Tag Archives: bodies

On Being Included

book cover

“Diversity is regularly referred to as a ‘good’ word precisely because it can be used in diverse ways, or even because it does not have a referent.” –Sara Ahmed, On Being Included, p. 80

On Being Included is one of those books that took over my life. It seemed like, for a while, I inserted this text into just about every conversation I had. “Oh, that’s similar to what Sara Ahmed talks about when she says … ” Maybe it’s because I want people to associate me with this brilliant author!  It’s also partially because this book is really smart about dealing with the ways that terms–specifically, diversity–are taken up within the institution (and she does a neat job of thinking through what institution means) and used to obscure particular kinds of work. Although diversity is the term Ahmed deals with most directly in this text (she also discusses racism later in the book), I found that many of her observations and arguments were also applicable to the term feminism, and I found a lot in this text that helped me to think about my dissertation project.

On the very first page, Ahmed suggests that some terms, like diversity, make possible “the departure of other (perhaps more critical) terms, including ‘equality,’ ‘equal opportunities,’ and ‘social justice’” (p. 1). Because I situate apparent feminism as an approach to social justice, I am particularly interested in the ways Ahmed sees diversity as a term that reduces our use of the term social justice. Also, I might add feminism to the list she offers. So, the question I am left with is this: In what ways might usages of the term diversity prevent us (academics, those within the institution) from making social justice and feminism apparent? And, equally important: What other important critical terms might be obscured by our uses of social justice and/or feminism? This is something I think through a bit in my final chapter, but it’s also a question I imagine I will be asking for some time.

A passage of particular importance to me in thinking about my decision to base my work around the term feminism comes when Ahmed talks about the “political efficacy”–I might say efficiency–of the term diversity. “I arrived to the research presuming that the emptiness of diversity was a sign of its lack of political value and  utility. But the political efficacy of this word was related by some practitioners to its emptiness” (p. 79). Ahmed suggests that this emptiness means diversity can be defined in a variety of ways, and this “challenges a world that refuses variety, a world that considers isues onlly from a singular viewpoint.  . . . The very lack of referentiality becomes a certain starting point for a critique of how some viewpoints are given a referential function” (p. 79).  In advocating apparent feminism, I hope to sponsor the sorts of conversations that Ahmed is talking about, conversations that are inclusive and that critique singular, “objective” presumptions about “empty” terms.

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Paying (critical) attention to advertising

Just some food for thought for today.

The Right to Choose

I just spotted this headline on CNN.com: “Surrogate mother had right to choose.” (If you need the background for this short opinion piece, go here. The short version, though, is that a surrogate mother refused to abort her pregnancy when the parents asked her to.) While I certainly don’t agree with everything Dan O’Connor has to say about this issue, I do think he introduces some smart nuances to this debate.

The most interesting to me is this: “The problem stems from our conflicted understanding of what we mean when we say a woman has the right to choose what she does with her body.” While this is very smart it come ways, it also underscores a really problematic assumption. O’Connor–like most people–seems to assume that a woman in the modern U.S. does indeed HAVE choices about her body. This is something Rickie Solinger‘s politics of choice thoroughly refutes. Women may have “choices,” but they are severely limited and influenced by oppressive systemic forces of law, politics, social pressures, and economics.

This politics of choice is also something that O’Connor gets at in a roundabout way. Consider this quotation: ”Like most surrogates, [Kelley] is not financially well-off; note the distinct lack of fully employed, millionaire surrogate mothers.” Here, O’Connor gets it exactly right. Kelley may have “chosen” to be a surrogate, but that was a choice that was heavily influenced by her economic circumstances. One might consider a poor woman’s decision to become a surrogate less a choice than an act of survival or desperation.

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Anne Boleyn

Yesterday I attended a talk by Susan Bordo previewing her upcoming book The Creation of Anne Boleyn, which will be released in April. (Read more about it here.) My favorite part of Bordo’s talk was when she discussed her interviews with the women who have portrayed Anne Boleyn on screen. For example, Natalie Dormer, who played Anne on The Tudors, discussed her conversations with writer Michael Hirst and the effects on the ways she played Anne. Dormer said, “Our job is to be the vehicle of the text.” As a result, she resolved to change parts of the text that she felt might betray Anne’s legacy. Bordo talks  more about this here. I am excited by Dormer’s explicit feminist intervention!

