I was pleased to read Jane Hindman's thoughtful review of my book and to learn that she finds my work valuable and innovative. I am particularly interested in her description of our profession as "self-authorized, self-professed, and self-surveilled." I agree with Hindman that we do play a major role in shaping the discourse of the profession, that "our own and group expressions construct the success, rigor, and ethics of scholarly research and publication," and that as "professionals [we] are the authors and guardians of these pressures and trends." However, I do not share Hindman's contention that we can change the state of the profession simply by recognizing our roles as "authors and guardians" of these traditions. Yes, interrogating and changing our habits of reading or resisting feminists texts are crucial in the process of change, and yes, we're accountable for and complicit in much that goes on in the academy and our profession, but there are also structural, financial, and political constraints that go beyond the scope of academics' professional practices.

For instance, a careful study of feminist thought (or any other intellectual movement that challenges the status quo) shows that change in the academy is not a simple matter of changing our attitudes or even our actions. That is certainly where it begins, but not where it ends. Case in point: a cursory look at the development of women's studies programs on different campuses (I have directed two such programs in different parts of the country) reveals that the authors/guardians of these programs have made major strides in establishing the field of women's studies and in combining activism with scholarship, teaching with research, and program administration with community outreach (all concepts that challenge traditional academic divisions of labor and community). However, most women's studies programs today are still programs, not departments; offer more undergraduate minors than majors; offer some masters' degrees but still very few PhDs; have some faculty lines, but usually only as joint appointments; and are structurally marginal rather than central to most universities' academic units and curricula. I run down this brief list not to diminish the many accomplishments of women's studies scholars--and they are many indeed--but rather to make the point that it takes more than feminists' resistance, action, and self-awareness to change the shape of the academy. Institutional structures and material realities--in turn shaped by political, cultural, and economic conditions--contribute in important (and not always visible) ways to the state of the profession. In my experience, changing the profession begins with changing our professional practices, but it goes far beyond that. Nevertheless, I find Hindman's reminder that our own readerly habits shape the profession valuable as we consider the ethical dimensions of our work.

I also agree with Hindman that readers often resist feminist, experimental texts (and at the same time, are quite willing to plow through the likes of Foucault, Wittgenstein, and Wittig for the sake of a good dose of continental theory), and that we should question our own professional motives when we find ourselves engaging in such reading practices. But that is a topic for another essay, not one I intended to address in my book. So I must disagree with Hindman's claim that I "disempower feminist authors by charging them with the full burden of 'greater interpretive responsibility' for their construction of texts that challenge traditional publication practices"; I would raise the same issue with texts and authors of other traditions when they pose unusually demanding interpretive tasks for readers. To reiterate my point (both in Ethical Dilemmas and here), let me urge scholars to carefully consider what forms of writing they produce, for what purpose, and with what audience in mind. I have not retracted my support or encouragement for experimental forms of writing, but I do argue that authors--whether feminist or of another persuasion--should use experimental forms of writing selectively and consider innovation in relation to readability, accessibility, and intended audience. If we want to promote writing that leads to political action and social change--certainly one of my goals as a feminist and writing studies scholar--then we need to make informed, carefully considered choices about when to spin our theoretical and feminist magic in innovative, experimental forms of writing and when to write more traditional, linear, predictable, (and yes, perhaps historically masculine) prose. I do not mean to set up false dichotomies here, as genres and audiences easily blur, but I do want to challenge academic writers to make purpose and audience awareness central concerns--central ethical concerns--for their scholarly work. In fact, I couldn't agree more with Hindman that "accountability for discursive practices comprises an academic professional's ethical and interpretive responsibility not just to feminist theory and method, but to any system grounded in equitable, open-minded exchange."

But I am straying too far from the purpose of my book, which is to explore ethical dilemmas in feminist research. What I'd like to do in closing is to reflect briefly on ethics and the future of our profession. Ethical dilemmas are not the sole domain of feminist scholars (although feminists have done much to direct our attention to these issues); ethical dilemmas are likely to be faced by all composition researchers, whether they conduct quantitative, qualitative, historical, textual, or other kinds of research. Moreover, ethical dilemmas are not only the domain of researchers; they are likely to affect teachers, students, and administrators as well. Classrooms, campuses, workplaces, community centers, boardrooms, and many other settings are places where scholars, teachers, and administrators are likely to encounter ethical dilemmas. While feminist scholars have been particularly vigilant and vocal about ethical concerns, the field of writing studies now seems poised to address ethics in the profession as a whole. (Note, for instance, the recent rise of publications in journals, books, and conference presentations that address ethical issues from a wide range of perspectives.) I want to propose that our profession would do well to develop its own set of ethical guidelines, much like other disciplines have done. For example, the American Anthropological Association, the American Historical Association, the American Educational Research Association and most other humanities and social science organizations all have written and adopted their own statements of professional ethics. I believe writing studies scholars are ready to do the same. Recently, the CCCC Executive Committee set up a committee to examine and propose guidelines on the use of student writing in professional publications; together with Peter Mortensen, I am exploring what a statement of ethics might look like for our profession; and Paul Anderson is writing on a book on professional ethics. These and many other efforts currently under way attest to the importance--I would say, urgency--of attending to the ethical dimensions of our research, teaching, and professional lives.