Grace and Lace Letter was a newsletter by and for transfeminine evangelicals in the 1990s. This article explores the rhetorical approaches contributors used to bridge these seemingly contradictory identities. Through a recontextualization and historicization of Biblical passages and an employment of a "created this way" discourse, these contributors created possibilities for an evangelical transfeminine identity and advocated for trans acceptance within their evangelical communities. However, these strategies also reveal complicity with other marginalizing discourses. Thus, this article considers the rhetorical processes through which transgender religious identities are constructed and the limitations of such approaches.

AbstractThis essay rhetorically analyzes stories about domestic gun violence from Everytown for Gun Safety’s website, “Moments That Survive.” These everyday writers challenge America’s dominant narrative of protection, offering a counternarrative of protection by asking readers to reimagine the perpetrators of gun violence, guns themselves, and moments of gun violence. Extending previous rhetorical scholarship, I demonstrate how and why “imagination” is an essential concept for rhetorical scholars seeking to understand gun violence rhetorics and advocates seeking to change them. Notes1 For their feedback on various stages of this project, thanks to Laura Michael Brown, Lesley Erin Bartlett, Anne Kretsinger-Harries, and Lori Peterson. Thanks as well to Rhetoric Review editor, Elise Hurley, and the reviewers, CitationJenny Andrus and a second reviewer who remains anonymous. I presented portions of this essay for a lecture at the College of Holy Cross’s McFarland Center for Religion, Ethics and Culture; thanks to Tom Landy for the invitation and the attendees for their feedback.2 For instance, gun suicides account for over half of all gun-related deaths each year (CitationSilver).3 This percentage is likely higher because it excludes the 48.9% of cases in which “the relationship between murder victims and offenders was unknown” by investigators. Only 9.9% of people were killed by confirmed strangers.4 Although I use “story” and “narrative” interchangeably in this essay, I acknowledge that literary scholars and sociologists, among others, have debated whether these terms mean different things. I use the term “counternarrative” here to indicate how narratives and stories can challenge one another. Counterstories, by contrast, are stories that “subscribe to CRT’s [Critical Race Theory] tenets, particularly in their critique of a dominant ideology (liberalism, whiteness, color blindness) and their sustained focus on social justice as an objective” (CitationMartinez 17). The “Moments That Survive” stories’ critique of dominant ideologies is at best implicit.5 For historical examples in rhetoric, see works by Aristotle and Quintilian (CitationKennerly). Beyond rhetoric, imagination has been usefully theorized by psychoanalysts and by social and political theorists, including postcolonialist, feminist, and queer theorists.6 My description of the “Moments That Survive” website borrows heavily from my earlier essay on stories about gun suicide (CitationRood, “Protection”).7 I have described how domestic violence is operationalized within these stories, but I want to acknowledge that there is disagreement over definitions (CitationSnyder 17). For instance, according to The National Council Against Domestic Violence, “[d]omestic violence is the willful intimidation, physical assault, battery, sexual assault, and/or other abusive behavior as part of a systematic pattern of power and control perpetrated by one intimate partner against another” (“What”). Although their definition is expansive in several ways, it seems to exclude violence committed by family members and former partners.8 The FBI’s 2019 data show that 482 wives and 505 girlfriends were killed by their partner, whereas 85 husbands and 187 boyfriends were killed by their partner. Yet these data have several limitations. First, there is no space for nonbinary folks. Second, a “wife” or “husband” is presumed to be in a heterosexual relationship. A note at the bottom of the FBI’s chart reveals that “the category of acquaintance includes homosexual relationships and the composite category for other known to victim.”9 The labels “us” and “them” can be slippery. The dominant narrative of protection often assumes and perpetuates cultural biases (such as racism) so that “us” means white people and “them” means people of color. But depending on who is speaking, listeners might imagine themselves—or hear themselves being imagined—as an “us” or a “them.” For instance, even though the NRA’s account of protection regularly relies on racist appeals, a person of color might nonetheless hear themselves as an “us” rather than a “them.”In their counternarrative of protection, the “Moments That Survive” writers urge readers to consider danger not just from “them” but also from “us.” Depending on the context, “us” seems to refer to “(a) ourselves and our loved ones, (b) the exclusionary “us” common in gun rights advocacy (e.g., white men), and (c) a capacious account of “us” that includes people historically cast as literal or metaphoric outsiders” (CitationRood, “Protection” 35).10 I do not focus here on depictions of people subject to abuse, but CitationDonileen R. Loseke highlights how women subject to abuse—and organizations seeking to support them—face pressure to portray “morally pure victims” to garner sympathy and support even though such depictions are exclusionary, unrealistic, constraining, and ultimately beside the point—the problem is with the abuser, not the abused (679).11 CitationCaroline E. Light and CitationAngela Stroud thoroughly critique “stand-your-ground” laws and explain why the underlying appeal to self-defense is not available to everyone, particularly people who are not white men.12 Jennifer Andrus illustrates why these different accounts of agency matter. Police tend to assume that the abused have unrestricted agency (they can just leave) or nonagency (they will inevitably return to their abuser). Consequently, police are often ill prepared to understand let alone help the victims/survivors that they are called upon to protect.13 Paige L. Sweet traces how therapy has come to be the primary way of supporting women subject to abuse—or at least an obstacle to receiving other forms of support. While therapy can be useful, it might also suggest that blame lies within women (rather than the men who abused them). Many women desperately need other forms of support (money, housing, food, and so forth), but therapy nonetheless became politically popular because it was seen as distinct from welfare.Additional informationNotes on contributorsCraig RoodCraig Rood is an associate professor in the Department of English at Iowa State University. He is the author of After Gun Violence: Deliberation and Memory in an Age of Political Gridlock (Penn State UP, 2019).

