(For continuity's sake, here's what I've posted as a comment on my last post on Let's Dance:)
I think it was definitely at least in part because he passed that he was taken seriously. (And by the way, thanks for bringing that up, as I hadn't thought of that at all and I'm looking at passing in terms of theory at the moment.)
I would be lying if I said there wasn't any humor in it at all - at one point, he does kiss on of the male judges. Part of his success might be in that Noel Fielding is in "real life" a rather androgynous person (though he doesn't look "girly," exactly). A lot of people, judges included, thought the dance was gorgeous, and if you've ever seen the original Kate Bush video for "Wuthering Heights" (there are two; Fielding uses elements of both), he's actually surprisingly good.
Actually, the audience is really interesting as he goes through the dance - it opens with giggles and people finding it funny, and then it sounds like they're taking it much more seriously, as a genuine performance. Once you get about two-thirds of the way through and he's doing the more technical stuff, they get pretty loud.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=du4uH1fC9B8
(That's the dance, if you're interested.)
(And this one is Jarred Christmas, though I find his performance less interesting:)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cKc3Vwg1tAM
I think another part of this is that Noel Fielding took the dance very seriously; he has a lot of respect for Kate Bush. They've actually got a scene where they play a message she recorded for him, and he's visibly touched. That was interesting, as well - that he felt a connection with the song and that he elected to do something "beautiful" rather than something "sexy" (which is also true of several other men who have successfully cross-dressed for Let's Dance - it's ALWAYS something sexy, and very often by Madonna).
I'm so glad you commented on this one, as it's pretty much my favorite post thus far. I think I'm just going to go turn this into another post now, as I've got more I want to say and this comment is getting ridiculously long.
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Now then.
I took another look at the men who have cross-dressed, and it's all mostly sexy stuff. This makes sense, in a way; Let's Dance for Comic Relief is, in fact, intended to be humorous. Makes sense. Cross-dressing/drag here is a way to be funny, and I can't help but wonder if some of it isn't actually negatively impacting the gender binary. There are certainly other ways to be funny in dancing; the winners from this year, for example, did an extraordinarily cheesy (but quite good) tap routine.
I want to take a quick look at some of the other male contestants who have done drag. I've covered Noel Fielding, who's more or less the odd one out here in that his female performance is meant to be "genuinely" (for lack of a better word) feminine, or perhaps it would be better to say that it's his goal to genuinely pass.
Some of the others' performances are similar to Christmas's dance. His is rather extreme, as he isn't really passing. So I have to question these...
The winner from 2009 was comedian Robert Webb, who performed in - you guessed it - a leotard. Shocker. He did Flashdance, and interestingly enough, both he and Christmas came onstage fully covered/clothed to do a dramatic strip-down, revealing said leotard.
Right, I should probably mention they all have introductions before their dances (I'm all over the place), and Webb's is him pretending to find Flashdance an incredibly sad film about a girl who is "living the dream" as a welder and then has to go to dance school. I'm not sure what to make of this; I know he's kidding, and I've never seen Flashdance, so it's hard to make too many judgement calls. I do think it's interesting that he deliberately points how the main character is "transformed" from a welder (a "man's job") to a dancer (a "woman's job").
(And then again, we have Christmas's intro where he waxes his legs... Fielding's intro is about his inability to dance and never even hints that he's going to be dressed as/performing as a girl.)
But yeah, Robert Webb. His dance starts off with him pretending to weld, and then his torch "fails" so he is forced to literally throw it aside, rip off his clothes, and dance "properly." And in fairness, the audience definitely appreciated his dancing ability - he was really good - I just don't know where to factor in shock value.
And then a year or two later, Russell Kane did "Crazy in Love" dressed as a woman. And people loved that, absolutely loved it. That was really overtly sexy, even though he wasn't wearing a leotard. Out of Christmas, Webb, and himself, Russell definitely passed the best (obviously I am not including Noel Fielding here).
I'm also not sure why Fielding passed quite as well as he did, to be honest. With Russell, he did look feminine, and he could pull off the traditionally-female "sexy" dance moves. With Noel, I think it's still fairly obvious he's a man. It's his face. He has a very square jaw and a strong jawline, and even in a wig and dress it is still possible to tell he's a man. The thing is, though, that rather than experiencing the jarring feeling of looking at someone performing as a female and being able to see it's a man, he really does seem like a "genuine" woman performing as a woman... he just happens to be biologically male.
UPDATE-ish thing: was watching Robert Webb's dance and they're complimenting not only his sexiness in the leotard but also on the complexity of the dance and dance moves (I guess pirouettes and such happened??). But they've definitely mentioning his girly legs... Maybe passing at least a little is a requirement in being taken seriously in a cross-dressing gender performance?
By the way, a little more on the girls - Katie Price cross-dressed as Freddie Mercury - wait for it - while he was cross-dressing. So she had the sexy thing going on (and I beileve an exagerated feminine figure), but also a mustache and fake underarm hair. I liked the idea, but the dance was a bit crap (and I don't even want to start analyzing particular elements of the dance, especially the girls dressed as cows thing). There were a lot of negative reactions to her performance, and I'm not sure if it was the lack of dancing or the fact that it was Katie Price (evidently she's not well-liked?), or something else entirely at work. Lulu's cross-dressing performance as Soulja Boy WAS well-received, though, and she only barely lost (to Noel Fielding, interestingly) and by a rather arbitrary judges' vote. (I say arbitrary because it was 1-1 and it took the third guy forever to finally yell out a name.)
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Butler in action! (Not my actual weekly post)
So here's something interesting.
I was getting a haircut tonight after class at Douglass J, right? (I promise this is going somewhere.) And the woman checking people in recognized Undoing Gender (or rather, recognized the author), as evidently she'd been a woman's studies minor in college. So the guy cutting my hair overheard this, and we had a really interesting conversation, the main point of which being this:
He'd recently started a relationship with a new guy, and (he actually said this in so many words) they were still in the process of figuring out who's who in the relationship, i.e. domestically. He was talking about how being in a relationship with someone different actively changed who he was within the relationship. Isn't that interesting? And then, I suppose on a more basic level, it also changed sort of his public role in the relationship from being the more masculine one in most of his old relationships to being the more feminine one. And he articulated that it was kind of weird he felt obligated to figure out the masculine/feminine thing, but that people expected it, so he just unconsciously felt obligated to figure it out.
So yeah, that's not my blog post for the week, but it was a really interesting conversation. He had some really interesting points about gender performatives and discourse on sexuality, as well. So if anyone needs a haircut soon, I have a recommendation. ;)
I was getting a haircut tonight after class at Douglass J, right? (I promise this is going somewhere.) And the woman checking people in recognized Undoing Gender (or rather, recognized the author), as evidently she'd been a woman's studies minor in college. So the guy cutting my hair overheard this, and we had a really interesting conversation, the main point of which being this:
He'd recently started a relationship with a new guy, and (he actually said this in so many words) they were still in the process of figuring out who's who in the relationship, i.e. domestically. He was talking about how being in a relationship with someone different actively changed who he was within the relationship. Isn't that interesting? And then, I suppose on a more basic level, it also changed sort of his public role in the relationship from being the more masculine one in most of his old relationships to being the more feminine one. And he articulated that it was kind of weird he felt obligated to figure out the masculine/feminine thing, but that people expected it, so he just unconsciously felt obligated to figure it out.
So yeah, that's not my blog post for the week, but it was a really interesting conversation. He had some really interesting points about gender performatives and discourse on sexuality, as well. So if anyone needs a haircut soon, I have a recommendation. ;)
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Crossdressing in the media
I was watching BBC's Let's Dance for Comic Relief, which aired fairly recently - I think the start of 2011? Notably, several of the participants elected to perform - quite literally - as the opposite gender. I do not mean performance as in drag shows, but they were dressed as the other gender, and they were obligated to dance in a manner that indicated that they were indeed that gender. So clearly, in that sense, this is an instance of gender performance.
There are, in Let's Dance, several preliminary episodes covering the initial rounds, culminating in a single episode that covers the events of the final round. In the second episode (again, this is part of the preliminary rounds of the competition), I believe there were a total of four (out of, like, eight) contestants who elected to cross-dress, two male and two female. The first woman, Lulu, performed a rap song; she is in her 50s, and overall the performances was basically considered "cute." Another woman performed as Freddie Mercury and received similar reactions. I'm wondering if that's a weird gendered thing; after all, it's more "shocking" to see a man playing a woman's role than vice versa.
So here's what interests me. In show 2, two men - Jarred Christmas and Noel Fielding - elected to cross-dress in order to dance to songs by Madonna and Kate Bush, respectively. Notably, they were dressed (accurately) as their selected singers. What I'm interested in is their motives in cross-dressing and in performing as women.
In the pre-dance interviews (if you've ever seen a competitive dancing show before, then you know how that works)/opening skits, Christmas's sketch revolved around getting his legs waxed (accompanied, of course, by all the gendered jokes that always go along with that sort of thing - namely, it's painful and guys can't handle it). He was aware that Fielding physically surpassed him in his ability to appear female, and perhaps as a result of this, Christmas's dance incorporated a fair amount of comedy. (In fairness, the man was in a hot pink leotard, blonde wig, and heels - hard not to be at least a little self-referential about that.)
