolonial pressure, have for the most part focused on women, despite the fact that vasectomy for men is a simpler, quicker, and infinitely less dangerous operation than is tubal ligation or hysterectomy for women. Another highly questionable solution was proposed on July 16, 1982, when World Health, the magazine of the UN World Health Organization, carried a report on a recent WHO meeting which had concluded that Depo-Provera (DMPA) the controversial injectable contraceptive, was an acceptable method of fertility regulation. Despite this drug’s having been the target of feminist protests in numerous countries (based on research showing it to be dangerous to the hormonal system and possibly carcinogenic), representatives from drug-regulatory agencies of India, Mexico, Sweden, Thailand, the United Kingdom, and the United States—as well as representatives of the pharmaceutical industries from those countries—found that it shows no additional and possibly fewer adverse effects than those found with other hormonal methods of contraception. The meeting added, however, as DMPA has been used for a relatively short period of time, little can be said about its potential long-term effects.⁶

Meanwhile, and despite much head-shaking in international development circles over the population issue, a semi-conscious conspiracy of Church, State, and ignorance persists in viewing population problems as separate from women’s problems. Population programs which at first referred to women as targets now have come at least as far as the terminology acceptors—which still connotes passivity.⁷ And women everywhere continue to suffer—being forced to bear unwanted children, being kept from having wanted children, and having to bear children in desperate circumstances:

Thirty to fifty percent of all maternal deaths in Latin America are due to improperly performed illegal abortions or to complications following abortion attempts.

Fifty percent of all women in India gain no weight during the third trimester of pregnancy, owing to malnourishment. Every ten minutes in 1980, an Indian woman died of a septic abortion.

More than half of all live births in Venezuela are out of wedlock. Illegal abortion is the leading cause of female deaths in Caracas.

The average Soviet woman has between twelve and fourteen abortions during her lifetime, because contraceptives, although legal, are extremely difficult to obtain.

In Peru, 10 to 15 percent of all women in prison were convicted for having had illegal abortions; 60 percent of the women in one Lima prison were there for having had or performed illegal abortions.

Eighty percent of pregnant and nursing rural women in Java have anemia.

Everywhere, throughout history, an individual woman’s right to reproductive freedom has been used as a political pawn. In Nazi Germany, one of Hitler’s first acts on coming to power was the outlawing of contraceptive advertising and the closing of birth-control clinics; abortion became tantamount to an act of sabotage against the State. Comparably, an ultra-Right and Christian fundamentalist minority in the United States today is attempting to legislate severe restrictions on contraceptive access and to re-criminalize abortion. Reproductive freedom always is a first target of conservative, racist, and ethnocentric forces: in the USSR, it is more difficult for a white Russian woman to obtain contraceptives or an abortion than for a woman in one of the ethnic republics, because the government is concerned about the darker-skinned and Asiatic population’s outnumbering whites; comparably, in the US, birth-control policy has at times resulted in Afro-American, Native American, and Hispanic-American women being sterilized without their informed consent. In the international arena, the same racial and ethnic bigotries are writ large in population strategies foisted by Northern countries on Southern ones, by the developed world on the developing. This of course provokes racial, nationalistic, and cultural resistance against foreign interference—but the dialogue, however antagonistic, is carried on between male governments, and the women themselves are rarely consulted, if ever.

The presence of organized patriarchal religion in all this cannot be overemphasized. It shows itself in the Arab world wherever Islamic fundamentalism surfaces, in traditionalist Hindu practice, in the orthodox Hebrew lobby in Israel, and across the Latin world through the influence of the Roman Catholic Church. The ethical contradictions created are bizarre. For example, in Ecuador and Mexico, abortion is virtually illegal, but infanticide committed for reasons of family honor within the first eight days of life, or if the child is unregistered, gains a more lenient sentence or no punishment at all. Latin America today hosts a number of self-styled revolutionary regimes which have a strong pronatalist attitude; the Roman Catholic Church has been supportive of such social revolutions and, as more than one of the Latin American Contributors notes, the Left therefore doesn’t wish to alienate such a powerful ally over the question of reproduction. Thus, in Nicaragua, abortion still is illegal unless there is proven danger to the woman’s life—and that proof must be ruled upon by a minimum of three doctors, with the consent of the woman’s spouse or guardian. In the Irelands, too, this issue is central to the women’s movement, as Nell McCafferty, writing here about both the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland, makes clear with devastating wit.

