Another (Republican) politician has expressed his moral and religious hypocrisy by cheating on his wife. This is a recurrent issue, and there is very little to say. However, I did think the Young Turks did a good job highlighting the various dimensions of this sort of hypocrisy, and how it relates to the same-sex struggle for marriage:
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
Homosexual Actors in Heterosexual Roles, and an Essay
I felt I should acknowledge this article from Newsweek that was released a few weeks ago, but continues to cause a stir. It is, of course, silly, and doesn't really deserve the attention, but a negative is usually followed by a thousand attempts at a positive that only inflate the social capital of the negative.
The article, by suggesting that Sean Hayes's performance as a heterosexual character is wooden because of his sexual identity, is interjecting sexual debate where it doesn't belong. Theatrical criticism is one thing, but suggesting that his pretending to be 'x' is skewed because of 'y' is ridiculous. There is little evidence that his sexual identity is the cause of his "wooden performance," which is, of course, ultimately an opinion anyways. Sexual identity and sexual politics seem to be Newsweek's main goals.
Actors generally aren't attacked when they fail at playing socioeconomically disadvantage characters because they are not socioeconomically disadvantaged; they are attacked in more general ways, as a bad actor, or for life distractions. Here, however, Sean Hayes is being directly criticized because of sexual identity. An "inability to relate" to a character can potentially be a problem, but is often offset by the attributes that make an actor an actor (an ability to transform their identity based on a role). There is no objective manner in which to measure the negative affects of personal identity on an actor's craft (especially implicit genetic traits; external traits, such as substance abuse, can be more explicitly analyzed), and therefore this argument against Sean Hayes is merely a way to create sexual debate and controversy as a means of publicity and sensational (in a sense) journalism. It unfortunately has created too much of a stir for no reason.
So, I will get off that topic (mostly because I feel my analysis rather inadequate), and I will fill some more space with another essay; this time it's one I wrote recently for an American poetry course. I've been focusing a lot on sexual orientation in this blog, but this essay also expresses my consciousness about gender, as it relates the repression of female identity:
Fragmentation and Return: The Projection of Female Transgression in Dickinson, Piatt, and Bradstreet
The “return of the repressed,” a psychosexual construct established by Sigmund Freud, represents the implications of attempting to assert a self in a world saturated with dominant sociopolitical assumptions. The “return” ultimately emerges from a compromise “between repressed material and repressing forces,” a consequence of “a relative failure of the repressing force” (Erwin 496) to regulate psychological expression. This “compromise” translates into a fragmentation of the self, an embodiment of a psychic conflict between repressed desires and social boundaries. Fragmentation is a mechanism through which to “covertly indulge a previously fended-off and prohibited gratification” (Erwin 496) by often “‘externalizing’ and ‘projecting’ these feelings ‘outward’” (Schalow 169). The “Other” that is constructed by this process symbolizes the “repressed” material, permitting the physical self, the component of the ego that is subject to an external sociopolitical gaze, to continue its feigned and complicated “proper” social existence.
Emily Dickinson, in “One need not be a chamber to be haunted” (563-564), utilizes an internalized “Other,” the “assassin,” to present the tensions of a fragmented self. This self implicitly recognizes the significance of projection and repression, its anxiety about the return of the repressed prompting it to bolt “the Door.” In Sarah Piatt’s “The Palace-Burner” (600-601) fragmentation of the female ego parallels a dichotomized conception of the political and domestic spheres. The “Picture in a Newspaper,” stimulating an internal debate about the societal function of the female, reflects the return of the repressed, the external projection that mediates an internal discourse. The return of the repressed fully materializes in Anne Bradstreet’s “The Author to Her Book” (46). The narrator, by perverting maternal qualifiers, represents the tensions of female artistic expression and the construction of female identity by masculine sociopolitical structures, illustrating her “ill-form’d offspring” as a projection of “improper” gender deviance. These poems suggest a fragmentation of the female self that emerges both from inherent psychological conditions, as in Dickinson, and from social implications, as in Piatt and Bradstreet
The narrator of “One need not be a chamber to be haunted” immediately excises her discourse from the domestic sphere, highlighting the universality of psychology: “One need not be a Chamber - to be haunted -/One need not be a House-/The brain has Corridors- surpassing/ Material Place-” (1-4). The “‘externalizing’ and ‘projecting’” (Schalow 169) central to the fragmentation of the self stimulated by the return of the repressed is then, after gender assumptions are erased, recognized: “Far safer, of a midnight meeting/External Ghost/Than it’s interior confronting” (5-7). The “External Ghost,” the projection of repressed material onto an “Other,” is “far safer” than a direct confrontation within the “interior,” the psyche. The “Ghost,” however, the internal psychology that transforms into supernatural externality, forces a return to the domestic sphere and gender ideology. In this way, the poem itself mirrors the process of the return of the repressed. This return of the repressed, because it is generated by gender complications, produces an external “Other” that corrupts traditional female space. This space becomes invisible as the psyche, now dislodged from a singular self, is populated by a multitude of selves, reflecting Frank Schalow’s contention that “the more fragmented the self’s identity (personality) is, the more detached it becomes from its rootedness in its situation” (169). The narrator’s identity becomes entirely rooted within the chaos of her psychology: “One’s a’self encounter-/In lonesome Place-” (11-12). The “lonesome place,” the psyche, transforms into the setting of the poem as a locus of unilinear intersubjectivity, the place where the external self conflicts with the internal self. The “ourself behind ourself, concealed” (13), the repressed material, becomes the “Assassin hid in our apartment” (15), the return of the repressed, because of this acknowledgment of ego fragmentation. That the return of the repressed is an “Assassin” indicates the power of psychic reconfiguration, the rejection of a societal identity in favor of a personal identity. However, this rejection itself is rejected as “The Body” (17), the external self subject to the sociopolitical gaze, “borrows a Revolver” (17) and “bolts the Door” (18), protecting itself from the return of the repressed by perpetuating the repression. This ultimate rejection is complicated by qualifying the Assassin as a “superior spectre” (19), suggesting that a repressed identity is inferior, yet necessary within a social context, this context indicated by the “borrowing” of the Revolver.
Sarah Piatt’s “The Palace-Burner” deals with similar issues of social and personal identity, commencing with an appeal to the political sphere: “She has been burning palaces” (1). This female power, a power that transgresses masculine political institutions, is subsequently qualified by maternal identity, suggested by the voice of the narrator’s son, which initially supplants the female voice. This identification with the domestic sphere forces the narrator to remain external from the palace-burner, signifying the creation of a projection of the return of the repressed: “But women brave as she/Leave much for cowards, such as I, to guess” (3-4). The I, the identifier of narrative subjectivity, contrasts her own conformity to female agency, an agency coded masculine by the term brave. The second and third stanzas represent a temporal (“But this is old” (5)) and ideological (“And Christian men/Shot wicked little Communists, like you” (11-12) distance that permits the narrator to remain within the domestic sphere. However, the maternal, as an educative medium for children, must ultimately critically analyze sociopolitical institutions, causing the narrator to explicitly illustrate the conflict between assertion of the self and dominant constructs: “Have I not taught you to respect the laws?/ You would have burned the palace. Would not I?” (15-16). The I has, stimulated by the picture’s function as the return of the repressed, shifted into internal debate about the validity of political structures.
This parallels the notion that the return of the repressed has “a ‘liberating’ effect by allowing the individual to exercise a greater degree of choice over his or her future” (Schalow 169). This “liberation” is suggested by the narrator’s temporary rejection of the maternal sphere by telling her son “go to your play” (17), permitting her to withdraw into the transgressive implications of female political action. The traditional linguistic qualifiers of the female soul, a soul that is “languid and worldly, with a dainty need for light and music” (18-19), becomes complicated by an assertion of the personal self that, ironically, emerges directly from the maternal sphere. The maternal function of women is idealized at a “distance” (21), constructed by dominant sociopolitical institutions that fail to recognize the more “masculine” attributes of women, attributes that are ultimately repressed. The domestic sphere becomes a locus of ideological conflation, connecting the maternal to the political: “Can he have seen my soul?” (20, 24). This suggests that the return of the repressed offers “confrontation with one’s guilt” (Schalow 169), the narrator’s guilt dissolving due to the reconciliation of her maternal function and the deeper desires of her soul, reflected through the eyes of her son.
However, the return of the repressed, like at the end of “One need not be a chamber to be haunted,” seems to be ambiguously rejected, the external projection remaining separate from the narrator’s psyche: “The child has seen/ In this fierce creature of the Commune here,/So bright with bitterness and so serene,/A being finer than my soul, I fear” (32-35). Though continuing to conform to the sociopolitical gaze, her son’s gaze implicitly recognizes the “superior” potential of the palace-burner, suggesting a transgressive conflation of the maternal and political spheres.
In Anne Bradstreet’s “The Author to Her Book” these spheres are transgressed through poetic creation by the conflation of maternal qualifiers with the physical monstrosity of an externally projected return of the repressed. The “ill’form’d offspring,” the return of the repressed, is acknowledged as the product of the narrator’s “feeble brain” (1), the term feeble suggesting the sociopolitical construction of female intellect. The “offspring” is initially a private return of the repressed, a representation of the narrator’s poetic power that doesn’t evolve into a fully externally projected return of the repressed until it is exposed to “public view”: “Till snacht from thence by friends, less wise than true,/Who thee abroad expos’d to public view” (3-4). Unlike Dickinson and Piatt, Bradstreet continually recognizes her connection to the return of the repressed despite her subjection to the external sociopolitical gaze. This is indicated by her “blushing” (7), an expression of shame that confirms her transgressive agency in the construction of a personal poetic identity. Her self is fragmented as a result of this tension between poetic identity and maternal identity, producing a return of the repressed that intrinsically conflates the assumptions of both identities. These assumptions are also perpetually filtered through a masculine sociopolitical screen, corrupting the ideal maternal relationship.