By contrast, in Fielding's introductory skit (which I can confirm he wrote himself - I think the same is true of Christmas), he elected to focus not on the comedic difficulty of performing as "woman" but instead on the comedic difficulty of learning to dance. There were literally no jokes made about his outfit by Fielding himself. Interestingly, Fielding opted to modify Kate Bush's original costume from her music video by adding tights underneath the dress, thus precluding any jokes regarding waxing as a feminine beauty ritual and its strangeness when adopted by a man.
(Off topic, but still interesting to me - men who wax seem to be on shaky ground, and there are, of course, very specific areas which are "acceptable" for men to wax. The legs are not one of them; that is very specifically a female beauty ritual.)
Particularly interesting is that Fielding did indeed look like a woman (at least to some extent - he has very masculine facial features), and his dance was praised in terms of actual dancing ability rather than the fact that he did it in a dress. There was humor in Fielding's dance as well - both he and Christmas are, after all, comedians - but it was derived from the arrival and performance of backup dancers.
Also interesting is that Fielding's two backup dancers were women dressed identically to him, whereas Christmas's backup dancers were deliberately attractive men. His interactions with them were at least flirtatious, if not sexual, and this served both to create humor within the performance and to draw attention to Christmas's biological sex.
Another interesting thing: both men had sideburns. Fielding's were less noticeable; in fairness, it helped that the wig he wore was a similar color. Christmas, however, kept his prominent brunette sideburns, which were noticeable against his blonde wig. I'm wary of reading too much into this - it could very well be that the two men were simply unwilling to drastically alter their haircuts for a single performance. That said, the effect of Christmas's sideburns/wig combo was indeed somewhat funny. With Fielding, I was much more willing to ignore his sideburns entirely.
I think the crux of all this is that while Fielding was performing "woman," his performance itself (i.e. his dance) did not at all rely upon humor but instead upon technique. Christmas's dance was much more based in humor; that said, I don't want to disservice him by pointing that out, as he did perform well. I think the key difference is that Fielding's dance could genuinely be described as being beautiful; he was even likened to Kate Bush (and there's a great deal of interesting things I could be saying about her and her response to his performance, which I think I may later on).
Ultimately, Christmas did not receive enough votes from the viewers to go on to the finals, whereas Fielding continued on as a judge's choice - chosen over Lulu, the older woman who had cross-dressed as a man. But even then, I don't think that's something to read into; Fielding's dance was genuinely better, both from a technical standpoint... But again, the success of Lulu's dance hinged upon the humorous nature of an older woman dressing and performing as a young rapper.
More on this later; my brain's overflowing with ideas about this all at the moment, and I'd like to get some of it on my blog before I forget it all.
There are, in Let's Dance, several preliminary episodes covering the initial rounds, culminating in a single episode that covers the events of the final round. In the second episode (again, this is part of the preliminary rounds of the competition), I believe there were a total of four (out of, like, eight) contestants who elected to cross-dress, two male and two female. The first woman, Lulu, performed a rap song; she is in her 50s, and overall the performances was basically considered "cute." Another woman performed as Freddie Mercury and received similar reactions. I'm wondering if that's a weird gendered thing; after all, it's more "shocking" to see a man playing a woman's role than vice versa.
So here's what interests me. In show 2, two men - Jarred Christmas and Noel Fielding - elected to cross-dress in order to dance to songs by Madonna and Kate Bush, respectively. Notably, they were dressed (accurately) as their selected singers. What I'm interested in is their motives in cross-dressing and in performing as women.
In the pre-dance interviews (if you've ever seen a competitive dancing show before, then you know how that works)/opening skits, Christmas's sketch revolved around getting his legs waxed (accompanied, of course, by all the gendered jokes that always go along with that sort of thing - namely, it's painful and guys can't handle it). He was aware that Fielding physically surpassed him in his ability to appear female, and perhaps as a result of this, Christmas's dance incorporated a fair amount of comedy. (In fairness, the man was in a hot pink leotard, blonde wig, and heels - hard not to be at least a little self-referential about that.)
By contrast, in Fielding's introductory skit (which I can confirm he wrote himself - I think the same is true of Christmas), he elected to focus not on the comedic difficulty of performing as "woman" but instead on the comedic difficulty of learning to dance. There were literally no jokes made about his outfit by Fielding himself. Interestingly, Fielding opted to modify Kate Bush's original costume from her music video by adding tights underneath the dress, thus precluding any jokes regarding waxing as a feminine beauty ritual and its strangeness when adopted by a man.
(Off topic, but still interesting to me - men who wax seem to be on shaky ground, and there are, of course, very specific areas which are "acceptable" for men to wax. The legs are not one of them; that is very specifically a female beauty ritual.)
Particularly interesting is that Fielding did indeed look like a woman (at least to some extent - he has very masculine facial features), and his dance was praised in terms of actual dancing ability rather than the fact that he did it in a dress. There was humor in Fielding's dance as well - both he and Christmas are, after all, comedians - but it was derived from the arrival and performance of backup dancers.
Also interesting is that Fielding's two backup dancers were women dressed identically to him, whereas Christmas's backup dancers were deliberately attractive men. His interactions with them were at least flirtatious, if not sexual, and this served both to create humor within the performance and to draw attention to Christmas's biological sex.
Another interesting thing: both men had sideburns. Fielding's were less noticeable; in fairness, it helped that the wig he wore was a similar color. Christmas, however, kept his prominent brunette sideburns, which were noticeable against his blonde wig. I'm wary of reading too much into this - it could very well be that the two men were simply unwilling to drastically alter their haircuts for a single performance. That said, the effect of Christmas's sideburns/wig combo was indeed somewhat funny. With Fielding, I was much more willing to ignore his sideburns entirely.
I think the crux of all this is that while Fielding was performing "woman," his performance itself (i.e. his dance) did not at all rely upon humor but instead upon technique. Christmas's dance was much more based in humor; that said, I don't want to disservice him by pointing that out, as he did perform well. I think the key difference is that Fielding's dance could genuinely be described as being beautiful; he was even likened to Kate Bush (and there's a great deal of interesting things I could be saying about her and her response to his performance, which I think I may later on).
Ultimately, Christmas did not receive enough votes from the viewers to go on to the finals, whereas Fielding continued on as a judge's choice - chosen over Lulu, the older woman who had cross-dressed as a man. But even then, I don't think that's something to read into; Fielding's dance was genuinely better, both from a technical standpoint... But again, the success of Lulu's dance hinged upon the humorous nature of an older woman dressing and performing as a young rapper.
More on this later; my brain's overflowing with ideas about this all at the moment, and I'd like to get some of it on my blog before I forget it all.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Queering up some children's books
I had fun queering Kitty's New Doll, but initially I got a bit stuck because there's a lot you can do with it. My original thought was to put Kitty in pants, but the tutu made it a bit difficult, so I settled for changing all of Kitty's pronouns from female to male. This puts Kitty firmly in the realm of that special "boys playing with dolls" pseudo-queerness that isn't as abnormal as we make it out to be yet seems to set off major alarm bells for parents everywhere. What I liked about the pronoun switch was that it felt weird reading the ending, where Kitty's mother explained to Kitty that he was the doll's father. It seems normal for a little girl to hold that view, but for little boys, it's even more queer than simply playing with dolls would be. It's interesting to me that we encourage that "maternal instinct" or role in girls but don't encourage a parallel paternal role in boys.
One thing that struck me from the pronoun story with Corduroy is that there is a definite rhetoric to children's stories that children pick up on pretty quickly (if the author's daughter is any indication). Glasses are for male characters for the most part, and, if they are on younger characters, glasses denote intelligence or even nerdiness (here I am thinking of the Berenstein Bears in particular). Pants are "for boys" because that's a way of signifying gender when the characters are animals who don't have other obvious gender indentifiers, such as long hair.
But just because that rhetoric exists doesn't mean that its existence is justified. What purpose is there in overtly characterizing protagonists as male or female? Wouldn't the child find out within the story whether the character was male or female? What would happen if we were to remove these visual cues?
I like the idea of queering children's books because at first glance, their gender stereotyping is not subtle so much as harmless in appearance, and so we let it go. What saddens me is that, back in 1968 or so when Corduroy was published, the author states there were few female protagonists; yet now, when we allegedly live in a society that pays attention to feminist goals and gender equality, we're providing girls with such thrilling literature as "Makeover Madness."
I didn't mention this in class, but that trend disturbs the hell out of me. Why are we convincing little girls that makeovers are a good idea? We've started seeing the trend of children dressing up in play clothes mutating into something more sinister: children dressing up in a more "serious" and less "play" fashion, with makeup and "adult" clothes. This frightens me, primarily the makeover aspect of it.
I don't have an easy answer for how to queer children's books while still rendering them enjoyable to children, but I really would like to take a stab at making one, if only just for fun. Maybe I'll put it online if I do.
One thing that struck me from the pronoun story with Corduroy is that there is a definite rhetoric to children's stories that children pick up on pretty quickly (if the author's daughter is any indication). Glasses are for male characters for the most part, and, if they are on younger characters, glasses denote intelligence or even nerdiness (here I am thinking of the Berenstein Bears in particular). Pants are "for boys" because that's a way of signifying gender when the characters are animals who don't have other obvious gender indentifiers, such as long hair.
But just because that rhetoric exists doesn't mean that its existence is justified. What purpose is there in overtly characterizing protagonists as male or female? Wouldn't the child find out within the story whether the character was male or female? What would happen if we were to remove these visual cues?
