Recentering “Clio's Lost Tribe”

Dialogue From time to time, the "Dialogue" section of the JOURNAL OF WOMEN'S HISTORY will feature complete sessions from historical conferences. Our first one appears below. These articles were originally presented at the session on History and Theory at the Eighth Berkshire Conference on the History of Women at Douglass CoUege on June 8, 1990. A future issue will cover protective legislation in various nations, with articles from both the "Eighth Berks" and the 1990 Social Science History Conference. Critical Theory and the History of Women: What's At Stake in Deconstructing Women's History Louise M. Newman The challenge for those of us who are convinced both that real historical women do exist and share certain experiences and that deconstruction ... makes theoretical sense is to work out some way to think both women and "woman." Mary Poovey, 19881 This paper explores a shift away from women's history to a new and different practice, gender history, and the tensions that arise as feminist scholars adapt methodologies from post-structuraUst theorists such as Jacques Derrida and Michel Foucault. In part, I hope to forge a bridge between the work of historians of women and historians of gender. I would Uke to see the field move beyond the impasse toward which it seems to be heading—an impasse sometimes characterized by academic name-calling, with historians of women accusing historians of gender of poUtical irrelevancy and historians of gender calling historians of women theoreticaUy naive. The fields of women's history and gender history are at a crucial juncture in their development. The conflict is partly over what categories of analysis should be used and how power or human agency should be conceptualized. Historians of women use the terms "experience," "identity ," and "woman" and invest individuals—women and men—with the power to alter material conditions of oppression. Historians of gender, on the other hand, offer as substitutes the terms "representation," "discourse ," and "gender." In place of experience, historians of gender speak of representations that are either present or absent in texts; in place of © 1991 Journal of Women's History, Vol. 2 No. 3 (Winter) 1991 DIALOGUE: LOUISE M. NEWMAN 59 identities, they speak of discourses constructing subjects; and in place of women's experiences, they speak of "gender" as that which gives meaning to sexual differences. For many theorists influenced by post-structuraUsm, oppression and power reside in the operations of language, although it is not always clear how subjects may resist the oppression produced by the operations of language. As Mary Poovey explains, for those who take post-structuralism to its logical conclusion, the term " 'woman' is only a social construct that has no basis in nature... a term whose definition depends upon the context in which it is bang discussed and not upon some set of sexual organs or social experiences."2 Historians of women reject this way of using the term "woman." They insist on retaining a focus on the coUective and individual experiences of flesh-and-blood women. Such historians are skeptical of the overdetermining role or power which some post-structuraUsts attribute to language. They remain committed to maintaining power for people to resist or escape from what oppresses them.3 Thus, for the purposes of this discussion, I wül speak of women's history as a practice concerned with why specific groups of women share certain experiences, while gender history provides analyses concerning how gender operates through specific cultural forms. I am using "gender" here to mean the set of meanings constructing sexual difference. When defined this way, gender may, at first glance, seem to have nothing to do with the experiences of men and women, but, as I argue throughout, understanding how gender works to construct the meanings associated with "male," "female," "masculine," "feminine," "womanly," "manly," etc., is instrumental to understanding how and why specific groups of women share certain experiences. Although I am distinguishing between these two practices, women's and gender history, ultimately I beUeve that the two practices do and should converge: writing meaningful accounts of women's (and men's) experiences, I shaU argue, cannot be accompUshed without also examining the ways in which cultural meanings...