But the silence has been broken. Women are protesting, organizing, educating, lobbying. The Hungarian Contributor writes about reproductive freedom as a major issue in her country. Corrine Oudijk (the Netherlands) speaks of the 1981 Dutch women’s strike for abortion rights on demand, a national strike in which 20,000 women participated. The victory gained by Italian women on this subject—at the papal heart of Roman Catholicism—is recounted by Paola Zaccaria. And in 1982, Kuwait became the first Arabian Gulf nation to legalize termination of pregnancy by choice (despite the fact that, ironically, women in Kuwait still lack the vote, although they have demonstrated by the thousands for suffrage).

The centrality of a woman’s right to choose whether or not or how and when to bear a child is incontrovertible—and is inextricable from every other issue facing women. Because we are viewed as reproducers we are exploited in the labor force as secondary producers (even where we are primary ones). Because paternity (e.g., ownership of issue) becomes such an obsession, our virginity assumes vital importance, clitoridectomy and infibulation persist as literal chastity belts of human flesh, honor murders" of women are condoned. Because older women are past child-bearing age, we are discarded as useless (whatever the contrary rhetoric) in most societies: Japan, Denmark, and the United States are only three of the countries where older women’s feminist activism is emerging strongly.

The tragedy within the tragedy is that because we are regarded primarily as reproductive beings rather than full human beings, we are viewed in a (male-defined) sexual context, with the consequent epidemic of rape, sexual harassment, forced prostitution, and sexual traffick in women, with transacted marriage, institutionalized family structures, and the denial of individual women’s own sexual expression.

The heavy fabric suffocating women is woven so tightly from so many strands that it is impossible to examine one without encountering those intertwined with it. We can, however, summarize certain aspects of each strand, keeping in mind the interconnections—which emerge dramatically and cumulatively throughout this book.

The Institution of Marriage

The theory that marriage⁸ has functioned as an instrument of patriarchal possession of women has been promulgated by feminists for centuries. Women in industrialized nations have confronted this reality in many ways: laws which stipulate that the husband and wife are one, and that one is the husband, and which deny married women our own names, property rights, credit ratings, autonomous business dealings, and child custody, and the offstage suffering of battery and other family violence, marital rape, sexual frustration and betrayal, personality subsumation, etc. Yet just how profoundly antagonistic this institution is to women’s selfhood becomes clear only in an international, historical context.

Marriage is used to reinforce class, racial, religious, and ethnic differences, casting women literally as an exchange of property to strengthen group bonds (despite scientific evidence that the evolutionary gene pool of the species is enriched by exogamy). In almost all cultures, marriage (with its attendant duties of nonsalaried housewifery and child-raising) is regarded as the goal of a woman’s entire life, whether such a regard is validated by local legal systems or (infrequently) challenged by them. This results in the definition of a woman as a (solely) reproductive being, which in turn restricts both her sexual and her reproductive freedom. It results in woman being excluded from employment, or exploited by employers as auxiliary income earners and free family laborers, and channeled into part-time, seasonal, and marginal jobs, always low in payment and prestige. It limits a woman’s scope-of-physical and intellectual movement to the private sphere, minimizing her as a political force and eradicating her as an historical presence. It constrains her educational opportunities, since the focus of the training is on serving a husband-to-be and his family on household skills, and on motherhood. It affects her entire life span, from childhood to old age:

Child marriage, although opposed by law in many countries, still persists: in Nepal, as of 1971, 13.36 percent of all females age 10–14 (and 2.33 percent of all females age 6–9) already were married.

The suicide rate of elderly women in Japan is higher than in any other country, because, according to the Japanese Contributor Keiko Higuchi, of the way in which society isolates widows and regards them as useless.

In the rural Punjab, the custom of a woman being given in marriage to the husband of her deceased elder sister still is observed.

In parts of China, Mexico, and Italy, kidnapping of brides (or bridenapping) remains a tradition.

