Semicolon Fall 2019

SEMICOLON

An Arts and Humanities Students’ Council Publication...

SEMICOLON VOLUME 7

ISSUE 1

FALL 2019

Copyrights remain with the artists and authors. The responsibility for the content in this publication remains with the artists and authors. The content does not reflect the opinions of the Arts and Humanities Students’ Council (AHSC) or the University Students’ Council (USC). The AHSC and the USC assume no liability for any errors, inaccuracies, or omissions contained in this publication.

Cover Art by: Linda Qian

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR Semicolon has always had a special place in my heart—it was my first publication, my first job as an editor, and one of the most exciting collections of undergraduate writing I have found. Inside these pages is a collection of some of the most thorough, engaging, and provocative academic writing on campus. It has been a pleasure to read through all of the quality thinking, questioning, and writing that happens on our campus, and it has reminded me what a privilege and an opportunity it is to be part of a faculty that allows us to think critically about ourselves and the world around us. Reading the essays collected here brings to mind this famous poem by Hafiz: Water, stories, the body, all the things we do, are mediums that hide and show what’s hidden.

Study them, enjoy this being washed with a secret we sometimes know and then not.

As the knowledge and critical outlook generated by the undergraduate scholars included in this issue washes over you, I hope that you come out of this issue of Semicolon inspired to wonder and to create.

This publication would not have been possible without the passion and dedication of the Arts and Humanities Students’ Council and the Publications Committee. To all our general members and editors, thank you so much for your vision, your laughter, and your support. It has been a true pleasure creating with you. And thank you to you, reader, for picking up Symposium and going on this journey with us.

Rose Ghaedi Editor-in-Chief

WHAT WE'RE ABOUT Semicolon is the Art and Humanities Students’ Council’s bi-annual journal of peer-reviewed academic writing. Semicolon aims to showcase the best writing and thinking by students at Western University - we are looking for the provocative, for the considered, for the critical analysis of our world and the stories we tell ourselves about it.

Semicolon is published bi-annually by the arts and Humanities Students’ Council of the University of Western Ontario. Semicolon is generously funded by the Arts and Humanities Student Donation Fund. The Publications Team would like to thank the Donations Fund Committee, the students who submitted their creative works, and the rest of the Publications Committee who volunteered for the creative review board.

To view previous editions or for more information about Semicolon, please contact the Arts and Humanities Students’ Council in Room in University Collage room 2135.

Special thanks to the Publications Committee...

Editor-in-Chief: Rose Ghaedi VP Communications: Shelby Hohmann Academic Managing Editor: Courtney WZ Creative Managing Editor: James Gagnon Copy Editor: Neha Khoral Layout Editor: Jess Attard General Members: Amelia Eqbal, Denise Zhu, Francesca DeNoble, Lela Burt, Mia Sutton

The Virgin Mommy: Societal Rejection of Sexuality Throughout Pregnancy and Motherhood

By Amelia Eqbal

It is considered a contentious idea that a woman can be a good mother while simultaneously maintaining her sex appeal and satisfying her bodily desires, or rather, it is contentious to give the impression that one is conducting this balancing act. Society often scrutinizes pregnant women and mothers who choose to embrace their sexuality; they are deemed dissident because they do not subscribe to traditional social standards of motherhood. This essay will challenge the notion that embracing one’s sexuality as a pregnant woman and/or as a mother is deviant by evaluating the roots of this idea, how it still manifests itself today, and how two high-profile women are challenging it.

In doing so, I argue that this idea has harmful social implications for women involved, as they are shamed and denied agency to express themselves, thereby imposing unfair limitations on their bodies and behaviours.

In her book Female Chauvinist Pigs: Women and the Rise of Raunch Culture, Ariel Levy discusses “raunch culture” – or, a society where there is “a baseline expectation that women will be constantly exploding in little blasts of exhibitionism” throughout their lives (Levy 17). However, this “cultural embrace of sexuality” that Levy speaks of may only be “cosmetic” according to May Friedman, who observes that this “light coating of raciness…does not begin to grapple with the full range of female desire” (Friedman 51). Friedman draws attention to the fact that across feminist academic texts and popular culture, there is a “general erasure of maternal desire” (51). This gap in literature and representation suggests that women who are pregnant and/or mothers are not thought of as sexual beings. They are not expected to acknowledge their sexual desires or exude sexuality, and face intense criticism should they choose to do so.

Shannon Trice-Black refers to sexuality as being “a lifelong experience with multiple transitions” (Trice-Blake 154). She points out that the transition to motherhood poses unique challenges for women, as they must both “adjust to their roles as mothers” while attempting to “maintain their own identities” (154). At the same time, “societal definitions of sexuality within the context of motherhood” often complicate this process, as women must also try to mitigate their identities both as sexual beings and as mothers (154). Thus, Levy’s idea of society expecting demonstrations of sexuality from its women is complicated because pregnant women often receive messages along the lines of: “you’re hot, but on the border of obscene; you’re perfect, but you’re huge; don’t feel bad about yourself, but your thin body is better” (Petersen 123). In this way, it is

evident that pregnant women – and mothers by extension – are not expected, nor encouraged, to present themselves as sexual beings. Put more simply, “women’s choices are restricted by cultural and societal expectations” (Oliver 769).

One potential explanation for the notion that women should contain their sexuality as mothers could be the idea that a woman who is pregnant or raising a child would be more comfortable forgoing strappy, form-fitting dresses, and high heels – an idea that implies a sense of respect for a woman’s right to choose what she wears. Yet, if this assertion were true, women would not come under scrutiny for donning such fashions, as they would still be exercising their right to dress their bodies however they please. Thus, pregnant women and mothers are expected to abandon any sense of sexiness once they enter these new roles because of an underlying male fear of female sexuality, and a disregard for their comfort.

Shannon Trice-Black explains that “expectations of motherhood and female sexuality are shaped by a patriarchal culture.” (Trice-Black 159) The patriarchal structures that many societies are founded upon fear the power of women, specifically the power of their sexuality. Consequently, these structures work to supress such power in any and every way possible. As a result, women’s thoughts and opinions have largely been “stifled within this paradigm.” (159) These expectations imposed upon female sexuality are “created, organized, mediated, and reconstructed” through “social structures, relationships, and interactions” and help to create a standard for women to follow as they mature (154). This “standard motherhood script” outlines that “mothers are meant to have neither romantic nor sexual inclinations toward anyone except (and sometimes also excluding) their children’s father” (Friedman 53). Mothers are expected to be pure, moral figures for their children – as female sexuality is seen as a dirty, corrupting force. Thus, there is an established societal expectation for women to abandon their sexuality once they become mothers.

In her article “Sluts and Riot Grrrls: Female Identity and Sexual Agency”, Feona Attwood discusses the history of the meaning behind the term “slut”, and its implications for girls and women, past and present. She explains that “the term ‘slut’ has clearly taken on its meaning in the context of a sexual double standard that conceives of women’s sexuality in terms of a Madonna–Whore binary,” (Attwood 233-234). To this point, the aforementioned “standard script [of motherhood] establishes mothers as selfless caregivers, in stark opposition to hedonistic women with voracious sexual appetites” (Friedman 50). This double standard is poignant within the realm of motherhood, with the Virgin Mary (or Madonna) often upheld as the perfect symbol of motherhood as she is “contained, pure – the antidote to the abjectly pregnant mother” (Petersen 115). At the same time, this binary also

suggests that any woman who strays from this virginal image of motherhood is considered to be a whore, assigning guilt and shame to any mother that dares to enjoy sex or revel in her sexuality.

Pregnant women are often portrayed as pure and heavenly, which is “profoundly contradictory” since the pregnant body is, “at its most essential, the most vivid proof of women’s sexuality” (Petersen 115). Thus, mothers “are held to many deeply contradictory standards”: they are seemingly expected to “selflessly live for their children, while remaining well presented, busty, and red-hot after the babies go to sleep” (Friedman 52). Even if this idealistic life-balance were possible, the notion of a sexy motherhood is also ridden with contradictions. Attwood concludes that “slut” can also refer to a woman who refuses to yield to society’s double standards towards females (Attwood 233). This definition of the otherwise derogatory term is particularly applicable for pregnant women and mothers who refuse to conform to society’s virginal ideals of motherhood; they are often accused of being “slutty” when in reality, they are simply rejecting society’s double standards for mothers.

In addressing the metaphorical “ongoing chasm between sexuality and motherhood”, Friedman remarks that there is a “historical and contemporary disconnect between motherhood and sexuality in both popular and scholarly realms” (Friedman 50). She goes on to quote Petra Büskens, who writes that people assume mothers to be “prudent, tamed creatures who selflessly and, most importantly, platonically love others” (Büskens 35). Friedman puts a finer point on this thought when she states that “sex-loving mamas are meant to remain silent, or worse, are thought not to exist” (51). These assertions demonstrate a complete erasure of maternal desire.

Trice-Black acknowledges that “Societal messages are confusing, as society often presents a split between motherhood and sexuality” (Trice-Black 154). She writes that this “journey to motherhood” can be challenging socially because “the birth of a child” forces mothers to re-evaluate their own identities (158). As a mother, a woman is “no longer free to only think about her needs; instead she must also think about, plan for, and often sacrifice for the needs of her child” (158).

One study suggests that there is a culture surrounding motherhood that suggests sacrifice is necessary in order to “transition to legitimate motherhood” (Malacrida and Boulton 758). In this same study, one participant claimed that she viewed “her sacrifice of her sexy prepregnant self as a heroic gift, given in order to become a good mother” (767). This quote indicates that when women focus on something other than their child – in particular, their sexuality – they are viewed as selfish and feel like bad mothers.

As Friedman so eloquently puts it, “for many mothers who blend sex and motherhood, the choice to live an honest and authentic life comes at [a great] cost” (Friedman 56). It must be

acknowledged that a woman’s experience of motherhood – and the costs associated with blending sexuality and motherhood – vary depending on her sexual orientation, class, race, and age, among other factors. For reasons regarding scope and length, I will not touch upon the specific ways in which these different intersectional identities change the limitations imposed on one’s experience of motherhood.

Kim Kardashian is a prime example of a woman who is well-acquainted with these aforementioned costs. Kardashian achieved her wealth and fame as a reality TV personality and business woman; she now has a net worth of $350 million (Robehmed). Moreover, she is married to famous rapper Kanye West, and a mother of three. While Kardashian may never receive a visit from social services, she has definitely suffered censure and other social costs for the public nature of her past pregnancies. Unlike so many celebrity baby bumps before her, Kardashian’s pregnancies were the opposite of wholesome and beautiful; instead, the experiences were brutal on her body, which invited ruthless opinions and commentary from the press and people on the Internet. Despite all of the challenges she faced over the course of her pregnancies, Kardashian refused to change who she was just because she was with child. Herein lies, as Anne Helen Petersen describes it, “all that was ‘wrong’ with her pregnancy: her weight gain (not cute) and her strategy for clothing it (not appropriate)” (112).

In her book Too Fat, Too Slutty, Too Loud: The rise and reign of unruly women, Petersen dedicates a chapter to Kim Kardashian, analyzing the way she handled her pregnancy and how she subverted many of society’s expectations along the way.

Traditionally, women “of a certain class” aim to contain the abjection of their pregnant bodies by retreating from the public eye until their baby is carried to term (Petersen 115). Kardashian rejected this idea on every front. By maintaining her sense of self and revealing all of the brutal aspects of her pregnancy through her public appearances, social media, and her reality show Keeping Up With The Kardashians, she made it known to society “the truly unruly idea that pregnancy – and, by extension, even motherhood – is not the pinnacle, or even defining purpose, of every woman’s life” (112). Above all else, Kardashian’s wardrobe while pregnant garnered the world’s attention for its departure from traditional maternity wear. Petersen remarks that today, the “baby bump has become, as Molly JongFast declared in The New York Times, the new Birkin bag: it’s ‘cute’ and ‘adorable’ and ‘feminine,’ something to dress up, to rub in photos” (114). The pregnant body has become “a spectacle” that can be “stylized, exploited, scrutinized, and interpreted as emblematic of a woman’s overarching success or failure” (117). If this is true, then Kardashian could very well be viewed as a failure. Her style choices over the course of her pregnancies were often ridiculed and deemed inappropriate

by critics and Internet users alike. For example, during her first pregnancy an image circulated the Internet comparing a photo of a pregnant Kim, dressed in a colour-blocked black-and-white gown, with a killer whale; the image was captioned “Who Wore It Best?” (111-112). This swift passing of judgment made it clear from the start that the public would not keep their opinions on her appearance to themselves.

Today, maternity fashion amounts to “a $2.4 billion business, with thousands of options for every pregnant body” (Petersen 124). Despite this burgeoning industry and its accompanying selection, there still remains “an unspoken demarcation of ‘appropriate’ maternity fashion” (124).

Maternity style can be “feminine and flirty, but shouldn’t be slutty or sexual” (124). Furthermore, once your belly begins to grow, the expectation is for women to “wear clothes designed specifically for maternity wear” (124). Petersen further describes Kim Kardashian’s approach: Kardashian ignored each of those rules. She’d always worn clingy dresses, so she kept wearing them. She’d always shown skin, so she kept showing it – outfits with see-through mesh strips, short dresses that showed off her legs, low-plunging necklines that revealed her substantial cleavage, high-waisted pencil skirts that broadened, rather than hid, her girth. She kept wearing heels, and full makeup, and ‘body-con’ dresses, performing femininity and sexuality the same way she had her entire celebrity career. (124) This refusal to conform to pre-ordained norms of motherly style was, naturally, “met with disgust” (124). Us Weekly referred to her style as “controversial”, perhaps the tamest reaction among the firestorm of media attention Kardashian endured throughout her pregnancy (125). It is also rumoured that Kardashian’s choice to don a skin-tight floral dress for the 2013 Met Gala – highlighting her large baby bump – “prompted Anna Wintour to cut her out of Vogue’s coverage of the event” (125). This is one example of the censure Kardashian experienced for refusing to conceal her pregnant body. Kardashian was scrutinized and ostracized for dressing in a way that transgressed society’s expectations of maternity wear; she was deemed to be dissident, when all she did was simply exercise her right to dress herself however she wants. In this way, society attempted to police Kim Kardashian’s body.

The most perplexing part about Kardashian’s maternity wardrobe was that the public could not understand the point she was trying to make (Petersen 125). Petersen proposes a few answers: “That there are myriad ways to clothe a pregnant body. That the way you feel sexy in your own body doesn’t have to change when you get pregnant. That even at ‘eighteen months pregnant,’ she’d actually be shamed, in some capacity” (125). Here, the double standard of motherhood rears its head: “If [Kim]

tried to keep the baby healthy, she was too fat. If she put on a dress that made her feel attractive, she was too sexy” (125). Attwood references the work of Cowie and Lees when she observes that girls must walk “a ‘very narrow tightrope’…in order to achieve the impossible state of being sexually attractive ‘without the taint of sexuality’” (Attwood 238). Ariel Levy expands on this idea, writing that in today’s world, “[t]here is a disconnect between sexiness or hotness and sex itself” (Levy 30).

In particular, Levy notes that society’s interest lies “in the appearance of sexiness, not the existence of sexual pleasure” (30). Yet, this societal interest in exhibitionism without regard for genuine sexual pleasure is complicated once a woman becomes pregnant. The pregnant and motherly body is considered to be abject, obscene, and not fit for the male gaze; rather, pregnant women and mothers should aim to be demure, not sensual. Friedman writes that there are “very real risks” that come with “blending motherhood and sexuality in ways that deviate from the standard social script” (Friedman 50). Jenna Dewan learned that the hard way.

Jenna Dewan has been scrutinized numerous times for the way she revels in her sexuality while maintaining her status as a mother. As a recent Women’s Health profile details, Dewan’s career has spanned a variety of different artistic avenues: she was formally trained as a dancer from a young age, and, as of late, she has been pursuing acting, hosting and producing (Butterworth). On top of all that, she has a young daughter, whom she evidently adores by the way she talks about her in interviews, as well as in other media appearances. In September of 2017, Dewan “learned the term mom-shaming the hard way: After posting a photo of her lingerie-clad backside on Instagram, followers claimed disappointment in her ‘too sexy’ behavior” (Butterworth). The criticism was swift and cruel enough to garner the attention of media outlets like Buzzfeed, Insider, Women’s Health, InStyle, and USA Today.

About a month later, Dewan posted another picture to her Instagram that garnered attention. In this photo, Dewan is “sitting in her closet, wearing black, lacy lingerie and a pair of Giuseppe for Jennifer Lopez lace-up over the knee boots” (Sprunk). She was “quickly shamed on the social media site for the photo, with many haters criticizing her for being so sexual, because she’s a mom” (Sprunk).