AbstractEquitable access to fertility care remains precarious and often dependent upon definitional rhetoric of infertility, which insurance policies and state legislators use to determine access to alternative family building options. This article builds upon prior rhetorical scholarship on infertility by applying an embodied rhetorics framework to capture the resilience infertile persons exhibit when faced with barriers to build their family. To do this, I share a series of texts self-identified infertile advocates produced as they reflected on their encounters with barriers to accessing care and building their families. As a disease that requires self-disclosure as a form of advocacy, I analyze the visual and written texts produced through an embodied rhetorics framework. These texts are forms of public advocacy in that they make visible the multiple embodied misconceptions infertile persons navigate when trying to build one’s family. I discuss these texts as illustrating “misconception fatigue” which is affective toll that accumulates when advocating for one’s reproductive right to have a family. I conclude by encouraging other rhetorical scholars committed to reproductive justice to adopt an embodied rhetorics framework to their scholarship and develop participatory research projects to support the advocacy needs of marginalized reproductive health communities. Notes1 I would like to express thanks to Megan Faver Hartline, Katie Manthey, and Phil Bratta who took time to read this article and provide generous feedback. A heartfelt thank you to RR reviewers Michelle Eble and the two other blind reviewers who took time to engage with the ideas of this piece and construct helpful reviews. Finally, additional gratitude must also be extended to the infertility advocates who decided to participate in this photovoice project and make visible vulnerable moments in their infertility journeys.2 One IVF cycle is defined as ovarian stimulation, egg retrieval and embryo transfer. The cost of those procedures varies by the individual’s insurance coverage, provider, and medication needs. Hence, the range of costs. See Marissa Conrad’s article “How Much Does IVF Cost?” Forbes Health, 28 Sept. 2021.3 RESOLVE: The National Infertility Association offers the most accurate reporting of state-by-state insurance coverage for fertility treatment. For instance, the organization offers up-to-date data on insurance coverage per state on their website under the page “Insurance Coverage by State.”4 The ACA does not cover fertility related treatments as reported by health insurance reporter Louise Norris.5 Alternative family building refers to other methods of conception and/or accessing options such as adoption or surrogacy to have a family. Alternative family building options may be needed for heterosexual couples experiencing infertility but also include queer couples and single parents by choice.6 The Institute for Women’s Policy Research defines reproductive rights as “having the ability to decide whether and when to have children” (n.p.). This definition asserts that there is a fundamental right to have a family/child, if one so desires. This assertion is also supported in a reproductive justice framework which includes the right to a family as one of its three tenets.7 The World Health Organization defines infertility as “a disease of the male or female reproductive system defined by the failure to achieve a pregnancy after 12 months or more of regular.” The American Society for Reproductive Medicine defines infertility as “the result of a disease (an interruption, cessation, or disorder of body functions, systems, or organs) of the male or female reproductive tract which prevents the conception of a child or the ability to carry a pregnancy to