Departures

Abstract

In their quest of for artistic self-affirmation, New Woman writers of the second generation frequently problematized their uneasy relationship with their roots by representing late-Victorian feminists through the eyes of the ‘flapper’. Self-assured, sexually experienced, and proudly assertive of her ultra-modern status, the ‘new’ woman of the twenties was more intent on shocking the moral codes of the older generation than in placing herself in a tradition of politically rebellious women. In many ways the ‘granddaughter’ of fin-de-siècle feminist writers, she reflected the double-edged success this earlier generation had had in popularizing the image of the fashionably feminine feminist. Just as, in the political arena, the turn-of-the-century women’s movement had paved the way for New Feminism¹ (a position considerably less radical, with intriguing analogies to its 1990s namesake), the Flapper replaced the fin-de-siècle New Woman and her Edwardian sister, the suffragette, as a category of cultural contestation.

‘Have you seen that funny old thing with the short grey hair? … I believe she’s what they used to call a “New woman.”’ said the girl in breeches, with a low laugh. ‘Honey, she’s a forerunner, that’s what she is, a kind of pioneer that’s got left behind. I believe she’s the beginning of things like me …’

Radclyffe Hall, The Unlit Lamp (1926; 300–1)

‘Everyone’s here to celebrate [Enfranchisement day], and everyone’s asking where you are … Of course we can’t do without you! … Old? Why, that’s why we want you to tell of battles long ago …’

Julia turned to her husband, her cheeks flushed and her eyes young again.

‘They really want us,’ she said. ‘They haven’t fogotten me after all! … Come along my dear, out into the new world!’

Winifred Peck, The Skirts of Time (1935; 307–8)