Polygyny, child marriage, forced marriage, and the right of a husband to chastise a wife physically are affirmed by fundamentalist interpretations of Islamic, Hindu, and various customary laws.

The concept of Patria Potestad, omnipresent in the laws of Latin American countries (with the strong support of the Roman Catholic Church), defines a husband as the supreme authority over his wife and family—in terms of choice of domicile, financial and property matters, decisions about the children’s education, the wife’s right to travel or go to school or seek a job outside the home, and child custody.

In the Eastern European socialist countries, legislation ensures a married woman’s right to work, yet other legislation (restricting contraceptive or abortion access, rewarding large families, emphasizing and giving special benefits to homemakers and mothers) ironically manages to refocus women on the home and to perpetuate their position as second-class citizens in the labor force.

Is it then any wonder that women’s-rights activists have been working for laws against wife battery and marital rape—both in the United States⁹ and in all the republics of the Soviet Union?¹⁰ Is it any surprise that indigenous feminist agitation against polygyny has been going on for decades in Indonesia, Sri Lanka, and Egypt? Is it so shocking that there were Anti-Marriage Sisterhoods in nineteenth-century China, whose members pledged to commit suicide rather than marry? Is it not natural that Argentinian, Brazilian, and other Latin American feminists have attacked Patria Potestad laws, that a Southern Italian woman who had been bridenapped defied tradition and went to court to accuse the man of a criminal act? Is it mere coincidence that Ama Ata Aidoo of Ghana rejects the institution of marriage with incisive humor, that ’Molara Ogundipe-Leslie, the Nigerian Contributor, speaks about the institution’s deleterious effects, that Irmtraud Morgner of East Germany depicts those effects in her surrealistic parable, that Hilkka Pietilä notes the decades-long low marriage rate in her country and wonders to what extent that accounts for Finland’s progressive legislation on women?

It is not then difficult to understand why the basic human right to be free of an oppressive situation is so opposed by male Church and male State, or why for most women all over the world a taken-for-granted right in some countries still is regarded as radical or unattainable miraculous: the right to divorce.

Double Standards of Divorce

The Sisterhood Is Global Contributors, and the statistics themselves, show us how long and onerous the battle for equal divorce rights has been—and still is. A woman’s right to divorce was the single most controversial issue in the Chinese Revolution. It still is a basic right to be won in many countries where strictly interpreted Islamic jurisprudence or Roman Catholic dogma underlies or influences secular law, and in Israel, where conservative Rabbinical Courts control the issues of marriage, family, and divorce. A man’s right to divorce has been a given in most societies—usually along with a woman’s lack of rights to contest his decision. Talaq, or divorce by verbal renunciation, is solely a male right in parts of the Arab world and among Islamic communities in some other countries—a right sometimes opposed but largely affirmed in the secular laws of the relevant nations, and an issue which is the focus of much Islamic feminist activism. In countries where equal divorce laws do exist, the recriminations against the woman are still severe: economic difficulties, nonpayment of child support, family disapproval, social stigma, and sometimes automatic loss of child custody.

Nor is it only a cross-cultural sin against heaven and earth for a woman to leave a painful marriage situation. It is a sin, revealingly enough, against property.

Dowry—The Price of a Life (and Death)

Few institutions expose the woman is property concept so tragically as dowry. Whether in the form of payment in money or goods from the groom’s family to the bride’s (in effect, a purchase of the woman) or from the bride’s family to that of the groom (to enhance her marriageability and ostensibly to provide her with property of her own), the bridewealth is almost never controlled by the woman herself. Masquerading as a gesture of respect or even love for the woman, this practice in fact binds her all the more to a situation she may not have chosen and may wish to leave. (Return of the dowry is one of the most frequent reasons families on either side oppose divorce.) The practice is as old as the Incans and was abolished by law in Greece as late as 1983. It still exists in most parts of the world, and is required by custom and even by statute in some countries. Furthermore, even where legislation prohibiting it has been laboriously passed, loopholes are found to get around the law, or the practice manifests itself in ingenious new ways.

