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?
Monday, October 31, 2011
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.
---
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?
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