delivery.”8 To be clear, I am not suggesting embodied identity and embodied rhetoric as interchangeable terms. Rather, my use of embodied identity is informed from how Knoblauch and Moeller define “embodiment”. For them, “embodiment is more than ‘simply’ the experience of being with a body but is instead the experience of orienting one’s body in space and among others…the result of objects and being acting with and upon each other” (8). Embodied identity, in the context of infertility, is the meaning-making of coming to learn/see oneself as infertile. Embodied rhetoric, however, examines the potential actions and production of knowledge that is exerted because one sees identifies as infertile.9 Advocacy Day is an event coordinated by RESOLVE: The National Infertility Association where the infertility community talks to Members of Congress about increasing family building options and access to care (“Advocacy Day,” RESOLVE: The National Infertility Association, 2022).10 All photovoice submissions analyzed for this article are included in the appendix.11 I would like to note the distinctions between reproductive health, reproductive rights, and reproductive justice to be accountable to the individual histories of each term: reproductive health, reproductive rights, and reproductive justice. My use of the term ‘right to have a family’ is informed from Loretta Ross and Rickie Solinger’s definition of reproductive justice that asserts “reproductive justice goes beyond the pro-choice/pro-life debate and has three primary principles: (1) the right to have a child; (2) the right now to have a child; and (3) the right to parent the children we have [in safe communities and conditions]” (9). When I use the term the ‘right to have a family’ it is drawing upon these three tenets central to reproductive justice and acknowledges the history in advocating for the reproductive experiences of women of color and other multiply marginalized individuals.12 It should be noted that other infertility stakeholders have more recently adopted a reproductive justice approach to discussions of infertility. For instance, the March 2023 publication of Fertility and Sterility focused explicitly on moving beyond recognizing the racial and ethnic disparities in women’s reproductive health and have pushed for more action-oriented approaches that seek to align with the reproductive justice movement.13 By collective fatigue, I refer to the multiple experiences of fatigue represented the photovoice submissions. These include financial, emotional, and even physical fatigue. Collectively, they produce the experience of misconception fatigue.14 The toll of various treatments, doctor appointments, and time devoted to attempting to become pregnant can physically impact an infertile person and contribute to fatigue.15 A 2020 Forbes article written by Pragya Agarwal documents the retaliation some women in the workforce face when actively attempting to become a parent and how discrimination is heightened for women who need assisted reproductive technology to become pregnant.Additional informationNotes on contributorsMaria NovotnyMaria Novotny is an Assistant Professor of English at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. Her research considers how reproductive health patients advocate for health care through her collaborations with The ART of Infertility. Her co-edited collection Infertilities, A Curation portrays the myriad voices and perspectives of individuals who experience infertility and difficulty in family building using art and writing as mediums for personal expression. Other scholarship related to the intersections of infertility, rhetoric, and advocacy has been published in Community Literacy Journal, Peitho, and Technical Communication Quarterly.

