Unraveling the Anti-Institutionalism of Radical Feminism

By Rachel Roncka, Art by Lillia Hammond

“For the master's tools will never dismantle the master's house. They may allow us temporarily to beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change.” 

- Audre Lorde

Audre Lorde’s “master’s tools” metaphor is a familiar mantra among intersectional feminist communities. Although often invoked to empower and encourage the ongoing feminist struggle against the patriarchal status quo, it also alludes to one of the political left’s greatest weaknesses: anti-institutionalism. 

The more I venture into the world of campus activism and leftist academia, I see that much of the literature and rhetoric is permeated by anti-institutional attitudes. Leading scholars in prison abolition, queer theory, radical feminism, etc. frequently deploy the language of “dismantling the system” and forming a “new society,” usually without any clear roadmap for how to do that. Those employed in traditional institutions are met with scorn, regardless of their reasons for pursuing those career paths. Simply being perceived as part of “the system” automatically undercuts your credibility and morality. 

While it makes for compelling reading material, I worry about the practical implications of such extreme discourse and the mentalities it encourages. Excessive anti-institutionalism undermines our ability to build coalitions and enact change that could drastically improve people’s lives. In this way, it is actually a friend of the status quo that radical feminism aims to disrupt. 

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Ideally, I could start by offering a comprehensive definition of what “radical feminism” is, but I know I am not qualified to do that. There is so much fluidity and variation within feminism and its many different strains that a singular definition may not even exist. It’s probably more helpful to describe what radical feminism is not. For my analysis, the most significant feature of radical feminism is the way it differentiates itself from liberal feminism. This form of feminism is somewhat easier to explain. Liberal feminism aims to achieve gender equality through political and legal reforms. The radical feminism I am concerned with views liberal feminism as an inferior and unenlightened predecessor, precisely for its focus on reform.

I see currents of this kind of radical feminism throughout the feminist canon, like in the work of bell hooks, and I hear echoes of it within intersectional feminist communities like Spare Rib. 

It is important to think critically about our governing institutions, to recognize they were founded to uphold a white supremacist, patriarchal social order. But I worry that radical feminism’s anti-institutionalism has gone too far, to the point where it becomes an obstacle to meaningful progress.

The more I explore leftist academia, I notice patterns of extremity in the rhetoric of radical feminism: Critique turns to condemnation. Reform is reviled. Incremental change is insufficient. “Liberal feminist” has become a derogatory term (I thought it was just the misogynists who could turn “feminist” as an insult) for someone perceived as insufficiently radical and, consequently, an enemy to true feminist struggle.

Here’s an example. In a reading from my Feminist Political Theory class, author Paisley Currah points out the tension between queer theorists and LGBTQ+ rights legal advocates. Some queer theorists criticize the legal frameworks used to enshrine marriage equality for reinforcing the sex and gender categories that queer theorists seek to dismantle. While not explicitly stated, such critique depicts those political strategies as ineffective or, at worst, morally deficient and regressive. Currah identifies this instance as part of queer theorists’ tendency to “belittle state-directed political intervention.” 

Every time I come across this tendency, I feel a familiar wave of frustration. Is this what it means to be radical? To pick apart the philosophical minutiae underlying the political strategies that won landmark victories for feminist and LGBTQ+ movements? To obsess over the purity of the moral reasoning behind our political actions, rather than focus on their material outcomes? 

There are a lot of ironies to the anti-institutionalism of radical feminism. Perhaps the most glaring is that intersectionality, a core principle of every social equality movement, has origins in the liberal feminism which radical feminism insists on vilifying. The concept of intersectionality was first articulated by feminist legal scholar and civil rights attorney Kimberlé Crenshaw. She derived her ideas from an analysis of discrimination cases involving Black women. Evidently, the institution of the American legal system is a key venue where intersectional feminist action can be taken, but radical feminism would disagree.

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Another irony of radical feminism is that much of its anti-institutional rhetoric comes from those who are embedded in the pinnacle of all institutions: higher education. Here in our little bubble of academia, we sit in classrooms discussing readings by scholars who work at other elite institutions. We entertain the possibilities of replacing market capitalism with full blown socialism or communism. We imagine communities with no official authorities to enforce the law or ensure accountability. We read books that glorify anarchism as the most moral, liberating form of social (dis)order. All the while, we are so far removed from the actual communities these radical ideas seek to transform. I can’t help but wonder how those outside of the institution of higher education would react to this radical feminist rhetoric. If recent trends in American politics among the working class are any indication, the reaction would probably be unfavorable. 

I’ve begun to think that, in many ways, being radical is a privilege. Of course, plenty of marginalized people discover their political radicalism out of need for survival, because their circumstances are so dire that radicalism is the only logical response. But I know that for myself, and likely many of us who have the opportunity of pursuing an Ivy League education, that’s not the case. I feel very fortunate to be able to discuss wildly ambitious social theories, to critique the strategies of activists’ whose political contributions earned me the ability to even attend college. 