In the wake of all the reproach she garnered online, Dewan did not falter or apologize. Her only online response came in the form of a post featuring a quote about how women should empower each other, not tear each other down. She further shared her thoughts on the incident in Butterworth’s interview saying, “Apparently, when you become a mother, you’re supposed to leave your sexuality at the door, and I never understood that… I think there’s nothing sexier than becoming a mother. You give life. It’s everything. And you don’t change who you are inside just because you have a kid.” This incident addresses “the uneasy relationship between competing ideals of motherhood as asexual and

selfless and the necessity of remaining young, tight, and sexually attractive” (Malacrida and Boulton 752).

Dewan is a perfect case study of what happens when women refuse the standard script of motherhood laid out for them. She refused to change her relationship with herself, her image and her body just because she was a mother, even when she received major backlash for it. Petersen points out “just how rare it is to see a woman inhabit [this spirit]: not because women aren’t intrinsically capable of such lack of concern for what others think of them, but because they’ve been taught for so long that it’s the primary barometer of one’s life” (Petersen 60). Dewan’s posts suggest an unbridled sense of confidence rarely seen in the public eye from a woman, never mind a mother. Dewan also proves that no one is safe from scrutiny – not even upper-class, white, celebrity women; the court of public opinion is always ready in today’s Internet age to hold those who do not conform accountable.

Attwood’s article suggests that the use of certain words to belittle women, like “slut”, stems from a greater male fear of the power of a woman’s sexuality (Attwood 233). Thus, when pregnant women are encouraged to dress “feminine and flirty, but [not] slutty or sexual”, it is an indication of a greater societal agenda: containing women (Petersen 124). Kardashian and Dewan were both accused of being slutty when they refused to dress in accordance with society’s unwritten rules of proper motherhood. The fact that women are still berated and kept in check with words like “slut” is symptomatic of the fact that derogatory attitudes towards women continue to pervade society today and are propagated through language (Attwood 233). Kardashian and Dewan push back against the “silence and shame” that Friedman cites as being “the major contributing factors to the irreconcilability of motherhood and sexuality” by putting their bodies – and their confidence – out on display (Friedman 55-56). By refusing to “submit to dominant cultural norms”, whether it is showing off their pregnant body on their own terms or owning their sexuality as a mother, these “unruly women” help to “flesh out the spectrum of female representation” (Petersen 52). In this way, they help to fill in the gap between motherhood and sexuality that has persisted throughout time.

Levy claims that “[r]aunch culture, then, isn’t an entertainment option, it’s a litmus test of female uptightness”, and that collectively as a society “we have determined that all empowered women must be overtly and publicly sexual” (Levy 40, 26). This assertion, however, is not entirely true. As the case studies of Kim Kardashian and Jenna Dewan demonstrate, society has determined that pregnant women and mothers are not welcome in this category of women who show they feel empowered by being publicly sexual. Maternal figures, then, are only assumed to be uptight; they can never show any sign of being morally or colloquially “loose”. Perhaps there is an underlying

suggestion that pregnant women and mothers cannot be empowered for fear of deviating from the standard script of motherhood. Levy states that, “[w]e skipped over the part where we just accept and respect that some women like to seem exhibitionistic and lickerish, and decided instead that everyone who is sexually liberated ought to be imitating strippers and porn stars” (27). This point can be contested, as public scrutiny still suggests that society has not come to accept and respect some women’s choices to own their sexuality – specifically, women with children.

Shannon Trice-Black cites the definition of human sexuality as being how “individuals experience and express themselves as sexual beings” (Trice-Black 154). When a woman’s sexuality is hindered, especially during a period such as pregnancy and motherhood where confidence and self-esteem can wane, they lose a vital part of themselves that allows them to express their feelings.

In today’s world, however, it is as if, “[t]he more sexual a woman is perceived to be, the less she may be perceived to be a good mother” (154). However, this notion is harmful, because it denies women with children the opportunity to express themselves fully as individuals, confining them to their role as mother. Trice-Black explains that one’s “psychosocial interactions” with society play a large role in “the formation of one’s sexual identity” (154). Thus, the way society berates women into containing their sexuality has lasting impacts on the way women think about their own sexuality throughout their lives. Furthermore, as part of one’s identity, sexuality impacts “many areas of life, including self-esteem, self-acceptance, intimacy, and relationships with others” (154). All of this goes to say that “conflicting sexual messages presented in society add to confusion and frustration of societal expectations of motherhood” (159).

There is an idea within society’s collective conscience that women who are pregnant or mothers should not exude any sense of sex appeal or sexual desire; if they do, they are deemed to be dissident and are scorned for it. This idea stems from a historical trend of male anxiety over female sexuality and notions of sacrificial purity associated with pregnancy and the role of a mother. While the concern surrounding “the issue of the appropriateness of blending sexuality and motherhood” may seem valid at first, Friedman writes that “[a] critical engagement with this rhetoric suggests that an argument for child welfare does not provide a credible rationale for the limitations placed on maternal sexuality”; women who continue to embrace their sexuality in motherhood “are no more a threat to their children than [other] mothers” (Friedman 54, 55, 55).

Kardashian and Dewan are perfect examples. While they are both highly successful women who maintain their individual identities, they also clearly value their children and are fully capable of raising and providing for their families. Kelly Oliver summarizes it best when she writes that “[i]

n both feminist theory and popular culture, the relationships among women, sexuality, pregnancy, choice and time are vexed, contested, conflicted, and changing” (Oliver 761). If a woman is unable to meet the unrealistic expectations that accompany motherhood, it “can lead to negative feelings such as disappointment, frustration, and sadness” (Trice-Black 160). When women push back against these arbitrary ideals, they are subject to swift and harsh scrutiny. Friedman further extrapolates this idea by stating that if society is going to resist the invisibility it has imposed upon sex and motherhood, and connect these two realms in the public sphere, then we must think critically using a “feminist lens: exploring how such rhetoric often leads to behaviours that are deeply harmful to children, promoting normativity and social control over dialogue and critical thinking” (Friedman 55).

Works Cited Attwood, Feona (2007). Sluts and Riot Grrrls: Female Identity and Sexual Agency. Journal of Gender Studies, 16(3), 233-247.

Bright, Susie. 2008. “Egg Sex.” In Sexual Reality, 103- 112. Santa Cruz: Bright Stuff.

Büskens, Petra. 2002. “From Perfect Housewife to Fish- net Stocking and Not Quite Back Again: One Mother’s Story of Leaving Home.” Journal of the Association for Research on Mothering 4, no. 1 : 33-45.

Butterworth, Lisa. “Jenna Dewan Bares All: Her Relationship With Channing Is Different-In A Good Way.” Women’s Health, Women’s Health, 26 July 2018, www.womenshealthmag.com/relationships/a22501893/jenna-dewan-channing-tatuminterview/.

Cowie, C. & Lees, S. (1981) Slags or drags, Feminist Review, 9, pp. 11–21.

Friedman, May. “Beyond MILF: Exploring Sexuality and Feminism in Public Motherhood.”

Atlantis: Critical Studies in Gender, Culture & Social Justice/Études Critiques Sur Le Genre, La Culture, Et La Justice, vol. 36, no. 2, 2014, pp. 49.

Levy, Ariel (2005). “Raunch Culture.” In Female Chauvinist Pigs: Women and the Rise of Raunch Culture (pp. 7-45). New York: Free Press.

Malacrida, Claudia, and Tiffany Boulton. “Women’s Perceptions of Childbirth “Choices”: Competing Discourses of Motherhood, Sexuality, and Selflessness.” Gender & Society 26.5 (2012): 748-72. Web. 11 Dec. 2018 Oliver, Kelly. “Motherhood, Sexuality, and Pregnant Embodiment: Twenty-Five Years of

Gestation.” Hypatia, vol. 25, no. 4, 2010, pp. 760-777.

Anne Helen Petersen (2017). Too Gross: Abbi Jacobsen and Ilana Glazer, and Too Pregnant: Kim Kardashian. In Too Fat, Too Slutty, Too Loud: The rise and reign of unruly women (pp. 51-72, 111-134) Plume: Penguin Random House.

Robehmed, Natalie. “Why Kim Kardashian West Is Worth $350 Million.” Forbes, Forbes Magazine, 11 July 2018, www.forbes.com/sites/natalierobehmed/2018/07/11/why-kim-kardashian-west-is-worth-350million/#509cb4104f7b.

Sprunk, Cara. “Jenna Dewan Tatum Just Posted Another Sexy Photo That Has Everyone Freaking Out.” Women’s Health, Women’s Health, 28 Oct. 2017, www.womenshealthmag.com/life/a19955109/jenna-dewan-lingerie-shamed/.

Trice-Black, Shannon. “Perceptions of Women’s Sexuality within the Context of Motherhood.”The Family Journal 18.2 (2010): 154-62. Web.

The Entertainment Simulation: Vacation destinations, Smart Phones, and Television in Regard to Baudrillard’s Lost Reality

By Elizabeth Sak

Jean Baudrillard was horrified by America’s taste in amusement. In Simulacra and Simulations, Baudrillard explains his concerns regarding the loss of reality and its replacement with simulacra by analyzing how America is like Disneyland, a fake hold-up is indistinguishable from a real one, and Watergate is not a scandal. These arguments initially appear absurd and counter-intuitive, but upon further analysis prove excellent examples of how “reality” appears to be vanishing from the world.

Baudrillard successfully identifies a shifting world, which has only continued to blur the lines of the real and hyperreal, evident by construction of “The World” in Dubai, the widespread use of smart phones, and the popular emergence of reality television seen with the show Survivor.

Baudrillard insists that reality is disappearing, and in its place, is a rising simulation, which “bears no relation to any reality whatever: it is its own pure simulacrum” (Baudrillard 423).

Simulation is therefore more than just a false representation: it is a representation of something that never truly existed, but whole heartedly proclaims its realness. Disneyland is his prime example: “Disneyland is presented as imaginary in order to make us believe that the rest of the world is real, when in fact all of Los Angeles and the America surrounding it are no longer real, but of the hyperreal and of simulation” (424). What distinguishes the hyperreal from the real and where did it come from? Editors David Lodge and Nigel Wood note the emergence of the hyperreal and its need to be recognized: “To the famous categories of the real, the symbolic and the imaginary, it is going to be necessary to add the hyperreal, which captures and obstructs the functioning of the other three” (Lodge and Wood 430). The hyperreal has become a necessary new category because “[t]o create in the new age is inevitably to re-cycle, or simulate, signs of past cultures” (Baudrillard 422).

Perhaps then Baudrillard’s proclamation of America as a falsity is not a reflection of American culture or nature, but of a desire of the people to simulate and therefore move away from reality, as the French theorist willingly proclaims. Instead, the rise of simulation could be an inevitable worldwide transition, as the creation of simulacra is not limited to the United States.

In his essay “Constructing (in) the ‘Real’ World”, Paul Hegarty analyzes the way in which modern architecture supports Baudrillard’s claim that reality is disappearing. He points to the creation of “The World” in Dubai, a series of 300 man made islands that roughly match the shape of the Earth’s landmasses divided into sections by country. These “countries” are available for purchase, and Ireland, who has already purchased their miniature landmass, plans to replicate a

notional version of their home. In contrast, ill-reputed countries presumably plan to create a hyperreal version of themselves. In this way, “all of the world’s activities will be represented here, or, more accurately, simulated” (Hegarty 318). Hegarty then proceeds to explain that this simulation “will be better than ‘the world’ we are obliged to live in” (318). This is not a replica of the world, but a recreated version that imitates something that does not exist, though its existence insists on its realness. Therefore, “Disneyland and the World seem to offer alibis for realness beyond them, also spreading the hyperrealisation of that would-be real” (327). Does it matter then, if someone visits the idealized island of Ireland in Dubai or the actual Ireland in Great Britain? “No-one has ever known an unmediated world; all we have are ways of imaging it” argues Hegarty. And now that society has reached a point where an imagined world is possible, and desirable, if Disneyland is any indication, the imagined may replace the real. Hegarty claims the real world has moved from a system of truthful values, to one of representation, and now to one of simulation, where “the copy has no model from which to work: the copy becomes the model” (319). Organic existence and emergence of culture is now being simulated and displayed as the real. This becomes disturbing when one does not recognize the existence of the simulation, or if they search for it andcannot tell it apart from the real. Disneyland and “The World” create “an imaginary effect, concealing that reality no more exists outside than inside the bounds of the artificial perimeter” (Baudrillard 424). These places attempt to fool society into believing the simulation lives elsewhere, when in fact it is all around us.

When the CIA and journalists discovered that president Richard Nixon had been secretly involved with wiretapping phones at the Democratic Party’s national headquarters in the Watergate Complex, the Washington Post publicized this event as a scandal. However, the very same methods of wiretapping were used to uncover these deeds in the first place. By promoting Watergate as a scandal, journalists and the CIA were “concealing that there is no difference between the facts and their denunciation” (424). The demonization of such action was required in order to “regenerate a reality principle in distress,” or to assure the public of what they previously believed was real: that invasions of privacy such as this are immoral and should be treated as such (425). There would be panic among the public if such violations of privacy were known to be widely used and deemed acceptable.

Therefore, a hypocritical message is taken up, where one side, in this example, the Republican Party, acted in a scandalous manner and the public does not need to consider how this wrong was uncovered.

Baudrillard argues that Watergate is not a scandal, and stresses the importance of this distinction in order to understand the distortion of reality that surrounds us today. The scandal lies not in the actions taken, but in the presentation that such actions are immoral and condemned. With the mass expansion

of smart phones and personal computers, the public has become immensely easier to “wiretap”. New technology has not only created opportunities for audio invasion, but for visual invasion as well, through the use of smart phone and personal computer cameras. Fortunately, many individuals are at least somewhat aware of their potential privacy invasion, and even joke about asking questions to the FBI employee monitoring one’s phone or computer. Perhaps the normalization of a monitored society is a different disturbing issue; the awareness of such possibilities, even in a comical way, would likely relieve Baudrillard. Though it is considered scandalous to access information without permission, the true scandal arises from the concealment of widespread privacy abuse and its condemnation as a manner of distraction from what is happening.

Despite this example, the awareness of modern society can in other ways be easily thwarted.

Baudrillard discusses the dangers of simulation, claiming “it is practically impossible to isolate the process of simulation” and from this “it is now impossible to isolate the process of the real, or to prove the real” (427). Baudrillard uses the example of a hold-up: if an individual attempted to simulate robbing a department store, with fake weapons and demanding a fake ransom, though there is no intent for real harm, the individual would be thrown into the real because there is no way to prove simulation. Finding themselves in the real, the individual would likely be shot by security guards trained to handle real situations. Is it intent then that takes something from the real to the simulation, or is it capability? Regardless, these two pieces are nearly impossible to determine.

Baudrillard argues that parody and simulation can be detrimental to society: “Parody makes obedience and transgression equivalent, and that is the most serious crime, since it cancels out the difference upon which law is based” (426). Baudrillard recognizes that, through simulation, society may realize that laws are meaningless: “second-order simulations, such as the law, which appears to uphold the natural order, but which, in effect, is the product of a particular productive economy, and thus its signs of order refer only to other signs.” (Lodge and Wood 426). The laws constructed to maintain order and reality are based on signs, or simulations, that do not themselves exist, causing a problematic loop that gives no logical reason for their theoretical existence. Clearly this observation, if widely accepted by the public, would have catastrophic consequences leading to anarchy and destruction of society as we know it.

While it seems unlikely that any sane individual would risk simulating a robbery, a seemingly innocent simulation has infested itself in our everyday world in the form of reality television.

Christopher Wright explores reality television in relation to Baudrillard’s concerns with simulation in his essay “Welcome to the Jungle of the Real: Simulation, Commoditization, and Survivor.” After

first airing in 2000, the TV show, depicting a number of contestants competing to “stay alive” on an island, quickly gained a cult following. Reality television, as a genre, attempts to enforce the truth of this fake world. The show is careful to portray the “realness” of the contestant’s experience by using a number of cameras that never appear on screen and carefully cutting footage to make the experience smoother for the audience. The director even admits to using stand-in characters for certain scenes to get better shots, and asking contestants to repeat certain events. Wright analyzes how the director of the show “manipulated footage, and therefore the audience, by further augmenting the already false reality of the program” (Wright 173). An additional simulation occurs with the hyperreal settings intended to represent authentic foreignness and intensity of the competition. This is especially done in the tribal council settings, where the contestants vote on who will be leaving the island. Wright is appalled by this cultural bastardization: “Tribal Council settings—the fact that they have taken place in such locales as a faux African village, complete with realistic huts, speaks volumes about the alleged death of authenticity in our culture today.” Notice here that Wright says, “alleged death,”, for though these are hyperreal representations, they create an authenticity in their own right. Survivor has produced a simulation of its own in the form of three novels written by Mario Lanza. In these books, Lanza throws together sixteen contestants from prior seasons into a new fictional version of the show in which these characters also compete to win. Wright notes that “[the] Key to the success of these novels is their perceived authenticity, in terms of the representations of the “characters” and mimicry of the television program’s elements” (176). In support of the novels’ “authenticity”, several of the shows contestants who were included as characters in Lanza’s novel were shocked by the realness captured (176). One such contestant, Helen Glover, claimed Lanzo “seemed to capture my personality very well, which was amazing, seeing as how he had no personal interaction with me” (176). It is a fictionalized TV version of the character presented in the novel, twice removing the individual from their “real” form, yet some of the true character appears to be shining through. Such developments support Baudrillard’s argument, that the simulation and the real are very hard to tell apart, and at times bleed into one another.

