This article posits and explores the concept of comedic hermeneutical injustice: a type of hermeneutical injustice that disadvantages members of marginalized groups in the arena of humor-sharing. First I explain the concept of comedic hermeneutical injustice: that agents who are hermeneutically marginalized are less able to successfully participate in the sharing of humor. Then I suggest that, to prove the existence of such an injustice, two things need to be shown: first, that hermeneutically marginalized groups do suffer some disadvantage in how well their attempts at humor are received, and, second, that this disadvantage amounts to a significant harm.

In proving the existence of a comedic disadvantage, this article notes that all jokes require some epistemic content to be shared between joke-teller and joke-hearer. Thus, since being hermeneutically marginalized obstructs one from sharing knowledge with proximate speakers, hermeneutical inequalities can lead to inequalities in the sharing of humor. To show that this constitutes a significant disadvantage, the article observes the various ways that sharing humor successfully can serve agents’ social interests. It concludes by noting some idiosyncrasies of comedic hermeneutical injustice, relative to other forms of epistemic injustice, and situating it within the wider framework of humor's general social-ethical influence.

Bordo argues that the “theoretics of heterogeneity” taken too far prevents us from being able make generalizations or broadly conceptual statements about women. 1 argue that the political efficacy of feminism does not depend on the capacity to speak from the perspective of “women” and that the insistence on the heterogeneity of the category of women does not imply an opposition to abstraction but rather moves abstract thinking in a self-critical and democratizing direction.

On the heels of the groundbreaking Obergefell v. Hodges ruling legalizing same‐sex marriage in the United States, the lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) movement for marriage equality has received unprecedented coverage. Few people, however, have heard of the marriage equality movement for people with disabilities (PWD). In order to understand the lack of coalition between the two movements, as well as the invisibility of the PWD marriage equality movement, I provide a conceptual analysis of both marriage movement discourses. Drawing on Cathy Cohen's work on secondary marginalization in the black community, I argue that both LGBT folks and PWD actively obscure the most needy, most dependent, and most queer members of their respective communities to gain sympathy and support from a (perceived) independent, heteronormative majority. However, bringing the two movements into dialogue can help us rethink intimate relationships, marriage, and who counts as a citizen worthy of rights.

Our response to Sara Fry's paper focuses on the difficulty of understanding her insistence on the fundamental character of caring in a theory of nursing ethics. We discuss a number of problems her text throws in the way of making sense of this idea, and outline our own proposal for how caring's role may be reasonably understood: not as an alternative object of value, competing with autonomy or patient good, but rather as an alternative way of responding toward that which is of value.

Lesbian Ethics, a U.S. journal of lesbian culture, has offered highly readable philosophical essays, reviews, discussions, and other nonfiction since late 1984 (twelve issues to date). It provides a forum in which the meaning of “lesbian” takes shape from self concepts formed in cooperative interaction and thus lays the groundwork for lesbians becoming publicly recognized as the foremost interpreters of lesbian identity and history.

This introduction highlights the place of “interest” in Isabelle Stengers's essay “Another Look: Relearning to Laugh” and considers its importance for feminist analyses of the sciences. Claiming that the positive affects have been underemployed in feminist philosophy of science, it is argued that Stengers's essay shows how criticism in the sciences can be re-animated through interest, excitement, and laughter.

I distinguish between the nineteenth‐ to twentieth‐century (modernist) tendency to rehabilitate (white) femininity from the abject popular, and the twentieth‐ to twenty‐first‐century (postmodernist) tendency to rehabilitate the popular from abject white femininity. Careful attention to the role of nineteenth‐century racial politics in Nietzsche's Gay Science shows that his work uses racial nonwhiteness to counter the supposedly deleterious effects of (white) femininity (passivity, conformity, and so on). This move—using racial nonwhiteness to rescue pop culture from white femininity—is a common twentieth‐ and twenty‐first‐century practice. I use Nietzsche to track shifts from classical to neo‐liberal methods of appropriating “difference.” Hipness is one form of this neoliberal approach to difference, and it is exemplified by the approach to race, gender, and pop culture in Vincente Minnelli's film The Band Wagon. I expand upon Robert Gooding‐Williams's reading of this film, and argue that mid‐century white hipness dissociates the popular from femininity and whiteness, and values the popular when performed by white men “acting black.” Hipness instrumentalizes femininity and racial nonwhiteness so that any benefits that might come from them accrue only to white men, and not to the female and male artists of color whose works are appropriated.