I think it’s easy for us to take up radical political commitments when we don’t have to deal with their actual consequences. We stop short of discussing how fully enacting radical feminist ideas would require us to completely upend civil society as we know it. Not only is that unrealistic in such a large, established democracy as the United States, but I don’t think many of us would actually want to live in that reality.

If reform through existing legislative processes only serves to reinforce oppressive institutions, how do we “dismantle the system” once and for all? Insurrection? I thought undermining American democracy was the far-right’s thing. That sounds pretty scary, to topple the state without laying groundwork for the social order that follows. To ask everyone to subject not just themselves but their loved ones, their parents, their children, to that uncertainty and possible danger is asking a lot. 

As we’ve seen from the pandemic, in times of widespread crisis, it is always the marginalized who suffer the most. Here lies another irony, for the marginalized are exactly those people radical activists claim would benefit the most from societal revolution. Additionally, many radical feminist conceptions of an ideal society rely on relational ethics that I do not trust a nation of millions of vastly different people (many of whom hold deep seated prejudices) to ever uphold. 

The frightening, uncertain implications of radical feminist political commitments is what alienates people from the movement, even if they agree with its underlying values and beliefs. I’ve noticed there is an intuitive hostility toward any hesitation or opposition to these radical commitments. To suggest that some proclamations of radical feminism might be too idealist is interpreted as moral deficiency, a willingness to compromise on the uncompromisable. You might as well just tattoo “liberal feminist” across your forehead. I worry that if such radical ideas dominate feminism, if commitment to them becomes a prerequisite for calling oneself a “feminist” at all, we will doom the broad coalitions we need to effectively advocate for equality.

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My greatest concern with radical feminism’s anti-institutionalism is that it forecloses meaningful opportunities for intervention. It discourages passionate, motivated people from obtaining the political influence that would enable them to disrupt existing hierarchies of power from within. 

I sense these anti-institutional attitudes in the reactions I get after mentioning that I am a Government major in activist spaces on campus. I make sure to quickly follow up with the fact that I’m also minoring in Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies, as if that is penance for my sins against feminism.

Radical feminism says that joining or complying with institutions reinforces their legitimacy and dominance. The underlying assumption is that our governing institutions are inherently oppressive and irredeemable. That arbitrary laws and systems exert control over our bodies and psyche while providing no benefit to society. But are laws and systems really so arbitrary when you consider their material outcomes for marginalized people? 

Political, legislative institutions have been the venue for civil rights struggles for a reason. Activists, motivated by radical ideas of equality, used the tools available to them. And at the time, exercising one’s voice in politics as a queer person and/or person of color was a radical feat. Maybe their efforts didn’t completely revolutionize society, but they still changed the status quo in a significant way and made millions of lives better. For radical feminists today to say that reform is insufficient seems to invalidate the sacrifices of past activists. 

The reality is that our flawed systems aren’t going to be overthrown anytime soon. I don’t think my capacities are best utilized by rejecting any opportunity to shape our institutions just to preserve my identity as a true radical feminist. In fact, I feel as though doing so would be shirking a responsibility that the privilege of my education and social position grants me.  

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There is a huge chasm between radical feminists’ words and actions. It must be closed, but not by following through on promises of social revolution. Radical change doesn’t have to happen in one fell swoop, and the expectation that it must only holds us back from taking steps toward real progress. We need to remember that reform can be radical, that imperfect progress doesn’t equate regression. Change that appears “incremental” in the grand scheme of things can be life-changing at the individual level. Who are we to say that’s insignificant?

It’s true that our systems and the status quo they make up are deeply flawed, but that doesn’t mean they are completely irredeemable. At the end of the day, institutions are made up of people, and people have agency. Generations of social progress are unraveling before our very eyes because far-right radicalism has infected our institutions so thoroughly. I wonder, what would happen if the left tried out that strategy? If our governing systems were run by people determined to resist their dominant norms, to shake things up from within? Radical feminists surely have enough conviction to retain their values and motivations in those environments.

Let’s end as we began, with Audre Lorde’s metaphor of the master’s tools. But what if we re-envision it, this time without its anti-institutional undertones? What if we feminists were to take up those tools and refashion them into our own, infused with our radical values, hopes and visions? What if instead of seeking to dismantle the master’s house, we stage a feminist infiltration, take over and make it welcoming for all who have been locked out? Maybe we aren’t razing the master’s house to the ground, but eventually it will be unrecognizable from how it began. 

I see this as a more viable strategy for radical feminism. If we want to really make change, then we can’t lose sight of our political reality in pursuit of overly-ambitious goals. I don’t see this as giving up or settling for less. After all, it’s only settling if we stop there - and we have every intention to keep going.