We live in a world which is completely configured by the males. In this world, God, who is also a male, forms the centrality of such a
configuration. If the woman poet wants to link her particular experiences with larger universals, she can call upon only a fragment of her own experiences. Much of what she knows does not link up to universals because the universals presently in existence are based upon masculine experiences and masculine norms. Handed down not from one woman to another but from the stern literary “fathers” of patriarchy to all their “inferiorized” female descendants, it is in many ways the germ of a disease or, at any rate,
a disaffection, a disturbance, a distrust that spreads like a stain throughout the style and structure of much literature by women, especially throughout literature by women before the twentieth century. For if contemporary women do now attempt the pen with energy and authority, they are able to do so only because their eighteenth- and nineteenth-century foremothers struggled in isolation that felt like illness, alienation that felt like madness, and obscurity that felt like paralysis to overcome the anxiety of authorship that was endemic to their literary subculture. Thus, while the recent feminist emphasis on positive role models has undoubtedly helped many women, it should not keep us from realizing the terrible odds against which a creative female subculture was established. Far from reinforcing socially oppressive sexual stereotyping, only a full consideration of such problems can reveal the extraordinary strength of women’s literary accomplishments in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Eileen O’Neill’s (1998, 20)1 comment in the article, “Disappearing Ink: Early Modern Women Philosophers and Their Fate in History,” seems to be very relevant in this context:
Finally, I suggest that philosophers, however important their contributions are to contemporary philosophical concerns, not only must produce followers and critics but also must find a place in an influential history of philosophy, if they are to remain in the discipline’s memory. To my knowledge, no one has yet written a general history of early modern philosophy in which it is argued that some women deserve preeminent places either because of the important role they played in past debates or because their work, in part, has moved thought along to the place where we now are. . . . [And], I suggest that given some of our current philosophical interests, and given the recent recovery of women’s philosophical contributions to the debates of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, it would seem to be high time that women be given their rightful places in the histories of our discipline.
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