Imagined Communities:Women's History and the History of Gender in Mexico María Teresa Fernández-Aceves (bio) The purpose of this paper is not to discuss all, or a large part, of what has been done in the Mexican women and gender historiography since the mid-1970s. My aim instead is to pinpoint the trends in the national academic culture, the most important developments of women's and gender history, mainly in Mexico, recent publications, research policies, and finally, the difficulties in doing transnational history. In twentieth-century Mexico, trained historians from different academic settings—public and private universities as well as federal and state research centers—have applied diverse perspectives from Marxism to the diverse approaches of the Annales School. In the late 1960s, Luis González y González proposed the development of regional history and microhistory in his study of San José de Gracia, a rural town in western Mexico.1 For González, microhistory referred to the local historical experience that was representative of, or more importantly a contrasting variant of, national narratives. This perspective stimulated and consolidated regional studies of different states, localities, and the revolutionary experience. Recently, Mexican historiography has moved from structural to cultural analyses incorporating the new French cultural history, promoted by Roger Chartier and the proposals of Michel de Certeau about everyday life; the Italian school of microhistory led by Carlo Ginzburg; the German historical sociology of Norbert Elias; and Benedict Anderson's study of nations and nationalism in Imagined Communities.2 However, social history, with its emphasis on structure and class analysis, remains important. Most Mexican historiography, however, has neglected women and gender. Those who do this work still comprise a small academic ghetto. During the second feminist wave in the 1970s and 1980s some feminist scholars emerged to work in periods from the colony through the Revolution of 1910. They have looked at issues of marriage, sexuality, labor, education, and politics. As elsewhere in the first stages of women's history, Mexican historians have concentrated on demonstrating that women have been historical actors and have raised questions about the traditional periodization that leaves them out.3 In 1987, Julia Tuñón Pablos wrote Mujeres en la historia de México, the first comprehensive and synthetic narrative that incorporated women from Prehispanic times to the twentieth century.4 By using a traditional periodization, Tuñón plotted the different roles ascribed to women and the changing feminine representations and practices. At [End Page 200] the same time, Carmen Ramos Escandón edited Presencia y transparencia: la mujer en la historia de México, another global vision of women in Mexican history. General bibliographies, like El álbum de la mujer, were compiled. In the 1980s, more extensive studies examined convents, sexuality, and education in colonial Mexico; women's culture, roles, and representations; female labor force participation; women and the law in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries; women and the Mexican Revolution; and the Mexican woman suffrage campaigns in the 1920s and 1950s.5 In the 1990s, as elsewhere, there has been a move from women's history to gender history. However, a gender perspective in Mexico is still identified mostly with women. Women's and gender history in Mexico have been recognized as historical fields, but the growing literature has not been incorporated into other, more mainstream historical approaches. Most of the time, these studies are read only by specialists on gender. In contrast to the Mexican and feminist historians, Mexicanist scholars from the Anglo world have drawn more upon the linguistic turn.6 Thus, their work is more embedded in feminist theory and poststructuralism. In the United States, these fields have not only been recognized but also incorporated into the academy. Unlike North American and British feminist scholars, Mexican feminist scholars tend to combine French social history perspectives—private life, everyday life, sexuality, and work—with Anglophone approaches to cultural history and discourse analysis. They cite Michèlle Perrot's, Georges Duby's, and Phillipe Ariès's multivolume works on women's and private life histories; French cultural history; Mexican and Italian microhistory; Norbert Elias's configuration and civilizing processes concepts; and E. P. Thompson's history from...

This paper deals with the way French language and literature teachers have addressed the question of social inequities at school in France from 1959 until today. Classical Humanities, which had constituted the basis of elite education for many centuries, were harshly questioned from the eighteenth century on as being inadequate to a modern world. During the twentieth century, a new criticism was expressed against classical education: it was considered as a way of reproducing the domination of the bourgeoisie by setting up a barrier against the popular pupils, who frequented the so‐called primary schools, and were thus excluded from this classical culture. The democratisation of the French school system, through the transformation of primary and secondary systems from parallel systems (for lower‐class pupils and upper‐class pupils) into sequent degrees, was therefore accompanied by the extension of a new subject: French literature. French authors, read, studied, commented on from the lowest grades of primary schools to the last grades of secondary schools, seemed to offer the common cultural references needed by a democratic society. The creation of the “Agrégation de lettres modernes” in 1959 crowned this controversial evolution, a few months after the Berthoin reform had theoretically opened the secondary schools to every pupil whatever his or her social background. However, far from being a triumphal decade for the French literary studies, the end of the 1960s witnessed violent attacks against this traditional teaching. Considered as a part of bourgeois culture, it was accused of dooming pupils from a popular background to inexorable failure. Just like the Classical Humanities earlier, French literature appeared as an instrument of ideological domination and social reproduction. At the same time, the success of structuralism in linguistics and literary studies opened alternative possibilities to the classical literary history and proposed new ways of analysing texts and literary works. In this context the transformation of the discipline itself appeared to some teachers as both an adequate and legitimate way to democratise secondary schools. This paper describes the rise, the extension, and the abandonment of this original attempt from the 1950s to today. The proposals made by the promoters of the reforms are considered, in this paper, as a complex construction where social experience, political engagement, praxis, and theory are inextricably intertwined, thus questioning the relationship between politics and school culture. This paper also examines how the emergence of didactics as a scientific field at the end of the 1970s, and the subsequent rejection of political considerations from its technical and pedagogical discourse, tended to prevent teachers from grappling directly and efficiently with the issue of social inequities in French literature and language courses. This “de‐politicisation” of the curriculum debates may well have been the symptom of an inability to conceive how culture might be defined and what role it might play in a democratic society.