“Bio warfare” describes a digital rhetorical tactic used by teen climate activist Greta Thunberg to challenge oppressive anger norms and assert a feminist paradigm that sees sometimes-angry teen girl activists as credible, rational rhetors. On the surface, the rhetorical strategy is simple: Thunberg copy/pastes world leaders’ disparaging language into her 160-character Twitter bio. Yet, in these seemingly simple Twitter bio updates, Thunberg recontextualizes conservative leaders’ language into her own Twitter profile, inverting their meaning to assert an opposing ideology: that teen girls’ anger can be wise.

This paper examines Aeschines’s speech Against Timarchus to offer frameworks for rhetoric to examine the historical particularities of sex work. Drawing on feminist and queer rhetorics, this paper rereads Against Timarchus as well as scholarly receptions of the speech to discuss how Timarchus has been positioned outside definitions of rhetoric in ways that highlight the instability of definitions of rhetoric and state power. This paper argues that kakos and atimia are useful concepts for rhetorical historiographers for examining sex work in classical Athens, as well as interrogating the power structures upon which a given definition of rhetoric is derived from.

This article argues for the importance of British food writer Elizabeth David (1913-1992) in questioning the centrality of power in feminist rhetorical studies and thereby furthering our capacity to understand the diversity of conservative women and their rhetorical projects. The article analyzes David's pathos in her landmark volume of gastronomical essays, An Omelette and a Glass of Wine (1986), and shows how this rhetoric develops a conservative "political culture" which privileges human motivations within food cultures that move beyond the negotiation of power.

Musicologists question whether 1960s girl group music is “fluff or an incubator for radical ferment,” and fans question what to do with the music’s sexism, heteronormativity, and racism (McClary and Warwick 232). This article argues that 1960s girl group songs have much to teach us about a spectrum of agencies available within cultural scripts of the 1960s U.S. teen romance myth as represented in music. It also argues that being ever-attentive-in-order-to-interrupt is a feminist tactic for understanding and dealing with these songs as well as their contemporary traces within #MeToo moments.

This essay demonstrates how a progressive era Radcliffe College student (1910-1914) who earned the title “strongest woman” for her athletic feats used the unique genre affordances of the scrapbook to assert an identity that at once aligned with and contradicted dominant rhetoric about women’s bodies and education. Drawing on archived personal artifacts, the essay argues that Eleanor Stabler Brooks used this vernacular, multigenre, multivocal genre in a way that amplifies the material and the visceral through a process of bricolage, composing an embodied response to the social and institutional restrictions on her body at a time when gender values were radically destabilizing.

Centering the author’s experience of representing migrant deaths through non-discursive composing practices, this article forwards quilting as a feminist, qualitative research method. The author promotes quilting as method, grounded in arts based research and feminist rhetorical practices, a method that functions as a three-part scaffold in practice: employing critical imagination through tacking in and tacking out, crafting a narrative, and gaining a better understanding of the phenomenon at hand. This tactile method has the potential to expand conceptions of research, embrace the messiness of research, and deepen understandings of phenomena shallowly understood by other methods.

TABS: Aids for Ending Sexism in School was a journal founded by Lucy Picco Simpson and the Organization for Equal Education of the Sexes. Attention to this publication sheds light on feminist activism as it transformed in the wake of Title IX legislation in the late 1970s and 1980s. In examining the journal’s ability to facilitate networking, production, and accountability, we gain greater insight into how teachers and students were able to question normative messages about race, gender, class, and ability in educational materials and diversify the range of historical figures discussed in schools.

