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For a long time, academic feminism in America has been closely allied to the practical struggle to achieve justice and equality for women. Feminist theory has been understood by theorists as not just fancy words on paper; theory is connected to proposals for social change. Thus feminist scholars have engaged in many concrete projects: the reform of rape law; winning attention and legal redress for the problems of domestic violence and sexual harassment; improving women’s economic opportunities, working conditions, and education; winning pregnancy benefits for female workers; campaigning against the trafficking of women and girls in prostitution; working for the social and political equality of lesbians and gay men.

Indeed, some theorists have left the academy altogether, feeling more comfortable in the world of practical politics, where they can address these urgent problems directly. Those who remain in the academy have frequently made it a point of honor to be academics of a committed practical sort, eyes always on the material conditions of real women, writing always in a way that acknowledges those real bodies and those real struggles. One cannot read a page of Catharine MacKinnon, for example, without being engaged with a real issue of legal and institutional change. If one disagrees with her proposals--and many feminists disagree with them--the challenge posed by her writing is to find some other way of solving the problem that has been vividly delineated.

Feminists have differed in some cases about what is bad, and about what is needed to make things better; but all have agreed that the circumstances of women are often unjust and that law and political action can make them more nearly just. MacKinnon, who portrays hierarchy and subordination as endemic to our entire culture, is also committed to, and cautiously optimistic about, change through law--the domestic law of rape and sexual harassment and international human rights law. Even Nancy Chodorow, who, in The Reproduction of Mothering, offered a depressing account of the replication of oppressive gender categories in child-rearing, argued that this situation could change. Men and women could decide, understanding the unhappy consequences of these habits, that they will henceforth do things differently; and changes in laws and institutions can assist in such decisions.

Feminist theory still looks like this in many parts of the world. In India, for example, academic feminists have thrown themselves into practical struggles, and feminist theorizing is closely tethered to practical commitments such as female literacy, the reform of unequal land laws, changes in rape law (which, in India today, has most of the flaws that the first generation of American feminists targeted), the effort to get social recognition for problems of sexual harassment and domestic violence. These feminists know that they live in the middle of a fiercely unjust reality; they cannot live with themselves without addressing it more or less daily, in their theoretical writing and in their activities outside the seminar room.

In the United States, however, things have been changing. One observes a new, disquieting trend. It is not only that feminist theory pays relatively little attention to the struggles of women outside the United States. (This was always a dispiriting feature even of much of the best work of the earlier period.) Something more insidious than provincialism has come to prominence in the American academy. It is the virtually complete turning from the material side of life, toward a type of verbal and symbolic politics that makes only the flimsiest of connections with the real situation of real women.

Feminist thinkers of the new symbolic type would appear to believe that the way to do feminist politics is to use words in a subversive way, in academic publications of lofty obscurity and disdainful abstractness. These symbolic gestures, it is believed, are themselves a form of political resistance; and so one need not engage with messy things such as legislatures and movements in order to act daringly. The new feminism, moreover, instructs its members that there is little room for large-scale social change, and maybe no room at all. We are all, more or less, prisoners of the structures of power that have defined our identity as women; we can never change those structures in a large-scale way, and we can never escape from them. All that we can hope to do is to find spaces within the structures of power in which to parody them, to poke fun at them, to transgress them in speech. And so symbolic verbal politics, in addition to being offered as a type of real politics, is held to be the only politics that is really possible.

These developments owe much to the recent prominence of French postmodernist thought. Many young feminists, whatever their concrete affiliations with this or that French thinker, have been influenced by the extremely French idea that the intellectual does politics by speaking seditiously, and that this is a significant type of political action. Many have also derived from the writings of Michel Foucault (rightly or wrongly) the fatalistic idea that we are prisoners of an all-enveloping structure of power, and that real-life reform movements usually end up serving power in new and insidious ways. Such feminists therefore find comfort in the idea that the subversive use of words is still available to feminist intellectuals. Deprived of the hope of larger or more lasting changes, we can still perform our resistance by the reworking of verbal categories, and thus, at the margins, of the selves who are constituted by them.

One American feminist has shaped these developments more than any other. Judith Butler seems to many young scholars to define what feminism is now. Trained as a philosopher, she is frequently seen (more by people in literature than by philosophers) as a major thinker about gender, power, and the body. As we wonder what has become of old-style feminist politics and the material realities to which it was committed, it seems necessary to reckon with Butler’s work and influence, and to scrutinize the arguments that have led so many to adopt a stance that looks very much like quietism and retreat.

II.

It is difficult to come to grips with Butler’s ideas, because it is difficult to figure out what they are. Butler is a very smart person. In public discussions, she proves that she can speak clearly and has a quick grasp of what is said to her. Her written style, however, is ponderous and obscure. It is dense with allusions to other theorists, drawn from a wide range of different theoretical traditions. In addition to Foucault, and to a more recent focus on Freud, Butler’s work relies heavily on the thought of Louis Althusser, the French lesbian theorist Monique Wittig, the American anthropologist Gayle Rubin, Jacques Lacan, J.L. Austin, and the American philosopher of language Saul Kripke. These figures do not all agree with one another, to say the least; so an initial problem in reading Butler is that one is bewildered to find her arguments buttressed by appeal to so many contradictory concepts and doctrines, usually without any account of how the apparent contradictions will be resolved.

A further problem lies in Butler’s casual mode of allusion. The ideas of these thinkers are never described in enough detail to include the uninitiated (if you are not familiar with the Althusserian concept of “interpellation,” you are lost for chapters) or to explain to the initiated how, precisely, the difficult ideas are being understood. Of course, much academic writing is allusive in some way: it presupposes prior knowledge of certain doctrines and positions. But in both the continental and the Anglo-American philosophical traditions, academic writers for a specialist audience standardly acknowledge that the figures they mention are complicated, and the object of many different interpretations. They therefore typically assume the responsibility of advancing a definite interpretation among the contested ones, and of showing by argument why they have interpreted the figure as they have, and why their own interpretation is better than others.

We find none of this in Butler. Divergent interpretations are simply not considered--even where, as in the cases of Foucault and Freud, she is advancing highly contestable interpretations that would not be accepted by many scholars. Thus one is led to the conclusion that the allusiveness of the writing cannot be explained in the usual way, by positing an audience of specialists eager to debate the details of an esoteric academic position. The writing is simply too thin to satisfy any such audience. It is also obvious that Butler’s work is not directed at a non-academic audience eager to grapple with actual injustices. Such an audience would simply be baffled by the thick soup of Butler’s prose, by its air of in-group knowingness, by its extremely high ratio of names to explanations.

To whom, then, is Butler speaking? It would seem that she is addressing a group of young feminist theorists in the academy who are neither students of philosophy, caring about what Althusser and Freud and Kripke really said, nor outsiders, needing to be informed about the nature of their projects and persuaded of their worth. This implied audience is imagined as remarkably docile. Subservient to the oracular voice of Butler’s text, and dazzled by its patina of high-concept abstractness, the imagined reader poses few questions, requests no arguments and no clear definitions of terms.

Still more strangely, the implied reader is expected not to care greatly about Butler’s own final view on many matters. For a large proportion of the sentences in any book by Butler--especially sentences near the end of chapters--are questions. Sometimes the answer that the question expects is evident. But often things are much more indeterminate. Among the non-interrogative sentences, many begin with “Consider…” or “One could suggest…”--in such a way that Butler never quite tells the reader whether she approves of the view described. Mystification as well as hierarchy are the tools of her practice, a mystification that eludes criticism because it makes few definite claims.

Take two representative examples:

What does it mean for the agency of a subject to presuppose its own subordination? Is the act of presupposing the same as the act of reinstating, or is there a discontinuity between the power presupposed and the power reinstated? Consider that in the very act by which the subject reproduces the conditions of its own subordination, the subject exemplifies a temporally based vulnerability that belongs to those conditions, specifically, to the exigencies of their renewal.

And:

Such questions cannot be answered here, but they indicate a direction for thinking that is perhaps prior to the question of conscience, namely, the question that preoccupied Spinoza, Nietzsche, and most recently, Giorgio Agamben: How are we to understand the desire to be as a constitutive desire? Resituating conscience and interpellation within such an account, we might then add to this question another: How is such a desire exploited not only by a law in the singular, but by laws of various kinds such that we yield to subordination in order to maintain some sense of social “being”?

Why does Butler prefer to write in this teasing, exasperating way? The style is certainly not unprecedented. Some precincts of the continental philosophical tradition, though surely not all of them, have an unfortunate tendency to regard the philosopher as a star who fascinates, and frequently by obscurity, rather than as an arguer among equals. When ideas are stated clearly, after all, they may be detached from their author: one can take them away and pursue them on one’s own. When they remain mysterious (indeed, when they are not quite asserted), one remains dependent on the originating authority. The thinker is heeded only for his or her turgid charisma. One hangs in suspense, eager for the next move. When Butler does follow that “direction for thinking,” what will she say? What does it mean, tell us please, for the agency of a subject to presuppose its own subordination? (No clear answer to this question, so far as I can see, is forthcoming.) One is given the impression of a mind so profoundly cogitative that it will not pronounce on anything lightly: so one waits, in awe of its depth, for it finally to do so.

In this way obscurity creates an aura of importance. It also serves another related purpose. It bullies the reader into granting that, since one cannot figure out what is going on, there must be something significant going on, some complexity of thought, where in reality there are often familiar or even shopworn notions, addressed too simply and too casually to add any new dimension of understanding. When the bullied readers of Butler’s books muster the daring to think thus, they will see that the ideas in these books are thin. When Butler’s notions are stated clearly and succinctly, one sees that, without a lot more distinctions and arguments, they don’t go far, and they are not especially new. Thus obscurity fills the void left by an absence of a real complexity of thought and argument.

Last year Butler won the first prize in the annual Bad Writing Contest sponsored by the journal Philosophy and Literature, for the following sentence:

The move from a structuralist account in which capital is understood to structure social relations in relatively homologous ways to a view of hegemony in which power relations are subject to repetition, convergence, and rearticulation brought the question of temporality into the thinking of structure, and marked a shift from a form of Althusserian theory that takes structural totalities as theoretical objects to one in which the insights into the contingent possibility of structure inaugurate a renewed conception of hegemony as bound up with the contingent sites and strategies of the rearticulation of power.

Now, Butler might have written: “Marxist accounts, focusing on capital as the central force structuring social relations, depicted the operations of that force as everywhere uniform. By contrast, Althusserian accounts, focusing on power, see the operations of that force as variegated and as shifting over time.” Instead, she prefers a verbosity that causes the reader to expend so much effort in deciphering her prose that little energy is left for assessing the truth of the claims. Announcing the award, the journal’s editor remarked that “it’s possibly the anxiety-inducing obscurity of such writing that has led Professor Warren Hedges of Southern Oregon University to praise Judith Butler as `probably one of the ten smartest people on the planet.’” (Such bad writing, incidentally, is by no means ubiquitous in the “queer theory” group of theorists with which Butler is associated. David Halperin, for example, writes about the relationship between Foucault and Kant, and about Greek homosexuality, with philosophical clarity and historical precision.)

Butler gains prestige in the literary world by being a philosopher; many admirers associate her manner of writing with philosophical profundity. But one should ask whether it belongs to the philosophical tradition at all, rather than to the closely related but adversarial traditions of sophistry and rhetoric. Ever since Socrates distinguished philosophy from what the sophists and the rhetoricians were doing, it has been a discourse of equals who trade arguments and counter-arguments without any obscurantist sleight-of-hand. In that way, he claimed, philosophy showed respect for the soul, while the others’ manipulative methods showed only disrespect. One afternoon, fatigued by Butler on a long plane trip, I turned to a draft of a student’s dissertation on Hume’s views of personal identity. I quickly felt my spirits reviving. Doesn’t she write clearly, I thought with pleasure, and a tiny bit of pride. And Hume, what a fine, what a gracious spirit: how kindly he respects the reader’s intelligence, even at the cost of exposing his own uncertainty.

III.

Butler’s main idea, first introduced in Gender Trouble in 1989 and repeated throughout her books, is that gender is a social artifice. Our ideas of what women and men are reflect nothing that exists eternally in nature. Instead they derive from customs that embed social relations of power.

This notion, of course, is nothing new. The denaturalizing of gender was present already in Plato, and it received a great boost from John Stuart Mill, who claimed in The Subjection of Women that “what is now called the nature of women is an eminently artificial thing.” Mill saw that claims about “women’s nature” derive from, and shore up, hierarchies of power: womanliness is made to be whatever would serve the cause of keeping women in subjection, or, as he put it, “enslav[ing] their minds.” With the family as with feudalism, the rhetoric of nature itself serves the cause of slavery. “The subjection of women to men being a universal custom, any departure from it quite naturally appears unnatural…. But was there ever any domination which did not appear natural to those who possessed it?”

Mill was hardly the first social constructionist. Similar ideas about anger, greed, envy, and other prominent features of our lives had been commonplace in the history of philosophy since ancient Greece. And Mill’s application of familiar notions of social-construction to gender needed, and still needs, much fuller development; his suggestive remarks did not yet amount to a theory of gender. Long before Butler came on the scene, many feminists contributed to the articulation of such an account.

In work published in the 1970s and 1980s, Catharine MacKinnon and Andrea Dworkin argued that the conventional understanding of gender roles is a way of ensuring continued male domination in sexual relations, as well as in the public sphere. They took the core of Mill’s insight into a sphere of life concerning which the Victorian philosopher had said little. (Not nothing, though: in 1869 Mill already understood that the failure to criminalize rape within marriage defined woman as a tool for male use and negated her human dignity.) Before Butler, MacKinnon and Dworkin addressed the feminist fantasy of an idyllic natural sexuality of women that only needed to be “liberated”; and argued that social forces go so deep that we should not suppose we have access to such a notion of “nature.” Before Butler, they stressed the ways in which male-dominated power structures marginalize and subordinate not only women, but also people who would like to choose a same-sex relationship. They understood that discrimination against gays and lesbians is a way of enforcing the familiar hierarchically ordered gender roles; and so they saw discrimination against gays and lesbians as a form of sex discrimination.

Before Butler, the psychologist Nancy Chodorow gave a detailed and compelling account of how gender differences replicate themselves across the generations: she argued that the ubiquity of these mechanisms of replication enables us to understand how what is artificial can nonetheless be nearly ubiquitous. Before Butler, the biologist Anne Fausto Sterling, through her painstaking criticism of experimental work allegedly supporting the naturalness of conventional gender distinctions, showed how deeply social power-relations had compromised the objectivity of scientists: Myths of Gender (1985) was an apt title for what she found in the biology of the time. (Other biologists and primatologists also contributed to this enterprise.) Before Butler, the political theorist Susan Moller Okin explored the role of law and political thought in constructing a gendered destiny for women in the family; and this project, too, was pursued further by a number of feminists in law and political philosophy. Before Butler, Gayle Rubin’s important anthropological account of subordination, The Traffic in Women (1975), provided a valuable analysis of the relationship between the social organization of gender and the asymmetries of power.

So what does Butler’s work add to this copious body of writing? Gender Trouble and Bodies that Matter contain no detailed argument against biological claims of “natural” difference, no account of mechanisms of gender replication, and no account of the legal shaping of the family; nor do they contain any detailed focus on possibilities for legal change. What, then, does Butler offer that we might not find more fully done in earlier feminist writings? One relatively original claim is that when we recognize the artificiality of gender distinctions, and refrain from thinking of them as expressing an independent natural reality, we will also understand that there is no compelling reason why the gender types should have been two (correlated with the two biological sexes), rather than three or five or indefinitely many. “When the constructed status of gender is theorized as radically independent of sex, gender itself becomes a free-floating artifice,” she writes.

From this claim it does not follow, for Butler, that we can freely reinvent the genders as we like: she holds, indeed, that there are severe limits to our freedom. She insists that we should not naively imagine that there is a pristine self that stands behind society, ready to emerge all pure and liberated: “There is no self that is prior to the convergence or who maintains `integrity’ prior to its entrance into this conflicted cultural field. There is only a taking up of the tools where they lie, where the very `taking up’ is enabled by the tool lying there.” Butler does claim, though, that we can create categories that are in some sense new ones, by means of the artful parody of the old ones. Thus her best known idea, her conception of politics as a parodic performance, is born out of the sense of a (strictly limited) freedom that comes from the recognition that one’s ideas of gender have been shaped by forces that are social rather than biological. We are doomed to repetition of the power structures into which we are born, but we can at least make fun of them; and some ways of making fun are subversive assaults on the original norms.