Both the Kenyan and the Lebanese Contributors, Rose Adhiambo Arungu-Olende and Rose Ghurayyib, respectively, address themselves to the problem of how dowry has become more sophisticated in their countries: a woman’s education, employment capability, and earning capacity now are examined by the prospective groom and put forward by the family of a prospective bride as her modern bridewealth. Despite repeated anti-dowry legislation in India (most recently passed in 1961) the transaction remains widespread, is growing in commercial intensity, and has reached proportions of such violence as to necessitate denunciations from the Prime Minister and new and stronger (proposed) legislation. The 1975 Report from the Indian Commission on the Status of Women declared dowry to be one of the gravest problems affecting women in the entire country. Yet in the year 1980–81, there were still 394 cases of brides burned to death reported by the police in Delhi alone; Indian women’s groups claim that nationwide the police register only one out of 100 cases of dowry murder and attempted dowry murder that come to their attention, and that for each of these cases six go unreported. The practice frequently becomes a form of extortion, with the husband and his family harassing, beating, or torturing a bride to extract more money from her family. In extreme cases, she is murdered (so that the husband may marry again and receive more dowry); most dowry murders are made to look accidental (e.g., dousing the woman with kerosene, setting her afire, and claiming it was a cooking accident) or are made to appear acts of suicide. Massive anti-dowry demonstrations have been a major focus of Indian feminist activism in recent years; Manushi, the Indian feminist journal which publishes both in Hindi and in English, has courageously focused its coverage on dowry-murder cases and has initiated a crusade of pledges not to give or accept dowry.¹¹

Only by such indigenous women’s activism will practices like these—whether so dramatically posed as in India or subtly preserved through trousseau commercialism and symbolic giving the bride away in the West—be eradicated, and with that eradication come the end of transacted love, and of women’s marital servitude.

The Myth of the Family

The Peruvian Contributor, Ana Maria Portugal, speaks of the sacralization of the family in her country. The Nepalese Contributor, Manjula Giri, writes that the family is the backbone of the authoritarian State. Miriam Habib of Pakistan notes how vast regions of her country remain in the hands of individual families who become neo-feudal powers unto themselves. La Silenciada of Cuba uncovers the Holy Family image promulgated by a prerevolutionary Roman Catholic ethos still venerated in the Family Code of postrevolutionary Cuba. Xiao Lu of China and Anna Titkow of Poland both point out how strong—and frequently, how reactionary—a force the family still is in their countries. The Japanese and Spanish Contributors expose how their own and other governments depend on the institution of the family (for which read women) for care of the sick, the young, and the elderly, thus evading the State’s responsibility to provide comprehensive health insurance, childcare centers, old-age pensions, and public assistance. Magaly Pineda of the Dominican Republic deplores how firm the motherhood pedestal still is in the Spanish-speaking Caribbean, and Peggy Antrobus and Lorna Gordon of the English-speaking Caribbean remind us of the underside of the family: that the poorest families are those which are woman-headed, in industrialized and developing countries.

Whether from Europe, the Middle East, Asia, Africa, or the Americas, feminist voices are synchronistically criticizing the family—at least in its institutionalized and patriarchal forms. In fact, one of the points women are making is that a total redefinition of family is long overdue. It has not, after all, ever been a singular or static construct; the Minankabou in Sumatra, the Ashanti in Ghana, and many peoples of the Pacific Islands are among those matrilineal and/or matrifocal societies which appear to have greater respect for women (and children and men). The prehistories of most cultures, ranging from Greece to Britain to certain Native Peoples of the Americas, show a similar pattern. Contemporary Indonesia and Sri Lanka are among the nations which include communities following matrilineal, patrilineal, and bilateral family structures. And in addition to the old forms, there are the new ones: single-parent families, families of choice (cohabitational lovers, communes, cross-generational living collectives), people drawn together in a bond of shared work or politics or deep friendship.

If the real meaning of family is in fact the human need to establish long-term relationships of trust and closeness, then we need none of us worry about the family dying out. If, on the other hand, family is restricted to definitions of the Big Brothers—family only as a heterosexual unit of production and reproduction, family as a cell of the State—then govermental reverence for the institution becomes more grimly understandable. The irony is that, country after country, the State is hypocritical in its affirmation of the family—at least insofar the daily needs of women and children are concerned.¹²

The inheritance laws of most countries by themselves suffice to expose this hypocrisy. If blood relationships are so sacred, then why are out-of-wedlock children discriminated against in most legal codes? If all members of a family are partners in that unit, then why are wives barred from inheriting property in some countries and daughters granted only half or a third of the share of sons in so many nations? Indeed, if parenting is so sacred and rewarding, why do more men not participate in this act?