Telling Tales: Historians of Our Own Lives Lise Vogel The comments I make here flow from the puzzling experience I had reading and rereading these two papers in preparation for the Berkshire Conference session.1 My perplexity centered on the way the authors placed their analyses within the larger framework of the development of women's history and feminist theory over the past two decades. Although I had been actively involved during the years in which the new women's history emerged, I did not recognize the story they told. As I examined the pieces of the story that baffled me, I put the puzzle together another way.2 History and Theory In "Critical Theory and the History of Women: What's at Stake in Deconstructing Women's History," Louise Newman describes a developing antagonism between what she caUs women's history and gender history. Where historians of women explore "why specific groups of women share certain experiences," gender historians analyze "how gender (defined as a 'set of meanings constructing sexual difference') operates through specific cultural forms." Despite the apparent methodological and phüosophical guff between the study of women's experience and that of the representation of gender, Newman argues that the two approaches "might be integrated into one discursive practice." Such an integration, she believes, is the only way to produce understandings of the past that can empower us for the future. If historians do not succeed in melding analyses of experience and representation within their research, historical scholarship may degenerate into a disempowering practice "that aUows us only to watch from the sidelines as a new God, now in the form of Language, wreaks havoc on human Ufe."3 Luce Newman, Joan Wiltiams urges feminists to move beyond a düemma in contemporary scholarly interpretation. In "Domestidty as the Dangerous Supplement of Liberalism," she reads the work of Carol GUtigan primarily as "a status report on female gender ideology in the late twentieth century" and challenges feminists who adopt its framework uncritically. The powerful impact of In a Different Voice is best understood, she argues, as a refledion of internal conflicts felt by contemporary women, caught between "the mandates of two inconsistent ideologies—domestidty and UberaUsm." Where GilUgan's solution is a retreat to domestidty via the ethic of care, Williams's provocative rereading of GUUgan's inter- © 1991 Lise Vogel 90 Journal of Women's History Winter views suggests that the conflict could be an opportunity to mobilize a more effedive feminist sodal critique. In particular, the language of domestidty must be transformed "so that it no longer functions as the voice of the victim." (69) Both papers pose important questions, at least imptidtly, concerning the sociology of feminist knowledge. Wiltiams investigates the reception of GilUgan's work, focusing on its "stunning popularity." How is it, she asks, that GiUigan's essentiaUst understanding of womanhood "rings so true"? Why do so many women still read In a Different Voice "with a shock of seU-recognition"?4 Newman suggests that feminist knowledge has been produced in response to an ever-increasing awareness of theory, culminating most recently in feminist embrace of post-structuratism. A Straw Women's History In the course of addressing the substantive issues in their papers, Newman and Wiltiams touch very briefly on the origins and development of the field of women's history. Their papers rely on a version of this academic subspedatiys history that is apparently commonplace; indeed, Newman and Wiltiams present the fads as unproblematic. But the narrative they use—which Newman and Wiltiams have simply adopted, not invented, and for which they are therefore not reaUy responsible5—has serious problems. In order to consider what these problems entaü, I must first reteU the story. In the beginning, according to this widely believed account, there was women's history. These were the bad old days, when feminist historians had to stumble forward using what limited tools they could find or fashion. Despite their best efforts, these pioneers could not help but make errors. In particular, they made three. First, they viewed women as an undifferentiated group sharing an essential womanhood; that is, they ignored such fadors as race, class, ethnidty, age...