The idea of gender as performance is Butler’s most famous idea, and so it is worth pausing to scrutinize it more closely. She introduced the notion intuitively, in Gender Trouble, without invoking theoretical precedent. Later she denied that she was referring to quasi-theatrical performance, and associated her notion instead with Austin’s account of speech acts in How to Do Things with Words. Austin’s linguistic category of “performatives” is a category of linguistic utterances that function, in and of themselves, as actions rather than as assertions. When (in appropriate social circumstances) I say “I bet ten dollars,” or “I’m sorry,” or “I do” (in a marriage ceremony), or “I name this ship…,” I am not reporting on a bet or an apology or a marriage or a naming ceremony, I am conducting one.

Butler’s analogous claim about gender is not obvious, since the “performances” in question involve gesture, dress, movement, and action, as well as language. Austin’s thesis, which is restricted to a rather technical analysis of a certain class of sentences, is in fact not especially helpful to Butler in developing her ideas. Indeed, though she vehemently repudiates readings of her work that associate her view with theater, thinking about the Living Theater’s subversive work with gender seems to illuminate her ideas far more than thinking about Austin.

Nor is Butler’s treatment of Austin very plausible. She makes the bizarre claim that the fact that the marriage ceremony is one of dozens of examples of performatives in Austin’s text suggests “that the heterosexualization of the social bond is the paradigmatic form for those speech acts which bring about what they name.” Hardly. Marriage is no more paradigmatic for Austin than betting or ship-naming or promising or apologizing. He is interested in a formal feature of certain utterances, and we are given no reason to suppose that their content has any significance for his argument. It is usually a mistake to read earth-shaking significance into a philosopher’s pedestrian choice of examples. Should we say that Aristotle’s use of a low-fat diet to illustrate the practical syllogism suggests that chicken is at the heart of Aristotelian virtue? Or that Rawls’s use of travel plans to illustrate practical reasoning shows that A Theory of Justice aims at giving us all a vacation?

Leaving these oddities to one side, Butler’s point is presumably this: when we act and speak in a gendered way, we are not simply reporting on something that is already fixed in the world, we are actively constituting it, replicating it, and reinforcing it. By behaving as if there were male and female “natures,” we co-create the social fiction that these natures exist. They are never there apart from our deeds; we are always making them be there. At the same time, by carrying out these performances in a slightly different manner, a parodic manner, we can perhaps unmake them just a little.

Thus the one place for agency in a world constrained by hierarchy is in the small opportunities we have to oppose gender roles every time they take shape. When I find myself doing femaleness, I can turn it around, poke fun at it, do it a little bit differently. Such reactive and parodic performances, in Butler’s view, never destabilize the larger system. She doesn’t envisage mass movements of resistance or campaigns for political reform; only personal acts carried out by a small number of knowing actors. Just as actors with a bad script can subvert it by delivering the bad lines oddly, so too with gender: the script remains bad, but the actors have a tiny bit of freedom. Thus we have the basis for what, in Excitable Speech, Butler calls “an ironic hopefulness.”

Up to this point, Butler’s contentions, though relatively familiar, are plausible and even interesting, though one is already unsettled by her narrow vision of the possibilities for change. Yet Butler adds to these plausible claims about gender two other claims that are stronger and more contentious. The first is that there is no agent behind or prior to the social forces that produce the self. If this means only that babies are born into a gendered world that begins to replicate males and females almost immediately, the claim is plausible, but not surprising: experiments have for some time demonstrated that the way babies are held and talked to, the way their emotions are described, are profoundly shaped by the sex the adults in question believe the child to have. (The same baby will be bounced if the adults think it is a boy, cuddled if they think it is a girl; its crying will be labeled as fear if the adults think it is a girl, as anger if they think it is a boy.) Butler shows no interest in these empirical facts, but they do support her contention.

If she means, however, that babies enter the world completely inert, with no tendencies and no abilities that are in some sense prior to their experience in a gendered society, this is far less plausible, and difficult to support empirically. Butler offers no such support, preferring to remain on the high plane of metaphysical abstraction. (Indeed, her recent Freudian work may even repudiate this idea: it suggests, with Freud, that there are at least some presocial impulses and tendencies, although, typically, this line is not clearly developed.) Moreover, such an exaggerated denial of pre-cultural agency takes away some of the resources that Chodorow and others use when they try to account for cultural change in the direction of the better.

Butler does in the end want to say that we have a kind of agency, an ability to undertake change and resistance. But where does this ability come from, if there is no structure in the personality that is not thoroughly power’s creation? It is not impossible for Butler to answer this question, but she certainly has not answered it yet, in a way that would convince those who believe that human beings have at least some pre-cultural desires--for food, for comfort, for cognitive mastery, for survival--and that this structure in the personality is crucial in the explanation of our development as moral and political agents. One would like to see her engage with the strongest forms of such a view, and to say, clearly and without jargon, exactly why and where she rejects them. One would also like to hear her speak about real infants, who do appear to manifest a structure of striving that influences from the start their reception of cultural forms.

Butler’s second strong claim is that the body itself, and especially the distinction between the two sexes, is also a social construction. She means not only that the body is shaped in many ways by social norms of how men and women should be; she means also that the fact that a binary division of sexes is taken as fundamental, as a key to arranging society, is itself a social idea that is not given in bodily reality. What exactly does this claim mean, and how plausible is it?

Butler’s brief exploration of Foucault on hermaphrodites does show us society’s anxious insistence to classify every human being in one box or another, whether or not the individual fits a box; but of course it does not show that there are many such indeterminate cases. She is right to insist that we might have made many different classifications of body types, not necessarily focusing on the binary division as the most salient; and she is also right to insist that, to a large extent, claims of bodily sex difference allegedly based upon scientific research have been projections of cultural prejudice--though Butler offers nothing here that is nearly as compelling as Fausto Sterling’s painstaking biological analysis.

And yet it is much too simple to say that power is all that the body is. We might have had the bodies of birds or dinosaurs or lions, but we do not; and this reality shapes our choices. Culture can shape and reshape some aspects of our bodily existence, but it does not shape all the aspects of it. “In the man burdened by hunger and thirst,” as Sextus Empiricus observed long ago, “it is impossible to produce by argument the conviction that he is not so burdened.” This is an important fact also for feminism, since women’s nutritional needs (and their special needs when pregnant or lactating) are an important feminist topic. Even where sex difference is concerned, it is surely too simple to write it all off as culture; nor should feminists be eager to make such a sweeping gesture. Women who run or play basketball, for example, were right to welcome the demolition of myths about women’s athletic performance that were the product of male-dominated assumptions; but they were also right to demand the specialized research on women’s bodies that has fostered a better understanding of women’s training needs and women’s injuries. In short: what feminism needs, and sometimes gets, is a subtle study of the interplay of bodily difference and cultural construction. And Butler’s abstract pronouncements, floating high above all matter, give us none of what we need.

IV.

Suppose we grant Butler her most interesting claims up to this point: that the social structure of gender is ubiquitous, but we can resist it by subversive and parodic acts. Two significant questions remain. What should be resisted, and on what basis? What would the acts of resistance be like, and what would we expect them to accomplish?

Butler uses several words for what she takes to be bad and therefore worthy of resistance: the “repressive,” the “subordinating,” the “oppressive.” But she provides no empirical discussion of resistance of the sort that we find, say, in Barry Adam’s fascinating sociological study The Survival of Domination (1978), which studies the subordination of blacks, Jews, women, and gays and lesbians, and their ways of wrestling with the forms of social power that have oppressed them. Nor does Butler provide any account of the concepts of resistance and oppression that would help us, were we really in doubt about what we ought to be resisting.

Butler departs in this regard from earlier social-constructionist feminists, all of whom used ideas such as non-hierarchy, equality, dignity, autonomy, and treating as an end rather than a means, to indicate a direction for actual politics. Still less is she willing to elaborate any positive normative notion. Indeed, it is clear that Butler, like Foucault, is adamantly opposed to normative notions such as human dignity, or treating humanity as an end, on the grounds that they are inherently dictatorial. In her view, we ought to wait to see what the political struggle itself throws up, rather than prescribe in advance to its participants. Universal normative notions, she says, “colonize under the sign of the same.”

This idea of waiting to see what we get--in a word, this moral passivity--seems plausible in Butler because she tacitly assumes an audience of like-minded readers who agree (sort of) about what the bad things are--discrimination against gays and lesbians, the unequal and hierarchical treatment of women--and who even agree (sort of) about why they are bad (they subordinate some people to others, they deny people freedoms that they ought to have). But take that assumption away, and the absence of a normative dimension becomes a severe problem.

Try teaching Foucault at a contemporary law school, as I have, and you will quickly find that subversion takes many forms, not all of them congenial to Butler and her allies. As a perceptive libertarian student said to me, Why can’t I use these ideas to resist the tax structure, or the antidiscrimination laws, or perhaps even to join the militias? Others, less fond of liberty, might engage in the subversive performances of making fun of feminist remarks in class, or ripping down the posters of the lesbian and gay law students’ association. These things happen. They are parodic and subversive. Why, then, aren’t they daring and good?

Well, there are good answers to those questions, but you won’t find them in Foucault, or in Butler. Answering them requires discussing which liberties and opportunities human beings ought to have, and what it is for social institutions to treat human beings as ends rather than as means--in short, a normative theory of social justice and human dignity. It is one thing to say that we should be humble about our universal norms, and willing to learn from the experience of oppressed people. It is quite another thing to say that we don’t need any norms at all. Foucault, unlike Butler, at least showed signs in his late work of grappling with this problem; and all his writing is animated by a fierce sense of the texture of social oppression and the harm that it does.

Come to think of it, justice, understood as a personal virtue, has exactly the structure of gender in the Butlerian analysis: it is not innate or “natural,” it is produced by repeated performances (or as Aristotle said, we learn it by doing it), it shapes our inclinations and forces the repression of some of them. These ritual performances, and their associated repressions, are enforced by arrangements of social power, as children who won’t share on the playground quickly discover. Moreover, the parodic subversion of justice is ubiquitous in politics, as in personal life. But there is an important difference. Generally we dislike these subversive performances, and we think that young people should be strongly discouraged from seeing norms of justice in such a cynical light. Butler cannot explain in any purely structural or procedural way why the subversion of gender norms is a social good while the subversion of justice norms is a social bad. Foucault, we should remember, cheered for the Ayatollah, and why not? That, too, was resistance, and there was indeed nothing in the text to tell us that that struggle was less worthy than a struggle for civil rights and civil liberties.

There is a void, then, at the heart of Butler’s notion of politics. This void can look liberating, because the reader fills it implicitly with a normative theory of human equality or dignity. But let there be no mistake: for Butler, as for Foucault, subversion is subversion, and it can in principle go in any direction. Indeed, Butler’s naively empty politics is especially dangerous for the very causes she holds dear. For every friend of Butler, eager to engage in subversive performances that proclaim the repressiveness of heterosexual gender norms, there are dozens who would like to engage in subversive performances that flout the norms of tax compliance, of non-discrimination, of decent treatment of one’s fellow students. To such people we should say, you cannot simply resist as you please, for there are norms of fairness, decency, and dignity that entail that this is bad behavior. But then we have to articulate those norms--and this Butler refuses to do.

What precisely does Butler offer when she counsels subversion? She tells us to engage in parodic performances, but she warns us that the dream of escaping altogether from the oppressive structures is just a dream: it is within the oppressive structures that we must find little spaces for resistance, and this resistance cannot hope to change the overall situation. And here lies a dangerous quietism.

If Butler means only to warn us against the dangers of fantasizing an idyllic world in which sex raises no serious problems, she is wise to do so. Yet frequently she goes much further. She suggests that the institutional structures that ensure the marginalization of lesbians and gay men in our society, and the continued inequality of women, will never be changed in a deep way; and so our best hope is to thumb our noses at them, and to find pockets of personal freedom within them. “Called by an injurious name, I come into social being, and because I have a certain inevitable attachment to my existence, because a certain narcissism takes hold of any term that confers existence, I am led to embrace the terms that injure me because they constitute me socially.” In other words: I cannot escape the humiliating structures without ceasing to be, so the best I can do is mock, and use the language of subordination stingingly. In Butler, resistance is always imagined as personal, more or less private, involving no unironic, organized public action for legal or institutional change.

Isn’t this like saying to a slave that the institution of slavery will never change, but you can find ways of mocking it and subverting it, finding your personal freedom within those acts of carefully limited defiance? Yet it is a fact that the institution of slavery can be changed, and was changed--but not by people who took a Butler-like view of the possibilities. It was changed because people did not rest content with parodic performance: they demanded, and to some extent they got, social upheaval. It is also a fact that the institutional structures that shape women’s lives have changed. The law of rape, still defective, has at least improved; the law of sexual harassment exists, where it did not exist before; marriage is no longer regarded as giving men monarchical control over women’s bodies. These things were changed by feminists who would not take parodic performance as their answer, who thought that power, where bad, should, and would, yield before justice.

Butler not only eschews such a hope, she takes pleasure in its impossibility. She finds it exciting to contemplate the alleged immovability of power, and to envisage the ritual subversions of the slave who is convinced that she must remain such. She tells us--this is the central thesis of The Psychic Life of Power--that we all eroticize the power structures that oppress us, and can thus find sexual pleasure only within their confines. It seems to be for that reason that she prefers the sexy acts of parodic subversion to any lasting material or institutional change. Real change would so uproot our psyches that it would make sexual satisfaction impossible. Our libidos are the creation of the bad enslaving forces, and thus necessarily sadomasochistic in structure.

Well, parodic performance is not so bad when you are a powerful tenured academic in a liberal university. But here is where Butler’s focus on the symbolic, her proud neglect of the material side of life, becomes a fatal blindness. For women who are hungry, illiterate, disenfranchised, beaten, raped, it is not sexy or liberating to reenact, however parodically, the conditions of hunger, illiteracy, disenfranchisement, beating, and rape. Such women prefer food, schools, votes, and the integrity of their bodies. I see no reason to believe that they long sadomasochistically for a return to the bad state. If some individuals cannot live without the sexiness of domination, that seems sad, but it is not really our business. But when a major theorist tells women in desperate conditions that life offers them only bondage, she purveys a cruel lie, and a lie that flatters evil by giving it much more power than it actually has.

Excitable Speech, Butler’s most recent book, which provides her analysis of legal controversies involving pornography and hate speech, shows us exactly how far her quietism extends. For she is now willing to say that even where legal change is possible, even where it has already happened, we should wish it away, so as to preserve the space within which the oppressed may enact their sadomasochistic rituals of parody.

As a work on the law of free speech, Excitable Speech is an unconscionably bad book. Butler shows no awareness of the major theoretical accounts of the First Amendment, and no awareness of the wide range of cases such a theory will need to take into consideration. She makes absurd legal claims: for example, she says that the only type of speech that has been held to be unprotected is speech that has been previously defined as conduct rather than speech. (In fact, there are many types of speech, from false or misleading advertising to libelous statements to obscenity as currently defined, which have never been claimed to be action rather than speech, and which are nonetheless denied First Amendment protection.) Butler even claims, mistakenly, that obscenity has been judged to be the equivalent of “fighting words.” It is not that Butler has an argument to back up her novel readings of the wide range of cases of unprotected speech that an account of the First Amendment would need to cover. She just has not noticed that there is this wide range of cases, or that her view is not a widely accepted legal view. Nobody interested in law can take her argument seriously.

But let us extract from Butler’s thin discussion of hate speech and pornography the core of her position. It is this: legal prohibitions of hate speech and pornography are problematic (though in the end she does not clearly oppose them) because they close the space within which the parties injured by that speech can perform their resistance. By this Butler appears to mean that if the offense is dealt with through the legal system, there will be fewer occasions for informal protest; and also, perhaps, that if the offense becomes rarer because of its illegality we will have fewer opportunities to protest its presence.

Well, yes. Law does close those spaces. Hate speech and pornography are extremely complicated subjects on which feminists may reasonably differ. (Still, one should state the contending views precisely: Butler’s account of MacKinnon is less than careful, stating that MacKinnon supports “ordinances against pornography” and suggesting that, despite MacKinnon’s explicit denial, they involve a form of censorship. Nowhere does Butler mention that what MacKinnon actually supports is a civil damage action in which particular women harmed through pornography can sue its makers and its distributors.)

But Butler’s argument has implications well beyond the cases of hate speech and pornography. It would appear to support not just quietism in these areas, but a much more general legal quietism--or, indeed, a radical libertarianism. It goes like this: let us do away with everything from building codes to non-discrimination laws to rape laws, because they close the space within which the injured tenants, the victims of discrimination, the raped women, can perform their resistance. Now, this is not the same argument radical libertarians use to oppose building codes and anti-discrimination laws; even they draw the line at rape. But the conclusions converge.