Sor Juana, a criolla nun in Mexico’s colonial period, is most recognized for her letter, “La Respuesta” (or “The Response”), to the Bishop of Puebla where she fiercely championed women’s rights in the Americas. However, few discursive spaces take up critical examinations of her work. As such, she is often inscribed within the remnants of White, European intellectual legacies. But what if there was more? Sor Juana’s epistolary writing is a rich site of revisionary possibilities, especially as feminist archival methodology flourishes in rhetoric and composition. This article aims to complicate discussions of Sor Juana as a (proto)feminist rhetorician by including interdisciplinary and intersectional renderings of her embodied, epistolary writing. Drawing on Black feminist rhetorics, I argue that we can discursively (re)read Sor Juana not just as a rhetorician but as an intersectional, cultural, and feminist rhetorician.

This article examines the rhetorical framing of San Jose’s “Winchester Mystery House” house tour to consider the role of spatiality in shaping the ethos and subsequent public remembrance of women. Built in the late nineteenth-century by the heiress to the Winchester Rifle Company fortune, the sprawling Victorian mansion is now a popular tourist attraction that has become a metonym for the architect herself, whose memory remains shrouded in stories of séances, seclusion, and mystery. The article traces the image of Winchester as a bizarre and spooky widow to the public tour and the spatial rhetorics of her house itself. The house challenges our limited notions of space—particularly domestic space—with implications for other sites of women’s public memory and the ethos of the woman rhetor.

In 1919 Charlotte Hawkins Brown, founder of the Palmer Memorial Institute, wrote the novella, Mammy: An Appeal to the Heart of the South as a persuasive appeal to white Southern women in Greensboro, North Carolina. This essay takes an intersectional approach to argue Brown rhetorically appropriates the mammy trope within a combination of slave narrative and Southern romantic novella addressing white female Southerner’s responsibility to their Black counterparts. The result is a novella providing evidence of Brown’s conscious use of African American Southern identity disrupting white Southern moral superiority.

This article examines the 1893 lynching and suffrage rivalry between Ida B. Wells and Frances E. Willard in the WCTU and the racial tension generated between its Black and white members on sisterhood. It uses rhetorical analysis and frame theory to illustrate that Wells’s and Willard’s rhetorical conflict is disturbingly related to the present. Finally, the article argues that patriarchy is a resilient specter that haunts womanhood.

Lula Pace (1868–1925), a Texas Baptist science professor, ultimately weathered an antievolution campaign that roiled her denomination. Responding to this controversy, Pace engaged in demarcation (that is, discursive boundary-work) regarding the relationship of science and religion. Pace employed ethos strategies that blended the scientist’s supposedly gender-neutral expertise, the engaged educator’s concern for students, and the sincere Christian’s exercise of those individual freedoms privileged in Baptist tradition. This blended ethos highlights how scientific expertise and religious identity may serve as resources for developing a personal rhetoric to negotiate diverse community values and how ethos strategies depend upon demarcation.

Jewish rhetorics recently garnered critical attention in rhetoric studies, resulting in extensive scholarship attempting to carve out the field’s jurisdiction. Jewish feminist rhetoricians, for example, often use Jewish rhetorics to reclaim women’s religious experiences. But recovering the secular voices of Jewish women is also essential to understanding Jewish rhetorics, evinced by an anonymous group of nineteenth century women. These women use secular Jewish topoi—exile, tzedek (justice), and zikaron (memory)—to articulate their identity as American Jewish women, demonstrating both Jewish rhetorics’ potential as a cultural rhetoric and topoi’s ability to empower marginalized communities through exclusionary practices.

Scholarship on the rhetoric of reproduction, childbirth, and motherhood has mostly focused on a U.S. context. Drawing on oral histories that we collected from a small group of Estonian women who gave birth during the Soviet occupation of Estonia, we argue that women’s experiences of childbirth in Soviet maternity hospitals and during the postpartum period can be interpreted as micro-rhetorical interactions through which arguments about the worth or value of a particular identity are communicated implicitly and intangibly. The gendered nature of these micro-rhetorical interactions helps to explain the often observed-upon gap between the official Soviet rhetoric of gender equality and the persistently patriarchal nature of Soviet society. Ultimately, we argue that examining the rhetoric of pregnancy and childbirth in an authoritarian political context also necessitates rethinking the functions of and possibilities for rhetorical agency.