Baudrillard states “Illusion is no longer possible, because the real is no longer possible” (Baudrillard 426). My question is, when did the real cease to exist? Was it Disneyland that did it in for all of us? Are Americans to blame for sparking the cycle of simulation because they were incapable of creating anything real themselves? This seems unlikely. With the growth in technological and industrial capabilities, simulation was inevitable, not just in America, but on a global scale. Yet, perhaps authenticity has not died. Instead, what we have deemed the real of the past, which, as Lodge

and Wood note, is followed by the categories of the symbolic and imaginary, needs to make room for another category moving forward. Simulation is the spoon, mixing together the three pools that were at one time distinct, creating a product known as the hyperreal. This creation cannot be avoided, as it has already occurred in the examples above, but we need not approach it in the same distressed manner as Baudrillard. Our new reality is a creation born from nothing real itself; this is a danger we must be aware of, a danger we may currently love, and must learn to live with.

Works Cited Baudrillard, Jean. “Simulacra and Simulations.” Modern Criticism and Theory: A Reader, Edited by David Lodge and Nigel Wood, Routledge, 2008, pp. 423-429.

Hegarty, Paul. “Constructing (in) the `Real’ World: Simulation and Architecture in Baudrillard.”

French Cultural Studies 19.3 (2008): 317-31. Web. 22 Mar. 2019 Lodge, David, and Nigel Wood, editors. Modern Criticism and Theory: A Reader. 3rd ed., Routledge, 2008, pp. 421-422, 430.

Wright, Christopher J. “Welcome to the Jungle of the Real: Simulation, Commoditization, and Survivor.” Journal of American Culture (Malden, Mass.), vol. 29, no. 2, 2006, pp. 170-182.

“G-Strings to Ankles”: A Critical Ethnography of Strip Club Culture

By Bertina Lou

This ethnographic study provides descriptive observations of a Greater Toronto Area strip club, and explains the social interactions that occur within this location. A strip club setting was chosen because it is a classical topic of deviance studies. The abundant literature published on the subject also shows that they are contentious spaces. There is a dialectic between perspectives that accuse strip clubs of facilitating the exploitation and objectification of women, and perspectives that assert the empowering elements of stripping (Pilcher 2009). My initial curiosity, as a researcher, lay in understanding the culture and individual experiences at a strip club, given the preponderance of feminist discourses in our current political context (e.g. with the #MeToo movement). Would the work performed at this strip club exemplify growing discourses surrounding women’s agency and personal fulfillment?

METHODS This qualitative study is a critical ethnography that not only produces descriptive research on the social world inside of strip clubs, but also applies Marxist and feminist perspectives to identify and explain oppressive practices within that setting. My primary method of data collection is participant observation, in which I hold the role of observer as participant, and is further supplemented by informal conversations. I use inductive processes to analyze, interpret, and theorize based on my data collected.

In this ethnography, I took on-the-fly jottings with my phone and recorded thick descriptions on my laptop after exiting the field. All individuals with whom I interacted were informed of my interests as a researcher, and assured of the anonymity of their responses. I also enlisted the help of two friends, as research confederates, to decrease the risks associated with entering a foreign setting, and to present a more viable image of consumers at a strip club.

My data was collected over the span of roughly one hour in a Greater Toronto Area club, which I will refer to as “Effervescence.” Effervescence is a fully nude strip club that offers all-purpose, non-stop entertainment for 14 hours a day, everyday. My confederates and I easily obtained access to this physical space since there was no enforced cover charge or gatekeepers (such as bouncers) at the door of the club. We entered the field on a Tuesday evening at 6:50pm and exited at 8pm. No exiting strategy was required as all patrons of Effervescence come and go as they please.

INSIDE EFFERVESCENCE Setting Upon entering, I was met with an intense flashing of red and pink strobe lights. They were emitted from above a multi-level stage on one side of the room and provided the bulk of the lighting in an otherwise dim space. The stage was a rectangular strip that extended from one wall into the center of the room, and had two dance poles. It also contained stairs leading up to a smaller landing on top. The edges of the stage, and each stair, were lined with pinpricks of light. Above the stage were mirrors that directed the gaze of spectators to performances taking place on the stage surface. It was a grand visual display. The audience was mostly empty; however, there was a light smattering of guests and employees. Loud, electronic “trance” music, with a steady and reverberating beat, penetrated the venue, which made hearing conversation difficult. The music had a hypnotic rhythm, with a lethargic feel. Despite the explosive light system, the overall energy in the room was low. Between songs, the disembodied voice of a male DJ (who I was unable to locate) blasted in the room. The club felt remarkably dingy and depressed.

Round, miniature table stands and seating (arranged at two chairs per table) were wrapped around the stage in a diffuse semi-circle. The very edges of the room were lined with couches and sofa chairs, with one drink bar situated against the wall opposite to the stage. A second-floor balcony wrapped the three walls facing the front of the stage, visible to the open seating below. Love seats and single sofa chairs also ringed the upper-floor balconies, but were turned inward with their backs toward the stage. Instead of facing the center of the venue, they faced rooms on the second floor that had their entrances veiled by black curtains.

My confederates and I seated ourselves at a table near the outer edge of the room, in front of couches that lined the back walls. We were under a balcony, but had a clear view of the stage. A female server greeted us, took our drink order, and brought drinks to the table without checking our ID’s. When asked about why none of our drinks were served with lids, she responded, “Yeah we got sued…Some girl tripped on our lid so we take them off.” I asked her about the rooms on the second floor, and she explained that they were where private lap dances occurred. We were not presented with any materials explicitly outlining what this club offered (i.e. no menus for food, drinks, or entertainment services). Except for responses to the specific questions that we asked, we received no description of what to expect at Effervescence.

Dancers The dancers at Effervescence were all women who appeared to be less than 25 years old. They were mostly white, with three being visible minorities, and had come from various cities all over the Greater Toronto Area. There were at least 15 dancers in total, all of whom deviated very little from current mainstream ideals of beauty: every body was thin, fit, and voluptuous. All but one of the dancers styled their hair long and straight, flowing past their shoulders, and none had hair on other body parts. They were scantily clad in platform heels and lingerie, such as bikinis, bodysuits, and leotards. Each dancer also had her own purse or clutch bag that she carried closely, presumably for storing payments.

There was one dancer performing on stage at all times. When they were not on stage, dancers either scattered themselves in the seats along the walls or mingled with patrons. There was a stark contrast in their behavioral presentation depending on their activity. Dancers who were seated alone kept to themselves, with their heads bent over their cell phones in a slouched posture that did not invite interaction; they had the lounging appearance of someone on a private break who did not want to be bothered. Seated dancers emitted more energy when they lounged in friendly pairs along the wall and chatted together, some with a drink in hand. A change in presentation was most prominent when dancers engaged with club patrons as they would become visibly animated. When I first entered, I noticed two dancers interacting with patrons. The first one was at the table of an older patron, and held an attentive, straight-backed, and perky posture. Her torso was fully turned towards him, and she leaned in closely, leading with her chest, as the patron sat upright during their conversation. Another dancer interacted with a different patron, on a couch, by the wall. This dancer initially sat next to the patron, but eventually transitioned onto his lap. She draped herself over him as time progressed and ended with her arms wrapped around him in a lazy manner that gave her an ornamental appearance.

She allowed him to fiddle with the straps of her bodysuit, which covered only her nipples. Both of these dancers eventually led their patrons across the floor and upstairs. It seemed to be standard procedure for dancers to approach patrons, establish a rapport, and offer more services in a private room. I heard a dancer approach a patron behind me, asking, “What’s up?� before sitting down next to him.

On the stage, dancers continuously rotated strip performances in sets of three songs each. They kept all garments on for the first song, removed clothing from their breasts for the second song, and removed articles covering their crotch during the last song. The bodies of a few dancers evidenced strength or flexibility training, but dance routines seemed to have the main purpose of showcasing

the dancers’ physical appearance rather than their skill in the performing arts. The routines showed very little self-expression and personal connection to the music. Dancers did not utilize the poles in ways that demonstrated any technical training in pole dancing. Instead, poles seemed to stand in as phallic symbols to encourage the imagination, as dancers touched themselves and moved in sexually suggestive ways around them. The dancers performed slowly, in a uniformly disengaged and aloof manner, with vacant facial expressions. Their movements were standardized and had a heavy, lethargic feel that muted their individuality. Dancers did not interact with the audience while on stage.

Patrons All visitors to Effervescence, aside from my confederates and I, were exclusively men.

Roughly 30 men cycled through the setting during my observation period. They spanned a wide range of ages, but it was interesting to note that all older patrons that night (likely above 55 years old, many with visibly white hair) were white, while younger patrons were mostly non-white. Many of the men dressed in dark-coloured, relaxed clothing (like hoodies), kept their winter jackets on, and wore caps or toques over their heads. However, several men were also dressed in business casual attire, such as pinstripe, button-up shirts, and dress shoes. There was no apparent dress code for men at Effervescence.

Almost without exception, men entered the strip club alone and sat dispersed across the room as they quietly watched the dancers. When one of my confederates asked a man sitting near us if he was a frequent visitor, he responded, “I don’t come here often, just came to watch the show. I was just in the area.” Many patrons had a slumped posture. It was difficult to tell if they were either very comfortable (as if watching television at home) or very uncomfortable and posturing their bodies to prevent interactions with other patrons (since many had hoods pulled over their heads). The only departure from this trend of lone spectatorship by patrons was a group of three older men in full business suits. They entered and sat together, then chatted animatedly at their table through the night.

NOTABLE EVENTS Dance Invitations My confederates and I were approached twice in the evening by dancers, who seemed to follow a procedural invitation for their services. Both dancers walked to the table where we sat, opened their knees wide, and squatted down in their heels to greet us. They positioned themselves either at our eye level or below so that our gaze was directed down upon them. Both dancers shook our hands, and introduced themselves.

The first dancer who approached us, who I will refer to as Rose, seemed to be under the influence of some substance, and had slightly puffy eyes. She immediately asked us, “Have you been here before or is this your first time? Can I ask why you decided to come here?” We explained our research intentions and asked her why she stripped. She factually declared, “the money, the fast money… It’s twenty dollars a dance. It’s four minutes long… I already made sixty bucks.” She was referring to how her stage performance (which consisted of three songs that were each roughly four minutes long) had already earned her 60 dollars in the twelve minutes that she danced. Rose then left to solicit business from other patrons, saying, “If I’m bored, I’ll come back and answer more questions.”

I will call the second dancer who approached us “Lily.” Lily seemed to be under the influence of something as well, because her unusually slow responses made her movements seem sedated. She also had smoker’s breath. Lily began by saying, “So you guys do dances?” We declined a dance but asked her if she worked in addition to studying. She replied, “I don’t study, I just strip…Oh I’m not mad. I dropped out of school twice. It was travel and tourism, and behavioral psychology. I was never a school person.” She went on to explain that dancers keep every penny they earn at Effervescence, which makes money only from the foods and drinks it serves.

Backstage Access At one point in the evening as I searched for a restroom, someone directed me towards the dancers’ backstage area (possibly because female patrons at Effervescence are so rare that he assumed I was a dancer). The dancers’ staff room was essentially a changeroom. Battered lockers plastered with aggressive graffiti covered one wall and faced three toilet stalls. Sofa couches were haphazardly placed throughout the space, including inside toilet stalls, with articles of clothing strewn on them.

A row of sinks stood under a large mirror at the end of the room. The entire space was littered with garbage, including wrappers and Styrofoam take-out containers. Many tiles on the walls and floors were broken or crumbling. The room smelled unpleasant and had a seedy appearance due to its dim, orange lighting.

Several signs were taped on the walls to communicate with dancers. They gave reminders of backstage policies, such as, “MANAGEMENT RESERVES THE RIGHT TO CHECK BAGS AND JACKETS FOR CONTRABAND ITEMS,” as well as on-stage policies, like, “OUR CLUB ISN’T A TOPLESS GIRL BAR. IT’S A FULL NUDE STRIP CLUB. PLEASE DROP G-STRINGS TO ANKLES. NO EXCEPTIONS.” Multiple signs reiterated similar ideas throughout the room and consistently stated, “NO EXCEPTIONS.”

Church Interjection Another unusual event happened during the evening. Three women entered Effervescence with a cardboard box of items and made their way around to all dancers on the floor. When they approached where my confederates and I sat, I noticed that seven of the nine dancers who were lounging behind us left before these women could speak to them. When we inquired about what they were doing, the women explained that they were from a church in a neighbouring city and visited Effervescence once a month. Their cardboard box contained several picture frames, which they offered to the dancers. Each frame contained a positive, self-affirming quote and had a handwritten note attached to it. One church member said that her group does this for the dancers “just so they know they’re loved.” I did not see any dancer accept a picture frame.

A MARXIST FEMINIST ANALYSIS OF STRIP CLUB PERFORMANCES The point of departure from this Marxist feminist analysis includes Judith Butler’s theory of gender performativity, as well as foundational ideas of Marxism. This critical ethnography uses data collected on the social environment inside Effervescence to identify and analyze oppressive practices in a strip club setting.

Feminist Theoretical Background Judith Butler’s (1990) theory of gender performativity states that gender is “performative”: it exemplifies specific behaviors that consolidate impressions of being a man or a woman. Gender has no interior depth, but is instead produced as an effect (Butler 1990: 184). These effects are constructed with “signifying practices”, (like appearances, actions, and words) that are bounded by discourses, (dictating what constitutes a man/woman) and operate through repetition to produce an identity that is culturally intelligible (Butler 1990: 184). In other words, Butler argues that people are forced to signify their gender using existing discursive practices, such as normative displays of masculinity/femininity, in order to be recognizable to others. However, as they participate in repetitive significations based on dominant understandings of gender, people reinforce the very discourses by which they are bound. Agency therefore lies in the possibility of a variation on that repetition (Butler 1990: 185). Butler states that, by attempting to displace gender norms as they are performed, one can engage in “subversive repetitions” that contest existing practices and give rise to new possibilities for gender outside of rigid binaries (1990: 185).

Marxist Theoretical Background I also draw on foundational ideas of Marxism, such as commodity fetishism and alienation, in my analysis of Effervescence. Karl Marx (1867) states that a commodity is an object outside of human beings, that is produced by their labour to serve a purpose. To Marx, labour is an inherently social activity (Marx 1867). In their production, workers create objects that embody their individuality and represent manifestations of their life (1932). Labour is not only an affirmation of the essential nature of the worker, but also is a social relationship between the producer and consumer, since commodities satisfy the needs of another human being (1932). It is therefore a way to facilitate human relations through the objectification of human powers, by granting workers both an expression of their individual being and recognition by others in their work (“Encyclopedia of Marxism: Alienation”).

However, commodity fetishism occurs when the social character of labour becomes perceived as an objective character between the products of labour, as an economic relationship rather than a fundamentally human one (1867). Commodity relations subsequently become reified: products are perceived to possess concrete and natural properties existing independently of the workers that created them (“Encyclopedia of Marxism: Reification”). Workers experience alienation when their products appear as external to their own consciousness, despite how products cannot exist without first being cognized by the workers themselves (“Encyclopedia of Marxism: Reification”). It is in this way that labour assumes an oppressive form.

A Theory on the Commodification of Gender Performance Using an inductive approach, this critical ethnography draws on Marxist and feminist ideas to shed light on how gender is constructed, performed, and consumed in a strip club. I propose a theory on the commodification of gender performance in order to help identify and analyze the oppressive practices that occur within a strip club setting.