I like the idea of queering children's books because at first glance, their gender stereotyping is not subtle so much as harmless in appearance, and so we let it go. What saddens me is that, back in 1968 or so when Corduroy was published, the author states there were few female protagonists; yet now, when we allegedly live in a society that pays attention to feminist goals and gender equality, we're providing girls with such thrilling literature as "Makeover Madness."
I didn't mention this in class, but that trend disturbs the hell out of me. Why are we convincing little girls that makeovers are a good idea? We've started seeing the trend of children dressing up in play clothes mutating into something more sinister: children dressing up in a more "serious" and less "play" fashion, with makeup and "adult" clothes. This frightens me, primarily the makeover aspect of it.
I don't have an easy answer for how to queer children's books while still rendering them enjoyable to children, but I really would like to take a stab at making one, if only just for fun. Maybe I'll put it online if I do.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Queer spaces
I found something really weird last night on Burcham Road. You know those little figures they paint on bike lanes to indicate that you're supposed to be riding a bike there? I found a headless one. The rest of it looked like it had been recently painted, too; it was just missing a head.
I'm not sure if that counts as a queer space, exactly, but it's really unsettling. Maybe that's more a comment on bodies than anything else.
One queer space? The botanical gardens over by (I think) the chem buildings. The garden is this really pretty space sandwiched by industrial buildings and bordered by sidewalks. The garden itself is queer too, though, because it's a metal and wood construct but covered by plant life. The metal, in particular, is an interesting juxtaposition, because it's not something I associate with gardens at all. It blends together well, though; I mean, I'd definitely give it points for being aesthetically pleasing.
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Back-posting because my interwebs apparently wouldn't let me post this one (thought it went through, but I guess not). More importantly, an update!
I'm starting to think what's really queer about queer spaces is that, in being queer, they're creating an idea of "normalcy" to which they are not complying. But when you think about it, there really is no "normal" space, is there? There's always something "different."
Take roads, for example. What's a "normal" road? Is it the kind of road we see most often - two-lane, dotted line down the center? Are areas where we aren't allowed to pass from one direction or another queer because the line is solid and the rules are different? Is the highway queer for having different speed limits and rules? Are intersections queer because they force us to negotiate the meetings of more than one road? An intersection abruptly forces a renegotiation of what we know; we learn how roads work early on in our lives (look both ways and all that), and then later we have to learn how cars are intended to behave at intersections.
And even those "normal" roads would necessarily be queer in their varying constructions - different levels of elevations, for example, or different curves in the road, or the paint could be faded. Or (like many roads in southern Michigan), they could be layers of old roads paved over in an attempt to smooth them out, which is queer because that's not really an effective way to fix a road and yet we accept that as normal here. Are all roads queer in comparison to a perceived "norm"? Is queerness really what's normal rather than normality itself?
Is this taking the idea too far? Probably. I don't know. I'm suspicious of the idea of something being "normal," but I'd buy "average," I guess. Maybe typical. Queerness is all based on learned behavior anyway, and it'd be stupid and pointless to disregard that we do have an idea of what is normal.
I'm going to stop because I'm not entirely convinced I'm making sense anymore.
I'm not sure if that counts as a queer space, exactly, but it's really unsettling. Maybe that's more a comment on bodies than anything else.
One queer space? The botanical gardens over by (I think) the chem buildings. The garden is this really pretty space sandwiched by industrial buildings and bordered by sidewalks. The garden itself is queer too, though, because it's a metal and wood construct but covered by plant life. The metal, in particular, is an interesting juxtaposition, because it's not something I associate with gardens at all. It blends together well, though; I mean, I'd definitely give it points for being aesthetically pleasing.
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Back-posting because my interwebs apparently wouldn't let me post this one (thought it went through, but I guess not). More importantly, an update!
I'm starting to think what's really queer about queer spaces is that, in being queer, they're creating an idea of "normalcy" to which they are not complying. But when you think about it, there really is no "normal" space, is there? There's always something "different."
Take roads, for example. What's a "normal" road? Is it the kind of road we see most often - two-lane, dotted line down the center? Are areas where we aren't allowed to pass from one direction or another queer because the line is solid and the rules are different? Is the highway queer for having different speed limits and rules? Are intersections queer because they force us to negotiate the meetings of more than one road? An intersection abruptly forces a renegotiation of what we know; we learn how roads work early on in our lives (look both ways and all that), and then later we have to learn how cars are intended to behave at intersections.
And even those "normal" roads would necessarily be queer in their varying constructions - different levels of elevations, for example, or different curves in the road, or the paint could be faded. Or (like many roads in southern Michigan), they could be layers of old roads paved over in an attempt to smooth them out, which is queer because that's not really an effective way to fix a road and yet we accept that as normal here. Are all roads queer in comparison to a perceived "norm"? Is queerness really what's normal rather than normality itself?
Is this taking the idea too far? Probably. I don't know. I'm suspicious of the idea of something being "normal," but I'd buy "average," I guess. Maybe typical. Queerness is all based on learned behavior anyway, and it'd be stupid and pointless to disregard that we do have an idea of what is normal.
I'm going to stop because I'm not entirely convinced I'm making sense anymore.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Stolen Bodies, Reclaimed Bodies
I almost forgot to blog about this, but Stolen Bodies, Reclaimed Bodies got me thinking about what's "normal" in terms of bodies. The idea of a "normal" body has bothered me for ages, because everybody's more or less got something "wrong" with them, be it cerebral palsy or a latex allergy or even just asthma. I can't imagine there's anyone out there in the world with an absolutely "normal" body; that body seems to be created simply through defining other bodies as "wrong" or incomplete.
So why make this distinction in the first place? Of the four approaches to disability Eli Clare outlines in the essay, I think medical is probably the most difficult to negotiate. With charity, we can recognize the problematic pity and its negative effects; morality is obviously problematic but perhaps in general fairly recognizable/avoidable. But from a medical perspective, if a problem CAN be "fixed," then shouldn't we fix it?
And even if, in the case of diseases like CP, medication can potentially make someone's life better - improve their quality of life, lifespan, etc. - it is then increasingly difficult to make peace with one's own body, because taking medication in some respects does seem to be "admitting," in a way, that there is indeed something wrong with it. Diseases and disabilities that can be treated or medicated or simply regulated in general make it difficult for people to accept their bodies as "good" or positive; instead, it is the negative aspects, what people can't do, that are focused on.
I am not saying we shouldn't treat what we can or that disability is a positive thing. But saying there are ways to make a condition more manageable and saying that there is something wrong or bad about their bodies is, I think, a different thing. Clare accepts that his or her (I am unsure of the author's gender) body is "irrevocably different," and it is - most people don't have CP. And CP is a difficult thing to live with; it would be even if we were to only view it in terms of its tendency to separate those who have it from those who don't. But that a lover is able to say to Clare, "I love your CP" is a very powerful thing. It becomes, then, not a matter of simply living with it or coping with it. I don't know if it's a matter of acceptance, exactly, but I thought that bedroom scene was a very powerful moment within the essay. Thoughts, anyone?
So why make this distinction in the first place? Of the four approaches to disability Eli Clare outlines in the essay, I think medical is probably the most difficult to negotiate. With charity, we can recognize the problematic pity and its negative effects; morality is obviously problematic but perhaps in general fairly recognizable/avoidable. But from a medical perspective, if a problem CAN be "fixed," then shouldn't we fix it?
And even if, in the case of diseases like CP, medication can potentially make someone's life better - improve their quality of life, lifespan, etc. - it is then increasingly difficult to make peace with one's own body, because taking medication in some respects does seem to be "admitting," in a way, that there is indeed something wrong with it. Diseases and disabilities that can be treated or medicated or simply regulated in general make it difficult for people to accept their bodies as "good" or positive; instead, it is the negative aspects, what people can't do, that are focused on.
I am not saying we shouldn't treat what we can or that disability is a positive thing. But saying there are ways to make a condition more manageable and saying that there is something wrong or bad about their bodies is, I think, a different thing. Clare accepts that his or her (I am unsure of the author's gender) body is "irrevocably different," and it is - most people don't have CP. And CP is a difficult thing to live with; it would be even if we were to only view it in terms of its tendency to separate those who have it from those who don't. But that a lover is able to say to Clare, "I love your CP" is a very powerful thing. It becomes, then, not a matter of simply living with it or coping with it. I don't know if it's a matter of acceptance, exactly, but I thought that bedroom scene was a very powerful moment within the essay. Thoughts, anyone?
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Freud! (pre-blog ramblings)
I almost forgot to blog this week, and I've had this post saved up since last Sunday. I thought I'd post it anyway and come back to it later, just so I've got something up.
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I wanted to ramble a bit just to get a feel for some of these readings.
So Freud! Hey! Freud. And I quote: "...we only wonder why a man has to be ill before he can be accessible to a truth of this kind" (246). This is about melancholy, mind. But isn't that interesting? Dwelling on our (perceived) inadequacies is 1) a symptom (condition? state of mind?) of melancholy, and 2) it's this system of thought that enables us to be accessible to said truth.
And accessible! As in, we're open to the truth; we're able to perceive or accept the truth. That's interesting language on Freud's part.
---
Right, so this finally makes some semblance of sense to me, and I'd like to jot that down before I forget it or get confused.
Mourning is healthy. Melancholy is not.
The thing is, I don't know how much of Freud I'm meant to take "seriously." Does that make sense? I mostly mean that much of what he says is very weird to me (in fairness, I am not a philosophy major, and I know surprisingly little about Freud). I understand that the point of mourning is to accept the loss of the opposite-gendered parent as the object of desire, but why are they the object of desire at all? I have a hard time accepting that, I guess.
