Published Fall 2006
 
Remembering
Lillian Robinson
Lillian Sara Robinson, feminist scholar, critic, and activist, Professor of Women's Studies, troublemaker and mensch, died on September 20, 2006. She was born April 18, 1941 in New York City. Her father Irving (né Isak) Robinson, a Jewish immigrant from Czernowitz, Bukovina, was a foreman in his uncles' picture frame factory. Her mother, Fannie Robinson, born in New Orleans of a Russian Jewish immigrant family, was the factory bookkeeper. Lillian was the family's third child, after her older sister Frieda and her brother Edward. Lillian's father died when she was only four, and soon afterwards their mother bought a two-family house in Queens, New York, together with her twin sister Jennie Postman and Jennie's husband Ike Postman. During the years that followed, both Postman adults worked at paid labor, while Fannie Robinson kept house and took care of both their daughter Sydelle and her own children. Money was tight, and the two families shared a single apartment. Lillian's experience in what she considered a working-class family sparked her awareness of social class. (Despite her feminist orientation, Lillian recalled, it was only many decades later that she was able to appreciate her mother as having stood in the role of family "wife," whose work in the home enabled others to earn money through outside jobs). Lillian was shaped by her difficult relationship with her mother, whom she regarded as a bitter and self-absorbed widow, and the two were estranged during Lillian's adult years.
Lillian attended Hunter College High School, then an elite all-girl public school, where she developed a fascination for literature and romance languages. (She later noted that her success in Latin competitions particularly pleased her Jewish immigrant grandfather, who regarded it as beating the goyim at their own language!) Upon graduation, she was awarded a scholarship to Brown University, where in 1962 she received a joint A.B./M.A. degree magna cum laude in English. During her years at Brown, Lillian spent a sojourn studying French in Paris at the Sorbonne. Meanwhile, she met Martín López-Morillas (now known as Martin Morell), to whom she would be briefly married. After taking coursework for an M.A. in Art History at New York University, Lillian enrolled as a graduate student in English at Columbia University. She obtained her Ph.D. in Comparative Literature in 1974. Her dissertation was on the figure of the lady knight in Renaissance epics, which compared characters in Virgil, Aretino, Tasso, and Spenser, and which would ultimately appear as the book Monstrous Regiment in 1985.
It was during her years at Brown that Lillian became politically active, most notably in civil rights organizing and as a volunteer for historian H. Stuart Hughes's maverick 1962 candidacy for the U.S. Senate from Massachusetts. (Lillian later noted that it was in the Hughes campaign that she first met future radical leader Abbie Hoffman.) Lillian's development as an activist was decisively influenced by the Black Freedom movement. She attended the famous 1963 March on Washington, and subsequently joined various protests. She hoped to take part in the 1964 Mississippi Freedom Summer. However, she was forced by financial pressure to take a summer job. Lillian later recalled that her husband, whose fellowship paid more than hers because he had her as his dependent, did not have to take summer employment, yet insisted that she take paid work to make up the differential in their incomes. The job she took was at the margins of the movement, teaching Black History and English at Central State College. Lillian later termed her failure to go to Mississippi the biggest disappointment of her life. That fall she entered Columbia, and thereafter joined the New Left group Students for a Democratic Society. As U.S. involvement in the Vietnam War escalated, she organized draft counselling and teach-ins. When student strikes roiled the university (and much of the world) during spring 1968, Lillian joined in, and was arrested and dragged off when the police stormed the campus. Her experiences, she later said, taught her the value of struggle. It was the movement, she insisted, that ultimately succeeded in ending the Vietnam War. Later, she would identify strongly with the anti- Apartheid movement, and point to South Africa's achievement of a multiracial state as another demonstration of the triumph of a progressive movement.
Beginning in the late 1960s, Lillian threw herself into the developing women's movement. Although she took part in demonstrations, joined self-defense groups, and worked for abortion rights, she brought her activism most notably to her chosen field of literature. Her objective was to use feminist analysis as a tool for political change. As she stated shortly afterwards in a much-quoted comment, "I am not terribly interested in whether feminism becomes a respectable part of academic criticism; I am very much concerned that feminist critics become a useful part of the women's movement." She began theorizing the relationship between class and gender politics. In 1969 she wrote her first piece. Needing a writing sample for a job application, she rapidly spun out an essay on Virginia Woolf, entitled "Who's Afraid of a Room of One's Own?" It appeared in print in 1972, in Paul Lauter and Louis Kampf's pioneering anthology, The Politics of Literature. Lillian claimed, with pardonable pride, that she had "invented the field" of Marxist feminist criticism. In the following years, Lillian wrote numerous essays on feminism and literature, work and popular culture, some of which appeared in journals such as College English, and all of which were collected in her anthology Sex, Class, and Culture (1978). Lillian's poems were collected in a chapbook, "Robinson on the Woman Question" (1975), and appeared in other collections.