If Butler should reply that her argument pertains only to speech (and there is no reason given in the text for such a limitation, given the assimilation of harmful speech to conduct), then we can reply in the domain of speech. Let us get rid of laws against false advertising and unlicensed medical advice, for they close the space within which poisoned consumers and mutilated patients can perform their resistance! Again, if Butler does not approve of these extensions, she needs to make an argument that divides her cases from these cases, and it is not clear that her position permits her to make such a distinction.

For Butler, the act of subversion is so riveting, so sexy, that it is a bad dream to think that the world will actually get better. What a bore equality is! No bondage, no delight. In this way, her pessimistic erotic anthropology offers support to an amoral anarchist politics.

VI.

When we consider the quietism inherent in Butler’s writing, we have some keys to understanding Butler’s influential fascination with drag and cross-dressing as paradigms of feminist resistance. Butler’s followers understand her account of drag to imply that such performances are ways for women to be daring and subversive. I am unaware of any attempt by Butler to repudiate such readings.

But what is going on here? The woman dressed mannishly is hardly a new figure. Indeed, even when she was relatively new, in the nineteenth century, she was in another way quite old, for she simply replicated in the lesbian world the existing stereotypes and hierarchies of male-female society. What, we may well ask, is parodic subversion in this area, and what a kind of prosperous middle-class acceptance? Isn’t hierarchy in drag still hierarchy? And is it really true (as The Psychic Life of Power would seem to conclude) that domination and subordination are the roles that women must play in every sphere, and if not subordination, then mannish domination?

In short, cross-dressing for women is a tired old script--as Butler herself informs us. Yet she would have us see the script as subverted, made new, by the cross-dresser’s knowing symbolic sartorial gestures; but again we must wonder about the newness, and even the subversiveness. Consider Andrea Dworkin’s parody (in her novel Mercy) of a Butlerish parodic feminist, who announces from her posture of secure academic comfort:

The notion that bad things happen is both propagandistic and inadequate…. To understand a woman’s life requires that we affirm the hidden or obscure dimensions of pleasure, often in pain, and choice, often under duress. One must develop an eye for secret signs--the clothes that are more than clothes or decoration in the contemporary dialogue, for instance, or the rebellion hidden behind apparent conformity. There is no victim. There is perhaps an insufficiency of signs, an obdurate appearance of conformity that simply masks the deeper level on which choice occurs.

In prose quite unlike Butler’s, this passage captures the ambivalence of the implied author of some of Butler’s writings, who delights in her violative practice while turning her theoretical eye resolutely away from the material suffering of women who are hungry, illiterate, violated, beaten. There is no victim. There is only an insufficiency of signs.

Butler suggests to her readers that this sly send-up of the status quo is the only script for resistance that life offers. Well, no. Besides offering many other ways to be human in one’s personal life, beyond traditional norms of domination and subservience, life also offers many scripts for resistance that do not focus narcissistically on personal self-presentation. Such scripts involve feminists (and others, of course) in building laws and institutions, without much concern for how a woman displays her own body and its gendered nature: in short, they involve working for others who are suffering.

The great tragedy in the new feminist theory in America is the loss of a sense of public commitment. In this sense, Butler’s self-involved feminism is extremely American, and it is not surprising that it has caught on here, where successful middle-class people prefer to focus on cultivating the self rather than thinking in a way that helps the material condition of others. Even in America, however, it is possible for theorists to be dedicated to the public good and to achieve something through that effort.

Many feminists in America are still theorizing in a way that supports material change and responds to the situation of the most oppressed. Increasingly, however, the academic and cultural trend is toward the pessimistic flirtatiousness represented by the theorizing of Butler and her followers. Butlerian feminism is in many ways easier than the old feminism. It tells scores of talented young women that they need not work on changing the law, or feeding the hungry, or assailing power through theory harnessed to material politics. They can do politics in safety of their campuses, remaining on the symbolic level, making subversive gestures at power through speech and gesture. This, the theory says, is pretty much all that is available to us anyway, by way of political action, and isn’t it exciting and sexy?

In its small way, of course, this is a hopeful politics. It instructs people that they can, right now, without compromising their security, do something bold. But the boldness is entirely gestural, and insofar as Butler’s ideal suggests that these symbolic gestures really are political change, it offers only a false hope. Hungry women are not fed by this, battered women are not sheltered by it, raped women do not find justice in it, gays and lesbians do not achieve legal protections through it.

Finally there is despair at the heart of the cheerful Butlerian enterprise. The big hope, the hope for a world of real justice, where laws and institutions protect the equality and the dignity of all citizens, has been banished, even perhaps mocked as sexually tedious. Judith Butler’s hip quietism is a comprehensible response to the difficulty of realizing justice in America. But it is a bad response. It collaborates with evil. Feminism demands more and women deserve better.

#Anglo.txt

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whitehotharlots · 3 years

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It’s all religion, and it’s all profane

Over the past few days I have delved, rather pointlessly, into the messy scenery of the UK’s ongoing gender wars. My interest was equal parts morbid and academic. I hoped to answer two questions. First, why is the back-and-forth between trans rights advocates and gender critical feminists so vicious in the UK, culminating not just in the threats and recriminations found in the war’s American iteration, but in women being blackmailed and even arrested.

The second question is why is it even happening? That is, why is the UK in particular a hotbed for an ideological war of this type among liberal-identifying people, while in the US the feminist movement has accepted trans ideology more or less uniformly and with minimal pushback. My first inclination was that it was a matter of professional survival. Perhaps academic jobs aren’t as precarious in the UK, meaning that it’s somewhat safer for people to issue heterodox opinions. But, again, the viciousness of the first question seems to rebut my assumption in regards to the second. Losing your job is bad, but going to prison is worse.

Of course, I found no clear answer to either question. UK academe is utterly unknowable to an American who’s never experienced it. I found out what “O Levels” means but after that I got kind of lost. As much as a shitty lie our myth of academic meritocracy might be, the UK makes us look like a Dutch Montessori school run by doctrinaire Quakers. If your first name isn’t proceeded by Lord, Lady, or Sir, or if you don’t have a number after your name that’s at least as high as The Fourth, there’s not much of a chance you’re going to get yourself a gig within Oxbridge.

So I delved into the viciousness, and oh boy did I get what I was looking for. The English are renowned for their dry, cutting humor, but that’s because only the best of the best come into the American purview. The majority of pedestrian UK humor is a sort of sarcasm without jokes. Like, let’s say you brought home a sausage pizza. I asked you what the topping was and you said “It’s pepperoni, mate.” And then you opened it up and it was sausage and that made me confused and slightly pissed. That’s the extent of the comedic ability of your average Brit.

The fights, meanwhile, are more direct and blunt, really a sight to behold. Again, there’s no attempts at humor, which tend to accompany the verbal conflicts of Americans. When Americans fight, we’re usually doing it to try and get the people around us to think we’re cool. When UK people fight, they just want to hurt the other person.

Of course, there’s much in common between the US and UK iterations of gender discourse. Minor disagreements are regarded as violence, hyperbolic overstatements of harm are routine, and person who uses terminology that was considered progressive up until very recently can find themself labeled a Nazi for not making linguistic adjustments quickly enough. But it’s still somehow even more rancorous in the UK. You get a sense that they’re not in it just for online clout but out of a desire to cause real, physical harm to members of the other side.

One of the more salient aspects of UK arguments is how their insults will often consist of a simple description of a person. Sometimes you’ll get “fat” or “snaggle toothed” or something most of us would consider mean. But other times it’s like “you blonde cunt” or “you working class shite” or something else that us Americans would never regard as an insult. Mentions of religion are surprisingly common. They say “you Catholic bigot” as opposed to “you bigot,” or “you deranged Protestant” instead of “you freak.”

This really struck me. You’d never, ever see that in America. Firstly because it’s taboo (unless it’s a Republican talking about Muslims). Secondly, because we simply do not care. Your average religious American cannot articulate any meaningful difference between Catholics and Protestants. We have no need to, because as much as we love Jesus we don’t bother with any of the messy parts of religion, such as having a faint understanding of the faiths we claim to adhere to.

This, I have always felt, is the greatest folly of New Atheism. What are you gonna do, present a scientific case demonstrating the absurdity of the creation myth? You gonna stick solely to the bible and highlight its multiple hypocrisies and contradictions? What is that gonna achieve? These people had Donald Trump autograph their bibles. They think salvation can be purchased by giving 20% of their paychecks to millionaires who preach in stadiums. There’s nothing an outsider can do to profane their religion that’s more obscene than the manner in which they practice it.

(I recall a time in my mid-teens when I attempted to “A-ha!” a youth pastor with my knowledge of the story of Jephthah from the Book of Judges, who committed yahweh-approved ritualistic sacrifice of his eldest daughter. In response, the pastor informed me that he hadn’t read that part of the bible, and that his relationship with Jesus was more about the feelings it gave him than some words written down in an old book. Needless to say, he won the argument.)

The UK is, even now, broadly to the left of the US in regards to their social safety net and most cultural matters (this is a low bar, for sure, but they do clear it). Perhaps people who us Americans would identify as liberal (in that they don’t openly want to murder poor people; they’ll often still do it, but they won’t giggle while doing it) aren’t as ideologically siloed over there. The Democratic party is, after all, an unworkable mishmash of a few dozen different concerns, and their basic strategy since the Clinton era has been to blame the incompatibility of those concerns for the fact that their governance is indistinguishable from that of the GOP.

An American liberal therefore doesn’t focus on piddling things like principles or ideals or even whether or not a policy they support does the exact opposite of what it’s supposed to achieve. Paying too close attention to the workings of our coalition will reveal its manifest contradictions, which will in turn weaken it, and if gets too weak then we’ll once again have an evil fascist doing the exact same stuff that a good and honorable man like Joe Biden is presently doing. Instead, we must understand politics as a means of achieving self-actualization through the process of deferring our concerns to others. Those concerns are not addressed within the present system, no, and neither are our own, but worrying about cause and effect and results is not the point. It’s much more important to exist, to validate, and to listen.

In the UK, politics is still understood as politics. It is a means of gaining and exercising power. In the US, politics falls eerily in line with our profane understanding of what religious devotion entails: an acontextual, borderline illiterate expression of ourselves, which we have been trained to believe connects us to some kind of higher power that unifies us as humans by calcifying our utter disconnectedness from one another.

And so maybe that’s the difference? In the UK, people are delusional enough to think that politics is entered into by people who have something to gain or lose. In the US, it’s all about vibes.

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cordeliaflyte · 3 years

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why do they have brain worms 😬 i get that nowadays a lot of ppl who use womyn/womon/wimmin/etc. are dumb terfs but those words held a lot of importance in the lesbian liberation movement of the 70s as a way to 1) exclude "man" from the word to signal lesbianism and 2) to describe the distinct Brand of womanhood lesbians (& bi women) experience as opposed to straight women. theres nothing inherently brain worm about reclaiming or appreciating lgbt history

because they annoy me.

but no seriously. as much as i appreciate what second-wave feminism and lesbian feminism have done for women's rights, i think that spellings like wimmin/womyn etc have always been meaningless and performative gestures. i guess if their goal was simply to annoy men (which can be commendable! but isn't particularly difficult to achieve) they succeeded, but i don't see how changes in language used on a micro scale could materially improve women's conditions or ameliorate their public perception as a political class.

granted, i'm not an expert on the topic, but rather than embrace a whole branch ideology such as second-wave feminism, i would rather pick the parts i appreciate and am welcome for (most of them; especially the expansion of rights pertaining to divorce or reproductive freedom) and disregard the ones i think were unnecessary or detrimental to the movement (an example of the former being alternative spellings of the word "women", and of the latter, female separatism).

i'm interested in lgbt history and particularly lesbian history, but i don't think it's sacred or immutable, or that lgbt people need to utilise all aspects of it, especially if they're removed from their lived experiences.

as an aspiring literature student, i strive to be conscious of how language affects perception of social groups, but i sometimes hesitate on whether arguing about semantics, as enjoyable as it is, is productive. i primarily use polish in my everyday life, so i'll allow myself to use it to try o illustrate my point.

the polish word for woman, kobieta, has only come to mean what it does recently - up until the 18th century, it was a pejorative term used to disparage female farm workers, particularly those working with pigs (or, depending on which scholar you ask, prostitutes), which is more obviously misogynistic than the root of the word woman (even those its etymology paints a picture of woman as "the other", a variant of the "default", male human). and at risk unreflective and anti-feminist, i've never considered it a contributing factor in polish misogyny - it seems like a complete non-issue to me, and i've never encountered any polish feminists using any other term to refer to women as a whole except for panie (ladies).

and on a purely personal level, i think the aforementioned spellings look ugly and childish - something that is, no doubt, caused at least partially by a knee-jerk reaction to the circles it's currently associated with and just simply that they're so different from the spelling i'm used to. i find that they conflicts with my understanding of gender and womanhood. obviously, understanding of gender has changed since the 1970s, but i have never felt the need to forge an identity as a woman in a way that was clearly distinct to that of men, but rather to disconnect it from gender to the highest extent possible, if that makes sense?

what i mean is: i see womanhood as a social category, rather than an identity. sure, my experiences as a lesbian are different to those of straight women, and i probably navigate gender differently than most of them, but i also don't think i share an intrinsic gender experience with other lesbians or bisexual women. i do apologize if this is going off topic - do feel free to ask me to clarify on any point in this rather lengthy response - but i'd say i identify as a lesbian but i'm identified as a woman by society.

i hope you got something out of this mini-essay, and again, feel free to ask for elaboration on any point! take care :)

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bookandcover · 3 years

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Our monthly book for our family’s Anti-Racism Book Club, Sister Outsider is a collection of essays by foundational Feminism theorist and activist poet Audre Lorde. It was interesting and illuminating to appreciate, as I read, that these essays were penned and published between 1976 and 1983 because so many of the concepts Lorde explores are central to how race, gender, and sexuality are discussed, in academia and in activism, today. Most notably, in my mind, are her descriptions of intersectionality and how intersectionality operates in each life, shaping our perspectives and experiences. Lorde doesn’t use the term “intersectionality,” but this is what she so profoundly describes, as she advocates for unity through diversity (and not “in spite of” or “by erasing” differences). She offers an incredible message of hope. The task she sets to all of us is not an easy one, but it’s a powerful one and one she deeply believes in: through seeing each other more fully, through understanding the intersections of someone else’s complex identity and where that identity does or does not overlap with our own, we can find shared humanity and shared conviction to fight for change.

Audre Lorde is Black, female, lesbian, and the mother of two children. Her perspective and experiences are shaped by these different aspects of her identity, and she explains how each part of her multi-faceted identity has placed her outside of society’s “norms” in a variety of contexts. Even within sub-communities, she has found herself on the outside because of one of her identities. She describes how, when hoping to attend a Feminism conference for queer women, she wasn’t sure how to attend and care for her teenage son, as no boys over age 10 were allowed at the conference. Lorde’s identities do not have a “hierarchy of othering” nor are they separable from each other. Through these essays, she shows how these identities are linked, yet one may be more central to certain experiences than others. She identifies with women across the Feminist movement, yet her Blackness is often misunderstood or blatantly judged by white women. She identifies with Black men struggling against racism, and speaks about Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr., but she’s repeatedly othered and traumatized by the violence against Black women perpetuated by Black men. She speaks out about the violence and hatred from Black people directed at other Black people and she does a lot to explain and examine “internalized racism” (another term that she describes without using this exact wording, and yet it’s a concept that’s important in race discussion today). I wondered whether Lorde is credited with developing these concepts, and how other thinkers built on her ideas, and where the specific terminology itself came from. I’ll do some more digging.

In our family discussion, my sister pointed out how much she liked the part in the Introduction—written by a white, Jewish, Lesbian mother—in which the author explained that Lorde’s explanation of and examination of her intersectional identity allowed the author to examine her own. Although these two women’s identifies are not the same, the act of intersectional thinking and awareness that Lorde demonstrates allowed the author of the Introduction to better think about these things in herself and to process how to discuss her complex identity with her son. I found this to be such a poignant point—that intersectionality can function as a tool. It doesn’t mean we need to identity with Lorde’s perspective in a specific sense (and the majority of readers will not be able to, having their own identities that are complex, but different than Lorde’s) but we can identify with her ways of thinking about identity. We can learn from her methodology and apply it to ourselves and to our interactions with others. There are a lot of aspects of our intersectional identities that we take for granted on a daily basis. These are the ones that align with the “norm,” the privileged identity in America, and therefore are those we are not forced by others to repeatedly be aware of…the world is designed to fit those aspects of identity. But that doesn’t mean we should not actively examine these aspects of identity as well, and I feel that intersectionality helps us do this, helps us “check our privilege” in these areas. If I read about the experiences of a Black, female lesbian, I gain new understanding of the things I take for granted in my whiteness and my heterosexuality. If I read something written by someone with a physical handicap, I gain new understanding of how I take my able-bodiedness for granted. This does not work only across one dimension, but across many dimensions simultaneously, as I feel affinity for Lorde in her femaleness, but also nuanced understanding of how her experience of being female has been fundamentally different than my own.