Her “offspring” is a “rambling brat” (8) and “unfit for light” (9), suggesting that it should remain repressed. However, the return of the repressed has already occurred and the external gaze, because the “offspring” is disconnected from the paternal, will continue to criticize it: “In critic’s hands, beware thou dost not come,/And take thy way where yet thou art not known./If for thy father askt, say, thou hadst none” (20-22). The projection of the repressed material onto an external “Other” is complicated here because that “Other” is identified as “mine own” (11). The monstrosity of the “offspring,” though similar to that of Frankenstein’s monster, is not re-repressed, but ultimately de-repressed. The “flaws” (14) and “blemishes” (14), though reflecting the transgressive attributes of the personal self and the imperfection of the expression of the ego, are still appropriated by the maternal. This, however, is due to economic pressure, perhaps complicating the return of the repressed to a level similar to that in Dickinson and Piatt, though still contrasting: “And for thy mother, she alas is poor,/Which caus’d her thus to send thee out of door” (23-24). The narrator’s gender deviance, resulting in the poetic return of the repressed, is an unfortunate byproduct of economic disadvantage.
The assertion of a personal self is often inherently complicated by external social structures. These pressures may prompt the “return of the repressed,” a fragmentation of the self that differentiates internal desires from external expectations. This fragmentation, because the self is still subject to an external sociopolitical gaze, results in the projection of repressed material onto an “Other,” a symbol of the return of the repressed that is separated from the ideal self. Emily Dickinson’s “One need not be a chamber to be haunted” implicitly represents this process, utilizing the “External Ghost” as an embodiment of the female transgressive that corrupts domestic assumptions. This external projection, although “safer than in interior confronting,” is ultimately internalized as the “Assassin,” a component of the fragmented self that threatens to supplant the narrator’s “proper” identity. Although recognizing the Assassin as “superior” the narrator emphasizes repression as an inherent factor in social interaction. The rejection of the return of the repressed is also evident, and complicated, in Sarah Piatt’s “The Palace-Burner.” The return of the repressed, the picture, despite stimulating the narrator’s political conscience, subsequently fails to dissociate her from the domestic sphere. However, through the conflation of the domestic and political spheres, the gaze of the narrator’s son suggests the “superior” potential of female transgression. In Anne Bradstreet’s “The Author to Her Book” the maternal transforms into the locus of poetic assertion external from a traditional paternal narrative. The narrator’s poetic identity is, however, constantly constructed by dominant paternal structures, producing a return of the repressed that is the “ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain.” Unlike Dickinson and Piatt, Bradstreet’s rejection of the return of the repressed is subtle, her association with the external projection always intimate due to its status as “mine own.”
The article, by suggesting that Sean Hayes's performance as a heterosexual character is wooden because of his sexual identity, is interjecting sexual debate where it doesn't belong. Theatrical criticism is one thing, but suggesting that his pretending to be 'x' is skewed because of 'y' is ridiculous. There is little evidence that his sexual identity is the cause of his "wooden performance," which is, of course, ultimately an opinion anyways. Sexual identity and sexual politics seem to be Newsweek's main goals.
Actors generally aren't attacked when they fail at playing socioeconomically disadvantage characters because they are not socioeconomically disadvantaged; they are attacked in more general ways, as a bad actor, or for life distractions. Here, however, Sean Hayes is being directly criticized because of sexual identity. An "inability to relate" to a character can potentially be a problem, but is often offset by the attributes that make an actor an actor (an ability to transform their identity based on a role). There is no objective manner in which to measure the negative affects of personal identity on an actor's craft (especially implicit genetic traits; external traits, such as substance abuse, can be more explicitly analyzed), and therefore this argument against Sean Hayes is merely a way to create sexual debate and controversy as a means of publicity and sensational (in a sense) journalism. It unfortunately has created too much of a stir for no reason.
So, I will get off that topic (mostly because I feel my analysis rather inadequate), and I will fill some more space with another essay; this time it's one I wrote recently for an American poetry course. I've been focusing a lot on sexual orientation in this blog, but this essay also expresses my consciousness about gender, as it relates the repression of female identity:
Fragmentation and Return: The Projection of Female Transgression in Dickinson, Piatt, and Bradstreet
The “return of the repressed,” a psychosexual construct established by Sigmund Freud, represents the implications of attempting to assert a self in a world saturated with dominant sociopolitical assumptions. The “return” ultimately emerges from a compromise “between repressed material and repressing forces,” a consequence of “a relative failure of the repressing force” (Erwin 496) to regulate psychological expression. This “compromise” translates into a fragmentation of the self, an embodiment of a psychic conflict between repressed desires and social boundaries. Fragmentation is a mechanism through which to “covertly indulge a previously fended-off and prohibited gratification” (Erwin 496) by often “‘externalizing’ and ‘projecting’ these feelings ‘outward’” (Schalow 169). The “Other” that is constructed by this process symbolizes the “repressed” material, permitting the physical self, the component of the ego that is subject to an external sociopolitical gaze, to continue its feigned and complicated “proper” social existence.
Emily Dickinson, in “One need not be a chamber to be haunted” (563-564), utilizes an internalized “Other,” the “assassin,” to present the tensions of a fragmented self. This self implicitly recognizes the significance of projection and repression, its anxiety about the return of the repressed prompting it to bolt “the Door.” In Sarah Piatt’s “The Palace-Burner” (600-601) fragmentation of the female ego parallels a dichotomized conception of the political and domestic spheres. The “Picture in a Newspaper,” stimulating an internal debate about the societal function of the female, reflects the return of the repressed, the external projection that mediates an internal discourse. The return of the repressed fully materializes in Anne Bradstreet’s “The Author to Her Book” (46). The narrator, by perverting maternal qualifiers, represents the tensions of female artistic expression and the construction of female identity by masculine sociopolitical structures, illustrating her “ill-form’d offspring” as a projection of “improper” gender deviance. These poems suggest a fragmentation of the female self that emerges both from inherent psychological conditions, as in Dickinson, and from social implications, as in Piatt and Bradstreet
The narrator of “One need not be a chamber to be haunted” immediately excises her discourse from the domestic sphere, highlighting the universality of psychology: “One need not be a Chamber - to be haunted -/One need not be a House-/The brain has Corridors- surpassing/ Material Place-” (1-4). The “‘externalizing’ and ‘projecting’” (Schalow 169) central to the fragmentation of the self stimulated by the return of the repressed is then, after gender assumptions are erased, recognized: “Far safer, of a midnight meeting/External Ghost/Than it’s interior confronting” (5-7). The “External Ghost,” the projection of repressed material onto an “Other,” is “far safer” than a direct confrontation within the “interior,” the psyche. The “Ghost,” however, the internal psychology that transforms into supernatural externality, forces a return to the domestic sphere and gender ideology. In this way, the poem itself mirrors the process of the return of the repressed. This return of the repressed, because it is generated by gender complications, produces an external “Other” that corrupts traditional female space. This space becomes invisible as the psyche, now dislodged from a singular self, is populated by a multitude of selves, reflecting Frank Schalow’s contention that “the more fragmented the self’s identity (personality) is, the more detached it becomes from its rootedness in its situation” (169). The narrator’s identity becomes entirely rooted within the chaos of her psychology: “One’s a’self encounter-/In lonesome Place-” (11-12). The “lonesome place,” the psyche, transforms into the setting of the poem as a locus of unilinear intersubjectivity, the place where the external self conflicts with the internal self. The “ourself behind ourself, concealed” (13), the repressed material, becomes the “Assassin hid in our apartment” (15), the return of the repressed, because of this acknowledgment of ego fragmentation. That the return of the repressed is an “Assassin” indicates the power of psychic reconfiguration, the rejection of a societal identity in favor of a personal identity. However, this rejection itself is rejected as “The Body” (17), the external self subject to the sociopolitical gaze, “borrows a Revolver” (17) and “bolts the Door” (18), protecting itself from the return of the repressed by perpetuating the repression. This ultimate rejection is complicated by qualifying the Assassin as a “superior spectre” (19), suggesting that a repressed identity is inferior, yet necessary within a social context, this context indicated by the “borrowing” of the Revolver.
Sarah Piatt’s “The Palace-Burner” deals with similar issues of social and personal identity, commencing with an appeal to the political sphere: “She has been burning palaces” (1). This female power, a power that transgresses masculine political institutions, is subsequently qualified by maternal identity, suggested by the voice of the narrator’s son, which initially supplants the female voice. This identification with the domestic sphere forces the narrator to remain external from the palace-burner, signifying the creation of a projection of the return of the repressed: “But women brave as she/Leave much for cowards, such as I, to guess” (3-4). The I, the identifier of narrative subjectivity, contrasts her own conformity to female agency, an agency coded masculine by the term brave. The second and third stanzas represent a temporal (“But this is old” (5)) and ideological (“And Christian men/Shot wicked little Communists, like you” (11-12) distance that permits the narrator to remain within the domestic sphere. However, the maternal, as an educative medium for children, must ultimately critically analyze sociopolitical institutions, causing the narrator to explicitly illustrate the conflict between assertion of the self and dominant constructs: “Have I not taught you to respect the laws?/ You would have burned the palace. Would not I?” (15-16). The I has, stimulated by the picture’s function as the return of the repressed, shifted into internal debate about the validity of political structures.
