‘‘Power lines’’ may also take on a di√erent spin of the imaginary. The lines
we inscribe, the phrases we turn, the webs of meaning we weave—what possi-
bilities for feminist futures might arise from these lines? The spider weaves a
new language from the webs she churns from her body. Fine shimmering
fibers emerge from her belly as she moves from leaf to branch to leaf to branch.
The sun catches her work, illuminates it. Dew and web and sun, dancing in
golden light. What languages might we weave at the intersection between the
mundane and the divine? ‘‘Power lines’’ also evoke the institutional status of
academic feminism: the lines that employ us, divided up according to institu-
tional needs, frame the conditions of possibility both for our academic labor
and for the politics that inform our belonging.
Women of color from a wide range of social locations and antiracist allies
have produced volumes of work marking the exclusionary practices of aca-
demic feminism, women’s studies, and the women’s movement in the United
States. Seminal anthologies in this tradition include This Bridge Called My Back
(Moraga and Anzaldúa 1981), All the Women Are White, All the Blacks Are
Men, But Some of Us Are Brave (Hull et al. 1982), Yours in Struggle (Bulkin et
al. 1984), Home Girls (Smith 1983), Sister Outsider (Lorde 1984), Feminist
Theory from Margin to Center (hooks 1984), Women, Race, and Class (Davis
1983); and such writings as ‘‘The Combahee River Statement’’ (Combahee
River Collective 1983) and ‘‘White Women Listen!’’ (Carby 1982). These
writings laid the theoretical groundwork necessary to reveal the limitations of
romanticized notions of struggle as ‘‘women of color’’ used the writing pro-
cess to forge a collective, imagined identity through the process of analyzing
their experiences and theorizing the ‘‘intersecting’’ modes of oppression that
constitute those experiences (see Anzaldúa 1981). Increasingly, the conversa-
tion seeks to address issues of transnationalism and postcoloniality: Feminist
Genealogies, Colonial Legacies, Democratic Futures (Alexander and Mohanty
1997), Sing, Whisper, Shout, Pray! (Alexander et al. 2003), This Bridge We Call
Home (Anzaldúa and Keating 2002), Thinking Through (Bannerji 1995), and
Feminism without Borders (Mohanty 2003).
This turn to the politics of love is inspired by, among others, the work of
Chela Sandoval (2000): ‘‘revolutionary love’’ occurs as we ‘‘submit, however
temporarily, to what is ‘intractable’ ’’ (19), to a state of being ‘‘not subject to
control or governance . . . to pass into another kind of erotics, to the amplitude
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