This book gave me confidence to speak up about race and identity, more so, I think, than any other we’ve read since June 2020. Because identity is so complex, I am going to make mistakes. I am going to be blatantly racist, sexist, homophobic, classist, and many more things, as these things are ingrained in all of us by society. I am going to be the most blind in the areas where I have experienced the most privilege. But each person’s identity is complex, and race conversations are not “us versus them”—it’s “me and you,” talking and processing, and trying to get to know our differences. Lorde has such a strong conviction in the process of unity, of coming through understanding of each other and each other’s diversity. And it’s clear that this is only achieved through closeness, through effort, through work and discussion (which is inherently painful because it works out the deep thorns of hatred). Lorde’s faith in this is so powerful and it uplifted me to try, with each person, to get closer to understanding their intersectional identities. I know that this is not a project that I can expect another person to enter into with me, and Lorde points to several times when she’s exhausted by this work, when she acknowledges how less emotionally-taxing certain conversations about race with white people would be if they were conducted by another white person.

I think that, on some deep level, I have always struggled with a fear of misspeaking about race. This is a funny fear to have because I have already misspoken about race. I have said things out of ignorance, out of racism, that have hurt others, probably more times than I know. I have had friends call me out. I have apologized. I have felt sad about the impact of my words. I have felt ashamed about my ignorance. Why would I still dread these experiences? I guess, because they are painful, and no one likes anything painful, but they are definitely less painful for me. So I try to overcome my fear of them. I think I am someone who craves the approval of others. I like to be liked, something cultivated from a very young age when I won the approval of teachers and of my parents by being a strong student. I didn’t really have the experience of disappointing someone (I probably should have, so I could have made tools earlier for dealing with it). Why do I want/need the approval of strangers? Why do I want to be liked? Why does this factor into a fear of judgment and of misspeaking? I think as I’ve grown up I’ve improved at taking criticism. I am good at taking criticism on things I produce: my writing, my school work, my work work. I am getting pretty good at taking personal criticism from loved ones—“you said x and that hurt my feelings”—I am good at admitting fault. I do not feel insecure about mistakes or failures. Yet, I’m somehow more afraid of hurting strangers, and the hurt that comes from speaking up and hurting others about race. My logical mind rejects this—“your hurt is microscopic and should not be the focus when you’ve hurt others”—but I also know I still feel this. I’m not doing a great job of talking myself out of it.

Audre Lorde, however, is. My favorite moment in this book is the following quote:

“If I speak to you in anger, at least I have spoken to you: I have not put a gun to your head and shot you down in the street…”

I felt this moment strike me deeply and shift something tectonic within me. I felt this change the way I thought about my fear. I felt the incredible power of someone telling me I’ve hurt them, of being willing and able to do that. Yes, I still would not want to hurt someone else because I would not want to hurt them. But I feel, in a new way, that I am not afraid of misspeaking on race because of the backlash on me. I need to try to not hurt others, but I will. And when I do, I will need to try harder. I will be grateful for words of anger because they are WORDS. Words are not something of which to be afraid; words are opportunities.

Another striking part of this book for me was the conversation between Adrienne Rich and Audre Lorde. I’m a big fan of Rich’s poetry and routinely taught “Diving Into the Wreck” to my students, as a way to talk about Feminism and identity. I really appreciated seeing these women converse, modeling, I felt, the approach to conversations around intersectionality that Lorde supports. These two women don’t hold back, and they don’t always agree. Yet, their friendship and trust deepens through their acts of disagreement and reckoning. The best part of this essay, for me, was when Lorde brings up how Rich asked her on the phone in a conversation around race to provide “documentation” of her perspective, as a way to help Rich “perceive what you perceive.” Lorde, however, takes this request as one coming from an academic/rationalist perspective, a perspective that has often been employed to discredit Lorde’s own, as a “questioning of her perceptions” (which, white men academics too often feel, are suspect when coming from a Black woman). Neither Rich nor Lorde backs off their approach—Rich tying this need for documentation to how seriously she takes the spaces between her and Lorde that she seeks to fill with information and understanding, and Lorde pointing out that documentation supports analysis and not perception, which is the way the world is directly received by her, a Black woman. I don’t think this conversation is colored by them being respectful of each other in their words and language, but by the honesty that is evidence of deep and true respect.

This book is bookended by two essays that take place aboard—the first in Russia and the last in Grenada. In both, Lorde has another identity that she comments on less explicitly, but that is nevertheless explored: that of the English-speaking American aboard. She’s supported by translators and guides throughout her academic trip to Russia, and she experiences Grenada in terms of the American Imperialist invasion that overwrote the narrative of the local people with whom she feels strong affinity through her mother. In Russia, Lorde compares and contrasts the systems she sees at play with American systems (the poor, horrified Russian man to whom she explains that Americans don’t have universal healthcare and if you can’t afford it, “sometimes you die”). Reading Lorde’s descriptions of her trips invoked in me a deep desire to travel, a pining for those experiences that I’ve tried to stamp down firmly in the past year, but travel has been such a significant part of my life over the past 5 years…it’s hard to silence my longing. (I cried yesterday morning about wanting to visit the remains of Troy where they’ve been unearthed in western Turkey near Canakkale…) I felt like these bookends helped me expand the principles of intersectionality beyond the American Black-white dynamic, although this is the hugest and most painful power dynamic impacting America today, to remember that these issues are universal. Lorde focuses more universally than some of the other authors we’ve read recently, focusing her commentary on all aspects of her identity, and not solely race. Struggles around race, gender, sexuality, nationality, and many other aspects of identity are occurring around the world, and it’s important to work to understand the intersectionality of others’ lives and experiences in a complex, nuanced way. By doing this, Lorde shows, we can direct our emotions and our efforts vertically, working to dismantle stratified systems of inequality, rather than battling over differences on a horizontal plane.

#sister outsider #audre lorde #important reading #talking about race #talking about sexuality #talking about gender #intersectionality #intersectional feminism #feminism #reading blog #fifth book of 2021

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and-then-there-were-n0ne · 4 years

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On Judith Butler

One American feminist has shaped these developments more than any other. Judith Butler seems to many young scholars to define what feminism is now. Trained as a philosopher, she is frequently seen as a major thinker about gender, power, and the body. As we wonder what has become of old-style feminist politics and the material realities to which it was committed, it seems necessary to reckon with Butler's work and influence, and to scrutinize the arguments that have led so many to adopt a stance that looks very much like quietism and retreat.

It is difficult to come to grips with Butler's ideas, because it is difficult to figure out what they are. Butler is a very smart person. In public discussions, she proves that she can speak clearly and has a quick grasp of what is said to her. Her written style, however, is ponderous and obscure. It is dense with allusions to other theorists, drawn from a wide range of different theoretical traditions. In addition to Foucault, and to a more recent focus on Freud, Butler's work relies heavily on the thought of Louis Althusser, the French lesbian theorist Monique Wittig, the American anthropologist Gayle Rubin, Jacques Lacan, J.L. Austin, and the American philosopher of language Saul Kripke. These figures do not all agree with one another, to say the least; so an initial problem in reading Butler is that one is bewildered to find her arguments buttressed by appeal to so many contradictory concepts and doctrines, usually without any account of how the apparent contradictions will be resolved.

A further problem lies in Butler's casual mode of allusion. The ideas of these thinkers are never described in enough detail to include the uninitiated (if you are not familiar with the Althusserian concept of "interpellation," you are lost for chapters) or to explain to the initiated how, precisely, the difficult ideas are being understood. [...]

Divergent interpretations are simply not considered--even where, as in the cases of Foucault and Freud, she is advancing highly contestable interpretations that would not be accepted by many scholars. Thus one is led to the conclusion that the allusiveness of the writing cannot be explained in the usual way, by positing an audience of specialists eager to debate the details of an esoteric academic position. The writing is simply too thin to satisfy any such audience. It is also obvious that Butler's work is not directed at a non-academic audience eager to grapple with actual injustices. Such an audience would simply be baffled by the thick soup of Butler's prose, by its air of in-group knowingness, by its extremely high ratio of names to explanations.

To whom, then, is Butler speaking? It would seem that she is addressing a group of young feminist theorists in the academy who are neither students of philosophy, caring about what Althusser and Freud and Kripke really said, nor outsiders, needing to be informed about the nature of their projects and persuaded of their worth. This implied audience is imagined as remarkably docile. Subservient to the oracular voice of Butler's text, and dazzled by its patina of high-concept abstractness, the imagined reader poses few questions, requests no arguments and no clear definitions of terms.

Still more strangely, the implied reader is expected not to care greatly about Butler's own final view on many matters. For a large proportion of the sentences in any book by Butler--especially sentences near the end of chapters--are questions. Sometimes the answer that the question expects is evident. But often things are much more indeterminate. Among the non-interrogative sentences, many begin with "Consider..." or "One could suggest..."--in such a way that Butler never quite tells the reader whether she approves of the view described. Mystification as well as hierarchy are the tools of her practice, a mystification that eludes criticism because it makes few definite claims.

Take two representative examples:

And:

Why does Butler prefer to write in this teasing, exasperating way? The style is certainly not unprecedented. Some precincts of the continental philosophical tradition, though surely not all of them, have an unfortunate tendency to regard the philosopher as a star who fascinates, and frequently by obscurity, rather than as an arguer among equals. When ideas are stated clearly, after all, they may be detached from their author: one can take them away and pursue them on one's own. When they remain mysterious (indeed, when they are not quite asserted), one remains dependent on the originating authority. The thinker is heeded only for his or her turgid charisma. One hangs in suspense, eager for the next move. When Butler does follow that "direction for thinking," what will she say? What does it mean, tell us please, for the agency of a subject to presuppose its own subordination? (No clear answer to this question, so far as I can see, is forthcoming.) One is given the impression of a mind so profoundly cogitative that it will not pronounce on anything lightly: so one waits, in awe of its depth, for it finally to do so.

In this way obscurity creates an aura of importance. It also serves another related purpose. It bullies the reader into granting that, since one cannot figure out what is going on, there must be something significant going on, some complexity of thought, where in reality there are often familiar or even shopworn notions, addressed too simply and too casually to add any new dimension of understanding. When the bullied readers of Butler's books muster the daring to think thus, they will see that the ideas in these books are thin. When Butler's notions are stated clearly and succinctly, one sees that, without a lot more distinctions and arguments, they don't go far, and they are not especially new. Thus obscurity fills the void left by an absence of a real complexity of thought and argument.

Last year Butler won the first prize in the annual Bad Writing Contest sponsored by the journal Philosophy and Literature, for the following sentence:

Now, Butler might have written: "Marxist accounts, focusing on capital as the central force structuring social relations, depicted the operations of that force as everywhere uniform. By contrast, Althusserian accounts, focusing on power, see the operations of that force as variegated and as shifting over time." Instead, she prefers a verbosity that causes the reader to expend so much effort in deciphering her prose that little energy is left for assessing the truth of the claims. Announcing the award, the journal's editor remarked that "it's possibly the anxiety-inducing obscurity of such writing that has led Professor Warren Hedges of Southern Oregon University to praise Judith Butler as `probably one of the ten smartest people on the planet.'" (Such bad writing, incidentally, is by no means ubiquitous in the "queer theory" group of theorists with which Butler is associated. David Halperin, for example, writes about the relationship between Foucault and Kant, and about Greek homosexuality, with philosophical clarity and historical precision.)

Butler gains prestige in the literary world by being a philosopher; many admirers associate her manner of writing with philosophical profundity. But one should ask whether it belongs to the philosophical tradition at all, rather than to the closely related but adversarial traditions of sophistry and rhetoric. Ever since Socrates distinguished philosophy from what the sophists and the rhetoricians were doing, it has been a discourse of equals who trade arguments and counter-arguments without any obscurantist sleight-of-hand. In that way, he claimed, philosophy showed respect for the soul, while the others' manipulative methods showed only disrespect. One afternoon, fatigued by Butler on a long plane trip, I turned to a draft of a student's dissertation on Hume's views of personal identity. I quickly felt my spirits reviving. Doesn't she write clearly, I thought with pleasure, and a tiny bit of pride. And Hume, what a fine, what a gracious spirit: how kindly he respects the reader's intelligence, even at the cost of exposing his own uncertainty.

Butler's main idea, first introduced in Gender Trouble in 1989 and repeated throughout her books, is that gender is a social artifice. Our ideas of what women and men are reflect nothing that exists eternally in nature. Instead they derive from customs that embed social relations of power.

This notion, of course, is nothing new. The denaturalizing of gender was present already in Plato, and it received a great boost from John Stuart Mill, who claimed in The Subjection of Women that "what is now called the nature of women is an eminently artificial thing." Mill saw that claims about "women's nature" derive from, and shore up, hierarchies of power: womanliness is made to be whatever would serve the cause of keeping women in subjection, or, as he put it, "enslav[ing] their minds." With the family as with feudalism, the rhetoric of nature itself serves the cause of slavery. "The subjection of women to men being a universal custom, any departure from it quite naturally appears unnatural... But was there ever any domination which did not appear natural to those who possessed it?"

Mill was hardly the first social-constructionist. [...] In work published in the 1970s and 1980s, Catharine MacKinnon and Andrea Dworkin argued that the conventional understanding of gender roles is a way of ensuring continued male domination in sexual relations, as well as in the public sphere. [...] Before Butler, the psychologist Nancy Chodorow gave a detailed and compelling account of how gender differences replicate themselves across the generations: she argued that the ubiquity of these mechanisms of replication enables us to understand how what is artificial can nonetheless be nearly ubiquitous. Before Butler, the biologist Anne Fausto Sterling, through her painstaking criticism of experimental work allegedly supporting the naturalness of conventional gender distinctions, showed how deeply social power-relations had compromised the objectivity of scientists: Myths of Gender (1985) was an apt title for what she found in the biology of the time. (Other biologists and primatologists also contributed to this enterprise.) Before Butler, the political theorist Susan Moller Okin explored the role of law and political thought in constructing a gendered destiny for women in the family; and this project, too, was pursued further by a number of feminists in law and political philosophy. Before Butler, Gayle Rubin's important anthropological account of subordination, The Traffic in Women (1975), provided a valuable analysis of the relationship between the social organization of gender and the asymmetries of power.

So what does Butler's work add to this copious body of writing? Gender Trouble and Bodies that Matter contain no detailed argument against biological claims of "natural" difference, no account of mechanisms of gender replication, and no account of the legal shaping of the family; nor do they contain any detailed focus on possibilities for legal change. What, then, does Butler offer that we might not find more fully done in earlier feminist writings?

One relatively original claim is that when we recognize the artificiality of gender distinctions, and refrain from thinking of them as expressing an independent natural reality, we will also understand that there is no compelling reason why the gender types should have been two (correlated with the two biological sexes), rather than three or five or indefinitely many. "When the constructed status of gender is theorized as radically independent of sex, gender itself becomes a free-floating artifice," she writes.

From this claim it does not follow, for Butler, that we can freely reinvent the genders as we like: she holds, indeed, that there are severe limits to our freedom. She insists that we should not naively imagine that there is a pristine self that stands behind society, ready to emerge all pure and liberated. [...] Butler does claim, though, that we can create categories that are in some sense new ones, by means of the artful parody of the old ones. Thus her best-known idea, her conception of politics as a parodic performance, is born out of the sense of a (strictly limited) freedom that comes from the recognition that one's ideas of gender have been shaped by forces that are social rather than biological. We are doomed to repetition of the power structures into which we are born, but we can at least make fun of them, and some ways of making fun are subversive assaults on the original norms.

The idea of gender as performance is Butler's most famous idea, and so it is worth pausing to scrutinize it more closely. She introduced the notion intuitively, in Gender Trouble, without invoking theoretical precedent. [....] Butler's point is presumably this: when we act and speak in a gendered way, we are not simply reporting on something that is already fixed in the world, we are actively constituting it, replicating it, and reinforcing it. By behaving as if there were male and female "natures," we co-create the social fiction that these natures exist. They are never there apart from our deeds; we are always making them be there [and this is regular feminist theory]. At the same time, by carrying out these performances in a slightly different manner, a parodic manner, we can perhaps unmake them just a little. [this is not] [...]