This parallels the notion that the return of the repressed has “a ‘liberating’ effect by allowing the individual to exercise a greater degree of choice over his or her future” (Schalow 169). This “liberation” is suggested by the narrator’s temporary rejection of the maternal sphere by telling her son “go to your play” (17), permitting her to withdraw into the transgressive implications of female political action. The traditional linguistic qualifiers of the female soul, a soul that is “languid and worldly, with a dainty need for light and music” (18-19), becomes complicated by an assertion of the personal self that, ironically, emerges directly from the maternal sphere. The maternal function of women is idealized at a “distance” (21), constructed by dominant sociopolitical institutions that fail to recognize the more “masculine” attributes of women, attributes that are ultimately repressed. The domestic sphere becomes a locus of ideological conflation, connecting the maternal to the political: “Can he have seen my soul?” (20, 24). This suggests that the return of the repressed offers “confrontation with one’s guilt” (Schalow 169), the narrator’s guilt dissolving due to the reconciliation of her maternal function and the deeper desires of her soul, reflected through the eyes of her son.
However, the return of the repressed, like at the end of “One need not be a chamber to be haunted,” seems to be ambiguously rejected, the external projection remaining separate from the narrator’s psyche: “The child has seen/ In this fierce creature of the Commune here,/So bright with bitterness and so serene,/A being finer than my soul, I fear” (32-35). Though continuing to conform to the sociopolitical gaze, her son’s gaze implicitly recognizes the “superior” potential of the palace-burner, suggesting a transgressive conflation of the maternal and political spheres.
In Anne Bradstreet’s “The Author to Her Book” these spheres are transgressed through poetic creation by the conflation of maternal qualifiers with the physical monstrosity of an externally projected return of the repressed. The “ill’form’d offspring,” the return of the repressed, is acknowledged as the product of the narrator’s “feeble brain” (1), the term feeble suggesting the sociopolitical construction of female intellect. The “offspring” is initially a private return of the repressed, a representation of the narrator’s poetic power that doesn’t evolve into a fully externally projected return of the repressed until it is exposed to “public view”: “Till snacht from thence by friends, less wise than true,/Who thee abroad expos’d to public view” (3-4). Unlike Dickinson and Piatt, Bradstreet continually recognizes her connection to the return of the repressed despite her subjection to the external sociopolitical gaze. This is indicated by her “blushing” (7), an expression of shame that confirms her transgressive agency in the construction of a personal poetic identity. Her self is fragmented as a result of this tension between poetic identity and maternal identity, producing a return of the repressed that intrinsically conflates the assumptions of both identities. These assumptions are also perpetually filtered through a masculine sociopolitical screen, corrupting the ideal maternal relationship.
Her “offspring” is a “rambling brat” (8) and “unfit for light” (9), suggesting that it should remain repressed. However, the return of the repressed has already occurred and the external gaze, because the “offspring” is disconnected from the paternal, will continue to criticize it: “In critic’s hands, beware thou dost not come,/And take thy way where yet thou art not known./If for thy father askt, say, thou hadst none” (20-22). The projection of the repressed material onto an external “Other” is complicated here because that “Other” is identified as “mine own” (11). The monstrosity of the “offspring,” though similar to that of Frankenstein’s monster, is not re-repressed, but ultimately de-repressed. The “flaws” (14) and “blemishes” (14), though reflecting the transgressive attributes of the personal self and the imperfection of the expression of the ego, are still appropriated by the maternal. This, however, is due to economic pressure, perhaps complicating the return of the repressed to a level similar to that in Dickinson and Piatt, though still contrasting: “And for thy mother, she alas is poor,/Which caus’d her thus to send thee out of door” (23-24). The narrator’s gender deviance, resulting in the poetic return of the repressed, is an unfortunate byproduct of economic disadvantage.
The assertion of a personal self is often inherently complicated by external social structures. These pressures may prompt the “return of the repressed,” a fragmentation of the self that differentiates internal desires from external expectations. This fragmentation, because the self is still subject to an external sociopolitical gaze, results in the projection of repressed material onto an “Other,” a symbol of the return of the repressed that is separated from the ideal self. Emily Dickinson’s “One need not be a chamber to be haunted” implicitly represents this process, utilizing the “External Ghost” as an embodiment of the female transgressive that corrupts domestic assumptions. This external projection, although “safer than in interior confronting,” is ultimately internalized as the “Assassin,” a component of the fragmented self that threatens to supplant the narrator’s “proper” identity. Although recognizing the Assassin as “superior” the narrator emphasizes repression as an inherent factor in social interaction. The rejection of the return of the repressed is also evident, and complicated, in Sarah Piatt’s “The Palace-Burner.” The return of the repressed, the picture, despite stimulating the narrator’s political conscience, subsequently fails to dissociate her from the domestic sphere. However, through the conflation of the domestic and political spheres, the gaze of the narrator’s son suggests the “superior” potential of female transgression. In Anne Bradstreet’s “The Author to Her Book” the maternal transforms into the locus of poetic assertion external from a traditional paternal narrative. The narrator’s poetic identity is, however, constantly constructed by dominant paternal structures, producing a return of the repressed that is the “ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain.” Unlike Dickinson and Piatt, Bradstreet’s rejection of the return of the repressed is subtle, her association with the external projection always intimate due to its status as “mine own.”
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Laura Bush News; and House
I found an interesting story about Laura Bush today (which is very rare). I shouldn't say it's interesting, because it's basically a nonstory. "Women supports abortion and same-sex marriage!" I'm glad we don't have to have a news article for each of the millions of women for which that is true. This is only news, of course, because she is George Bush's wife.
The interesting part is that it does suggest some dissention in the primarily socially conservative Bush family. It also gives same-sex marriage an unlikely proponent. I rather enjoyed her statement, which was said better than I possibly could say it: "There are a lot of people who have trouble coming to terms with that because they see marriage as traditionally between a man and a woman. But I also know that, you know, when couples are committed to each other and love each other, that they ought to have, I think, the same sort of rights that everyone has."
Laura Bush is directly attacking the "traditional marriage" notion, and I give her praise for that. She also predicts a shift in the direction of full legalization of same-sex marriage. It probably takes at least a little bit of courage to say these things when you are stuck in very conservative circles most of the time. The fact that Laura Bush favors same-sex marriage or abortion means, ultimately, very little, but it's just nice to hear such things coming from an unlikely source.
Sort of related, everyone should watch one of the newer episodes of House, which centralizes issues of sexual identity:
I may actually analyze some of the issues that the episode raises, but that will have to wait until another day.
The interesting part is that it does suggest some dissention in the primarily socially conservative Bush family. It also gives same-sex marriage an unlikely proponent. I rather enjoyed her statement, which was said better than I possibly could say it: "There are a lot of people who have trouble coming to terms with that because they see marriage as traditionally between a man and a woman. But I also know that, you know, when couples are committed to each other and love each other, that they ought to have, I think, the same sort of rights that everyone has."
Laura Bush is directly attacking the "traditional marriage" notion, and I give her praise for that. She also predicts a shift in the direction of full legalization of same-sex marriage. It probably takes at least a little bit of courage to say these things when you are stuck in very conservative circles most of the time. The fact that Laura Bush favors same-sex marriage or abortion means, ultimately, very little, but it's just nice to hear such things coming from an unlikely source.
Sort of related, everyone should watch one of the newer episodes of House, which centralizes issues of sexual identity:
I may actually analyze some of the issues that the episode raises, but that will have to wait until another day.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Elena Kagan, and a Brief Revisiting of the California Elections
As should be known by this point, Elena Kagan has been chosen by President Barack Obama as the Supreme Court nominee to replace Justice John Paul Stevens. There are rumors that Elena Kagan is possibly a lesbian. First, these rumors are relatively groundless, and if she really is a lesbian, it would probably just be a coincidence. The rumors are (predominantly) based on her androgynous appearance. Physical and fashion cues are often (wrongly) utilized to construct sexual identity. It's convenient for opponents of both Obama and same-sex marriage to conflate the ideas and assume their manifestation in one individual, simply because they are more androgynous than the normal person (and therefore transform into a sexual Other).
Case and point, this article about the National Organization for Marriage, an anti-gay organization (although they would just call themselves a "pro traditional marriage" organization, to be fair). Kagan, who, in public, seems to be against a federal solution to same-sex marriage, is now enemy number one for the anti-gay movement. Why? This article suggests that the National Organization for Marriage has some sort of secret information. I'm not sure if that is meant to be satirical or not, but it should be. That secret information is almost certainly the rumors that she is a lesbian, and nothing more.
This is a terrible distortion of politics through a sexual agenda. It's one thing to oppose something. It's another to conflate the things you oppose to make something seem scarier, creating a falsity that skews the voting constituency.
These types of sexual politics and sexual sexual sensationalism bring me back to the California elections. Reading through the candidate statements, I came across a little-known Republican candidate for governor, Douglas R. Hughes. Whereas most candidates begin their statement with a broad and ideal portrait of their policies, agenda, or themselves, Hughes immediately delves into what he calls on his website his "number one promise": "As your governor, I will ensure all pedophiles will leave the States or volunteer to live confined to Santa Rosa Island, at no cost to Californians, as they will have their own self-supporting village, away from children." This is, of course, literally a form of very apparent segregation.
It is also an extremely narrow agenda, one that takes a rather radical position on one issue. I am afraid it may not, however, be perceived as radical. Hughes may be a smart person. He knows what gets people angry, and what one political tool he can use to get some votes: child rape. Most people agree that child rape is a bad thing. Some of those people will then make the same connection Hughes made, to segregation, or worse. This is, unfortunately, not at all a nuanced position; it would also be extremely problematic: how do you find the pedophiles? Sex offender registries are an easy way. However, that means you have to wait for the person to actually commit an act of pedophilia, and then wait for them to get out of prison (unless he proposes to send them to his "island" immediately).
But, isn't the point to prevent pedophilia? Is a pedophile witch hunt going to emerge? This is way too problematic and potentially dangerous. People will still vote for him based on this issue; sexual sensationalism has the power to stifle reason and logic for more willy nilly and vile approaches. I'm curious to see how he does during the primaries.
And, as for the primaries, please make sure, wherever you are in the United States, that you vote! And even if you don't like in the United States, make sure you always vote when you have the chance!
Case and point, this article about the National Organization for Marriage, an anti-gay organization (although they would just call themselves a "pro traditional marriage" organization, to be fair). Kagan, who, in public, seems to be against a federal solution to same-sex marriage, is now enemy number one for the anti-gay movement. Why? This article suggests that the National Organization for Marriage has some sort of secret information. I'm not sure if that is meant to be satirical or not, but it should be. That secret information is almost certainly the rumors that she is a lesbian, and nothing more.
This is a terrible distortion of politics through a sexual agenda. It's one thing to oppose something. It's another to conflate the things you oppose to make something seem scarier, creating a falsity that skews the voting constituency.
These types of sexual politics and sexual sexual sensationalism bring me back to the California elections. Reading through the candidate statements, I came across a little-known Republican candidate for governor, Douglas R. Hughes. Whereas most candidates begin their statement with a broad and ideal portrait of their policies, agenda, or themselves, Hughes immediately delves into what he calls on his website his "number one promise": "As your governor, I will ensure all pedophiles will leave the States or volunteer to live confined to Santa Rosa Island, at no cost to Californians, as they will have their own self-supporting village, away from children." This is, of course, literally a form of very apparent segregation.
It is also an extremely narrow agenda, one that takes a rather radical position on one issue. I am afraid it may not, however, be perceived as radical. Hughes may be a smart person. He knows what gets people angry, and what one political tool he can use to get some votes: child rape. Most people agree that child rape is a bad thing. Some of those people will then make the same connection Hughes made, to segregation, or worse. This is, unfortunately, not at all a nuanced position; it would also be extremely problematic: how do you find the pedophiles? Sex offender registries are an easy way. However, that means you have to wait for the person to actually commit an act of pedophilia, and then wait for them to get out of prison (unless he proposes to send them to his "island" immediately).
But, isn't the point to prevent pedophilia? Is a pedophile witch hunt going to emerge? This is way too problematic and potentially dangerous. People will still vote for him based on this issue; sexual sensationalism has the power to stifle reason and logic for more willy nilly and vile approaches. I'm curious to see how he does during the primaries.
And, as for the primaries, please make sure, wherever you are in the United States, that you vote! And even if you don't like in the United States, make sure you always vote when you have the chance!
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Random Update
Although I don't really have many (or any) people following, I still feel committed to posting regular updates. Mostly because I usually start a lot of things and never follow through with any, and I want to change that. I was rather disconnected from the news this weekend, however, so haven't seen or heard any articles relevant to this blog.
A lot of my weekend was spent trying to make sense out of the California propositions that will be on the ballot in June. Even making heads or tails of the candidates is rather draining. It seems more complicated than it should. The pros and cons are both appealing. I like to try to make the most informed decision I can, but it sadly takes too much work and time. Which is one reason we have an uneducated voting populace.
All of the propositions are either rather narrow or are more logistical in nature. Proposition 14, which proposes to change the way that primaries, and by extension, general elections, function is intriguing, but it seems to utilize political hysteria in a gratuitous manner. People are (often wrongfully) concerned with "partisan politics," and so propose a lot of outlandish solutions that would just be a new partisan replacement for current partisan politics. Prop 14 seems to attempt to do that. Allowing everyone to vote for every candidate doesn't equalize the field for third parties, it just allows politicians to be dishonest, and possibly facilitates a lack of choice.
I am particularly disheartened that we don't have any proposition relating to same-sex marriage (especially one relating to overturning Proposition 8). We do have a lot of candidates that have expressed deep concern with Prop 8, like Jerry Brown and Gavin Newsom. Hopefully we can get a few of them in office, and hopefully they will follow through on their promises (this is doubtable, however; even promises said with great conviction sometimes, and often in politics, falter). But everyone knew that already. And it's late, so I think I'll just end this post. Just wanted to make sure I kept it updated.
I'll try to post my usual commentary on a news article tomorrow.
A lot of my weekend was spent trying to make sense out of the California propositions that will be on the ballot in June. Even making heads or tails of the candidates is rather draining. It seems more complicated than it should. The pros and cons are both appealing. I like to try to make the most informed decision I can, but it sadly takes too much work and time. Which is one reason we have an uneducated voting populace.
All of the propositions are either rather narrow or are more logistical in nature. Proposition 14, which proposes to change the way that primaries, and by extension, general elections, function is intriguing, but it seems to utilize political hysteria in a gratuitous manner. People are (often wrongfully) concerned with "partisan politics," and so propose a lot of outlandish solutions that would just be a new partisan replacement for current partisan politics. Prop 14 seems to attempt to do that. Allowing everyone to vote for every candidate doesn't equalize the field for third parties, it just allows politicians to be dishonest, and possibly facilitates a lack of choice.
I am particularly disheartened that we don't have any proposition relating to same-sex marriage (especially one relating to overturning Proposition 8). We do have a lot of candidates that have expressed deep concern with Prop 8, like Jerry Brown and Gavin Newsom. Hopefully we can get a few of them in office, and hopefully they will follow through on their promises (this is doubtable, however; even promises said with great conviction sometimes, and often in politics, falter). But everyone knew that already. And it's late, so I think I'll just end this post. Just wanted to make sure I kept it updated.
I'll try to post my usual commentary on a news article tomorrow.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Anti-Gay Homosexuality, and an Essay
First, I just want to briefly allude to an article on the Huffington Post that details the potentially (and most likely) homosexual activities of Alvin McEwan, a central name in some anti-gay circles. This story is, however, exceptionally mundane because, as Ted Haggard and Larry Craig exemplify, this sort of thing happens all the time.
The response is, regardless, always extremely interesting. McEwan's defense shifted from being that he was unaware of "Lucien's," the "rent boy" he hired, profession, and that he only hired him in order to help him carry luggage, to being that he wanted to utilize a rent boy during a talk about the monstrosity of homosexuality, and the potential of "recovering" from a homosexual lifestyle. I, probably like most people, don't believe that for a second (again, reflecting the Ted Haggard and Larry Craig situations). I look forward to the awkward public statement that surely will follow.
I'd like to take this time, then, to do something slightly egotistic, but I do think it relates (and it also performs one of the functions that this blog is supposed to serve, essays about sexual identity and literary analyses). I'd like to post an essay that I wrote in November 2008 for a Gothic Literature and the History of Sexuality Class. The topics, sexual repression, the homosexual return of the repressed, and the "monstrosity" of homosexuality, all relate to this issue, and I think it's a good way to demonstrate the interconnection between literary analysis and real-world issues. I haven't edited the essay since I wrote it, so it's a little clunky and grammatically tedious (my style and ability to write essays have improved since then), so I apologize.
The Monstrosity of Homosexual Desire as Reflected by Institutional Constraints
In both Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde and Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein dualism is utilized to present the implications of a latent identity. This repressed identity is characterized by bodily monstrosity, establishing the notion that “by focusing upon the body as the locus of fear, Shelley’s [as well as Stevenson’s] novel suggests that it is people (or at least bodies) who terrify people” (Halberstam 28). In these novels “the architecture of fear...is replaced by physiognomy” (Halberstam 28-29), a fear authorized by political and familial institutions. These institutions, repressing the individual, produce a dichotomization of identity that emphasizes a stifled sexuality “that is in some respects located in a desire to excise female influence from male life” (Heilmann 375), and therefore embodies a system of male homosexual desire. Dr. Jekyll, in his relationship with his alter-ego, conceals his sexuality from the homophobia inherent in Mr. Utterson’s character, concluding in a sexual fury that is intensified by physical ugliness. Victor Frankenstein, in disconnecting himself from traditional familial structure, threatens to destroy the basis of the family, creating a “monster” that combines the political and social pressures on him with his own homosexual desires.
Throughout Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde instances of embarrassment and secrecy allude to an ‘unspeakable’ association between the two eponymous characters. When first confronted by Mr. Utterson at Dr. Jekyll’s home “Mr Hyde shrank back with a hissing intake of the breath. But his fear was only momentary” (18). Two important points of view are established here: Hyde’s fear of discovery and Utterson’s characterization of monstrosity, illustrated by Hyde’s hissing. This differentiates the tensions involved in the narrative: the repression of identity, in this case homosexuality, and the homophobic attitude that causes it. This homophobia, as the dominant social structure, explicitly defines homosexuality as an abomination, both in this novel and Frankenstein, producing Mr. Hyde and Frankenstein’s monster. Hyde, as observed by this societal homophobia, conforms to homosexual monstrosity, Utterson depicting him as giving “an impression of deformity without any nameable malformation” (19). Although “pale and dwarfish” (19), the source of deformity is not connected to a physical malformation. He “seems hardly human” and “troglodytic” (19) as defined by some fundamental internal attribute that Utterson terms “Satan’s signature” (19), and that can be understood as homosexuality itself.
The secrecy of Jekyll and Hyde’s relationship, portrayed when Poole states “’O, dear no, sir. He never dines here…Indeed we see very little of him on this side of the house; he mostly comes and goes by the laboratory’” (20), leads Utterson to his suspicion, a suspicion based in part on the “criminal anthropology of the 1890s…[which] made essential connections between outward appearance and inward essence” (Halberstam 41). Hyde’s physical characteristics, although not the definitive locus of his deformity, do indicate to Utterson a criminality that is associated with homosexual intent. Utterson’s fear for Jekyll is manifested in the notion “that while the ‘paranoid Gothic’ is sustained on one level by a fear of sexuality between men, it also evinces a belief in the fixity of social relations and positions” (Halberstam 44). When Doctor Lanyon, in the homophobic role also inhabited by Utterson, illustrates Hyde as “dressed in a fashion that would have made an ordinary person laughable: his clothes, that is to say, although they were of rich and sober fabric, were enormously too large for him in every measurement” (56), the reader is aware that these clothes are Jekyll’s, hinting at an intimacy signified by the exchanging of clothing, and therefore suggesting the fear of sexuality between men. However, Lanyon then muses “as to his [Hyde’s] origin, his life, his fortune and statue in the world” (57), utilizing social structure as a means to measure Hyde’s worthiness of a romantic relationship with Jekyll.
Utterson himself recognizes “the ghost of some old sin, the cancer of some concealed disgrace” (20), perhaps demonstrating his apprehension of Jekyll’s homosexuality. What Utterson does not realize is that it is not Jekyll’s decision for it to be a concealed disgrace, but a necessity based on the institutional pressures expressed by Utterson, the very pressures that forced it to mutate into a cancer, a notion that alludes to both monstrosity and the vengeful demeanor of the return of the repressed. With this recognition Utterson states: “it turns me cold to think of this creature stealing like a thief to Harry’s bedside” (21). This again delineates Hyde in terms of criminality and homosexuality, since he is like a thief when he is at Jekyll’s bed, suggesting that their relationship is threatening to Jekyll. Utterson believes that Jekyll is innocent, only haunted by some old sin, but that Hyde is actively malicious, controlled by dark secrets. This is absurd, since both Jekyll and Hyde are ultimately revealed as fragments of one individual.
In this manner “the Gothic monster is an excellent example of the secret of sexuality that is both hidden and revealed within the same text” (Halberstam 42). The monster embodies the effects of repression as well as the return of the repressed by stratifying identity into its constituent parts. Because of this, Utterson dissociates Jekyll into his innocence (the repressed Jekyll) and his unspeakable sexuality (Hyde, the embodiment of the return of the repressed). The monster itself is the expression of sexuality, or, as Judith Halberstam defines it, “an example of the way that sexuality is constructed as identity in a way that ignores all other identifying traits” (42). Hyde is Jekyll’s sexuality, a sexuality that formed against societal limitations, and therefore an ignorantly violent sexuality that tramples children. Such sacrifices of children (the product of heterosexual unions) by the “monster” will also be subsequently discussed in the context of Frankenstein as a function of homosexuality’s revenge against the limitations of political and familial institutions. This violence is inherent in the return of the repressed, a return obvious in the notion that Jekyll’s monster “lay caged in his flesh, where he heard it mutter and felt it struggle to be born” (75). Jekyll gives birth to this child, a child caged by the dominant institutions that cause Jekyll’s struggle with his own sexuality, a sexuality that is “knit to him closer than a wife (74-75), suggesting that this monster of homosexual desire is an inherent feature of Jekyll that displaces the necessity of females and female reproduction, substituting a “’dark desire to reproduce without the other’” (Halberstam 29).
The notion of repressed identity, with an emphasis on sexuality, or as Judith Halberstam describes, that “it is identity itself which is buried alive, or rather which is figured as live burial” (35), is prominent in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. However, unlike in Stevenson’s novel where homosexuality was subject to social pressures, in Frankenstein the limiting factor is usually familial. The ultimate cause of Victor’s repression is, indeed, a sense of obligation that is apparent when he states: “my mother was dead, but we had still duties which we ought to perform” (25). These duties are his promise to marry his cousin and therefore solidify the bonds of his family. However, he becomes distracted by scientific inquiry, asking “whence…did the principle of life proceed?” (30), a question concerned with both universal origins and sexual origins. This interest in origins, perhaps formed by the “desire to excise female influence from male life” (Heilmann 375), is an early indication of Victor’s homosexuality and his rejection of the traditional structure of the family. The simple answer to his question of where life comes from is, from a Christian point of view, God, or from a more scientific point of view, the female body. Victor is subsequently presented as a counterfeit God, but his discourse is more heavily invested in replacing the functions of the female body and traditional family, not divine power.
Victor’s creation of the monster is illustrated in terms that compare it to female reproduction, especially in that there is “so much time spent in painful labour” (31). This process of birth, although painful to Victor, also evokes emotions of “delight and rapture” (31) which may be due to the elation at his own ability to mimic female reproduction and therefore make females obsolete. Despite Victor’s delight, he is reminded that he is violating the traditional arrangement of domestic and familial institutions when his mind turns to his father, stating: “I knew well therefore what would be my father’s feelings” (33). This fear of paternal rejection will, however, in the passion of this moment, succumb to his desire of creation and perverse companionship, although he recognizes that “a human being in perfection ought always to preserve a calm and peaceful mind, and never to allow passion or a transitory desire to disturb his tranquility” (33), a notion originating in social expectations that condemn his transgressive passion. He is, although pressured by paternal limitations, able to overcome the tension and commit his act of creation that will mark him with “Satan’s signature”.
The moment of creation is intimately set in Victor’s laboratory, where “the rain pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out” (34). Since the laboratory is where Victor has spent most of his days, this nighttime encounter can also be identified as an erotically charged bed scene between Victor and his monster, inaugurating the expression of Victor’s homosexual desire. He renders an antithetical image of his creation by stating that “his yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the same colour as the dun white sockets in which they were set, his shriveled complexion, and straight black lips” (34). The monster is a pastiche of physical deformity mapped onto beauty. He has lustrous hair and pearly white teeth that contrast to his watery eyes and black lips. These conflicting characteristics reflect Victor’s internal struggle between his homosexual desire and the institutional pressures that are preventing it, expressing it in a monstrous form with skin that “scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath,” a transparency that mirrors Victor’s recognition of his sexuality. This transparency arises from the fact that the creation itself is an expression of homosexuality, and he is now directly facing his sexuality in that “the endeavor of Frankenstein to first create life on his own…suggests, if only be default, a homoerotic tension which underlies the incestuous bond” (Halberstam 42).
Victor remarks that the monster was ugly “while unfinished,” but that “when those muscles and joints were rendered capable of motion, it became a thing such as even Dante could not have conceived” (35). The ugliness of being unfinished suggests his personal struggle due to his unexpressed sexuality, but that, when that sexuality is capable of motion¸ or has been expressed, a full recognition of his perversion occurs.
This intimate moment between creator and creation is interrupted by Clerval, the representative of heteronormative friendships whose “presence brought back to my thoughts my father, Elizabeth, and all those scenes of home so dear to my recollection” (36). Clerval reminds Victor of his social and familial obligations, forcing him to reject the transgressive desire that he has just accepted. Like Dr. Jekyll, Victor fears discovery, searching his room “as children are accustomed to do when they expect a spectre to stand in waiting for them on the other side” (37) before he admits Clerval in. This specter is the homosexuality that Victor will now conceal just as ardently as he created it. However, Victor has already emancipated the monster and it is permitted to run its course of destruction, exterminating all of Victor’s associations with the heteronormative family. This commences with the murder of William, after which Victor sees the monster’s “gigantic stature, and the deformity of its aspect, more hideous than belongs to humanity, [which] instantly informed me that it was the wretch, the filthy daemon to whom I had given life” (48). His characterization of the monster as a wretch and a filthy demon suggests the extent of his rejection of the monster, or a denial in the face of this deformity. Victor recognizes that “nothing in human shape could have destroyed that fair child. He [the monster] was the murderer!” (48). The monster, a creature without a human shape, is a symbol for a homosexuality that is consuming the child, the product of heterosexual unions, just as Hyde trampled on the girl. Victor emphasizes that he is the monster, indicating both himself and his creation as part of a stratified identity, one that is repressing itself and the other that is exacting vengeance on the institutional pressures that restrain it.
The next victim is Justine when she is executed for the murder of William. She is not intentionally murdered by the homosexuality that the monster represents, but is a sacrifice to political institutions based on the structure of class relations. These political institutions, based on a male hierarchy embodied in Victor’s father as well as the judge, do not acknowledge homosexuality in their social system and therefore condemn a scapegoat, a servant of lower class. Victor, however, ascertains that he is “the true murderer” (57) of both William and Justine, again associating himself with his creation. Victor comprehends that he should explain his story and save Justine, but, because he is closeted, he rationalizes that those political institutions will not believe him, which he may be right about. He begins to live in perpetual fear “lest the monster whom I had created should perpetrate some new wickedness” (60), emphasizing his inability to control the return of the repressed and his increasingly bitter attitude towards his sexuality. His “abhorrence of this fiend cannot be conceived” (60), indicating that he, like the institutions that originally repressed him, now scorns his sexuality and desires to conform to social conventions, a desire to remain repressed.
The narrative of the monster while at the De Lacey’s cottage also underscores this struggle to conform to social conventions. The monster, homosexual desire itself, is confronted with a family that, despite being traditionally heteronormative, is itself oppressed due to class relations. This leads the monster to anticipate the potential for him to be integrated into this family structure, despite the fact that the elderly, children, and women have all previously rejected him (70). After spying on the family, the monster “discovered the names that were given to some of the most familiar objects of discourse: I learned and applied the words fire, milk, bread, and wood” (75), symbolizing his indoctrination into domestic life. He then learns that “the youth and his companion had each of them several names, but the old man had only one, which was father. The girl was called sister, or Agatha; and the youth Felix, brother, or son” (75). He, along with ascertaining language, is constructing his conception of the relationships involved in the traditional heterosexual family, a familial structure that he understands he is adverse to. Safie, although an “other” like the monster, is heterosexual and easily incorporated into this structure.
The monster’s only refuge is the blind man, the individual able to transcend the social implications of sexuality and accept the physical and internal deformity of the creature. But “at that instant the cottage door was opened, and Felix, Safie, and Agatha entered…Agatha fainted; and Safie, unable to attend to her friend, rushed from the cottage. Felix darted forward, and with supernatural force tore me from his father” (91). The traditional family will always extract this monstrosity, casting it away with violence, therefore provoking the rage involved in the return of the repressed. This return is suggested when the monster “lighted the dry branch of a tree, and danced with fury around the devoted cottage, my eyes still fixed on the western horizon, the edge of which the moon nearly touched…The wind fanned the fire, and the cottage was quickly enveloped by the flames, which clung to it, and licked it with their forked and destroying tongues” (94), demolishing the home, the essential unit of the traditional family, a family that is, in Victor’s society, predominantly heteronormative. After the spatial unit of the family is eradicated, the monster can specifically destroy each member of this institution, the child and servant as previously, and now the wife and father.
Alphonse Frankenstein explicitly defines Victor and Elizabeth’s marriage “as the tie of our domestic comfort, and the stay of my declining years” (104). It is the unification of the family into a domestic unit that invigorates the father, the representative of a sociopolitical structure confined to heteronormativity. This union is, however, haunted from its inception by the monster’s promise: “’I shall be with you on your wedding night’” (116). The suggestion is that the monster, if understood as homosexuality itself, will dilute the significance of heterosexual marriage because Victor is, although permitting his sexuality to be repressed, still definitively controlled by homosexual desire. The promise is fulfilled, and Victor relates “the destruction of the best hope, and the purest creature of earth. She was there, lifeless and inatimate, thrown across the bed, her head hanging down, and her pale and distorted features half covered by her hair” (135). Elizabeth’s death is on her bridal bed as she discovers the dissolution of familial and domestic bonds because of sexual “perversity” rather than the children that her heteronormative marriage was supposed to produce. Victor sees “a grin…on the face of the monster; he seemed to jeer, as with his fiendish finger he pointed towards the corpse of my wife” (136); the monster is emphasizing Victor’s sexuality, pointing to the figure of the dead wife, a figure symbolizing a coldness towards heterosexual relationships that will always negatively affect the female. The monster is defining Victor as a homosexual, and therefore Alphonse Frankenstein must also die, signifying the disintegration of political institutions and the paternal in the face of homosexual desire.
Monstrosity is utilized in Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde and Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein to suggest a dualism of sexual identity that is constructed by the repression inherent in social, political, and familial institutions. The monster itself can be understood as the violent return of the repressed or the mechanism of revenge against traditional institutions. In Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde a social homophobia predominantly constrains Jekyll, stimulating his fear of discovery. At the same time Mr Hyde, embodying the homosexual desire extracted from Jekyll, is permitted to evoke his sexual fury, trampling over a girl, suggesting a transgression against the traditional family. This is taken farther in Frankenstein where the monster, the homosexual desire of Victor, pledges to obliterate all members of the traditional family structure. Victor becomes increasingly hateful towards the monster, and therefore his sexuality, choosing to accept societal conventions and repress his own identity. However, by this time the monster has already been unleashed, directly or indirectly murdering: William, the product of heterosexual unions, Justine, the servant of traditional domestic structure, Clerval, the heteronormative friend, Elizabeth, the heteronormative wife, and Alphonse, the paternal figure representing political and social institutions. Victor’s identity struggle against institutional pressures is illustrated in the monster’s narrative, depicting his stay at the De Lacey’s cottage. This traditional family is, in the end, unable to accept the monster’s sexuality, and casts him away as a social deformity. This is the ultimate catalyst of the monster’s destruction of the family, beginning with the burning of the home itself, the spatial unit of traditional family structure.
Works Cited
Halberstam, Judith. Skin Shows: Gothic Horror and the Technology of Monsters. Duke University Press, 1995.
Heilmann, Ann and Mark Llewellyn. “What Kitty Knew: George Moore's John Norton, Multiple
Personality, and the Psychopathology of Late-Victorian Sex Crime.” Nineteenth-Century
Literature. 59.3 (2004): 372-403. JSTOR. University of California, Riverside, Thomas
Rivera Lib. 26 November 2008
Shelley, Mary. Frankenstein. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, Inc., 1996.
The response is, regardless, always extremely interesting. McEwan's defense shifted from being that he was unaware of "Lucien's," the "rent boy" he hired, profession, and that he only hired him in order to help him carry luggage, to being that he wanted to utilize a rent boy during a talk about the monstrosity of homosexuality, and the potential of "recovering" from a homosexual lifestyle. I, probably like most people, don't believe that for a second (again, reflecting the Ted Haggard and Larry Craig situations). I look forward to the awkward public statement that surely will follow.
I'd like to take this time, then, to do something slightly egotistic, but I do think it relates (and it also performs one of the functions that this blog is supposed to serve, essays about sexual identity and literary analyses). I'd like to post an essay that I wrote in November 2008 for a Gothic Literature and the History of Sexuality Class. The topics, sexual repression, the homosexual return of the repressed, and the "monstrosity" of homosexuality, all relate to this issue, and I think it's a good way to demonstrate the interconnection between literary analysis and real-world issues. I haven't edited the essay since I wrote it, so it's a little clunky and grammatically tedious (my style and ability to write essays have improved since then), so I apologize.
The Monstrosity of Homosexual Desire as Reflected by Institutional Constraints
In both Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde and Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein dualism is utilized to present the implications of a latent identity. This repressed identity is characterized by bodily monstrosity, establishing the notion that “by focusing upon the body as the locus of fear, Shelley’s [as well as Stevenson’s] novel suggests that it is people (or at least bodies) who terrify people” (Halberstam 28). In these novels “the architecture of fear...is replaced by physiognomy” (Halberstam 28-29), a fear authorized by political and familial institutions. These institutions, repressing the individual, produce a dichotomization of identity that emphasizes a stifled sexuality “that is in some respects located in a desire to excise female influence from male life” (Heilmann 375), and therefore embodies a system of male homosexual desire. Dr. Jekyll, in his relationship with his alter-ego, conceals his sexuality from the homophobia inherent in Mr. Utterson’s character, concluding in a sexual fury that is intensified by physical ugliness. Victor Frankenstein, in disconnecting himself from traditional familial structure, threatens to destroy the basis of the family, creating a “monster” that combines the political and social pressures on him with his own homosexual desires.
Throughout Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde instances of embarrassment and secrecy allude to an ‘unspeakable’ association between the two eponymous characters. When first confronted by Mr. Utterson at Dr. Jekyll’s home “Mr Hyde shrank back with a hissing intake of the breath. But his fear was only momentary” (18). Two important points of view are established here: Hyde’s fear of discovery and Utterson’s characterization of monstrosity, illustrated by Hyde’s hissing. This differentiates the tensions involved in the narrative: the repression of identity, in this case homosexuality, and the homophobic attitude that causes it. This homophobia, as the dominant social structure, explicitly defines homosexuality as an abomination, both in this novel and Frankenstein, producing Mr. Hyde and Frankenstein’s monster. Hyde, as observed by this societal homophobia, conforms to homosexual monstrosity, Utterson depicting him as giving “an impression of deformity without any nameable malformation” (19). Although “pale and dwarfish” (19), the source of deformity is not connected to a physical malformation. He “seems hardly human” and “troglodytic” (19) as defined by some fundamental internal attribute that Utterson terms “Satan’s signature” (19), and that can be understood as homosexuality itself.
The secrecy of Jekyll and Hyde’s relationship, portrayed when Poole states “’O, dear no, sir. He never dines here…Indeed we see very little of him on this side of the house; he mostly comes and goes by the laboratory’” (20), leads Utterson to his suspicion, a suspicion based in part on the “criminal anthropology of the 1890s…[which] made essential connections between outward appearance and inward essence” (Halberstam 41). Hyde’s physical characteristics, although not the definitive locus of his deformity, do indicate to Utterson a criminality that is associated with homosexual intent. Utterson’s fear for Jekyll is manifested in the notion “that while the ‘paranoid Gothic’ is sustained on one level by a fear of sexuality between men, it also evinces a belief in the fixity of social relations and positions” (Halberstam 44). When Doctor Lanyon, in the homophobic role also inhabited by Utterson, illustrates Hyde as “dressed in a fashion that would have made an ordinary person laughable: his clothes, that is to say, although they were of rich and sober fabric, were enormously too large for him in every measurement” (56), the reader is aware that these clothes are Jekyll’s, hinting at an intimacy signified by the exchanging of clothing, and therefore suggesting the fear of sexuality between men. However, Lanyon then muses “as to his [Hyde’s] origin, his life, his fortune and statue in the world” (57), utilizing social structure as a means to measure Hyde’s worthiness of a romantic relationship with Jekyll.
Utterson himself recognizes “the ghost of some old sin, the cancer of some concealed disgrace” (20), perhaps demonstrating his apprehension of Jekyll’s homosexuality. What Utterson does not realize is that it is not Jekyll’s decision for it to be a concealed disgrace, but a necessity based on the institutional pressures expressed by Utterson, the very pressures that forced it to mutate into a cancer, a notion that alludes to both monstrosity and the vengeful demeanor of the return of the repressed. With this recognition Utterson states: “it turns me cold to think of this creature stealing like a thief to Harry’s bedside” (21). This again delineates Hyde in terms of criminality and homosexuality, since he is like a thief when he is at Jekyll’s bed, suggesting that their relationship is threatening to Jekyll. Utterson believes that Jekyll is innocent, only haunted by some old sin, but that Hyde is actively malicious, controlled by dark secrets. This is absurd, since both Jekyll and Hyde are ultimately revealed as fragments of one individual.
In this manner “the Gothic monster is an excellent example of the secret of sexuality that is both hidden and revealed within the same text” (Halberstam 42). The monster embodies the effects of repression as well as the return of the repressed by stratifying identity into its constituent parts. Because of this, Utterson dissociates Jekyll into his innocence (the repressed Jekyll) and his unspeakable sexuality (Hyde, the embodiment of the return of the repressed). The monster itself is the expression of sexuality, or, as Judith Halberstam defines it, “an example of the way that sexuality is constructed as identity in a way that ignores all other identifying traits” (42). Hyde is Jekyll’s sexuality, a sexuality that formed against societal limitations, and therefore an ignorantly violent sexuality that tramples children. Such sacrifices of children (the product of heterosexual unions) by the “monster” will also be subsequently discussed in the context of Frankenstein as a function of homosexuality’s revenge against the limitations of political and familial institutions. This violence is inherent in the return of the repressed, a return obvious in the notion that Jekyll’s monster “lay caged in his flesh, where he heard it mutter and felt it struggle to be born” (75). Jekyll gives birth to this child, a child caged by the dominant institutions that cause Jekyll’s struggle with his own sexuality, a sexuality that is “knit to him closer than a wife (74-75), suggesting that this monster of homosexual desire is an inherent feature of Jekyll that displaces the necessity of females and female reproduction, substituting a “’dark desire to reproduce without the other’” (Halberstam 29).
The notion of repressed identity, with an emphasis on sexuality, or as Judith Halberstam describes, that “it is identity itself which is buried alive, or rather which is figured as live burial” (35), is prominent in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. However, unlike in Stevenson’s novel where homosexuality was subject to social pressures, in Frankenstein the limiting factor is usually familial. The ultimate cause of Victor’s repression is, indeed, a sense of obligation that is apparent when he states: “my mother was dead, but we had still duties which we ought to perform” (25). These duties are his promise to marry his cousin and therefore solidify the bonds of his family. However, he becomes distracted by scientific inquiry, asking “whence…did the principle of life proceed?” (30), a question concerned with both universal origins and sexual origins. This interest in origins, perhaps formed by the “desire to excise female influence from male life” (Heilmann 375), is an early indication of Victor’s homosexuality and his rejection of the traditional structure of the family. The simple answer to his question of where life comes from is, from a Christian point of view, God, or from a more scientific point of view, the female body. Victor is subsequently presented as a counterfeit God, but his discourse is more heavily invested in replacing the functions of the female body and traditional family, not divine power.
Victor’s creation of the monster is illustrated in terms that compare it to female reproduction, especially in that there is “so much time spent in painful labour” (31). This process of birth, although painful to Victor, also evokes emotions of “delight and rapture” (31) which may be due to the elation at his own ability to mimic female reproduction and therefore make females obsolete. Despite Victor’s delight, he is reminded that he is violating the traditional arrangement of domestic and familial institutions when his mind turns to his father, stating: “I knew well therefore what would be my father’s feelings” (33). This fear of paternal rejection will, however, in the passion of this moment, succumb to his desire of creation and perverse companionship, although he recognizes that “a human being in perfection ought always to preserve a calm and peaceful mind, and never to allow passion or a transitory desire to disturb his tranquility” (33), a notion originating in social expectations that condemn his transgressive passion. He is, although pressured by paternal limitations, able to overcome the tension and commit his act of creation that will mark him with “Satan’s signature”.
The moment of creation is intimately set in Victor’s laboratory, where “the rain pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out” (34). Since the laboratory is where Victor has spent most of his days, this nighttime encounter can also be identified as an erotically charged bed scene between Victor and his monster, inaugurating the expression of Victor’s homosexual desire. He renders an antithetical image of his creation by stating that “his yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that seemed almost of the same colour as the dun white sockets in which they were set, his shriveled complexion, and straight black lips” (34). The monster is a pastiche of physical deformity mapped onto beauty. He has lustrous hair and pearly white teeth that contrast to his watery eyes and black lips. These conflicting characteristics reflect Victor’s internal struggle between his homosexual desire and the institutional pressures that are preventing it, expressing it in a monstrous form with skin that “scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath,” a transparency that mirrors Victor’s recognition of his sexuality. This transparency arises from the fact that the creation itself is an expression of homosexuality, and he is now directly facing his sexuality in that “the endeavor of Frankenstein to first create life on his own…suggests, if only be default, a homoerotic tension which underlies the incestuous bond” (Halberstam 42).
Victor remarks that the monster was ugly “while unfinished,” but that “when those muscles and joints were rendered capable of motion, it became a thing such as even Dante could not have conceived” (35). The ugliness of being unfinished suggests his personal struggle due to his unexpressed sexuality, but that, when that sexuality is capable of motion¸ or has been expressed, a full recognition of his perversion occurs.
This intimate moment between creator and creation is interrupted by Clerval, the representative of heteronormative friendships whose “presence brought back to my thoughts my father, Elizabeth, and all those scenes of home so dear to my recollection” (36). Clerval reminds Victor of his social and familial obligations, forcing him to reject the transgressive desire that he has just accepted. Like Dr. Jekyll, Victor fears discovery, searching his room “as children are accustomed to do when they expect a spectre to stand in waiting for them on the other side” (37) before he admits Clerval in. This specter is the homosexuality that Victor will now conceal just as ardently as he created it. However, Victor has already emancipated the monster and it is permitted to run its course of destruction, exterminating all of Victor’s associations with the heteronormative family. This commences with the murder of William, after which Victor sees the monster’s “gigantic stature, and the deformity of its aspect, more hideous than belongs to humanity, [which] instantly informed me that it was the wretch, the filthy daemon to whom I had given life” (48). His characterization of the monster as a wretch and a filthy demon suggests the extent of his rejection of the monster, or a denial in the face of this deformity. Victor recognizes that “nothing in human shape could have destroyed that fair child. He [the monster] was the murderer!” (48). The monster, a creature without a human shape, is a symbol for a homosexuality that is consuming the child, the product of heterosexual unions, just as Hyde trampled on the girl. Victor emphasizes that he is the monster, indicating both himself and his creation as part of a stratified identity, one that is repressing itself and the other that is exacting vengeance on the institutional pressures that restrain it.
The next victim is Justine when she is executed for the murder of William. She is not intentionally murdered by the homosexuality that the monster represents, but is a sacrifice to political institutions based on the structure of class relations. These political institutions, based on a male hierarchy embodied in Victor’s father as well as the judge, do not acknowledge homosexuality in their social system and therefore condemn a scapegoat, a servant of lower class. Victor, however, ascertains that he is “the true murderer” (57) of both William and Justine, again associating himself with his creation. Victor comprehends that he should explain his story and save Justine, but, because he is closeted, he rationalizes that those political institutions will not believe him, which he may be right about. He begins to live in perpetual fear “lest the monster whom I had created should perpetrate some new wickedness” (60), emphasizing his inability to control the return of the repressed and his increasingly bitter attitude towards his sexuality. His “abhorrence of this fiend cannot be conceived” (60), indicating that he, like the institutions that originally repressed him, now scorns his sexuality and desires to conform to social conventions, a desire to remain repressed.
The narrative of the monster while at the De Lacey’s cottage also underscores this struggle to conform to social conventions. The monster, homosexual desire itself, is confronted with a family that, despite being traditionally heteronormative, is itself oppressed due to class relations. This leads the monster to anticipate the potential for him to be integrated into this family structure, despite the fact that the elderly, children, and women have all previously rejected him (70). After spying on the family, the monster “discovered the names that were given to some of the most familiar objects of discourse: I learned and applied the words fire, milk, bread, and wood” (75), symbolizing his indoctrination into domestic life. He then learns that “the youth and his companion had each of them several names, but the old man had only one, which was father. The girl was called sister, or Agatha; and the youth Felix, brother, or son” (75). He, along with ascertaining language, is constructing his conception of the relationships involved in the traditional heterosexual family, a familial structure that he understands he is adverse to. Safie, although an “other” like the monster, is heterosexual and easily incorporated into this structure.