Although Effervescence appeared to be lax about its club norms (without explicit rules or dress codes for its patrons), it certainly enforced strict control over its dancers, with signs repeating “NO EXCEPTIONS.” I noticed that the dancers (all of whom were women) were hired and trained to perform like the standardized idea of the female stripper. Like Marx (1844), I start from the real subject, and examine its objectification. Everything about the dancers’ physical presentation, including hairstyles, clothing, bodily posturing, and physical gestures as they engaged with patrons, signified femininity and womanhood. The consistent mannerisms that dancers displayed on the job, in addition to backstage posters that commanded a certain type of performance, led me to believe that they were coached to conform to specific behavioral rules, stemming from the gendered roles they play.

Butler’s idea of “signification” is exemplified as dancers partake in this regulated process of repetition based on discursive practices of gender. These understandings of gender are then marketed and sold to patrons within an economic system, demonstrating Marx’s concept of commodity fetishism.

The commodity fetishization of gender results in the appearance of gender as having an objective character, rather than being an idea conceived by actors. The commodification of gender performance in a strip club setting therefore produces the reification of gender itself. Through performative repetitions, the idea of “woman” becomes essentialized as a natural and inevitable human characteristic, independent of the dancers who create it. The dancers’ gender appears as a truth outside of themselves, which obscures the social and human roots of its production. Gender performances in a strip club therefore conceal the discursive construction of womanhood while, simultaneously, reinforcing dominant understandings of gender. Additionally, because dancers are forced to follow a prescribed set of behaviors, their actions are void of agency; they cannot engage in subversive acts of gender performance, or express their gender identity as they, themselves, understand it. Their performance is the product of their own labour, yet dancers exercise little control over its creation.

Consequently, they are alienated in their labour activity due to an inability to manifest their essential nature and individuality.

The problem lies not only in the nature of the work that dancers perform, but also in the context in which dancers perform their work. The two dancers with whom I interacted seemed to have entered the world of stripping as a result of failing in other pursuits. As Rose’s comment on the “fast money” demonstrates, some dancers are motivated to work because of their need to subsist. Furthermore, their ability to be recognized and rewarded (in the form of dance requests and payments) is dictated by the preferences of their clients –specifically, men. This suggests that, besides experiencing alienation due to their obligation to perform gender identity in routinized ways, dancers also experience oppression from the ruling notions of femininity that are constructed by, and serve the fantasies of, men. As they accept the constructions of womanhood requested by male patrons, dancers physically enact and reinforce the scripts that bolster normative definitions of gender. However, the power dynamics in these situations are such that acts of subversion by dancers could result in repercussions like client loss and decreased revenue. The dancers’ disadvantaged position (predicated on their need for economic survival) forces them to perpetuate dominant ideas of gender and suppress their own agency. Dancers are thus unable to step outside of discourse, and perform their labour activity in ways that might be more empowering to them. It is in this way that the dancer’s own product (her gender performance) comes to dominate her: a cultural construction that

she, herself, participates in creating is commodified, and sold at the expense of her agency. A dancer satisfies the desires of others through her labour activity, yet she is robbed of self-expression, and thus, made poorer. In many ways, it is not her product but the product the patron. Although it would be easy to dismiss the church members, who were temporarily at Effervescence, as opportunistic and unhelpful, it is worth noting that the emotional nature of their aid (i.e. positive quotes as a gesture of love) demonstrates concerns about the psychic deprivations caused by stripping. Without economic freedom, dancers must conform to the gender expectations of men, subdue their essential nature, and accept a profound alienation in their production.

REFLECTIONS A Note on Reflexivity I was surprised to come out of my experience with such a “conservative” opinion, one grounded in traditional views of strip clubs as facilitating the exploitation and oppression of women.

Despite my desire to enter the setting with as few preconceptions as possible, my surprise reveals that I was likely hoping for an environment that would empower women. I was expecting dancers to have the ability to explore their gender and sexuality, given the prevalence of feminist discourses in today’s milieu. However, like most industries, strip clubs sell consumer-driven products, and with a predominantly male audience, the power still lies with men, as it has, historically. I recognize that my assumptions came from a privileged standpoint, evident in my hope that strip clubs would present opportunities for women’s self-expression, and bodily autonomy. Underlying these was the assumption that the dancers have more choice, which I now know is not always the case. Many of the dancers at Effervescence seemed to work the job due to economic and opportunity constraints, and appeared to use substances to cope with their situation.

I also had a difficult time accepting my judgement of strip club culture because, as a woman, I want to support and empower other women. However, my conclusions are evidently ripe with sympathy for the dancers, indicating that I interpret my position to be “above” theirs. This sympathy, as opposed to empathy, makes me feel that I have too quickly come to a judgement without having developed enough understanding between myself and the dancers. I am additionally uncomfortable with the fact that my Marxist feminist theory now elevates me to the position of a “knower” of strip club culture, and allows me to disseminate my information, without having consulted the dancers on whether they shared my interpretation of their experiences.

I did not have in-depth conversations with dancers, which precluded any possibility of them detailing the empowering elements of their job which I could not have perceived as an outsider.

Moreover, in the brief conversations that we had, I posed questions based on topics familiar to me (e.g. school). The fact that there are topics that did not even cross my mind to ask about demonstrates my bias towards collecting information only on the things that I can understand. Because of my inability to ask about what I did not know, there was a loss of information on the areas of knowledge where our social worlds did not overlap. This highlights an epistemological limitation.

It is also disturbing to me that, despite my perception of the dancers’ oppression, I have collected their data and left the scene while they cannot. One tenet of Marxism is the need to change situations that one perceives as unjust. This raises an ethical concern for me as I have only identified and described the dancers’ oppression, without effecting change.

Ethnography as a Methodology I learned several interesting lessons from conducting ethnographic research. Because of the setting I chose, my experience was initially foreign and highly uncomfortable. I had never been to a strip club prior to this research, and had never entered environments where full nudity and flagrant sexual gestures were appropriate. However, I noticed that a full immersion in the setting quickly transformed my understandings of “normal.” I was only in the field for roughly an hour, but by the time I left, I was desensitized to, and fully accepting of, the norms and behaviors that initially made me uneasy.

I also learned that having an outsider status in the strip club could be helpful to conducting research. As three women in the audience, my confederates and I seemed to be a rare novelty. This led dancers to approach us on their own initiative and inquire about our purpose at the strip club, opening avenues for further conversation. This was helpful given my role of observer as participant.

However, the observer as participant role did not grant a deep insight into strip club culture.

My engagement with participants was very surface-level and fundamentally shaped by my glaring outsider status. The occasional opportunities for conversation and clarification that I had were insufficient for understanding the dancers’ interpretations of the strip club. During my subsequent analyses, I often felt like I was simply expressing my own opinion on matters. Ethnographies should ideally reveal how people understand culture from their own perspective, but my data and theory were heavily influenced by my standpoint. My outsider status and observer as participant role did not allow me to ask intimate questions or present motivation for dancers to truly confide in me.

Although I found the role of a strip club dancer to be completely disempowering, I did not have the opportunity to explicitly ask dancers and allow them to speak for themselves. There is definitely more data to be uncovered, which requires more resources. Future steps in this research include spending a

longer amount of time in the field and developing relationships with dancers, who might serve as key informants to research.

CONCLUSION My experience as an ethnographic researcher has been enlightening. I investigated a strip club by observing and interacting with the people and spaces within. As a result, I propose a Marxist feminist theory on the commodification of gender performance in order to explain the social interactions that occur in this location. My findings suggest that, despite a preponderance of feminist discourses in society, the work of dancers at Effervescence does not exemplify the growing movement surrounding women’s agency and personal fulfillment. There remains a serious need to address and challenge the oppression that exists in strip club settings.

References “Alienation.” Encyclopedia of Marxism. Retrieved March 1, 2019 (https://www.marxists.o rg/glossary/terms/a/l.htm#alienation) Butler, Judith. 1990. Gender Trouble. London, UK: Routledge.

Marx, Karl. 1867. Capital, Volume I. London, UK: Penguin Books.

Marx, Karl. 1844. Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right. London, UK: Cambridge University Press.

Marx, Karl. 1932. Notes on James Mill. Berlin, Germany: Erste Abteilung.

Pilcher, Katy. 2009. “Empowering, degrading or a ‘mutually exploitative’ exchange for women? : Characterising the power relations of the strip club.” Journal of International Women’s Studies, 10(3), 73+. (http://www.bridgew.edu.proxy1.lib.uwo.ca/SoAS/jiws/) “Reification.” Encyclopedia of Marxism. Retrieved March 1, 2019 (https://www.marxists.org/ glossary/terms/r/e.htm#reification)

An Unspeakable Life: Women, Speech, and Silence in Fred Wah’s Diamond Grill

By Roshana Ghaedi

One of the major themes of Fred Wah’s 1996 bio-text Diamond Grill is the connection between language, identity, and agency in migrant families. The inability to speak is a recurring image that reveals the powerlessness of many characters, especially the women in the novel, many of whom have complicated relationships with their culture and language. In particular, two passages in the novel focus on Aunt Ethel’s experiences and the ways in which her languagelessness both creates and recreates her traumatic history as a migrant woman.

From the first words of the novel’s fourth chapter, “Yet languageless”, Wah focuses on the inability of migrant women to self-express in traditional language, which is expressed through a literal breakdown of language in the final passage of the chapter (Wah 5). This transition from more traditional sentence structures to free-form grouping of words models the migrant women’s difficulties with speech while also forcing readers to actively work to parse the text and create meaning from the often discordant imagery. In effect, the passage itself models that “double-talk” of the women who are constantly forced to contend with the “made-up yarns and foreign scripts” of multiple patriarchal cultures (5).

The breakdown of language in this passage also serves to underscore the suffering of Ethel, who “still feels her life’s outrage” but refuses to speak on the topic except to “sneer” (89). Roger Luckhurst argues that “trauma marks the disjunction between the event and the forever belated, incomplete understanding of the event” and that “[t]rauma can therefore only be an aporia in narrative and ... can only be conveyed by the catastrophic rupture of narrative possibility” (Luckhurst 6, 81). The inability to absorb traumatic history as a comprehensible and communicable memory leaves Ethel, and other women left in her position of powerlessness and languagelessness, trapped in “a silence that shutters numb the traffic between eye and mouth” (Wah 5).

The struggles with language, agency, and expression in this novel are often expressed through imagery that focuses on the mouth: cultural experiences tied to particular recipes, the image of Fred’s father’s omnipresent frown (156), Aunt Ethel’s angry sneer when reminded of her past. Although migrant women like Ethel must struggle to express themselves through “zippered lips” which are held back by language barriers and cultural expectations, they nevertheless find ways to express resistance to the “perpetual masculine writing of [their] memory and [their] history” (89). The urge “to spit, when possible, in the face of the father the son the holy ticket” represents an extra-linguistic

method of communication that bypasses linguistic barriers (5). Such communication pushes back against social and historical expectations of silence and creates a pure expression of anger toward “the imposed interruptions and silences of a life so totally intended by others” (89).

By using the breakdown of language to deal with issues of gendered power imbalances in the face of cultural and linguistic barriers, Diamond Grill allows readers to experience the difficulty of parsing a foreign text and encourages them to actively interpret and pay attention to the angered silences and extra-linguistic resistances of migrant women.

Works Cited Luckhurst, Roger. The Trauma Question. Routledge Taylor and Francis Group, 2013.

Wah, Fred. Diamond Grill. NeWest Press, 2006.

Outdated Regulations: The Ambiguity of Consent in Pornography

By Abbey Horner

Certain types of pornography that exist today are deemed obscene under the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms. The definition of obscenity that exists in the criminal code is the undue exploitation of sex or of sex in any one of the following subjects: crime, horror, and violence. In 1992, Donald Butler, a video store owner, was charged with violating the obscenity law by distributing pornographic videos. He challenged this ruling, claiming that section 163 of the Criminal Code of Canada violates section 2(b) of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms, which upholds his constitutional right to freedom of expression (Robertson, 1992). The Supreme Court of Canada concluded that there is a connection between pornography and violence against women, and therefore, there is a reasonable limit to this expression under section 1 of the charter. The restrictions set out in the Butler case are still justified and should be tightened because certain types of pornography depict acts that seemingly constitute sexual violence, where it is unknown to the viewer whether these displays are consensual or non-consensual, and this ambiguity has a negative effect on society. First, I will establish why pornography cannot be banned under Canadian law, followed by a discussion of the ambiguity of consent in pornography, and finally the detrimental effect that this ambiguity has on society.

Expression refers to any action that conveys meaning. Sexual activity and nudity may simply be physical, but pornography is a depiction of the activity and therefore represents that activity. Thus, pornography, even the undue exploitation of sex, conveys meaning and is a form of expression - and thus, is protected under Section 2b. Removing pornography all together is unlawful, but it can be regulated under section 1 of the Canadian Charter of Human Rights.

Consumers do not know for certain whether the sex the individuals in pornography are engaging in is consensual. Consumers assume that it is consensual and trust that the government would intervene if it was not. The courts, however, rely on the consumers, using the community standards test, to determine if the obscenity is permissible. Many consumers remain ignorant that sometimes the sexual assault depicted on screen is in fact real sexual assault (Busby, 1993).

Individuals have come forward and testified that they were subject to assault. For example, Regan Starr, a former performer says, “I got the &*%$ kicked out of me…. Most of the girls start crying because they’re hurting so bad…. I couldn’t breathe. I was being hit and choked. I was really upset, and they did not stop. They kept filming. [I asked them to turn the camera off] and they kept going”

(Pickard, 2014, 26). Most Canadians do not tolerate sexual assault, yet, we do not question these acts when they are displayed in pornography. These acts are assumed to be consensual. Due to the stigma, lack of economic resources and other issues associated with pornography, it is difficult to estimate the number of assault cases like Starr’s. Individuals that watch porn, however, do not know whether these acts are consensual or not, and thus it is evident that the ruling of the R v. Butler case and its regulation of pornography is not doing enough to protect the consent laws outlined in The Criminal Code of Canada. New regulations must be created to ensure that the representations of the individuals within the scenes do not violate their rights as people.

Consider this scenario: a group of men chase another man and jump on top of him, he falls to the ground. Most people would call that violence or assault. If the men are playing football and they are both smiling after a touchdown has been scored, however, the violence becomes a demonstration of congratulations. Violence must be judged not just by the action, but by the action in the context of both participants’ intentions - in both football and sexual encounters. If both participants agree to these sexual encounters that place women (and sometimes men) in positions of “subordination, servile submission or humiliation,” they are consensual (Dyzenhaus et al., 2014, 932). “In BDSM [Bondage and Discipline, Dominance and Submission] scenes, there is no point at which consent is not clear” (McKee, 2005). The problem is that this consent is not always made clear to the viewer. A system must be established to add to the restrictions set out in the Butler case and ensure that consent is provided by performers and that it is presented to the viewer as a part of the scene.

Since the R v. Butler ruling, there has been a dramatic increase in the amount of pornography produced and accessed. Many children and youth today are learning about sex and consent through these representations that do not acknowledge consent, increasing the amount of harm towards women and sometimes those of other genders that was outlined in the R v. Butler ruling. The R v.

Butler case concluded that representations of “dehumanizing sex do harm society, and in particular, adversely affect attitudes towards women” (Robertson 1992). This argument is still justifiable today because when watching pornography, the viewer is unaware of the context of the participants’ intentions and whether the uncongenial aspect is real or just an act; it interferes with equality and dignity of all human beings. This depiction of sex serves to naturalize and normalize such violence.

When young people see these scenes of “subordination, servile submission or humiliation” presented without consent, that is how they interpret the sexual experience. This misrepresentation of sexual acts is a form of cultural violence. With the increased production of porn that was established as a result of the R v. Butler case and the increasing access to pornography via technology, sex must be consensual

and should be represented as consensual to the viewers.

Regardless of whether or not what appears to be sexual violence is sexual violence, it is a form of cultural violence when consent is not clear. This extension of the R v. Butler case can be justified in the same way it was in 1992 because there is a connection between pornography and violence against women and is therefore, a reasonable limit under section 1 of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms. In the twenty-six years since this law was created, the possibility for harm has increased due to an increase in viewership of pornography. It is time that the pornography regulation increased as well.

Works Cited Busby, K. (1993, September). Leaf and Pornography: Litigating On Equality and Sexual Representations. Retrieved February 1, 2019, from https://scc-csc.lexum.com/scc-csc/scc-csc/en/item/844/index.do Dyzenhaus, D., Moreau, S. R., & Ripstein, A. (2014). Law and morality: Readings in legal philosophy. Toronto: University of Toronto Press.

McKee, A. (2005) The Objectification of Women in Mainstream Pornographic Videos in Australia.

Journal of Sex Research 42:277.

