The Want for Androgyny Verus the Reality of Sexism in Modern Academia in Possession by

The Want for Androgyny Versus the Reality of Sexism in Modern Academia in Possession

RHEA MAHAJAN '22

The sectors of gender and profession have always been intrinsically intertwined: especially for women. There is almost always a double-take that occurs, even in modern times, when a female has elected to pursue a traditionally male-dominated path. In the novel Possession by A. S. Byatt, there are many such female scholars that strive to break gender roles and create new social and professional boundaries. Of these, some are more successful than others. The portrayal of the careers of Maud Bailey and Leonora Stern prove that they were able to, at least somewhat, successfully push through the haze of male dominance- though not without considerable struggle. However, Beatrice Nest and Val were both stuck in the unlucky position of not claiming such advancement for themselves. Regardless of what resulted from their efforts, one detail that all these characters share is their wish for an ungendered environment in which to work. Androgyny, in the traditional sense of the word, is the expression of being mentally and emotionally (and in some cases, physically) both male and female. However, in context of this novel, it can be argued that an alternate definition be formed: the wish of females to be known for their work out of context of their gender. The oppressive nature of the world of academia is both restrictive and stifling for the female scholars of Possession, and they each have dealt with this obstruction in differing ways- some more successful than others. Dr. Maud Bailey plays the role of Christabel LaMotte’s parallel in modern times. Not only are they both related - Maud’s “great-great-grandmother” was Christabel’s “daughter, May” (Byatt 471) - but they both share a connection with the poet Randolph Henry Ash. Maud’s main field of study is on Christabel herself and she is very successful: being one of two of the leading scholars on this particular subject matter. But regardless of how fortunate her career prospects have been, Maud has faced considerable sexism: specifically connected to her hair. Maud’s locks are a very unique color, resembling “streaked and polished oval stones, celandine yellow, straw-yellow, silvery yellow, glossy with restricted life” (Byatt 295). The hue of her hair led to some feminists at a conference to hiss at her, for they assumed it “to be the seductive and marketable product of an inhumanely tested bottle” (Byatt 64) and dyed “to please men” (Byatt 295). Neither accusation was true, but nonetheless, Maud ends up keeping her hair shaved throughout her teaching days so as not to be attacked again. Maud should not have to face criticism for her appearance — whether or not it was altered from its natural state — but because of the male majority serving as an overwhelming shadow, there is no way to escape the sexism. Though Fergus convinces her on a bet to grow it out, the way Fergus persuades her is through gaslighting, saying that “the shaved style was a cop-out, a concession…made me [her] look like a skull” (Byatt 295). Goading Maud into doing something that will revert her back to looking like a typical female is a rather sexist and selfish move, yet very much in line with the happenings of the academic realm in this time period. The other of the two leading scholars on Christabel cannot be more different than the first. Professor Leonora Stern is described to be nearly the exact opposite of Maud: “a majestically large woman…[with] olive skin…an imposing nose, a full mouth, with a hint of Africa in the lips, and a mass of thick black, waving hair, worn shoulder-length and alive with natural oils” (Byatt 337). This somewhat-stereotypical description of her character continues, stating that Leonora “originated in Baton Rouge and claimed both Creole and native Indian ancestry” and is an extremely extroverted, openly sexual being with an “expansive prescence” (Byatt 337). Regardless of the differences in their physical nature and personality, and beyond their friendship, one concrete commonality between Maud and Leonora is their successful academic career. Dr. Stern is the author of multiple publications, including Christabel LaMotte: a Selection of Narrative and Lyric Poems and Motif and Matrix in the Poems of LaMotte. Though not much has been described about Leonora’s journey to where she is today, it can be presumed that she has had quite some difficulty studying a British poet, being both an American and a woman. She is also the most sexualized amongst all the female scholars in the novel. In one instance, Professor Blackadder smells “...a perfume of musk and sandalwood and something sharp that affected Blackadder in contradictory ways. He believed he found it suffocating. Underneath he sensed something else, a promise of darkness, thickness, flesh. He looked down once or twice at Leonora’s naked expanse of shoulders and bound breasts…He found these moving” (Byatt 461). Leonora chooses to embrace the sexism and sexualization in her walk of life, and instead chooses to throw it back in everyone's faces, egging them on by wearing “resplendent and barbaric” (Byatt 434) clothing and acting in a manner that befits the attire. It can be assumed that though she would welcome a career in which sexism was not something she had to deal with (if only for the sakes of other female scholars, like her friend Maud), Leonora is still very successful and carries on in her admirably brazen manner, poking fun at the English and their (compared to Americans) stuffy ways. The world of academia during the early twentieth century was not the most ideal time for a woman to be a scholar. Often, female students were treated condescendingly, (a little) spitefully, and generally patronized by their institution. Dr. Beatrice Nest tells Maud about her time in “the late 1960s…[when] women were not permitted to enter the main Senior Common Room at Prince Albert College” and instead had to stay in their own room “which was small and slightly pretty” (Byatt 240). First of all, being barred from spaces on account of one’s gender is exceptionally sexist; and second of all, making the women’s room more dainty and elegant to fit what the men perceived to be what the women wanted is both ridiculous and supercilious of them. The female scholars were also often excluded from important academic happenings (let alone the social ones) within the department. Beatrice goes on to explain to Maud how “everything was decided in the pub — everything of import — where we were not invited and did not wish to go. I hate smoke and the smell of beer. But [I] should not therefore be excluded from discussing departmental policy” (Byatt 241). It can be assumed that Beatrice’s dislike for these experiences, a sentiment that was most likely shared by her compatriots, was partially why the department men chose to continue holding meetings at the pub: because they were sure that the location would deter any of their female colleagues from coming and participating in the discourse. The fact that any pub scenes with a group are automatically more enjoyable was just a bonus. Besides being excluded from department-wide, sans-women occurrences, as a result of the male-dominated state of affairs in the early twentieth century, Beatrice’s original academic interest in Randolph Henry Ash was ignored and she was instead pushed towards studying Ellen Ash, the great poet’s wife — and someone who was thought to be a better fit for a female scholar. Even Beatrice’s mentor, Professor Bengtsson, “suggested she