In several works Teresa Brennan examines how, contrary to social notions of the separate and contained self, all that exists in the natural world is connected energetically. She identifies a “foundational fantasy” whereby the ego comes into existence and is maintained by the notion that it controls the mother. The effects of this fantasy are socially oppressive and, in the technological era, environmentally disastrous. M;y examination of narratives and images in ancient myth, popular culture, literature, and art suggest ways to counteract the destructive fantasy through re-symbolization of the relation to what Brennan understands as the original/living nature, which is correlated to the mother's body.

Miranda Fricker maintains that testimonial responsibility is the proper corrective to testimonial injustice. She proposes a perceptual‐like “testimonial sensibility” to explain the transmission of knowledge through testimony. This sensibility is the means by which a hearer perceives an interlocutor's credibility level. When prejudice causes a hearer to inappropriately deflate the credibility attributed to a speaker, the sensibility may have functioned unreliably. Testimonial responsibility, she claims, will make the capacity reliable by reinflating credibility levels to their proper degree. I argue that testimonial sensitivity may be or involve “mindreading,” the cognitive capacity by which we predict human behavior and explain it in terms of mental states. Further, I claim that, if testimonial sensibility is or involves mindreading, and mindreading is a function of brain processes (as claimed by cognitive neuroscientists), testimonial injustice cannot be corrected by testimonial responsibility. This is because 1) it appears to rely on conscious awareness of prejudice, whereas much bias occurs implicitly, and 2) it works at the individual level, whereas testimonial injustice occurs both individually and socially. I argue that the remedy for testimonial injustice is, instead, engaging in social efforts that work below the level of consciousness.

As Helen Longino's overview of Hypatia's engagement with feminist epistemology suggests, the last twenty‐five years’ contributions to this field reveal a strong focus on the topic of knowledge. In her short outline, Longino questions this narrow focus on knowledge in epistemological inquiry. The main purpose of this article is to provide a framework for systematically taking up the questions raised by Longino, one that prevents us from running the risk of becoming unreflectively involved in sexist, racist, or otherwise problematic inquiry. I argue that a specific form of the method of Reflective Equilibrium, as it is widely discussed in moral epistemology, logic, and theories of rationality, enables us to cope with the problems of traditional epistemology, which feminist theorizers such as Sally Haslanger have pointed to. With the account of Reflective Equilibrium I am offering—drawing in many respects on the model provided by Catherine Z. Elgin—we have an ameliorative method that allows us to rethink epistemological values, goals, and standards in a systematic way, and that largely avoids implicit and explicit biases in epistemology.

Pervasive feminism is a component located in emotionality—feminist emotion—and contains women's primary agency. Because affect and emotions are elusive, an interpretive conceptual tool is necessary and is key to making use of their potential for feminist politics aimed at women's empowerment and well‐being and to build gender equality. This essay builds on contemporary feminist theory and affect theory and draws from multidisciplinary research. It presents a new theoretical framework anchored in hermeneutics and phenomenology to pin down the affective component of women's multifaceted, intersectional emotional experiences of gender. A case study also illustrates how the theoretical premises around the concept of feminist emotion are compatible with and useful for feminist praxis.

In Democracy in America, Tocqueville described the ideal wife of a democratic citizen as a capable domestic helpmeet who enables the citizen‐husband to endure the daily trials of political activity. Tocqueville's biographers have presented Tocqueville's own wife Mary Mottley as having approximated this ideal. Mottley's importance, it is claimed, lay in providing the domestic calm and psychological support that Tocqueville needed to think, act, and write as he did. My aim in this article is to challenge this interpretation by offering an overdue reassessment of Mottley's life and work, uncovering the hidden labors she performed in Tocqueville's circle and giving scope, where possible, to her own political views and activities. Mottley, I argue, refused to confine herself to the domestic‐management and emotional‐support roles typical of a Tocquevillian citizen‐wife. Instead, she carved out a role for herself (albeit limited) as Tocqueville's political and intellectual interlocutor.

