The Guardian’s “Women’s Blog” reports
that “Gender-flips used to challenge sexist stereotypes are having a
moment,” and this is largely owing, author Kira Cochrane suggests, to the fact
that “Sometimes the best way to make a point about sexism is also the simplest.”
This simple approach to making a point consists of taking a work of art or
piece of advertising and swapping the genders featured in them. Cochrane goes
on to point out that “the gender-flip certainly isn’t a new way to make a
political point,” and notes that “it’s with the recent rise of feminist
campaigning and online debate that this approach has gone mainstream.”
What is the political point
gender-flips are making? As a dancer in a Jennifer Lopez video that reverses
the conventional gender roles asks, “Why do men always objectify the women in
every single video?” Australian comedian Christiaan Van Vuuren explains that he
posed for a reproduction of a GQ cover originally featuring a sexy woman to
call attention to the “over-sexualization of the female body in the
high-fashion world.” The original cover photo of Miranda Kerr is undeniably
beautiful. The gender-flipped version is funny. The obvious takeaway is that we
look at women and men differently (gasp!). When women strike an alluring pose,
or don revealing clothes, it’s sexy. When men try to do the same thing, it’s
ridiculous. Feminists insist that this objectification or over-sexualization of
women is a means of oppression. But is it? And are gender-flips simple ways of making a point, or just cheap gimmicks?
Tonight, my alma mater
IPFW is hosting a production called “Juliet and Romeo,” a gender-flipped version
of Shakespeare’s most recognizable play. The lead on the Facebook page for the
event asks us to imagine that “Juliet is instead a bold Montague who courts a
young, sheltered Capulet by the name of Romeo.” Lest you fear the production is
just a stunt to make a political point about gender, the hosts have planned a “panel
discussion focusing on Shakespeare, gender, and language.” Many former
classmates and teachers, most of whom I consider friends, a couple I consider
good friends, are either attending or participating in the event. But I won’t
be going.
I don’t believe the
production is being put on in the spirit of open-minded experimentation. Like
the other gender-flip examples, the purpose of staging “Juliet and Romeo” is to
make a point about stereotypes. And I believe this proclivity toward using
literature as fodder to fuel ideological agendas is precisely what’s most wrong
with English lit programs in today’s universities. There have to be better ways
to foster interest in great works than by letting activists posing as educators
use them as anvils to hammer agendas into students’
heads against.
You may take the position
that my objections would carry more weight were I to attend the event before
rendering judgment on it. But I believe the way to approach literature is as an
experience, not as a static set of principles or stand-alone abstractions.
And I don’t want thoughts about gender politics to intrude on my experience of
Shakespeare—especially when those thoughts are of such dubious merit. I want to
avoid the experience of a gender-flipped production of Shakespeare because I
believe scholarship should push us farther into literature—enhance our
experience of it, make it more immediate and real—not cast us out of it by
importing elements of political agendas and making us cogitate about some
supposed implications for society of what’s going on before our eyes.
Regarding that political
point, I see no contradiction in accepting, even celebrating, our culture’s
gender roles while at the same time supporting equal rights for both genders.
Sexism is a belief that one gender is inferior to the other. Demonstrating that
people of different genders tend to play different roles in no way proves that
either is being treated as inferior. As for objectification and
over-sexualization, a moment’s reflection ought to make clear that the feminists
are getting this issue perfectly backward. Physical attractiveness is one of
the avenues through which women exercise power over men. Miranda Kerr got paid
handsomely for that GQ cover. And what could be more arrantly hypocritical than
Jennifer Lopez complaining about objectification in music videos? She owes her
celebrity in large part to her willingness to allow herself to be objectified.
The very concept of objectification is only something we accept from long
familiarity--people are sexually aroused by other people, not objects.
I’m not opposed to having
a discussion about gender roles and power relations, but if you have something
to say, then say it. I’m not even completely opposed to discussing gender in
the context of Shakespeare’s plays. What I am opposed to is people hijacking
our experience of Shakespeare to get some message across, people toeing the line
by teaching that literature is properly understood by “looking at it through
the lens” of one or another well-intentioned but completely unsupported
ideology, and people misguidedly making sex fraught and uncomfortable for
everyone. I doubt I’m alone in turning to literature, at least in part, to get
away from that sort of puritanism in church. Guilt-tripping guys and
encouraging women to walk around with a chip on their shoulders must be one of the least effective ways to get people to respect each other more we've ever come up with.
But, when you guys do a
performance of the original Shakespeare, you can count on me being there to experience it.
Update:
The link to this post on
Facebook generated some heated commentary. Some were denials of ideological
intentions on behalf of those putting on the event. Some were
mischaracterizations based on presumed “traditionalist” associations with my
position. Some made the point that Shakespeare himself played around with
gender, so it should be okay for others to do the same with his work. In the
end, I did feel compelled to attend the event because I had taken such a strong
position. Having flipflopped and
attended the event, I have to admit I enjoyed it. All the people involved were
witty, charming, intellectually
stimulating, and pretty much all-around delightful.
But, as was my original complaint, it was quite clear—and
at two points explicitly stated—that the "experiment" entailed using
the play as a springboard for a discussion of current issues like marriage
rights. Everyone, from the cast to audience members, was quick to insist after
the play that they felt it was completely natural and convincing. But gradually
more examples of "awkward," "uncomfortable," or
"weird" lines or scenes came up. Shannon Bischoff, a linguist one
commenter characterized as the least politically correct guy I’d ever meet, did
in fact bring up a couple aspects of the adaptation that he found troubling. But
even he paused after saying something felt weird, as if to say, "Is that
alright?" (Being weirded out about a 15 year old Romeo being pursued by a
Juliet in her late teens was okay because it was about age not gender.)
The adapter himself, Jack Cant, said at one point that
though he was tempted to rewrite some of the parts that seemed really strange
he decided to leave them in because he wanted to let people be uncomfortable.
The underlying assumption of the entire discussion was that gender is a
"social construct" and that our expectations are owing solely to
"stereotypes." And the purpose of the exercise was for everyone to be
brought face-to-face with their assumptions about gender so that they could
expiate them. I don't think any fair-minded attendee could deny the agreed-upon
message was that this is a way to help us do away with gender roles—and that
doing so would be a good thing. (If there was any doubt, Jack’s wife eliminated
it when she stood up from her seat in the audience to say she wondered if Jack
had learned enough from the exercise to avoid applying gender stereotypes to
his nieces.) And this is exactly what I mean by ideology. Sure, Shakespeare
played around with gender in As You Like
It and Twelfth Night. But he did
it for dramatic or comedic effect primarily, and to send a message secondarily—or
more likely not at all.
For the record, I think biology plays a large (but of
course not exclusive) part in gender roles, I enjoy and celebrate gender roles
(love being a man; love women who love being women), but I also support
marriage rights for homosexuals and try to be as accepting as I can of people
who don't fit the conventional roles.
To make one further clarification: whether you support an
anti-gender agenda and whether you think Shakespeare should be used as a tool
for this or any other ideological agenda are two separate issues. I happen not
to support anti-genderism.
My main point in this post, however, is that ideology—good, bad, valid, invalid—should
not play a part in literature education. Because, for instance, while students
are being made to feel uncomfortable about their unexamined gender assumptions,
they're not feeling uncomfortable about, say, whether Romeo might be rushing
into marriage too hastily, or whether Juliet will wake up in time to keep him
from drinking the poison—you know, the actual play.
Whether Shakespeare was sending a message or not, I'm sure
he wanted first and foremost for his audiences to respond to the characters he
actually created. And we shouldn't be using "lenses" to look at
plays; we should be experiencing them. They're not treatises. They're not coded
allegories. And, as old as they may be to us, every generation of students gets
to discover them anew.
We can discuss politics and gender or whatever you want.
There's a time and a place for that and it's not in a lit classroom. Sure,
let's encourage students to have open minds about gender and other issues, and
let's help them to explore their culture and their own habits of thought. There
are good ways to do that—ideologically adulterated Shakespeare is not one of
them.