Just as actors with a bad script can subvert it by delivering the bad lines oddly, so too with gender: the script remains bad, but the actors have a tiny bit of freedom. Thus we have the basis for what, in Excitable Speech, Butler calls "an ironic hopefulness." [...]

It is also a fact that the institutional structures that shape women's lives have changed. The law of rape, still defective, has at least improved; the law of sexual harassment exists, where it did not exist before; marriage is no longer regarded as giving men monarchical control over women's bodies. These things were changed by feminists who would not take parodic performance as their answer, who thought that power, where bad, should, and would, yield before justice. [...] It was changed because people did not rest content with parodic performance: they demanded, and to some extent they got, social upheaval.

Well, parodic performance is not so bad when you are a powerful tenured academic in a liberal university. But here is where Butler's focus on the symbolic, her proud neglect of the material side of life, becomes a fatal blindness. For women who are hungry, illiterate, disenfranchised, beaten, raped, it is not sexy or liberating to reenact, however parodically, the conditions of hunger, illiteracy, disenfranchisement, beating, and rape. Such women prefer food, schools, votes, and the integrity of their bodies. I see no reason to believe that they long sadomasochistically for a return to the bad state. If some individuals cannot live without the sexiness of domination, that seems sad, but it is not really our business. But when a major theorist tells women in desperate conditions that life offers them only bondage, she purveys a cruel lie, and a lie that flatters evil by giving it much more power than it actually has.

Excitable Speech, Butler's most recent book, which provides her analysis of legal controversies involving pornography and hate speech, shows us exactly how far her quietism extends. For she is now willing to say that even where legal change is possible, even where it has already happened, we should wish it away, so as to preserve the space within which the oppressed may enact their sadomasochistic rituals of parody.

As a work on the law of free speech, Excitable Speech is an unconscionably bad book. [...] But let us extract from Butler's thin discussion of hate speech and pornography the core of her position. It is this: legal prohibitions of hate speech and pornography are problematic (though in the end she does not clearly oppose them) because they close the space within which the parties injured by that speech can perform their resistance. By this Butler appears to mean that if the offense is dealt with through the legal system, there will be fewer occasions for informal protest; and also, perhaps, that if the offense becomes rarer because of its illegality we will have fewer opportunities to protest its presence.

Well, yes. Law does close those spaces. [...] For Butler, the act of subversion is so riveting, so sexy, that it is a bad dream to think that the world will actually get better. What a bore equality is! No bondage, no delight. In this way, her pessimistic erotic anthropology offers support to an amoral anarchist politics. [...]

The great tragedy in the new feminist theory in America is the loss of a sense of public commitment. In this sense, Butler's self-involved feminism is extremely American, and it is not surprising that it has caught on here, where successful middle-class people prefer to focus on cultivating the self rather than thinking in a way that helps the material condition of others. Even in America, however, it is possible for theorists to be dedicated to the public good and to achieve something through that effort.

In its small way, of course, this is a hopeful politics. It instructs people that they can, right now, without compromising their security, do something bold. But the boldness is entirely gestural, and insofar as Butler's ideal suggests that these symbolic gestures really are political change, it offers only a false hope. Hungry women are not fed by this, battered women are not sheltered by it, raped women do not find justice in it, gays and lesbians do not achieve legal protections through it.

- Martha Nussbaum, The Professor of Parody

#judith butler #postmodernism #martha nussbaum #the professor of parody #feminism #radical feminism #intersectional feminism

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jellypipemedia · 3 years

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Art Industry and Equality

The Artist Industry, an industry that lets self-expression come out in a number of mediums.

As an Artist myself, i can tell you how wonderful it has been to have a creative outlet like my multimedia. To express my ideas and watch the momentum of my work turn into something special. As many other Artists, it’s hard to find that validation and legitimacy in the industry that defines you as a professional and makes your career into more than a ‘hobby’. Some find that struggle more intense than others.

The idea that ‘All Artists have to struggle’ is a common ideology but beyond that- do all artists struggle in the same ways? Of course not. This could be combated with a number of different perspectives based off of different talent levels and different environments but commonly, artists are not given the same opportunities based off of more than just their talent. Different aspects come into play.

The Artist Industry has been known for their inclusive atmosphere and supportive community, but is it set apart from any other industry when it comes to addressing equality issues?

Misogyny/Trans-Misogyny , unequal opportunities based on gender, lack of recognition and the power struggle of legitimacy have all played their part in work industries all over- and the artist industry doesn’t escape that narrative.

A common theme that i find more than any other is women, queer, non-binary, and Fem artists struggle to find their power behind their art because they are usually dismissed, deemed illegitimate, or seen as ‘just a hobby’, or they could ‘make it a real job someday’. Their work isn’t given the credit it deserves or the recognition of legitimate work. Opportunities are missed quite often as work lays in favor of social stigmas and safe investments in uncomplicated people seem to flourish regularly.

Stewing over my thoughts on this, I reached out to my social media circle looking for more perspective on the situation. I was able to connect with a couple of people, ask them their thoughts on how these aspects of the industry have affected them on a professional level and their influence on the industry . I want to keep the dialogue going about this and would love to hear more about the perspective of women, queer, fem, non-binary artists on the industry that claims to be so inclusive.

With that being said, I had a great opportunity to talk with the Founder of ‘Siren Nation’. *

Diving into ‘Siren Nation’ media, I came across their ‘LinkedIn’ page. Their Mission Statement spoke to me and left me wanting to dig just a bit deeper into the foundation of their cause.

“Siren Nation is a unique arts organization that showcases and creates performance and exhibition opportunities for women throughout the year. We are the only women’s collective that produces an annual festival showcasing the original work of women working in music, film, performance and visual art.

Siren Nation’s mission is to inspire and empower women of all ages to create their own art and to highlight the many achievements of women in the arts.”

When I was connected with Natalia Kay O’brien, I didn’t know much about Siren Nation or where our conversation would lead too. I had an idea of where i wanted to take this project, not having much more than a foundation and urgency to keep learning more about the perspectives of women identifying, queer and non-binary.

So, I asked if she’d be willing to help me out by telling her story and giving us an insight on her perspective of the industry.

Natalia:

I'd be super happy to help! There's an amazingly rich queer music scene in Portland and the Pacific Northwest. That is a big part of the reason I moved out here!

From 1999-2010 i produced a lot of events that centered queer folx -some from out of town, some in town.

Jay:

Awesome! I appreciate that a lot about Portland and the PNW. I've grown up in Portland most of my life.

Natalia:

Lucky you!

Jay:

What are some of the events that you produced?

Natalia:

I started out doing house concerts for a spoken word artist out of NYC, then booking shows for/with traveling queer female artists i got connected with over time. I ended up doing the booking for mississippi pizza for a couple of years and got some more experience there producing shows--generally national folk acts--and booking artists. That helped me begin to get more familiar with the local music scene and get introduced to some amazing artists like Laura Gibson, long before they broke out.

My experience and frustration, with the local music scene's dearth of female and queer presence and opportunities to get the kind of exposure that festivals offer, inspired me to found Siren Nation, an organization dedicated to promoting and empowering women artists.

As a queer woman I made sure that there was a strong queer presence during my tenure. We were supposed to have ‘Gossip’ headline the first festival and 3 weeks beforehand they broke their contract!

The seven years I spent with Siren Nation exposed me to new queer artists. Unfortunately, at that time, there was no such thing (in terms of identity) as nonbinary, and we didn't put enough effort into be trans inclusive. We produced, and they still do, 2 tribute nights, one for dolly parton, one for billie holiday, that have been happening annually for something going on 15 years! and then the annual festival, in november, which i produced from 2007-2010.

Jay:

That's absolutely awesome that you contributed so much to the queer/fem community. I know how intensely hard it can be to demand that recognition and be seen as legitimate in the eyes of the world. It's no small thing. Can you give me an example of a time where you’ve experienced misogyny/trans-misogyny that directly affected your work as an artist?

Natalia:

I was tired of not seeing enough women and women-fronted acts on local festival lineups when there were SO MANY amazing female bands. My work as an artist (visual) has been almost entirely a private endeavor. however i do think there is a correlation between the fact that i considered my drawing 'doodling' and i'm a woman. I made art for years before I took on the identity and claimed it. I still squirm a little.

Jay:

I can totally understand that. I deeply feel like the accomplishments of women are often made out to be 'A nice hobby' or 'could be a job someday.'

Natalia:

Yes, exactly.

I can tell you as a booking agent for queer female artists in an industry that is heavily male, did not make for the most hospitable environment to work in. Getting club bookers to book an artist whose press kit screams 'radical feminist lesbian" let alone that she was doing spoken word which was just emerging...well, ultimately all they cared about was whether we could fill a room. There were some venues that didn't want to deal with us, in more conservative parts of the country, i.e. midwest and southeast.

I think trans-misogyny was unfortunately a little baked into Siren Nation in the sense that trans women have remained almost invisible within that space. Not enough queers involved with siren nation after I left!

So I tackled showcasing as many media as possible--music, film, visual arts and later fashion and comedy.”

Jay:

That's a powerful tool in today's world too. Being someone who is involved in a variety of media ( myself as well) is a powerful weapon to today's world of perspective. We have a lot more influence than people credit us for. Have you been affected by any people that are positive influencers in the queer community/have given inspiration to you personally?

Natalia:

The artists inspire me!! That's part of why I produced events because I truly believe in the artists and want to help them connect with a larger audience and want people to get exposed! Bands like Team Dresch, who really blazed trails for queer women punks, all around the country at a time when there was virtually no queer presence in media. Beth Ditto and Gossip, for being fearlessly brash, unashamedly fat, and a force! Women who were unafraid to be loud when it wasn't the norm yet--Sleater Kinney, Bikini Kill too!--inspired me and they were tackling issues that I cared about as a feminist in ways that I didn't see straight women doing.

I will never ever forget seeing Bikini Kill and Kathleen Hannah telling all the 'boys to go to the back'. It blew my mind having stopped moshing b/c it wasn't safe and she demanded and created that space

Jay:

I can definitely vouch for queer punk artists being a heavy influence in the queer community and causing pressure on 'social norms'! It's very empowering and the women in the scene are not a force to be reckoned with. It's still astonishing how such a positive and empowering movement got met with so much resistance.

Natalia:

Kinda like what I wanted to do with Siren Nation. Yeah, some people can't handle a strong woman especially if she is in any way not gender/hetero conforming.

Jay:

I'm sure Siren Nation impacted a lot of people to be the ferocious and powerful people they knew they were.

Natalia:

I hope so!! I know it was a space where, for example, at the tribute shows, artists got to meet and mingle backstage, and spontaneous collaborations would happen.

Jay:

That's the best part of festivals in general. Bring artists from all over and to create that opportunity for networking and creativity.

Natalia:

Right!??!

Practically every female artist who has broken out nationally performed at Siren Nation at some point and offering free workshops was an important way for us to empower and encourage women to create and make their own art.

Jay:

That's awesome! Does Siren Nation still have a website that I can reference too?

Natalia:

Yup! Sirennation.org

As an audience, I found festivals an amazing opportunity to get exposed to new artists.

Most of the language there that is about the organization, like mission statements and values, is mine.

Jay:

So why have you decided not to produce events for Siren Nation more recently? or does the organization take care of itself nowadays?

Natalia:

I left in 2010 because i was pursuing a masters degree, basically decided to pour all the hours and energy i had put into siren nation into a degree that would get me a salary for doing that kind of work. My co-founder December Carson has stayed at the helm and kept it going all these years. There are some longtime volunteers who help at events.

My dream that someday it could be a salaried job I finally realized was not going to be feasible

Jay:

That's a positive transition out of the organization tho! Did you get your master's degree?

Natalia:

Yes! It helped to know that it would carry on after I left, because it was my baby and I was very attached! It has thrived over the years due to the dedication of the board members who make it happen. New blood comes in, and then they add fashion and comedy. It's been neat to see how it has evolved over the years and yes, I got my Masters, in Public Administration.

Jay:

That's so so so good to hear Thank you so much for talking with me today- you have really been insightful and this is truly very inspirational to hear as a queer woman in the multimedia industry!

With ending our conversation, I felt like I made a breakthrough on what direction I wanted to take this project and found the encouragement to keep pushing through the media and highlight these amazing women, non-binary, and queer people.

We lack recognition for being who we are while we make it in this industry. We struggle and fight back - gaining ground and getting traction.

I’m excited to see where this project takes me and I'm glad to have you all on this journey. Stay alert for more to come!

#Art Industry #art #journalism #punk #punkscene #inequality #queer #trans #woman #women

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femsolid · 4 years

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Hey, not to be a bother but i just want to ask about your thoughts on the Femen group ? I am really interested in your opinion on that matter especially as you are French and a radical feminist. Happy Hollidays 🎄

I hope you don’t mind me answering this publicly, it’s because I’m also interested in other people’s opinion on the matter.

I have to say I've pretty much stayed away from the Femens because I've always felt ambivalent about them. I have some friends who are femens so I know there are genuine feminists in this group and I think these women are very brave. They often end up surrounded by men who love nothing more than to beat them up, sometimes they even end up in prison. I don't like criticizing the way people protest when they do more than me on the matter. I've never interrupted a neo nazi meeting, or a muslim meeting about women where only men are allowed to talk... At least they do something and it's more than using a hashtag on twitter, they take risks, nobody likes women with opinions, screaming in men's face, talking over them, it's dangerous.

But I'm not a fan of women protesting topless or naked. Liberals and vegans do this a lot. I suppose the Femens wanted to de-sexualize women's body by using it as a political platform. In the end it's still objectifying and men enjoy it. It's become the main way we identify Femens hasn't it ? Naked breasts. Maybe that was also their point : getting attention by taking off their clothes. It's not subversive at all. If you play by the rules are you really defying the rules ?

I've also noticed the Femens who became the most famous are the ones who would be considered the most attractive by society's standard. For a long time I thought all femens were thin, white, with long hair and small, perky breasts. That's actually not the case. But it's all we see because this type of protest is easy to turn into a commodity in a porn saturated society. Men see breasts, they click, men see breasts, they watch.

And at the end of the day one also has to wonder, after several years, what has such a powerful organisation achieved for women's rights ? Maybe someone who knows more than me on the subject can tell me because I'm not aware of anything. I hope I'm wrong. Where does the money go ? And where does it come from ?

I've been told that this organisation was founded by men which would make it suspicious. If your movement is championned by your oppressors then something is wrong, right ? In fact, I remember that time in Paris, on «women's day» (as it's often reduced), there were different feminist booths and there was the Femen booth, selling goodies I think, it was hosted by men, not a woman in sight.

When I see a friend jumping on a beauty pageant scene, screaming that women are not objects and all the men get upset and angry at her, I'm proud. When I see her get arrested while men safely sell goodies in the background, I'm suspicious.

So, yes, ambivalent is what I am. But if I’m wrong and someone wants to correct me, feel free. Thanks for the question :)

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weather-witch · 5 years

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Maybe we could find common ground if you knew what we stood for.

It has been a while since I was sufficiently frustrated to sit down and write a bit by bit response to a piece of writing, but here I am baffled at how utterly misunderstood our position as gender critical feminists is. However, it is not my frustration nor my bewilderment that has me writing this tonight after sitting in Auckland traffic for over an hour. Nope. It is a pathetic skerrick of hope I have that if people who have expressed so much hate for us can be so fundamentally wrong about what we stand for then perhaps if they learnt the truth we could find just a little bit of middle ground.

Gotta love a trier, right?

The piece is What is ‘Gender Critical’ anyway? On essentialism and transphobia by Danielle Moreau — hopefully I can help her find out.

Transphobes are having a moment in Aotearoa. Attempts to pass a bill allowing transgender people to change the sex on their birth certificates without having to go through the courts have been met by vigorous opposition from a small but well-organised group of Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminists (TERFs) or — as they would rather be called — ‘gender critical feminists’. These activists, who probably number in the dozens rather than thousands, have been joined on social media and petition websites by a large contingent of overseas allies, most notably from the UK. In the process, we have learned of the existence in that country of a trans-exclusionary subculture that has been radicalised by, of all places, the parenting forum Mumsnet.

First of all, thank you. Our campaign to halt the BDMRR Bill and sex self-identification was hard work and I appreciate that you could see how well organised it was. However, the persistent myth that we are two ‘TERFs’ in a trenchcoat is as ever totally inaccurate. Likewise, the conspiracy theory of an army of Mumsnet poms wielding cups of tea and scary opinions is laughable. We are in contact with gender critical feminists in the UK though…and Canada…the United States, Australia, France, South Korea, Portugal, Argentina, Nigeria, and more. There is an international community of gender critical feminists because we are all fighting a lot of the same battles. We support each other; commiserate, celebrate, and share resources. We are just like any other community.