CHOLARS working within the dominant theoretical framework for S American women's history have for many years attributed the most dramatic changes in women's historical experience to the emergence of capitalism and liberal democracy between I 820 and i 88o. The colonial period conveniently presented the before picture for studies that went on to analyze the rise of feminist movements, the impact of wage labor, and the reasons for declining numbers of children in white families after i8oo. Colonial women's history thus served as a baseline for measuring the declension of women's status in the nineteenth century. During the last two decades, scholars such as Mary Beth Norton, Linda K. Kerber, Laurel T. Ulrich, Lorena S. Walsh, and Lois Green Carr transcended this framework, finding complexity and change in their investigations of white women's lives before i 8oo. Since these pioneering efforts, scholarship on African-American, Indian, southern, and rural women (much of it for the nineteenth and twentieth centuries) has called into question the utility of subsuming the variety of women's experiences and roles under the label women's status for the purpose of making linear comparisons.1

erda Lerner's article beautifully captures the major historiographic shifts and developments in women's history since 1969. It is impor- tant, thirty-five years later, to reflect on the ways in which the study of women's experiences has evolved. Perhaps the most significant ideologi- cal influence on early women's history was the feminist movement, which sought to overthrow male domination, patriarchy, and gender discrimina- tion. As Lerner notes, the result was a proliferation of feminist scholarship in the 1980s, which placed women's voices and experiences at the center of scholarly inquiry. Specifically within the field of history, feminist thought advocated for a woman-centered approach, and argued that there was a common sisterhood among women. 1 The creation of new feminist para- digms was tremendously useful in liberating White women from scholarly neglect and oversight, and therefore a debt of gratitude is owed to the schol- ars who blazed the trail and took intellectual risks to create this field. Despite the importance of these early contributions, however, I be- lieve that the most significant progress has been made since the 1980s, after Black scholars raised critiques regarding the implicit racism in women's history that systematically overlooked how race and class func- tioned in the lives of women of color. As Eileen Boris and Angelique Janssens explained, feminists found themselves increasingly under at- tack for ignoring differences of race and ethnicity. The universalizing rheto- ric of gender claimed to embrace all women when in fact it derived from the standpoint of usually middle-class white women in North America or northern Europe. 2 Although these criticisms slightly destabilized the field, the resulting creation of intersectionality, which examines how race, class, gender, and sexuality simultaneously influence women's lives, was an important step in constructing the stories of women's experiences. 3 Yet as Lerner points out, the changes were not only dramatic and pervasive, they were also confusing (13). At this moment in the development of women's history, we must be willing to look deeply at our approaches and evaluate their effectiveness. In my opinion, the scramble to incorpo- rate race into the narrative, while critically important, was often clumsy, awkward, and strained. The problem is twofold; first, although feminism is a useful paradigm for White women, the attempt to force Black women

Policy history has straddled two disciplines—history and policy analysis—neither of which has taken it very seriously. What unites those who study policy history is not that they are ”policy historians“ per se, but that they organize their analysis and narrative around the emergence, passage, and implementation of policy. Rather than a subfield, as the historian Paula Baker recently argued, policy history has resembled area studies programs. Policy history became an interdisciplinary arena for scholars from many different fields to interact. While founders hoped that policies would become an end in themselves, rather than something used to understand other issues, scholarship since 1978 has shown that the two are not mutually exclusive. In fact, some of the most innovative scholarship has come from social or political historians who have used policy to understand larger historical phenomena. In the process, the work provided a much richer understanding of how policymaking evolved.

In recent years, two streams of feminist historiography ‐ one emerging in South Africa, the other arising from an examination of European colonialism in general ‐ have converged to create a balanced and subtle conceptual scheme within which to consider women's roles in the social world of colonial South Africa. This work identifies and avoids the inaccuracies which result from writing of women in the colonial period as though they were 'people of gender', enclosed within a 'separate sphere' created by patriarchy. Recent empirical work on settler women in South Africa, inspired by these historiographical advances, has started to provide a much more rounded view of settler women's attitudes, experiences and social roles than had hitherto existed. It is, however, possible to identify an important continuity of approach between earlier and more recent historiographical generations. This continuity pertains to the importance of the concept of 'social distance' in thinking about European women's experience and social impact in colonies. The article attempts to show that an approach centred on the concept of 'social distance', suitably adapted in light of recent advances, has major advantages: It is both gender-sensitive and gender-neutral, it is empirically well-supported and it enables clear connections to be established between women's experience and the construction of colonial society as a whole.