The hypocrisy can be found wherever reactionary elements are trying to define family narrowly and androcentrically. Statements by Ayatollah Khomeini of Iran, Pope John Paul II, the Rabbinical Courts of Israel, and the ultra-Rightist spokesman Reverend Jerry Falwell in the United States are remarkably interchangeable on this subject. The harmony of such a quartet itself might make us understand why women are fighting on so many fronts to reform or transform the institution of the family.

The War Against Female Sexuality

The brutal or subtle suppression of female sexuality is sometimes said to be a concern only of bourgeois or spoiled women in industrialized nations, since such women allegedly need not have economic issues as a priority. (It is never assumed that men in developing countries are unconcerned with sexuality just because they are, along with their sisters, faced with life-and-death economic issues, nor is it ever assumed that men in industrialized nations who are so concerned with their sexuality are merely bourgeois or spoiled.) Yet Contributors from Australia, Brazil, Chile, China, Colombia, Cuba, Egypt, Ghana, Haiti, India, Morocco, Nepal, Palestine, and Thailand address the subject of sexuality, as do Contributors from Britain, Canada, Denmark, France, both Germanies, Hungary, Ireland, Israel, Italy, Japan, New Zealand, Sweden, the USSR, the US, and Yugoslavia. The Dutch Contributor puts it boldly as the right to define our own sexuality, and Maria de Lourdes Pintasilgo of Portugal refers to sexuality as an articulation of the self—which can include a defiance of elaborate (for women only) viginity strictures, a woman’s (as well as a man’s) right to change sexual partners, the right of an older woman to her own proud sexuality, the right to erotic pleasure without compulsory pregnancy, the right to choose celibacy, and the right to a free choice of one’s sexual partner, whether of the opposite or the same gender.

In fact, the issue of same-sex love, assumed to be an unspeakable subject in all but a few feminist movements in certain Western countries, emerges casually throughout this book. The human spectrum of sexuality is hardly restricted by national boundaries. It may surprise some readers to learn that Indonesia has the first homosexual-rights magazine published in any country with a large Islamic population; that the right to same-sex love is an issue in Yugoslavia, Mexico, Brazil, Cuba (tragically notorious for its postrevolutionary persecution of bisexual and homosexual persons), Spain, India, Iran (where floggings and executions of same-sex lovers are public events), Hungary (where in-name-only marriages between female and male homosexual persons are not uncommon, in order to get or keep jobs), and in the Irelands. It may unsettle some readers to find that there is a tradition of woman-to-woman marriage among various peoples in Nigeria, the northern Transvaal, parts of East Africa, and the Sudan.¹³ In some cases it is purported that these woman-to-woman marriages are for convenience only, or to acquire foster children, or for inheritance reasons, amalgamation of lands, etc., yet in others the alliance seems to be for reasons of love.

Such customs were eradicated or at least distorted or suppressed by a colonial presence. It appears to be a pattern that invading cultures manage to respect indigenous traditions when they are patriarchal (for example, polygyny and purdah) but have no compunction about attacking such traditions if they happen to be in the interests of women (for example, matrilineal descent, female ownership of lands, etc.).

Whatever the individual choice of sexuality, however, the subject itself is of deep concern to women eyerywhere. There is a poverty of sexual freedom women suffer just as hideously as a poverty of economics or of education. Possibly this is because wherever genuine pleasure, affection, and the energy of erotic delight begin to flower, the State and its linear structures are in danger of exposure as being ridiculous at best and tyrannical at worst.¹⁴

The True Workers of the World

It is appalling that such questions as Should women work? and even Do women work? still are asked seriously in the twentieth century. In fact, it can be said that women do everything (see statistics on page 2 of this Introduction) but control nothing, as Hilkka Pietilä of Finland describes it. Women are the world’s proletariat—and have no voice even in defining what work means (see the Prefatory Note and Methodology for an explanation of such terms in this book).