Pickard, M. (2014). Agape Lessons from My Father. Balboa Pr. Robertson, J. (1992, March). OBSCENITY: THE DECISION OF THE SUPREME COURT OF CANADA IN R. v. BUTLER. Retrieved February 1, 2019, from http://publications.gc.ca/Collection-R/LoPBdP/BP/bp289-e.htm

One Heart, One Bosom, One Truth: Cross-Dressing and Desire in William Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night and As You Like It

By Mia Sutton

In early modern England, dress was a powerful signifier of identity; it indicating characteristics such as gender and class. Joyce de Vries notes that in early modern England clothing and accessories were considered “both constitutive and prosthetic, that is, both detachable and essential to the body and integral to its gendering” (192). Manipulating dress was thereby a means of manipulating not only others’ perceptions of the self, but also of altering the self. Fearing the disturbances that might be caused by disguise and deception, cities “instituted sumptuary laws to sustain the social order,” forbidding citizens from dressing above their status (Vries 192). The signifying role of dress made it incredibly easy to assume a different identity and created anxieties regarding the ability to discern truth from performance. Despite these anxieties, cross-dressing frequently appears as a plot device in Shakespearean comedies—precisely because of its disruptive quality. In examining As You Like It and Twelfth Night, I focus on the use of cross-dressing as it complicates the heterosexual marriages which conclude both comedies. I argue that, while the transvestite heroines create potential for homoeroticism, both Twelfth Night and As You Like It ultimately return to societal convention, presenting queerness as only temporarily acceptable, and only outside the realm of ordinary courtly life, within the safe, male-controlled space of the early modern theatre.

During the early modern period, dress was viewed not only as a signifier of, but also as essential to identity. Vries notes: “Clothing and personal embellishments indicated gender and social status, and accessibility based simply on finances could upset established distinctions” (190). Sumptuary laws introduced during this period indicated the uneasiness regarding these distinctions. Christine Varholy explains: “While the fundamental assumption of such regulations was that clothing could and should accurately present the status of its wearers and thereby preserve social order, the very need for such legislation revealed that clothing as a sign was unreliable” (6). While dress was considered essential to essence, it was an unstable signifier. In examining Viola as a transvestite object of desire, Catherine Thomas notes that “the early modern period may have understood gender in terms of fetishization, with dress as a signifier of this relationship” (308). By way of this fetishization, whereby the embodiment of identity is external to the self, “all attempts to fix gender are necessarily prosthetic... But all elaborations of the prosthesis... can secure no essence” (Thomas 308). Thomas elaborates that according to this “idea of constructed gender through appearance” it is “what ‘seems’” that indicates “what ‘is’” (308). According to this perspective on what constitutes gender, Viola, in her

male costume, taking on the persona of Cesario, is a man. Rosalind as well, “caparisoned like a man,” is a man (AYL 3.2.199). Indeed, Viola appears to interpret her being costumed in male clothes as her being male: “As I am a man / My state is desperate for my master’s love” (TN 2.2.36-37). The early modern conceptions of gender which equate dress with identity create curious situations involving cross-dressing heroines, with curious implications for each play.

With Viola and Rosalind both being perceived as male, their relationships with both female and male characters introduce hints of homoeroticism. In As You Like It, for instance, we see Rosalind desiring Orlando. While this coupling might appear to be heterosexual, their flirtations are complicated by Rosalind’s male disguise as she pretends to be a youth named Ganymede. Desire in the play is further complicated by Phoebe’s infatuation with Ganymede, as she unknowingly pines after and pursues a woman in male clothing. In Twelfth Night, similarly, we see Viola and Orsino’s intimacy seemingly grows even while Viola is still disguised as Cesario. Meanwhile, the Lady Olivia pines after Cesario, not knowing she is desiring a woman until the end of the play, when Sebastian declares, “You are betrothed to both man and maid” (TN 5.1.275). According to Thomas, “Viola’s cross-dressing critically structur[es] the flow of desires in the plot... Constructed as neither absolutely woman nor absolutely man, Cesario complicates any neat definition of his gender or sexual choices,” operating instead within “the eroticized space produced by relationships with Orsino and Olivia” (308). Thomas further notes that on “the narrative level, it is indeterminable whether Orsino is falling for a girl in the semblance of a boy or for a boy who resembles a girl” (308). This ambiguity allows productions of the play to emphasize the hints of homoeroticism in Viola’s wooing of both Olivia and Orsino and in Rosalind’s wooing of both Orlando and Phoebe.

In considering the implications of Orlando and Rosalind’s flirtations, it is important to note that even in his daily wooing of Ganymede as Rosalind, Orlando maintains a distinction between the apparently male figure he thinks he is speaking to and his love interest, Rosalind, whom he believes to be absent from the conversations. Any suggestion of homoeroticism in their interactions is thus compromised. While Rosalind as Ganymede urges Orlando, “call me Rosalind and come every day to / my cote and woo me” (AYL 3.2.434-435), Orlando sees Ganymede only as a placeholder rather than an object of desire, insisting later that he will keep his promise to Rosalind as Ganymede “[w]ith no less religion than if thou wert indeed / my Rosalind” (4.1.209-210). Even as he refers to Rosalind/ Ganymede as “[his] fair Rosalind” (4.1.45), there is a distance, a difference, between the Rosalind he loves and the male-appearing Ganymede he pretends to profess his love to. Additionally, we see this rejection of homoeroticism in Rosalind’s response to Phoebe’s romantic interest: “I pray you, do

not fall in love with me, / For I am falser than vows made in wine” (3.5.77-78). Viola, similarly, is very clearly uninterested in Olivia’s affections, even as she woos her on Orsino’s behalf. After first meeting Olivia, Viola laments the affection: “Poor lady, she were better love a dream. / Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness” (TN 2.2.26-27). Phoebe and Olivia are not infatuated with women, but rather with the guises of men. Any romantic feeling Viola expresses toward Olivia is on Orsino’s behalf, complicating any homoerotic suggestions in Viola and Olivia’s interactions, much as Orlando’s insistence on the acting complicates his wooing of Ganymede. While Orsino urges Viola to “unfold the passion of [his] love” (1.5.26), she is merely acting his affections, not her own, just as Orlando acts his affections for Rosalind toward Ganymede. While the transvestite heroines provide the potential for productions to play up suggestions of homoeroticism, this is entirely dependent on the production. The texts themselves neither promote nor condemn homoromanticism.

While both Twelfth Night and As You Like It play with expectations of gender and desire through the disruptive device of cross-dressing, neither truly challenges gender distinctions. Peter Erickson, in studying sexuality and social structures in As You Like It, states that “[n]either Rosalind nor the play questions the conventional categories of masculine and feminine. Her insistence on the metaphor of exterior (male) and interior (female) keeps the categories distinct and separable” (71).

When first deciding to take on a male disguise for the sake of safety, Rosalind explains that she will have “A gallant curtal-ax upon [her] thigh / A boar-spear in [her] hand, and in [her] heart / Lie there what hidden woman’s fear there will” (AYL 1.3.124-126). There is an established distance between her female self and her male disguise. Viola, similarly, maintains a distance between herself and her male persona, Cesario. Like Rosalind, she employs the metaphor of interior versus exterior after realizing that Olivia has taken interest in Cesario: “Fortune forbid my outside have not charmed her!”

(TN 2.2.18-19). She reveals aspects of her true identity to the audience at many points in the play.

When Feste the Fool prays that Jove might send Cesario a beard, for instance, Viola responds that she is “almost sick for / one,” while adding in an aside that she “would not have it grow on [her] / chin” (3.1.46-50). Her aside indicates that she is not longing to grow a beard, though a male youth such as Cesario might wish to, but rather, that she is lovesick and longs for a man with a beard. Instances such as these reveal the distance between Viola and her male persona of Cesario. While critics such as Thomas insist that the transvestite heroine exists between gender distinctions, Viola herself insists on the distinction, as does Rosalind.

The conclusions of these two plays further cancel out any suggestions of homoeroticism. While Twelfth Night and As You Like It might play with hints of queerness, both ultimately return to social

convention. We see Rosalind relinquish her costume, revealing her true gender and identity, while Viola encounters her twin brother and reveals herself. Erickson notes that “[i]n order to love, Rosalind must reveal herself directly to Orlando, thereby making herself vulnerable... The capacity for love... is compromised by the necessity that she resume a traditional female role in order to engage in love” (70-71). While the male disguise gives Rosalind access to masculine qualities, giving her “freedom of action and empower[ing] her to take the initiative with Orlando... in giving up the disguise, she also gives up the strength it symbolizes” (70-71). According to Erickson, “in the transition from courtship to marriage, power passes from the female to the male” (72). In relinquishing her disguise and arranging her marriage to Orlando, Rosalind orchestrates her own submission. At the end of the play, Rosalind loses access to the male attributes lent to her by her disguise while also losing the power she held during courtship. We see her submission when she addresses her father and Orlando, saying to each, “To you I give myself, for I am yours” (AYL 5.4.120-121). Here she “submits not only to two individual men, but also to the patriarchal society which they embody” (Erickson 72).

This parallels the final scene of Twelfth Night, in which Orsino, upon learning that Cesario is actually Viola, commands: “Give me thy hand, / And let me see thee in thy woman’s weeds” (5.1.279-286).

While Rosalind expresses more agency than Viola in her decision to relinquish her disguise and enter the submissive position of a wife, both heroines ultimately assume this traditional feminine role.

In addition to returning to societal conventions through the stripping of disguise and the celebration of heterosexual pairings, both plays showcase a final return to ordinary courtly life. In her study of unruly women in Shakespearean plays, Penny Gay notes that “comedy represents the ultimate triumph of the idea of the community,” describing the genre as “profoundly conservative: it allows the topsy-turveydom of carnival... as a way of ‘letting off steam’” (2). According to Gay, “[t]he community or audience thus permitted to enjoy its fantasies of disruption will then, after the carnival event, settle back happily into the regulated social order of patriarchy—of which the institution of marriage is one of the most powerful symbols” (2-3). In Twelfth Night the “topsy-turveydom of carnival” takes the form of the Feast of Fools, a highly anti-authoritarian twelve-day festival, while As You Like It finds its liberation in the Forest of Arden. Rosalind and Celia define their journey to the Forest of Arden as one “To liberty and not to banishment” (AYL 1.3.137-138). Erickson notes that “[t]his liberty implies quite specifically overcoming the restrictions of the female role” (70). He goes on to explain that this “liberation which Rosalind experiences in the forest has built into it the conservative counter-movement by which, as the play returns to the normal world, she will be reduced to the traditional woman who is subservient to men” (71). While the Forest of Arden offers Rosalind

and Celia an escape from the gendered restrictions of courtly life, it is only a temporary freedom. The “carnival license” is “allowed only in the magical space of the greenwood. At the end, all must return to the real world and its social constraints” (Gay 49). At the conclusion of As You Like It, the cast of lovers is set to return to the court, while in Twelfth Night, it is apparent that the festivities cannot last, as the Feast of Fools lasts only twelve days. In both cases, cross-dressing, sexual liberties, and social transgressions are shown to be acceptable only in the temporary carnival event, which is distinctly separate from ordinary courtly life.

The acceptability of cross-dressing and homoeroticism is limited not only to these realms of temporary liberation, but also to the realm of theatre. Large anxieties surrounded the manipulation of dress and identity in early modern England, as indicated by the sumptuary laws of the time. In discussing different attitudes regarding cross-dressing in performance and in reality, Christine Varholy finds that such anxieties were alleviated in theatre settings: Generally, comedic plots ensured that audience members were informed of deceptions being perpetrated by cross-class dressers and hence were not at risk to be deceived themselves. As a result, audience members perceived themselves in a comfortable position of superiority and could laugh freely at the various characters on the stage duped by the female figures’ performances. (20) While Varholy focuses on cross-class dressing in brothels and theatres, the same principles can be applied to cross-gender dressing, such as in Twelfth Night and As You Like It. In both plays, the audience is aware of Viola and Rosalind’s true identities from the beginning and, can thus laugh at Phoebe and Olivia’s respective infatuations with false figures, as they are not the ones being deceived.

There is a certain safety in being aware of the plot, as scenarios which normally cause anxiety become comedic. There is further safety in early modern theatre, as it was dominated by men. As Thomas notes, to “an early modern audience... Viola/Cesario registered complexly as a boy, playing a woman, playing a boy” (308). Further complicating things, Rosalind registers as a boy, playing a woman, playing a boy, playing a woman. In both cases, however, a male actor lies underneath the layers of artifice and disguise, emphasizing the deception to the audience. Varholy explains that “identity manipulation in early modern London was perceived as more enjoyable and less dangerous when it was under the control of men” (27). In the absence of women, “[f]ear of women,” according to Erickson, could thus “be encountered in the relatively safe environment of the theatre, acted out, controlled... and overcome” (80).

While As You Like It and Twelfth Night both create opportunities to play up hints of

homoeroticism, neither play actively promotes it. Gay notes that “‘gender’ is not an isolated construct, but dependent on the matrix of discourses of nation, race, class, and age in which it is embedded.

This is true both for the Shakespearean text and for its embodiment in any one production” (13).

While Shakespeare allows for queering, the plays as texts are not essentially queer. As Erickson notes, there is “a studied ambiguity about heterosexual versus homoromantic feeling in [As You Like It,]” whereby “Shakespeare allows himself to have it both ways (or perhaps hovers equivocally between the two as a way of evading full commitment to either)” (80). This is true of both plays, wherein they temporarily take up the guise of queerness, just as Viola and Rosalind temporarily take up the guise of masculinity, only to discard it at the end in order to re-establish and reaffirm societal norms. Any challenge posed to patriarchal convention by the transvestite heroines is ultimately cancelled out by their relinquishing of masculinity and resumption of submissive feminine roles, as well as by their insistence on the distinction between male and female. Viola and Rosalind show themselves to have “one heart, one bosom, and one truth” (TN 3.1.166). Despite any power and agency they enact while in male disguises, they each give up their costumes and the accompanying male privileges, ultimately submitting to individual men and to the patriarchal society to which they belong. The “topsyturveydom” of the Forest of Arden and the Feast of Fools similarly gives way to a return to ordinary courtly life, thereby reminding the audience that they too must return to their reality (Gay 2). As You Like It and Twelfth Night do not subvert gender conventions, nor do they challenge heteronormativity; rather, they uphold and emphasize patriarchal societal structures, hiding their affirmation of these structures behind the entertaining and temporary chaos of carnival antics.

Works Cited Erickson, Peter B. “Sexual Politics and the Social Structure in As You Like It.” The Massachusetts Review, vol. 23, no. 1, 1982, pp. 65-83. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/25089244 Gay, Penny. As She Likes It: Shakespeare’s Unruly Women. Routledge, 1994. ProQuest Ebook Central, https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/west/detail.action?docID=169570.

Shakespeare, William. As You Like It. Edited by Barbara A. Mowat and Paul Werstine, New Folger Edition, Washington Square Press, 2004.

Shakespeare, William. Twelfth Night, or, What You Will. Edited by Barbara A. Mowat and Paul Werstine, New Folger Edition, Washington Square Press, 2004.

Thomas, Catherine. “Nunn’s Sweet Transvestite: Desiring Viola in Twelfth Night.” The Journal of Popular Culture, vol. 41, no. 2, 18 Mar. 2008, pp. 306–320. Scholars Portal, doi:10.1111/j.1540-5931.2008.00504.x.

Varholy, Cristine M. “‘Rich Like a Lady’: Cross-Class Dressing in the Brothels and Theaters of Early Modern London.” The Journal for Early Modern Cultural Studies, vol. 8, no. 1, 2008, pp. 4–34. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/40339588.

Vries, Joyce de. “Fashioning the Self in Early Modern Europe: Gender, Consumption, and Material Culture.” Journal of Women’s History, vol. 23, no. 4, Winter 2011, pp. 187-197. Project Muse, doi:10.1353/jowh.2011.0055.

A View of the Open Sky: Woolf’s Aesthetic Independence from the Patriarchy

By Elizabeth Sak

Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own expresses the patriarchal oppression of woman through six essays on a range of topics as Woolf attempts, in jest, to write a novel titled Woman and Fiction. For the sake of this essay, I will be analyzing the tonal shift in the second chapter, from the defensive arguments to Woolf’s more enduring personal investments. On the surface, the idea of a highly developed aesthetic judgment as the logical culmination of a critique of patriarchy seems absurd. Additionally, if the text being examined was written by another feminist, such as the modern Roxanna Gay or Rebecca Solnit, the absurdity might even hinder the writer’s argument. However, Virginia Woolf’s chapter is more than merely a critique of the patriarchy. Woolf creates a satirical piece that not only displays the ridiculous discrepancy in the education of woman (through male only publications), but also provides an explanation as to the cause of said ridiculousness (insecurity), and recommends a method of escape (financial independence). The chapter concludes with the purpose for realization and rebellion: so that woman may reach a state of aesthetic judgment that signifies true independence, which stands as the call to action and the reason for overcoming such oppression.