It may be a good time, then, to examine what being ‘gender critical’ actually means.

At first blush, the phrase ‘gender critical feminist’ is essentially meaningless: all feminism is ‘gender critical’ by definition. The TERF label is at least partially descriptive, since exponents of this ideology are certainly trans-exclusionary, but it may be too generous to suggest that they are either radical or feminists. Feminism is a big tent, but it is hard to welcome into it a group so dedicated to returning us to the values of the Victorians.

Feminism is at its roots (that’s where the name Radical Feminism comes from by the way) gender critical. Past iterations of feminism were entirely gender critical, but there is little that can be said to be gender critical about third wave feminism. This is why gender critical feminists reject it. We prefer the radical analysis of our foremothers. Radical does not mean wild or extreme it simply refers to “relating to or affecting the fundamental nature of something”. It is about stripping everything back and analysing the nature of female oppression. For gender critical or radical feminists our “central tenet is that women as a biological class are globally oppressed by men as a biological class.”

What makes TERF ideology reactionary rather than radical is its dedication to binary gender essentialism. The concept of gender essentialism is practically timeless, and reaction to it is key to understanding why feminist theory exists in the first place. Gender essentialism is the idea that there is an innate, immutable ‘womanness’ or ‘manness’ which expresses itself in what we consider ‘femininity’ or ‘masculinity’. It posits, for example, that women as a group are naturally more caring and empathetic and men as a group are more aggressive and clever, and — crucially — that these gendered qualities exist inherently, without societal influence. Another key aspect of essentialism is that it is often, but not always, tied to bodies and ‘biology’. So, because a lot of women give birth, gender essentialism associates childcare with women because they are biologically ‘destined’ for it.

I’ll ignore the incorrect use of the word radical for the rest of this piece and move on to the extraordinary claim that we are dedicated to “gender essentialism.” Not only are gender critical feminists not gender essentialists, we are actually the complete opposite. In our CRITIQUE of gender we are more accurately described as gender ABOLITIONISTS. There is nothing immutable about gender. It is not innate. Rather, based on thousands of years of socialisation, survival, hierarchy, and oppression, gender is the set of stereotypes and roles that we as societies have imposed on the sexes. A more accurate moniker for gender critical feminists would be “sex essentialist”. That is because we believe that it is our biological sex and our biological sex alone that makes us women. It is not the gender stereotypes that we are socialised to associate with womanhood. It is not the “empathy” or outward expressions of femininity like how we dress or style our hair. Our POTENTIAL to become pregnant is a core part of our femaleness and it is central to a lot of the experiences women have in common. I say ‘potential’ because not all women want to or are able to get pregnant. However, it is society’s perception of us as potential ‘breeders’ that brings with it some of our most acute oppressions around bodily autonomy and biological functions.

I am going to take my refutation of the assertion that gender critical feminists are “gender essentialists” a step further. I contend that it is in fact proponents of gender identity ideology who are gender essentialist. After all, it is they who think gender is so innate that someone can be born in the wrong body. They conceptualise gender as a kind of soul that exists as separate from the biology of the person. Is it not terribly gender essentialist to suggest that a man who feels an innate sense of ‘womanness’ because he is (perhaps) empathetic, nurturing, gentle, sensitive, and presents femininely, must actually be a woman? Because no man could possibly possess those characteristics and present in that way? Rather than embrace the feminine man or the masculine women, gender identity ideology would have them switch place to ‘match’ their gender identity to the ‘appropriate’ sex.

Destined for it?

Feminism’s first wave, popularly associated with the suffragists of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, bought into gender essentialism in a big way. This wasn’t entirely their fault, for several reasons. They were heavily influenced by the dichotomous Victorian concept of ‘separate spheres’ for men and women — men in the world, women in the home — even if they tried to reject it in some limited ways. ‘HOUSEKEEPERS need the ballot to regulate the sanitary conditions under which they and their families must live… MOTHERS need the ballot to regulate the moral conditions under which their children must be brought up’, said the New York Woman Suffrage Association in 1915. The suffrage movement was more broadly linked to things like the temperance movement, and the temperance movement used essentialist ideas about women and their caring, empathetic natures in order to influence politics and get alcohol banned. (Alcohol was a huge issue for women mainly because they had so few other legal rights, and so drunk husbands could beat and rape them with no real recourse. We know now, unfortunately, that alcohol is not the thing doing the raping and beating.)

I have nothing to dispute here, but I will just point out that the history of the construction of public toilet facilities specifically for women is a fascinating part of the opening up of the public sphere to the female sex class.

Another reason for the first wave’s reliance on essentialism is that reliable contraception had yet to be invented. If you are not familiar with feminist theory, the cause and effect may seem quite tenuous here, but it is difficult for anyone to conceive of non-gendered, unfettered humanity if you are forced into a brood mare situation from young adulthood. As a result of these factors, among others, the first wave had painted itself into a theoretical corner with its essentialism. Buying into dichotomist ideas about gender used by patriarchy since time immemorial meant accepting hard limits. It meant accepting inferiority and never being able to achieve true equity.

I don’t agree that first wave feminists “relied” on gender essentialism. The realities of their sex (as you point out with reference to the lack of contraception) and the gender roles they enacted were simply all they knew. They weren’t using gender essentialism. It was the framework in which they existed and in fighting for a place in political life they were only beginning to peel the layers off their oppression.

With few exceptions, the second wave of feminist theory questioned and rejected gender essentialism. One of the important aspects of why the second wave was different from the first wave of feminist theory is that by this stage reliable contraception had being invented, accepted, and come into wide use. People were, for the first time, able to divorce their existence from sexual reproduction. Linda Cisler, in 1969: ‘different reproductive roles are the basic dichotomy in humankind, and have been used to rationalize all the other, ascribed differences between men and women and to justify all the oppression women have suffered.’ Feminists argued that social influence was the primary reason we assumed women were such-a-way and men were such-a-way; that men had written nearly all the history and psychology to that date; that patriarchy created hegemonic propaganda based on binary essentialist ideas. Second-wave writers were exhilarated by the newfound theoretical power to refute their inferiority, and you can feel it emanating from their engaged, emphatic, often uproarious writings.

In this paragraph, you see the beginnings of the gender critical movement. We as a movement identify far more with second wave feminism than with the convoluted nonsense that has followed. Cisler’s quote neatly encapsulates our true position on sex and gender. This is gender critical theory.

The second wave did, of course, get many things wrong. It tried to use its new powers of analysis to make ‘womanness’ many different things, theorising that women were a ‘class’, or ignoring voices that dealt with racism. Many of its ideas weren’t nuanced. Being associated with their bodies for their whole lives, and exploited within those bodies, gave some feminists from this era problematic ideas about sex and sexuality. There was also a subculture of hippy mysticism that associated the female reproductive organs with purity or power.

It is bizarre and, I cynically think, intentional that this idea of gender critical feminists as only white keeps getting rolled out. Believe it or not, when founder of race critical theory, Kimberlé Crenshaw, coined the term ‘intersectionality’, she used it to analyse the intersections of sex, race, and class, and this analysis is a core part of gender critical theory. This piece by Dr Holly Lawford-Smith explains really well what intersectionality really is and what it isn’t. We understand the ways race and class make us different while analysing how as a female class our lived experiences are unique from our male counterparts.

Call me a hippy, but I love celebrating the wonder of the female body. The world we live in is a jumble of phallic one-up-manship. The male is everywhere; our architecture, art, cultures, everything! Phalluses everywhere! I love that second wave feminists decided to do a bit of collective self love. As females we are pitted against our own body from day dot and I fail to see what is wrong with celebrating its power. To be honest, it is a bit of fun too. Having shared iconography that represents shared realities is a wonderful part of bonding as a community of any kind.

However, although feminists with uteruses or vaginas wanted to know more about them — because that knowledge had been systematically hidden or controlled by ‘men of science’ — they rejected being defined by their bodies. Binary gender essentialism was, in sum, not the primary theoretical view of second-wave feminists. In fact, second-wave theory laid much of the groundwork for our current, welcome conception of a society-wide removal of a restrictive gender binary. Karen Sacks wrote in 1970: ‘For women to merely fight men would be to miss the point. The point is to change the social order …. Perhaps for the first time in human history we are faced with the possibility of a pan-human, non-exploitative society.’ By 1986 Judith Butler had taken the ideas of Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex to their logical conclusion: ‘it is no longer possible to attribute the values or social functions of women to biological necessity … it becomes unclear whether being a given sex has any necessary consequence for becoming a given gender.’

Women still don’t know enough about our bodies. Research and funding for male bodies and medicine far outstrips that for females. Simply compare the money and care that has gone into developing erectile dysfunction medication to the relative void of information on the debilitating condition endometriosis which affects approximately 10% of women. The true form of the clitoris and all its glory were not known until shamefully recently either. We have every right to be obsessed with learning about our bodies; there is so much yet to learn.

Judith Butler has a lot to answer for. Her post-modern, deconstructive anarchism is at the heart of the worst parts of gender identity ideology. Please tell me you aren’t going to quote Foucault. However, that particular quote is one of her more benign. She is right that as women we should not be valued primarily on our biological ability to bear life. Our lives need not be dictated by breeding, however, that does not erase our bodies. It does not erase the fact that society still treats us in certain ways because of their perception of our ability to become pregnant. We are still oppressed in many ways because we belong to the sex class of female.

TERFs ultimately tie rights to body parts. Their approach seems to be that, because women were originally oppressed to some extent because of their bodies, their rights should be forever tied to qualities within those bodies, when in fact the precise opposite is true. Their reactionary ideology, with its obsession with binary gender essentialism, is actively harmful to all genders. TERFs aren’t even calling back to the second wave — they’re calling back to the first wave. Their ideas are over one hundred years old, and they aren’t good ones.

This is a bizarre conclusion to draw. But I’m glad I got to the end without having to read a Michel Foucault quote so, thank you. I have a question for you, Danielle. A genuine one.

If not because of our bodies, our sex, why were and are women oppressed?

It is our bodies which have always differentiated us from men. It is the fact, as you say, that before contraception we spent our lives pregnant and in the home. It is our bodies and our potential to become mothers that sees us valued less in the workforce (as well as gendered sex stereotypes). It is because we are female that we are overwhelmingly the victims of sexual violence, but rarely the perpetrators. It is because we are female that in some parts of the world little girls have their genitals mutilated, are married off to men, and deprived of education. I am terribly and genuinely confused as to what you think sexism, female oppression, and male violence are, if not based around our respective realities as members of our sex classes. What is feminism for if not to liberate the female sex class?

This does not mean that any of this oppression is our destiny. However, we simply must know what we are fighting for and against if we are to effect change. Sex is WHY we are oppressed. Gender is HOW we are oppressed.

I really hope you read some of this at least. I’m not telling you how to think, I’m telling you how we think. You have seriously misunderstood our position on things that seem to form the basis for why you hate us. It is your choice if you wish to still paint a picture of us as the antithesis of decency, but I wanted to make sure you’re at least hating us for positions we actually hold.

My Twitter DMs are always open for respectful, confidential conversation. I welcome questions and hope that maybe some of you who are afraid to be seen engaging in taboo subjects with blacklisted people will feel comfortable to reach out privately.

We need to talk to avoid further misunderstandings.

#ani o'brien #gender critical #radical feminism #radfem #gendercritical

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so-shiny-so-chrome · 5 years

Text

Witness: Jaetion

Creator name (AO3): Jaetion

Creator name (Tumblr): Jaesauce

Link to creator works: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaetion/works

Creator name (other platform- please specify): Pillowfort: Jaetrix

Q: Why the Mad Max Fandom?

A: MMFR movie was incredible! It hit all of my sweet spots. And the fandom is great: really supportive people, creative fanworks, and great discussions. I've been playing around with fandoms online for a long time and I've met some awesome people, but the MMFR fandom is just chocked full of interesting fans and ideas (like this spotlight!).

Q: What do you think are some defining aspects of your work? Do you have a style? Recurrent themes?

A: Oof, I'm not sure. I think my style is a lot of conversation, and very little and very poorly written action? As far as themes go, I love referencing music. Music is important to me, so it usually influences my writing. I identify as a feminist and try to put progressive messages into my stuff. I try to write women who form relationships, live their lives, and drive the plot without having to play second banana to men. On a similar, I like writing/reading sex scenes that are fun and funny for the people involved - enthusiastic yes from both/all parties. (Unless I'm filling a fic request that specifies something else, of course.)

Q: Which of your works was the most fun to create? The most difficult? Which is your most popular? Most successful? Your favourite overall?

A: “Take the A Train" was fun because I love writing about NYC. But the stories in "Citadel City Serenade" have definitely been the most rewarding. I really like trying to fit plots and characters together, and it feels awesome when things snap into place. "Six-String Soldier" is my most popular fic, probably because I started writing it right around the release of the movie and it's shippy. Overall... hm, I think my favorite MMFR thing I've written might be "Metal Bars." I think I did a pretty decent mix of kid naivety and shitty oppression.

Q: How do you like your wasteland? Gritty? Hopeful? Campy? Soft? Why?

A: Hopeful, but realistic, I think. With everything that's going on in politics, both in America and internationally, and the unbearably awful reports on climate change, I need to cling to some remnants of hope or else I'll just lie on the floor and never get up. I love solarpunk! Reclaiming/recreating the world is what interests me.

Q: Walk us through your creative process from idea to finished product. What's your prefered environment for creating? How do you get through rough patches?

A: I write drafts, either as notes on paper or outlines in Google docs. I have a bunch of notebooks full of fragments. I do a lot of editing - I have a hard time articulating things, so it takes a number of attempts until I get it right (or at least close to right). When I get stuck, I read fic. There are so many talented authors who've produced so many amazing stories that it's pretty easy to find something inspiring.

Q: What (if any) music do you listen to for help getting those creative juices flowing?

A: Folk music! I have a couple of playlists on Spotify specifically for writing Mad Max fic.

Q: What is your biggest challenge as a creator?

A: Writing! Specifically writing something good! I'm not sure if this counts as a challenge, but I also struggle with self doubt; posting something that gets no attention really sucks and it's hard not to take poor reviews/no reviews as a personal affront.

Q: How have you grown as a creator through your participation in the Mad Max Fandom? How has your work changed? Have you learned anything about yourself?

A: I've never attempted to write something as long as "Six-String Soldier," or the whole series of "Citadel City Serenade," really. Trying to manage a couple of different timelines at once with different POVs has been complicated and fun. Because of this fandom, I've also been writing more articles for the Fanlore wiki and tracking down references/resources for preservation. I'm an archivist and being able to use some of my professional skills in fandom and even develop them has been sort of neat.

Q: Which character do you relate to the most, and how does that affect your approach to that character? Is someone else your favourite to portray? How has your understanding of these characters grown through portraying them?

A: I probably relate most to Max: tired, wants to be alone, many grunts. But I prefer to write the Wives. They're so fascinating, each in their own way. I love how distinct they are and yet how well they work as a team. The first few times I saw the movie, I focused on Furiosa as the feminist hero that we all needed, but the more I watched and the more I read, the more I realized just how courageous, intelligent, and yes, feminist the Wives are. Victory doesn't require fighting and heroes don't need to be killers. The Wives achieve so much over the span of the story without physically fighting.

Q: How do you translate various elements from the film, such as the theme of the importance of bodily autonomy and critiques of an oppressive ruling class, into a modern setting?

A: This is an amazing question, thank you for asking! MMFR portrays a reality that is uncannily close to our own - In fact, it might as well be a peek into our future. In my mind, there's not even much of a need to translate those elements/themes because oh god we're dealing with them right now. What I was trying to translate with "Citadel City Serenade" is the victory of the characters over those adversities. In MMFR, the characters participate in violent, bloody battle; in CCS, they start social movements. Which is something we can do in the real world! Marches, protests, grassroots activism in general are tools we can use - Music, art, hell even gardening can be parts of a revolution.

Q: Do you ever self-insert, even accidentally?

A: Nope! I'm far too pathetic to survive in the wasteland. Hopefully I'll just die in the initial blast.

Q: Do you have any favourite relationships to portray? What interests you about them?