Women suffer from Gross National Product Invisibility despite our constituting 60 to 80 percent of national economies. The Kenyan Contributor speaks of this, as do Hema Goonatilake of Sri Lanka, Suzanne Körösi of Hungary, Savané of Senegal, and all of the Contributors from the Caribbean, among others. As Kathleen Newland wrote, Of 70 developing countries surveyed by the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development in 1973, only six counted the value of carrying water to its point of use in the GNP’s. And only two assigned any economic value to housewives’ services.¹⁵ Or, as the Sri Lankan Contributor notes, a women as 26 percent of the labor force statistic in her country was overturned by a 1973 labor-force survey which for the first time included housewives as a component, precipitously raising the figure to 44.9 percent.

Women’s GNP invisibility becomes all the more absurd in light of the fact that women comprise almost the totality of the world’s food producers¹⁶ and are responsible for most of the world’s hand-portage of water and fuel. Amna Badri of the Sudan and Pintasilgo of Portugal both note how government definitions of the economically active population usually exclude women who do this valuable work, and Devaki Jain of India discusses the same invisibility factor in terms of unemployment and underemployment as terminology used instead of those seeking employment (see the Prefatory Note and Methodology for a further exploration of these terms). India’s Chipko Movement, focused on the saving of forest land from developers, is virtually a women’s movement, since it is women who gather twigs and branches for firewood and cooking fuel. As unpaid family workers, women appear fitfully on national labor charts, although in many parts of Asia and Africa women are the agricultural workers on small farms; as one New Zealand farm wife phrased it, I would assure the Government that if women entirely pulled out of farming, agriculture would suffer to an almost collapsed state in a very short time.¹⁷

Women comprise a large portion of tourist-industry workers, and in some countries women are that industry, where packaged sex-tourism is promoted (see below).

In most nations, handicrafts are largely or solely the products of female labor—mostly created as piece-work done at home for (extremely low) wage pay, with no benefits or pensions (see Chile, Haiti, and Pakistan).

Free-zone activities and free-zone industry, using primarily unskilled female labor, particularly exploit women by suddenly expanding the female labor market and just as suddenly abandoning it, a phenomenon described by Sonia Cuales, from the Dutch-speaking Caribbean, and by Goonatilake from Sri Lanka; the latter also makes a basic feminist connection, noticing how the colonizer adapts the way in which he has treated his own countrywomen as a model for the way he treats the women of the country he is colonizing: Women and children were employed as a source of cheap industrial labor in nineteenth-century Britain, and this method of exploitation was introduced into the Sri Lankan tea estates.

Carmen Lugo of Mexico is one of the many Third World Contributors who describe how Big Brother’s multinational corporations rely on the sweatshop labor of women, certainly exploiting the indigenous male population as well, but at least training the men in some technological methods and in many cases promoting men (but never women) to middle-management or even higher positions.

The manipulation of women workers as a temporary labor force is notorious. In agrarian economies, women form the bulk of migrant-labor-populations and seasonal workers; in industrialized countries, the bulk of part-time workers. Even where women form a large percentage of the employed labor force, as in such highly-developed nation as as Japan or the Netherlands, we are still auxiliary, marginal, or part-time workers. This in turn means that women all over the world are deprived of full work benefits and are de facto discriminated against in pension plans, which almost always are based on the amount of cumulative lifetime salary earned and hours worked. It also means that women’s chances of promotion are reduced or eradicated, effectively keeping us out of decision-making position which might change policy.

This vicious circle is worn as a halo around Big Brother’s head: his excuse for women’s part-time worker ghettoization is his solicitous concern over women’s family role and responsibilities—yet those responsibilities aren’t counted as work. It is hardly coincidental that the two-job burden is deplored by Contributors from societies so different as China, Cuba, Egypt, Finland, Pakistan, Rumania, the Soviet Union, and the United States, to mention only a few. Sometimes the convenient male solicitude is encoded into the law itself, or into official government policies (in consolidating the Chinese Revolution, Mao Zedong urged women to pursue the Two Zeals—Family and Work). Although clear advantage is taken of women’s labor in the family, that labor is not acknowledged as such. Falcón of Spain pinpoints this contradiction when she writes, Nowadays it is no longer possible to separate the world economy from domestic work, industrial production from human reproduction, income from work (including the work of a housewife). Yet Big Brother still tries.