The conclusion to the second chapter of A Room of One’s Own is an intentional and logical completion of Woolf’s discussion. It leads from defensive arguments to a presentation of future opportunity that results from breaking free of the restrictions that Woolf addresses throughout the piece. The defensive arguments note the problems with the existence of the patriarchy, but to what end? The development of aesthetic judgment is a reasonable motivation throughout Woolf’s chapter because it provides motive for overcoming a patriarchal society and addresses one of the questions posed by Woolf at the beginning of the chapter: “What conditions are necessary for the creation of works of art?” (Woolf 83). In order for woman to enter a sphere where they can judge for themselves and social barriers to knowledge or money are stripped away, mental expression is made available.

The editors of Modern Criticism and Theory, David Lodge and Nigel Wood, highlight Woolf’s argument, stating that such expression has yet to be achieved by women during Woolf’s time period.

In the introduction to her chapter, Lodge and Wood state: “Exactly what would issue forth when woman actually spoke clearly and without that implicit – or not so implicit – restraint is still in the future, when woman might see themselves free of the male gaze and systems of evaluation” (Lodge and Wood 82). The editors’ note on Woolf’s time period is consistent with the emphasis for a call to action at the conclusion of her argument. It is not enough for Woolf to note the patriarchy is

problematic; explaining the freedom that can be gleaned when men’s controlling role is displaced is the logical next step in her argument. Woolf focuses on the ideal future state, but recognizes the difficulty of speaking ideologically, therefore keeping her speculations brief, tucked into the end of the narrative discussion.

Lodge and Wood also note the inability of woman to escape the “gentility of the sitting room or the drudgery of the kitchen… affects any comparative estimate of aesthetic work between the sexes” (Lodge and Wood 82). They claim the physical barrier has likewise prevented women from being artists, making the aesthetic incomparable. Let us examine the word aesthetic as it is defined by the Cambridge dictionary: “relating to the enjoyment or study of beauty” (Cambridge). Because women have been historically trapped within the physical household, they were restricted from the study of beauty. From the beginning of the chapter, Woolf’s critique of the patriarchy has focused upon the restriction of study placed on females. To be elevated to a state where one can not only study the writings of men, but also the beauty of nature, and draw joy from one’s own judgement, is a state that Woolf strives for all women, and one that she herself has reached through her privileged financial independence and awareness of men’s attempts to constrict her. She notes: “And, as I realized these drawbacks, by degrees fear and bitterness modified themselves into pity and toleration; and then in a year or two, pity and toleration went, and the greatest release of all came, which is freedom to think of things in themselves” (Woolf 91).

Woolf’s moods shift through realization, until finally she can be at ease knowing she is truly free through having the capability for independent thought. To think of things in themselves is to judge beauty aesthetically, a heightened state that on first glance seems out of place with Woolf’s previous direct defensive arguments. This aesthetic focus belongs to its own category and explains the purpose for the difficulties of fighting the patriarchy: to be able to reach a higher state, one that has not yet been seen by women and is freeing. Woolf carefully ties the need for aesthetic judgement back to her patriarchal struggle with a metaphor slandering Milton’s oppressive god figure from Paradise Lost: “Indeed my aunt’s legacy unveiled the sky to me, and substituted for the large and imposing figure of the gentleman, which Milton recommended for my perpetual adoration, a view of the open sky” (91). Without a man to block her view, Woolf is able to rejoice in her freedom. This empowering imagery functions as a call to action and provides purpose for Woolf’s fellow women to rise against oppression, so that they, in turn, may see the sky and their world as their own.

This aesthetic judgment is necessary for the artist, and, as Lodge and Wood point out, is part of the reason we have no female equivalent of Shakespeare: “any woman born with a great gift in the

sixteenth century would certainly have gone crazed, shot herself, or ended her days in some lonely cottage outside the village, half witch, half wizard, feared and mocked” (Lodge and Wood 81-82).

In the sixteenth century, there was no place for women to develop their own aesthetic judgment, and therefore there was no place for women as artists. Even in Woolf’s era, female artists, writers in particular, were clearly restrained, as evident by the hundreds of books written by men about women, while “[w]omen do not write books about men” (Woolf 84).

The tonal shift drastically differs between statements such as the one above and the abstract celebration of aesthetic life at the conclusion of the piece. Rachel Bowbly, professor at University College London, analyzes Woolf’s tone in her criticism of A Room of One’s Own. Bowbly argues that the way in which Woolf describes certain scenes, such as peeking into a store window in chapter five of the text is, characteristic of Woolf’s deceptively drifting method throughout this text. She appears to be giving you simple thoughts as they occur to her, one by one and place by place. In reality, she is changing all the directions and expectations for what counts as a valid way of presenting opinions on erratic elusive, impossible subject of woman and fiction (Bowbly).

Drifting is an excellent way to describe Woolf’s shift between her arguments in the British Museum and those in the nearby restaurant, but this wording especially rings true during her walk home, while contemplating aesthetic judgement. Woolf’s change in direction is fluid and intentional. Her drifting seems a natural progression, an uninterrupted train of thought. This is not lazy writing on the part of Woolf, but a stylistic choice in order to stress the naturalness of her argument. Her approach towards the patriarchy is no longer outraged, but calm and collected, as she begins to move beyond oppression and welcomes the freedom of judgment. In this sense, Woolf’s drifting method is as deceptive, as Bowbly notes, as its perceived casualness has dual purpose: to allow her arguments to bleed together while shifting between them touches on multiple points and to increase her overall persuasiveness.

Woolf closes the piece with a return from the philosophical to her “little street” where “domesticity prevailed” (Woolf 91). Woolf is always playful in tone, careful to take the stereotypical associations placed upon women by men and hyperbolize them to expose their ridiculousness. She discusses several professions contrasting by gender and how they rank in value, drawing parallels between the value hierarchy of the professions and that of the gender fulfilling their tasks. She concludes with what could happen when “womanhood cease[s] to be a protected occupation” (92).

Virginia Woolf understands the uncertainty that will occupy the change she so desires, but believes such change is on its way. “In a hundred years, I thought, reaching my own doorstep, women will

have ceased to be the protected sex.” (91). Woolf’s return to the street grounds the reader after a drift into the ideological. Her certainty of change is a reassurance for her call to action. Woolf’s focus on developing aesthetic judgment is more than a logical culmination of a critique of patriarchy; it is an explanation for the necessity to overcome the patriarchy and a demonstration of her own literary aesthetics.

Works Cited “Aesthetic.” Cambridge Dictionary, dictionary.cambridge.org/dictionary/english/aesthetic.Accessed 24 Feb. 2019.

Bowlby, Rachel. “An Introduction to A Room of One’s Own.” Discovery Literature: 20th Century, British Library, 25 May 2016, www.bl.uk/20th-century-literature/articles/ an-introduction-to-aroom-of-ones-own. Accessed 24 Feb. 2019.

Lodge, David, and Nigel Wood, editors. Modern Criticism and Theory: A Reader. 3rd ed., Routledge, 2008, pp. 81-81.

Woolf, Virginia. “A Room of One’s Own: Chapter Two.” Modern Criticism and Theory: A Reader, Edited by David Lodge and Nigel Wood, Routledge, 2008, pp. 83-92.

An Exploration of How the Self Identifies with Nature

By Shaowda Salehin

Although written a century apart, the theological “Paradise Lost” and the romantic “Tintern Abbey” develop equally descriptive images of a landscape beloved by their speakers. “Paradise Lost” depicts the heavenly Garden of Eden in an assessment of the Christian Genesis story whereas, “Tintern Abbey” romanticizes the desolate and bleak ruins of the English countryside in the Bank of the Wye; yet both poems embellish their settings as dear to their speakers. Wordsworth, himself, in “Tintern Abbey” and the speakers of “Paradise Lost”, Adam and Eve, identify themselves with these natural landscapes through emotional connections. Wordsworth, desperate to cling to his childhood, returns to the same scenic view he once experienced as a young boy, and relives his memories in the sight. Similarly, Adam and Eve retain their innocence and purity by viewing themselves as an extension of the idyllic nature encompassing Eden. Both works employ female characters resembling and personifying their landscapes: Dorothy in “Tintern Abbey” and Eve in “Paradise Lost”.

Additionally, the female and male dependency in the poems metaphorically insists that humans are correlated to nature in a parallel manner. “Paradise Lost’s” and “Tintern Abbey’s” slight divergence from the epic and the ode creates curious conversations regarding the unique relationships of the speakers and their landscapes.

Dorothy and Eve symbolize nature in the poems, though, they vary in their means of representation. Eve, for one, is physically as beautiful as the garden, with similar imagery and hyperbole employed in their depictions. Eve is illustrated as the ethereal and beautiful creation of God, “Shee as a veil down to the slender waist / Her unadorned golden tresses wore / Dishevell’d, but in wanton ringlets wav’d / As the Vine Curls her tendrils” (Milton lines 304-307). Her beauty is obvious, with her perfected and “slender” physique. More interestingly, the use of nature imagery in describing her hair, “Vine Curls her tendrils,” insinuates that her hair is reflective of the curly vines that grow in Eden. “[G]olden,” the colour often associated with all things enamored, is associated with both Eve’s hair and Eden’s sands. “Rolling on Orient Pearl and sands of Gold,” hyperbolizes the novelty of the brooks and creeks, or the bodies of water running through the garden, that share in the beauty of Eve (238). Reaffirming the physical connection with Eve, Eden grows fruits on trees of “Golden Rind” and the immediate image of Eve’s tresses blending against the scenic gold insinuates their oneness (249). By sharing physical traits with the heavenly landscape, Eve is convinced of her own divinity.

Dorothy resembles or assimilates with nature, not physically as Eve, but rather, she is the beholder and safekeeper of the abbey: Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon Shine on thee in thy solitary walk; And let the misty mountain winds be free To blow against thee: and, in after years, When these wild ecstasies shall be matured Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind Shall be a mansion for all the lovely forms Thy memory be as a dwelling place (Wordsworth lines 132-141).

Wordsworth’s perception of the abbey changes from its natural “gloom” and “seclusion” to an enthralling and mystic habitat, or “dwelling”, with “misty mountain winds blowing against [Dorothy]”. Alliterating “misty” and “mountain” further exaggerates the poetic scene with the sudden implementation of a poetic device that remained less in use, or absent, in most verses. Dorothy becomes a beholder of these “wild” natural encounters, as she is requested to store in her mind, the “memor[ies]” in the “after years”. Perceptively, not hearing from her, but only from Wordsworth, the audience recognizes Dorothy, his memory holder, with a vague perception of her secondary characteristics. She serves Wordsworth’s purpose of reconciliation with the land he once neglected as a child, yet desires to remember and reconnect with in his adulthood. Although, his travels limit him from staying in the abbey, he engages with the landscape through his sister, implying that she is really the embodiment of his cherished land. Dorothy and Eve both tie with nature, with Eve as the physical replica and Dorothy capturing the sight in her mind.

The codependent relationship between man and woman in both poems metaphorically assert that the relationship between man and nature is similarly reciprocal. First of all, Adam and Eve are said to be made of each other’s flesh. Professor Noel Sugimura at the University of Oxford criticized that the particular incident of Eve recognizing herself in her reflection in the water is a realization of the self- attachment to Adam, and through Adam, God: So when Eve turns her back on Adam she effectively flees not only the procreative possibilities God has promised her but also the true image she was meant to contemplate through herself and Adam: namely, God. At this point, the lake, with her reflected image, is transformed from a mirror of heavenly sapientia to one of earthly vanitas” (Sugimura 18).

Sugimura argues that Eve’s viewing of herself, in which she becomes deeply immersed, is

really to highlight that she gains wisdom from God’s words or “sapientia”, and then retracts from falling into narcissism. This act becomes a metaphor for “vanitas” or life and death. Eve realizes that her life and death are embedded with Adam in the hyperbolic lines: “His flesh, his bone; to give thee being I lent / Out of my side to thee, nearest my heart Substantial / Life, to have thee by my side” (Milton 483-485). As said by Sugimura, her true identity lies with Adam, and if it be in “procreation” as to fulfil God’s commands, she requires the cooperation of Adam. She is bound to him physically through flesh, and metaphorically, through a deep connection of dependence rather than blood. This again confirms Eve identifying with her surroundings because God communicates her designated role through parts of nature, like the pool of water upon which she looks.

Equally, Dorothy and Wordsworth share the intimate connection of siblinghood, and beyond that, Dorothy is singularly important to Wordsworth’s continuation of memory and life. As Eve, Dorothy is molded for her brother and is proclaimed as his “dearest Friend,” repeatedly like a chant: “My dear, dear Friend” (Wordsworth 115-116). Friend is even capitalized in reference to her identity as solely being his support and stronghold in “Friend” and “Sister”. Dorothy is actually portrayed as this pivotal figure through the use of apostrophe. She serves as the manifestation of Wordsworth’s experiences and memories of the abbey. “May I behold in thee what I was once,” so Dorothy replaces the person Wordsworth is clinging to, her true character, and her speech is, thus, absent from the poem (120). She is a variation of the Wordsworth that the speaker desperately seeks who no longer exists in his mind; he beseeches that she keeps him alive through her memories of the abbey.

In another criticism, Douglas Kneale highlights nature as the similar apostrophe to Dorothy: “Wordsworth has been talking about nature in the opening movement, its ‘‘steep and lofty cliffs,’’ its ‘‘plots of cottage-ground,’’ and its ‘‘wild green landscape,’’ but now he turns from talking about nature to talking to nature. This shift of address is an exemplary case of apostrophe” (Kneale 214).

The apostrophe in this sense relates to nature being an abstract idea, which is directly personified and spoken to with, “How often has my spirit turned to thee!” (Wordsworth 57). Essentially, Wordsworth is addressing the nature that existed a time back, by referencing that he has “turned”, or returned, to this abbey many times prior in his mind. Both Dorothy and the abbey are represented through apostrophes in the sense that Wordsworth speaks to them as though they are there, but he discusses thoughts of the past rather than what he sees in reality. As a result, Dorothy identifies with the abbey in the way that they are both perceived by Wordsworth, in this manner of reminiscence. Wordsworth’s reliance on the landscape for spiritual guidance, and later Dorothy as the keeper of his past self, establishes the dependence of their relationship. The dependency of Wordsworth on Dorothy is

synonymous with his desire to preserve his old self in the abbey.

“Tintern Abbey” and “Paradise Lost” share in that they are dissimilar from their poetic forms, as neither are fully structured odes or epics, respectively. “Tintern Abbey” shares the attributes of a Victorian ode, with a strophe, antistrophe, followed by the epode. The strophe is the beginning verses discussing the present and the antistrophe precedes with a discussion of the “coarser pleasures of [Wordsworth’s] boyish days” (Wordsworth 73). The epode struggles with rectifying the past with future hopes and “...healing thoughts/ Of tender joy wilt [Dorothy] remember..” (Wordsworth 144145). However, some critics have debated on whether “Tintern Abbey” is a poem similar to an ode, but not fully identifiable as so. Douglas Kneale on the matter: It still puzzles interpreters today. When Wordsworth added the note to his poem entitled ‘‘Lines written a few miles above Tintern Abbey, on revisiting the banks of the Wye during a tour, July 13, 1798’’ in the second edition of Lyrical Ballads in 1800, he sent the reader a mixed message. On the one hand, he hopes that ‘‘Tintern Abbey’’ satisfies the requirements of the genre of the ode, but on the other hand he has not risked calling it by its seemingly proper title”. The title is one of the striking details about the poem, as it is extensively long, it is almost like a date, place and entry in a diary. Giving the position of the speaker exactly “a few miles above” the abbey and the context of “a tour,” is rather like the introduction to a story than a title of an ode, which often includes “ode” in its name. The poem then transcends the usual ambiguity of a poet and the audience recognizes the circumstances under which the poem was written; it becomes a personal monologue the audience is invited to hear. As a personal monologue, the descriptions of the abbey then become sentiments of identification, explicit in the following lines: “And what perceive; well pleased to recognize / In nature and the language of the sense / The anchor of my purest thoughts, and the nurse” (107-109).

Differing from just an ode of praise, “Tintern Abbey” is an artwork of “reogniz[ing]” one’s own thoughts of misery and loss in the “deep” and “gloomy wood[s]” of nature. Even more, Wordsworth’s use of “anchor”, as metaphorically representing his deep-rooted connection with the abbey in which he finds his truest or purest thoughts, declares his complete identification with nature.