Bordo also discussed perceptions of Dormer’s Anne as a third-wave icon, full of contradiction and complexity. She focused on how this Anne’s intellectualism and fire resonated with popular audiences and especially with young women. Dormer’s Anne disrupts the more conventional depiction of Anne as a home-wrecking whore juxtaposed against Catherine of Aragon’s chaste and virtue. (And it is this conventional depiction, I would argue–regardless of historical “reality”–that requires feminist recoveries of Anne.) Bordo also read aloud many critiques of The Tudors and suggested that this level of critique is justified by a modern context in which audiences are increasingly unable to critically analyze visual texts at the level of representation.

I’m not sure I buy this argument. While I certainly believe that modern audiences read visual texts differently than 16th century audiences, and while I certainly believe that cultural and historical critiques of popular works are important, I’m not sure I believe that modern audiences are limited to literal understandings of visual texts. (To invoke Rudolf Arnheim’s scheme, we still have signs and symbols as well as pictures.) I’m not sure I believe that the introduction of Renaissance perspective and the modes of visuality that have arisen since have limited our readings of visual texts so much as transformed them. I’ll have to read the book to get some more context for this train of thought!

Bordo also made some interesting distinctions throughout her talk about the differences between literary critics, writers, and historians. I was left hoping for more explanation of what qualifies a person to be a historian. I hope, also, for the book to include some discussion of the validity of “historical” versus “literary” approaches to storytelling. Bordo noted, for example, that most extant primary sources about Anne were written by her political enemies, since Henry had her writings destroyed. So, how does one earn the label “historian”? And, perhaps more importantly, what are we missing because of our focus on what is “fact” and what is “fiction” rather than focusing on perspective?

Finally, I’ll end with an apparent feminist reaction to an image Bordo showed but did not critique. To be clear, I enjoyed The Tudors series immensely, but their advertising less so. What is going on in this image? Aside from the obvious fragmentation of female bodies (And, yes, I get that this is a play on Henry’s beheading two of his wives. But what about the others? And, anyway, Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard did still possess heads–and personalities–during their lives.), why are there only five women depicted? What is the reasoning for rendering an entire woman’s body–and life?–completely unapparent? Is it entirely aesthetic? If so, what are the implications? And which wife is it who has been erased?

Tudors

Rhetorics of personhood

This fascinating and heartbreaking case just broke on CNN:

Lori Stodghill arrived at the ER of St. Thomas More Hospital in severe distress; she was 28 weeks pregnant. (Full term is usually considered to be around 36 or 37 weeks.) She and the twin boys she was carrying died, and her husband sued the hospital. The hospital–a Catholic institution–has now argued that the twins were not legally people, and therefore did not have a right to life. This is, of course, a shocking claim for a Catholic institution to make. Currently Jeremy Stodghill is waiting to see if the Colorado Supreme Court will take his case.

What I find most incredible in terms of rhetorics of personhood, though, is the apparent confusion over the difference between an embryo and a fetus. Here’s a direct quote from the CNN story (and I would suspect this might be something that changes once the fact-checkers get hold of it, so I’ll use a screenshot):

Screen Shot 2013-01-27 at 11.58.20 AM

 

Now, in scientific rhetorics, an embryo becomes a fetus around week 8 or 9 of gestation. Since Lori Stodghill’s pregnancy was 20 weeks beyond that–she was in her third trimester, not her first–the choice to invoke the term “embryo” is a little bit shocking. Using the term “embryo” rather than “fetus” creates additional distance from the term “person”; this rhetorical move seems to make Jeremy Stodghill’s position weaker. In the interest of making apparent those responsible for this rhetorical shift … As nearly as I can tell (after an hour’s worth of Internet research), it was the CNN reporters who introduced this term rather than the attorneys for St. Thomas More Hospital or the Colorado law they relied upon; regardless, the slippage in terms is quite intriguing.