Patriarchal solutions to the double-job burden have been deleterious, and at times insultingly trivial, to women. For example, special stipends or time off to reward employed women who are mothers may appear supportive, but actually can serve to keep women in the home, unless the same benefit is extended to male parents. The availability of part-time positions to employed mothers can compartmentalize them as such, unless, again, these jobs are available to men, along with education of public consciousness to ensure equal male participation in parenting and in housework. Protective labor legislation can militate against women being hired or promoted in many industries, unless that protection is extended to men in an equal way. All these supposed benefits to women can be (and have been) turned against us, and this will continue until the entire context is re-evaluated and women have real decision-making power about new modes of organization and implementation. (For instance, the new employment plan and five-hour workday promulgated by the Dutch women’s movement [see p. 471] is one creative solution toward equalizing and humanizing the work situation in industrialized countries.) As for trivializing solutions to the double-job burden, surely one of the most hilarious is Cuban Premier Fidel Castro’s proposal that hairdressers remain open during the evening to ease the burden of the woman who is employed during the day but needs to be attractive in her housewifely role at night.

The truth is that the interest of a patriarchal State isn’t served in finding genuine solutions to the double-job burden. A marginal female labor force is a highly convenient asset: cheap, always available, easily and callously disposed of. Nawal El Saadawi, the Egyptian Contributor, writes perceptively about the conspiratorial fashion in which, as the economy declines and jobs become scarcer, cries of women should be back in the home increase from religious fundamentalists, but with tacit State support. Titkow of Poland depicts a parallel situation. Comparably, the Rosie the Riveter syndrome was noted in the United States during the 1940’s: when women were needed by industry because men were away at war, government propaganda lauded the patriotic woman who worked pluckily in the factory; when the men returned, the propaganda changed, implying that the employed woman was unwomanly, indifferent to her family’s needs, cold, and un-American.

But where are the trade unions in all this? And what about the New International Economic Order? What about development and high technology?

Sadly, most trade unions have proven ineffectual and even indifferent to the dilemmas of women workers, despite the vital part women have played in organizing unions in those countries where they exist (see especially the Caribbean, India, and Poland—both Contributor articles and Statistical Prefaces). Male trade-union leadership has been accused of selling out women constituents, whether from a calculated sense of brotherhood with male workers, male management, and male government, or from a more benign ignorance about the status and real problems of women workers.

The majority of employed women work in jobs not even covered by trade unions—jobs on which, nonetheless, entire economies depend: in agriculture, secretarial/clerical work, homemaking, or domestic service. This last category is hardly ever covered by insurance benefits (Ecuador, Mexico, Nicaragua, and Portugal are among the rare exceptions), and even when legislation does exist to grant domestic servants coverage, there is precious little implementation of the law to ensure it.

In the developed nations, this good-legislation-poor-implementation problem is epidemic. Even in Sweden, which can be justifiably proud of progressive legislation on women’s rights, job discrimination persists (and with it the accompanying discrimination of lower pensions, etc.). Rita Liljeström demonstrates how men have entered women’s (paid) jobs in greater numbers than the reverse—the result being that women are deprived of work in a previously female-intensive labor category but still are unable to break the gender barrier in more rewarded employment areas. Thus, even in those countries which have passed equal-pay-for-equal-work legislation, the law may have little meaning since job categorization remains in overt or covert force. For precisely this reason, the women’s movements in Australia, Canada, and the United States, among others, have begun to push for the concept of "equal pay for comparable work or equal pay for work of equal value"—which expands the issue into hitherto uncovered areas.

If industrialized nations have such a poor record in equalizing wealth and opportunity within their own borders (whatever their political ideology), it doesn’t augur well for the New International Economic Order—or, rather, it implies that the alleged redistribution and equalizing of wealth between countries will in fact take place between men of different countries, out of the reach of the respective women involved, in a brothers’-business-as-usual fashion. (This is neatly described by Rayna Green of the US as European men making treaties with those unauthorized to make them, e.g., what happened to the Native Americans.)

