• The Unfinished Business of the Sexual Revolution
• Keren R. McGinity (bio)

"The history of progress is written in the blood of men and women who have dared to espouse an unpopular cause, as, for instance, the black man's right to his body, or woman's right to her soul."

—Emma Goldman¹

Since writing the piece, "American Jewry's #MeToo Problem: A First Person Encounter" in June 2018, I have been repeatedly asked: what do I think of Steven M. Cohen's scholarship?² I understand why people ask, but the question misses the larger point of why I did not name him in the text. As the first woman in Jewish studies to speak out, I followed in the footsteps of my #GamAni foresisters Debbie Findling and Danielle Berrin, whose experiences with sexual harassment were in camping and journalism respectively. My goal was not merely to draw attention to the egregious behavior of an individual. I certainly wanted to protect other unsuspecting women from experiencing what I did, and for Cohen to be held accountable, but my ultimate goal was much broader. As indicated by the title, my essay was intended to force the academic and faith communities to which I belong to wake up from their irresponsible slumbers and fully reckon with the fact that gender equality, ethical leadership, and social justice require systemic and structural change.

I am grateful for the invitation to respond to the essay by Lila Corwin Berman, Kate Rosenblatt, and Ronit Y. Stahl. The authors effectively reveal "the construction and tenacity of the continuity paradigm and its deep entrenchment in the politics of Jewish social science research and communal priority setting." Their analysis is essential reading. During the research for my two books on Jews, gender, and intermarriage, I was at least partially ensnared in the Jewish communal agenda about marriage and fertility. I was intent on dismantling the idea that "good Jews" only marry other Jews, and demonstrating that children with one Jewish parent could be fully Jewish while honoring the heritage of both [End Page 207] parents.³ Although I used gender and change over time to reframe the assimilation versus transformation debate that the late-twentieth and early twenty-first century continuity narrative hinged on, I see now that my historical analyses were still trapped by the patriarchal and misogynistic structures described by Berman, Rosenblatt, and Stahl that based "family values" on heterosexual couples and the numbers of children they produced. To thoroughly redress the communal agenda's myopic focus on Jewish families defined by marriage and multiple offspring, scholars need to devote significant attention to Jews of all genders, with or without partners or children, or with only one child.⁴

The authors' essay diagnoses a persistent inequity in Jewish communal life, one that is actually larger than they describe. The continuity paradigm—"an obsession with fighting intermarriage and programs meant to encourage Jews to have Jewish babies"—had ramifications beyond who Jews married and how many offspring were generated. While I agree with the authors' historical analysis that Jewish institutions, social researchers, and donors "sought to conserve and control the boundaries of Jewish life in the United States" by portraying intermarriage and low fertility as existential threats, their essay stops short of surveying the full story wrought by the continuity paradigm. What impacts one gender invariably impacts another.

By placing the onus of Jewish survival squarely on women's shoulders, the continuity paradigm reinforced existing gender dynamics that excused Jewish men from the unpaid labor of domestic Judaism. As the authors point out, the continuity paradigm was built on a series of binaries: endogamy/exogamy, core/periphery, correct/incorrect. In so doing, I argue, it reinforced traditional conceptions of Jewish gender, underscoring yet another binary: producer/consumer. Jewish men, like most American men, were encouraged to achieve professional success first and foremost, and thereby to become good providers for their wives and children.⁵ So whether they married coreligionists or women of other faith backgrounds, married other men or chose not to marry at [End Page 208] all, men were exempt from Jewish parenting duty. It is not enough, in my opinion, to criticize The Forward's...

• 性革命的未完成之事
• Keren R.McGinity（生物）

“进步的历史写在那些敢于拥护不受欢迎的事业的男人和女人的血液中，例如黑人的身体权或女人的灵魂权。”

-艾玛·高曼¹

自2018年6月撰写文章《美国犹太人的#MeToo问题：第一人称遭遇》以来，我一再被问到：我对史蒂文·科恩的奖学金有何看法？^2个我理解人们为什么要问，但是这个问题忽略了为什么我在案文中没有给他起名字的更大含义。作为犹太研究中第一位大声疾呼的女性，我跟随我#GamAni的前妻Debbie Findling和Danielle Berrin的足迹，他们的性骚扰经历分别是在露营和新闻业。我的目标不仅是要引起人们对个人恶劣行为的关注。我当然想保护其他毫无戒心的妇女不要经历我的所作所为，并追究科恩的责任，但我的最终目标是要更加广泛。如标题所示，我的文章旨在迫使我所属的学术和信仰社区从他们不负责任的沉睡中醒来，并充分考虑到性别平等，道德领导，

我很高兴邀请Lila Corwin Berman，Kate Rosenblatt和Ronit Y. Stahl回应这篇文章。作者有效地揭示了“连续性范式的构建和坚韧及其在犹太社会科学研究和公共优先权设定中的政治根深蒂固”。他们的分析是必读的。在对两本关于犹太人，性别和通婚的书进行研究的过程中，我至少部分陷入了关于婚姻和生育的犹太共同议程中。我的目的是消除“好犹太人”只能与其他犹太人结婚的想法，并证明拥有一个犹太父母的孩子可以完全是犹太人，同时尊重父母双方的遗产[第207页]。³尽管我使用性别和随着时间的变化来重新构架二十世纪后期和二十一世纪初的连续性叙事所依赖的同化与转型辩论，但我现在看到的是，我的历史分析仍然被伯曼所描述的父权制和女性主义结构所束缚。 ，罗森布拉特（Rosenblatt）和斯塔尔（Stahl）将“家庭价值观”基于异性恋夫妇及其所生子女的数量。为了彻底解决公共议程对婚姻和多重后代所界定的犹太家庭的近视关注，学者们需要特别关注所有性别的犹太人，无论有无伴侣或有子女，或只有一个孩子。⁴

作者的文章诊断出犹太人社区生活中的持续不平等现象，实际上这比他们描述的要大。连续性范式-“对通婚和计划的痴迷，意在鼓励犹太人生犹太婴儿”-除了犹太人结婚以及产生了多少后代之外，还产生了其他影响。尽管我同意作者的历史分析，即犹太机构，社会研究者和捐助者通过将通婚和低生育率描述为存在的威胁，“试图保护和控制美国犹太人的生活边界”，但他们的论文却缺乏调查连续性范式构成的整个故事。影响一种性别的事物总是会影响另一种性别的事物。

通过将犹太人生存的责任完全放在女性的肩膀上，连续性范式加强了现有的性别动力，使犹太男人摆脱了家庭犹太教徒的无偿劳动。正如作者所指出的那样，连续性范式是建立在一系列二进制基础之上的：内婚制/外婚制，核心/外围，正确/不正确。我认为，这样做加强了传统的犹太性别观念，强调了另一种二元性：生产者/消费者。像大多数美国男人一样，犹太男人也被鼓励首先获得职业上的成功，从而成为其妻子和孩子的良好养育者。⁵因此，无论他们是与核心信仰主义者结婚还是与其他信仰背景的女人结婚，与其他男人结婚或选择不结婚，请见[完第208页]。所有人都免于犹太教养的责任。在我看来，仅仅批评前进党的...是不够的。