There's a popular phrase on bumper stickers, t-shirts, and coffee mugs: “well-behaved women seldom make history.” Harvard University professor Laurel Thatcher Ulrich coined it in the 1970s, and it has taken on a life of its own since then.1 While some see this phrase as a battle cry and a call to action, Ulrich's words remind us that history too often ignores or obscures women's experiences. Ordinary women don't make history because curriculum, books, and exhibits frequently treat women as silent bystanders in the past rather than as active participants in shaping their world.Women have always made history in this land called Utah, but the stories we tell sometimes don't reflect that. When we restore their voices and perspectives to the historical narrative, we recognize women as agents whose choices and words mattered. This helps all of us see women as leaders who contribute to our society in a variety of ways. And that in turn helps us support women and girls in business, politics, and every other arena.In a survey commissioned in 2019 by the nonprofit women's history organization Better Days 2020, over three-quarters of respondents said they were interested in learning more about Utah's history, and 94 percent agreed that “Utah women's history should be better known.”2 The Utah Women's History Initiative aims to make that happen by providing resources, sharing stories, and supporting research and programming that incorporate women into the historical narrative.Whether in the classroom or in historical scholarship, it's easiest to talk about women's history when the topic has something to do with “women's issues”: suffrage, the Equal Rights Amendment, motherhood, or reproductive health care. But women have participated in every major event and era in the past, whether that's war, government, business, or community leadership. Although a growing body of scholarship exists about Utah women in the suffrage movement, in nineteenth-century Latter-day Saint Relief Societies, and in similar endeavors, we need to know so much more! We need more research on Utah women in science and technology and in disciplines outside of education and the arts that have traditionally been seen as women's fields. We need to know about the inventors, the volunteers, and the visionaries who have made Utah their home and have made it a better place for all. We need to know more about the “well-behaved women” of all sorts who plodded ahead to keep their families afloat and to improve the world around them—whether that work seemed significant to their contemporaries or not.In order to galvanize scholarship about the many kinds of women who have lived in Utah, the Utah Women's History Initiative will serve as a connector and resource hub, both supporting and producing research that helps to move Utah women's history forward. We'll also work to bring new collections to the Utah State Historical Society that shed light on women's lived experience and perspectives. By helping to widen the lens, we aim to engage more people in the work of gathering, preserving, and sharing Utah's rich history. You'll see some of this work in the Utah Historical Quarterly, in the forthcoming Museum of Utah, in the Peoples of Utah Revisited initiative, and on our website, and we hope you'll also see it at museums, libraries, and historic sites across the state.The Utah Women's History Initiative landing page at history.utah.gov/uwh/ shares primary sources, podcasts and videos, upcoming events, and news about ongoing women's history projects in Utah. You'll find resources to help you dive into timely topics, explore virtual exhibits and primary sources, and learn a lot about Utah's past.We welcome your suggestions of sources and stories to feature and look forward to sharing discoveries with you!Deidre M. Henderson, who became Utah's ninth lieutenant governor in January 2021, has been a proponent for the study of women's history and the creation of the Women's History Initiative within the Utah Division of State History. Henderson served as a member of the Utah State Senate, representing the seventh district, from 2013 to 2021. After raising her family and becoming involved in public service, she resumed her university education and earned a degree in history from Brigham Young University in 2021. We sat down with Henderson to talk about the value of learning about the past, especially the history of women and girls.

U THE PRESIDENT'S CORNER by George Huppert In my lase column, I found it useful to peer over the shoulder ofa New York Times reporter covering the annual meeting of the American Sociological Association. In this way I was able to touch briefly upon a distressingly banal topic, namely the high jinks some of our academic colleagues engage in when they play at revolution. Such gesturing is cause for amusement , but it is also cause for concern, because it turns conferences, committee meetings, journals, and classrooms into ideological battlegrounds, usually ofa truly silly sort. Such practices have spread to other continents; they travel from one discipline to another, so that debates over the literary canon, already halfforgotten in California, resurface in South Africa, where a committee composed of (white) high school teachers decided to recommend the exclusion ofShakespeare's Hamlet from the curriculum (too eurocentric). It is probably true that American academics occupy pride of place in the contest for the most ferocious expressions of ideological bias in the western world. This distinction has been duly noted for some years now in serious critical publications such as the Times Volume 3, Number I Historically Speaking The Newsletter of The Historical Society 656 Beacon Street Mezzanine Boston, MA 02215-2010 617/358-0260 Fax: 617/358-0250 histork@bu.edu www.bu.edu/histork I diior: Kirse G. May Assistant Editor: Sarah M. Abbott Literary Supplement and the New York Review ofBooks. More recently, the disturbing facts about academic politics in the United States are actually being discussed in textbooks written for beginners. A case in point is a new British manual for history students written by l.udmilla Jordanova called History in Practice (London: Arnold and Oxford University Press, 2000). The author is a historian of art and science who has taught at the Universities of Essex and York. She presents herselfas a feminist and as someone on the Left. Her advice to students strikes this reader as wholly admirable. After reviewing the various epistemológica! challenges faced by historians in recent years, Jordanova concludes that there are indeed "clear standards by which historical work can be judged," a position which has, as we know, been vociferously challenged by "critical theorists"—the uncritical theorists have not been heard from, as yet. Jordanova insists that historians have ethical obligations: "we are not free to say whatever we like about the past." She also recommends that we adopt a "greater willingness to write for the general public,"—a desideratum, it should be pointed out, that is wildly at odds with the jargon-possessed scribbling we often come across. Above all, Jordanova calls for openness . Although her own sympathies "lie more with the Left than with the Right," she insists that she is not automatically uninterested in or disapproving ofconservative history, "so long as it is done well." She admits to being "enraged" by the kind ofwomen's history, for instance, that makes "simplistic, universalist claims about the oppression of women." This makes not only for poor history, she points out, but also for poor politics—and, she insists, "these shortcomings are not forgivable just because we might be on the same side." Of course, she concedes that one cannot keep politics out ofhistorical scholarship , but she stresses the importance of being open about it. "Never, ever, should disagreements be personalized or allowed to get nasty, leading to the blocking ofjobs or publications," she cautions the student reader, while admitting that most historians "will witness some such behaviour in the course of their careers." Readers of History and Practice will not be left in doubt about the leading part played by Americans in the politicization of the discipline, especially in the field of women's history. She explains that what was new about women's history was its "overt association with a populist women's movement " and that the main impetus for women's history as a distinct field coincided, especially in American universities, with a "second-wave feminism, when more women were trying to make academic careers in male-dominated institutions." To this extent, she concludes, "the development of women's history could be seen as a move that served the...

ObjectiveOfficial guidelines advocate abstinence from alcohol during pregnancy. However, a number of women consume alcohol while pregnant. Understanding women's reasons and the context for drinking during pregnancy outside the context of an alcohol use disorder may be helpful for interventions of healthcare providers and health policymakers. This paper reports a systematic review of qualitative studies focusing on women's perspectives of the issue of alcohol consumption during pregnancy on one hand, and on recommendations on the other. DesignSeven electronic databases and citation lists of published papers were searched for peer‐reviewed articles published between 2002 and 2019 in English and French, reporting primary empirical research, using qualitative design and exploring women's views and experiences about the issue of alcohol and pregnancy. Studies involving participant women identified as having an alcohol use disorder while pregnant were excluded. Using the thematic synthesis method, we extracted and coded findings and recommendations from the selected studies. Setting and participantsWomen who mostly reported being abstinent or having reduced their alcohol consumption during pregnancy, and non-pregnant women FindingsWe included 27 studies from 11 different countries. The quality of studies was assessed using the CASP tool. We developed five analytical themes synthesising women's views and experiences of abstinence and occasional alcohol consumption during pregnancy: lack of reliable information; inadequate information from health professionals; women's perception of public health messages; women's experiences and perception of risk; and social norms and cultural context. Six analytical themes synthesising recommendations were generated: improving health professionals’ knowledge and screening practice; diversification of information sources; improving women's information; empowering women's choice; delivering appropriate messages; and addressing socio-structural factors. Key conclusionsOur review provides evidence that information on the issue of alcohol consumption during pregnancy should be improved in both qualitative and quantitative terms. However, the reasons for pregnant women's occasional drinking are complex and influenced by a range of socio-cultural factors. Therefore, healthcare professionals and policymakers should take into account women's experiences and the context of their everyday lives when conveying preventive messages. Our review demonstrates that awareness strategies should not focus solely on women's individual responsibility. They should also address a wider audience and foster a more supportive socio-structural environment. Implications for practiceThe understanding of women's perspective is essential to designing sound prevention interventions and credible messages. Our review provides a comprehensive summary of the state of qualitative research on women's experience of the risk of alcohol use during pregnancy, as well as the literature's recommendations about how to address this issue. This review also contributes to identifying overlooked areas of recommendations that require further reflection and research.

