When It Deconstructed, or, Gender, Lies, and Videotape

Professor Sondra Lear was depressed. The backlash against feminist scholars was too effective. None of her feminist colleagues could get promoted. None of her feminist graduate students could get hired. Only the conservative women patriarchy judged to be proper had a chance to succeed. must do something, Sondra thought as she entered the conclusion to Feminist Fabulation into her computer. She was very tired. Her fatigue made her feel giddy. solve this problem, I'll just have to resort to magic, she said to herself while laughing. She typed three words: feminist fabulation magic. Then, she took hold of her cat's tail, waved it across the top of her terminal twice, and said, wish I could make things better for feminist academicians. Her terminal began to beep and shake. The words on the screen blurred. Frightened, Sondra's cat jumped from his accustomed place on the terminal top. Oh no. It's midnight. I'm near the end of my book. My computer is breaking. As if things aren't bad enough, said Sondra. The machine seemed to go back to normal. Sondra breathed a sigh of relief-until she saw a woman's face on the screen. She pressed the escape key. Smoke came out of the computer. So did the woman. The figure, attired in a tasteful suit and pearls, said, in a patrician accent, Your troubles are over. I am Catharine Stimpson, your academic feminist fairy goddess mother. I know the problem. I know the solution. Deconstructing the patriarchal academy requires four elements: one, gender; two, lies; three, videotape; four, magic. In other words, we can turn female feminist scholars into what they are not. But, Sondra, in order for my plan to succeed, you must embark upon a quest. You must collect the ingredients for the magic potion I will concoct. The potion has six ingredients: one, two buttons from a suit belonging to Margaret Thatcher; two, the title page of Helen Vendler's most recent manuscript; three, orange skins left over from Anita Bryant's breakfast; four, Saran Wrap from Marabel Morgan's kitchen cabinet; five, a swatch from the hem of Sandra Day O'Connor's black robe; six, Nancy Reagan's hat. Take your cam-corder; you must tape these women. Sondra immediately phoned her travel agent and cat sitter. She was soon the owner of plane tickets to London, Boston, Florida, middle America, and Washington. She flew frequently. She broke into offices and houses. To make a long story short, she gathered all the ingredients Catharine required. After all, if

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