Conversation with Dara Greenwald, Chicago, 2003

Dara Greenwald reflects on how her feminist perspective was shaped by both academic discourse and grassroots activism, particularly in movements like punk and Riot grrrl. She recalls the early ‘90s feminist push for representation and accountability: “They (Riot grrrl) were writing all these zines… outing people for sexual assault and rape… and holding the community accountable for sexism.”

Teaching in under-resourced schools, especially with Black and Latino students, exposed Greenwald to real-world power dynamics that contrasted with feminist theory: “A lot of what feminism was about to me was an analysis of power and it wasn’t necessarily about like, being women-centric or anything.” She recounts her transition from teaching to art, initially hesitant due to internalized gendered expectations that prioritized service over self-expression. While pursuing an MFA and working at the Video Data Bank, she encountered early video art dominated by men, prompting her to create Bouncing in the Corner, No. 36DDD in response to Bruce Nauman’s Bouncing in the Corner.

Committed to the intersection of activism, art, and feminism, Greenwald sought ways to merge cultural production with social change while challenging traditional hierarchies. This led to her involvement in Ladyfest, a grassroot, volunteer-run festival supporting women in arts and activism. She later expressed concerns about the event’s cultural capital being misused when later iterations adopted hierarchical structures rather than collective organization.

Greenwald critiques the co-optation of feminist and activist movements, noting how identity politics can be commodified when detached from collective action: “Women used to have to fight to get toxic waste out of the playground where their children play. Now all they have to do is eat a Luna bar.” She also reflects on nostalgia in contemporary culture, where historical references often emphasize aesthetics over political struggles. Addressing the visual nature of protest, she asserts: “Protests look the same, but the world doesn’t. And protest needs to look different. That’s where the aesthetic part comes in.”

This perspective influenced her work with the Pink Bloque in Chicago, a radical feminist street dance troupe she co-organized. The group, formed partly out of frustration with exclusionary leftist organizing, aimed to attract those who might not otherwise engage in activism. The Pink Bloque participated in anti-war protests, reproductive rights demonstrations, and actions against rape culture, performing in activist and art spaces. Their work gained media attention from The Washington Post and Chicago Tribune and was presented at universities and conferences, highlighting how their activism bridged different communities.

In 2003, the group was planning a large-scale action for the national reproductive rights march in Washington, D.C.—a choreographed dance featuring hundreds in pink, creating a striking visual statement. This action aimed to spotlight overlooked issues like forced sterilization, economic barriers to abortion, and broader reproductive justice concerns: “It’s challenging to feel like what you do is meaningful and also not just be critical of things that seem not meaningful at all.”