A central figure in contemporary Turkish cinema, Nuri Bilge Ceylan is a director who uses cinema to develop, consider and communicate ideas about the world he films. Although language has long been the dominant vehicle for thought in Western scholarship, this thesis will argue that the image is an equally effective tool for the development and communication of thought, using the presentation of nature and technology in Ceylan’s work as an example. Through a method of visual study devised from the theory of Nicole Brenez, Andrew Benjamin and Alain Bergala and the film work of Harun Farocki, this thesis examines the ways nature and technology diverge, intersect and merge in Ceylan’s films, to argue that, in his view, technology and nature are rhythms of experience. Despite the concentration on a single director, this work is not an auteur study and does not seek to establish a map of the director’s style. It does, however, pay particular attention to the aesthetic dimension of his work. Concentrating on medium, materiality, rhythm, and the presence of space, light and colour, I demonstrate how Ceylan uses these elements to think about nature and technology. This approach is without precedent in existing accounts of his ouevre. From the ecological anxiety of Clouds of May to the sublime synthesis of natural world and digital colour in Once Upon a Time in Anatolia, Ceylan presents a range of perspectives on the experience of technology and nature. The thesis contributes to two key areas of film studies: the growing body of work on Ceylan and Turkish cinema and the argument for cinema as a method of complex and philosophical thought. The idea that images can be both immanently critical and critical tools has precedents in books like Yvette Biro’s Turbulence and Flow, which takes up Ilya Prigogine and Isabelle Stengers’ arguments for science and philosophy as “‘open systems’ that endlessly dialogue with the cultural environment, effecting change and in turn being marked by the exchange” and in Nicole Brenez’s comparative analyses, where one film speaks back to another, challenging, supporting and completing it. My work contributes to this area and offers a further example of the image as critical tool. It also challenges traditional notions of photographic ontology and seeks to contribute to a non-oppositional ontology of digital cinema, arguing that the ‘truth’ of an image does not lie in its indexicality. This places the work in a growing field of study that is moving away from critical theory, cultural studies, psychoanalysis and semiotics, choosing instead to revive early film theory and ask questions of cinema’s ontology via the cinema itself. Two dominant positions emerge from the analyses. The first is of nature and technology as quotidian experiences. The second is of them as overwhelming and in excess of the space made available for them in the lives of the characters. Both constitute rhythms that are absorbed by the films and influence their pace and rhythmic design.

Reviewed by: Chocolate, Women and Empire: A Social and Cultural History Kevin Grant Chocolate, Women and Empire: A Social and Cultural History By Emma Robertson . Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2009. This well-structured and clearly written book examines the English cocoa and chocolate industry, which has long marketed the purity of its products and its ethical, beneficent employment practices. Focusing on the firm Rowntree & Co., Ltd., Robertson problematizes the paternalistic image of the industry at large by revealing the integral, subordinate roles of women in the so-called cocoa chain between a Yoruba village in Nigeria and the city of York. Robertson draws upon company archives, municipal and national archives, published sources, and a small number of oral histories to represent the daily lives of working women in the context of global capitalism and gender and racial discrimination. "This book begins with the romantic construction of chocolate," Robertson explains, "but will attempt to understand the actual human endeavors, and systematic exploitation, which have made such chocolate fantasies possible." (3) Accordingly, chapters 1 and 2 recount and critique nineteenth- and twentieth-century advertising by Rowntree and other firms, demonstrating how they blended imperial histories of chocolate into their own romantic, marketable narratives. Chapter 3 then uses oral histories to examine African women's experiences of cocoa farming, and Chapter 4 explains how Rowntree represented this colonial exploitation to its employees and the city of York in promoting an imperial culture of which the community was largely unselfconscious. Chapter 5 uses oral histories of female Rowntree factory workers to demonstrate the women's experiences of "gendered and raced labour in chocolate manufacture." (12) The study articulates York's relationship not only to imperial culture, but also to colonial labor. The third chapter on African women farmers is followed by a chapter—the strongest of the book—in which Robertson uses the Rowntree in-house publication, Cocoa Works Magazine, to offer a detailed picture of the activities through which York's working class, and especially women, engaged with an imperial world. In view of the African women's lives illuminated by the preceding chapter, the reader can appreciate the company's mediation of a colonial reality of which the Rowntree employees were dimly aware, despite the fact that the African women made their work possible. There is a productive tension in the book between local cultural and social history and global labor history. Robertson's analysis would have been given more weight by a larger number of oral histories, but she deserves credit for pushing the boundaries of the local with a creative combination of historical sources. This book is also a women's history in which the author reveals women as "active agents" who negotiated their ways between and across gendered and raced boundaries. Robertson asserts that African women "are not and never have been passive bystanders in the cocoa economy." (117) The implication that there is a prevailing perception of passivity is difficult to reconcile with fine scholarship on African women's labor history since the 1980s, such as work by Iris Berger and Elizabeth Schmidt. In addressing the activities of women in York, the author's analysis of "minority women" tends to collapse the significant cultural differences between the three women of her case study. One woman was born to Cantonese parents in Liverpool before moving to York with her family, the second was recruited by Rowntree from Malta, and the third was born to an Asian family in Zimbabwe before moving to Uganda and ultimately migrating to England as a refugee in the 1970s. (190-93) The category of minority needs nuance, as it appears equivalent here to the category of non-white. To her credit, Robertson acknowledges that the women in question sometimes do not see the same boundaries that frame her own analysis. In referring to Asian refugees from Uganda, she states, "The Rowntree firm...had a part to play in the acceptance of refugees as workers, even as they were positioned as workers within a capitalist, racist and patriarchal system." (186) She subsequently notes that the three minority women with whom she spoke "simply did not feel that they had been subjected to racial prejudice either...