ALSO. I realize there isn't a working Freudian model for homosexuality, but I have a lot of questions about that in the first place. Why couldn't a homosexual also experience mourning for the loss of the object of desire (assuming he is male, the father)? Would that mean he would identify with the opposite sex rather than his own? That almost forces a sort of feminine characterization on the subject, which is obviously problematic.
I've also finally wrapped my brain about the relation between incest and homosexuality, which is basically as simple as that they're taboos/failings of the system. That's really the two main groups you aren't meant to desire, isn't it? Incest in any form, because it means you've failed to redirect your desire to someone LIKE a family member who isn't one, and homosexuality because there isn't even a model for that. It's easy to try to explain it as simply being attracted to the same-sex parent, but that ultimately throws your relation with the other parent into chaos. And there's no clear answer to which parent the homosexual identifies with.
---
I wanted to ramble a bit just to get a feel for some of these readings.
So Freud! Hey! Freud. And I quote: "...we only wonder why a man has to be ill before he can be accessible to a truth of this kind" (246). This is about melancholy, mind. But isn't that interesting? Dwelling on our (perceived) inadequacies is 1) a symptom (condition? state of mind?) of melancholy, and 2) it's this system of thought that enables us to be accessible to said truth.
And accessible! As in, we're open to the truth; we're able to perceive or accept the truth. That's interesting language on Freud's part.
---
Right, so this finally makes some semblance of sense to me, and I'd like to jot that down before I forget it or get confused.
Mourning is healthy. Melancholy is not.
The thing is, I don't know how much of Freud I'm meant to take "seriously." Does that make sense? I mostly mean that much of what he says is very weird to me (in fairness, I am not a philosophy major, and I know surprisingly little about Freud). I understand that the point of mourning is to accept the loss of the opposite-gendered parent as the object of desire, but why are they the object of desire at all? I have a hard time accepting that, I guess.
ALSO. I realize there isn't a working Freudian model for homosexuality, but I have a lot of questions about that in the first place. Why couldn't a homosexual also experience mourning for the loss of the object of desire (assuming he is male, the father)? Would that mean he would identify with the opposite sex rather than his own? That almost forces a sort of feminine characterization on the subject, which is obviously problematic.
I've also finally wrapped my brain about the relation between incest and homosexuality, which is basically as simple as that they're taboos/failings of the system. That's really the two main groups you aren't meant to desire, isn't it? Incest in any form, because it means you've failed to redirect your desire to someone LIKE a family member who isn't one, and homosexuality because there isn't even a model for that. It's easy to try to explain it as simply being attracted to the same-sex parent, but that ultimately throws your relation with the other parent into chaos. And there's no clear answer to which parent the homosexual identifies with.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Just for fun
This is mostly just for fun, but here are some things I found on the internet that might be interesting. At the very least, I get a kick out of them.
A Softer World
Feminist Ryan Gosling (scroll down 'til you find Judith Butler)
I could probably say something about culture or social media at this point, but I'm thinking this is pretty self-explanatory.
A Softer World
Feminist Ryan Gosling (scroll down 'til you find Judith Butler)
I could probably say something about culture or social media at this point, but I'm thinking this is pretty self-explanatory.
Butler, Misery, and failure within "the system"
I promised an exciting blog post last Monday, so I suppose I'd better actually write one.
I enjoyed the ending of Misfortune - despite it being entirely predictable - because all of the codes and hieroglyphics come to mean something. Using a code to obscure something and then making that something apparent again through said code got me thinking about Butler's concept of agency derived from The System (sorry, couldn't resist).
That is, Rose is coded by society's binary concept of man/woman, but ultimately comes to "uncode" his/her identity through that particular dialectic. This is in part an example of a failure in the binary system (which Butler says is inevitable and through which the system is demonstrated to be problematic and/or inadequate). It doesn't really need to be argued that Rose is an example of the failure of the system, but let's do this anyway, just for fun: (s)he doesn't identify exclusively with one gender or the other, his/her appearance is a mixture of the feminine and the masculine... and actually, the latter is notable because it isn't a matter of a man feeling feminine or identifying as a woman, because Rose isn't physically male and dressing exclusively female (that is, that's not the extent of the division, as though Rose were male but choosing deliberately to identify as or perform "female"), but rather has feminine and masculine physical qualities (male anatomy, feminine gestures, etc.) and also feminine and masculine qualities in her aesthetic appearance (i.e. what she has control over): (s)he wears a dress but has deliberate facial hair.
What's particularly interesting here is that Rose's use of this agency isn't passive; rather, she derives significant power from his/her gender identity (or, perhaps to some extent, her lack thereof). We saw this early on when (s)he was able to exert power over Edmond, and soon after her inability to exert this power over Prudence when she was dressed, and was performing, as a man.
Another notable encounter, though perhaps less direct, is Rose's inability to be comfortable with sexuality during her encounter with Franny until (s)he puts on the dress. It's particularly interesting because this can almost be viewed as a form of impotence, yet it is the addition of the dress into the equation that renders Rose able to act again. Clearly there is a power (s)he is able to exert over others, a power that is drawn, at least in part, from this dual gender identity.
As a closing note, I should also mention the final confrontation with the Osberns and Rakeleighs at Love Hall, where Rose is able to command a striking amount of a attention and influence over her adversaries simply through her dual-gendered appearance/performance; the curtsey (s)he issues (without making it a deliberate action, no less) is a great example of this. (And of course, this can be contrasted with her previous encounter with the extended family at Love Hall, in which (s)he was obligated to perform as a male and was effectively impotent - indeed, there is direct reference to Rose having been "pruned by Prudence." There's a lot of imagery, phallic and otherwise, to wrestle with there.)
I enjoyed the ending of Misfortune - despite it being entirely predictable - because all of the codes and hieroglyphics come to mean something. Using a code to obscure something and then making that something apparent again through said code got me thinking about Butler's concept of agency derived from The System (sorry, couldn't resist).
That is, Rose is coded by society's binary concept of man/woman, but ultimately comes to "uncode" his/her identity through that particular dialectic. This is in part an example of a failure in the binary system (which Butler says is inevitable and through which the system is demonstrated to be problematic and/or inadequate). It doesn't really need to be argued that Rose is an example of the failure of the system, but let's do this anyway, just for fun: (s)he doesn't identify exclusively with one gender or the other, his/her appearance is a mixture of the feminine and the masculine... and actually, the latter is notable because it isn't a matter of a man feeling feminine or identifying as a woman, because Rose isn't physically male and dressing exclusively female (that is, that's not the extent of the division, as though Rose were male but choosing deliberately to identify as or perform "female"), but rather has feminine and masculine physical qualities (male anatomy, feminine gestures, etc.) and also feminine and masculine qualities in her aesthetic appearance (i.e. what she has control over): (s)he wears a dress but has deliberate facial hair.
What's particularly interesting here is that Rose's use of this agency isn't passive; rather, she derives significant power from his/her gender identity (or, perhaps to some extent, her lack thereof). We saw this early on when (s)he was able to exert power over Edmond, and soon after her inability to exert this power over Prudence when she was dressed, and was performing, as a man.
Another notable encounter, though perhaps less direct, is Rose's inability to be comfortable with sexuality during her encounter with Franny until (s)he puts on the dress. It's particularly interesting because this can almost be viewed as a form of impotence, yet it is the addition of the dress into the equation that renders Rose able to act again. Clearly there is a power (s)he is able to exert over others, a power that is drawn, at least in part, from this dual gender identity.
As a closing note, I should also mention the final confrontation with the Osberns and Rakeleighs at Love Hall, where Rose is able to command a striking amount of a attention and influence over her adversaries simply through her dual-gendered appearance/performance; the curtsey (s)he issues (without making it a deliberate action, no less) is a great example of this. (And of course, this can be contrasted with her previous encounter with the extended family at Love Hall, in which (s)he was obligated to perform as a male and was effectively impotent - indeed, there is direct reference to Rose having been "pruned by Prudence." There's a lot of imagery, phallic and otherwise, to wrestle with there.)
Monday, October 10, 2011
Tattooing and Revolting Bodies
Right, so I've gotten a bit behind on blogging, but I'd like to address some of what I've missed. So from Braunberger's "Revolting Bodies":
Tattoos. Bam. Right there. Because here's what's fascinating about them to me: the essay talks about cultural inscriptions and rewriting and meaning of tattoos. And it talks about men's tattoos carrying connotations with bravery and the like, while women's carry different connotations entirely.
(Mind you, I think it's a little unfair of Braunberger to assume that men's tattoos carry connotations of bravery and so many other positive things because they also have negative connotations (obviously). I feel like phrasing her argument like that means she is almost ignoring a lot of the problems surrounding tattoos as a whole, but in fairness, her argument is about women, so here's my big question:)
Why are men's tattoos affected by society/culture but not rewritten, whereas Braunberger claims women's tattoos are rewritten/reinscripted entirely?
I agree with many of the points she's making, and of course from a
On an entirely different note: consent. The sexual connotations surrounding tattooing are fascinating - the whole pain/pleasure concept, in particular, because while it's "natural" for men to tattoo women, it's somehow "perverse" for other permutations (father tattooing daughter, or more to the point, man tattooing man) to exist. So why is there so much controversy surrounding something that is, on some level, presented as a heterosexual act?