Throughout Rhetorical Feminism and This Thing Called Hope, Cheryl Glenn is attuned to her positionality and reminds readers why it has become standard and important to “announce one’s standpoint” (...

In their seminal text, Feminist Rhetorical Practices: New Horizons for Rhetoric, Composition, and Literacy Studies (Southern Illinois University Press, 2012), Jacqueline Jones Royster and Gesa E. K...

This article engages archival and oral history research to explore the documentation practices of Gays and Lesbians United for Equality (GLUE), a lesbian and gay organization active in Louisville during the 1980s and 1990s, and their effects on the production of an LGBTQ archive by local activist David Williams. I demonstrate one way of considering the rhetoricity of archives by attending to the situated rhetorical production of materials that comprise them, exploring the relationships between GLUE’s motivated production of organizational documents and the material made available to Williams’s archive. Organizationally, GLUE could not directly engage in explicitly political activity, leading to rhetorical decisions about what to include in organizational documents. These rhetorical performances, as circulated in GLUE’s documents, reflect complicated rhetorical strategies of what Jose Estéban Muñoz calls disidentification with politics.

The #MeToo movement unveiled a shifting testimonial landscape available to victims of sexual assault, one that was able to apprehend the attention of vast public audiences unlike other protests before it. Through an analysis of published #MeToo tweets and public discussion of them, this essay argues that what happened during #MeToo reveals a feminist deployment of megethos. Theorizing what I term feminist megethos through the lens of listing extends theories of magnitude beyond the idea of cultivating coherence or amounting excessive detail, toward a theory that captures how megethos can puncture pervasive yet normalized attitudes that constrain efforts for justice.

Building on the scholarship of Nedra Reynolds, Dale Sullivan, and recent feminist scholars writing on ethos, this article argues that blame is a vehicle that rhetors can use to enhance their ēthē. Specifically, this article shows that blame can modify social mores when used by an ethically strong rhetor who censures another individual with a strong ethos. To make this argument, this article considers the rhetoric of a nineteenth-century French-American Catholic Sister living at the intersection of various worlds, as the article illustrates how she, when challenged by an American bishop, used a rhetoric of blame to further enhance her ethos.

Historians of rhetoric have recently explored how nineteenth-century women’s personal and romantic letters have offered a venue for the rhetorical work of raising consciousness, building coalitions, and contesting gender norms. This essay examines the work undertaken by Lucy Stone and Henry Blackwell in their courtship correspondence. Drawing on a body of manuscript letters exchanged between 1853 and 1855 and a selection of nineteenth-century letter-writing manuals, the essay argues that the couple uses their letters to: explore their views on rhetoric; contest the genre and gender conventions being taught by manuals; and engender the possibility of forming a rhetorical alliance.

During the 1880s, the Knights of Labor united most workers regardless of craft or trade. They also organized African American workers and women. This essay uncovers how the Knights maintained unity by analyzing speeches given at their annual conventions from 1885-1890. Leaders defined male Knights as chivalric, self-sacrificing, and battle-tested. After identifying the elements of the rhetoric of knighthood, I then explain how the rhetoric offered only ironic inclusion to white women and excluded Chinese and Eastern European immigrants. This argument builds rhetorical scholarship on inclusion and exclusion in social movements by theorizing its partial and ironic modes.

Ada Metcalf’s 1876 memoir, Lunatic Asylums and How I Became an Inmate of One, is an early feminist articulation of embodied experience and agency. In this article, I develop a socially situated understanding of this memoir’s historical significance through the layering of four types of data onto the archival material: bureaucratic records, genealogical tracing, intertextual tracing, and field observations. I describe each of these forms of data and their contributions to understanding the significance of Ada’s taking back agency over her body through her public argument for women’s control over their own bodies.

