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"Read my manifesto and it will tell you what I am."
--Valerie Solanas
IN 1966, VALERIE SOLANAS PENNED her first play, Up Your Ass (technically titled Up Your Ass or From the Cradle to the Boat or The Big Suck or Up from the Slime), a text that would later catalyze her transition from militant writer to homicidal inpatient. She wrote the following introduction to the play, showcasing not only her strict reliance upon herself as the sole textual authority over her work but also the power of her ironic character:
I dedicate this play to ME a continuous source of strength and guidance, and without whose unflinching loyalty, devotion and faith this play would never have been written, additional acknowledgements: Myself--for proof-reading, editorial comment, helpful hints, criticism and suggestions and an exquisite job of typing. 1--for independent research into men, married women and other degenerates. (1)
Given her intense self-reliance, there is a notable irony in the fact that Solanas, when remembered at all, is almost always identified as the woman who shot Andy Warhol. Indeed, one of the most substantial resources on Solanas is the film, I Shot Andy Warhol. (2) When her authorship of the SCUM Manifesto is cited as her primary achievement, the Warhol shooting is never far behind. When the Warhol shooting of 1968 is cited as Solanas's fifteenminutes of fame, the SCUM Manifesto, originally self-published in 1967, serves as its footnote. The main function of this coupling, something I work to refute here, is to resolve any form of contradiction that may arise when comparing her life and work. This generally happens such that the contradictions inherent in the manifesto are explained by the Warhol shootings. (She also shot Mario Amaya and Fred Hughes.) These shootings become evidence of Solanas's instability, insanity, and unreliability. Therefore, any contradictions in the manifesto can be dismissed without examining their textual significance. In sum, the contradictions between the manifesto and Solanas's life, between theory and practice, are masked by the overly reductive formulation of Warhol Shooting = SCUM Manifesto in practice.
I am interested in taking these contradictions seriously and showcasing both Solanas's ironic character as well as feminist (mis)appropriations of her work. My central argument is that although Solanas's contradictions alienate her from the feminist movement (and consequently elicit a dismissive or reductive reaction to her work and actions), they also exemplify the power and importance of radical thought, both on a textual level and through the interplay between radical work and gender politics. Part I of this essay examines the discursive space between Solanas's literal body and the body of her text--a space that lays the groundwork for "radical feminism" as it was first defined. (3) By viewing Solanas as one who consistently contradicted herself, one can better understand the unusual relationship she formed between herself and her text. If we examine her contradictions, particularly with regard to her relationship with the manifesto, her ideas about sexuality, and the context of the Warhol shootings, it becomes possible to see Solanas's ironic character as something she herself champions. Contradiction that resists reduction may indeed open a critical space for discourse, one which acknowledges the expansive possibilities for radical cultural transformation. Within this framework, Solanas's radicalism, uniqueness, and importance should be acknowledged, as she purposefully constructs contradictions between herself and her manifesto, as she refuses to be assimilated into a culture that wants to market her as a circus-show-lesbian-schizophrenic-feminist, as she remains staunchly anti-movement, and as she makes room for the slippages between one's actions and one's intellect, imagination, and radical theories.
In response to the claims presented in Part 1, Part 2 illuminates the problem of assimilating Solanas's text. I investigate the manifesto's publication history, showcasing Solanas's attacks on the publishing industry and her outrage at its assaults on the manifesto. I then examine the complicated politics of claiming Solanas for the feminist movement by analyzing the various ways she has been introduced, framed, anthologized, and canonized by feminist scholars. At the heart of such discussion lie the pivotal questions: Why should we take Solanas seriously, and what does she offer to the project of (radical) feminism? Here I claim that Solanas redefines the center of feminist scholarship by speaking from an extreme margin. She arouses the central anxieties of feminism itself. She asks: Is there a difference between theory and practice? Can the project of "man-hating" (something that is constantly--and publicly--rejected by most modern feminists) be useful, even on a theoretical level? What happens if we accept, rather than eradicate, contradiction?