And then we get into something disturbing with consent. Because apparently it's not okay for a woman to have tattoos on purpose - like Braunberger says, women in side shows were rendered at least somewhat more acceptable by their narratives (their unwillingness to get the tattoos, having no say in the matter, etc.). Even when the tattoos are cosmetic ("permanent makeup"), women are not actually told (in the instances presented) that they are being tattooed, and this somehow makes it more acceptable to undergo this procedure. There is the notion that this procedure would have been unacceptable had women realized the process involved tattooing and accepted it readily.
So what are we supposed to take from this? I'm not sure. Braunberger sets it up a bit like tattoo-rape, and what's terrifying is that it then means these acts of tattooing are only acceptable if the women DOESN'T give her consent (even if this is only true in narrative alone). What's more, we're told about the decline of these side show narratives after the advent of electric tattooing, taking the more physical (and presumably more painful) act and taming it in a way that results in said decline. What's being said here? Does tattooing have to be painful and non-consensual for women in order for it to be socially acceptable?
Tattoos. Bam. Right there. Because here's what's fascinating about them to me: the essay talks about cultural inscriptions and rewriting and meaning of tattoos. And it talks about men's tattoos carrying connotations with bravery and the like, while women's carry different connotations entirely.
(Mind you, I think it's a little unfair of Braunberger to assume that men's tattoos carry connotations of bravery and so many other positive things because they also have negative connotations (obviously). I feel like phrasing her argument like that means she is almost ignoring a lot of the problems surrounding tattoos as a whole, but in fairness, her argument is about women, so here's my big question:)
Why are men's tattoos affected by society/culture but not rewritten, whereas Braunberger claims women's tattoos are rewritten/reinscripted entirely?
I agree with many of the points she's making, and of course from a
On an entirely different note: consent. The sexual connotations surrounding tattooing are fascinating - the whole pain/pleasure concept, in particular, because while it's "natural" for men to tattoo women, it's somehow "perverse" for other permutations (father tattooing daughter, or more to the point, man tattooing man) to exist. So why is there so much controversy surrounding something that is, on some level, presented as a heterosexual act?
And then we get into something disturbing with consent. Because apparently it's not okay for a woman to have tattoos on purpose - like Braunberger says, women in side shows were rendered at least somewhat more acceptable by their narratives (their unwillingness to get the tattoos, having no say in the matter, etc.). Even when the tattoos are cosmetic ("permanent makeup"), women are not actually told (in the instances presented) that they are being tattooed, and this somehow makes it more acceptable to undergo this procedure. There is the notion that this procedure would have been unacceptable had women realized the process involved tattooing and accepted it readily.
So what are we supposed to take from this? I'm not sure. Braunberger sets it up a bit like tattoo-rape, and what's terrifying is that it then means these acts of tattooing are only acceptable if the women DOESN'T give her consent (even if this is only true in narrative alone). What's more, we're told about the decline of these side show narratives after the advent of electric tattooing, taking the more physical (and presumably more painful) act and taming it in a way that results in said decline. What's being said here? Does tattooing have to be painful and non-consensual for women in order for it to be socially acceptable?
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
"King's Crossing" - Elliott Smith and bio-power
Thought I'd go ahead and post some thoughts here before finalizing my piece. (And here's me hoping it's an appropriate choice for a text.)
The lyrics to this song have been traditionally taken, especially at surface value, to refer to Elliott Smith's eventual suicide ("give me one good reason not to do it"); it's been contested that the lyrics instead refer to Smith's drug addiction, as evidenced by other lyrics. What's interesting is that often, especially on the internet (where users are uninhibited by identity), people become upset when it's suggested that the song really is about his drug addiction. What this seems to indicate is that, on some level, Smith's suicide is more socially "acceptable" than his drug addiction, because it does less to directly subvert the authority and control bio-power had over his life.
Bio-power's shift away from control through death, which, according to Foucault, has become power's limit (138), may help explain why such strong feelings surround these two interpretations of the text. Suicide, which was once a crime in that is was a way to usurp the power of death, the sovereign's "right to kill," is now considered to be closer to a "right" than a crime: "the individual and private right to die, at the borders... of power that was exercised over life" (139). Though tragic, Smith's decision to take his own life was exactly that: his decision. Under the system of bio-power, this is much less of a direct subversion of power, which may explain to some extent why the song's audience is tentatively accepting of this interpretation of the lyrics.
However, in both discussions I have had personally regarding "King's Crossing" as well as discourse I have observed online, tension arises when this interpretation is contested with the alternative interpretation that the song is actually about Smith's drug addiction. Indeed, some phrases in the song - for example, "all I want to do is inject my ex-wife," with "ex-wife" being slang for a past heroine addiction - are explicit drug references. Thus the line "Give me one good reason not to do it" changes meaning from the decision to exercise a personal and individual right to death to an outright declaration that Smith wishes to return to drug use. This, again, is a personal choice, but it does more, perhaps, to usurp power than does suicide. Under the relatively new construct of bio-power, Smith is directly subverting both of the two poles. First, he subverts the disciplines by personally altering his body as a machine - adversely affecting and ultimately preventing the optimization of his body's capabilities, thwarting the extortion of its forces and usefulness and diminishing its overall docility in relation to society as a whole. Second, he subverts the regulatory controls inherent to bio-power by personally altering his level of health, life expectancy and longevity, and particularly a condition (drug usage) which causes these biological processes to vary. Because bio-power seeks the calculated management of life, ...It is possible that it is this direct subversion and usurping of power over and throughout life that makes Smith's audience uncomfortable with the reading of the lyrics as they pertain to drug usage (rather than suicide).
Alternately, this could also be read as an effect of bio-power in that Smith's life is being disallowed by society until the point of death. If his depression and drug addiction are viewed as biological processes, then they do indeed fall under the second pole of bio-power; that is, the regulatory controls, which supervise the level of health, life expectancy and longevity (to name a few) of the human body. While Smith's drug usage
This reading can be supported directly by the text. "All I want to do is inject my ex-wife" and "I'm going on a date with a rich white lady" are both references to hard drugs (presumably heroine and cocaine, respectively) that, significantly, are characterized by the opposite gender, imbuing drugs with a kind of sexual significance that lies at the axes of the two poles of bio-power. The seductive quality of drugs robs Smith of his personal power to resist or avoid them, influencing his decisions heavily. In a sense, as sex is such an intrinsic part of bio-power, it is bio-power that is exerting its authority over his life and not Smith making a personal decision to use or not use drugs.
This is not the only sexual imagery present in the piece, however. "Because I took my own insides out/It don't matter 'cause I have no sex life" is more challenging to understand. The first line seems to indicate a deliberate act - "I took," reminiscent of the pre-bio-power "take/let" power construct - but this emptiness is brushed aside because it doesn't matter, as the singer "has no sex life." Looking at this lament through the lens of bio-power, and particularly the axes of regulatory controls, the act of taking is rendered unimportant or meaningless by the body's inability to propagate and the lack of sex inherent to the act of taking. Literally, the act of removing one's own insides renders the body incapable of procreation, one of its main functions and the biological end to sex and continuation of a bloodline.
Thus the song is a conflicting mix of attempts to subvert the bio-power construct and said construct's inherent control over the singer's life and actions.
The song can be read as a whole, then, as Smith's frustration with his inability to subvert the outside power (bio-power) controlling his life. Looking outside the text and with a purely speculative eye, this may explain to some extent why Smith took his own life - again, with the advent of bio-power, death, being power's limit, became an individual and personal right: the right to die. If, as the lyrics state, Smith had limited or damaged personal authority over his body - not only in terms of drugs and biological processes, but also in relation to his body as a machine (and here I'm referring to the lyrics which directly reference capitalism) - then perhaps the only way he was able to subvert the two axes that comprise bio-power was to exercise this private right, thus ensuring bio-power's authority over and throughout his life ended.
The lyrics to this song have been traditionally taken, especially at surface value, to refer to Elliott Smith's eventual suicide ("give me one good reason not to do it"); it's been contested that the lyrics instead refer to Smith's drug addiction, as evidenced by other lyrics. What's interesting is that often, especially on the internet (where users are uninhibited by identity), people become upset when it's suggested that the song really is about his drug addiction. What this seems to indicate is that, on some level, Smith's suicide is more socially "acceptable" than his drug addiction, because it does less to directly subvert the authority and control bio-power had over his life.
Bio-power's shift away from control through death, which, according to Foucault, has become power's limit (138), may help explain why such strong feelings surround these two interpretations of the text. Suicide, which was once a crime in that is was a way to usurp the power of death, the sovereign's "right to kill," is now considered to be closer to a "right" than a crime: "the individual and private right to die, at the borders... of power that was exercised over life" (139). Though tragic, Smith's decision to take his own life was exactly that: his decision. Under the system of bio-power, this is much less of a direct subversion of power, which may explain to some extent why the song's audience is tentatively accepting of this interpretation of the lyrics.
