A pretty remarkable book, published two years before Gender Trouble, that lays out a small (and, it must be said, wretchedly cis- and Eurocentric) socialist-feminist history of the category of “women,” demonstrating its many changes and showing that it has no essence lying outside of history. (Indeed, what does? - but it’s the nature of real social abstractions like gender/sex that this constantly has to be demonstrated in order to even get to square one in analyzing them.) Puncturing through the appearance that “womanhood” or “femaleness” is pre-given, fixed and unassailable is an indispensable move for a communist approach to the liberation of proletarian women to make. Riley works through the vexing ways in which “women” slips around as a political category, analyzing it as a sort of character-mask which those under its designation wear, but which is never worn all the time - you can’t be “always a woman” or “completely a woman,” but you can’t swear off being a woman either (except by transitioning - but she’s a cis woman writing in 1988 and doesn’t address trans struggle). We can’t just strip away the harmful stuff that’s been imposed on women by male-supremacist class society to find the positive kernel of True Womanhood underneath, either: womanhood *is* the imposition. Feminists of different kinds have had to go back and forth between claiming to represent and fight for “women” and having to distance themselves from the inevitable destructive, neutralizing pull that the category of “women” exerts. Riley includes a useful section on the involvement of 19th-century bourgeois philanthropic white women in the formation of modern social science and social work, which both serves to demonstrate her points and provides valuable information in its own right about how bourgeois feminism has been involved in corralling, managing and repressing class revolt from proletarian women.
In fact, Denise Riley gets right to the edge of advocating for the end of the sexuation of human beings, and then says that such a transformation is unlikely to ever happen. Why? As I see it, Am I That Name has four main limitations:
- Riley constrains herself with Foucauldian thinking, fixating excessively on language and stopping short of properly investigating sexuation as a social process of the division of labor in class societies. She therefore implicitly keeps a degree of the split between “sex” and “gender” in place, which I almost fooled myself wasn’t happening until she popped up at the end of the book about people being “biologically female.” Retaining this split, which comes from the deeply reactionary sexologist and abuser of intersex children John Money, has awful consequences for trans proletarians, and seriously undercuts the entire thrust of the book. This limit therefore has to be overcome in considering the book’s analysis - for history serving this purpose, Julian Gill-Peterson’s Histories of the Transgender Child is badly written (and badly language-fixated and Foucauldian) but does the job.
- Because of how Riley constrains herself to language-fixated theoretical tools, her thinking fails to be fully materialist, and her historical analysis is held back. This, in fact, is *why* she stumbles and falls back on the notion of a “natural female sex” after going so far to undermine it. She’s able to analyze and demonstrate the historical movement of the “women” category well enough, but can’t grasp the historical-material bones and heart of that movement, especially because she doesn’t incorporate any analysis of the division of labor in class societies or the social and physical-metabolic relationship between human class societies and nature. For this, I highly recommend Alfred Soh-Rethel, Intellectual and Manual Labor: a Critique of Epistemology. Another consequence of this insufficiently materialist thinking is that she can see “women”’s discontinuities but not its continuities, and frames the social abstraction of womanhood as somehow unreal, fictional, rather than as a socially real abstraction - intrusions of bourgeois skeptical idealist philosophy which weaken the analysis.
- In line with this lack of an adequate historical materialism is that Riley provides powerful analysis and evidence against cross-class, and therefore bourgeois, models of feminism that claim to work for all women while in fact working to advance the careers/positions of bourgeois, primarily white, cis and abled, women within capitalist society - yet Riley herself doesn’t break with this generic, cross-class feminism, instead merely advocating critical awareness of its dynamics and limits. This shows up in her critically engaging with the Fabian-cum-Stalinist “socialism” of Beatrice Webb, but not with, say, Alexandra Kollontai; it shows up in her criticism of bourgeois sociological philanthropic ladies’ feminism not extending to a class critique of the category of “feminism” in general, or a consideration of how that category got extended into the communist project when it was considered as entirely a label for bourgeois women’s agitation by communist women like Goldman, Luxemburg and Kollontai in the early 20th Century; it shows up, most finally, in the implicit analytic separation of sex/gender dynamics from the core operations of class society in general.
- Part and parcel with the incomplete consideration of class is the total Eurocentrism of Riley’s historical account, which shows her to be repeating the same bourgeois-pseudouniversalist white feminism she agrees with the criticism of. The twin of this Eurocentrism, which may be less obvious to some readers, is that Riley focuses only on the pressures of being designated part of the category “women,” and nowhere even mentions the pressures of being seen as un-woman, partially woman, or not woman at all but entirely below that category, in the category of animal or monster. This means that despite her embrace of criticisms of white-supremacist faux-universalism, she does not consider the concrete situation of proletarian black, disabled, trans or intersex women at all, and her thinking is rendered abstract, out of place, and in need of transformation in order to be useable to us.
Regardless of all that, reading Am I That Name was important, even a bit revelatory. Limited as it is, if this were repeating the analysis given by dozens of other books I would give it three stars; for its historical rarity and the clarity of what Riley achieves within her too-tight limits, I’m giving it four.