In fall 1969, Lillian was hired by Massachusetts Institute of Technology as an Instructor in Humanities. There she gave some of the first courses in Women's Studies. Three years later, she moved to SUNY Buffalo as Assistant Professor of Women's Studies in the college's American Studies program. She remained at Buffalo for five years, and was awarded tenure there. A multidisciplinary study of research methodology that she compiled in collaboration with four SUNY Buffalo colleagues was published as Feminist Scholarship: Kindling in the Groves of Academe (1985). During her years in Boston and Buffalo, she remained engaged both in feminist politics and in other progressive movements, including the American Indian Movement and the Attica prisoners strike. In later years, she occasionally spoke of being questioned by the FBI.
In 1970, while at MIT, Lillian met an undergraduate, David Gilden, who would become her life partner for twenty years. Although Lillian was a principled advocate of non-monogamy, taking as a model Simone de Beauvoir's open relationship with Jean-Paul Sartre, David Gilden was her treasured comrade and playmate. The couple had one child, Isak Robinson-Gilden (now known as Alex), for whom Lillian reserved her tenderest devotion, and who remained the most important person in her life. Through her relationship with David Gilden, son of the proletarian novelists Katya and Bert Gilden of Hurry Sundown fame, Lillian formed a durable bond with Katya Gilden and championed the Gildens' work.
In 1980, Lillian made a fateful move. After spending a two-year term in France teaching American Studies as a full Professor at the University of Paris's Institut Charles V, which she found an enormously enriching experience, she decided to give up her tenured position at Buffalo and seek a better job. She always said that, coming to the academy in the boom years of the 1960s, she assumed she would always be able to find some job in her field. However, in a time of cutbacks in higher education and an increasingly conservative political climate, she was unable to secure a position, and she remained "in the academic wilderness," as she put it, for a decade and a half. During these years, she alternated between a series of short-term senior positions, including endowed chairs at Albright College, San Diego State University, the University of Hawaii and Scripps College; temporary posts at University of Texas and Virginia Tech; such non-academic work as court interpreting or editing manuscripts; and unemployment. Lillian continued to apply for jobs in English or Women's Studies, and a more or less yearly pattern established itself. She would travel to campus for an interview, give her job talk, connect with sympathetic faculty and students, receive warm praise—and then somehow, always, not be chosen for the job. Her frustration increased as time went on and as her reputation and output grew. It became painfully (or embarrassingly) clear that she was the best-qualified candidate for all the positions she was not winning. Part of the problem was that Lillian was intimidating. She was extremely bright and articulate, and did not suffer fools gladly. She could react brusquely when she disagreed with something, and even friends and family could feel taken aback by her harshness. However, if she could be her own worst enemy, she also did not lack for others, who deplored her Marxist politics and ardent feminism. ("Tenured radicals?" Lillian would sniff. "I can't even get a job!")
During the 1980s, Lillian remained based in San Francisco, sometimes commuting to academic positions or outside lectures. There she lived in a cooperative apartment in St. Francis Square, an interracial development financed by the International Longshore Workers Union. Lillian became especially close to the writer and feminist Tillie Olsen, who lived with her husband in the same complex. Lillian worked hard to scratch out a living from writing and day jobs to support her family. She continued to write and perform poetry, and also fed her delight in popular fiction by writing a mystery novel, which was ultimately published in revised form as Murder Most Puzzling (1998). She expanded her interest in political organizing and protest, most notably as a Jewish critic of Zionism, the Israeli occupation of Palestinian territories, and the invasion of Lebanon. She also protested the Chinese government repression of the Tienanmen Square protesters in 1989.
Despite her shadowy academic status, Lillian remained a well-recognized critic whose work appeared regularly in The Nation and The Women's Review of Books. In academically-published essays such as the 1983 "Treason Our Text," her most- cited work, she distinguished herself as a feminist critic of the literary canon of commonly-studied texts, which she argued represented only a limited and elitist point of view. She favored multiculturalism as a tool of cultural democracy, and deplored right-wing attempts to silence dissenting views by terming them "politically incorrect." (She could not understand, she said, how it was worse to call someone a racist than to be one!) Her wide-ranging essays and book reviews on cultural studies and on the 1980s "culture wars" would be collected in the second anthology of her work, In the Canon's Mouth (1997). Meanwhile, mixing scholarly interest with economic need, she took on the compilation and editing of a four-volume anthology of criticism, Modern Women Writers (1995). She continued to attend academic conferences, and was a sought- after lecturer—her lecture tours eased her financial burden and exposed her to various audiences. Following a lecture trip to Thailand in 1993 on behalf of the United States Information Service, Lillian developed a strong interest in the question of international sex tourism and government dependence on women's sex work as an economic development tool. Lillian joined forces with a collaborator, Ryan Bishop, and the two produced an article on the subject for The Nation, which grew into their book, Night Market: Sexual Cultures and the Thai Economic Miracle (1998). In 1989-90, Lillian separated from David Gilden. The collapse of her relationship, coupled with economic hardship, triggered a serious depression, which she battled over several years. During this period, Lillian was forced to uproot herself repeatedly and migrate to jobs in different cities. She formed a close-knit non-traditional household with a gay male friend, Douglas Michael Massing, who helped her raise her son. In addition to her teaching, writing, and parenting duties, she worked as an amateur actress. She remained politically aware. When a local public library received pressure from conservative parents to remove gay and lesbian-themed material, Lillian spoke out strongly at a community meeting about the perils of censorship, and her wish for her son to learn "love language" about homosexuality to counteract the "hate language" he heard in school and outside. In 1995, Lillian's long drought from regular academic work ended when she was hired for a position as Professor of English at East Carolina University in Greenville, North Carolina. She enjoyed her students, who marvelled at the eminent guest speakers and public attention her presence on campus drew, and she formed loving relationships with a circle of colleagues. However, she attracted opposition by more conservative colleagues, and was nearly refused tenure. Living alone in the rural South, she felt isolated, both politically and personally, the more so as her poor vision made it impossible for her to drive, so she was dependent on walking or rides for transportation.
