Come, let us counsel some cold stranger
How we sought safety, but loved danger.
So, with stiff walls about us, we
Chose this more fragile boundary:
Hills, where light poplars, the firm oak,
Loosen into a little smoke. --Louise Bogan
The Hottentots [exiles from Southern Africa in England] then, saw themselves as having fetched up, by great misfortune upon a miserable island. They had fallen among the master race. They wished to register their objections. They had, it was true, learned too many of the master's ways. They drank his liquor, caught his diseases, traded with him and accommodated him. All right, they'd compromised. But they would not give in. . . . They would never go over to the enemy.--Christopher Hope
Feminists, like other avant-gardes of intellectuals, artists, and social critics in history, are always scrambling for the high ground. They wish to separate themselves from the enemy, and often the best position from which to pontificate against error seems to be above. These modernist and postmodernist articulations of self-exclusion are certainly as predictably spatial. Feeling stranded in an alien land, exposed and vulnerable, they wish at every stage to "register their objections."1 They/we want to make it perfectly clear that accommodation to patriarchy (or its equivalent in power)