For Hélène Rytman.

June 20, 2015 § Leave a comment

Some of us came to theory through the back door. Some of us had our formal education introduced to us by Marxists. (This is not a rally against Marxists, though we did have some fucked up blood in the mix in our previous life aka project one.) By male feminists. This is not a joke. This is serious. When one of us whose work has been dedicated to murdered and missing indigenous women only found out last year that Althusser killed his wife, this is a serious problem.

We want to thank you all for such a joyous and sorrowful project this summer. We concluded, as promised, in a sauna. Laura Diski had a line somewhere about getting women naked together in the sixties. That there was something important about the scene unfolding, of naked female bodies, and such. We spent a large portion of this project discussing how women, not men, had trained us to be jealous. One of the most riveting moments was how we did not focus solely on raging against a woman who may or may not have stolen our man, but the competitive spiteful raging between women.

Hélène Rytman was murdered by a man. In his memoir he makes reference to massaging her neck; he makes reference to saving her from being interpolated by the State. Against the will. He laments. He treats ideology like God; there is no outside for him. There is no outside for her because of him.

We have to end on this note, as painful as it may seem at first: Many of us did not know that Althusser killed his wife. And many of us did not know that men in our circle are rapists. How do we make these conversations in our supposed circle more obvious and transparent than they initially pretend to be? The white elephant is a cop-out at best. We don’t want to be as bad as the male-feminist who has figured out how to properly check himself on paper, but can’t pull through in real life, can only pull out.

A call for submissions will be forth coming.

In love and solidarity,


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