Editor's Note As this issue went to press, all of the files, disks, and books, along with the worries and joys, of the Journal of Women's History were in the process of moving from Bloomington, Indiana to Columbus, Ohio. Our first issue will not appear until the spring of 1997, but starting July 1 we assume responsibility for the final stages of issues already put together at Indiana University. We at Ohio State are thrilled about this opportunity, and we are grateful to our predecessors and especially to editors Christie Farnham and Joan Hoff for trusting us with their "baby." I suspect that they feel both relief and some anxiety as we take over. I keep thinking of Madeleine Doty, an American member of the Women's International League for Peace and Freedom, who wrote as she stepped down from the editorship of the organization's journal Pax in 1931, "It is a little bit a child to me as I have given so much of my time and strength to it." The Journal is already a sturdy child and we look forward to ushering her into her adolescence. As the journal of record for the international field of women's history, the Journal of Women's History is committed to publishing and reviewing feminist scholarship about women. For us, the contested term "feminist" means a recognition that gender is an important category of analysis; an assertion that women have been historically disadvantaged relative to men of their race, class, ethnicity, religion, or sexual identity; and a commitment to changing the structures that systematically privilege men over women. The Journal has never attempted to impose one feminist "line" but has recognized the multiple perspectives captured by the term "feminisms." Its central principle has been a focus on the study of women rather than gender systems. But we believe that the divide between "women's history" and "gender history" can be, and is, bridged by work on women that is sensitive to the particular historical constructions of gender that shape and are shaped by women's experiences. Our vision for the Journal of Women's History involves building on what we see as great strength. We hope to facilitate even more interaction among different national fields of women's history by seeking out explicitly comparative work and by publishing special thematic issues that juxtapose scholarship on different nations and regions of the globe. We will continue to include, in reviews and abstracts, books published in languages other than English. Martina Kramers, Dutch editor of the International Woman Suffrage Alliance journal Jus Sujfragii, insisted in 1907 on the need to translate material into English for the "poor monolingual © 1996 Journal of Women's History, Vol. 8 No. 3 (Fall) 1996 Editor's Note 7 Americans," and we believe that bridging the language gap remains important. We intend to maintain and develop the extremely provocative dialogues —or what Claire Robertson likes to call "multilogues"—on conceptual frameworks in women's history, extending discussion on the uses of interdiciplinary and theoretical approaches such as poststructuralism, Marxism, womanism, subaltern studies, and queer theory for practitioners of women's history. By publishing responses and rejoinders, and seeking authors beyond the borders of the U.S., we hope to stimulate creative thinking about issues that sometimes divide us. And we want to continue the letters to the editor section, so we invite readers to write us with their thoughts and concerns about the field and the contents of the Journal. Finally, we plan to expand the "Documents" section by regularly including discussions of particular archival collections, oral history repositories , or other materials located anywhere in the world. We encourage submissions of this sort that might serve as a valuable resource for Journal readers. A final word about the new editorial staff. I had to decide about putting in a bid to take on the responsibilities of the editorship while my mother was dying in the spring of 1995. Given how difficult it was even to think about it, I am delighted to say that I think I made the right decision. As a women's historian interested in comparative and international women's history, I...

“Ideology and simultaneously more than mere ideology”: On Habermas’ reflections and hypotheses on a further structural transformation of the political public sphere