Similarly, “Paradise Lost” engages the audience in more than that just an epic. The reason why the poem is canonized in English literature is because of its elaborate story; specifically, learned through sound devices in the dialogue of characters. For one, John Milton’s presence in the poem can be felt like Wordsworth’s, if it’s acknowledged that he wrote the poem whilst blind. So, in general, his words neither follow a pictorial structure or pattern, but focus on sound and trajectory. Professor Cynthia Whissel of Laurentian University challenges the audience to “hear” the poem rather than

visually assess: The sounds in “Paradise Lost” communicate meaning in “sub-word elements” (Moynihan, 1958) that enhance the expressiveness of the poem. Eliot (1957), who did not hesitate to denigrate Milton in other ways, described the author’s gifts as “naturally aural” (p. 139) and suggested that Paradise Lost should be read with sight metaphorically blurred “so that our hearing may become more acute,” (Whissel 157).

The “natura[l] aural[ness]” of the poem is actually recognized in the imagery portraying Eden’s caves covered with vines: “Another side, unbrageous Grots and Caves / Of cool recess, o’er which the mantling Vine / Lays forth her purple grape, and gently creeps,” (Milton 257-259). Milton makes use of plosives, specifically “g” repeated, with harsh sounds describing a heavenly sight; most of the poem lacks soft repetitive sibilant sounds used in romantic depictions of nature.

The imagery of the waterfalls in “Tintern Abbey,” and “Paradise Lost,” emphasizes Milton’s use of sound as a way of demanding attention to every word. Wordsworth uses the traditional soft sounds in his romantic work: “These water’s rolling from their mountain-springs / With a soft inland murmur. Once again” (Wordsworth 4). Comparatively, Milton assesses the same “murmur” of the waterfall employing repetitive nasals: “Luxuriant; meanwhile murmuring waters fall,” (Milton 260).

His use of harsher sounds depicts a strong withstanding environment, rather than fragile and somber illustration seen in “Tintern Abbey”. Solely focusing on hearing the poem rather than focusing on stanza structure is ironic because the poem discusses an illustrious place with ample visual pleasures: Eden. Yet Milton does not require the visual attention of the audience because the voicing of nature is more relevant than nature’s beauty. Thus, by encouraging readers to engage in hearing the poem, Milton enforces readers to also hear the voices discussing nature. For instance, the dialogue of Adam explains nature rather than describe it: “While other Animals unactive range / And of their doings God takes no account” (Milton 621-622). The animals that are part of nature and wandering the garden, are below him because God does “take account” of him. The man in God’s image then identifies with nature as one who is above it. So, the voicings of nature, made prominent through sound devices, are absolutely necessary to attend to in Milton’s poetry, as they reveal the identification of the speakers with Eden.

“Paradise Lost” and “Tintern Abbey” both demonstrate the enchantment with a landscape that identifies with the emotions of the individual. Wordsworth connects with the ruins because the land preserves his memories and his past self. On the other hand, Adam and Eve identify with their paradise as it reaffirms their own holiness. Both poems demonstrate the reflection of one’s emotions

in nature, with female characters like Eve and Dorothy embodying their landscapes. Adam and Eve’s relationship demonstrates that the hand of God works through nature, as Eve first recognizes Adam and God by seeing herself in reflection in the form of water. Though not a marriage, Dorothy and her brother, Wordsworth, share a similar bond, in which Dorothy is the safekeeper of Wordsworth’s youth.

Milton and Wordsworth both stray from strict poetic structure and indulge in their own differences from the sanctioned poetic forms. Wordsworth writes openly about his relationship with nature in the form of a monologue and ode hybrid. Whereas Milton writes poetry that exclusively requires the ears of the audience to recognize not just images, but also to listen to the voices and perceptions of Adam and Eve who identify with nature.

Works Cited Milton, John. “Paradise Lost Book IV: Lines 172-735.”Custom Course Book English 1020E”, edited by Kate Stanley, Western University, 2019, p. 7-15.

Wordsworth, William. “Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey”. Elements of Literature.

4thed, edited by Robert Scholes, Nancy R. Comley, Carl H. Klaus and David Staines, Oxford, 2010, 493-496 Kneale, J. Douglas. “Wordsworth, Milton, and a Question of Genre.” Modern Philology, vol. 109, no.

2, 2011, pp. 197–220. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/10.1086/662691 Sugimura, N. K. “Eve’s Reflection and the Passion of Wonder in Paradise Lost.” Essays in Criticism 64.1 (2014): 1-28. Web. 22 July 2019. doi: 10.1093/escrit/cgt029 Whissel, Cynthia. “Sound and Emotion in Milton’s Paradise Lost” . Research Article, Laurentian University. 2011, Volume: 113 issue: 1, page(s): 257-267. SageJournals, https://doi-org.proxy1. lib.uwo.ca/10.2466/04.21.28.PMS.113.4.257-267

Why a True Hedonist Would Choose to Plug into Nozick’s Experience Machine

By Alexandra Sasha Kane

Bentham’s An Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation, conveys hedonistic sentiments. In this essay, I will begin by outlining the basic features of hedonism as they are portrayed

by Bentham. Secondly, I will counter the concept of hedonism by way of Nozick’s experience machine. Next, I will summarize a response to Nozick’s experience machine from the hedonist Hewitt, thereby defending hedonism’s validity. I will conclude this essay by arguing that Hewitt’s response to the experience machine is in opposition to a fundamental hedonist sentiment: that maximizing net pleasure is the most important thing in life.

Jeremy Bentham states, “[n]ature has placed mankind under the governance of two sovereign masters, pain, and pleasure.”1 Hedonism aligns pleasure with the greatest value, because it is the only intrinsic good, meaning pleasure is valuable in itself, and not for any other benefit. Conversely, everything else is instrumentally valuable: it is useful because it provides the means for an end. For Bentham, this “end” is always going to be pleasure, which is intrinsically good, or pain, which is intrinsically bad. All other values, like friendship and money, are instead, instrumentally valuable.

Thus, our decisions should be based on whether their outcome will “augment or diminish the happiness of the party whose interest is in question.”2 In opposition to the above hedonistic view, Nozick proposes a thought experiment with the intent to show that there are values other than pleasure that matter in people’s lives. He does so by propositioning the opportunity to have consistent and ultimate pleasure for the rest of your life; however, “[a]ll the time you would be floating in a tank, with electrodes attached to your brain.”3 This so-called “experience machine” will be constructed with the capacity to provide its users with tailored life experiences, thus guaranteeing the most pleasure.

Hedonists believe that maximizing pleasure is the most important thing in life because pleasure is the greatest good. So, every choice made by hedonists is based in the pursuit of the most pleasure, and the avoidance of pain. Nozick’s experience machine provides exactly this, making it the obvious choice for a hedonist to plug in. Nozick then uses three arguments against plugging into the machine, 1 Jeremy Bentham, An Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1907), 127.

2 Jeremy Bentham, An Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation, 127.

3 Robert Nozick, Anarchy, State, and Utopia (New York: Basic Books, 1974), 42.

proving that there is more to life than experiencing pleasure. His first reason for not wanting to plug into the machine is that, as humans, we value being able to actively do things, which is distinct from the experience of doing them.4 Secondly, Nozick argues that we have a need to “be a certain way;”5 in other words, with the absence of reality, it is impossible to know ourselves as we truly are.

Finally, the experience machine “limits us to a man-made reality,” reasoning that a simulation would be unable to provide a deeper meaning to one’s life. Nozick also offers that, even if a machine was built to remedy each of these problems, there is still an inherent value in real experiences as opposed to machines “living our lives for us.”6 Each of the above arguments provide justification to not plug into the machine, proving there is intrinsic value in things other than pleasure.

Sharon Hewitt’s article What do our intuitions about the experience machine really tell us about hedonism? attempts to prove that Nozick’s thought experiment is not “close to the decisive refutation of hedonism it’s often taken to be.”7 In the interest of space, I will not summarize section 3 or 4 of her article, as it does not relate to my argument against Hewitt.

Before Hewitt responds to Nozick, she clarifies that hedonists are acting in the interest of constant and brief indulgences. She further asserts that hedonists not only consider “the intrinsic goodness and badness of pleasure and pain but also their instrumental value as indicators of future prospects.”8 Meaning that although hedonists’ lives are still motivated by the prospect of maximizing pleasure and minimizing pain, they are also acting with their long-term pleasure and prevention of pain in mind.

In section 2, Hewitt recognizes Nozick’s experience machine, and provides four reasons as to why even a hedonist would not want to plug in. The first reveals that the unreliability of people, and the machine itself, could be a risk to our welfare. Secondly, sitting in a tank wastes one’s opportunity to help and “improve the lives of others.”9 Therefore, if plugged into the machine, we would not have the ability to increase the net amount of pleasure in the real world. Hewitt does mention that Nozick tells the reader to ignore any issues about who is working the machines if everyone is using it.

4 Robert Nozick, Anarchy, State, and Utopia, 43.

5 Robert Nozick, Anarchy, State, and Utopia, 43.

6 Robert Nozick, Anarchy, State, and Utopia, 44.

7 Sharon Hewitt, “What do our Intuitions About the Experience Machine Really Tell Us About Hedonism?” An International Journal for Philosophy in the Analytic Tradition 151, no. 3 (December 2010): 333.

8 Hewitt, “What do our Intuitions,” 333.

9 Hewitt, “What do our Intuitions,” 338.

She examines this possibility in more detail and raises her third argument: if this were the case, then the machine would need to be completely self-sufficient in providing for all humans, avoiding any possible problems that arise. The final reason questions if the machines, while providing for humanity, can also be environmentally friendly. If not, using the experience machine would not be pleasurable.

Despite Hewitt’s above arguments, I argue that she overlooks Bentham’s statement that hedonists must make decisions in favour of “the party whose interest is considered: if that party be the community in general, then the happiness of the community.”10 Bentham develops a formula to calculate if a decision will result in more overall pleasure, while also considering any deficit from pain. To determine the tendency of an act causing greater pleasure or pain, seven elements should be considered: (1) Intensity (2) Duration (3) Certainty or Uncertainty (4) Propinquity or Remoteness (5) Fecundity (6) Purity (7) Extent. I believe that if all elements are considered when deciding, and the resulting pain and/or pleasure is combined, the total of pain caused would be enough justification for a hedonist to choose the experience machine. If a hedonist had the power to plug everyone or no one into the experience machine, the mere existence of past, present, and future pain is reason enough to plug everyone in. Bearing in mind that a hedonist makes their decisions based on the tendency of pleasure or pain, then a true hedonist would plug into the machine, because it guarantees no pain.

In summation, I have outlined the features of hedonism, explained an opposition to hedonism though Nozick’s experience machine. Next, I summarized Hewitt’s response to Nozick, demonstrated that her argument that a hedonist would not plug into the machine, and avoided the position that a hedonist would always choose the option that created the highest net pleasure.

10 Jeremy Bentham, An Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation, 127.

Bibliography Jeremy Bentham, An Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1907), 127-129.

Robert Nozick, Anarchy, State, and Utopia (New York: Basic Books, 1974), 42-45.

Sharon Hewitt, “What do our Intuitions About the Experience Machine Really Tell Us About Hedonism?� An International Journal for Philosophy in the Analytic Tradition 151, no. 3 (December 2010): 331-349.

Whitman’s Nourishment

By Kathleen Roffey

Walt Whitman introduces the word loaf within the first two stanzas of the 1852 edition of “Song of Myself”, quickly setting the posture of both the poem and the author as relaxed or idle. To physically loaf is to lay and observe; Whitman encourages the reader to do this with him. However, loaf is a word with multiple meanings, and Whitman takes full advantage of this. While Whitman predominantly uses loaf as a bodily action, he does not fail to recognize and reference its Oxford English Dictionary definition: “A portion of bread baked in one mass” (OED Online). This definition is referenced when Whitman tells of the farmer’s loaf to look at his crops, which will most likely be turned to bread. By making note of both definitions in “Song of Myself”, Whitman parallels the value of loafing on the grass with the nutritional value of a loaf of bread. By drawing this parallel, Whitman elevates “Song of Myself”, and the very act of loafing, while considering the poetics a necessity of health.

Whitman explores the word loaf, and the act of loafing early on in “Song of Myself,” as he first positions his body: “I loafe and invite my soul / I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass” (Whitman 4-5). Whitman’s notable use of the word loaf instead of another synonym, such as lay, evokes a very particular atmosphere. Whitman does not just stop and lean on the grass momentarily; he loafes on it, taking time to idle and laze in contemplation. This physical sense of loafing in observation continues throughout “Song of Myself,” as Whitman presents a multitude of individual scenes, both internal and external. By section five of the poem, Whitman formally invites the reader to “Loafe with me on the grass, loose the stop from your throat” (85). This invitation stresses not only the importance and value of loafing to Whitman, but also his desire to bring the reader into his world to loaf and observe with him. Whitman’s preferred site to loaf is on the grass, the starting point for his observations, as well as a site where death and life converge in decay and growth. The element of grass is so essential to Whitman’s view, as is the loafing that takes place on it. Whitman’s propensity to loaf, and encourage others to loaf with him, reveals his view of the essentialism of idleness that leads to thought. This is reflected when Whitman states “Space and Time! now I see it is true, what I guess’d at, / What I guess’d when I loaf’d on the grass” (710-711). From these lines, Whitman makes clear his view that loafing is a necessary part of life by allowing for the time to consider the many aspects of the world that he describes in “Song of Myself”. This world, Whitman’s world, cannot be properly observed from the vantage point of chaotic everyday routine.

One must step back, observe, and loaf to fully view all that the universe has to offer.

In “Song of Myself,” Whitman incorporates the word loaf to describe the actions of the body, particularly the body in lazy observation. However, Whitman does not fail to allude to the simpler definition of a loaf of bread. This is done while Whitman describes the varied daily routines of the nation noting, “The farmer stops by the bars as he walks on a First-day loafe and looks at the oats and rye” (272). It is no coincidence that the farmer’s crops are used in the production of baked goods.

The act of loafing becomes connected to not only free thinking, but also daily activities that feed the nation. A loaf of bread is nutritious: it feeds others and sustains life. A bread loaf is also a simple, common food, accessible in the same way that loafing on the grass is. By connecting these two definitions, Whitman emphasizes the value of loafing on the grass, and in conjunction, the value of stopping to consider the people and nature all around. To Whitman, loafing is more than just idleness.

Loafing is an act of health preservation, just as nutritious as a loaf of oat and rye bread. Whitman views “Song of Myself” as more than a poem to read and move past, stating that he will “…be good health to you neverless, / And filter and fibre your blood” (1342-1343). To observe with Whitman, to loaf with him on the grass, is sustaining for both body and mind.

Works Cited “loaf, n.1.” OED Online, Oxford University Press, September 2019, www.oed.com/view/Entry/109425. Accessed 19 October 2019.

Whitman, Walt, and Francis Murphy. Walt Whitman: the Complete Poems. Penguin, 1977.

Hamilton: The Postmodern Revolution

By Diyasha Sen

“Hamilton: An American Musical” is an exemplary work of postmodernism as it has significant ties to major ideologies and histories, and its presentation and production have the intention to incite discourse. The musical personifies two major revolutions: the American Revolution of the 18th century “which flares to life in Lin [Manuel Miranda]’s libretto”, and the avant-garde nature of the show itself “that lets us glimpse [at] the new… America rushing our way” (Miranda & McCarter 10).

“Hamilton: An American Musical” is a biographical musical about the “ten-dollar founding father” that is fast-paced and spans key moments in the prolific politician’s life (Hamilton: An American Musical). The musical possesses an unparalleled sense of sincerity in its libretto; its appeal relies in its ability to thread a powerful tale in spite of the anachronistic style. “Hamilton: An American Musical” is particularly innovative because it implements a fusion of music genres, a unique interpretation of history, and an immensely diverse cast to change the story’s ‘authorship’. The postmodernist approach to the musical transforms a historical tale, and redefines the restrictive parameters of historical storytelling. The styles employed in the musical embraces the multidimensional truths which exist within history, and allows the librettist to exercise some liberties within the narration.

While its popularity and acclaim can be attributed to the fact that it “draws from the breadth of America’s culture”, its impact on the zeitgeist continues the revolution Hamilton began in the 18th century (Miranda & McCarter 11). “Hamilton: An American Musical” encompasses the revolutionary aspects of postmodernism, as it concerns itself with the discursive social, historical and existential reality. Hutcheon often asserts that postmodernism is “resolutely historical and inescapably political”.

Consonantly, Miranda’s musical manifests itself in the form of art, but the libretto inherently questions contemporary structures and the history we choose to recognize.