There was a day in March 2020 when I discovered I was old. There had, of course, been quite a few previous intimations of impending old age, but they had not “really” defined my being for me. Some years earlier, I had been surprised when people started to offer me their seat on a crowded bus or train. At first, I politely refused the seat; later, I decided that I would accept such invitations because declining seemed ungracious, and because accepting would encourage this thoughtful behavior from which “others” would benefit. Recently, as my feet have begun to ache more, I have sometimes been happy to accept a seat on my own account. There have been other intimations too: some physical indications, such as needing a brighter light in order to read and stiffness in my knees. There have also been signs that my cultural, intellectual, and professional world, a world in which I have been deeply embedded, is passing: Students now live in an online media world that is alien to me, and a few of my colleagues have made it known that they find my research interests on Simone de Beauvoir a bit old-fashioned (I don't agree with them, of course). But none of this actually defined me for myself as “old.” Surely, still an unremarkable, white, late-middle-aged woman, I did not think I “looked my age.” Surely, I had not yet become a member of that detested “foreign species” (as Beauvoir put it) whose presence lurks within us all and that I, like most of us, so vehemently sought to deny.

Audre Lorde's account of the erotic is one of her most widely celebrated contributions to political theory and feminist activism, but her explanation of the term in her brief essay “Uses of the Erotic” is famously oblique and ambiguous. This article develops a detailed, textually grounded interpretation of Lorde's erotic, based on an analysis of how Lorde's essay brings together commitments expressed across her work. I describe four integral elements of Lorde's erotic: feeling, knowledge, power, and concerted action. The erotic is a way of feeling in the work a person does, which makes possible new knowledge about the self and the social environment—particularly to counteract epistemic oppression imposed by an unjust society. The erotic is a source of power by providing vision and energy for actions integrating a person's multiple commitments and political interests. It facilitates concerted action and coalition by enhancing a person's appreciation of their interests and values, while fostering embodied, personal connections that build trust based on shared vulnerability. Thus, the erotic helps build coalitions where genuine differences of perspective and experience can be examined, in resistance against an oppressive society's epistemic distortions.

Care theorists often think of care as involving (at least) “caring‐about”—concern or attentiveness—and “caring‐for”—acting to nurture, look after, or meet needs. One problem for any theory of care is the scope of our obligations to care in both of those senses; in particular, our capacities for “caring‐about” often outrun our capacities for “caring‐for.” Accounts of care as potentially global in scope may ascribe overwhelming obligations to moral agents; however, we are often tempted to avoid or ignore situations that may call for a caring response. I suggest that some Kantian ideas may help to strike a reasonable balance.

Ofelia Schutte's relationship to Nietzsche is contentious. Sometimes she identifies him as an ally. Sometimes she calls him an enemy. Appealing to Nietzsche's abolition of the appearance reality distinction and to his discussions of women as skeptics, I turn to Ofelia's discussions of the Madres de la Plaza de Mayo to suggest that their protests can be understood as a Nietzschean politics of transvaluation where the myth of the mother and the materialities of women's bodies become the ground of the demand for justice.

Following the recent decisions by Western militaries to pursue greater integration of women into combat roles, this paper examines the principles that motivate integration and organizes them into a theoretically coherent scheme that could serve as a roadmap for policymakers as they rebuild military institutions and their combat units in an integrated fashion. The strategy of the paper is Rawlsian: the right relationship between the principles that motivate integration can be derived through an application of Rawls's methodology as described in A Theory of Justice. The result is a lexically ordered set of principles that begin with gender‐blind equal opportunity but permit adjustments that take gender into account when these adjustments serve the interests of military institutions. The paper concludes with a discussion of two concerns, one practical and one theoretical, that one might have about the account.