In Memory of Shulamith Firestone

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Over the years I occasionally googled (shame on my laziness, depending solely on google) Shulamith Firestone, wondering what became of this second wave feminist who wrote the Dialectic of Sex, a brilliant, ground breaking, and sometimes wrongheaded (in my humble opinion) book that profoundly affected me, only a few years younger than she. I found nothing beyond the mention of the book: no other publications, no political activities, no personal statistics about where she lived, who she lived with, how she spent her time.

Yesterday, in the New Yorker, I found out. Firestone died last August, alone, suffering from mental illness, in the 10^th Street apartment she’d lived in since the 1970s.  I cried as I read Susan Faludi’s account of Firestone’s life: stifled and expelled by an Orthodox Jewish father; abandoned by a mother who failed to defend her; and betrayed by a sisterhood that descended into chaos and power struggles unable, as Faludi describes it, “to thrive in the world they had done so much to create.”

I’ve often written of the internecine fighting that ruins movements and demoralizes its movents, but the radical feminism of the 1960s and 70s was so powerful and so necessary that despite its failures and destroyed lives so many of us would not be who we are today without it. That’s what makes Firestone’s story, and others like her, all the more tragic. Faludi quotes from feminist Kate Millet’s essay, “The Feminist Time Forgot,” about those who had “disappeared to struggle alone in makeshift oblivion or vanished into asylums and have yet to return to tell the tale.” Firestone was one of those who “vanished into asylums,” many times, diagnosed as schizophrenic. Several times support groups were organized by one of her sisters and women friends, but in the end she died alone and poverty stricken in her tenement.

As I said in my Marriage blog, I recently reread the Dialectic of Sex. The idea of cyber babies she posits as the means to free women “from the tyranny of their reproductive biology” makes me laugh. Other readers will object to any number of other views that “take on the world,” as Millett thought her book did. That’s what a revolutionary book does, and Shulamith Firestone was indeed a revolutionary. I suppose I’m glad that I finally found out what happened to her, but I’m also profoundly sad. Rest in peace, “Shulie.”