This essay draws our attention to the rhetorics of everyday queer people by routing queer notions of embodiment through queer and feminist work on rhetorical silence. I argue that the queer body engages speech and silence simultaneously, troubling any binary division between the two rhetorical forms. I call for, instead, a continuum model of rhetorical silence that ties together verbal silence with other forms of rhetorical action such as material silence, visual silence, and embodied silence. To show how the continuum model functions, I offer an analysis of Grindr profiles. The social networking app—marketed primarily toward gay and bisexual men—serves as an example for how rhetorical silence is adapted and deployed by queer people. Exploring these profiles allows us to consider the rhetorical action of people who may not live openly queer, those whose claim to queerness is limited to a pixelated square inch of pectoral flesh.

In her position as both teacher and administrator in the late nineteenth century, Mary Church Terrell navigated the racism and sexism of an increasingly bureaucratic educational landscape to emerge as a powerful, activist voice for children. Through a closer look at the strategies she and others used to advocate for social uplift via children and the home, we can continue to uncover the uneven rhetorical terrain black women navigated as they advocated for youth within an environment that constructed black children as outside of normative conceptions of childhood.

This essay draws on letters, bulletins, photographs, and newspaper articles to give an account of the Hull House Settlement in Chicago in the 1890s and examines the rhetoric it engendered. The space of Hull House, I argue, communicated its founders’ Jane Addams’s and Ellen Gates Starr’s femininity, wealth, and knowledge of the wider world. Through an extended example of a garment workers’ labor meeting that took place in Hull House, I show how Hull House’s cosmopolitan aesthetic offered women and men from varying class, ethnic, and national backgrounds rhetorical resources for constructing ethos, and also provided constraints to communicating across differences.

Analyzing digital texts created by the activist group the National Immigrant Youth Alliance, this article demonstrates how in some im/migrant activism, the nation is imagined as a familial home so that im/migrants framed as members of the heteropatriarchal family can argue for belonging. Although seemingly persuasive, such rhetoric reproduces the moralizing agenda of neoliberal ideology in terms of heteronormative family values. While im/migrant activism challenges the exclusion of undocumented im/migrants from the U.S. national imaginary, arguments based on family and home can also reproduce heteropatriarchal discourses that rationalize im/migrant discrimination at the intersections of race, gender, and sex.

During the Vietnam era, the military recruited women by appropriating feminist language and simultaneously employing depictions of traditionally conservative feminine ideals. Using a rhetoric of circumlocution to yoke together these two contradictory images, military recruitment rhetoric ultimately reinstated women’s subordinate status.

In 2012 The New York Times’s “Ethicist” column hosted a public writing contest, asking participants to defend eating meat. The contest sparked controversy due to its panel of judges—all white men. Analyzing this case study and the debate it catalyzed—a dynamic conversation about the problem of yoking animal ethics expertise to white masculine authority—issues calls for a feminist food rhetoric. Applying such an analytical lens illustrates both who may address food with authority and how such power is cultivated from gender stereotypes.

Although Alan Turing has been cast as a thinker who separates mind and body, this article approaches his technical writing anew through the theoretical lenses of embodied rhetoric and queer rhetoric. Alan Turing’s technical and theoretical writings are shown to be lively with embodied, gendering, and queer rhetoric. This article also argues that queer, embodied experiences ground Turing’s contributions toward early digital computation. Turing’s rhetoric resists norms in technical communication that expect stable and complete knowledge. Instead, Turing is an outlier who reminds us that queer, embodied rhetorics can complicate and expand our understanding of technical and scientific communication.

Women first entered East Coast fire departments through forming ladies auxiliary groups, where women provided critical support services—offering assistance at the fire, holding fundraising events for the department, and building community relationships—while maintaining conventional gender roles. Exploring auxiliary work through the lens of collaboration reveals feminist strategies for creating ethos in a highly gendered workplace; this approach for studying the complexities of women’s movement between background and foreground roles opens new avenues for considering women’s navigation of rhetorical barriers in professional spaces.

