What do you think?
Rate this book
They Will Know Me By My Teeth: Stories and Poems of Lesbian Struggle, Celebration, And Survival
"This book was printed, financed, typed, corrected and bound entirely by lesbians." States on cover: "To Be Sold To And Shared With Women Only."
117 pages
First published January 1, 1976
1 person is currently reading
422 people want to read
About the author
Elana Dykewomon
38 books116 followersElana Dykewomon is an activist, an author, and a teacher and has a fiercely dedicated readership who have been eagerly awaiting her next novel for a dozen years. One of the finest thinkers—and writers—the women’s movement has produced, she has worked for the last fifteen years as an editor and teacher of composition and creative writing, both independently and for San Francisco State University. (from the publisher's website)
Red Room - Elana Dykewomon's Biography
Red Room - Elana Dykewomon's Biography
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
November 12, 2024
They Will Know Me By My Teeth (1976) is the definition of intersectionality and communal survival. It oscillates between poetry and prose, all with the same purpose: to highlight and celebrate femininity in all of its forms (including the masculine ones). If I were to summarize the entire book in a single quote it would be, “I am only trying to tell the truth as it has been revealed to me.”
Dykewoman is determined to find truth in every element of her existence: culturally, spiritually, physically, sexually, politically, medically. She shows the quiet forms of hostility encountered by women, the entitlement to their bodies, the desire for their economic oppression. The context in which this book was written is incredibly important to consider. In the 1960s, white women were still unable to get a credit card, serve on a jury, get birth control, get an Ivy League education, or have hiring and workplace equality, and women of color could do even less. Female subordination was not just common, but expected. By the time this book was published, homosexuality had only been removed from the DSM (the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) for three years. This silencing of the “other” is obvious even from the publication context as it was written, edited, and published by lesbian women before independent publishing was even a consideration (the first self-publishing manual wouldn’t be published until 1979, three years after the publication of this book). It is because of this context that Dykewoman’s collection is so intersectional, she was attempting to speak against every system that tried to exercise its power over her.
As with many other narratives from marginalized authors, a primary theme of this book is “violence.” Through poetry and prose alike, Dykewoman explores how violence originates in the womb and the physical trauma of childbirth (another note of context for this time is that epidurals were not commonplace until the 1980s) and is then perpetuated through political, economic, and medical institutions. She repeatedly acknowledges the physical and emotional pain of this violence, such as a stanza from the poem “The First Lesson:” “i admit / this is not poetry / it is the noise a wounded animal makes / knowing no other medicine / this is my first message: / you can withstand an infinite amount of pain / as long as you can sing / the song that rises in the middle of it.” Here she makes the direct link between the pain of womanhood, of lesbianism, of oppression, and survival. Just as spirituals informed blues which informed rap, the pain can be turned into something beautiful. As long as the voices of the “other” are heard, survival is possible. It is only when we cannot turn something tragic into something worth celebrating that our souls begin to wither and die.
Just as important to Dykewoman as the community of women and lesbians with whom she is surrounded, is the community of artists and writers. Also from “The First Lesson” she says, “the reason you write / is to have the maps / in case you need to go back.” This tells the reader of the importance of literature for Dykewoman, it is not just something for voice and expression, but a map through time. This echoes the theoretical sentiments surrounding modern post-colonial literary theory that advocate for the elevation of post-colonial authors to provide the truest accounts of history outside of what the systems of power want us to believe. Again, the intersectionality of Dykewoman is at the forefront: in order to tell a full history, to have the maps we need, we require literature, stories, voices of those who have been excluded for centuries.
Dykewoman is determined to find truth in every element of her existence: culturally, spiritually, physically, sexually, politically, medically. She shows the quiet forms of hostility encountered by women, the entitlement to their bodies, the desire for their economic oppression. The context in which this book was written is incredibly important to consider. In the 1960s, white women were still unable to get a credit card, serve on a jury, get birth control, get an Ivy League education, or have hiring and workplace equality, and women of color could do even less. Female subordination was not just common, but expected. By the time this book was published, homosexuality had only been removed from the DSM (the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) for three years. This silencing of the “other” is obvious even from the publication context as it was written, edited, and published by lesbian women before independent publishing was even a consideration (the first self-publishing manual wouldn’t be published until 1979, three years after the publication of this book). It is because of this context that Dykewoman’s collection is so intersectional, she was attempting to speak against every system that tried to exercise its power over her.
As with many other narratives from marginalized authors, a primary theme of this book is “violence.” Through poetry and prose alike, Dykewoman explores how violence originates in the womb and the physical trauma of childbirth (another note of context for this time is that epidurals were not commonplace until the 1980s) and is then perpetuated through political, economic, and medical institutions. She repeatedly acknowledges the physical and emotional pain of this violence, such as a stanza from the poem “The First Lesson:” “i admit / this is not poetry / it is the noise a wounded animal makes / knowing no other medicine / this is my first message: / you can withstand an infinite amount of pain / as long as you can sing / the song that rises in the middle of it.” Here she makes the direct link between the pain of womanhood, of lesbianism, of oppression, and survival. Just as spirituals informed blues which informed rap, the pain can be turned into something beautiful. As long as the voices of the “other” are heard, survival is possible. It is only when we cannot turn something tragic into something worth celebrating that our souls begin to wither and die.
Just as important to Dykewoman as the community of women and lesbians with whom she is surrounded, is the community of artists and writers. Also from “The First Lesson” she says, “the reason you write / is to have the maps / in case you need to go back.” This tells the reader of the importance of literature for Dykewoman, it is not just something for voice and expression, but a map through time. This echoes the theoretical sentiments surrounding modern post-colonial literary theory that advocate for the elevation of post-colonial authors to provide the truest accounts of history outside of what the systems of power want us to believe. Again, the intersectionality of Dykewoman is at the forefront: in order to tell a full history, to have the maps we need, we require literature, stories, voices of those who have been excluded for centuries.
October 8, 2018
Liked the prose, skimmed the poetry.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews