5..4...3...2..1..

Is it really that time again? Has the countdown really reached the zero? It flew by, and my head feels so crammed and jam-packed with knowledge and theory I wish I was unpacking that instead of all the things from my dorm room. So, I'm going to go for it. I've had my struggles with each other in one way or another, but I've learned from each of them - either things about myself, about society, or feminism as a whole. I'm predisposed to be afraid of the unknown (thank you society). There are more lenses for evaluating a story or its characters than I could wrap my mind around. Feminism is a complex structure that is constantly being reevaluated and altered, with terms that are being redefined almost constantly. It is a fight to end the oppression of women, in all stages of life, in every country, of every color, faith, age and sexual preference. It is a unification for a better world. The best thing I gained from this class? A challenge. A challenge to reevaluate my own perspectives, but also to embrace people whether I agree with theirs or not. I learned that I am a feminist (though moderately so) and that I have a voice, and it is to be used. I am not to be objectified, silenced or confined by anything or anyone, and I am to help others to the same.

Graphic Novels...?

I've never been the biggest fan of Graphic Novels, but as Judith Butler would say, it's probably because I don't understand them. And its true...yes, Judith, you're right. I didn't understand them, and I certainly don't claim to now, but I will say that I've found them to be pretty cool. After studying Jane Eyre as a graphic novel in the context of the BBC miniseries I found that a new lens was put on the story - not where you found a person who could fill the pre-existing character like the miniseries, but one in which the artist got to create the characters to be whatever he wished them to be (which turned out to be fairly unfortunate for Bertha..). Nonetheless, this new dimension was fascinating to me, one in which I could both watch the moments pass as I do in the film, and read the words of Ms. Bronte. Reading the novel and studying the pictures, I felt a connection with the artist, as if he had let me into his mind, to see what the story was to him, what their faces looked like, who they would become - it was moving. One of the most striking aspects of the novel was the fact that the novel was adapted in length, but the phrases remained identical to those written by Charlotte Bronte. So, when the novel seemed to be so drastically different in tone than the story Bronte had created, I discovered that it was the power of illustration - it changed the way I viewed each character and determined my impressions of each of them. The graphic novelists have kept Bronte's work but stolen her power, predetermining the audience-character relationship from page one.

The Big Comfy Couch just got a little less comfy.

Judith Butler challenges her readers in Undoing Gender with the reality that we have a fear and discomfort with the unknown, as if it is a threat to our self and the world for the simple fact that it is uncategorizable and unfamiliar. Non-normative characteristics scare us because we don't know what to do about, with, or for them. Thus she posits that we are called to challenge the existing epistemological and ontological structures and ethical views and adhere instead to one of unknowing. We must learn to get comfortable with discomfort, because to grow as human beings we need to be uncomfortable. Growing pains, anyone?

Shaking up Shakespeare

The performative nature of social interactions was taken to new levels by Shakespeare, displaying for anyone who would watch, a dramatic or comedic mockery of a society preceding our own. His irreverence for categories and hierarchies, touched by fantastical articulation of a possible reality created an outlet for frustration and a mode of challenging societal norms. His characters ranged from kings and queens to rebellious teens, and then from men playing women to women playing men...or men playing women playing men. Still following? Good. What's the point? Here it is! These convoluted gender situations paved the way for an exploration of sexuality that defied boundaries and rebelled oppression. Females gained agency and prominence, burst out of the societal roles thrust upon them into these characters who embraced irrationality, seized control of kingdoms and wrought the hearts of men. And that was just the beginning...

So what does that have to do with feminism? Well, it has to start somewhere. Women surpassed their circumstances or embraced their chosen fate, real or fictitious, it was a start. And the ball hasn't stopped rolling since.

Newest Victim: Edward Rochester

Jane Eyre is a compelling novel, when read carefully, because there are endless possibilities of places for your interests to settle upon. Today, I pick Rochester. Patriarch, masculine man, dark and shadowy, right? Eh. Maybe not so much. In taking a closer look at Jane Eyre, it is possible to find Rochester at a crux of vulnerability, never truly sharing his story or existing for himself, he is not more than a character in Jane's world whose sole purpose is to be the physical realization of Jane's emotional weight, a bucket into which she can pour her every emotion and fill her desires. Rochester: the projection screen. Blank, white, a canvas ready to become whatever the other wills it to be. He is what Jane projects onto him, the darkness, the ambiguity, secrets and manly stature. Every tale is of her accord, every word is as it is by means of her memory, the secrets are secrets for no other reason than that she doesn't know them - but he does. Could it be? Really? Is Rochester the victim? Is he the objectified being? I'm afraid so, at least in this context. We've discussed in class that in most cases, when rights are given to one, they are taken from another. So then, what the Gothic novel has done here, by elevating the woman and policing the heroine, has created the objectification of another, in this case - Rochester. He is the other half of Jane's embodied relationship with her emotions, struggling to complement instead of overwhelm. What does this mean for the men of Jane Eyre, whose stories get told for them?

I Feel ___, and ____, and ___, and ____, and ___.....

Women are stereotyped for our emotional attachments, reactions, explanations, interactions, relations, (need I go on - you know what I mean). So, I personally find it delightful when literature not only highlights it, but leaves the door wide open, so that we can [emotionally] charge in, and make it like home. Make it like home? How? Well, let's follow stereotypical suit - by overanalyzing, judging, exploring, and conversing of course! Bertha...dear, sweet, Bertha. Are you crazy?
The Madwoman in the Attic. Hmm, Bertha..how does that make you feel? Pissed. She's angry! And who, honestly, in her position, wouldn't be? She's controlled by a man who waltzed in, claimed her money, her body, and home for his own, then ripped from the place she knows and is confined to a room - come on ladies, what woman wouldn't be angry? Personally, I get mad when someone takes something and doesn't put it back, I can't imagine the rage I'd have if I were Rys's Antoinette. She's held captive by vow, by law, and by physical force, by an emotionally stunted man. - yes, sad as I am to admit it, the gallant Rochester from Bronte's novel is no more, he's replaced by this obnoxiously privileged man, who is severly lacking interior depth. He refuses to claim emotional or ethical resposibility for the happiness of his wife, refusing to be anything but self-centric, as if they're all in The World According to Rochester. While Antoinette is ready and willing to abandon her self for the well being of the other, Rochester remains all-inclusive of everything Rockester, and anything else is simply rejected. But back to the woman (isn't that how it always goes?) - Dear Antoinette. Oh, the woman who's name means "beyond praise," how neglected you've become! They call her crazy, insane, mentally ill, but with what reasoning? Because she's angry? Because women aren't supposed to be angry? Rochester can't handle it when she shares the fears and pains of her heart, what makes us think he'd be any less forgiving in his description of her than his willingness to be a spouse? These dreams, the ghosts, the reflections she sees, are they not all simply the emotional ends of emotional means? Because while Rochester has the ability to un-act himself, to drop character, to claim his privilege to simply not deal with women, women cannot escape themselves! Or can they?
What Antoinette does to deal with all these emotions is create two realities, because one is no longer enough. The lines blur between her reality and her dreams, but in both she is tormented and controlled by the emotions for which she has no outlet...

On Your Mark, Get Set, Don't Go!

Race. It marks you. It sets you in a mold, in a place, separated by nothing more than a microscopic genetic marker, impossible to be seen in its origin, but realized on the surface - scrutinized, judged, stereotyped, for something that isn't done or made, but simply is. Jean Rhys colors it ugly in Wide Sargasso Sea, subtly and tastefully, introducing us to Charlotte Bronte's characters, unmarked. Race in Antoinette's world is about as clear and identifiable as the fruit in a smoothie. The smoothie-mentality fails to catch on, as we see in Rochester's emotional abandonment of Antoinette. I am extremely intruiged by his shock when he learns of Antoinette's self-proclaimed half brother, Daniel. Tainted by her relation to her father's illegitimate half-white half-black child, Antoinette ceases to be the same in Rochester's eyes. But why? What is so off-putting about the family of his culturally torn bride? Antoinette is enslaved, not only by marriage, but by blood. That unseen marker, that sets her in Rochester's mind - different.
But what, then, about Jane? Bronte's dear, main character...she's often seen as a foil for Bertha, sure. But what about the Antoinette-Jane, sans Bertha? Before Bertha. Culturally torn, divided by family, bound by money, seeking equality or in the least, solidarity, in emotions. We've posited before in class that race and class were nearly synonomous in their day, so then why not draw lines between the bold connections that tie Antoinette and Jane? Why ignore their need for emotional depth and commitment from Rochester? Why write-off the monetary control and struggle that underlies their relationships, not only with Rochester but with Family, Friends, or anyone with whom they share an experience? Jane struggles to define who she is because of her lack of family, where as Antoinette is bound and judged by her own, but this schism should divide them - it should unite them, as Rhys and Bronte do in their subtle exposees of these women.

There's no place like Rome, Judy.

Okay, Judith Butler. I have a bone to pick with you. It may come off as a religious bone because, well, it is. But just as much as it's an issue of religion, it's an issue of the English Language. COME ON, JUDY - The Vatican is a place. It's a building. And if I wasn't hyper aware of anti-catholic sentiments in Feminism, I'd just think you were confusing. The Vatican is as much a person as The White House. You say White House, I say - what? Who are you talking about? The President or The Obama Family? Or the Obama Administration? Or the Employees of the White House? Or all those who have inhabited it? Previous Presidents? Or has the White House actually sprouted appendages and motor functions and is doing things on its own? (I admit, the last one is ridiculous, I'm just having fun, now.)
So, dearest Judith. when you say that "The Vatican" is doing something - I'm a little perplexed. Because, you see, the Vatican (Holy See) is a City State, solely located in Rome, which has been headed by 266 different Popes, and currently is the spiritual home of 1.196 billion believers across the entire globe. The people within it have changed just a *couple* times over the past 2,000 years, so the fact that you are not only referring to the Vatican as an active being (for the sake of continuing a conversation I in theory just ended by nullifying your statements, I'll assume you meant the Papacy, or perhaps the Catholic Church as a whole), but minimizing its influence, purpose, and intentions of one of the worlds largest and most influential institutions to one facet, based on one experience, in one year without actually doing any real research on the stances, teachings, and dogmas of the Church I assume you were trying to attack.
For instance, if you had referenced the Catechism of the Catholic Church before ignorantly labeling "The Vatican" (again, I'll assume you meant the Church) is homophobic you would find that it teaches love towards all, "They [homosexual individuals] must be accepted with respect, compassion, and sensitivity. Every sign of unjust discrimination in their regard should be avoided." (CCC 2358).
I thank you for crediting Pope John Paul the II (though of course in your writing, he is also just "the Vatican") with his apology to Women, and just for your knowledge, he also apologized to the Jews for Catholics' inactivity since the Holocaust, for the mistreatment of Galileo, African American People for the Church's involvement with Slave trade, Protestants for post-reformation wars and burnings, among the Aboriginal Children of Australia, the Chinese, and first and foremost, the sex abuse cases. Blessed Pope John Paul II was adored across the globe, treasured femininity and literally lived to love. He deserves the title of Saint he is sure to gain, not to be reduced as one of the multiple things you've put under the ambiguous umbrella of "the Vatican."
You don't support your claims because your main goal is to shed a negative light on a powerful force. And it is a force. Because chances are, someone who knows her stuff and isn't afraid to speak up is going to pick apart your arguments to reveal how weak its structure is...like a tower of Jenga pieces coated in insults, disguised as a sturdy structure, strong enough to dissolve the core of a 2,000 year old religion and the 1.196 billion people who adore it.
So, Ms. Butler, simply put - You're confusing. And if someone is able to ignore that and read through your insults-disguised-as-logic, your reasoning is weak.  At least put up a little bit of a fight.

mega-Zine.

So this "Zine" scene is completely foreign to me. But hey, it's artsy, it's crafty, and its a silent way of being loud. 3 things I'm gung-ho for, so let's give it a shot. I could be subtle, I could be reserved, but that's not really me - and let's be honest, that's not what this class is either. So...Nudity. Oh hey.

These Zines we created, these teeny tiny little books chocked full of opinion, theory, rebellion, and pretty pictures, are just that - our creation. Now, bear with me (the self-proclaimed Jesus freak) those of you whose pursuit of truth has lead you elsewhere. Say we are created by God, (still bearing with me?) that means that our bodies, our organs, our faces and our flesh were made..but not just made - created. Like a song, like a story, like a poem, like a painting - all creations. What's my point? I'm getting there. What we've begun to churn and turn and chug out in these zines is a challenge to the portrayal male and female (minus the clothes). And we're back to the Nudity. Why is it that, out of the two (male and female) the female form is so ever-present? You know what I'm talking about - bare breasts, posed 'just so', maybe a cloth covering the lower half, but a good chance there isn't. Why is that so beautiful, so celebrated, so common, yet the male form is so rare? Is it shameful? I would posit not, based on the conversations with my hardly-subtle male friends. Is it because women wouldn't be able to harness their sexual drive if such art work existed? Hardly. Descretion seems to be innate in our beings. Is it for lack of models? Pardon me but - hahahaha. No. I'm sure I could walk out of my office and find a handful right here and now. So then what - AH HA! Vulnerability. It is, after all, by definition "the state of being exposed" (thanks, Google). So, what, we as women are supposed to be vulnerable, all the time? everywhere? In every museum, in every frame, wherever Art is needed? Alright, cool. But only if men are, too. Let's get some equality! We're both creations, we're both the ultimate art - the human form. So why don't we "celebrate" the male form as well? Is it less beautiful? Is it offensive to refer to anything male-related as beautiful? I don't care. The human form is a beautiful thing, a marvelous creation, if we can appreciate it in the feminine form and claim our vulnerability and transform it into a kind of liberation, why shouldn't men be celebrated in the same way?

I realize I'm breaking every stereotype of Feminism in this because for once, I'm claiming that men should be able to do, and have, and be celebrated in the same way as women, rather than vice versa. But the materials we read in class reflect and support this - they challenge the things of our surroundings (not just what's going on in our minds) that we've accepted and make us question, why? Alright, Men - Fight..*dun*dun*..For your right...*dun*dun*...to be Nude! In all seriousness - it's about time we start appreciating the human form, as a whole, no matter of gender. And maybe, one our art depicts that, our society will reflect it.

Sister Outsider - Why Won't You Let Me In?

Audre Lorde irks me. Some may say she's brilliant, or progressive, I'd call her exclusive. And frequently contradictory. Even if we, as "critical" readers were to set aside the fact that Lorde rarely fails to title herself as the "black, feminist, lesbian, mother, poet" that she was, any member of her audience is excluded at some point or another by default because we cannot identify with every facet of her identity. As much as she preaches sisterhood she encourages individuality and the self alone. You can't travel the pages of her book without being swarmed by the wasps of her harsh tone, or drowned by the floods of her extreme feminism, or pinned by her anti-racist yet race-bound remarks. I am not black. I am not a lesbian. I am not a mother. And I am not an extreme feminist, for I do not find anything in the extreme to be productive, sensical, or loving towards any "other." It as if she claims that to be a sister you must be an outsider in all aspects, which I am not, nor do I think I will ever be. In all her open-mindedness, she closes the door. And what good are we - the slightly less ostracized, the minimally insecure, the dominant quality in whatever category it may be - if you won't let us come out to play?

A Right to Be Religious

In a recent class discussion, we toyed with the impact and purpose of religion in feminism, so I ask: Is it good or bad to have religion as a feminist? Is it possible?
I dare to say it is possible, and good. (and now, everyone gasps).
Yes, I believe it to be true. As was presented to us in class today, there lies a freeing aspect in religion when tied to feminism. A dual community - one in faith and one in the fight. To be strong and not only educated in, but passionate about one's faith structure, whatever it may be, creates a support structure outside of the self.
In writing we are taught to have and utilize secondary sources, in order to prove and argue our point. Well, in the struggle to gain full rights to write our own stories as women and human beings, why on earth would we not want to utilize any and every resource available to us - why not draw from sources that have existed for hundreds or thousands of years? Just as Bronte does through Jane in her novel, we are allowed (and encouraged) to free ourselves and save ourselves - ourselves. To say that we would be wise to use religion as a resource is not to say that we are then somehow dependent on men just because it is most often men who support religious structures. But rather, if we as women feel like the minority, why would we not then want encouragement and empathy from those like us in history? Three women have books in the Bible, out of 73 books total, all with courageous stories of confidence, defiance, and strength. These women are not lesser because there are less than them, they are all the greater for it! It is a sad state when a fight for the right of women to fulfill their vocation, a way of life to which one feels drawn is somehow separated from a belief because it's title bears the burden of a negative connotation, when in fact, it is rooted in bonding and reliance between humans - is that not the recipe for a united front?
So, then, the question becomes not is it good or bad, but why aren't we using it, as Bronte did?  What are we afraid of?

The Reality of Regina, Karen and Gretchen - Mean Girls is a Documentary

We discussed in class this week the exclusions in the feminist movement, which I found to be a direct reflection on our exclusions of each other in every day life. Exclusion is both directional and intentional; that is to say that one cannot "accidentally" excludea person, race or gender. Bell discusses this concept further in her chapter on sisterhood, inferring that we must appreciate and acknowledge the differences without resenting them or allowing them to separate us. We must all be willing to be a member, not just a leader. To stand next to, not just in front of. To support, not just to be supported. To be the echo, not just the voice. We have become enemies within a group, foes posing as friends. We rest in the complacency of our solitude, with a unified facade. When will we care? When will we acknowledge the beauty that lies in the difference of skin, class, and experience? No one is forcing us to pretend, no one is encouraging this slap-with-a-smile way of life, and no one is leading us who is not one of us. We have a common bond and a common enemy, we are sisters and we are fighters. What we do not realize, however, is that the greatest evil we fight is not that of another gender, or an already shifting society.  There is a "common enemy" in this war, but we so often fail to see is that the enemy is within.

Cosmo, People and Us

What if we became what we read? What would we, as women, become? What would it say about us? What would our purpose be and who would we be to others - more importantly, what would we see when we looked in the mirror? We would be creatures who live on minimal food, but thrive on fashion, beings who do little to empower themselves yet seek to please others. In our analysis of these "grocery aisle texts" we find a despicable version of ourselves. A version that cripples our movement for self-respect and equality, a version that feeds on jealousy, envy and superficiality. One that creates friendship on common hatred rather than a common cause. Bell Hooks writes, "exploitation and discrimination are words that more accurately describe the lot of women collectively in the United States" - why do we buy into it? Why to we buy a magazine that promises to teach us how to please our men, or slap a half-nude photo of Kim Kardashian on the front (or worse, recently the 17 year old Dakota Fanning). What are we doing? Why do we support this, instead of supporting each other? Is that section of every petty magazine really that necessary when they show us pictures to prove that celebrities really are just like us? Do we really elevate them to the point that shots of them in sweats buying groceries or holding their children are what make them human to us? Granted, Bell has a point in saying "we are not all oppressed, nor equally oppressed," since female celebrities transcend racial and gender-based classification in their ever-increasing socio-economic well being and popularity. But then why do we support their exploitation, or allow our own discrimination, to the point that we are used as creatures who exist merely to be art, audience or object. We should put down the magazine, become the artist, the actor and the subject in and of our own lives - moving and fighting for the right to be exactly who we want and deserve to be.

Everyday Esther

Jane Eyre in her day was the epitome of the Biblical Esther, and the Ancient Mythological Antigone. She was a fiesty, headstrong, woman who kept to her confines because she knew that using the boundaries that limited her, would ultimately aid her - using patriarchal power to free herself rather than bind her. In all three women, we see an agenda, fueled by personal allegiances and motives, controlled and confined by political expectations. In modern-day feminism, we argue that personal things risk the cause, that they are liabilities rather than beneficial liberties. However, for these women, the personal was their drive - to defend themselves, their people, their brother. Each of them used their femininity and the gender roles that defined them to control the men that headed their patriarchal societies.
    The constant tug-of-war between freedom and restraint, their old world and their new world prevents these women from really belonging to either.

In the Beginning

Let me start by explaining my title - It's taken from the blog of Johanna Hopes, in her reading and interpretation of a book called Captivating, a piece that focuses on women and femininity through a theistic yet gender-conscious lens:

"Creation was not made perfect in the eyes of God until He created a woman. Eve. The crescendo. God’s piece de resistance. She is the master’s finishing touch."

Lovely, isn't it?
So, here I am, a young woman at Michigan State University, in a class called English 482: Seminar in Feminist Literary and Cultural Theory...And....here we go!

We're starting the semester off strong, with a critical piece by Sandra Gilbert and Susan Gubar: The Madwoman in the Attic. In our excerpt, the two critics begin by quoting Ms. Emily Dickinson, an eloquent favorite of mine:
                "I told my Soul to sing -
                She said her Strings were snapt -
                Her bow - to Atoms blown -
                And so to mend her - gave me work
                Until another Morn-"
The attention to the Soul intrigues me, as one may have guessed by the title of my blog. For the person we choose to express and seek to validate in the Feminist sense is tied to our soul - which is simply the source of our being, complicated by and in constant conflict with the world around us and the flesh in which it abides.

That being said, Gilbert and Gubar trace Jane's journey into womanhood, from the wretched home of her Aunt, to Lowood, then Thornfield and Marsh End, or as they so bluntly put it "opression, starvation, madness and coldness," the most unpleasant of journeys that make Cindarella's stool by the fire and shameless stepsisters seem like a four-star vacation. Miss Jane is a sweet-n-sour servant, always eager to serve as means to escape whatever services bind her, yet this leads her into her own gospel of sorts - a crowning of thorns at Thornfield, as G & G point out, something I find more than slightly poignant. She seeks service, yet is always curious about things that are put either beyond her reach or lead her to abandon her rational thought for seemingly irrational quests and questions.

Realizing the randomness of my thoughts, I'll try to tie it all together by the end of the semester, with the help of our future readings, further contributions to my thoughts, and the hope of gaining some insight to add to intelligence. Until then, Adieu.