But what of economic development? What good—or harm—does it do when these basic connections aren’t made in the minds of those who define it? Improving educational opportunities can worsen inequality if only the boys are educated. Technological advances can mean a setback if, for example, tractors shorten the working hours of men who do the plowing but lengthen the working hours of women who do the weeding. Modernization can mean merely more advanced feudalism for women if it disenfranchises matrilineal or matrifocal peoples, or introduces agrobusiness (and trains only men in new fanning techniques) in a country where women traditionally have been the landowners, farmers, and marketers. Where is the progress if, as in Indonesia, rice-hulling machines cut women’s income by more than $55 million and reduced half-time employment by more than 8.3 months for 1 million women, while income for men in the new mills increased by $5 million? In that same country, imports and mechanization have forced 90 percent of women weavers out of work; batik-making also has been mechanized—with men who operate the machinery earning 400–500 percent more than women in the labor-intensive jobs (see the Indonesian Statistical Preface).

Integrating women into development—the new cure-all—still utterly misses the point, since women then are caught up in a pre-devised plan which still does not address our specific needs. Farida Allaghi of Libya shows just how the trickle-down effect of development doesn’t—at least not to women. Vanessa Griffen of the Pacific Islands sees most development strategy as co-opting and deflecting the radical energy of indigenous feminism. La Silenciada of Cuba names integration a form of patriarchal neocolonialism. Giri of Nepal sees current development schemes as a boomerang; in her country, imports and mechanization resulted in a decline in the rate of employed women in the total labor force from 59.4 percent to 35.1 percent between 1952–54 and 1971. Jain of India flatly calls development women’s worst enemy.

Most ideas of development and modernization also are among the major culprits in what could be termed the citification of the planet—the massive rural-to-urban migration taking place all over the world—which emerges as a major theme of Sisterhood Is Global. Contributors from the Caribbean, Ecuador, Kenya, Pakistan, Peru, Senegal, and Thailand are among those who refer to this phenomenon as affecting the lives of women—women who migrate or women who remain behind. Olivia Muchena of Zimbabwe writes about the social-emotional schizophrenia forced on a woman who must function as a capable head of household while her man is far away working in the city for long periods, and who then is expected to become a traditionally subordinate wife during his rare visits. There is also cross-national migration: developed countries importing women from less developed countries as cheap labor, with a resultant clash of cultures (see, for instance, the Statistical Prefaces on Kuwait and the Germanies).

At the 1980 UNITAR Seminar in Oslo on Creative Women in Changing Societies, women urged the creation of an International Commission for Alternative Development with Women, since many development models are no longer valid, for, by omitting the female component, they not only continue to minimize the female input into production and consumption (both social and economic), but also perpetuate the exploitation, low status, and nonrecognition of women. The need for such a basic attitudinal change is underscored by Aisha Almana of Saudi Arabia, who explores how, even in such a wealthy and rapidly developing country as hers, women are left isolated unless the connections are made and the consciousness itself is transformed.¹⁸

Meanwhile, the invisible woman continues her visible work. But she has begun to fight back, whether in the manner of market-women’s demonstrations in Thailand or of the Belgian flight attendant who sued Sabena Airlines over sex discrimination, lost her case in the Belgian courts, and then successfully appealed it as a discrimination case to the European Common Market Court of Justice.

To fight back in solidarity, however, as a real political force, requires that women transcend the patriarchal barriers of class and race, and furthermore transcend even the solutions the Big Brothers propose to problems they themselves created.

Beyond Categorization

Women. we are told, really have nothing in common with one another, given class, race, caste, and comparable barriers. (The speaker of such Portentous Truth almost invariably is a man.) Yet Contributor after Contributor in this book contests a class analysis as at best incomplete and at worst deliberately divisive of women. Article after article attempts valiantly to not minimize the differences but to identify the similarities between and among women (with an awareness of how superbly Big Brothers of all kinds emphasize the differences).

Nor is class the only categorization invented by patriarchy to divide and conquer. As the Peruvian Contributor puts it, class oppression often masks other oppressions. Clanism (as described by Habib of Pakistan), tribalism and racism both (as analyzed by Motlalepula Chabaku of Southern Africa), the caste system. (as deplored by Jain of India), religious bigotry (as outlined by McCafferty of