A: Yes! I'm a shipper at heart, so I am all about the couples. My two favorites are Capable/Nux and Toast/Slit. I love having the women be the ones leading the relationships - not only setting the boundaries but also expanding the War Boys world into completely new territory. I'm also totally into male characters who are sexually inexperienced. Alpha male dudes are meh in my opinion - Give me someone sweet and enthusiastic, someone whose love is based on respect, someone whose enthusiastic about learning. I think Nux is firmly in the category of awesome boyfriend, and I like trying to figure out how to lead Slit in that direction. There's also the idea of redemption in their relationships that I find fascinating.

Q: How does your work for the fandom change how you look at the source material?

A: Hm, I think that I definitely view the film through a feminist gaze. It's entirely possible that MMFR is just an action film but that's not my take on it!

Q: Do you prefer to create in one defined chronology or do your works stand alone?

A: Why or why not?Bit of both! I just want to read, read, read - As long as the fics are well written, it doesn't matter to me if the settings are consistent. As far as my own writing goes, I get so many ideas for fics that it's not really possible to have them all exist in a single chronology.

Q: To break or not to break canon? Why?

A: The great thing about fanfiction is that it's transformative. To me, canon is the foundation, but you can build whatever you want on it. Hopefully I keep the characters close to their canon portrayals, but other than that, I like to mix things up. Also, a modern AU setting just fits so damn well in the Mad Max world. I think also that canon itself can be flexible. Death of the author and all that. Once media is out in the world, it'll be interpreted by the audience - and sometimes those interpretations are vastly different from one another.

Q: Share some headcanons.

A: I don't really have any! Since most of my stuff is AU, the headcanons are limited to those settings.

Q If you work with OCs walk us through your process for creating them. Who are some of your favourites?

A: I have a smatterings of OCs who populate the world as background characters: Vuvalini, milking mothers, and War Boys. I played a MMFR tabletop RPG a couple of years ago, and my character from that and an NPC she saved both ended up in 6-String. That particular War Boy (Stacks) now has a couple of fans and so I've been giving him more screentime, as it were. He's sort of interesting as a foil to Nux and Slit: those two have girlfriends to learn from, but Stacks is on his own as he tries to escape from the WB life.

Q: If you create original works, how do those compare to your fan works?

A: I do! I participate in NaNo every year. I think my fanfiction is better than my original stuff since I write, since the fanfic is intended to be shared and thus I have to write decently enough to get readers. However my stuff tends to be in the speculative fiction genre, so that's something my fanfic and original fic share.

Q: What are some works by other creators inside and outside of the fandom that have influenced your work?

A: There are so many! In Mad Max, @supergirrll, @redcandle17, pbp (@primarybufferpanel), @bonehandledknife, Tyellas (@thebyrchentwigges), and hell all of the Boltcutters are all really important; the early writers of Nux/Capable fics also really influenced and inspired my love of the characters and the ships. Spicyshimmy, an author in the Dragon Age fandom, has also been one of my favorite authors for years, and I return to her stuff regularly to see how awesome writing can be.

Q: What advice can you give someone who is struggling to make their own works more interesting, compelling, cohesive, etc.?

A: I struggle with this myself, so I don't think I really have an answer unfortunately other than read everything you can get your hands on, write everything you can think of. I write basically what I want to read; if I can make the reader!me happy, then at least I've satisfied one person. However, what I consider interesting, compelling, etc, isn't always what other people want. Maybe my advice is to try not to take it personally when your hard work isn't rewarded. Which again, I'm not always able to do.

Q: Have you visited or do you plan to visit Australia, Wasteland Weekend, or other Mad Max place?

A: Yes, Wasteland Weekend! It was a lot of fun and I'm hoping to go again. Being able to immerse myself in the world was a great experience - A totally new way for me to engage with fandom.

Q: Tell us about a current WIP or planned project.

A: Still chugging along with "Citadel City Serenade!" The two main stories in that series are going to intersect in a meaningful way soon. In fact, they're going to crash. Looking forward to getting that out there (and getting it done!).

Thank you @jaesauce

#Mad Max Fandom Spotlight #Mad Max fandom #mad max fandom creator spotlight #fury road fandom #fanfic author spotlight #mad max fanfic author spotlight #Jaetion

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kababage95 · 6 years

Text

Apophatic Feminism

As with my last “essay” (not sure it should be called that but as I can’t think of a better word it’s what we are going with), I am not an expert on anything written below. I have not studied sociology or gender studies or anything on feminism. The below is my opinion and I am always open to discussing anything written below (with one exception that is pointed out at the time).

There is a philosophical theory (Apophatic Theology) that the only way to truly describe god is through describing what he is not, so perhaps I will try applying this idea to feminism. There are a number of things that feminism does not mean, and once people understand what it isn’t, perhaps then they will be willing to admit to themselves and the world that they are in fact a feminist.

Feminism is not the hatred of men. Gender stereotypes are, in reality, against the nature of feminism. Given this, the notion of “men suck” falls squarely into the category of anti-feminist. Indeed, when you really get into it, feminism tries to challenge the ideas that men are emotionless, aggressive and impulsive. What feminism does realise it that men have privilege. It accepts that this privilege can be used for good or for bad depending on the person, but that privilege is undeniable. When people, whoever they are, use privilege to assert power over other people, its part of a democratic society that we are allowed to call those people out on it, and that’s what feminism seeks to do. At its heart feminism is a social justice movement. This means that it absolutely should place the welfare of those that are most harmed above the ego of any who would benefit from the privilege that it seeks to remove. Note however that this clearly isn’t about how men are, or how they should be. It is a fact of the world that men have more power than women. It is this imbalance that feminism seeks to change; not because it wants to hurt men, but because it aims to free people from expectations and stereotypes that are harmful to everybody.

Coming off of the first point, whilst feminism is not the hatred of men, it is also not the belief that women are superior. There are a lot of people out there that see feminism as a celebration of womanhood; it isn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that womanhood shouldn’t be celebrated, but let’s make it clear that they are not the same thing. In reality, feminism seeks to challenge the very idea of womanhood. Femininity is a construct of society, and in reality, whilst societal norms confer some benefits to being a woman, they are few and far between and it is for this reason that feminism seeks to challenge the idea of womanhood. Yes, it is considered more socially acceptable for women to be open with their emotions (another notion that feminism seeks to tear down), but is this really suitable recompense for disadvantages such as higher risk of sexual and domestic violence or for being economically disadvantaged? For being denied basic human rights in certain parts of the world and the many other negative side effects of being born with two X chromosomes instead of one X and one Y? Clearly the answer here is no, categorically not. Being a feminist isn’t about saying that being female is better than being male, it’s about wanting to be able to say that being a woman, or any other non-binary gender is as good as being a man and having it be true. At the moment, it simply isn’t.

Moving away from men for a second (feminism isn’t all about men?! Shocking I know), it should be clear that feminism isn’t the idea that dresses and the colour pink are bad. Feminism is not anti-feminine. You have to hand it to the patriarchy, managing to convince people that feminism is both a hatred of men, and the hatred of things associated with women was a stroke of genius. By doing so, you eliminate the vast majority of those that would otherwise support the movement. Feminists don’t hate the colour pink or wearing dresses (my best friend is the best proponent of feminism that I know and she wears more dresses than anything else). Far from the idea that those things are bad, feminism is the idea that those things shouldn’t be inherently associated with women at all. It’s about being able to understand that certain things have actually been devalued by being classed as feminine; how unusual is it to see things, and even people, being mocked for being feminine? Being a feminist means acknowledging that there is absolutely no valid reason at all for anything to have any gender associated with it and that more than that, gender doesn’t confer value. More than anything else feminism is about choice. If a woman wants to wear a pink dress and be a stay-at-home mum, that doesn’t mean she isn’t a feminist or make her less of a feminist. Equally, a woman who wears a suit and devotes her life to her career is no more or less a feminist.

Building on this idea, and I cant believe I have to make this point, being gay isn’t a bad thing. Let’s get this cleared up right now. Firstly, being LGBTQ is not, in any way, a negative thing. There is no link whatsoever between sexual orientation and being a feminist. More and more I see anti-feminists telling those that identify as a feminist that they are gay, with gay being meant as an insult. Feminist women being called lesbians because feminists must hate men. Feminist men being called gay because its “girly” to be a feminist. This is the one part of this “essay” that I am not willing to have a discussion over. Using any form of sexual orientation as an insult is not acceptable in any situation. Ever. The end. You absolutely can be gay and be a feminist and it is true that being gay may influence a person’s feminism, it’s called intersectionality, look it up. But the two things are not intrinsically linked. Just one final time for those that are struggling, “gay” is NOT okay to use as an insult and “feminist” is not a dirty word. I urge all of you to call out anybody that you hear using gay as an insult, it is not okay. It is despicable behaviour that should be called out at any opportunity.

“Feminists do nothing except complain”. Yeah okay buddy, go crawl back under whatever rock you just crawled out from. There are two things here, firstly, the idea that someone complaining must be feminist, have you seen any of the world ever? The human race took complaining and turned it into a skill that most everybody everywhere has mastered. I really wish that everybody who complained was a feminist, the battle would be over, the entire world would be feminists and gender equality would be achieved tomorrow. Clearly, that’s not the case. Secondly, the idea that the only thing that feminists do in the world is complain is clearly BS. Feminism gives people hope, it makes people laugh and cry and it inspires people. Without feminism women wouldn’t be able to vote, there would be none of the advances in the work place and it would still be acceptable for a husband to force his wife to have sex with him (something that wasn’t illegal in all 50 US states until 1993 and which will be covered in more detail in a separate essay). Feminism has achieved so many things in the last 100 years, it still has a way to go before its aims are fully realised, but its pretty clear that feminism is not only about complaining.

The final thing I want to point out that feminism is not is that it is not the aim of feminism to turn humanity into an identical whole. It is not unusual for feminists to be accused of trying to make humanity one great big homogeny by removing gender roles and for sure, if you are only willing to view diversity as things being male or female then feminism is going to challenge that. But is that really what diversity is? Two groups? To me, diversity is about having an infinite number of groups, of which each individual belongs to any number of. Instead of having men and women, male and female, masculine and feminine, diversity is about recognising that its stupid to try force fit 7 billion (and growing) people into one of two groups. If you were born a man that wants to masculine then that is absolutely fine, nobody is trying to take that away from you. If the stereotypes of the gender you were assigned at birth fits you like a glove then lucky you, and more power to you. But the truth is that for the vast majority of people, those stereotypes leave something to be desired. Feminism is saying that people shouldn’t feel pressured to feel or act in a particular way because the patriarchy deems, from the day you are born, that you should act in a way that conforms to their ideals. What seems to amaze certain people in society is that, when people act in a way that they are being who they truly are, and not in a way that society tells them they must act, the world goes on spinning and doesn’t implode. More than that, when people don’t feel the pressure to behave how others say they must, when people behave how they want to, the world doesn’t divide itself neatly into only two categories, and that’s okay!

So if that’s 6 things that feminism isn’t, then what do I think feminism is? To me, feminism is so many things, but more than anything else, its about choice. Yes it is the political, social and economical equality of the genders but its about choice. It’s about the freedom to choose to not wear make-up or to wear make-up no matter who you are. It’s about it being okay to aspire to be a full time mum or dad. It’s about everybody, everywhere being free to choose who they want to be, without the fear of being judged because “that’s not ladylike” or “that’s girly”. Yawn. Get over yourself. We aren’t born knowing that little girls play with dolls and little boys play with trucks and blocks. My partner of almost 6 years is an Early Years teacher, she works with babies from 6 months up to two years 5 days a week, and let me assure you that there are plenty of little boys who enjoy playing with the dolls and at that age, its generally the little girls who are better at building with the blocks. They don’t know about gender norms until society influences them and, given that, I am forced to conclude that far from trying to implement a new societal norm on society, what feminism is actually trying to do is to revert society back into the way that society would naturally be without 6 millennia worth of misogyny.

That concludes another essay! As before, I fully accept that some of you may not have read all of this as it is really rather long, if you read any of it, I hope you have taken something away from it! For those of you that are curious, I am a white, 22 year old male who currently lives in London and has never lived outside the UK, I had a number of DMs from people asking for that information after the last post so thought I would get ahead of it this time!

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heartists · 6 years

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headcanon: on showcases and gender.

it’s a well-known fact that in canon, only females are allowed to participate in showcases. this is the gateway to a huge can of worms, which i’ll talk about here.

Showcases as a Feminist Initiative

the first showcase was actually held for quite the opposite purpose as showcases are held today. instead of being a field dominated mainly by wealthy women who sought to please the male gaze, it was a movement by lower-middle class and working-class women. in an age where many women were forbidden from using pokémon at all, and in which pokémon use for entertainment was seen as a properly masculine domain, this was seen as an important step toward womens’ empowerment. the original reason why showcases are women-only is because it was a place for women to show that they were capable of handling pokémon just as well as their male counterparts.

however, as time wore on, pragmatics began to weigh on the burgeoning movement. not a lot of people were interested in or wanted to support the “antics” of these working-class girls who thought they could control their pokémon better than the men they worked with. when the derosier family offered to give them a future, the head of the showcase industry--a woman named michelle bisset--couldn’t say no. she and her girls loved performing so much and more than anything they wanted a chance to show the world that they were good performers, so they had to make a concession: pretty themselves up more, and do it for the men. the most notable change became to get rid of the battling phase, as women battling was still considered unladlylike. the joke was on the derosiers, though--nowadays, contests with battling phases are much more popular than showcases without them, and female coordinators are often more popular than showcase performers. moreover, showcases did make an impact that allowed women to be more accepted in traditional battling--and later paved the way for contests to become an accepted genre of pokémon entertainment for women.

(side note: the showcase industry has changed hands multiple times before falling back into the hands of alexandre derosier. more on that later.)

Monsieur Pierre’s Past And Showcases’ Future

i’ve always headcanoned that monsieur pierre, the main emcee of all major showcases, is the child of palermo, a world-famous kalos queen and the biggest name in showcases today other than algerian-born lalla mokrani, the founder of pokémon contests in kalos and the most notable kalos queen of the modern age. as a child, he won the title of junior kalos queen, and as a teen, he competed in the regular competition so that he could reach his mother’s height. but as he continued to perform and to strive for the title of kalos queen, he always felt there was something wrong. though he loved being in the spotlight, he never quite felt comfortable with being a girl. he wanted to dress up not in frilly skirts but in suit and tie; he wanted to not be known as michelle, like the woman who’d “sold out” the showcase industry, but as pierre, like the grandfather he so admired.

after years of wrestling with these feelings, he closed his eyes and hoped that his grandfather would be smiling down from heaven at his choice: he publicly came out as trans, and stepped down from the stage.

his mother refused to speak to him for years.

he tried to forget about all that by diverting his energy and his performative talents into the coordinating industry, which was inclusive of all genders in terms of who could go onstage. meanwhile, his mother tried to forget that she even had a child, always changing the subject when people brought up pierre, always referring to him by his birth name and as “my daughter.” simply by not filling her shoes he had disappointed her; not to mention, this was long before the trans identity started to become more accepted, so she could hardly understand her son’s decision. but as the years went by, pierre found that he could not brush away his mother so easily--he thought of her and her rejection constantly, to the point that he wanted to die. but unbeknownst to him, palermo’s heart was starting to change--she missed her son desperately, and the fact that as the years passed cis people grew more accepting of trans people weighed on her mind a lot. every day she looked herself in the mirror and thought, am i really going to push away my only child because he’s trans?

and finally, she decided the answer to that question would be no.

she was the first one to reach out to him. she called him by his proper name and said she couldn’t be sorry enough for what she’d done to him, and that she wanted another chance to be his mother like she should have been. there was a part of pierre that wanted to just push her away and be done with her, but he had missed her so much that he couldn’t bear to do it. shakily, the two of them embraced. she allowed him to return to the pokémon showcase scene as emcee, where he gladly stepped up to show that trans people do have a place in showcases and to help young girls achieve their dreams. nowadays things are still tense between them, but at the very least, they seem to be getting better.

now how does this influence the performing industry? for one thing, trans girls, gender-neutral and genderfluid people were historically not allowed to compete in showcases, but pierre has been advocating for their inclusion. he’s also a big supporter of men getting to take part in showcase activity, and thinks it would be nice for young boys to learn that it’s okay to be interested in something so greatly associated with femininity. far from being just the guy who announces stuff, pierre plays a very active role in the showcase community in trying to assure more inclusion and more breaking down of stereotypes--he was instrumental in lifting the ban on trans girls in showcases. he sees this as a pathway back to the original spirit of showcases: proving that everybody can be a capable performer and deserves a place onstage.