However, in both discussions I have had personally regarding "King's Crossing" as well as discourse I have observed online, tension arises when this interpretation is contested with the alternative interpretation that the song is actually about Smith's drug addiction. Indeed, some phrases in the song - for example, "all I want to do is inject my ex-wife," with "ex-wife" being slang for a past heroine addiction - are explicit drug references. Thus the line "Give me one good reason not to do it" changes meaning from the decision to exercise a personal and individual right to death to an outright declaration that Smith wishes to return to drug use. This, again, is a personal choice, but it does more, perhaps, to usurp power than does suicide. Under the relatively new construct of bio-power, Smith is directly subverting both of the two poles. First, he subverts the disciplines by personally altering his body as a machine - adversely affecting and ultimately preventing the optimization of his body's capabilities, thwarting the extortion of its forces and usefulness and diminishing its overall docility in relation to society as a whole. Second, he subverts the regulatory controls inherent to bio-power by personally altering his level of health, life expectancy and longevity, and particularly a condition (drug usage) which causes these biological processes to vary. Because bio-power seeks the calculated management of life, ...It is possible that it is this direct subversion and usurping of power over and throughout life that makes Smith's audience uncomfortable with the reading of the lyrics as they pertain to drug usage (rather than suicide).
Alternately, this could also be read as an effect of bio-power in that Smith's life is being disallowed by society until the point of death. If his depression and drug addiction are viewed as biological processes, then they do indeed fall under the second pole of bio-power; that is, the regulatory controls, which supervise the level of health, life expectancy and longevity (to name a few) of the human body. While Smith's drug usage
This reading can be supported directly by the text. "All I want to do is inject my ex-wife" and "I'm going on a date with a rich white lady" are both references to hard drugs (presumably heroine and cocaine, respectively) that, significantly, are characterized by the opposite gender, imbuing drugs with a kind of sexual significance that lies at the axes of the two poles of bio-power. The seductive quality of drugs robs Smith of his personal power to resist or avoid them, influencing his decisions heavily. In a sense, as sex is such an intrinsic part of bio-power, it is bio-power that is exerting its authority over his life and not Smith making a personal decision to use or not use drugs.
This is not the only sexual imagery present in the piece, however. "Because I took my own insides out/It don't matter 'cause I have no sex life" is more challenging to understand. The first line seems to indicate a deliberate act - "I took," reminiscent of the pre-bio-power "take/let" power construct - but this emptiness is brushed aside because it doesn't matter, as the singer "has no sex life." Looking at this lament through the lens of bio-power, and particularly the axes of regulatory controls, the act of taking is rendered unimportant or meaningless by the body's inability to propagate and the lack of sex inherent to the act of taking. Literally, the act of removing one's own insides renders the body incapable of procreation, one of its main functions and the biological end to sex and continuation of a bloodline.
Thus the song is a conflicting mix of attempts to subvert the bio-power construct and said construct's inherent control over the singer's life and actions.
The song can be read as a whole, then, as Smith's frustration with his inability to subvert the outside power (bio-power) controlling his life. Looking outside the text and with a purely speculative eye, this may explain to some extent why Smith took his own life - again, with the advent of bio-power, death, being power's limit, became an individual and personal right: the right to die. If, as the lyrics state, Smith had limited or damaged personal authority over his body - not only in terms of drugs and biological processes, but also in relation to his body as a machine (and here I'm referring to the lyrics which directly reference capitalism) - then perhaps the only way he was able to subvert the two axes that comprise bio-power was to exercise this private right, thus ensuring bio-power's authority over and throughout his life ended.
Bio-power, part 2
Bio-power:
- was a critical component in the development of capitalism. This is because capitalism required 1) "the controlled insertion of bodies into the machinery of production" (141), and 2) the adjustment of the phenomena of population to economic processes. Bio-power was also necessary to regulate/encourage the growth of both of these factors, "and life in general without at the same time making them more difficult to govern" (141), which goes back to the idea of the body as a machine (the first pole of bio-power): the parallel increase of the body's usefulness as well as its docility. Procedures of power characterized by this first pole, or "the disciplines" (139), regulated this area and enabled the body (entirety of the population) to be inserted into and regulated within the capitalist system.
- has many forms and modes of application. "The investment of the body, its valorization, and the distributive management of its forces were at the time indispensable" (141), probably because they were needed to the rapid growth and expansion of modern (capitalist) society.
- can be defined in its simplest form, perhaps, as the power that regulates and controls various aspects of the human body and human species, yet is simultaneously derived from that which it controls. And what it controls relies on the power that controls it for the same reason; as Foucault says, "against this power that was still new in the nineteenth century, the forces that resisted relied for support on the very thing it invested, that is, on life and man as a living being" (144). What served as the controlling power also established itself as a new belief system: people did not aspire towards such antiquated goals as the coming of the emperor of the poor, etc., as "what was demanded and what served as an objective was life, understood as the basic needs, man's concrete essence, the realization of his potential, a plenitude of the possible" (145).
- at the turn of the eighteenth century dictated that "Power would no longer be dealing simply with legal subjects over whom the ultimate dominion was death, but with living beings, and the mastery it would be able to exercise over them would have to be applied at the level of life itself; it was the taking charge of life, more than the threat of death, that gave power its access even to the body" (142-143).
- brought life and its mechanisms (e.g. the body) into the realm of explicit calculations and made knowledge-power an agent of transformation in human life. That is, bio-power played a huge role in redistributing the order of the classical episteme and went on to regulate
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Bio-power
Starting in the 17th century, there was a major shift in the structure of power from the "right to kill" (take life/let live) to the "control over life" (foster life/disallow to the point of death).
"As soon as power gave itself the function of administering life" (138) writes Foucault, "its reason for being... made it more and more difficult to apply the death penalty." That is, once power's function became the administration of life, it became pointless, or at least extreme, to administer death, given that once a life has been taken, there can be no further power exerted over said life.
So now that it is throughout life, rather than through the threat of death, that power exercises control; death is no longer a viable basis for power because, quite simply, "death is power's limit" (138). Death is the very moment in which a life may escape power, because it is, as Foucault says, a private moment.
Why is it no longer possible to control a population through power derived from the right to kill? Well, remember that the sovereign "exercised his right of life only by exercising his right to kill, or by refraining from killing" (136), which is more or less how power functioned in earlier societies. What happens in the 17th century to provoke a (gradual) change? Most likely this is primarily related to the advancement of civilization, etc. etc. In the face of a changing, growing, unpredictable population, a new power had to take the place of the old one, and it had to be capable of controlling more complex factors than before. This isn't simply ordering subjects about under the threat of death should they disobey; this is a whole new level of complexity and order, and as society evolved, power constructs had to evolve alongside it.
Why bio-power? Perhaps because those were the elements that needed to be controlled: the body as a machine, and the "specifies body," the body as it pertains to biological processes.
Here's the fun part.
WHAT IS BIO-POWER?
Bio-power is comprised of these two areas, which Foucault refers to as "poles." The first, again, deals with the body as a machine. The disciplines (an anatomo-politics of the human body) and their procedures of power ensure the body's disciplining, the optimization of its capabilities, the extortion of its forces, the parallel increase of its usefulness and its docility, its integration into systems of efficient and economic controls. More simply, the body, as a machine, needs to be both productive (to society) and controllable.
The second of the two poles focuses on the "species body" (139, Foucault's words again) - that is, the body as it relates to biological processes. The regulatory controls (a bio-politics of the population) supervise those processes, which include "propagation, births and mortality, the level of health, life expectancy and longevity, with all the conditions that can cause these to vary" (139).
Bio-power's highest function is not the right to kill but to "invest life through and through" (139); again, power cannot be exercised through or over death, given that this is explicitly defined by Foucault as the limit of power. Rather, bio-power is power exerted and controlling throughout the duration of life, which allows for greater specificity than the comparatively simple "take life/let live" dichotomy. Thus, bio-power is a calculated management of life: it seeks to achieve the subjugation of bodies (first pole, the body as machine) and the control of populations (second pole, the species body).
"As soon as power gave itself the function of administering life" (138) writes Foucault, "its reason for being... made it more and more difficult to apply the death penalty." That is, once power's function became the administration of life, it became pointless, or at least extreme, to administer death, given that once a life has been taken, there can be no further power exerted over said life.
So now that it is throughout life, rather than through the threat of death, that power exercises control; death is no longer a viable basis for power because, quite simply, "death is power's limit" (138). Death is the very moment in which a life may escape power, because it is, as Foucault says, a private moment.
Why is it no longer possible to control a population through power derived from the right to kill? Well, remember that the sovereign "exercised his right of life only by exercising his right to kill, or by refraining from killing" (136), which is more or less how power functioned in earlier societies. What happens in the 17th century to provoke a (gradual) change? Most likely this is primarily related to the advancement of civilization, etc. etc. In the face of a changing, growing, unpredictable population, a new power had to take the place of the old one, and it had to be capable of controlling more complex factors than before. This isn't simply ordering subjects about under the threat of death should they disobey; this is a whole new level of complexity and order, and as society evolved, power constructs had to evolve alongside it.
Why bio-power? Perhaps because those were the elements that needed to be controlled: the body as a machine, and the "specifies body," the body as it pertains to biological processes.
Here's the fun part.
WHAT IS BIO-POWER?
Bio-power is comprised of these two areas, which Foucault refers to as "poles." The first, again, deals with the body as a machine. The disciplines (an anatomo-politics of the human body) and their procedures of power ensure the body's disciplining, the optimization of its capabilities, the extortion of its forces, the parallel increase of its usefulness and its docility, its integration into systems of efficient and economic controls. More simply, the body, as a machine, needs to be both productive (to society) and controllable.
The second of the two poles focuses on the "species body" (139, Foucault's words again) - that is, the body as it relates to biological processes. The regulatory controls (a bio-politics of the population) supervise those processes, which include "propagation, births and mortality, the level of health, life expectancy and longevity, with all the conditions that can cause these to vary" (139).
