The writing contained herein, primitive as it remains in many respects, has been enormously improved by the interventions of those who allowed me to grope publicly toward an appropriation of The Second Sex as well as toward this particular expression of my dissatisfactions concerning the present state of philosophy and, specifically, its relationship to feminism. I am especially grateful to audiences at Michigan State University, the University of New Hampshire, Loyola University of Chicago, the University of California at Irvine, and Vanderbilt University; at conferences in Paris and at Penn State University commemorating the fiftieth anniversary of the publication of Le Deuxième Sexe; and at various meetings of the International Association of Women Philosophers and of the American Philosophical Association. I also thank Harvard University for a dissertation fellowship that allowed me to finish writing the first draft of this book.
I received very helpful and extensive comments on large portions of the manuscript from Fred Neuhouser, Ken Westphal, Bob Scharff, and Andy Nathan. Toril Moi has read virtually every word I’ve ever written about Simone de Beauvoir and has been a constant source of encouragement and inspiration. From when I began thinking about Beauvoir as a philosopher, I have been dependent on the path-breaking work and the generous moral support of Peg Simons, Debra Bergoffen, Eva Lundgren-Gothlin, Sara Heinämaa, and especially, Julie Ward and Karen Vintges.
I feel extremely fortunate to have learned to do philosophy under the tutelage of Hilary Putnam, Fred Neuhouser, Burton Dreben, and, most fatefully, Stanley Cavell. I am also deeply indebted for my philosophical education to Steve Affeldt, Bill Bracken, Bill Bristow, Jim Conant, Alice Crary, Paul Franks, Eli Friedlander, Tim Gould, Arata Hamawaki, David Macarthur, Katalin Makkai, Sanford Shieh, Martin Stone, and Lisa Van Alstyne. I’m grateful, too, for the steadfast support of my friends and colleagues in the Philosophy Department at Tufts University.
This book could not have been written apart from my feeling sustained by the friendships of Leah Bird, Bonnie Ciambotti, Ellen Cooper, Laura Fizek, Randy Glassman, Liz Gruber, Lori Kahn, Ingrid Müller, Diane Shufro, Emily T. W. Shuster, and Suzy Wetlaufer. Justina Fadlin and Jennifer Lee know, I hope, that my life would fall apart without them. Finally, I thank my parents, Art and Danita Bauer, and my children, Max and Anneliese Cooper, for their love and forbearance. I dedicate this book to you, Anneliese, in hopes that it can help make sense of a world that strikes me as unfit—but not, I imagine, irremediably so—to contain the likes of you.