At the foundation of Hamilton’s story – more so Miranda’s Hamilton than the show’s eponymous leader – is hip-hop. This choice is particularly daring as this genre – and “the beats and verses… culture… language… [and] attitude” associated with it – are employed to represent “an ostensibly white founding father” (Powell). Surprisingly, as a standalone genre, hip-hop itself embodies postmodernism. The genre’s seeds lie in lower-income communities, comprised of poor African-Americans, Latinos, and West Indians in the Bronx; the musical style was later popularized across all the boroughs before becoming the universal phenomenon it is today. Hip-hop is often considered the “soundtrack for defiance” and, despite the unusual comparison, this drive to fight is

aptly represented by the “young, scrappy, and hungry” Alexander Hamilton (Miranda & McCarter 22; Hamilton: An American Musical). Miranda recognizes that Hamilton possesses the qualities of many famous hip-hop artists: an “innate intellect, brashness, unrelenting ambition and a grand tendency to start drama” (Romano). “Hamilton: An American Musical” includes Broadway showtunes and complex orchestral music (a genre that is often inaccessible to poorer communities), but also incorporates hip-hop, rap, and blues. This allows Lin-Manuel Miranda to pay homage to artists who are often excluded from the elite world of dignified musicals. Referents throughout “Hamilton” vary from subway breakdancers in NYC, The Notorious B.I.G., Wu-Tang Clan, to The Last Five Years, West Side Story, and Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street. These references exist for diverse audiences to appreciate and understand the show’s musical base, and to exercise intertextuality. “Hamilton: An American Musical” legitimizes hip-hop and this particular show revolutionizes both the genre and Broadway. The music has a postmodern lens, as it considers how cultural practices eventually manifest themselves in the postmodern condition. The presence of hip-hop in a Broadway musical challenges the privilege which exists within the artistic world.

Furthermore, this stylistic choice marries two drastically different histories: those of rich, white men who pioneered the birth of a nation, and that of poor minorities who constructed a new American culture. “Hamilton: An American Musical” ensures that American history does not belong to a certain group of people; it allows struggling artists and children from the Projects to recognize themselves within their Founding Fathers. Miranda’s musical pushes audiences to engage with hip-hop music – a genre which ensures its listeners are “confront[ed with] race, gender, class, poverty, violence, and the many forgotten people and communities of America” (Powell).

At its core, “Hamilton: An American Musical” strives to capture the current political climate, while maintaining a historical element. Miranda successfully creates an authentic invocation of the past by weaving together important historical details, purposeful diction, and other artistic details.

The historicism employed throughout “Hamilton” is powerful, as it is a pastiche of the American Revolution, while simultaneously parodying important historical figures. Historical pastiche, or parody, relies on its audience to understand the specific code, which is essential to understanding this particular historical period. The show must ensure that the historical reference is not lost on its audience, which presented a challenge for the librettist and set designer, as the American Revolution is best understood by the white American man. Hamilton’s raps stay true to the founding father’s fast-paced, impassioned tone, quickly familiarizing the audience with the character’s personality.

Miranda’s selected vocabulary often considered etymologies in order to carefully wield historicism

throughout the musical (Miranda & McCarter 161). Postmodernism “shows both its critical awareness and its love of history… though often not without irony,” and the musical’s sharp portrayal criticizes the many glorified aspects of history (Hutcheon 164). Miranda’s musical arrangement of the “Ten Duel Commandments” disperses the narration of the song amongst the entire company to signify that duelling, despite its many violent consequences, was perceived as a way of life. Another example can be found in the musical’s scathing, yet charming, portrayal of Thomas Jefferson. The politician’s entrance in act two is characterized by the ensemble scrubbing the floor at his feet and waiting on him; Miranda is reminding his audience that this figure who “articulated liberty so clearly was an active participant in the brutal system of slavery” (Miranda & McCarter 152). In addition to blocking and the libretto, the set for the show is very complicated because it needs to evoke a sense of historicism as well as the present, while remaining specific and generic. The aesthetic of the show matches the schema of a ship (which ties in well with the immigration motif) and uses details of modern-day New York (which also existed in Hamilton’s time) to construct an 18th century town square (39). The set manages to mirror New York City, but not the city during Hamilton’s period, or the current age – it is an “idealized version of itself, independent of time, where people of many races and background dance together” (40). “Hamilton: An American Musical” is “not just selectively retelling history – [it’s] transforming it”; the musical is a defiance of the history that the world has chosen to believe, and challenges the idealistic view of the Founding Fathers (Romano).

“Hamilton” frequently subverts racial roles through one very obvious avenue: the actors it casts. The musical “interrogates the mythos of the American dream, tearing down the idea that ‘America’ emerged from a cultural identity that belongs only to white European immigrants and their descendants” (Romano). It feels incredibly appropriate, in the current political climate, to recognize that American history was exclusively created by migrants (or their descendants); in fact, the line “Immigrants! We get the job done” is arguably one of the most famous lines from the show (Hamilton: An American Musical). An interesting dynamic is prevalent, as the most famous founding fathers – George Washington and Thomas Jefferson – who were slaveowners, are being portrayed by the descendants of slaves; this is another example of Miranda utilizing irony throughout the musical. At the peak of fame for “Hamilton: An American Musical”, Barack Obama – the first black president – was preparing to leave office; as many Americans still struggled to accept his leadership, Miranda’s musical challenged this discomfort by having three black presidents. The Latinx and Black communities (alongside other ethnic communities!) can now claim a history they previously had no right to. Additionally, it alters the cultural landscape of the “theater district [which] has historically

been #BroadwayBeyondSoWhite” (Powell). The first act concludes with the entire company onstage for “Non-Stop”, wearing the uniforms from George Washington’s Continental Army. In that moment, the audience has the “mind-altering experience of watching black and Latino actors, young men and women from communities that have seen their freedom infringed for hundreds of years, win freedom for us all” (Miranda & McCarter 113). Alexander Hamilton is first introduced as a “bastard, orphan, [and the] son of a whore” – essentially, his journey in American history begins as a penniless immigrant (Hamilton: An American Musical). For the contemporary, diverse America which exists today, “Hamilton: An American Musical” challenges the historical narrative which has taught minorities that they are both marginal and inconsequential.

Fundamentally, Miranda’s musical is a “story about America then, told by America now” (Miranda & McCarter 33). The show is a “postmodern metatextual piece” with the intention to “reclaim the canon for the fan” (Romano). The unique postmodernist approach made “Hamilton: An American Musical” well-loved by fans and redefined society’s perspective on history. The musical’s dedicated audience does not love Miranda’s libretto for transforming the Founding Fathers, but because it creates a historical reality which never existed. The musical ties in themes of morality, sentimentality, and liberty without sacrificing the core narrative. American history is “littered with examples of… writers of color having their work subjected to a higher standard of inquiry and criticism”, and “Hamilton: An American Musical” exists as a celebration of the “dismissed and devalued” (Romano). “Postmodernism attempts to be historically aware, hybrid, and inclusive” – a tenet of the movement which remains evident in the show’s vivacious cabinet battles to its grieving ballads (Hutcheon 193). The libretto asks the audience, “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story?”, a wrenching question that disputes the single-faceted history we have been told (Hamilton: An American Musical). “Hamilton: An American Musical” combats modernist hegemony, and allows the vibrant and diverse contemporary America to reclaim its shared history.

Works Cited Hamilton: An American Musical. Performances by Lin-Manuel Miranda, Leslie Odom Jr., Phillipa Soo, and Jonathan Groff. Atlantic Records, 2015.

Hutcheon, Linda. “The Politics of Postmodernism: Parody and History.” Cultural Critique, no. 5, 1986, pp. 179–207., doi:10.2307/1354361.

Miranda, Lin-Manuel, and Jeremy McCarter. Hamilton: The Revolution. Grand Central Pub 2016.

Powell, Kevin. “Hamilton, O.J. Simpson, Orlando, Gun Violence, and What the 4th of July, Alton Sterling, Philando Castile, and the Dallas and Baton Rouge Police Shootings Mean to Me.” Utne, www.utne.com/community/hamilton-oj-simpson-orlando-zl0z1607zsau.

Romano, Aja. “Hamilton Is Fanfic, and Its Historical Critics Are Totally Missing the Point.” Vox, Vox, 4 July 2016, www.vox.com/2016/4/14/11418672/hamilton-is-fanfic-not-historically-inaccurate.

Eve and her Reflection in Paradise Lost: Not Vain, Just Female

By Shelby Hohmann

In discussing whether Eve is fallen before the Fall, it is necessary to acknowledge how her gender affects the issue. As critic Dierdre McChrystal argues in “Redeeming Eve,” Adam and Eve’s gender differences in Paradise Lost affect their relationships and how they interact with the world (492). Due to Eve’s inherently subordinate female position, it is easy for critics, such as Douglas Day in “Adam and Eve in Paradise Lost Book VI,” to make her “carry the blame” for bad things that happen in Paradise Lost (491). An analysis of the lake scene in Book IV of Paradise Lost, which is often used as evidence of her being vain and therefore fallen before the Fall, shows how Eve’s gender inherently affects her interactions with her reflection and demonstrates why this scene does not show that she is fallen before the Fall. Ultimately, Eve’s encounter with her reflection at the lake is not a display of her vanity, but a moment when she attempts to navigate the world and develop her self-identity. While Eve finds comfort in female connection and her own feminine beauty, this does not make her vain. Moreover, Eve’s momentary disobedience of God necessarily displays her female agency and continues the development of her self-identity, which allows her to become a complex female subject rather than a subordinate object. Eve is not vain nor fallen, rather she is a female amidst the male-dominated Paradise Lost.

When Eve first awakes after her creation, she is without knowledge, but immediately desires to begin forming her self-identity, as demonstrated by her “wond’ring where / And what I was, whence thither brought, and how” (Milton, IV. 451-2). Eve is disoriented, not knowing the lake from the sky. Her reflection is the only other ‘person’ in sight, and therefore the “answering looks / Of sympathy and love” they exchange show she has found comfort in this feeling of company. Eve’s language to describe the lake is elevated, calling it “Pure as th’expanse of heav’n,” thus showing that she views this experience as pure, not sinful (IV. 456). In fact, Eve views her admiration of her reflection as a moment of “vain desire” when the voice of God instructs her away from the feminine, her reflection, and towards the masculine, embodied by Adam (Milton, IV. 466).

As McChrystal states, “Eve is born into an already established male society and masculine discourse” and therefore, her having female connection in any form is significant—even if it is with her own reflection (McChrystal, 495). This connection allows Eve to not only understand herself, but also the general female experience. Even though she remains the lone female, her reflection comforts her and alleviates feelings of loneliness. Adam, who is male, causes Eve to be prematurely

removed from her female connection and, thus, from the female experience, which gives reason for her later defiance.

Eve’s naiveté following her creation makes the lake scene an important formative time. In this scene, she is forming relationships with herself, the world, and others—namely Adam and God. Eve’s reflection is important to her formation of self-identity because it displays her internal and external characteristics. Therefore, in interacting with her reflection, Eve is able to visualize her own interiority in a way that may not otherwise be possible. Eve initially sees her reflection as a separate entity, as shown by her stating, “…I started back, / It started back” and recounting the emotion conveyed to her through the looks they exchange (Milton, IV. 462-3). Though Eve learns from God that the reflection is her own, her seeing herself externally allows her to interpret her own emotions without bias; in addition to seeing her own beauty, she sees that she is mild, loving, sympathetic, soft, and ultimately, complex. Through this understanding, Eve begins to form a meaningful self-identity, emphasizing why her character in Paradise Lost surpasses objectification to become a complex female subject.

Without moments demonstrating Eve’s free will, complexity, and interiority—like the lake scene— Eve would not be the fully developed character that Paradise Lost requires. To reduce her interaction with her reflection to a moment of vanity that demonstrates Eve’s fallenness would be to ignore the valuable opportunities of self-discovery, and dismissive of how important this scene is to her character development.

God recognizes that he has made Eve beautiful and should appreciate how this may affect her view of herself. He refers to her as a “fair creature” when he leads her away from her reflection, but does not allow her to take pleasure in the beauty he has given her (IV. 468). Given that God is the one who created her beauty, Eve’s natural reaction of enjoying her reflection should not be considered sinful by God in the first place. Adam similarly examines his body when he is first created, recounting his initial curiosity and fixation on the details of his body in Book VIII: “Myself I then perused, and limb by limb / Surveyed” (Milton, VIII. 267-8). However, since Adam is male, he expresses his desire to understand himself differently than Eve. While Adam examines himself methodically and purposefully, “limb by limb,” Eve’s discovery of herself is driven by emotions, as she exchanges meaningful glances with her reflection. Since Adam occupies the dominant male position and therefore defines what is ‘normal’ in Paradise Lost, he is not criticized for his understandable curiosity in the same way Eve is—even though Adam fixates on himself in a way that is arguably vain.

McChrystal identifies that even though Milton breaks certain patriarchal traditions in making Adam and Eve generally equal in their capacities, Eve is treated unfairly by critics, which explains

why Adam is not called vain for his admiration of himself (McChrystal 492). While Eve continues to occupy an inherently subordinate female position, there is a perpetuation of flawed arguments such as her being vain and fallen, even when Adam, free from such labels, demonstrates similar actions. Eve is consistently “made to carry the blame” for bad things that happen in Paradise Lost, and she is criticized whether she is obedient or not: “her willingness to yield is seen as subservience; her desire for independence as recklessness” (496).

Eve prefers her own appearance over Adam’s upon first meeting him, stating: “…I espied thee, fair indeed and tall, / Under a plantan, yet methought less fair, / Less winning soft, less amiably mild, / Than that smooth wat’ry image” (Milton, IV. 477-80). This preference does not mean Eve is vain—rather, it is a defiance of male domination and the discomfort it causes her. She proceeds turn away from Adam and return to the image she is comfortable with: her own familiar, beautiful, and sympathetic reflection. Eve preferring her own feminine beauty over the “less winning soft” appearance of Adam is a mark of her femininity and criticizing her for this would be misogynistic to some degree. She is a woman who, as Day correctly identifies, has the markedly feminine characteristic of being “highly sensitive to beauty” (371). Although this trait leads to Eve disobeying God briefly by leaving him for herself, her appreciation for feminine beauty—that happens to be her own—is not a vain or sinful trait, but rather a traditionally feminine one. Given Eve’s situation after she is created—alone, bewildered, naive, and most importantly, female—Eve understandably chooses her own reflection over Adam, who is, at the time, an unfamiliar male figure. Eve’s appreciation of her own feminine beauty is not vain and does not make her fallen before the Fall, especially when her own beauty is all she has known at this point in Paradise Lost.

In the discussion of whether Eve is fallen before the Fall, her disobedience God’s of command, “follow me,” is easily reduced to a simple ‘bad’ action that demonstrates her vanity and fallenness (Milton, IV. 469). This view, however, discounts the importance of Eve’s female agency as she follows herself instead of a masculine authority. Masculine characters dominate Paradise Lost, so Eve displaying her agency is essential if she is to have any power within the poem; as McChrystal identifies: “it is within this [masculine] community and this [masculine] discourse, where she is the sole female, that Eve must find and assert her own voice” (495). Ultimately, Eve being a complete, complex character rather than just a female who is only recognized “in relation to men” requires her to display agency (494). Even though she continues to occupy a naturally subordinate position within Paradise Lost’s patriarchal hierarchy, in the lake scene Eve able to assert herself and disobey male commands, exercising her agency and propelling her character

development (McChrystal 498). Not only is Eve leaving Adam for herself understandable given the previous circumstances, but it is necessary for her to become a complex female subject. The significance of Eve’s character development and her formation of self-identity offset any sinful intentions, therefore demonstrating why this momentary disobedience does not signify her being fallen before the Fall.

Although Milton is not a modern feminist, Eve is a complex female subject within Paradise Lost. The lake scene serves to develop Eve’s character and demonstrate that she is a complex female subject, not that she is vain or fallen before the Fall. As McChrystal’s article “Redeeming Eve” summarizes, critics often take a reductive view of Eve, blaming her because she is in the subordinate female position and therefore the easiest character to criticize. This unfair treatment of Eve is often practiced in relation to Book IV’s lake scene, which is used as evidence of Eve’s vanity and fallenness. However, the lake scene is when Eve begins to form her self-identity, has female connection, and shows her agency. It may be easy to initially reduce Eve’s interactions with her reflection to simply being morally wrong and narcissistic, but a further analysis of the circumstances she is affected by—most notably her gender—reveals why her actions are justified, thus demonstrating that the lake scene is not sufficient evidence for Eve being fallen before the Fall.

Works Cited McChrystal, Deirdre. “Redeeming Eve.” English Literary Renaissance, vol. 23, no. 3, Autumn

1993, pp. 490-508.

Day, Douglas. “Adam and Eve in Paradise Lost Book IV.” Texas Studies in Literature and Language, vol. 3, no. 3, Autumn 1961, pp. 369-81.

Milton, John. Paradise Lost. Edited by John Leonard. Penguin, 2000, London.