Bio-power's highest function is not the right to kill but to "invest life through and through" (139); again, power cannot be exercised through or over death, given that this is explicitly defined by Foucault as the limit of power. Rather, bio-power is power exerted and controlling throughout the duration of life, which allows for greater specificity than the comparatively simple "take life/let live" dichotomy. Thus, bio-power is a calculated management of life: it seeks to achieve the subjugation of bodies (first pole, the body as machine) and the control of populations (second pole, the species body).
The "repressive hypothesis" vs. "sexuality"
Thought it might be useful, seeing as Foucault is to be a foundational text for the course, if I defined some of the recurring terms and things I ought to remember for later, so here goes!
So! The repressive hypothesis, then. This is NOT what Foucault believes, but rather a theory which explains the history of sexuality (since the 18th century) as one of repression. In theory, since the rise of the bourgeoisie, 1) energy spent on purely pleasurable activities is disapproved of, and 2) sex is something private/practical and meant to be between a husband and wife. Sex outside of this construct is "repressed," and so discourse on sexuality is confined to marriage. The theory mandates that, if we are to free ourselves from this sexual repression, we must talk freely and openly about (as well as enjoy) sex/our sexuality (and if anyone would like to clear up for me which of those last two terms is appropriate to use here, by all means, let's have it then).
Here is also probably a good time to explain WHY Foucault doesn't agree with the repressive hypothesis. More discourse isn't needed regarding sex because sex has practically BECOME discourse; we've gone on about it for so long that we've effectively regulated a vast multitude of its many aspects. What we really need to do is bin all the discourse and everything related to "sex" as an ideal if we're going to rebel, NOT talk about sex more (as the repressive hypothesis would suggest), and focus on the body and pleasure (whatever that means).
SO. Sexuality isn't what makes us what we are or what defines us in any way - it's a social construct that (to some extent) controls us (which is sort of a given, seeing that's it's part of "power" - specifically, it's a huge part of what controls our society). Once again: Sexuality is not what we are. Mind you, sexuality IS, according to Foucault, historical fact - part V tells us as much (because "sex" is the platonic ideal, which is a bit of a puzzlement, while sexuality is real in that it's been a component of power for some time now). Sexuality is very much something that exists, but it exists not as some aspect of what or who we are but rather as a (factual and very real) political construct. And it's this political construct that becomes part of biopower/biopolitics (but more on that later).
This is, I think, where we get into the "right to kill"/"power over life" thing going on. If I'm going to be really simplistic about this, the idea of blood in relation to power (pre-18th century) falls under "right to kill," while sexuality as a power construct falls under "power over life." So sexuality isn't what makes us what we are at all, but rather a social construct that (to some extent) controls us. And it's more or less omnipresent, judging by what we talked about in class on Monday.
Right then. I've beat it into my head by now that sexuality is a social and political construct that (at least in part) regulates our modern society. Fantastic. Now sexuality is part of biopower/biopolitics, or else Foucault probably wouldn't be talking about it in this text. And part V of the text is pretty explicit that sexuality has "power over life." Does that mean biopolitics by definition is the practice of controlling society through biopower?
I'm going to have to come back to that. I want to wrap up the post by doing a bit of a versus match-up: the "repressive hypothesis" as a power construct versus "sexuality."
The repressive hypothesis, I think, falls under the "right to kill" school of thought. Everything under this hypothesis is supposed to deal with the heterosexual married couple as a means for self-preservation and continued existence. If "perversions" are a threat, then they must be repressed ("killed") except that doesn't really work. It's like trying to commit genocide, i.e. impossible. "Take life"/"let live" is a very narrow form of control and it doesn't work in the complex modern century (fun fact: we're no longer a feudal society).
So sexuality, then, is a similar power but much more complex, and it regulates everything through discourse rather than repression ("killing"). Sexuality is not, then, our essence, but rather a social construct through which we are controlled.
Perhaps by "sexuality" I am really referring to "biopower" (or at least a component of biopower)? Sexuality is still technically a part of the repressive hypothesis, so in employing the term "sexuality" to describe Foucault's rejection of the repressive hypothesis in favor of this other philosophy, I am using the term in a very particular way, and maybe one that is unfair. Thoughts, anyone?
So! The repressive hypothesis, then. This is NOT what Foucault believes, but rather a theory which explains the history of sexuality (since the 18th century) as one of repression. In theory, since the rise of the bourgeoisie, 1) energy spent on purely pleasurable activities is disapproved of, and 2) sex is something private/practical and meant to be between a husband and wife. Sex outside of this construct is "repressed," and so discourse on sexuality is confined to marriage. The theory mandates that, if we are to free ourselves from this sexual repression, we must talk freely and openly about (as well as enjoy) sex/our sexuality (and if anyone would like to clear up for me which of those last two terms is appropriate to use here, by all means, let's have it then).
Here is also probably a good time to explain WHY Foucault doesn't agree with the repressive hypothesis. More discourse isn't needed regarding sex because sex has practically BECOME discourse; we've gone on about it for so long that we've effectively regulated a vast multitude of its many aspects. What we really need to do is bin all the discourse and everything related to "sex" as an ideal if we're going to rebel, NOT talk about sex more (as the repressive hypothesis would suggest), and focus on the body and pleasure (whatever that means).
SO. Sexuality isn't what makes us what we are or what defines us in any way - it's a social construct that (to some extent) controls us (which is sort of a given, seeing that's it's part of "power" - specifically, it's a huge part of what controls our society). Once again: Sexuality is not what we are. Mind you, sexuality IS, according to Foucault, historical fact - part V tells us as much (because "sex" is the platonic ideal, which is a bit of a puzzlement, while sexuality is real in that it's been a component of power for some time now). Sexuality is very much something that exists, but it exists not as some aspect of what or who we are but rather as a (factual and very real) political construct. And it's this political construct that becomes part of biopower/biopolitics (but more on that later).
This is, I think, where we get into the "right to kill"/"power over life" thing going on. If I'm going to be really simplistic about this, the idea of blood in relation to power (pre-18th century) falls under "right to kill," while sexuality as a power construct falls under "power over life." So sexuality isn't what makes us what we are at all, but rather a social construct that (to some extent) controls us. And it's more or less omnipresent, judging by what we talked about in class on Monday.
Right then. I've beat it into my head by now that sexuality is a social and political construct that (at least in part) regulates our modern society. Fantastic. Now sexuality is part of biopower/biopolitics, or else Foucault probably wouldn't be talking about it in this text. And part V of the text is pretty explicit that sexuality has "power over life." Does that mean biopolitics by definition is the practice of controlling society through biopower?
I'm going to have to come back to that. I want to wrap up the post by doing a bit of a versus match-up: the "repressive hypothesis" as a power construct versus "sexuality."
The repressive hypothesis, I think, falls under the "right to kill" school of thought. Everything under this hypothesis is supposed to deal with the heterosexual married couple as a means for self-preservation and continued existence. If "perversions" are a threat, then they must be repressed ("killed") except that doesn't really work. It's like trying to commit genocide, i.e. impossible. "Take life"/"let live" is a very narrow form of control and it doesn't work in the complex modern century (fun fact: we're no longer a feudal society).
So sexuality, then, is a similar power but much more complex, and it regulates everything through discourse rather than repression ("killing"). Sexuality is not, then, our essence, but rather a social construct through which we are controlled.
Perhaps by "sexuality" I am really referring to "biopower" (or at least a component of biopower)? Sexuality is still technically a part of the repressive hypothesis, so in employing the term "sexuality" to describe Foucault's rejection of the repressive hypothesis in favor of this other philosophy, I am using the term in a very particular way, and maybe one that is unfair. Thoughts, anyone?
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Fragmentation of sexuality and the growth of perversion
So here is a thing that is stuck in my head from class last Wednesday (9/14): the fragmentation of sexuality. Thinking back to the list of paraphilias - the fact that these are so clearly defined and laid-out for us is yet another embodiment of the (presumably Victorian, at least initially) practice of controlling something through discourse rather than repression/taboo. These things aren't taboo in and of themselves, but by describing each paraphilia in such specific terms, and both by setting up a mechanism for talking about these specific fetishes and by providing a mechanism to decide what is "normal" and what is "abnormal," we have, through discourse, created a mechanism by which to judge sexuality that is infinitely more effective in labeling something "abnormal" or unacceptable, taboo, etc., than would be a mechanism created through actual taboo, repression, and/or silence.
Writing that out helps me wrap my head around the idea of controlling/hiding away/repressing various aspects of sexuality through talking about it, rather than refusing to talk about it. And in talking about it, we very naturally define ourselves in terms of our sexuality, because we can all identify with, or not identify with, certain aspects of sexuality.
So where does the fragmentation of sexuality come into this? (Took awhile to get to my actual point, didn't I.) The short version: by dividing sexuality into various paraphilias, permutations, and so-called abnormalities, we simultaneously sort ourselves into groups depending on which aspects we identify with. The simplest example of this is, perhaps, homosexuality, where being homosexual becomes an identifying characteristic for a rather large percentage of people, setting them apart.