In 2000, Lillian was named Principal of the Simone de Beauvoir Institute, the Women's Studies college at Concordia University in Montréal. She stated many times that the job at the Institute, the oldest Women's Studies program in Canada, was a dream position for her (both as a feminist and admirer of Beauvoir). Under her tenure, the Institute, which had been threatened with abolition, attracted significantly higher enrolment and student interest, and became a forum for diverse community voices. Lillian became an outspoken voice on campus, both as an advocate for women and in defence of student organizing, especially around the Israel-Palestine issue. Off campus, she helped found the Jewish Alliance Against the Occupation, which held weekly vigils at the Israeli consulate. She was a frequent commentator on women's issues in local media, both English and French.
Lillian was a stimulating teacher and lecturer. She enjoyed making her points with humor, and pushed her students to make connections between their subjects and real world issues. In discussing globalization, for instance, she would tell her students to examine the tags on their clothing to trace its origins. Although restricted in her research time by teaching and administrative responsibilities, plus various health problems, Lillian maintained an active publication schedule. Most notably, while in Montréal she produced her final book, Wonder Women (2004), a critical study of female superheroes. She recounted how the "idiosyncratic but authentic" feminism behind the creation of her childhood heroine Wonder Woman subsequently became diluted and suppressed, then reinvented in a postmodern era. She simultaneously undertook a massive study of mythologies of interracial rape.
Lillian thrived in the cosmopolitan culture and politically contested terrain of Montréal. It was during these years that I knew Lillian best. I grew up on tales of my extraordinary, irrepressible aunt, but only saw her on scattered visits. During my first college years she lived fairly close by, and I visited her several times. After that, we were again separated, but forged a close bond through weekly long-distance calls. Lillian's loquacity, especially over the telephone, was legendary—friends considered themselves lucky if they could get through a call with her in thirty minutes. Nevertheless, beyond her virtuoso conversation, she could be a sympathetic listener and confidant. I helped her with research and errands, and offered emotional support. During my graduate school years, Lillian organized my first public lecture, and we occasionally attended conferences together. I received my Ph.D. just as Lillian moved to Montréal. Soon after, she learned of an opening in history at UQAM, encouraged me to apply, and cheered when I won the job.
I stayed at Lillian's house my first months in Montréal. Even after I left, I took a nearby apartment. It was a period of sometimes painful adjustments. We huddled together on the dreadful morning of 9/11, then comforted each other anew as four family members died over the following year. Her mother's death powerfully shook Lillian, as it finally extinguished any chance at reconciliation. Even harder was the passing soon after of my adored mother Toni, whom Lillian had loved and admired as a sister. There were happy times too: Lillian threw a grand party to celebrate publication of my first book, while I organized friends to finance a scholarship in her name at Concordia as a sixtieth birthday present. After my partner moved to Montréal and we decided to get married, Lillian served as witness at our civil union. We shared countless fine meals in the city's restaurants, or ordered take-out and sat around and talked.
We formed a powerful team: the Robinson family in exile. Although Lillian was not a parental figure to me, and she had her own son, I was in a sense her intellectual heir. She was proud that I shared her profession and many of her intellectual and political concerns. We gossiped and advised each other on work questions, bragged over our successes, attended each others' talks, and read each other's manuscripts. (I once put Lillian on a student's M.A. committee, and wanted to strangle her when she submitted a harsh evaluation!) We shared housing, and sometimes panels, at conferences. Last spring we wrote a paper together—our first and last scholarly collaboration. I cared for her during her illnesses, and accompanied her on visits to doctors.
In Spring 2003, Lillian learned that she had ovarian cancer. Following a course of surgery and chemotherapy, she returned to work, and she remained active through a brief recurrence in mid-2005. She and her doctors all thought that she had beaten the cancer. In June 2006, however, she developed a gastrointestinal disturbance which soon revealed itself to be a recurrence. Although she bravely restarted chemotherapy, the cancer ultimately overcame her.
Lillian will be greatly missed. Countless people have told me they treasure her memory and example. Although Lillian's burial was not publicly announced, word of mouth spread overnight, and fifty people—none of whom had even met Lillian before she moved to Montréal—congregated to pay their respects. The event underlined the loss felt by so many outside Lillian's family and close friends.
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