The recently diagnosed “broadening imperative” in revisionary historiography is of special concern to feminist historians, for whom critique of traditional methodological presuppositions has been central to the feminist revisionary project. By examining the performative and figurative elements of feminist historiographical discourse, feminist historians and historiographers can both identify sites of feminist rhetorical resistance to traditional presuppositions, and gain an understanding of how feminist revisionary methodologies have been re-assimilated into traditional methodological and rhetorical paradigms.

This essay uses Michael McGee’s concept of the ideograph to discuss the ways that <motherhood>was used both by and against women in World War I. Regardless of whether women sided with the peace or the preparedness movements, their participation was defined by their status as mothers (either actual or metaphorical). Their participation was also conscribed by societal and governmental ideals of motherhood, conveyed through a shifting ideographic definition. Women’s rhetorical practices during the war were, therefore, both constrained and defined by notions of motherhood.

Sylvia Rivera is a critical figure in queer and activist rhetorical history. At the Christopher Street Liberation Day Rally in 1973, Rivera engaged in parrhesia to push the movement to include and amplify the voices and needs of the most vulnerable members of the gay community: drag queens, homeless youth, gay inmates in prison and jail, and transgender people. Her delivery, including voice, gesture, and interaction with the audience, emphasizes the truthfulness, frankness, and criticism of her truth. By analyzing Rivera’s delivery of parrhesia, this article draws attention to the body’s role in speaking the truth as an activist rhetorical act.

Rethinking Ethos extends feminist scholarship on ethos by reflecting the development in feminist philosophy from locational toward relational thinking. While the introduction extensively outlines L...

Despite pioneering reclamation efforts, feminist rhetoricians have only scratched the surface of the multilayered historical reception and representation of Aspasia, a fifth-century BCE Milesian woman famous for the company she kept. Aspasia's penchant for historical perseverance means that her recovery must extend far beyond the ancient world. Throughout the centuries roused by the so-called Woman Question, she was on the lips and brush-tips of many on the lookout for antecedent and analogous women to serve as models or antimodels. Focusing on nineteenth-century Europe, we illustrate her powerful presence in art. Our discussion showcases Aspasia conversing (Nicolas-André Monsiau), instructing (Honoré Daumier), and contemplating (Henry Holiday). In their work Aspasia resists attempts to mute her colors and reemerges as a painted lady.

Engaging with feminist rhetorical methodologies of critical imagination and interdisciplinary queer studies of gossip, this essay theorizes gossip as a methodology for feminist and queer historiography in rhetoric. Gossip as historiographic practice is then illustrated through the example of its uses to develop a queer history of rhetorical education and women’s epistolary practices.

Queer theory often poses normativity as a primary exigency and target for queer resistance, which can result in anticipatory and ahistorical readings. A methodology of “queer rhetoric in situ” intervenes in this propensity by examining the contingent, historically specific relations among locally enforced norms, rhetors, acts, and multiple audiences. Queerness and normativity should be understood as shifting, fractured valences, rather than two cohesive opposing forces attached to perceived forms of sexual orientation, families, or activisms. A rhetorical case study of the Gay Liberation Monument’s controversial and delayed instantiation in New York’s Greenwich Village illustrates the stakes of this methodological shift.

During the height of the Americanization era, the General Federation of Women's Clubs launched a campaign to raise standards of citizenry via the "Ninety Days of Opportunity" initiative and Primer for English Instruction. Members solicited immigrant women by offering English-language instruction classes, home visits, and support during naturalization. Strikingly, there is little evidence of how immigrant women responded to Americanization programs or experienced clubwomen's educational efforts. However, by juxtaposing two different sets of archival data, this study listens for intersections of differences and commonalities between the two groups of women to create the beginnings of a cross-cultural dialogue.