But how much of that is perpetuated by sexuality and how much is perpetuated by people? Drawing from personal experience, I play for a roller derby team, and homosexuality is more or less traditionally part of the sport. There is a strong homosexual vein running through derby culture, and it's impossible to separate that out. And then, on some level, maybe we desire or intend to be divided into groups based on such characteristics - you get other derby leagues discriminating against heterosexual players and referees (in extreme cases, but it does happen), so to some extent, this group of people is deliberately separating themselves. Alternately, I suppose this could also be explained as a backlash to the forces which separated them as a population in the first place. Either way, "gay culture" as a whole is the most easily-identifiable example of sexual fragmentation, and I think it occurs both through the way we talk about sexuality and the way those defined by their sexuality as a fragmented group or population then go on to define themselves.
Here is the part where I change topics abruptly (because this is one I was having trouble with and then the light bulb suddenly went on).
Foucault says again and again things like: "The growth of perversions is not a moralizing theme that obsessed the scrupulous minds of the Victorians. It is the real product of the encroachment of a type of power on bodies and their pleasures" (48).
Okay. (That sounds you hear is me cracking my knuckles, mind.) The apparent explosion of the various types of perversions has nothing to do with society becoming more "moral" and identifying more and more perversions to stamp out and everything to do with our ability to put sexuality into words becoming a major force in "identifying" perversions. The "product" (that is, the growth of perversion" is the "product of the encroachment of power on bodies" - and I like the use of enroachment here because in a way, discourse is really a foreign idea to introduce to sexuality. I'm not sure how much (how many?) perversion(s) existed before discourse sought to shape it (and thereby control it), but surely much of it existed before its regulation. I guess what I really wonder is, how much? That is one long list of paraphilias I have sitting next to my laptop as I type. Did we figure these out as we figured out other things - that is, did we give words to define and control "autoandrophilia" (from Wikipedia: "a biological female imagining herself as a male") once we realized things like homosexuality and gender identity "existed"? These ideas naturally build on themselves, but what I'm getting from Foucault is that things like autoandrophilia already existed, but quietly, without being described through language.
Note to self: discuss language's constrictive power later on. It's amazing how it confines and effects sexuality.
Writing that out helps me wrap my head around the idea of controlling/hiding away/repressing various aspects of sexuality through talking about it, rather than refusing to talk about it. And in talking about it, we very naturally define ourselves in terms of our sexuality, because we can all identify with, or not identify with, certain aspects of sexuality.
So where does the fragmentation of sexuality come into this? (Took awhile to get to my actual point, didn't I.) The short version: by dividing sexuality into various paraphilias, permutations, and so-called abnormalities, we simultaneously sort ourselves into groups depending on which aspects we identify with. The simplest example of this is, perhaps, homosexuality, where being homosexual becomes an identifying characteristic for a rather large percentage of people, setting them apart.
But how much of that is perpetuated by sexuality and how much is perpetuated by people? Drawing from personal experience, I play for a roller derby team, and homosexuality is more or less traditionally part of the sport. There is a strong homosexual vein running through derby culture, and it's impossible to separate that out. And then, on some level, maybe we desire or intend to be divided into groups based on such characteristics - you get other derby leagues discriminating against heterosexual players and referees (in extreme cases, but it does happen), so to some extent, this group of people is deliberately separating themselves. Alternately, I suppose this could also be explained as a backlash to the forces which separated them as a population in the first place. Either way, "gay culture" as a whole is the most easily-identifiable example of sexual fragmentation, and I think it occurs both through the way we talk about sexuality and the way those defined by their sexuality as a fragmented group or population then go on to define themselves.
Here is the part where I change topics abruptly (because this is one I was having trouble with and then the light bulb suddenly went on).
Foucault says again and again things like: "The growth of perversions is not a moralizing theme that obsessed the scrupulous minds of the Victorians. It is the real product of the encroachment of a type of power on bodies and their pleasures" (48).
Okay. (That sounds you hear is me cracking my knuckles, mind.) The apparent explosion of the various types of perversions has nothing to do with society becoming more "moral" and identifying more and more perversions to stamp out and everything to do with our ability to put sexuality into words becoming a major force in "identifying" perversions. The "product" (that is, the growth of perversion" is the "product of the encroachment of power on bodies" - and I like the use of enroachment here because in a way, discourse is really a foreign idea to introduce to sexuality. I'm not sure how much (how many?) perversion(s) existed before discourse sought to shape it (and thereby control it), but surely much of it existed before its regulation. I guess what I really wonder is, how much? That is one long list of paraphilias I have sitting next to my laptop as I type. Did we figure these out as we figured out other things - that is, did we give words to define and control "autoandrophilia" (from Wikipedia: "a biological female imagining herself as a male") once we realized things like homosexuality and gender identity "existed"? These ideas naturally build on themselves, but what I'm getting from Foucault is that things like autoandrophilia already existed, but quietly, without being described through language.
Note to self: discuss language's constrictive power later on. It's amazing how it confines and effects sexuality.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Binary sex, male tomboys, and Eddie Izzard
The first thing I'd like to get sorted here is that I'm rubbish at starting blogs, so if anyone from class is reading this, feel free to wait for/skip forward to my later posts, as this one's likely to be primarily rambling.
That said: One of the things that's gotten me thinking from last Wednesday's class is the idea of a binary view of the sexes, as the binary itself is, by definition, a phallic construction. If woman is defined as what man is not - as man's negative - then woman becomes a pretty broad category.
Connecting this with the clip of Eddie Izzard, if "man" is comprised of a very specific set of things, and "woman" is whatever "man" is not, then wouldn't that mean that everyone who doesn't (can't, won't) identify with strictly one sex, and/or everyone whose sex can't be accurately described as one or the other, automatically falls into the category of woman? Under the phallogocentric language and culture of binary sexes, as Butler says, "women constitute the unrepresentable" (p 13 of Gender Trouble; emphasis is not my own). So what constitutes "unrepresentable"? Should transsexuals be classified as unrepresentable on the basis that they were born a particular sex yet now identify (or are) another? Is a transsexual "man" still a man despite being born a woman?
In this day and age, yes, a binary system of sex is technically out of the question (though not out of language and ideology - yet, anyway) because it is physically inadequate to describe the broadened spectrum of sex, let alone gender. But let's look at gender, then. If I'm physically male but identify as female, what changes? I'm still technically male, but I'm going to draw from Eddie Izzard again - much of the humor from the military part of his sketch comes from the audience's inability to fully accept his identity as a "man." Yet clearly he isn't a woman; it's even specified that he fancies women and doesn't consider himself one in any way. Eddie Izzard falls outside the "normal" spectrum of binary gender (obviously), but even if the system is inadequate (in that so many forms of sex and gender identity defy description under it), it's very much ingrained in our minds as a culture, and as such impossible to cast neatly aside to make room for changes in sex and identity.
Basically (and this is terribly boiled-down), if you aren't man, then you're the Other - and I can't understand the category of Other to strictly refer to woman. Quoting Butler again: "...[W]omen are the sex which is not 'one,' but multiple" (13).
So those thoughts are now, at least, out of my brain for the moment. Moving on - I'd like to revisit the terms Eddie Izzard uses in his sketch. The idea of a lesbian in a man's body in particular strikes me as a great way to get people to think about gender identity, because of course if you're a man and you fancy women, it makes you "straight" (or even "normal," depending on who you ask), but it's a clear diversion from what constitutes a male identity. I'm thinking I'll come back to this one later on.
That said: One of the things that's gotten me thinking from last Wednesday's class is the idea of a binary view of the sexes, as the binary itself is, by definition, a phallic construction. If woman is defined as what man is not - as man's negative - then woman becomes a pretty broad category.
Connecting this with the clip of Eddie Izzard, if "man" is comprised of a very specific set of things, and "woman" is whatever "man" is not, then wouldn't that mean that everyone who doesn't (can't, won't) identify with strictly one sex, and/or everyone whose sex can't be accurately described as one or the other, automatically falls into the category of woman? Under the phallogocentric language and culture of binary sexes, as Butler says, "women constitute the unrepresentable" (p 13 of Gender Trouble; emphasis is not my own). So what constitutes "unrepresentable"? Should transsexuals be classified as unrepresentable on the basis that they were born a particular sex yet now identify (or are) another? Is a transsexual "man" still a man despite being born a woman?
In this day and age, yes, a binary system of sex is technically out of the question (though not out of language and ideology - yet, anyway) because it is physically inadequate to describe the broadened spectrum of sex, let alone gender. But let's look at gender, then. If I'm physically male but identify as female, what changes? I'm still technically male, but I'm going to draw from Eddie Izzard again - much of the humor from the military part of his sketch comes from the audience's inability to fully accept his identity as a "man." Yet clearly he isn't a woman; it's even specified that he fancies women and doesn't consider himself one in any way. Eddie Izzard falls outside the "normal" spectrum of binary gender (obviously), but even if the system is inadequate (in that so many forms of sex and gender identity defy description under it), it's very much ingrained in our minds as a culture, and as such impossible to cast neatly aside to make room for changes in sex and identity.
Basically (and this is terribly boiled-down), if you aren't man, then you're the Other - and I can't understand the category of Other to strictly refer to woman. Quoting Butler again: "...[W]omen are the sex which is not 'one,' but multiple" (13).
So those thoughts are now, at least, out of my brain for the moment. Moving on - I'd like to revisit the terms Eddie Izzard uses in his sketch. The idea of a lesbian in a man's body in particular strikes me as a great way to get people to think about gender identity, because of course if you're a man and you fancy women, it makes you "straight" (or even "normal," depending on who you ask), but it's a clear diversion from what constitutes a male identity. I'm thinking I'll come back to this one later on.
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