The monster’s only refuge is the blind man, the individual able to transcend the social implications of sexuality and accept the physical and internal deformity of the creature. But “at that instant the cottage door was opened, and Felix, Safie, and Agatha entered…Agatha fainted; and Safie, unable to attend to her friend, rushed from the cottage. Felix darted forward, and with supernatural force tore me from his father” (91). The traditional family will always extract this monstrosity, casting it away with violence, therefore provoking the rage involved in the return of the repressed. This return is suggested when the monster “lighted the dry branch of a tree, and danced with fury around the devoted cottage, my eyes still fixed on the western horizon, the edge of which the moon nearly touched…The wind fanned the fire, and the cottage was quickly enveloped by the flames, which clung to it, and licked it with their forked and destroying tongues” (94), demolishing the home, the essential unit of the traditional family, a family that is, in Victor’s society, predominantly heteronormative. After the spatial unit of the family is eradicated, the monster can specifically destroy each member of this institution, the child and servant as previously, and now the wife and father.
Alphonse Frankenstein explicitly defines Victor and Elizabeth’s marriage “as the tie of our domestic comfort, and the stay of my declining years” (104). It is the unification of the family into a domestic unit that invigorates the father, the representative of a sociopolitical structure confined to heteronormativity. This union is, however, haunted from its inception by the monster’s promise: “’I shall be with you on your wedding night’” (116). The suggestion is that the monster, if understood as homosexuality itself, will dilute the significance of heterosexual marriage because Victor is, although permitting his sexuality to be repressed, still definitively controlled by homosexual desire. The promise is fulfilled, and Victor relates “the destruction of the best hope, and the purest creature of earth. She was there, lifeless and inatimate, thrown across the bed, her head hanging down, and her pale and distorted features half covered by her hair” (135). Elizabeth’s death is on her bridal bed as she discovers the dissolution of familial and domestic bonds because of sexual “perversity” rather than the children that her heteronormative marriage was supposed to produce. Victor sees “a grin…on the face of the monster; he seemed to jeer, as with his fiendish finger he pointed towards the corpse of my wife” (136); the monster is emphasizing Victor’s sexuality, pointing to the figure of the dead wife, a figure symbolizing a coldness towards heterosexual relationships that will always negatively affect the female. The monster is defining Victor as a homosexual, and therefore Alphonse Frankenstein must also die, signifying the disintegration of political institutions and the paternal in the face of homosexual desire.
Monstrosity is utilized in Robert Louis Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde and Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein to suggest a dualism of sexual identity that is constructed by the repression inherent in social, political, and familial institutions. The monster itself can be understood as the violent return of the repressed or the mechanism of revenge against traditional institutions. In Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde a social homophobia predominantly constrains Jekyll, stimulating his fear of discovery. At the same time Mr Hyde, embodying the homosexual desire extracted from Jekyll, is permitted to evoke his sexual fury, trampling over a girl, suggesting a transgression against the traditional family. This is taken farther in Frankenstein where the monster, the homosexual desire of Victor, pledges to obliterate all members of the traditional family structure. Victor becomes increasingly hateful towards the monster, and therefore his sexuality, choosing to accept societal conventions and repress his own identity. However, by this time the monster has already been unleashed, directly or indirectly murdering: William, the product of heterosexual unions, Justine, the servant of traditional domestic structure, Clerval, the heteronormative friend, Elizabeth, the heteronormative wife, and Alphonse, the paternal figure representing political and social institutions. Victor’s identity struggle against institutional pressures is illustrated in the monster’s narrative, depicting his stay at the De Lacey’s cottage. This traditional family is, in the end, unable to accept the monster’s sexuality, and casts him away as a social deformity. This is the ultimate catalyst of the monster’s destruction of the family, beginning with the burning of the home itself, the spatial unit of traditional family structure.
Works Cited
Halberstam, Judith. Skin Shows: Gothic Horror and the Technology of Monsters. Duke University Press, 1995.
Heilmann, Ann and Mark Llewellyn. “What Kitty Knew: George Moore's John Norton, Multiple
Personality, and the Psychopathology of Late-Victorian Sex Crime.” Nineteenth-Century
Literature. 59.3 (2004): 372-403. JSTOR. University of California, Riverside, Thomas
Rivera Lib. 26 November 2008
Shelley, Mary. Frankenstein. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, Inc., 1996.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Threats to Arrest Sex-Ed Teachers?
This article is about a month old, but it is worth reviewing, especially as a contrast to the Canadian sex education article I posted a few days ago. The Healthy Youth Act, recently passed in Wisconsin, attempts to establish a more comprehensive, and successful, sexual education curriculum (though vague language, lots of 'may's and 'if's, may harm this goal). The law requires any such sexual education program to include "age-appropriate" material, such as the proper use of birth control; it does, however, have a built-in political and legal buffer, both permitting schools not to offer sexual education and allowing parents to remove their children from such classes, if they are offered.
This buffer is not enough, however, for Juneau County District Attorney Scott Southworth. The article states that Southworth's objection is that "the new law promotes sexual assault of children," a situation that would allow him to arrest teachers. His logic is, of course, warped and politically motivated. He never directly alludes to actual sexual assault (the teacher physically assaulting the student), but suggests an indirect form of "sexual assault" where the student, utilizing the information given by the teacher, has sex, or may have sex, with another child.
This, besides being downright silly and an unfortunate stretch of the law, is also extremely problematic. By Southworth's logic, any parent that gives their child sexual information (the, usually conservative, idea that sexual education should emerges from the household) is also guilty of sexual assault, and can be arrested. This also sets a bad precedent for education in general. It makes the teacher directly liable for any actions that result from education. For example, if an English teacher has their students read Frankenstein, and then a student kills a child by strangling, like the Monster, can the teacher then be liable? The major difference, of course, is that murder is illegal; sex, unfortunately for Mr. Southworth, is not, and neither is education (a type of education which is directly condoned by a new law, nonetheless).
This is, however, what he is attempting to argue: "Moreover, the teacher could be charged with this crime even if the child does not actually engage in the criminal behavior," he wrote, adding, "Our teachers should never be put in this position." There is no actual "crime" or "criminal behavior" here, but merely what he has labeled a crime through a vague and indirect allusion to "sexual assault" (is he suggesting that sexual education may cause rape? Then, of course, that goes back to the Frankenstein example). I don't even know why I'm entertaining his connection; sexual assault can occur with or without sexual education (sexual organs don't suddenly grow after you've passed a sex ed class).
He is right about one thins, our teachers definitely shouldn't be put in this position. However, they aren't being put in the position by the law, or the school board, or themselves. They are being put into it by Scott Southworth.
Southworth also alludes to sexual identity in his letter: "Southworth's letter also said the new law requires schools to condone controversial sexual behavior because they must teach students about gender stereotypes. He said that would likely mean teaching about homosexuality and transgender and transsexual people." To see where he was getting this information, I read the law, and could not find any direct or indirect suggestion that this would be the case (though, I don't object to it, but Southworth's objections are based on his own political bias and hysteria). Which is ironic, seeing as Southworth stated that "the new law injects an intense amount of unnecessary politics into our human growth and development classrooms." The only person that seems to be interjecting unnecessary politics is, again, Mr. Southworth.
His solution to all of these problems of sexual assault and teaching children about transgressive sexual identities? Suspend sex education indefinitely, until the legislature "amends or repeals these new mandates." I honestly don't think it gets any more political than that.
This buffer is not enough, however, for Juneau County District Attorney Scott Southworth. The article states that Southworth's objection is that "the new law promotes sexual assault of children," a situation that would allow him to arrest teachers. His logic is, of course, warped and politically motivated. He never directly alludes to actual sexual assault (the teacher physically assaulting the student), but suggests an indirect form of "sexual assault" where the student, utilizing the information given by the teacher, has sex, or may have sex, with another child.
This, besides being downright silly and an unfortunate stretch of the law, is also extremely problematic. By Southworth's logic, any parent that gives their child sexual information (the, usually conservative, idea that sexual education should emerges from the household) is also guilty of sexual assault, and can be arrested. This also sets a bad precedent for education in general. It makes the teacher directly liable for any actions that result from education. For example, if an English teacher has their students read Frankenstein, and then a student kills a child by strangling, like the Monster, can the teacher then be liable? The major difference, of course, is that murder is illegal; sex, unfortunately for Mr. Southworth, is not, and neither is education (a type of education which is directly condoned by a new law, nonetheless).
This is, however, what he is attempting to argue: "Moreover, the teacher could be charged with this crime even if the child does not actually engage in the criminal behavior," he wrote, adding, "Our teachers should never be put in this position." There is no actual "crime" or "criminal behavior" here, but merely what he has labeled a crime through a vague and indirect allusion to "sexual assault" (is he suggesting that sexual education may cause rape? Then, of course, that goes back to the Frankenstein example). I don't even know why I'm entertaining his connection; sexual assault can occur with or without sexual education (sexual organs don't suddenly grow after you've passed a sex ed class).
He is right about one thins, our teachers definitely shouldn't be put in this position. However, they aren't being put in the position by the law, or the school board, or themselves. They are being put into it by Scott Southworth.
Southworth also alludes to sexual identity in his letter: "Southworth's letter also said the new law requires schools to condone controversial sexual behavior because they must teach students about gender stereotypes. He said that would likely mean teaching about homosexuality and transgender and transsexual people." To see where he was getting this information, I read the law, and could not find any direct or indirect suggestion that this would be the case (though, I don't object to it, but Southworth's objections are based on his own political bias and hysteria). Which is ironic, seeing as Southworth stated that "the new law injects an intense amount of unnecessary politics into our human growth and development classrooms." The only person that seems to be interjecting unnecessary politics is, again, Mr. Southworth.
His solution to all of these problems of sexual assault and teaching children about transgressive sexual identities? Suspend sex education indefinitely, until the legislature "amends or repeals these new mandates." I honestly don't think it gets any more political than that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
