A word from Trix:

In 2007, Mimi came to visit me in Istanbul, laden down with ratty second-wave paperbacks, peanut butter, hair products and a shiny purple bikini–my care package. It was the summer before she began her Ph.D program and she also came with an armload of reading to accomplish before her coursework started up in the fall.

Among her back-to-school picks was Sandy Stone’s The War of Desire and Technology at the Close of the Mechanical Age. We were both entranced by the lucidity of Stone’s feminism–not only by how a book that was so far-reaching and bonkers could yet be so prescient and sharp, but by why, as Mimi put it, “someone so interesting would choose to go into academia.” Mimi and I spent many sweaty, mosquito-bitten hours that week, drinking Campari and orange juice, covertly smoking cigarettes and trying to re-enact the conversations between Stone and Donna Haraway, who had been her advisor in the History of Consciousness program at Santa Cruz. Cyborgs, coyotes and transphobic lesbian record collectives–what on earth did they talk about?

And thus was born Dear Sandy, an ad hoc collection of “open letters to feminist icons.” I for one have long been concerned and puzzled by the lack of historicity that seems to trouble much of today’s thinking about feminism and women’s issues. I’m always particularly saddened to see our forerunners in what we refer to as “the second wave” belittled, denounced and asked to bear responsibility for our current morass of gender trouble. Dear Sandy is our tongue-in-cheek attempt to dust off the herstory calendars and lesbo-folk LPs and give our older sisters their due.


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