Alexandre Derosier’s Dark Influence

things took a dark turn, however, when alexandre derosier bought the showcase industry from its previous owner. adam charpentier knew that alexandre was a transphobic, xenophobic, classist fuckwad who would send the showcase scene back into the dark ages into which it had fallen--but he sold it to alexandre anyway because he also sensed that the showcase industry would take a sharp decline in popularity and he didn’t want to be at the head of the ship when the industry finally failed. things happened just as adam had predicted: alexandre reinstituted the ban on trans girls in showcases, and upheld the bans on gender-neutral and genderfluid people participating. he also stripped pierre of his junior kalos queen title, the same way people tried to strip caitlyn jenner of her olympic medals. apart from that, some of the worst things he’s done include: subtly implying that nonwhite contestants don’t deserve to be kalos queen (in spite of palermo being jewish and lalla being algerian). hiking up performer registration prices to turn a profit and exclude those from working-class backgrounds (whose performances he insisted were always worse in quality). making inappropriate sexual comments about teenaged contestants in private, and appearing backstage in the changing rooms à la trump at the miss universe pageant. the list goes on.

overall, ursula doesn’t give a crap about who is and isn’t allowed to compete. in fact, she thought it was better that so many people are excluded based on gender because it means less competition for her. she would never say that out loud, and she isn’t particularly vocal about her transphobia re: showcases, but everyone knows it’s what she’s thinking on the inside since she’s always deafeningly silent whenever the debate about gender inclusion comes up in the showcase community. at home, however, when nobody’s listening? monsieur pierre is the subject of some extremely nasty jokes by the derosiers, and palermo gets dragged down with him because she chose to take his side. as the successor to the showcase industry, ursula is poised to be just as bad as her father with regards to social justice--that is, unless someone can get her malleable young mind to see differently.

#life's not fair and i'm the reason why. || URSULA #headcanon. || URSULA #worldbuilding. || POKÉARTS #we perform in a pokémon world! || WORLDBUILDING #transphobia*#sexism*

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tifarobles · 5 years

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Most Inspirational Characters for My Life

Writing about Disney princesses and video games has made me take a look at what characters (specifically women) are the most inspirational to me personally. This includes not only the primary characters I related to as a child but ones I am glad the next generation has to look up to now.

Tifa Lockhart (Final Fantasy VII):

There are actually a number of Final Fantasy heroines that influenced me - Rinoa, Daggar (Princess Garnet), Aeris, and Terra to name some of the others - but I feel like it’s obvious who inspired me the most.

Let’s start from the beginning. You meet Tifa as a hardcore member of the resistance group, AVALANCHE, and the owner of Seventh Heaven bar in the slums of Midgar. She clearly has her life figured out as an independent woman with strong convictions. Tifa is from the small town of Nibelheim and is seen as wearing a cowgirl hat in flashbacks. She moved to the big city with honorable motivations of changing the world for the better.

She is beautiful and her flirtatious behavior with her childhood friend, Cloud, was relatable to me as a hopeless romantic. They grew up together, but it wasn’t until he was leaving for the war that she started to follow his story and realized that he was more complicated than she’d thought as a child. This is a realistic depiction of young love and wondering “what if” about a developmental time in your life.

Tifa is compassionate towards others, always willing to put their needs before her own. In flashbacks, you learn that she wasn’t always this selfless, dealing with tragedy in childhood and learning to cope with her own issues before being able to help others. This past strengthens the complexity and empathy of her character. During a crucial thematic section of the game, you play as Tifa and see her be the primary influence in Cloud’s journey of finding himself during an episode of chronic depression.

Tifa has a reputation on the internet due solely on her looks. To be honest, I appreciated that she wasn’t defined by her looks in the story at all. Yeah, she’s hot, but she is so much more than that. She proves that looks do not define you. She is an incredibly powerful fighter and often the smart and optimistic voice of the group. Throughout the plot of the game, Tifa’s ability to be a good friend and leader comes to the rescue. She was a fantastic friend to Aeris, despite their competing affections for Cloud, and she is the first person Barret trusts to take care of his daughter, Marlene.

I hoped that I would grow up to be just like her.

Belle (Beauty & The Beast):

I just wrote about my feelings for Belle as a feminist, but I couldn’t complete this list without her. Belle is an outspoken outcast in a small-minded community, something I can relate to. Often lost in her own imagination, she cares more about reading than socializing and would rather talk to animals than humans. Belle was definitely the smartest Princess for her time. She was also incredibly brave, making decisions for the good of her father and her strong sense of adventure. She wanted more from life and found just that with her own decisions and actions.

Belle never lets others make her chooses for her and follows her curiosity wherever it takes her, unafraid of the unknown. This is an admirable quality. She is also in touch with her own emotions, crying when she is sad but quickly wiping her tears away to plan her next steps. Belle doesn’t let the Beast’s temper control her and she doesn’t allow Gaston’s forced advances to make her do anything she doesn’t want to do.

For my generation of Princess movies, this was the one that moved me the most and inspired me to be a strong feminist, choosing my own love story and fate.

Maria Posada (Book of Life):

Maria embodies all of the characteristics I hope to achieve in my own life.

We first meet Maria as a rebellious young girl who decides to release a pin full of pigs, believing that slaughtering them is wrong. She cares deeply for animals, putting their safety above her expectations as a “lady”. Her father sends her away to boarding school, hoping to crush her tenacious spirit. She leaves her childhood friends behind, giving Manolo the advice to always play from his heart. This is a motto we should all consider more in our lives.

Returning from school years later, it’s obvious that her schooling only blossomed her rejection of society’s expected role for her. She has a reputation for reading books for fun (gasp!) and displays her intelligence in many ways. Watching Manolo in his first bullfight, she is the only audience member to applaud when he proclaims that killing the bull is wrong. It was clear to me that she was falling for this sensitive musician.

Standing up to her father, Manolo, and Jauquin, Maria continuously shows that she doesn’t need a man in order to be fulfilled in her life, making Manolo take time and effort to win her affection. She calls out sexism whenever she sees it and ensures to explain it in ways that they will understand. When the boys fight over her, she fights for herself, winning the battle with her own sword fighting techniques. She calls them out for their childish behaviors, refusing Jauquin’s engagement and Manolo’s attempt to kiss her. Her father’s attempts at arranging her marriage only work when her true love is thought to be dead and the town’s safety is at risk, and even then she isn’t happy about the situation.

In the end, Maria helps to save the town, inspiring them to fight back against the villain. Luckily, once the town is rescued she gets to marry for love.

Harley Quinn:

Harley Quinn is a complicated, important character. Her story explores the depths of abusive relationships, mental health issues, bisexuality, and overcoming a troubled past to live for oneself.

Being a professional psychiatrist, she is obviously intelligent and obsessed with the complexities of mental health. It’s no wonder that someone as deeply manipulative as the Joker was able to take advantage of her interest in this area. Their relationship is a very real depiction of abusive relationships, with the power struggle, controlling nature of the relationship, constant attempts to tear her down with insults and win her back with grand gestures., The Joker perpetually tries to tell Harley that she is nothing without him and even attempts to kill her to show his dominance over her and display a lack of a need for her in his life. She proves him wrong, saving him many times and eventually becoming an anti-hero on her own, free from his control. This is a powerful representation for a real issue for women in our society and an inspiration for breaking out of bad habits for a better self and life.

Joining the Gotham Girls, Harley oozes of woman empowerment. The friendship and the love interest between Ivy and Harley is a relationship worth exploring deeper. Yay for bisexual representation!

Harley was originally a very modestly dressed character in her first appearance (in a children’s show, I’d like to point out). I have very mixed feelings about her becoming a sex symbol over the years. I feel like there are many depictions that took this too far, focusing more on her appearance as a source of sex appeal instead of using her appearance to bolster her inner strength.

I totally understand why there was an explosion of Harley Quinn cosplayers and fanart during this movement of a more inclusive industry.

Rey (Star Wars):

Rey is the sci-fi hero that young girls have needed for generations. Rey consistently fights for what she feels is right, following her instincts regardless of how terrifying they might be. She works hard to channel the force and proves to be very powerful.

Living independently and always making decisions for herself, Rey proves that women can lead without the aid of men, but she gladly helps anyone in need (men, droids, or Wookiee) while on her own path. She is skilled at fixing and piloting ships and I get the feeling she can accomplish anything she sets her mind to. Rey’s empathy is so strong, that she does all she can to try to help her own nemesis. This empathy is a powerful trait that I wish we all had more of and seeing that on the big screen is important.

Rey made me care more about the Star Wars universe because I could finally see myself in that world.

What characters influenced your life? What characters do you hope influence the next generation of nerds and geeks?

#feminism #geekdom #nerdom #video games #Disney #star wars #comics

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cleverflowerperson-blog · 5 years

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The Flash: Screenwriters X Public (part II)

Why are not Caitlin and Iris friends?

This is the simplest issue of Flash that has become one of the most complex. Because? Because the audience views Caitlin contextually rather than narratively. Feminists look at Caitlin and see a female scientist working with a superhero. So, Caitlin has to be an example and an inspiration to all the girls who watch the series. Ah! Let's not forget about women's friendships, which should be portrayed correctly, women support each other. There are those who see Caitlin as a competitor of Iris and spend all their time overvaluing Caitlin and depreciating Iris. And finally there are those, who transfers to Caitlin her animosity towards the actress, as well as her world perception of her daily battles.

I know this is a common behavior of all audiences, in any kind of project, but that's not how it works in the narratives, all the problems, frustrations and wars that originated in Caitlin could have been avoided if the public had not looked at it context of the real world, but within the narrative. To this day, in the fifth season, I still see people saying: Caitlin is my favorite character. Caitlin is the best female character in the series. Caitlin is a poorly written character. These statements are embarrassing. No kidding, they are very embarrassing, because after five years the public has not yet discovered that Caitlin is not a character. What? I said it would be violent. That's it, Caitlin Snow is not a character and never was. That's why she is not friends with Iris and is not blamed for what she does. It has nothing to do with privilege, white feminism, competition or bad writing. Incidentally, Caitlin has always been well-written, within her non-character classification, she was poorly illustrated, but never well written.

Being a non-character, Caitlin has to be confined to the narrative. His movements are calculated millimetrically. As well? A non-character is always confined to its purpose, not expanding within the narrative. This is their main characteristic. Because? Because they will be disabled when the purpose of their existence is won, and this deactivation can not do much filth. Okay, but what does this have to do with Caitlin not being friends with Iris and not being held accountable for anything? Simple, do not make dirt.

It works like this: think about Joe West. We `ll kill him. This death was going to do a lot of dirt - Barry would be devastated, Iris devastated, Wally destroyed, Cecily bitter and the other characters would feel their way. Joe's death would have a very large impact on several characters and the narrative, causing a change in the tone of the series until the audience would be traumatized. That is making dirt.

Now let's kill Caitlin; How big is dirt? Would Barry be devastated? The two have a friendship. But is THAT friendship? It's more to be sad for two episodes and life goes on, is not it? How would Iris feel about Caitlin's death? They are not friends, partners, confidants, so I think she would be more to comfort the sad ones than to be comforted. Something else? Cecilia? Is she and Caitlin? Difficult to define this relationship. Wells? Nor is it from Terra Prime. Joe? Does he see her as a daughter? I do not know. Perhaps ...? What kind of relationship does she have with Ralph? Daughter in law?

Let's be honest, Caitlin's death only affects, indeed, a character, Cisco Ramon. The others? Life goes on. That's what I'm talking about, cleanliness, a non-character does not make dirt when it's turned off. And this cleansing is only achieved by controlling the interactions. All of Caitlin's interactions with the characters, except for Cisco, are superficial. No one is able to pinpoint the type and degree of affection the characters cherish for her, of course, minus Cisco and with a lot, but a lot of strength, Barry. Try it.

So keeping Caitlin in an isolation bubble with controlled interactions is critical. Non-characters are like placentas they are important during the formation of babies after childbirth, they have to be eliminated if they otherwise infect and kill the organism. If she had apologized to Iris for Killer Frost, Iris would show resentment over what happened and a lack of confidence in Caitlin's ability to prevent it from recurring. Then Snow would have to make a way to regain this confidence which would lead them both to build an affection, in which case Iris would suffer with the deactivation of Caitlin. I'm increasing the dirt. Whatever Caitlin does wrong the team discovers, but does not react, for the same reason. If the team poses against their behavior, it will have to redeem themselves from the mistake and during this process, it will happen to build a stronger bond with them. That is, more characters suffering with their deactivation, summarizing, infecting the organism.

This is what they avoid by not creating perceptible ties between her and the characters, as well as the non-exploitation of their attitudes. I imagine they must be thinking, as Caitlin may be a non-character if she's been in the narrative for five years. It's a long time for a non-character to remain active. And they are correct, it was already for Caitlin to be disabled since the second season. But as I said, the first season of Flash was a mess. You know what the Barry Allen mess was, now I'm going to show Caitlin Snow's involvement in this mess.

Why was Caitlin Snow so exploited in Season 1 and Season 2?

Now that everyone already knows that Caitlin is not a character, that she is a placenta, I assume that everyone should know who the baby was, who should be nourished by this placenta. Yes. For those who said Killer Frost. She was the target, they had grand plans for her. They planned it for an overwhelming third season, but it all went wrong. Because? Caitlin Snow.

Killer Frost's problem was that Caitlin Snow's illustration was completely wrong. Actors are illustrators of scripts. The script does not bring the depth of pain, the intensity of tears the extent of love, all emotional facets are the illustrators they provide. Writers are heavily dependent on the actors because the scripts are just words, so they make sense the illustration has to be appropriate. And that's exactly where Caitlin Snow is a failure. And also because I always say that Caitlin was never poorly written, she was poorly illustrated.

The actress failed to lead audiences in understanding her narrative. Caitlin needed subtleties to imply to the audience that there was more to it than it seemed. Killer Frost would be in those subtleties. Like Nora West-Allen. She's cute, but everyone knew there was something wrong with her. The public trusted, suspicious. Caitlin had to have this same energy. But that is not what happened. I'm going to do a review of her narrative in the first season, a little different from what you've done about it, so you can visualize it.

For those who have not noticed all the bad that happened in Caitlin's life is related to Flash. Ronnie died for the first time, because Harrison Wells blew the throttle to create Flash. She had her career ruined by her mentor, who was only using it to bring Flash to life. Ronnie came back with a gigantic and unsolved problem, it would forever be a goal, as so many others have been sacrificed to get Flash. Flash decided to travel back in time to save his mother, did not, and even created a singularity, which he could not solve. Which ultimately led to Ronnie's death.

From this perspective it becomes clear, that Caitlin's narrative goal was to produce the motivation of Killer Frost, that is, to justify her hatred for Flash. Each event: Ronnie's death, return, and ultimate death were bred to break Caitlin, they needed her ravaged, raw. Imagine if the great love of your life dies at the height of the relationship and leaves nothing, not a grave to carry flowers. And you live this pain for months. When you are learning to live with this pain, it comes back, can you calculate the joy and how blessed do you feel with a gift of this magnitude? We already loose rockets when it finds an object that already had given as lost, imagines our love, that love. Then suddenly he dies again, and like the other time, without a grave to weep. What a funny joke. If it was to take again, why brought back, why such perversity? What evil did you do to deserve this? This was Caitlin's tone, but the actress did not sell it.

What they were applying was the logic of proportionality, the more Caitlin's pain was, the more cruel Killer Frost was, the more devastated she was, the more insensitive Killer Frost would be, the more bitter Caitlin was, the more perverse Killer Frost would be. And they needed an insane Killer Frost.

However, an illustration was unfortunate, Caitlin's apathy was boring. Is one able to measure the impact of these events, in their amplitude, on it? What was the size of her love for Ronnie? If they had people looking at their heart for Barry, and one of Snowbarry's twos, or both, this love was outdated (it was not big enough to do damage) or it was not noticeable to the public (it was irrelevant). A wasted writing. 23 episodes creating a motivation and the audience did not even connect with the story.

At no moment did Caitlin glance casually at Barry, or laughed triumphantly as he witnessed their failures, and there were many. Caitlin was the usual, pessimistic and slightly melancholic. The actress did not create an environment for Killer Frost to be born. That was the reason for the writers' stress on her. They hoped the actress would understand that Caitlin needed to be a sea, with hangovers, tsunamis and tsunamis because only then would Killer Frost be powerful and incredible as they needed. And what did they get? Caitlin, a nice and tedious lake.

So responding to the question asked, Caitlin's reason for being so exploited in the first and second seasons (because they made a second attempt, now with Jay) was because their emotions were important to bequeathing the evil nature of Killer Frost.

To be continued...

Original source https://omundonarrativa.tumblr.com/

#the flash #barry allen #iris west #caitlin snow #killer frost #snowbarry #westallen #the flash cw #anti iris west #anti westallen #anti snowbarry

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